of the situation and give us a hard answer to an easy question. We have not only to note what she does, but to find out why she does it, or rather why she doesn't do the reverse; for so perverse is nature that she never does any one thing unless she is cut off from doing all other possible things. It never rains when it could possibly do anything else; it is never clear when it could possibly rain. It has been shown that the crab runs sidewise, because such is the perverse nature of the crab, that if it could possibly run in any other way it would do so. The crab is a chip of the great block of Mother Nature. She is so perverse that she never does anything save when she has to. It is no easy thing to say why the limitations we find through experiment are inherent in the very nature of things.
And experimentation is no longer easy. All the obvious questions have been asked. All the obvious answers have been analyzed into infinite difficulties. It takes a master mind to devise a new problem. It takes almost infinite neatness and delicacy of touch to arrange the scenery, and infinite patience to wait for the result. To examine ten thousand minute eggs of a sea-urchin to see if perchance one has been fertilized in some impossible way, so as to eliminate all side conditions from an intricate problem—this requires enthusiasm and patience of a new order, a fanaticism for veracity not rewarded by the ringing of bells nor by scarlet sashes nor a coat with green palms. It can only be encouraged by the comradery of free-spirits, who value the fragment of truth which these methods bring, and who respect the man who gives his time and strength to know a little truth—to know it, not to guess it. Fanaticism for veracity—this is a good word, and those who heed it need all encouragement.
What we wish to encourage is not a specific achievement, but rather a habit of mind. To see clearly, to see deeply, to see with an understanding heart—this is the nature of research. It is not compilation, it is not publication, it is not the formation of curves, nor the giving of new names, nor the stacking up of columns of figures, though each or any of these may lie along the way as necessary accompaniments, as much a part of a piece of research as a walking-stick or a hat band is a part of a journey. 'Fanaticism for veracity' covers the whole matter, and as fanatics of a new order, F. F. V., with a new significance, we rally together under the sign of Sigma Xi.
Comrades in zeal for truth, we care enough for accuracy to sacrifice for it our money, our time, and even, if necessary, some of us give our lives for it. Enough of us have done so to show what the others of the brotherhood would do if placed under like circumstances or if subjected to like demands.
But experiment is not all of science. A large part of the work of scientific research must be simply descriptive, the attempt to record things in the world as they are—just as they are. It is dealing with
