men as Utterson in "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," as the squire in "Treasure Island." In one story only does he subordinate character to plot, and that story is "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." True, Mr. Utterson is an interesting study, but he is not the story. The story is a study of moral condition rather than of men, and is therefore more of a generalization. Here Stevenson has given free rein to his imagination, and the result is a tale weird and strange. The dual nature of man is depicted, but in such forms that we do not discover for some time that we are reading an allegory. In all his other stories character is paramount.

This author has both pathos and humor at his command. He arouses our pity for the miserable condition of David and Alan Breck, in “Kidnapped," where they flee from their pursuers, half dead with hunger, want and weariness. But the truest pathos that he exhibits is in Ollala. In this short sketch Stevenson has done what he has signally failed to do in his longer works, to create a true woman. In Ollala's love for the stranger thrown at her door, her tender care of him in his illness, and her final surrender of him when she feels that her heart is forever bound to him, Stevenson shows his power of touching the heart.

His humor is more difficult to place. Where we might expect it, where in many places but a stroke would make the situation laughably ridiculous, that stroke is wanting! and instead we find that our author has taken an unexpected turn. But his humor crops out here and there, not brilliant and forcible as that of Holmes or Mark Twain; rather quiet and unobtrusive; like heat lightning, which illumines without dazzling. It is present in a quaint way in those books where he describes himself as the disreputable looking traveler, "The Arethusa." He laughs at himself and the reader laughs with him. This element of personality is present in all his books. His style is to a great extent subjective.

Stevenson passes over trivial events lightly, too lightly in some cases. He is like the collector of specimens, who passes a common object to obtain a rare one. He pays no attention to the ordinary; his subjects are always different from what we expect. Even where he treats of still life as

in "Will of the Mill," it is still life of an extraordinary nature. He throws over the tale a mist of quiet and even of distance that makes it strange, almost unearthly. This weirdness and power of arousing horror is one of his strongest points. It thrills us with a sense of personal danger in 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde;" and where can we find more horror than in the fantastic lunacy of the "Suicide Club."

66

Stevenson exhibits a love of personal physical courage, which is everywhere evident. He fairly gloats over it in Alan Breck, he lingers on it in Dick Skelton, he makes it a prominent characteristic in Prince Florizel, he makes us feel it in the villain, Silver, whom, in spite of his villainy, we can not but admire. All this arises from himself; it is his own personality incorporated into his books.

If we could place Defoe and Stevenson, as revealed in their novels, side by side we would find few points of resemblance, many of difference. The prominent resemblance is in the lack of female character; the differences are legion. A few will suffice. Defoe chose ordinary subjects and treated them in an ordinary manner. Stevenson chose unusual themes and treated of them in an unusual way. The former wrote of events, the latter of character or of moral condition.

The one is accurate rather than interesting; the other fascinating rather than accurate. The one lacks the power of arousing emotion; the other is master of every passion. The one tells us of scenes and men, the other shows them to us. The books of the one are action looked upon; of the other action participated in. Defoe draws us maps, Stevenson paints pictures for us. The former cool, calculating, logical; the latter passionate, enthusiastic, imaginative. The one writes historical fiction; the other imaginative fiction. The one is impersonal; the other leaves the marks of his individuality on every page of his works. Defoe's books are like slow streams. We may easily follow their course, keeping pace with the current of thought as we move beside them. Stevenson's resemble broad, rapid brooks. To keep pace with them the reader must trust himself to the current or be left behind in the rapid flow, We read Defoe's books

from the outside; in reading Stevenson's we must be with them, in them, of them.

If the standard of fiction be to move men out of themselves we must conclude that Defoe did not achieve the success that Stevenson enjoys. But it may be said for the older writer that he had not the public to write to that the modern novelist has. He wrote what pleased the public of that time. Stevenson, it may be, could not be appreciated except under the peculiar conditions of the present age. It may be that Defoe's very simplicity of style, his historical sequence of events, his logical, calm, narration, his utter impersonality, are the very qualities which have made his fame lasting. It may be when this age is past, Stevenson's works, which are so distinctively a product of this age, will sink into oblivion. Yet it seems that two, at least, should survive, "Kidnapped" and "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde;" the former as a most acute and authentic character sketch; the latter as a wonder of literary and imaginative ingenuity, perhaps as an allegory. Defoe by his truth-similating simplicity has made for himself a place in English literature. Can Stevenson by ingenuity do the same? Will the year two thousand see Stevenson's books read as the year nineteen hundred will see Defoe's? The answer is not difficult. He that expresses the literary spirit of a great age will be held in memory until that age itself is forgotten and has passed out of history. GEORGE H. HARKNESS, '91.

Editors' Table.

