Ill the top of high places by the way, 

 Where the paths meet she standeth ; 

 Beside the gates, at the entry of the city ; 

 At the coming in at the doors she crieth aloud 

 Unto you, men, I call. 



Hear, for I will speak excellent things ; 



And the opening of my lips shall be right things, 



For my mouth shall \itter truth, 



Hear instruction, and be wise. 



Happy is the man that heareth me, 



Watching daily at my gates, 



Waiting at the posts of my doors." 



Such is the attitude of the genius of Science, offering with 

 unstinted liberality, one may say with prodigality, the wealth of 

 her wisdom to all who can appreciate its worth, and will accept 

 it at her hands. 



In the domain of social economy, the disposal of commodi- 

 ties of various kinds requires the co-operation of the producer, 

 the distributer, and the consumer. 



Without pressing the analogy too far, we find in the domain 

 of science a similar co-operation existing, by which the laws 

 and forces of Nature, the marvels of matter and of inorganic 

 life, become revealed, interpreted, and enjoyed. There is the 

 discoverer who, by systematic investigation, enunciates the great 

 principles of natural science ; there is the inventor who applies 

 them mechanically for the necessities and utilities of life ; and 

 the lay individual, — our amateur, if you will, — to whom the 

 knowledge and facts which are placed before him come as a con- 

 tribution to his intellectual enjoyment, and an addition to the 

 pleasure of his existence. 



It is clear that the amateur will not advance the cause of 

 science along the lines either of the discoverer or the inventor. 

 The cause of science is advanced by the man of " one idea 

 at one time." It is true there have been and are some few 

 giants whose vast genius enables them to range unchallenged 

 in every department ; such are Darwin, Tyndall, Huxley, and 

 others. But, generally speaking, the workers who leave their mark 

 and materially add to the sum of knowledge are those who centre 

 their investigations within certain limits, and often very narrow 

 ones. They are, in fact, specialists, who devote years to the 

 elucidation of a single problem, or in finding out all that can be 

 known concerning a single species of plant or animal. 



And, in the end, though their life-work, as far as science is 

 concerned, may be included in a single monograph, it is to that 

 extent a solid and indispensable gain, and knowledge on the 

 subject has been advanced by a distinct stage which will not 

 have to be traversed again. 



But the end of science is not the miserly accumulation of 



