was a necessity of a necessity. Coeducation arose from poverty. The people were determined that their daughters should have as good an education as their sons. Their purses did not allow their founding colleges for each; they therefore founded colleges for both. In the State university coeducation is based on a different principle. The university is a part of the system of public education. Therefore to exclude one sex would be an injustice as grave as to exclude one sex from the grammar-school. The colleges for both men and women represent, with certain conspicuous exceptions, the type. In the whole country four types of woman's education as related to man's are now made clear separate education, coeducation, co-ordinate education, and the annex. In the East separate education is the rule; in the West, coeducation. The annex method has its most conspicuous illustration at Cambridge. The system which I denominate co-ordinate consists in a college for men and a college for women as a part of a university, each having its own faculty and buildings, yet the members of the two faculties of the same departments interchanging work, the students separate in respect to recitations, yet being in the same grades and studies. This system has its first eminent example in the Western Reserve University of Cleveland, and it seems to unite the advantages of coeducation and of separate education without the disadvantages of either. Throughout the West the method of coeducation is probably more popular with the people as educators than as parents. The colleges for women in Massachusetts and New York receive a large share of their students from the West. The scholarship of the girls brought into competition with boys is, of course, as good as that of the boys. It is certainly true that girls put more conscience into their work. If students in coeducational institutions are prone to become too deeply interested in each other and girls in college are no less charming to boys than girls out of college they are usually sent away. The college authorities use great wisdom in adjusting delicate relations. It would be rash to say that the co-educational type is permanent. In the opinion of a few it is a transient form arising from poverty, and will pass away with the condition

which gave it birth. In the opinion of others it represents the highest and best type.

The right idea of a college education prevails. This idea is that education consists less in knowledge than in knowing; less in thought than in the right method of thinking; less in quantity than in quality; less in memory than in reasoning. It is commonly believed that the mind should be made, to use the figure of a wheat-growing people, less an elevator for storing intellectual wheat than a mill for grinding intellectual products. In respect to the right conception of education, the West, like the East, has reached the proper point of view. There was a time, twenty years ago, when certain colleges of the East were supposed to represent the principle that education consists in knowledge. Other colleges were supposed to represent the principle that education consists in training, discipline. The latter conception has come to prevail. Seldom is dissent heard. All colleges, East and West, North and South, now unite in the general sentiment and principle.

In the establishment of most of these colleges graduates of the colleges of New York, Pennsylvania, and the New England States had control. The influence of the men who came from New Haven and from Cambridge excelled the influence of men from other colleges, although not a few from other colleges had much influence. The Yale graduates, however, had more and most power. Indeed, to-day, as in the past, one finds a larger number of Yale than of Harvard men throughout the West. One reason at least is to my thought clear. It lies in the greater missionary or evangelizing spirit which characterized Yale in the earlier or middle decades of the present century. At that time Harvard was supposed to be under the control of those who were members of the Unitarian Church. This Church, despite its high aims and the choice culture of its adherents, was not moved by missionary motives and methods. But Yale, largely controlled by a Church long eminent in missionary propagandism, sent its ministers as missionaries to Ohio, Illinois, and other territory. These are the men who founded Illinois College and other colleges as a part of their plan of evangelizing the new commonwealths. It is characteristic of the

college man to be true to his college mother as to the mother who bore him. Therefore the graduates of Yale controlled; therefore the Yale spirit was and is more powerful in the West than the Harvard spirit; therefore, also, the graduates of Yale would send students desiring to go East for an education to Yale; and therefore, also, one to-day finds in the principal cities the clubs of Yale men larger than the clubs of Harvard. Of course the old unorthodox attitude of Harvard has long passed away, but the reputation has not yet passed away. The older college is rapidly making friends in the newer parts of the New World. It is securing an increasing number of students. The free spirit of Harvard appeals to the temper of the West.

