A HISTORY OF SCIENCE 



his assistants from a rather grewsome-looking collection 

 before him. Now he paused to chaff the assistant who 

 was making the labels, poking good-humored jokes at 

 his awkwardness, but with no trace of sting. Again 

 he became animated, his voice raised a little, his speech 

 more vehement, as he advanced his own views on some 

 contested theory or refuted the objections that some 

 opponent had urged against him, always, however, 

 with a smile lurking about his eyes or openly showing 

 on his lips. 



Constantly the lecturer turned to the blackboard to 

 illustrate with colored, crayons such points of his dis- 

 course as the actual specimens in circulation might 

 leave obscure. Everything must be made plain to 

 every hearer or he would not be satisfied. One can 

 but contrast such teaching as this with the lectures of 

 the average German professor, who seems not to con- 

 cern himself in the least as to whether anything is 

 understood by any one. But Virchow had the spirit 

 of the true teacher. He had the air of loving his task, 

 old story as it was to him. Most of his auditors were 

 mere students, yet he appealed to them as earnestly 

 as if they were associates and equals. He seemed to 

 try to put himself on their level to make his thought 

 near to them. Physically he was near to them as he 

 talked, the platform on which he stood being but a 

 few inches in height, and such physical nearness con- 

 duces to a familiarity of discourse that is best fitted 

 for placing lecturer and hearers en rapport. All in all, 

 appealing as it does almost equally to ear and eye, it is 

 a type of what a lecturer should be. Not a student there 

 but went away with an added fund of information, 



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