range of subjects--we need only recall to our minds the introduction
of general history, chemistry, physiology and the modern
languages--but the time has not been lengthened by a single year. The
student's time is more broken up than before: the direct influence
exerted by the professor is less. Our recognition of these and kindred
facts, however, should be something more than a vain regret for the
good old past. All these changes are concessions made to the spirit
of the age. Our generation demands--and very rightfully, too--that the
sphere of knowledge be enlarged, that the sciences of Nature receive
sufficient attention. To attempt to undo what has been done, to
restore the curriculum to the antiquated cadre of Latin and Greek,
trigonometry, mental science and rhetoric, would be a reaction as
senseless as hopeless.

Let us be just to ourselves and just to our colleges. We, the public,
clamored for new studies, and the colleges had to meet the demand,
because, by force of circumstances, they were the only places where
the changes could be effected. But in our praisworthy desire for
progress we have not considered sufficiently whether the colleges were
in truth the proper places for innovation; whether we were bringing
in our innovations in the right way and at the right time; whether
we were in a fair way of making our colleges what we seek to make
them--namely, centres of learning. To discuss all these points would
be equivalent to discussing the question of education in all its
phases, from the primary school to the university. For the present
we must limit ourselves to understanding and appreciating fairly the
position of our professors.

That position is not only a trying, but a discouraging one. The
greater part of the professor's time is spent--from the point of