The movement is still strong among the people of the West to send their children to the colleges of the East. The idea is common that the Eastern college has something which the Western college has not. It is difficult to define this something. Indeed, it would be difficult for most fathers and mothers of the West to state with precision what reasons influence them. I am inclined to think that the reasons are comprehended in a general reason, a reason so general that it is hard for words to catch and hold it. But the reason lies, I think, in the fact that the East has age. Its history is longer and richer than the history of the West. Its social adjustments are regarded as more fixed. Its academic past is richer. The personality of its colleges is larger and stronger. And it is not to be denied that this reason has value. The college whose life goes back a thousand years, more or less, as Oxford's, or two hundred and fifty years, as Harvard's, may and should exert a different influence over a student from that exerted by a college founded in 1882. And in what does this influence consist? It consists, in part at least, in at once minimizing and enlarging the personality of the student. No boy can enroll himself as one among thousands of students who have preceded him without coming to feel how exceedingly small he himself is. This feeling is the same feeling which one has in Rome or in Athens, reflecting on the uselessness of human endeavor in general, and of his own endeavor in particular. Such a feeling, though bad enough for the ordinary man, is very good indeed for

the ambitious boy to have. The feeling tends to convert his airy, cloudy sentiments, if he be a boy at all vigorous, into the power of hard, noble work. But if this entrance into the historic life of an old college minimizes personality, it also enlarges it. The boy comes to feel that all this long and rich life is a part of his life, and he a part of it. He is a companion of the worthies who have wrought well. He sees a great cloud of witnesses, and is conscious that they see him. Such sentiments have worth. I suppose that many a student at Yale and Harvard would say that these sentiments were simply nonsense in their actual power over a student. But whether so or not, they are, I apprehend, the chief reasons which move parents to send their children to the Eastern colleges. For the teaching in the colleges of the West is excellent, the courses of study are broad, the spirit of work among the students is very hearty, the undergraduate life is democratic, and the downright simple discipline of intellect exceedingly vigorous.

For the worth of a college, whether Eastern or Western, of the Old World or the New, consists not in its history or in its material equipment, but in the men who compose its teaching force. Cardinal Newman was right in saying that the university could be put into shanties or tents, but it should have great teachers. The teachers in the colleges of the West do, as a whole, represent large and noble personalities. As a rule, great scholars go with great libraries and laboratories, or rather great libraries and laboratories go with great scholars; and the great libraries and great laboratories have been in the East. Yet not a few of the great scholars and thinkers and administrators have done at least a part of their work through the Western college. In one college in Ohio within the space of a dozen years there were members of the faculty Laurens P. Hickok, afterwards for many years acting as president of Union College; Elias Loomis, the mathematician; Clement Long, the metaphysician; Nathan Perkins Seymour, the eminent Greek scholar and teacher; Elijah P. Barrows, the Hebraist; Henry N. Day, the philosopher: Samuel St. John, the chemist; Samuel C. Bartlett, afterwards president of Dartmouth; and Charles A. Young, the astronomer. Such a list is unique. I do not know of so magnificent a man in any

Western college as Williams College had for half a century in Mark Hopkins; but as for that, no other American college has had such a man. As one reflects upon the presidents and professors of Western institutions he is impressed with certain characteristics. They are men like the West itself, aggressive, versatile, hopeful, and thoroughly human. They do not write so many books as do their associates of Eastern colleges, but they are more in touch with life itself. Possibly the ideal president and the ideal teacher of the college is embodied in one who should combine aggressiveness with wisdom, versatility with thoroughness, large hopefulness with great power of endurance, and a love for learning with a love for men.

