them beforehand that the mere removal of the ivy would not brighten
Oxford up, unless at the same time one cleared the stones of the old
inscriptions, put in steel fire-escapes, and in fact brought the
boarding houses up to date.

But Henry VIII being dead, nothing was done. Yet in spite of its
dilapidated buildings and its lack of fire-escapes, ventilation,
sanitation, and up-to-date kitchen facilities, I persist in my
assertion that I believe that Oxford, in its way, is the greatest
university in the world. I am aware that this is an extreme statement
and needs explanation. Oxford is much smaller in numbers, for
example, than the State University of Minnesota, and is much poorer.
It has, or had till yesterday, fewer students than the University of
Toronto. To mention Oxford beside the 26,000 students of Columbia
University sounds ridiculous. In point of money, the 39,000,000
dollar endowment of the University of Chicago, and the $35,000,000
one of Columbia, and the $43,000,000 of Harvard seem to leave Oxford
nowhere. Yet the peculiar thing is that it is not nowhere. By some
queer process of its own it seems to get there every time. It was
therefore of the very greatest interest to me, as a profound scholar,
to try to investigate just how this peculiar excellence of Oxford
arises.

It can hardly be due to anything in the curriculum or programme of
studies. Indeed, to any one accustomed to the best models of a
university curriculum as it flourishes in the United States and
Canada, the programme of studies is frankly quite laughable. There
is less Applied Science in the place than would be found with us
in a theological college. Hardly a single professor at Oxford would
recognise a dynamo if he met it in broad daylight. The Oxford