THE THREE-YEAR COURSE AT HARVARD.

More and more men in each class are now getting their degree in three years and taking a leave of absence in their fourth year. In the present class of 1902 the number has become so great that it seems to be a pretty important question whether in the long run such a course is for the best interest of the men, or not.

There are two obvious points in favor of the three-year course, or rather of getting the degree in three years. In the first place, when an outside business-man hears of it, he might say, "Ah, a rather bright boy and a good worker; he has done four years' work in three, and therefore ought to be a model of zealousness." This might influence him to give the fellow a position. But, when you look into the matter, this view is hardly the truth. For in general the men who get their degrees in three years are of two kinds: either they come from one of the big preparatory schools, having anticipated one or more subjects, so that they can easily get a degree with no more than ordinary work; or else they are actually a little quicker at learning than the average and, with the help of friends who have gone before, pick out courses of moderate difficulty and pass them off with a little extra cramming at examination times and a few more recitations a week. Here are, then, at least arguments to show that the first point may be looked at in two different ways.

The second point in favor of getting the degree in three years is that you thereby gain a year and get a start over the rest of your class. This, of course, is a great advantage to two types of men: first, those of limited means who are working their way through college and come here merely for the education,—and to these one year means a great deal—; second, those who are engaged and want to get married. But treating these two types as exceptions, let us see whether this one year's start in the world that a man gets over his classmates is all clear gain.

In the first place, to all intents and purposes you lose the best year of your college course, when most of the lasting friendships are cherished. In

the present social system at Harvard, the Freshman class during the first half-year goes round as a herd. Towards spring the various crowds separate off, and smaller sets begin to grow, which, during the Sophomore and Junior years, tend to crystalize and become more distinct, but again in the Senior year blend together so that the class goes out more of a unit and with more of a common fellowship. By taking a degree in three years a man loses entirely this reknitting influence; for either he goes away to travel, to work, or to some professional school out of Cambridge,--in which case he might as well have his degree and be a graduate, as he has practically dropped out of the college altogether and can come back but rarely-; or else he takes his fourth year in the Law or Graduate School in Cambridge. The latter course is in general not wholly advantageous. Unless of exceptional power of concentration a man is unable to do his best work in his School on account of outside undergraduate interests which he is loath to give up; or, if he is forced to give up all such interests, he sees very little of his friends and does little or no healthy loafing and talking with them. If he takes the first course, he really does not do himself justice in his work; and if he takes the second, he might as well drop out entirely and be an out and out graduate. The usual result, however, is likely to be a blending of the two methods; so that you end by never taking time for a comfortable chat without having your pleas· ure spoiled by the feeling that you ought to be at work, and yet spending so much time at it that you really do break up your best study.

But perhaps the greatest fault in the practice of getting a degree in three years is that, with the present social system at Harvard, a man, unless a decided exception, thereby cuts himself off from all the responsibilities of the college; for there is always someone ahead of him who prevents him from ever being "the big toad in the puddle." This is really a very great objection, for most men come here to get something out of college besides amassing a certain amount of facts and docketing them for future reference. They come for two other things, for the social interests and for the learning how to get on with and handle men. To have a try at running some organization, with all the worries and responsibilities incumbent upon it, is of great practi

cal advantage to a man. For if he takes hold and does his job well, disposes of the problems which arise, and makes a success of things, he has gained more in experience and judgment, and is better fitted to deal with the serious problems of life, than would ever have been possible if he had spent his year sitting at a desk. If, on the other hand, he tries to run something and fails to do it well, he has yet time to start again and profit by his first mistake. And his lesson is not so costly as if the first attempt had been made in later life in the outside world, where the shocks are harder and recovery necessarily more slow.

It might be argued, of course, that, no matter how long they stayed here, some men would never get to a position where they could run things. But the men who are fittest to run things are the ones most likely to go through in three years; and, in any case, no one can tell until he tries. Again, it might be said, "This is true, if a man goes away from Cambridge in his fourth year; but why can't he still run things, if he is in the Law School?" Unfortunately, as I have said before, a man can do this and not the Law School, or he can do the Law School and not this; but no man can possibly do botn well.

The last objection to taking a degree at the end of three years is that, by so doing, many men cut themselves off from the social side of college, which to most means a great deal. In every class there are a good many quiet fellows who do not become known until their Senior year, owing to shyness or to less adaptability in getting on with other men. If men of this type bury themselves in business, or in a graduate or professional school, they miss the broadening and developing which results from such social intercourse and which sends them out stamped with the gentlemanly adaptability and self-possession essential to success in the world.

Therefore, to my mind, while the social system of Harvard remains as it is, taking a degree at the end of three years has for most men distinct disadvantages which more than counterbalance the one year's start they get over their classmates.

B. Wendell, Jr.

ON LISTENING.

(An echo from "The Tatler.")

One of the chief reasons why so few men appear agreeable in conversation is that the greater number, when conversing, are thinking far more of that which they purpose to say when they shall have opportunity, than of duly attending and replying to that which is being addressed to them at the moment. Though nothing could seem plainer than this: that, if there is to be profitable exchange of opinion, there must needs be listening as well as speaking; yet do we daily see men who are as careless of the former as they are eager and persistent in the latter; who show by a hundred little signs such as wanderings of the eye and movements of the lip that they think of nothing save how they may begin when you shall have made an end. I think La Rochefoucauld has put among his excellent Maxims a very similar reflection which is indeed worthy to be made the starting point for much excellent advice. For not only is this indifference on the part of him who should be listener such as may well discourage or even disgust the one who is speaking, so that either he will not proceed or he will become more concerned with how he may force attention than with the substance of his argument; but further than this, the one to whom it is all addressed knows no more at the end than his old opinion, which may thus remain foolish and stubborn as ever: for he has made no real exchange, but merely set forth his own view of the matter. How much will such behaviour injure a man's reputation for wisdom and agreeableness, even though he display no little of both in other activities!

At the Coffee-House last evening I fell into conversation with a young fellow I know but little concerning the affair of Lord Darlington's Wiltshire property. Having heard him with all civility, I began in my turn. But all the time I was speaking my man was continually fidgeting in his chair; his glance wandered about the room; and his lips moved with constant desire of

speech; so that I did not need his next words to show me he knew not a tenth part of what I had been saying. I confess after a time his manner so vexed me that I presently made some excuse to leave him. I have often wished to say to such men when I could endure them no longer: Sirrah, do me the justice to use your ears but half as willingly as you do your tongue, and we will continue. If I am merely to soliloquize, I do not need you at all.

Harold Stanley Pollard.

THE DISINTEGRATION OF HARVARD COLLEGE.

A Princeton graduate the other day expressed-to me his view of the relative merits of Harvard and his own Alma Mater in these words:"Princeton-he said-is a first rate college and Harvard is a second rate university." Feeling strongly that some form of exception ought to be taken to this, I reminded him that we have here a college within a university. “True—he replied—you have the fossil remains of a college, but even they will not be long in disappearing."

The first criticism we may fairly pass over. Doubtless Harvard, as a university, is second rate in comparison with some of the universities abroad. But time, as well as money, enters into the formation of a university, and Harvard is still in the process of development. Let us then reserve judgment until the work is complete.

The statement that Harvard College is disintegrating has more of justice in it. The greatest good a college has to offer is a knowledge of men, resulting from the communion of one man with another in a spirit born of common interest. Here at Harvard the elective system and the resulting three-year course, by breaking down the barriers. by breaking down the barriers between classes, have destroyed much of that common interest arising from class feeling. The large and increasing size of the classes makes any common interest at all, on any broad lines, well nigh impossible. This unwieldy size and