let research flourish for advertising purposes in the catalogue when there is nothing of it in the laboratory. Dishonesty and humbugery in scholarship and in education probably are the meanest, because the most injurious, of all forms of rascality; and yet, though there should be none of it, who can be found willing to say that it is even uncommon?
America, as already stated, is not doing her share of creative work, and this inexcusable negligence is far more pronounced in the southern states than it is anywhere else, though no section is free from blame—no institution can claim to be ideal. This is not due to racial peculiarities, to want of material equipment, nor to an inordinate struggle for wealth, but chiefly to the atmosphere of the university, to the environment in which the university professor is placed and upon which he must depend for his daily intellectual stimulus.
For schools, academies and colleges that confine themselves strictly to elementary work, creative scholarship on the part of the teachers is not so imperative, but, as the reputation of every institution is that of the work it does and no more, therefore, in the case of those that wish to justify their claims to the title of university, let every important chair, irrespective of the present or prospective quantity of graduate work, be filled only by a man who has contributed something to the advancement of his subject, and who is likely to continue doing so. Such a man, because of his love for his specialty, and because of his thoroughness, usually is an enthusiastic teacher and often an inspiring one—the highest qualification. He who is not a research man seldom induces the love of knowledge in others—blood doesn't come from turnips.
In the name of civilization and of human progress let no position that presupposes scholarship and offers the sacred privilege of doing work be filled save by him who recognizes that in this case opportunity means duty. The ideal man is one who has a sympathetic appreciation for all sciences and a minute knowledge of his own specialty—one who knows something about everything and everything about something, for nothing short of this can give that accuracy and that resourcefulness essential to the solution of difficult problems, nor that alertness and breadth of view so necessary to the detection and to the understanding of new phenomena. To be sure, the ideal man seldom is found, but it is better to hunt long for the ideally good, than, as sometimes seems to be the case, quickly to secure the ideally bad.
This, then, the careful selection of his faculty, selection and promotion according to their productive ability (for by their fruits ye shall know them), is the president's first and greatest obligation. Nor is this impracticable, for it is the avowed and fruitful policy of the president of one of our leading universities, a policy fully approved by his board, and supported by the legislature to which he is responsible.
Another important thing the president can do—and one of our best