Yet, of course, the effect of the training of a college is composed in part of the work of the students as well as the worth of the teacher. But the average amount of work done by the average college man is larger, I think, in the Western than in the Eastern college. Fewer students are sent, more come, to college. The Western student has less money, and four years of study means larger financial sacrifice. The motives leading him to a mercantile life are stronger, and therefore, having resisted them and entered college, he is the less inclined to make college days play days. In the West fewer men go to college by reason of family prestige. The effect of athletics is, on the whole, good, both East and West, though in every class certain men wreck the frail bark of education on the rocks of baseball and football. But the temptations to over-indulgence in sports are less strong in the prairie than in the sea-shore college. Though, on the whole, the Western student works harder than the Eastern, yet, at the peril of writing like a doctrinaire, I venture to say both could devote a few more hours per week to philosophy and physics without incurring very serious risks to physical health.

I fear this brief paper may give to the reader the impression that it is a part of that buncombe which is supposed to characterize the talk and writing of folk living in the West, even if their residence be brief as is mine. But if this be so, I wish in particular to say there are at least three things to which Western colleges and Western people should give special heed. The people of the West should exercise more careful discrimination as to

The best of

not a few Their sal

the worth of their own institutions. The West has colleges which are doing firstrate work, under first-rate conditions, by first-rate methods, and through first-rate teachers. It also has institutions which it would be a compliment to call secondrate. But many people have not come to discriminate between the worth of these institutions. To them a college is a college. But the people should know which are the best, and should support the best worthily. The people, moreover, should see to it that the professors in the colleges receive worthy salaries. Salaries, as I have said, in State universities are respectable, but the salaries in many other colleges are not respectable. motives, the Christian, holds teachers in these institutions. aries are beggarly pittances-so beggarly that the faces of those who receive them have a paleness other than scholarly. It is too bad. The University of Chicago is setting a worthy example, and although laying harder work upon the presidents and trustees of other colleges to secure larger endowments for increased salaries, every one is grateful for this example and inspiration. The people of the West also should direct their attention toward the improvement of the high-schools and the establishment of academies. Although certain high-schools of the West are as good as can be had anywhere, yet many of them are content with other than the best work, with other than the wisest methods, and with other than a full course. The course should be enlarged. If it should not be made less scientific, as it should not be, it should be made more literary, more classical. In the great State of Ohio the free public high-schools of only three cities are regularly teaching Greek. Academies and the partially endowed schools of a few other towns offer instruction in this language. But these and similar defects and deficiencies the Western people see and will remove. American life has a strong self-corrective tendency. This tendency is nowhere stronger than in the West. The tendency will touch more and more mightily the educational movement. To have the best is a characteristic of the West; and when this giant of the West rouses himself in his full strength, he will build the finest system of education in school and college as he has built the longest railroads and the largest flour mills.

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"O

I.

H, Paris," cries Sainte-Beuve, the great critic, c'est chez toi qu'il est doux de vivre, c'est chez toi que je veux mourir!" To live and to die in Paris has been the aspiration of many other great geniuses besides Sainte-Beuve. Ever since the city sprang from the mud of the Île de la Cité, natives and foreigners have been singing an incessant chorus of praise in its honor. During the past fifteen hundred years the lovers of Paris have been celebrating the glory of their mistress, whose fame has been continuously growing in splendor; for since the fourth century of our era, when Julian was proclaimed emperor by the legions in his dear town of Lutetia," Paris has been a true capital-" the pride of France and one of the noblest ornaments of the world," as Montaigne says. It was then that the Gallo-Roman city awoke to a

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VOL. LXXXV.-No. 509.-72

consciousness of power, intelligence, and material splendor of life. From that date Paris may be said to have had a life of its own, and, to judge from the testimony of contemporary witnesses, that life of Paris already possessed the peculiar charm which distinguishes it at the present day, and makes it different from the life of any other city in the worlda charm which is independent of exterior beauty and magnificence, but, as it were, inherent in the intellectual atmosphere and soul of the city.

