opinion and action. It is to be observed, however, that even under the most democratic forms of government, when the community collectively, or a majority of it, elects its magistrates, the individual members become bound to obey, under such laws as may be in force.

Farther, the student is not a finished character, or a person in a fixed or stationary condition; he is in a state of pupilage, and of active mental and moral growth and development, not having yet reached, though tending toward, an ultimate position of independence. It follows from this that the individual growth of the student is an important factor in the case-perhaps the important factor-and that the influence exerted on him is not like that of chiselling a block of marble or hammering a bar of iron, but like that of regulating the growth of a young tree or of determining the course of a running stream. The educator is thus not a mere workman, but a trainer of an organism vastly complicated in structure and relations, and in a constant state of growth and development and of accommodation to its environment. This consideration unquestionably greatly complicates the question of control, since very slight influences acting on vital tissues may produce the most far-reaching effects; and no control should be of such a nature as to interfere with due vitality and symmetrical development.

Under these limitations, then, it may be assumed that some control or guidance must be exercised by the instructor, and that it may differ in kind as well as in degree, and may refer to individual moral character and conduct, to social relations, to educational work, and, in connection with this, to the relations of students with one another and with their teachers as part of an educational community, in which, as in all communities, some sacrifice of individual liberty must be made in the interest of the great ends to be secured by the association. In the case in question these ends are of the highest order, and it can scarcely be assumed that the individual student is in a position to judge independently as to these ends and the means of their attainment, or that even the collective wisdom of the students will be adequate to this, previous to any experience on their part of the course they are to follow. These considerations may be summed up under the short statement that any one travelling on a road unknown to him by

experience will be the better for the guidance of some one who has gone the same way previously.

Keeping these general statements in view, it will simplify matters to ask the question with reference to institutions purely educational and not under ecclesiastical control, and with reference to institutions for general education rather than that which is special or professional. If I confine myself to my own experience, the further limitation will be imposed that McGill does not provide residences for its students, and it is well known that the inmates of college boarding-houses have a somewhat special relation to the university, as distinguished from those who lodge in private houses and simply attend lectures.

With these limitations I may further explain that in McGill University each faculty exercises jurisdiction over its own students, the executive officer beiug the dean of the faculty. The principal intervenes only when desired to give advice or assistance, or when any case arises affecting students of different faculties; and the power of expelling students resides only in the corporation-a body including the governors, the principal, and all the deans of the faculties, with elective representatives of the faculties, of the affiliated colleges, and of the graduates.

Under this system it is understood that each professor is supreme in his own class-room, but his power of discipline is limited to a temporary suspension from lectures, which must be at once reported to the dean. If necessary, the dean may lay the case before the faculty, which, after hearing, may reprimand, report to parents or guardians, impose fines, suspend from classes, or, in extreme cases, report to the corporation for expulsion. No case involving this last penalty has, however, yet occurred, and the effort in all cases is to settle every case of discipline by personal influence and with as little reference to laws and penalties as possible.

With this machinery a simple code of rules is sufficient. It provides for orderly and moral conduct in the buildings and in going and coming, and for the safety of the property of the university, and prohibits all action likely to obstruct the work of the college or to interfere with the progress of other students. In the case of college societies it is required merely that their objects shall be consistent with those of the university, and that their laws and officers shall be communicated to and approved by the faculty in whose rooms they meet.

Above and beyond all such machinery and rules lies the obligation on principal, deans, and professors to watch the beginnings of evil and to counteract by wise and kindly advice anything that may lead to disorder. On the one hand, the effort should be to allow all that liberty which tends to make students self-reliant and fit for the battle of life, and, on the other, to prevent the formation of any habits of life inimical to the interests of their fellow-students or injurious to themselves.

I believe this constant kindly watchfulness, without anything of the nature of espionage, and observing the distinction between trifles that, however annoying for the moment, lead to nothing and those breaches of discipline that may have important consequences, constitutes the best safeguard for order, while the cultivation of interest and enthusiasm for college work at once secures progress and peace. In short, the control of young men or young women is to be exercised rather in the way of inducing them to like their work and duty than by any influence of the nature of coercion or restraint. In this way only can they be trained to control themselves and, when their turn comes, to control others. They who would rule must themselves learn willing obedience. Of course, there is place here for all the elevating influence of spiritual religion, and there is scope for that most important power which arises from the example of punctuality, self-denial, and honest work on the part of professors.

