ite a special prayer to be used
ce, which took place each
ten o'clock. This prayer,
said daily, voices the alms-
fulness for benefits enjoyed,
atitude toward the founder,
e. It is an interesting fact
hat since this custom has
een revived the spirit of the
lace has been transformed
rom one of general dissatis-
action to one of grateful ap
reciation.

The beauty of the old
hurch with its notable monu-
ments, and royal associations,
nd the quaint old almshouse
ith its thirteen pensioners.
ust remain a joy to all ap
reciative visitors; and as
ey study the ancient build-
gs and peruse the precious
cuments they may at the
me time learn more of the
irty-second master of the
nshouse, whose mastership
I ever be gratefully remem
ed.

Sir William Osler's benetions apart from his contriions to science and medie were manifold. He had d in three countries, beneg all, and was honored beloved by all; he was ght from far and wide not because of his wisdom great knowledge of medibut because of his gener, sympathy, and personal n. Born in the Province atario, Canada, in 1849, d from Trinity College, and took his medical deer at McGill University, years' study abroad, he fessor of medicine; then rs of active scientific of which period he was ersity of Pennsylvania. the newly established

dicine of

eminent and widely influential physician of his time.

After refusing many other calls he finally accepted that much-coveted post, the Regius Professorship of Medicine at Oxford. He was at this time fifty-six years of age, and the next fifteen years represented even greater activity and more far-reaching influence than that attained at Baltimore.

He and Lady Osler made their beautiful home at Oxford a centre of unbounded hospitality, which was of inestimable value both to undergraduates and to medical men from all parts of the world. Such generous hospitality caused the playful term, "The Open Arms," to be given to this home, the portals of which were during the war even more widely thrown open, hospitality of the table being extended to some fifteen hundred persons in the course of one year.

Sir William rejoiced in the atmosphere of the ancient seat of learning, and became absorbed in many activities there outside of the duties of his regius professorship. He took an important part in the administrative work of the university and of the Bodleian Library, where as curator he wrought many extensive changes; he was associated with the Clarendon Press, and became president of the

Classical Association, an honor aspired to by all great scholars. Apart from his profession and literary labors, his hobby was "books," and he accumulated a great library, covering the whole history and field of medicine, from early parchments to the latest scientific works. He also collected every known edition of his lifelong favorite, the "Religio Medici," of Sir Thomas Browne, whose masterpiece he kept always by his bedside. In the indexing and classification of this library on

sures to the appreciative. His in parable medical library, with its elab catalogue, is destined for McGill Un sity, where it. will be sent as soon as catalogue is completed by Doctor Fra Sir William's nephew, who is now b engaged upon this work.

The church at Ewelme.

After the death of his son Revere, had already acquired a valuable collect of imprints of the Tudor and Stuart riods, Sir William and Lady Osler presen to Johns Hopkins this collection, grea enlarged by Sir William's treasured bo and manuscripts, to stand as a memo of the great-grandson of Paul Revere, sleeps under a wooden cross in Fland

Sir William's charm as a writer much to do with his success as a teac and his bibliography covering a perio

He was a delightful speaker who could grace any occasion, but his lighter sayings were sometimes misunderstood, or misinterpreted, as was the case in one instance, when, in delivering his farewell address to his devoted colleagues in Baltimore, he let fall a quotation from one of Trollope's little-known works, "The Fixed Period." The remark about "chloroform" for those of advanced age, in reality Trollope's, was seized upon by the press, and emphasized in a manner utterly unfair to Sir William, who would not have dreamed of offending his colleagues, most of whom were over sixty, an age that he himself was then approaching.

Sir William Osler's name should stand upon the honor-roll of those who gave their lives in the World War, for had he saved himself in any small degree during those strenuous days, he might have carried on his ministrations for humanity many years longer. He was pre-eminently a man of peace. All his life he had hated strife, and striven to avert it in all directions, and for this reason he suffered more acutely, though from the outbreak of hostilities he threw himself into the heat of war activities. He served untiringly at the War Office, upon committees, and as senior consultant to the forces. Long railway journeys and the inspection of hospitals taxed his strength severely, but he carried on with unabated enthusiasm.

He received a colonel's comr was due to his influence th States, in 1915, sent vol abroad to serve with the Fre ish units. And when, in 191; was killed while fighting witl in Flanders, he but increas although it was a blow fr never recovered. Early in C he was taken ill after a long drive from the north, where h by the railway strike, and fro he never rallied, passing awa ing December.

