a lively game.

"Well played, sir," he ejaculated; "well played, indeed. Score one
for you, Uncle."

"The approbation of the young is the consolation of the aged,"
murmured the professor sententiously, as if it were a quotation
from Plutarch. "But let us hear what our friend Hardman has to say
about the German language and the Germanic theory of education. It
is his turn."

"I throw you in the German language," answered Hardman, rather
tartly. "I don't profess to admire it or defend it. But nobody
can deny its utility for the things that are taught in it. You can
learn more science from half a dozen recent German books than from
a whole library of Latin and Greek. Besides, you must admit that
the Germans are great classical scholars too."

"Rather neat," commented Dick; "you touched him there, Mr. Hardman.
Now, Uncle!"

"I do not admit," said the professor firmly, "that the Germans are
great classical scholars. They are great students, that is all.
The difference is immense. Far be it from me to deny the value of
the patient and laborious researches of the Germans in the grammar
and syntax of the ancient languages and in archaeology. They are
painstaking to a painful degree. They gather facts as bees gather
pollen, indefatigably. But when it comes to making honey they go
dry. They cannot interpret, they can only instruct. They do not
comprehend, they only classify. Name me one recent German book of