remember something of the process of learning; and, whether in the simpler or the more complex forms, every one recognizes the products of learning in the results of scholarship and science. Perhaps one term, "the world," may give us pause. Are we to think of the scholar as abiding in his own world, apart from the rest of human life? Are we not rather to think of the scholar and the scientist as living in that world which is composed of all men, sharing their interests, their sorrows, and their joys? Yet we must not forget the New Testament usage with respect to the word in question, the "world." Is the scholar actually to be part and parcel of that world which is transient, dark, and deceived-that world which is finally overcome? It may be that he now far more than previously conceives of himself as a man among men, but he dare not regard himself as conformed to a world which is not yet saved. My topic will not appear too remote from the subject announced when I call it: "The Rutgers Scholar and Scientist, in the World, but Not of It."

Seven generations of scholars has Rutgers College sent out from her halls of contemplation into the life of America. What sort of persons have they been? Possibly the classes of a recent vintage differ in more than one respect from the students I knew some twenty years ago. Possibly when they leave they find themselves at home a little more quickly in large cities and great and involved undertakings, or in other and larger institutions of learning. And yet I am ready to believe that in essentials they now are, and always have been, what they then were, and that the following description might fit the Rutgers scholar of any period.

He is not sophisticated; he is at first unfamiliar with numerous things one has to learn in the world, some of them better learned late than too early. He has to acquire by conscious effort many items of knowledge that a man in a populous university unconsciously absorbs from the very atmosphere. But he knows a few things

well; and, above all, he is, in comparison with the machine made product of more than one large and unwieldy institution, truly an individual. The men who have gone out from Rutgers may have been, in their time, somewhat ignorant of worldly affairs, but they have been men of essential power; men, one may aver, of unspoiled powers. From the number of those who have learned to observe, compare, and infer for themselves come the race of scholars and scientists.

How many names there are in the long roll of Rutgers scholars! Our fellow alumnus, Dr. Augustus H. Shearer, is compiling a bibliography of the books and articles produced by men who have been connected with the College, and hence I am free from the embarrassment of trying to enumerate the many learned individuals whose names should go into such a list. If we began to count, where should we stop? I have, indeed, made a selection of three score that I should like to discuss particularly; but, considering the limits of time, I can mention only a few of these, and very cursorily.

Among the foremost have been: Jeremiah Smith, of the class of 1780, a man of great erudition; John Romeyn Brodhead; Talbot W. Chambers; David D. Demarest, the noble father of our President; John De Witt, of the class of 1838; Philip J. Hoedemaker, a man of wide learning in theology, writing entirely in the Dutch language; Dr. Edward G. Janeway, of the class of 1860, in America the leading physician of his generation; Edward A. Bowser, of the class of 1868, who produced highly useful textbooks of mathematics; Professor Louis Bevier, at home alike in ancient and modern languages; Edward B. Voorhees, well known for his writings on agriculture; Professor John C. Van Dyke, interpreter of painting and of external nature-and among more recent graduates, Dr. Henry H. Janeway, Professor J. L. R. Morgan, Professor James Westfall Thompson, Professor Richard S. Lull, Professor Jacob G. Lipman.

But I must not prolong the enumeration. Not all our

scholars and scientists have been productive in the sense of publishing many books. The characteristic of the Rutgers scholar and scientist, as it seems to me, has been his power of transmitting his own living thought directly to students, in an intellectual current which has gone from man to man, and from the teacher of one generation to him who was to be a teacher of the next. And that, after all, is the best form of expression-where one man writes in the heart of another. At the same time we have had men productive in the stricter sense as well. Some have already been mentioned. But I make bold to single out the late George W. Hill, of the class of 1859, an authority on celestial mechanics, and Professor Albert S. Cook of the class of 1872, a master in the field of the English language and literature, as preeminent for their published researches, respectively, in pure science and humane learning. These two, in their several provinces, have achieved as much as any others of their time in this or any other country-as much as many others, be they who they may, and come they from what institutions they may come.

"Man looks before and after," say the philosopher and the poet. Upon an anniversary occasion like this, retrospect is not more fascinating than anticipation. What of the future?

The scholar is often pitied, I believe, because he does not know the world. Is the world ever pitied because it does not understand the scholar? The time is coming, I trust, when this country will better appreciate the needs of pure scholarship and pure science, and will cease to measure their value in terms of lower utility and immediate application. The present tendency in American education may seem to be utilitarian; the superficial current may actually be so. But the eternal current of the human spirit sweeps on beneath resistlessly, and the permanent interest of mankind remains in the world of ideas. In our colleges, at all events, let there be no mistake. If after-life must often be "practical," education