practical value of physical science, will surely try to acquaint himself somewhat with those laws of drainage and of climate, geological, meteorological, chemical, which influence, often with terrible suddenness and fury, the health of whole armies.  He will not find it beyond his province to ascertain the amount and period of rainfalls, the maxima of heat and of cold which his troops may have to endure, and many another point on which their health and efficiency—­nay, their very life may depend, but which are now too exclusively delegated to the doctor, to whose province they do not really belong.  For cure, I take the liberty of believing, is the duty of the medical officer; prevention, that of the military.

Thus much I can say just now—­and there is much more to be said—­on the practical uses of the study of Natural History.  But let me remind you, on the other side, if Natural History will help you, you in return can help her; and would, I doubt not, help her, and help scientific men at home, if once you looked fairly and steadily at the immense importance of Natural History—­of the knowledge of the “face of the earth.”  I believe that all will one day feel, more or less, that to know the earth on which we live, and the laws of it by which we live, is a sacred duty to ourselves, to our children after us, and to all whom we may have to command and to influence; aye, and a duty to God likewise.  For is it not a duty of common reverence and faith towards Him, if He has put us into a beautiful and wonderful place, and given us faculties by which we can see, and enjoy, and use that place—­is it not a duty of reverence and faith towards Him to use these faculties, and to learn the lessons which He has laid open for us?  If you feel that, as I think you all will some day feel, then you will surely feel likewise that it will be a good deed—­I do not say a necessary duty, but still a good deed and praiseworthy—­to help physical science forward; and to add your contributions, however small, to our general knowledge of the earth.  And how much may be done for science by British officers, especially on foreign stations, I need not point out.  I know that much has been done, chivalrously and well, by officers; and that men of science owe them, and give them, hearty thanks for their labours.  But I should like, I confess, to see more done still.  I should like to see every foreign station, what one or two highly-educated officers might easily make it, an advanced post of physical science, in regular communication with our scientific societies at home, sending to them accurate and methodic details of the natural history of each district—­details 99/100ths of which might seem worthless in the eyes of the public, but which would all be precious in the eyes of scientific men, who know that no fact is really unimportant; and more, that while plodding patiently through seemingly unimportant facts, you may stumble on one of infinite importance, both scientific and practical.  For the student of nature, gentlemen, if he will be but patient, diligent, methodical, is liable at any moment to the same good fortune as befel Saul of old, when he went out to seek his father’s asses, and found a kingdom.