A year before his death he offer from the two leading E cal parties to stand as fusio from Oxford for the seat in but he refused on the ground t should, in justice, be offered

As president of the Classi tion, a body of the most emi scholars, he made his last a most notable address in Ma "The Old Humanities and th ence," in which he made a bi for "no human letters witho science, and no science witho

He was a great doctor, a grea and a great benefactor, but, al was a great personality, with th giving something precious to with whom he came in contact. life more abundantly for know

ved a colonel's commission, and it e to his influence that the United in 1915, sent volunteer units co serve with the French and Bri

. And when, in 1917, his only sm ed while fighting with the artillery ers, he but increased his labor

it was a blow from which Covered. Early in October. aken ill after a long, cold mo m the north, where he was held ilway strike, and from this rallied, passing away the f mber.

before his death he received the two leading English po es to stand as fusion candida ord for the seat in Parliame used on the ground that the seat justice, be offered to As ident of the Classical Assoc dy of the most eminent Brist he made his last and pers ble address in May, 10:0 Humanities and the New which he made a brilliant pe uman letters without natur d no science without lettes 1 great doctor, a great scientist t benefactor, but, above al personality, with the power ething precious to every one he came in contact. They ha undantly for knowing him

Wasted

ELL beauty wastedway to keep it? for a lover wind and flower, ne autumn twilight come and reap itrs of splendor less hour.

NE of my friends is an eminent psychologist. He has published any number of articles, several books, and is a professor in one of our leading American universities. He is interested in the study of human conduct. So am I. We are both fond of argument and discussion, not only for "the fun of the thing," but also as one of many means of getting at the truth. What we argue about is, however, not problems of international politics, nor the merits and demerits of socialism, but questions in the field of science, philosophy, and, especially, psychology.

On many questions our arguments and discussions disclose the fact that we agree; on some questions we find that we do not as yet agree, though in time we may; but on one question our disagreement is persistent. That question interests each of us extremely; indeed, the answer to it is fundamental to each of our philosophical and psychological points of view.

The question on which we do not agree, and perhaps never shall, concerns the problem as to what is involved in the very process of argument itself. As regards this my friend and I start with different points of view, different convictions, different conclusions that we have reached as a result of training, study, and investigation. My friend tries by his argument, which he assumes to be, as an argument, logical, to convert me to his position, and accordingly to compel me logically to give up my own position. I likewise endeavor to turn him from what I regard as the error of his way, and to make him see things as I see them.

The interesting problem in the situation is this: My friend as a psychologist maintains that psychology is a science, and accordingly he accepts that which is

principle or highest common factor of science, namely, determinism. That he accepts the current and domina scientific point of view, that in natu there is no such thing as chance, but th whatever occurs must occur, just exact as it does occur, because of precedi causes; that wherever and whenever t same cause operates under the same co ditions, the same effect not only does, b must occur; that if precisely the sar causes and conditions never recur, b only similar and at least slightly differe and new congeries of causes and cond tions, then there is a cause for these diffe ences. This view was first intuited the Greeks, then lost sight of during t Middle Ages, only to be revived, howeve with the new birth of science in the wo of such pioneers as Leonardo, Copernicu Galileo, and Newton.

My friend carries out this view, or e deavors consistently to carry it out in h psychology. For him man is part of n ture-in fact, there is nothing that is n part of nature. Therefore, man is no e ception to the principle of scientific d terminism. Each individual is what now is because of the multiplicity of lin of causes and effects that recede i definitely far into the past, but that als as they come forward, converge in a upon the individual as upon a poin Those lines can perhaps, for convenien sake at least, be grouped as two, namel those of heredity and those of enviro ment, including under this last term phy ical, organic, and social conditions, fac and causes. My friend, as a psychologis is, of course, interested primarily in very special set of lines. As he argu with me he calls them, for brevity's sak ideas. Thinking-and he certainly wou have me think when he tries to convin me-is for him wholly a matter of t association of ideas. When I think, maintains, one idea follows another b

is otherwise, namely, by some "works" not causally but logic absolutely new does, after al Once upon a time living being and seemingly could not be, ye came when living beings were. possible became possible." also, there was no such thing as then later there was, and again something new. And not so lon did not think "evolution," bu least most "thinking" men do again there has been a genuine in the sense of the appearance thing new.