As to what a college education should be, there are two opinions: the one obtained till within the past few years; the other, to which the influence of universities has largely contributed, is wrongfully usurping control in our colleges to-day. The older opinion holds that it is the primary object of a college education to discipline the mind; the modern opinion holds that the primary object is a generai liberal education. This latter opinion, in its eager grasp after a superficial knowledge of many subjects, gradually loses sight of the training of the intellect.

Till within a few years Hamilton has lived and prospered under a disciplinary system. It was her avowed purpose to train the minds of her students by a rigid course of prescribed work. Her primary object was discipline; her secondary and incidental object was a liberal education. Possessed of a disciplined mind and a liberal knowledge of the thought of the world, her graduate was competent to judge for what sphere he was peculiarly adapted, and, having once decided, was fitted to pursue his chosen course with the tenacity of a trained intellect, and the comprehension of a broad culture. This rigid holding to a disciplinary course has made for Hamilton the high position which she holds among the colleges as the Alma Mater of men illustrious in the political, professional, religious and literary walks of life.

How great has been the change within the past few years! That rigid course, the development of years, which has become the model for the curricula of so many institutions of learning, is growing to lack harmony and concentration. As put into effect, it is fast losing its disciplinary power, the real purpose of its existence. A member of the present faculty recently made the remark that “the object of a college education is to give a man a little knowledge of every thing." We most emphatically disagree with this opinion, though we must admit that the tendency of education at Hamilton College to-day bears out the professor in his opinion. The primary purpose of a college education is discipline; general knowledge comes in incidentally. To-day the converse is becoming true; general knowledge is made the object and discipline the incident. The result is that discipline is gradually lost sight of in the mad rush for a smattering knowledge of many subjects.

We do not criticise the elective system, but we do criticise the manner in which the present curriculum is carried out. Practically there is no limit put upon a professor in the work of his special department. What is the result? We have the spectacle of each member of the faculty vieing with the others in getting the most possible work out of the students in his classes. And the unfortunate feature is that each seems to be utterly oblivious of the strain which is brought upon the students by the others. The result is that the students in Hamilton College to-day are overworked. Nor is this the worst of it; this tendency to increase work is steadily growing, so that, as every class graduates, its members are heard to say, "We are glad we leave college when we do. A much greater

increase in the amount of work will be unbearable." This has been the remark of students before us, and if the present tendency continues will be the remark of every student in college to-day, when he graduates This is wrong, shamefully wrong, and we protest against it. This is no passing complaint. The Lrr. believes that hard, energetic work should be required from every student in college. But when from the most able and industrious students complaints reach our ears, we believe it is time to cry out against this wrong. We come here for discipline, not for drudgery. Do the faculty for one moment imagine that students come to college for pastime? As a body, students are desirous of work, and hard work, too; but they wish that this work be limited to a reasonable amount, and that instruction be made more disciplinary.

To overwork as a cause may be attributed many of the evils which exist in our college life. First and foremost is the use of translations in the languages. This evil never reached its present height till within a few years. Students coming to college with the avowed intention of not using translations find it impossible to do competitive work in their classes without them; so that to-day it is almost an impossibility to find a man who does not openly use and favor the use of "ponies" under the present system. Twenty years ago the student who used a pony was the exception, and upon its use there was a stigma. Whence this change? Does the fault lie with the faculty or with the students? The standard of morality is higher than it was in those days, and we would not readily admit that the average ability of the college student is less. Let the faculty answer this question, and we believe that they will be forced to admit that theirs is the blame. Overwork is the true cause. Directly traceable to this oppression are the use of cribs" in examinations, and the practice of "skinning ahead" in the class-room. Practices which are acknowledged as wrong become necessary for good standing in a class, and are almost justified by the pressure of overwork which is brought to bear upon the students. The above evils exist; it is the duty of the faculty to inquire into their causes and provide a remedy.

Give us shorter lessons with a more critical examination into their contents; give us a disciplinary education, rather than a loose mass of scattered knowledge; and, members of the faculty, you will do away with many evils which exist in college to-day, will inestimably enhance the value of your training to students who come to you for education, and, by increasing the efficiency of her graduates, will confer permanent renown upon "Old Hamilton," whose curriculum is feeling far too much the disintegrating influence of the universities.

THE new excuse system has now been in operation a term and its results are most satisfactory to all concerned. Students and professors unite in pronouncing it a success. That mass of excuses, which formerly taxed the student's inventive genius and the faculty's power of just discrimination, has been done away with. The regular student is allowed more liberty; the irregular kept more closely to time. Its purpose is attained and the LIT. is proud of having advocated it from the very first, and of having prophesied those results which we now see fulfilled.