The necessities which we compared roughly to time and space--the proximate permanent group and the adjacent locality--give a value to man’s animal routine, and a significance to the area of his every-day perceptions. It is when the division of labour, the requital of one service by a different one, becomes prominent in a community, that a further grasp is laid upon the distinctive capacities of the individual consciousness, in which must be reckoned the surroundings which constitute its horizon of possibilities. We still answer the general question, “What is he?” by naming a man’s industry or profession. The family and the neighbourhood sustain and colour the individual life, but the vocation stamps and moulds it. The more definite and articulate summons of the organising world--in which of course intelligence is active, ever discerning new purposes in old routine--elicits a deeper response from, or takes a more concrete shape in, the particular centre of consciousness. The individual has his own nature communicated to him as he is summoned to fit himself for rendering a distinctive service to the common good. He becomes “something”; an incarnation of a factor in the social idea. The Roman word “class,” which the English language has adopted, not for every separate employment, but for the character and position roughly connected with a whole group of employments, has an origin worth recalling. Plato’s classes {313} were “_genera_” = clans, extended families. The German classes were “Stände” = statuses, positions, estates (compare the French “état,” which practically = trade). But the Roman “classis” was “a summoning” to public service; the first and second classes were the first and second summonings; [1] then indeed to military service in an order based on wealth. But the idea may survive. Our “class” may be thought of as the group or body in which we are called out for distinctive service. [1] _Mommsen Rom. Hist_., i. 101, E. tr. The “_classicus_” was the trumpet.