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rather helpless advisers that until he could reach that magic score of fifteen he could not secure admission by the Old Plan to any college of the first rank.

Now this Old Plan is the same old plan upon which abuse has so often been heaped. It is still helpful to the student who has been forced to piece together his secondary education in a haphazard way. For more fortunate students a new and better plan has been in existence for seventeen years, but it is interesting to observe the reaction of the great majority of parents and teachers to the demand thus made upon them for a choice between two methods of procedure. They have railed for years at the unreasonableness of the old method and longed for a new and better one, but when the Old Plan and the New Plan present them selves side by side, some kind of instinct for the sanctity of tradition is awakened. They fear hidden risks in the new, and proclaim their intention of sticking to the true and tried. And so they go on appraising a secondary education in terms of little figures enclosed in brackets and eagerly counting up gains. It matters not whether a subject once 'credited' is forgotten or remembered. What matters is that the sum of the numbers shall be fifteen.

The New Plan of Admission was first made available by Harvard in 1911 and soon thereafter adopted by Yale and Princeton. It is now recognized by thirty-seven colleges and universities of the United States, though not on exactly the same terms by all of them. In 1927, 2876 candidates, out of 22,384 reported by the College Entrance Examination Board, were New Plan candidates.

To many persons the name 'New Plan' seems to imply merely the substitution of the so-called comprehensive papers for the papers of the older and

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more subdivided type, but, while the employment of these papers is one characteristic of the New Plan, it is by no means its essential feature. The New Plan is not merely a plan of examination, but, as its full title indicates, it is a plan of admission to college, and it involves the investigation by the college of the candidate's school record for four years, the usual span of the high-school course. In order that a candidate may be enrolled for the New Plan, the school from which he is about to graduate must submit to the college a detailed report of the studies pursued and the standing attained in each of these four years, together with such evidence as can be assembled of the candidate's special tastes and aptitudes as manifested outside the narrow limits of the curriculum. Upon the basis of the general picture of the candidate thus presented, the committee on admission at the designated college decides whether or not this candidate may be regarded as qualified to take examinations under the provisions of the New Plan, a favorable decision meaning that the candidate has up to that point been found eligible, and that the only remaining requirements are four examinations which must be taken in one group and ordinarily in June of the year in which he is graduating from school. It is not demanded that these four examinations shall be

approached by a course of study which in the final year of school is concentrated upon four corresponding courses, but it is usual for the school authorities so to adjust the pupil's work. It is greatly to the candidate's advantage if he 'finishes strong' in this final


The four examinations are not a

rigidly designated list; indeed, anyone who cares to figure out the possible permutations sanctioned by the leading colleges will find that there are

more than two hundred approved combinations. It is generally and properly required that English shall be one subject, and that the second shall be some foreign language, ancient or modern, and that either mathematics or science must be represented. No school is afforded any pretext for reducing the breadth of its course of study. The same values must be represented as if Old Plan examinations were to be taken, but the need of reviewing and cramming for examinations in two or three different years is done away with, as is also the need of bringing various of the earlier studies to definite, circumscribed conclusions at particular dates in June. Furthermore, the temptation to base the choice of studies upon the reputation for simplicity of the examinations in which they severally culminate disappears.

When the examinations have been taken, the results are first appraised by the readers of the College Entrance Examination Board, but reported to the college concerned and not directly to the candidate. The college then considers these examination results, not as isolated criteria to be measured by a predetermined scale, but rather as checks upon the validity of the returns previously furnished by the school.

In this checking of the returns the characteristic strength or weakness of a given school in a given kind of instruction may be observed and heeded, so that, in the discretion of the committee, an abnormal lapse from the expected level by a single student may be investigated, and, if found to be correlated with illness or excessive nervous strain, overlooked. Indeed, some colleges frankly state their readiness to overlook a failure in one of the four examinations, provided that the school record has been satis factory, and that the other three examinations support the verdict of the

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school. The passing of the examination in English is, however, commonly regarded as essential.

It is thus apparent that, even in the senior year of school alone, the New Plan gives to the student an assurance of reasonable flexibility, with emphasis upon positive qualifications rather than upon negative quantities. It represents an effort to find out where his strength lies, not to lay bare his weakness; but perhaps the greatest value of the New Plan is in the reasonable freedom which it bestows upon school and pupil for the planning of studies in the earlier years. The school's horizon is broadened; the interrelations of studies can be and, indeed, must be emphasized; the gains are cumulative throughout the four high-school years and are appreciated as cumulative by the student. Best of all, the student has the assurance that every piece of work well done during those four years does its part in establishing his right to advance, and that all truly educational advances are orderly and related. His teachers in school will pass his whole record on to his prospective teachers in college, and by that record, checked only by the composite picture afforded in four examinations, he will be judged. 'Higher education should represent an extension of secondary education; it is the progressive expansion of an essentially similar process. Admission to college is an institutional transfer within a homogeneous development.'

The New Plan does not exempt any student from hard work, nor does it offer any encouragement to the trifler; but, to a degree which is still far from being adequately recognized, it banishes the petty futilities and the overshadowing worries which have so often oppressed the pupils in our schools, and bestows a sense of ordered progress and an ever-widening view.


