tions, however, would be of much service to the zoologist, who would want to have all the essential characteristics distinguishing man from the other animals of his class and order carefully indicated.

With regard to the form, care must be taken to see that the differentia does not repeat the term to be defined, nor use any term derived from the same root. Trying to define a term by means of virtually the same term would be like traveling in a circle; no advance would be made. Thus, to define freedom as" the ability to act freely " would be inadmissible. It is advisable, also, that a definition should be couched in as simple and concise a form as possible. Other things being equal, the simpler and more concise a definition is the better. Dr. Johnson's famous definition of network as "anything reticulated or decussated, at equal distances, with intersections between the interstices," is a good illustration of the definition which violates the principle of simplicity. Simplicity, however, is a relative term, and there are times when the learned word is unavoidable. The following definition of evolution by Herbert Spencer, though not couched in terms very familiar to the average man, would probably not be greatly improved either in lucidity or in precision if it were much simplified: "Evolution is a continuous change from an indefinite incoherent homogeneity to a definite coherent heterogeneity through successive differentiations and integrations."

A logical definition is not of itself, of course, sufficient to present the full content of an idea. It may serve as a sort of nucleus out of which the complete

explanation may grow, or as a means of putting the gist of the explanation succinctly before the reader; but it cannot take the place of the complete discourse. To be able to grasp the full meaning of a thought or conception, the reader must have a thorough analysis of what it contains. This means a presentation of its main points from as many different sides as possible. Hence a definition, if it be made the starting point of an exposition, must be enlarged upon. An expository composition of the defining kind may, indeed, be regarded simply as an expanded definition.

In the following examples the student will observe that the writers begin with a simple definition or description, which may easily be put into the form of a logical definition, and follow this up by showing what the definition implies as well as expresses in explicit terms:

Science is, I believe, nothing but trained and organized common sense, differing from the latter only as a veteran may differ from a raw recruit: and its methods differ from those of common sense only so far as the guardsman's cut and thrust differ from the manner in which a savage wields his club. The primary power is the same in each case, and perhaps the untutored savage has the more brawny arm of the two. The real advantage lies in the point and polish of the swordsman's weapon; in the trained eye quick to spy out the weakness of the adversary; in the ready hand prompt to follow it on the instant. But after all, the sword exercise is only the hewing and poking of the clubman developed and perfected.

So, the vast results obtained by Science are won by no

mystical faculties, by no mental processes other than those which are practised by every one of us in the humblest and meanest affairs of life. A detective policeman discovers a burglar from the marks made by his shoe, by a mental process identical with that by which Cuvier restored the extinct animals of Montmartre from fragments of their bones. Nor does that process of induction and deduction by which a lady, finding a stain of a peculiar kind upon her dress, concludes that somebody has upset the inkstand thereon, differ in any way, in kind, from that by which Adams and Leverrier discovered a new planet.1

If I were asked to describe as briefly and popularly as I could, what a University was, I should draw my answer from its ancient designation of a Studium Generale, or "School of Universal Learning." This description implies the assemblage of strangers from all parts in one spot:from all parts; else, how will you find professors and students for every department of knowledge? and in one spot; else, how can there be any school at all? Accordingly, in its simple and rudimental form, it is a school of knowledge of every kind, consisting of teachers and learners from every quarter. Many things are requisite to complete and satisfy the idea embodied in this description; but such as this a University seems to be in its essence, a place for the communication and circulation of thought, by means of personal intercourse, through a wide extent of country.

But I have said more than enough in illustration; I end as I began;-a University is a place of concourse, whither students come from every quarter for every kind of knowledge. You cannot have the best of every kind everywhere;

you must go to some great city or emporium for it. There you have all the choicest productions of nature and art all together, which you find each in its own separate place elsewhere. All the riches of the land, and of the earth, are carried up thither, there are the best markets, and there the best workmen. It is the center of trade, the supreme court of fashion, the umpire of rival talents, and the standard of things rare and precious. It is the place for seeing galleries of first-rate pictures, and for hearing wonderful voices and performers of transcendent skill. It is the place for great preachers, great orators, great nobles, great statesmen. In the nature of things, greatness and unity go together; excellence implies a center. And such, for the third or fourth time, is a University; I hope I do not weary out the reader by repeating it. It is the place to which a thousand schools make contributions; in which the intellect may safely range and speculate, sure to find its equal in some antagonist activity, and its judge in the tribunal of truth. It is a place where inquiry is pushed forward, and discoveries verified and perfected, and rashness rendered innocuous, and error exposed, by the collision of mind with mind, and knowledge with knowledge. It is the place where the professor becomes eloquent, and is a missionary and a preacher, displaying his science in its most complete and most winning form, pouring it forth with the zeal of enthusiasm, and lighting up his own love of it in the breasts of his hearers. It is the place where the catechist makes good his ground as he goes, treading in the truth day by day into the ready memory, and wedging and tightening it into the expanding reason. It is a place which wins the admiration of the young by its celebrity, kindles the affections of the middle-aged by its beauty, and rivets the fidelity of the old by its associations. It is a seat of wisdom, a light of the world, a minister of the faith, an Alma Mater of the rising generation. It is this

and a great deal more, and demands a somewhat better head and hand than mine to describe it well.1

The correlative of definition is classification. Classification may be defined simply as the explaining of the relationship, or lack of relationship, subsisting among a series of things in such a way that these things fall naturally into distinct groups. As Huxley expresses it, the classification of any series of objects means "the actual, or ideal, arrangement together of those which are like and the separation of those which are unlike; the purpose of this arrangement being to facilitate the operations of the mind in clearly conceiving and retaining in the memory the characters of the objects in question." 2

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Exposition of this kind is based upon the logical division. In its strictly logical sense, the term "" division means simply the breaking up of a genus into its constituent species. In its freer and more literary use, however, the term means much more than this. The object of expository division, or classification as it is more commonly called, is not so much to give an exact enumeration of the species into which a genus may be divided as to enable the writer to take a comprehensive and systematic survey of the whole and of the parts. Hence it takes into account the purpose the writer had in mind in making the classification, and allows him to adapt it to that pur

1 From Newman's "What is a University"; see his Historical Sketches, Vol. III, chapter ii.

2 See Huxley's Introduction to the Classification of Animals.