To endeavor to reconstitute by an effort of imagination the Paris of the fourth century, or the Paris of the later days when the prudence and courage of Sainte Geneviève saved the city from the Huns and the Franks, would be vain, and it would lead us to digress far from our purpose, which is rather to speak of the life of Paris in its intense and present

reality. And yet we cannot wholly separate the past from the present. The shadow of the ancient days will from time to time inevitably rise before our eyes and veil modernity with a golden halo of magniloquent souvenir. As we walk along the Seine and stand on the Quai Henri IV., near the Pont de l'Estacade, looking south westward, beyond the wharves covered with barrels and various merchandise, the eye passes above the regular line of the quay and embraces a vast wooded landscape that sweeps up from the river to the Montagne Sainte Geneviève-a broad vista of sky and verdure crowned by the domes of the Val de Grâce, the Pantheon, and the belfry of Saint Etienne du Mont. On the fertile and smiling slope of the Montagne Sainte Geneviève were the palaces and the military establishments of the Gallo-Roman emperors. On this hill, that now bears the name of the patron saint of the city, Julian passed studious winters, surrounded by learned men, with whom it was his chief pleasure to converse. In this improvised academy of the Cæsar's court may we not trace the foreshadowing of the great academies and schools that were destined to glorify the Montagne Sainte Geneviève when it became in later years the Latin Quarter, and when the GalloRoman town of Lutetia rose in the eyes of the world to the glory of a modern Athens?

II.

In the view depicted in our engraving the artist has looked down upon Paris from one of the upper windows of the Pavillon de Flore, as it were from a hillside; and while a spring cloud was sprinkling the fresh verdure, he has noted the grand panorama of the Seine and its bridges, the turrets of the Conciergerie, the dome of the Tribunal of Commerce, the spire of the Sainte Chapelle, the towers of Notre Dame, the Palace of the Institute, the Mint and its smoking chimney; in the distance the Montagne Sainte Geneviève with the dome of the Pantheon suspended as it were in the air; and in the foreground the Pont du Carrousel, the river with its trains of barges, and the Port of Saint Nicolas du Louvre nestling beneath the trees, with the London steamer moored to the quay-side.

No one who has visited Paris can for get the incomparable group of palaces which the eye embraces from this Pont

art.

du Carrousel, with the grand silhouette of Notre Dame in the centre, and, to the left, the roofs and belfry of the Hôtel de Ville, the old Gothic tower of Saint Jacques, the monumental regularity of the quays, shaded with fine trees, and the great palace of the Louvre, whose interminable façades and admirable galleries resume the history of the glory and genius of France from the time of Philip Augustus, and the history of French architecture since the days of Francis I. In the year 1529, Pierre Lescot, the architect, and Jean Goujon, the sculptor, began the actual palace, conceiving and executing it with an abundance of imagination, a sureness of taste, a delicate perfection of symmetry, and a richness and harmony of ornament that make it a most complete expression of the style of the French Renaissance. To the Louvre of Pierre Lescot innumerable additions have been made at various epochs and in various styles. Henri IV. built the Pavillon de Flore, but it was reserved for Carpeaux, in our own days, to consummate its decoration with a high relief group that is one of the purest masterpieces of modern Cathérine de Medicis built the wing where antique sculpture is now placed. Louis XIII. and his architect finished the palace around the great court-yard of the Louvre. Louis XIV. built the Galerie d'Apollon. Marie de Medicis and Anne of Austria in turn contributed to the sumptuous decoration of their dwelling. To Louis XIV. and to Claude Perrault, a doctor by profession but an engineer by taste, the Louvre is indebted for its grand colonnade, one of the finest monuments of Paris. Napoleon I. added largely to the splendor of the Louvre, and Napoleon III. finally completed the work by joining the palace of the Louvre to that of the Tuileries on the side both of the river and of the Rue de Rivoli, thus carrying to perfect fulfilment the symmetrical plan of this incomparable series of monuments. The Palace of the Tuileries, alas, has disappeared, but the aspect of the Louvre only gains in immensity and grandeur by the clearing of the ground between the two extreme pavilions, which has left an uninterrupted sweep of broad promenade planted with gardens and avenues of trees from the Place du Carrousel and the Jardin des Tuileries up the Champs Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe.

From the noble lines of the Louvre