THE REMEDY.

THE subject of pecuniary aid to students, discussed by the President in his late report, is not entirely disconnected with other affairs in the College which it was not the business of the report to dwell upon. The fact that the present system of pecuniary assistance is not a success reminds me of other things about which the same thing might be said. The trouble, as I see it, is that the underlying principle is wrong. The aid is given as a means, and is not made an end; it is bestowed as a crust is flung to a beggar, and implies an obligation for the favor received. The bestowal of money to help men along will undoubtedly always imply a certain amount of obligation, but that obligation should be only a tacit one.

Pecuniary aid at English universities is made a reward for special distinction. It is a goal which can be reached only by men of brains, but which lies in the reach of all men of brains, no matter what their circumstances may be. What is done for a man here? He may take even a summa cum laude, and receive no more reward from the University than the little distinction conferred by those three words. There is no fault to be found that this is so, but the cause of failure must be understood before the remedy for it can be applied.

The same trouble comes into many of our affairs. There is no definite object for which a man can work. Time was when it was something to row well. A place on the crew was a thing to excite the ambition of any man. Now, there is no object sufficient to bring out the best material for the boat. How, in fact, can a man distinguish himself here, - make a name that every one will acknowledge was worth making? He may lead his class, and no one but his few rivals will care at all. He may be stroke of the crew, and men will pity him because he has taken so much trouble. He may write for the papers, but he is by no means sure that any one will read his articles.

This is the old worn-out chord which twanged last year to the tune of "Harvard Indifference," but the fact is, that indifference is the one thing here which "pays." A premium is put on loafing, for the loafers have the easiest time and no one thinks the less of them. Exertion is not only not encouraged, but it is scorned. In England they say that to be anything at the university, a man must do well one of the three R's, - Read, Ride, or Row. There, the man who reads may become the Senior Wrangler, or take a First Class in classics, and he will be known and respected. He may take a Fellowship, and have for a few years an independent income, unshackled by obligations and conditions.

He may row, and if he becomes stroke of the crew, other men, no matter what their taste may be, will respect and admire him, as men on our crews have in times past been respected and admired. No one will call him a fool for his pains, and hint they could have done as well by making fools of themselves in the same way. If he rides, he will have admiration of another kind perhaps, but he will be acknowledged, all the same, to have done something.

When we come around to something like this state of affairs, when the man who reads and the man who rows has each a goal before him worth reaching, when there is something substantial to be made from the use of brains or of muscle in college, then will be the time when indifference will vanish. With us, contest for rank and scholarships is not a contest of brains. He takes the highest rank who happens by any means to amass the highest number of marks among the men who try for high marks. The scholarships support fools who have simply a moderate capacity for work and very empty pockets. Nothing more is necessary to secure such honors as are held out, and yet we wonder at the indifference of those who cannot be made to see that they are worth having. Virtue may be its own reward, but it is nevertheless a very poor reward. Men need something more inspiriting.