He was admirably fitted for
his duties, and with the added influence of the Philosophical Union
contributed much to the value of the university. A genial and kindly
man, with a keen sense of humor, he was universally and deeply respected
by the students and by his associates. He made philosophy almost
popular, and could differ utterly from others without any of the common
results of antagonism, for he generated so much more light than heat.
His mind was so stored that when he began to speak there seemed to be no
reason aside from discretion why he should ever stop.

I enjoyed to the full one little business incident with him. In my
publications I followed a somewhat severe style of typography,
especially priding myself on the possession of a complete series of
genuine old-style faces cast in Philadelphia from moulds cut a hundred
and seventy years ago. In these latter days a few bold men have tried to
improve on this classic. One Ronaldson especially departed from the
simplicity and dignity of the cut approved by Caxton, Aldus, and
Elzevir, and substituted for the beautiful terminal of, say the capital
T, two ridiculous curled points. I resented it passionately, and
frequently remarked that a printer who would use Ronaldson old-style
would not hesitate to eat his pie with a knife. One day Professor
Howison (I think his dog "Socrates" was with him) came into my office
and inquired if I had a cut of old-style type that had curved terminals
on the capital Ts. I had no idea why he asked the question; I might have
supposed that he wanted the face, but I replied somewhat warmly that I
had not, that I had never allowed it in the shop, to which he replied
with a chuckle, "Good! I was afraid I might get them."

Professor Howison furnished one of the best stories of the great
earthquake of 1906. In common with most people, he was in bed at
fourteen minutes past five on the 18th of April. While victims generally
arose and dressed more or less, the Professor calmly remained between
the sheets, concluding that if he was to die the bed would be the most
fitting and convenient place to be in. It took more than a full-grown
earthquake to disturb his philosophy.

JOSIAH ROYCE

It is doubtful if any son of California has won greater recognition than
Josiah Royce, born in Grass Valley in November, 1855. In 1875 he
graduated at the University of California. After gaining his Ph.D. at
Johns Hopkins, he returned to his _alma mater_ and