In connection with this it may be proper to remark that the most serious difficulties met with by college administrators often arise not directly from the students, but from the action of instructors and other officers. When these are careless, incompetent, irritable, or exacting, difficulties are certain to occur, and are not lessened by the necessity to sustain, at least for the time, legitimate authority, in the face of objections which may be in many respects reasonable.

Equally serious difficulties may occur from the imprudence or mischievous disposition of persons to whom students naturally look up, when such persons criticise before them the conduct of instructors or administrators, or cultivate discontent with the regulations which may be in force. Agitations excited in this way are very detrimental to the individual student and to college work in general, while they impose an additional burden of vigilance and self-denial on officers, perhaps already overworked, in

the effort, while meeting all reasonable demands, to avert revolutions which might have disastrous effects in the little world of college life.

Lastly, it should be taken for granted that very few students are radically evil-disposed, and that even these are amenable to higher influences, though there are, no doubt, cases in which it is better that a few corruptors of good should be sacrificed for the benefit of the majority. The instructor or administrator must bear in mind that he also serves a Master, and is in some sense the servant of all, and that "the Lord's servant must not strive, but be gentle toward all, apt to teach, forbearing, in meekness correcting those that oppose themselves." If by God's grace he can serve in this manner, the question of control is not likely to arise in any very acute form.

J. WILLIAM DAWSON,

Principal and Vice-Chancellor of McGill University.

THE control exercised over students may be of three kindsover their choice of studies, over their attendance and preparation at college exercises, or over their general conduct. The conditions of universities, so-called, are so different that it will be better to give simply our general experience in the academic department of the University of California, and my deductions from that.

The entire university numbers 616 students, of whom 253 are in the professional schools located in San Francisco. The undergraduate department, of which I propose to speak particularly, is located at Berkeley, ten miles from San Francisco and five miles from Oakland, a city of 60,000 people. It numbers on its rolls 363 students (291 men and 72 women), the average age of entrance for all students being about nineteen years, the minimum being sixteen years. We have no dormitories, and after five o'clock in the afternoon our students are scattered to their homes and the campus is deserted, nearly one-half living in Oakland and San Francisco.

It is evident at once that some of these particulars simplify very much the problem of controlling the general conduct of the students. The presence of 20 per cent. of women and the scattering of the students after dark lessen very much the diffi

culty of preserving order. Then the absence of any display of wealth among our students tends to general moderation and sobriety. Add to this systematic gymnasium training and an ample opportunity for field exercises, both of which form excellent safety-valves for superfluous animal spirits, and it will be seen why, without much control of general conduct, our students for the most part preserve excellent order.

Our studies are leading to a definite Of these eight courses The scientific courses

In the matter of the choice of studies, our practice differs somewhat from most of the older colleges. We neither bind the student to the old-fashioned iron-clad curriculum, nor do we give him absolute freedom of choice in all respects. arranged in eight grooves or courses, each form of education, each complete in itself. five are scientific and three are literary. are in agriculture, mechanics, civil-engineering, mining, and chemistry. The literary courses are, first, in Greek and Latin; second, in Latin and English; third, in English literature and modern history and languages.

There are electives in all the courses, more in the later college years than in the earlier ones. There is a difference in the proportion of prescribed studies in the different courses also, the scientific courses having less election. Of course, where the studies lead to a definite end, like agriculture or mining, the choice of studies must be more limited. In point of difficulty the courses are intended to be as nearly equivalent to one another as possible, though, after all, some are much harder than others. Students desiring to pursue special courses may do so, if of mature years, by vote of the faculty. But in all cases, regular or special, the student must present a card showing a consistent and profitable course of study ranging through the years he expects to remain at the university, and this card must be approved by the faculty.

This dividing the studies into grooves, and requiring the student to select his groove, have been approved by experience, and the large body of students choose the regular courses. The advantage lies in this: The student at sixteen is unable to lay out his course of study, and even those of more mature years would be confused by the multiplicity of the studies and the conflict of the hours of recitation. But under our system he is only called on to choose his general pursuit, and then he finds the