make some remarks. All had known him from birth and had confidence in his ability to speak to the purpose, and, having obtained his father's consent, proposed the matter to him. Learning that his father was willing, he readily acceded. There was a full attendance. Albion took his seat in the rear of the house, and, after the President, a worthy Free will Baptist clergyman, and others had spoken, he was invited to offer remarks. He rose, calm and collected, with the dignity of a man and the modesty of a child and began, traced the downward career of a child taught to partake of alcoholic drinks, step by step along his downward course, and pictured his wretched end, contrasting the onward and upward life of all who early resolved upon a life of temperance, illustrating his point by referring to some eminent men whose names he mentioned. The company was held almost spell-bound at such an address from a child. Elder Shaw, the President, afterward said to the father: "Albion beat us all.' Albion was fitted at Gorham Academy under the highly reputed Rev. Reuben Nason, entered in 1833 at the age of fifteen. Of his college days, the writer adopts the account given by Hon. Peleg W. Chandler, LL.D., who, though three years in advance of him, became acquainted with him in college and was an intimate friend in professional and public life. "He is remembered as a bright, genial boy, of curly hair and a somewhat peculiar appearance, short, very thick, and his head and body out of proportion to the lower extremities. He was not adapted to the ordinary college sports, in which he appeared to take very little interest. As a scholar he was among the lowest in the class, and had no part at commencement. But he was by no means an idler. On the contrary, he was constantly occupied in general reading, greatly interested in current literature, and always ready for discussion, especially of political topics. He was popular among all without any effort to be so, and always so genial, without the least self-consciousness, as to render him an unusual favorite. He was not regarded as dull, very much the contrary; but he seemed indifferent to the ordinary routine of college honors; possessed of that happy temperament which enabled him then, and for so many years afterward, to pass quietly along without a touch of the emulous jealousies and temptations that wait on the ambitious aspirations of the young as well as the old. After graduation he entered on professional study in Boston, which henceforward became the scene of his labors at the Bar and of his public life. His friend, Mr. Chandler, has done justice to his memory in the paper which he prepared for the Massachusetts Historical Society, and in a volume, just from the press, containing, besides that memoir, personal reminiscences, two literary discourses hitherto unpublished, and his valedictory address on retiring from the gubernatorial chair, which is regarded as exhibiting statesmanship of a high order.

Nothing has been said of the history of the college since it entered on what may be called its new era when the District of Maine became an independent State. It remains to make a general and brief statement of its subsequent growth. At that date, 1820, it had one dormitory, Maine Hall, a small chapel of wood, in the second story of which was the library of about five thousand volumes. Massachusetts Hall, in which were lecture rooms, apartments for the philosophical apparatus, for chemicals and the laboratory etc., the mineralogical cabinet and the gallery of paintings thus occupying the two lower stories, while the third was devoted to the Medical School and a president's house. The president, two professors and two or three tutors constituted its corps of teachers. A little later three professors were added, and it is somewhat remarkable, and what has been thought to have been for the advantage of the institution, that of these five professors, one having retired for another position, four were in harmonious, uninterrupted service nearly forty years. The world without cannot fully estimate the self-denying labor of those years; but the good name of Alumni herein specially noted, and of many more, who have done credit to themselves and to their Alma-Mater, whose memory is fondly cherished, proves, that much, amidst embarrassment and discouragement, was effected, and that a tribute of respect and gratitude is due to men who gave their best to the college. It was affirmed at a commencement dinner a few years ago that the life of the college had always been a struggle with poverty. More recently, liberal friends have afforded substantial relief, although the institution in its resources falls behind some whose origin is coeval or even of later date. The college now numbers in its academic and medical departments sixteen professors and four instructors. Its library contains about 35,000 volumes, and is much more valuable than its size indicates. Liberal accessions have been made to its cabinets of natural science, its means of instruction have been increased, and in the quality of its instruction it has kept pace with improved methods. There are now three dormitories; Massachusetts Hall, which, through the munificence of one of its honored alumni, has been renovated in its interior, the two upper stories having been thrown into one and making the Cleaveland cabinet of mineralogy, geology and conchology, one of the most spacious and beautiful apartments in the country; Adams Hall, for the accommodation of the medical school and other uses of the college; a chapel with two towers, in the Romanesque style, in which is the college library and art gallery, much enlarged from what it was; a laboratory; and the Memorial Hall, French Gothic in style, the upper story designed for the art gallery, the second for public exhibitions of the college, and the lowest, it may be, for a gymnasium. There are scholarships and funds for the relief of those that need it, and competitive prizes offered, and last, though not least, as appealing to the eye of the visitor, the barren waste of the college yard" of forty

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or more years ago, with scarcely a tree or shrub except the balm of Gileads on its borders, now embracing three or fourfold the space it then contained, well shaded with lindens, maples and elms, with its green sward and pasterres of shrubbery and flowers, makes the college campus one of the most spacious and attractive.

ALPHEUS S. PACKARD.

POLITICAL ORGANİZATION IN GENERAL.

The mere gathering of individuals into a group does not constitute them a society. A society, in the sociological sense, is formed only when, besides juxtaposition there is co-operation. So long as members of the group do not combine their energies to achieve some common end or ends, there is little to keep them together. They are prevented from separating only when the wants of each are better satisfied by uniting his efforts with those of others than they would be if he acted alone.

