2l8 



HARD WICKE' S SCIENCE- G OSS IF. 



because it is the spontaneous answer of our whole 

 being to an appeal from its better and higher side ; 

 but it none the less serves to develop, exercise, and 

 instruct, by methods more or less systematic, the 

 faculties which we possess. To that extent, at least, 

 it is a discipline, and has its moral aspects. 



Again, at the bottom of these suggestions to 

 simplify phraseology, and to deal with elementary 

 subjects, there often lurks a fundamental misconcep- 

 tion as to the function of education. Every system 

 of education — whether it prevail in schools set apart 

 for pupils of tender years, or in those societies with 

 which we associate ourselves, and which are the 

 schools of our later life — must communicate some 

 information in the form of facts and figures ; but is it 

 not the highest function of any such system to put us 

 in the way of getting facts for ourselves, and of 

 arranging, methodising, and utilising them ? Looked 

 at from this point of view, it seems difficult to over- 

 rate the good which scientific societies are capable of 

 doing. It will be for some future historian to 

 estimate the influence which has been, and is being 

 thus exercised in making our age what it is. Mean- 

 while, before we venture to criticise the work of any 

 society, would it not be prudent to ascertain whether 

 or not it is discharging the higher rather than the 

 lower function of education ? 



Reference was made a few lines above to the 

 moral aspects of membership. Though to dilate on 

 the theme would be to exceed the limits we have 

 set ourselves, this phase of our subject cannot be 

 overlooked. A simple instance, one which may be 

 within the experience of some who read this paper, 

 will suffice. You are an enthusiastic member of the 

 microscopical society of the town in which you 

 reside. You have just purchased, or a friend has 

 lent you, one of Moller's splendid type slides ; and 

 you take it down to the next meeting with your 

 microscope and lamp. You carefully arrange every- 

 thing, and have at last secured that degree of 

 light in which the skilled diatomist loves to exhibit 

 his favourites ; when another member, who is to 

 read a paper, asks you to lend him your lamp for 

 the evening, as he has forgotten to bring one. He 

 is the " foolish virgin " of the assembly, and his 

 thoughtlessness, it may even be his habitual careless- 

 ness, obliges him to impose on your goodnature. 

 Unless you act as the " wise virgins " of the parable 

 did, your evening seems likely to be spoiled in order 

 that your rosy-gilled acquaintance should not lose 

 the iclat of the meeting. Common courtesy, how- 

 ever, prompts you to lend your lamp cheerfully. 

 And it is chiefly out of our little unremembered acts 

 of charity and goodwill that the best side of our 

 complex human nature is built up. Membership of 

 a society constantly demands self-sacrifice in a 

 thousand ways. It does so when it requires you to 

 give up some engagement to attend a meeting, to 

 hear a paper read on a subject in which perhaps you 



do not take a deep interest, but which you know 

 has cost its writer much self-imposed time and 

 trouble. You do not like to read your own papers 

 to empty chairs ; your sympathy is thus aroused, and 

 you act rightly in giving up your other engagement 

 for your meeting. Whether in or outside of societies, 

 the benefit to be derived by one's self is obviously 

 by no means the highest motive for well-doing ; but 

 in considering the moral results which flow from the 

 loyal observance of the duties incidental to member- 

 ship, we cannot in the present connection disregard 

 their effects in the direction of developing sympathy. 

 It sometimes seems to me that our scientific 

 societies may in certain respects discharge for their 

 members some of the functions which were fulfilled 

 by religious orders in the past. Those who in olden 

 times donned the cowl and garb of the monks, 

 derived good, depend on it, from the self-restraint 

 they must have had to exercise again and again, 

 when they found themselves associated with 

 companions not of their own choice, and whose 

 characters may in many instances have seemed 

 utterly unlovable. I think it is Thomas a Kempis 

 who suggests something about the discipline which 

 was thus imposed on one who entered an order. 

 The morning has widened ; our day is brighter than 

 his was ; our comrades are mainly of our own choice .: 

 the scope and aims of the societies we join, and are 

 now gossiping about, differ widely from those which 

 were assembled in the old abbeys ; but, thank God, 

 we are still human beings, and not the least good 

 derivable from our scientific societies is to be found 

 in the courtesy which we are required to exercise, 

 and in the self-restraint and self-sacrifice which it 

 often involves. If we thus learn something about 

 others, we should surely in such a position learn still 

 more about ourselves. 



W. J. Simmons. 

 Calcutta. 



NATURAL HISTORY NOTES. 



\Co7itinued from p. 203.] 

 NATURE AROUND A COVERT. 



THE particular spot which I shall dwell upon in 

 this paper, is a covert, or preserve for foxes. 

 It is distant from the village in which I write this, 

 about a mile and a half. In the winter-time this spot 

 is the frequent resort of the nearest pack of foxhounds ; 

 otherwise the place is hardly ever frequented by any 

 footsteps save those of the keeper, who sometimes 

 visits it in the course of his rounds. The covert (at 

 the east and north sides) is situated close to the road, 

 which, however, is not much frequented by either 

 people on foot, or in carts, so nature is left much to' 

 herself during the greater part of the year ; though 

 the place in winter-time sometimes resounds with the 

 blows of the axe or bill of the woodcutters, who 



