PROFESSOR SOPHOCLES.

In an interesting article that has recently been published, the writer takes occasion to speak of a few of professor Sophocles' peculiarities in the following words: Professor Sophocles was a scholar of extraordinary attainments. His knowledge of the whole length and breadth of the Greek literature, from Hemer to the present day, could hardly be surpassed, and he had much rare and profound erudition on points on which most Western scholars are ignorant. But he was, on the other hand, little acquainted with modern German scholarship; and the works of the great masters of classic philology in Germany, except so far as they were written in Latin or translated into English, were almost unknown to him, as he never learned German so as to read it with any facility. But much which others learned with toil seemed to come to him by intuition, and many things in his books which might appear to be borrowed from others are really original with him. He was as eccentric in his teaching as in everything else that he did. He had much of the Socratic way of asking questions to show a pupil his ignorance, and then leaving him to help himself as best he could. He often asked a question, especially if a visitor was in his classroom, merely to open the way for a joke or a sarcasm. He once passed a question about a peculiar Greek accent entirely round a class, eliciting Various crude guesses, and then dryly remarked: "It is a misprint." Many will remember his question as to what was done with the persons who were killed at Thermopylae. This called out various answers, to Which he replied by a shake of his head; but when one hopeless freshman replied that he did not know, he answered: "That is right; nobody knows." These anecdotes, with a thousand others, both historical and mythical, are very characteristic of his style of teaching, which did not always follow strictly scientific methods.

He had a great hatred of impostors of every kind, and it was not very safe for any such to approach him. A man recently called on him with some manuscripts, professing to be autographs of some of the early Fathers of the church. He exposed the pretensions of several without losing his composure; but when at last the original manuscript of the Athanasian Creed, in the writing of St. Athanasius (!), was produced, he called his visitor's attention to a large club in the corner of the room, and pointed significantly towards the door, by which the terrified man made his escape with some precipitation. We may venture to mention here a piece of history for the benefit of future historians of Harvard College. In the spring of 1858, it was proposed to abolish the barbarous custom of having morning prayers at six o'clock in the spring and summer. Mr. Sophocles had already given his vote for the change, but before the result could be announced by the president, the not infrequent excitement of a small bonfire on the steps of University Hall interrupted the proceedings of the faculty. After the bonfire he changed his vote, and six o'clock prayers were kept another year by a majority of one. On hearing the result he intimated that early rising would keep people out of mischief at night, and he certainly felt that six o'clock prayers would be unpleasant to the makers of the bonfire. Let us hope that they were.

A London paper gives the following curious statement concerning the method of examination employed in the "Flowery Kingdom": It is a curious fact that of all Chinese cities, Canton, though it is within eight hours of Hong Kong, and has, of all the places in the empire, the longest known Europeans, has undergone less change than any other great centre of population in China. It remains precisely as it was hundreds of years ago, and when once the wall is passed the traveler might for all he can see, be at least a thousand miles from any Western influence. And there is this to be remarked in passing, that though since the eighth century they have been acquainted with foreigners, they like them no better than they did then, and are as ready to be hostile and aggressive to them as they ever were.

The reasons for this may be various, but one of them undoubtedly is that Canton is a great seat of learning, and the literati of China have always been the most determined opponents of foreigners. It is at Canton, indeed, where the greatest examining University of China is to be found. A Chinese lad in the south of the empire, determining to be distinguished, has only to go to Canton to gain a reward, if he deserves it. Entering a great hall called the Hoktoi, where tables are provided for more than 3,000 candidates, he can sit down and take his chance for the first degree; and supposing that he passes, is then qualified for a greater examination. This takes places in a huge building, or rather series of buildings, capable of accommodation upward of 10,000 students. On the day appointed, the youths who desire to pass enter a great gate and find themselves in a vast yard wherein are 13,000 small cells. These run in rows, and are numbered; they are each about nine feet high, five and a half feet long, and three feet eight inches wide. Each candidate takes a call, and at daylight receives a paper with which he must deal without leaving the place. Three thousand policemen and servants are near at hand to see that he doesn't play any tricks, and his head would probably be the penalty if he attempted to do so. Next morning he hands in his paper and departs for a day's rest, returning twenty-four hours afterward for more work, and so on for three successive trials. At the close of the examination the papers, which are all numbered, are carefully gone through and the best one hundred and thirty are selected, the writers being at once nominated for distinguished civil (?) vice. They must, however, go up to Pekin later on for further examination with a view to very high promotion.

Now, it is a fact that with this plan of separate cells no favoritism is possible. The poorest may win, and I knew of a case in which the son of a Chinese clerk in a European's office at Canton came out second in the trial and was at once forwarded to the capital, there to become a mandarin of distinction. It should be fair; for the candidates enter at "The Gate of Perfect Equity," hand in their essays at "The Hall of Perfect Rectitude," see them sealed up in "The Hall of Restraint," and know that they are examined in "The Hall of Auspicious Stars."