Septembee 18, 1896.] 



SCIENCE. 



377 



it insures quantity in publication, generally 

 does so at the expense of quality of attain- 

 ment. As a rule, genius, which, left to 

 itself, now and then leaps to the most 

 unexpected accomplishments, is most ef- 

 fectively repressed by close supervision. It 

 is tolerant of guidance, but not of the goad ; 

 and yet, on the whole, perhaps, both guided 

 and driven, if this is done wisely, it accom- 

 plishes most, for in harness it becomes 

 plodding research, which is dull, to be sure, 

 but if persevering, productive of cumulative 

 results which become of incalculable im- 

 portance. In fact, whether fortunately or 

 unfortunately I shall not attempt to say, 

 the world has come to recognize the slow, 

 but sure progress of research as in the main 

 more desirable than the irregular and inter- 

 mittent leaps of genius, though the two are 

 closely akin— patient labor over endless 

 facts on the one hand, and broad observa- 

 tion and untrammeled thought on the 

 other. 



If, everything considered, it is slow and 

 persistent investigation, rather than sudden 

 inspiration, to which we must look for the 

 accomplishment of the greatest collective 

 results in botany, it is equally true that the 

 individual student is more likely to build 

 his reputation on the summation of the 

 small accomplishments of many days of 

 close application than to arrive at some 

 great discovery hj a leap — and this quite 

 aside from the fact that the latter result is 

 entirely impossible to many a man who in 

 the other way may still hope to be of great 

 utility. It has been said that there is a tide 

 in the affairs of men, which, taken at the 

 flood, leads on to fortune, and no doubt what 

 is true in the military, literary and commer- 

 cial world is equally true in the smaller 

 realm of science. In fact, I fancy that each 

 member of my audience has in mind some 

 one preeminent occasion which may have 

 looked small or large at the moment, but 

 the seizing or neglect of which he now sees 



marked a turning point in his scientific 

 career. But, it will be seen, it is not of the 

 one great opportunity that I would now 

 speak. Improving it always has marked 

 and always will mark the turning point of 

 life, but unfortunately the bridge cannot be 

 crossed before it is reached, and great as the 

 value of a true and wise friend's counsel 

 then is, it cannot be replaced by any gener- 

 alities in advance; therefore it is to the 

 countless lesser opportunities, repeated with 

 almost every day that dawns for us, that I 

 turn, in the hope that something helpful 

 may be said of them, and in the firm belief 

 that in them lies the making of any intelli- 

 gent and indefatigable young man. 



To the investigator, breadth of foundation 

 is even more necessary than to the institu- 

 tion founded for his use, for while the latter 

 should endure for centuries, and may be re- 

 modeled and improved at any time, he is 

 limited to a single lifetime and can rarely 

 in mid-life or later repair the deficiencies of 

 ill-advised or defective training. !N"ot only 

 should his powers of observation be well de- 

 veloped, but he should be given more disci- 

 pline in reasoning than is now customary — 

 though the botanists of a generation ago 

 counted among their number several men 

 who are even more widely known as phil- 

 osophers. 



Equipped for the work, and enabled to 

 use the material facilities that others have 

 brought together against the day of his 

 need, much depends on an early and wise 

 formulation of the investigator's plans. Ex- 

 cept for the tasks set by a teacher, and 

 really long contemplated by him and car- 

 ried out by his intelligence, if through the 

 eyes and hands of pupils, few pieces of valu- 

 able research are taken up on the spur of 

 the moment, without previous thought on 

 the part of the investigator. They are usu- 

 ally the outgrowth of reflection started, per- 

 haps, by some casual observation or the re- 

 mark of another, and turning and return- 