The basic question at issue Is the world in which we live and we are a part a completely prede sort of affair, or is it a world there are also novelties, creation cies, and initiations? I am c that the latter is the case, and only were reasoning and int themselves new things, but also t are now one means of initiati courses of events, one means of d Indeed, reasoning must itself ha a novelty in the course of event the time was when reasoning w spicuous by its absence, as it is n gether too inconspicuous in its p

While I do not think, then, t friend can consistently carry out ply his philosophy to all things, nevertheless admit that he succe markably well with it as regard things. There are many, indeed fa more things that are causally fix determined in this world than th things that are not, and among things is a good part of human c both individual and social, and environment in which human na nurtured. Shut in we are on ever by walls that the past has erected that are high and steep and strong at best only here and there an ind projecting stone, or a step by wh scale them.

Scale we cannot the barriers form our heritage either from the earth o the organic world of which we are By the chemical elements and the ical forces which are the same i bodies as they are in the surfac

namely, by something that t causally but logically. The new does, after all, appear. a time living beings were not ly could not be, yet the time iving beings were. The "imame possible." At one time, as no such thing as thinking: ere was, and again there was ew. And not so long ago men nk "evolution," but now at thinking" men do, so that has been a genuine evolution of the appearance of somequestion at issue is this: n which we live and of which a completely predetermined , or is it a world in which › novelties, creations, agetiations? I am convinced er is the case, and that not easoning and intelligence w things, but also that they means of initiating new nts, one means of creation. ning must itself have been he course of events, since when reasoning was conabsence, as it is now altoonspicuous in its presence. not think, then, that my istently carry out and ap phy to all things, I must mit that he succeeds rewith it as regards most re many, indeed far many it are causally fixed and these his world than there are among not, and part of human conduct, and social, and of the which human nature is in we are on every side : past has erected, walls I steep and strong, with and there an incline, a or a step by which to the barriers formed by the earth or from

art.

the product of the age-long processes of inorganic and organic evolution, there are erected walls that are impassable. "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."

Nor am I any more able to escape the confines which the forces of organic evolution have set in the way of reflexes and instincts, emotions and sensations. I am an active being, I "behave"; but I act and behave through my reflexes and instincts, emotions and sensations, in reaction to and upon the forces of the environment which nature has furnished mewhich are indeed nature herself. Those reflexes and instincts, emotions and sensations, are the product, through eons of time, of a set of causal factors that includes variation and natural selection, inheritance and the struggle for existence, as these forces have produced the multitudinous species of the beasts of the field and the forest, the birds of the air and the fishes of the sea. Their reflexes and instincts, emotions and sensations, are mine, and mine are theirs. They are my brothers. Our heritage is one and the same. And that heritage is derived from the primal characteristics of the first living forms.

But organic evolution is two-dimensional. Not only do its lines extend indefinitely far back into the past, but as those lines have come forward, they have also diverged with infinite variety. Man is not only like his ancestors and his brothers through an inheritance which he cannot transcend, but he is also different, perhaps very different, from any other living being. He is different both in quality and degree, and for this reason his biological evolution has been supplemented by a social evolution.

Man is more intelligent than any other living being a fact that could be established by submitting any would-be competitor to a sort of modern "intelligence test." He also has more instincts, though his instincts are less definite at birth, and in many cases slower to develop. Man is more capable of profiting by experience, of learning, thus to transform his inherited capacities into habits. and what

ment and law, economic orders, lite and science. All these form the body of tradition and of custom which every human being is born.

Among the many psychological acteristics of human beings there instinct to imitate, and the strong dency to form habits, certain habits themselves the product of this ver stinct to imitate. Thus, for exampl does not inherit one's native langua one inherits the color of the eye, bu guage is, nevertheless, inherited. It herited psychologically through the ess of the child imitating the sounds by his parents and others about him, the specific habit of speaking an thinking in a certain way is formed. when one thinks, one tends to thir words.

It is thus that the new accomp ments of the parents as well as what in turn psychologically inherited their parents and other human being inherited by the progeny. It is a chological, and not a physiologica heritance. The results of the abilit learn, to profit by experience, to in and discover, carried on from one ge tion to another, form a tradition, a of customs and institutions. This t tion the individual inherits psycho cally largely upon the basis of imita

Tradition, customs, institutions, psychological inheritance are thus s posed on or added to a strictly biolo and physiological inheritance. No the laws of the two inheritances the s for while there is much evidence biological inheritance conforms to much-discussed Mendelian Law, doubtful whether psychological in tance conforms to this law. The Me lian Law is a law of the inheritan independent pairs of mutually excl unit characters. Psychological in tance is much more a matter of f with and accumulation from the But its effects on human conduct a less profound than are the effect physiological inheritance.

One cannot scale the walls which nast has avanted in 11