Both combination and subdivision are intended to facilitate identification, by aiding us to arrive at this knowledge of species; for each species represents a distinct idea, whose correct definition is important to the progress of accurate science. This alone permits observation to be attributed to its right object, and when properly recorded, the information is secured for ever from error or obscurity. It is not, however, the gift of every mind to discern accurately even specific differences, or to form skilfully generic combinations. The very best favoured by nature,—for it is a natural gift, although under high cultivation,—have sometimes a bias towards seeing more than actually exists. Hence varieties are often elevated into species, and species thus overwhelmingly multiplied; and genera are frequently framed upon vague distinctions.

Species are the basis of all natural science.

A species in zoology is a combination of creatures which unites the sexes, and these being two, the assumed existence of neuters in some instances does not invalidate this, it comprises two individuals having independent existence, but whose co-existence is indispensable to perpetuation, but which often, from their great differences, no single set of scientific characters will bind together, yet which must exist in some undiscovered peculiarity, that individuals may be able to distinguish their legitimate partners. The species, therefore, is a complete unit in its entirety, although consisting of two distinct beings, for in the large majority of cases in zoology these sexes are distinct, although their conjunction is, in the higher forms of life, indispensable for their continuance. In some of the lower forms of animal life they exist in union, and in the vegetable kingdom we perceive every possible combination and modification of this conjunction, and in both of these life may be perpetuated also by simpler processes.

The species may consist of any indefinite number of individuals, and no law has hitherto been discovered which regulates the relative proportions of the sexes, although it is very apparent that some recondite influence operates to control it. It is also extremely remarkable to observe how eccentric nature is in some species, and the extent to which she sometimes carries the variation of some particular specific type, and to which some species are singularly prone, and yet how rigidly in other cases she adheres to the particular specific form in the succession of generations, that even the shadow of a deviation from the typical distinction is scarcely to be discovered: a reason for this it is hard to surmise. We may, nevertheless, conclude it to be certain that true species are ever distinct, and can no more coalesce, however closely they may approach together, than can asymptotes.

Specific differences result from many characteristics,—from colour, clothing, size, and sometimes from peculiarities of structure; but these last are usually of a higher order, tending to indicate an aberration, slight though it be, from the normal generic character which holds the group together, thus implying a distinctive economy. This is sometimes called a subgeneric attribute, and there might be a reason, certainly, for not elevating such species to the full rank of genera, were genera equivalents, which they are not, and it merely remains an evasive admission of the doubt that attaches, except for the sake of convenience, to any subdivision, but the specific.

The species is thus the very last term of subdivision, the very elemental principle itself, which unites together as one, solely for the purposes of perpetuation, the two sexes of similar individuals, and without whose intercourse the kind or species would die out.

That some species greatly abound in individuals, as before observed, whilst others appear to be extremely limited, is an absolute fact, and not merely suggested by a defective observation of their occurrence, resulting from their rapid dispersion. It is verified by being noticed to occur where we know they would resort, as is exemplified in the case of some of the parasitical species of the insects herein treated of, and which are sometimes rare, even in the vicinity of the metropolis of their sitos, and where this also greatly abounds. In other cases, other species absolutely swarm where the similar attraction lies.

Even supposing species to be the sole natural division, we may accept the superior combinations as means to aid us to a gradually extending survey of the whole. Perhaps did we possess all the links of the vast chain of beings we should find genera, and every other superior combination, melt away through the intimate alliance of the succession of species that would obliterate the lines of separation, by making the sutures imperceptible; but what mind could compass the detail of such a limitless unbroken series? Their subdivision may therefore be accepted as a positive necessity, to enable us to compass their investigation. As it at present stands, with our imperfect knowledge of the entire series of species, these higher groups are indispensably requisite.

The specific diagnosis being the only sure basis upon which all our knowledge can rest, its accuracy is all-important, and requires a few observations. It comprises two parts—the specific character, and the specific description. The difference between these is, that the first is constructed with the extremest brevity consistent with its utility, is fluctuating and not permanent. The latter permits all the diffuseness needful to embrace a full description of the creature.

The object of the first is to establish the present identity of the species amongst all its known congeners—those associated in the same genus;—and that of the second to secure it in its perpetual identity, and segregate it from all future and contingent discoveries. The specific character admits, consequently, modifications to suit any extension of the genus, and in fact exacts it at the hands of all who describe new species. This many naturalists undertake without any apparent consciousness of the scientific responsibilities that attach to it, and whence results the confusion so much to be deplored, of the synonymy that prevails, constituting, as it does, such a Dædalian labyrinth. The describer of a new species is bound to cast around, and endeavour to know all that has been previously done upon the subject of the genus. He has to revise all the specific characters within the genus, and mould them to those he introduces, and he must insert these closest to their evident affinities. Thus, therefore, the describer’s labour is not light, if to be of any value. The specific character, although thus varying, becomes a permanent utility, and only so fulfils its object,—that of rapidly showing, at a glance, the known species of a genus, and thereby permitting the speedy determination of the identity or distinctness of a compared object. If doubt should exist from this brevity, the specific description is at hand to solve it, by the amplitude and completeness of its details. Of course this mode of treatment is only suitable to monographs, or portions of the science discussed separately, and not to a general or universal survey.