arly and works late; he is most practical in
his own particular specialty, but often most impractical outside of it;
he is plodding, patient, painstaking, and will follow a microbe you can
not see, as Thompson-Seton's hunter followed the famous Kootenay ram.

This simple reverence for the truth--this passion for an idea--this
desire to know--these things have given to the world some of its richest
treasures. We are aware of what the Rockfellers have done, but we seldom
stop to think of the unknown laboratory students, who made possible such
vast and far-reaching institutions as the Standard Oil Company, the
Carborundum Company, the Amalgamated Copper Company, and the various
beet-sugar factories, that give work to thousands, and lift whole
counties, and even some States, from penury to plenty.

Germany honors her scholars; and one of the strongest instincts of her
national life is her search for genius. Initiative is originality in
motion. Originality is too rare to flout and scout. Not all originality
is good, but all good things, so far as humanity is concerned, were once
original. That is to say, they were the work of Genius.

Germany's sympathy for the best in thought has occasionally been broken
in upon by pigmy rulers, who, for the moment, had a giant's power, so it
seems hardly possible that a government which encouraged Goethe should
have banished Wagner. The greatness of Kant was largely owing to the
fact that he was set apart by Frederick and made free to do his work;
and at this time, not another monarchy in the world would have had the
insight to keep its coarse hands off this little man with the big head
and the brain of a prophet.

And as Kant was the greatest and most original thinker of his time, so
today does a German University house the world's greatest living
scientist. Ernst Haeckel has been Professor of Natural History at Jena
for forty-two years. All the efforts of various other Universities to
lure him away have failed. He even declined to listen to the siren song
of Major Pond, and only smiled at the big baits dangled on long poles
from Cook County, Illinois.

"I have everything I want, everything I can use is right here; why
should I think of uprooting my life?" he asked. And yet, Jena, there in
the shadow of the Thuringian Mountains, is only a little town of less
than ten thousand inhabitants.

In Nineteen Hundred Three, there were five hundred pupils registered at
Jena, as against four