standing" of the principle involved. In other words, there was a premium on "the dig." Occasionally, some rare, broad-minded professor recognized the true gifts of a boy who seemed indifferent to the requirements but displayed talent in other directions. To-day, even under the most catholic conception of the meaning of college, as a life more than a course, with our generous elective system, we fail to reach the latent ability of many a youth whose rank in the old-time requirements may be low but who has genius in other lines, as later life reveals. The president of a prominent college in New England has recently advocated the extension of the educational period that the student, before his course is finished, may be able both "to find himself" and "to make sure of himself." In contrast, however, with Thoreau's college opportunities seventy years ago, the student now has maximum chances to choose widely, to test and qualify his powers along myriad lines and, at least, "to find himself" and his specific interest.
There is much current defense of the smaller colleges on the ground of the closer relationship there between professor and student. Comparisons are also made between Harvard of sixty years ago, with two hundred students closely watched and encouraged by their thirty professors, and Harvard of to-day,