Co-operation, then, is at once that which cannot exist without a society, and that for which a society exists. It may be a joining of many strengths to effect something which the strength of no single man can effect; or it may be an apportioning of different activities to different persons, who severally participate in the benefit of one another's activities. The motive for acting together, originally the dominant one, may be defense against enemies; or it may be the easier obtainment of food by the chase of others; or it may be, and commonly is, both of these. In any case, however, the units pass from the state of perfect independence to the state of mutual dependence; and as fast as they do this they become united into a society, rightly so called.

But co-operation implies organization. If acts are to be effectually combined, there must be arrangements under which they are adjusted in their times, amounts and characters.

This social organization, necessary as a means to concerted action, is of two kinds. Though these two kinds generally co-exist, and are more or less interfused, yet they are distinct in their origins and natures. There is a spontaneous co-operation which grows up without thought during the pursuit of private ends; and there is a cooperation which, consciously devised, implies distinct recognition of public ends. The ways in which the two are respectively established and carried on present marked contrasts.

Whenever, in a primitive group, there begins that co-operation which is effected by exchange of services-whenever individuals find their wants better satisfied by giving certain products which they can make best, in return for other products they are less skilled

in making, or not so well circumstanced for making, there is initiated a kind of organization which then and throughout its higher stages results from endeavors to meet personal needs. The division of labor, to the last as at first, grows by experience of mutual facilitations in living. Each new specialization of industry arises from the effort of one who commences it to get profit, and establishes itself by conducing in some way to the profit of others. So that there is a kind of concerted action, with the elaborate social organization developed by it, which does not originate in deliberate concert. Though it is true that within the small subdivisions of this organization we find everywhere repeated the relation of employer and employed, of whom the one directs the actions of the other; yet this relation, spontaneously formed in the pursuit of private ends and continued only at will, is not made with conscious reference to achievement of public ends; ordinarily these are not thought of. And though, for the regulating of trading activities, there eventually arise agencies serving to adjust the supplies of commodities to the demands; yet such agencies do this not by direct stimulations or restraints; but simply by communicating information which serves to stimulate or restrain; and, further, these agencies themselves grow up not for the intended purpose of thus regulating, but in the pursuit of gain by individuals. So unintentionally has there arisen the elaborate division of labor by which production and distribution are now carried on, that only in modern days has there come a recognition of the fact that it has all along been arising.

On the other hand, that co-operation which unites the actions of individuals for a purpose immediately concerning the whole society is a conscious co-operation, and is carried on by an organization of another kind, arising in a different way. When the primitive group has to defend itself against other groups, its members act together under further stimuli than those constituted by purely personal desires. Even at the outset, before any control by a chief exists, there is the control exercised by the group over its members; each of whom is obliged, by the consensus of opinion, to join in the general defense. Very soon the warrior of recognized superiority begins to exercise over each, during war, an influence additional to that exercised by the opinion of the group; and when his authority becomes established it greatly furthers combined action. From the beginning, therefore, this kind of social co-operation is a conscious co-operation, and a co-operation which is not wholly a matter of choice-is often much at variance with private wishes. As the organization initiated by it develops, we see that, in the first place, the fighting division of the society displays in a more marked degree these same traits: the grades and divisions constituting an army, co-operate more and more under the regulation, consciously established, of agencies which over-ride individual volitions-or, to

speak strictly, control individuals by motives which prevent them from acting as they would spontaneously act. In the second place, we see that throughout the society as a whole there spreads a kindred form of organization-kindred in so far that, for the purpose of maintaining the militant organization and the government which directs it, there are similarly established over citizens agencies which force them to labor more or less largely for public ends instead of private ends. And simultaneously there develops a further organization, still akin in its fundamental principle, which restrains individual activities in such wise that social safety shall not be endangered by the disorder consequent on unchecked pursuit of personal ends. So that this kind of social organization is distinguished from the other as arising through conscious pursuit of public ends, in furtherance of which individual wills are constrained, first of all by the joint wills of the entire group, and afterwards more definitely by the will of a regulative agency which the group evolves.

Most clearly shall we perceive the contrast between these two kinds of organization on observing that, while they are both instrumental to social welfare, they are instrumental in converse ways. That organization shown us by the division of labor for industrial purposes exhibits combined action; but it is a combined action which directly seeks and subserves the welfares of individuals, and indirecty subserves the welfare of society as a whole by preserving individuals. Conversely, that organization evolved for governmental and defensive purposes exhibits combined action; but it is a combined action which directly seeks and subserves the welfare of the society as a whole, and indirectly subserves the welfare of individuals by preserving the society. Efforts for self-preservation by the units originate the one form of organization; while efforts for self-preservation by the aggregate originate the other form of organization. In the one case there is conscious pursuit of private ends only; and the correlative organization resulting from this pursuit of private ends, growing up unconsciously, is without coercive power. In the other case there is conscious pursuit of public ends; and the correlative organization, consciously established, exercises coercion.

Of these two kinds of co-operation and the structures effecting them, we are here concerned only with one. Political organization is to be understood as that part of social organization which consciously carries on directive and restraining functions for public ends. It is true, as already hinted, and as we shall see presently, that the two kinds are mingled in various ways-that each ramifies through the other more or less according to their respective degrees of predominance. But the two are essentially different in origin and nature; and for the present we must, so far as may be, limit our attention to the last.