results." The pace set is necessarily that of the slowest, and thus
results in what I have heard Mr. Edward Beatty describe as the
"convoy system of education."

In my own opinion, reached after fifty-two years of profound
reflection, this system contains in itself the seeds of destruction.
It puts a premium on dulness and a penalty on genius. It circumscribes
that latitude of mind which is the real spirit of learning. If we
persist in it we shall presently find that true learning will fly
away from our universities and will take rest wherever some individual
and enquiring mind can mark out its path for itself.

Now the principal reason why I am led to admire Oxford is that the
place is little touched as yet by the measuring of "results," and by
this passion for visible and provable "efficiency." The whole system
at Oxford is such as to put a premium on genius and to let mediocrity
and dulness go their way. On the dull student Oxford, after a proper
lapse of time, confers a degree which means nothing more than that he
lived and breathed at Oxford and kept out of jail. This for many
students is as much as society can expect. But for the gifted
students Oxford offers great opportunities. There is no question of
his hanging back till the last sheep has jumped over the fence. He
need wait for no one. He may move forward as fast as he likes,
following the bent of his genius. If he has in him any ability beyond
that of the common herd, his tutor, interested in his studies, will
smoke at him until he kindles him into a flame. For the tutor's soul
is not harassed by herding dull students, with dismissal hanging by a
thread over his head in the class room. The American professor has no
time to be interested in a clever student. He has time to be
interested in his "deportment," his letter-writing, his executive