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in the parks and fosses of the châteaux, in any uncovered arena that could be found suitable for the purpose. Did not Louis X die from a chill caught while playing in the forest of Vincennes in 1316? Was not Charles IX, when not campaigning or in action, always playing la paume, of which he was a devotee? Longue paume may have faded since there was last an enclosure for it in the Luxembourg Gardens; the appeal of its principles remains, its application to the French character is as insistent as ever. We know that long before Jean Borotra became famous the Basque provinces produced pelota players, whose quickness of foot and hand and surety of aim with the schista were the envy of Europe. No one etymological research may have solved satisfactorily the exact derivation of the word 'tennis.' Several professors of philology assert it had a French origin.

In this year of grace France leads the lawn-tennis world. She is in front not because of her plant or organization or because her lawn-tennis votaries exceed in number those of other countries. Her ascendancy is measured in skill and ardor as tested on the chamive pionship court, and in that indefinable quality which is called personality. The Davis Cup, symbol of international supremacy, is in her possession; her of players hold the championships of England, America, and Australia, the three oldest lawn-tennis countries. The record is at once sweeping and suggestive, a record for which there must be a psychological reason, for very few foresaw its advent five years ago. John Stuart Mill has said that genius can only breathe in an atmosphere of freedom. Can it be doubted that the eraltation of spirit which came to France after the Great War-an exaltation which only a land thrice invaded by a neighbor could experience - radiated through the field of sport? 'Be advised, young men, and whilst the morning shines, gather the flowers.'

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Yet we must go back further than the cataclysm of 1914-18 to trace the evolution of France in lawn tennis. The royal and ancient game of tennis -court tennis, that is may have had its original root in Persia; it was pursued in France centuries ago. A prototype of tennis, handball, - or longue paume, as it was called in the Middle Ages, was played in France

There are no tennis lawns in France; the game, which was founded on British turf, has been pursued on immutable wood or terre battue. Therefore it is called tennis in France, although out of chivalry to English-speaking creators the federated governing body, which has its headquarters in Paris, is called the International Lawn Tennis Federation. The French players of distinction were incubated under the roof of the Tennis Club de Paris at Auteuil. It was to this almost original shrine of the game in Paris that a sturdy band of British pilgrims made an annual visit at Easter time, just before and just after the birth of the new century.

Most of these invaders came from Queen's Club, London. They were true disciples of the game in that they studied strokes and tactics, and cared as much for the stern and level friendly battle as for the tournament tie for which a prize was awarded. Nor were they exponents of any stereotyped style; among them were players of distinctive methods which, when they were observed in practice by the French, helped to propagate the variety and versatility of lawn tennis. Among them was Mr. George Simond, now the best-known referee on the continent, a player of tactical skill who often played with, and against, the Dohertys; Mr. G. A. Caridia, the prince of halfvolleyers, who not only took the ball on its rise, but took it immediately it had left the ground; Mr. M. J. G. Ritchie, an All-Comers' winner at Wimbledon, who has beaten Mr. H. L. Doherty on a covered court, as he has also beaten Mr. Beals Wright in America — a veteran who, despite his fifty-odd years, can still hit the ball into the right place with the right stroke; the late H. S. Mahony, the genial Irishman, who used to cross the Channel with no heavier luggage than a pair of odd shoes which he borrowed from the

dressing-room attendant at Queen's; and one or two other kindred spirits. These English visitors, because of their courtcraft, were able to win most of the events in the first decade, but all the time, with cumulative strength, they were firing the zest of youthful France. The brothers Vacherot - one, one, I believe, was the first T. C. P. champion had easy styles that reflected the natural grace of France; but the first Frenchman to make an inter

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national mark was Max Decugis, who had been to an English school and absorbed, some time before he was

champion, the atmosphere of the game. When Decugis, at the age of fifteen,

had won the Renshaw cup for the boys' championships at Queen's Club, at twenty-one or thereabouts the first international tournament at Auteuil, and three years later the Olympic medal at Athens, the star of France was definitely in the ascendant. Decugis had both personality and wit, and both were useful to him in match play. Not that victory can be achieved by words used on court, although sometimes an ejaculation will so enlist the sympathy of the crowd as to buoy up the speaker in his moment of peril; it was his conversation in the lawn-tennis community which exercised a subtle influence over many of his opponents. They may have felt that this quick-witted Frenchman was seeing through them; he rarely wrapped up his remarks in compli mentary verbiage. When the play began, those of weaker character felt that this man might impose his will, and, since he possessed the strokes to provide a free and forceful game, the psychological advantage was material.

Max Decugis may not have been the father of French lawn tennis in the sense that Dr. James Dwight was its parent in America; he was the first Frenchman to unglove his fist on the tennis court. His successors were a brilliant line of champions, each borrowing something from the past decade, each gaining in championship mettle by the wider vogue of the game, and the increasing competition which it offered. The war cut athwart André Gobert's career when he was in his prime. He was still a great player after it, but his dangerous experiences as an aviator included a fall


the English lines, by the way, where

he encountered tennis friends


nearly brought death and inflicted internal injuries. Gobert was coveredcourt champion of France, as of Eng land, for several years; as a server and a volleyer, supported by a great height

and a great reach, he was almost unlub playable at his best.






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I saw him achieve many of his triumphs; two are salient in my memory. They followed each other in the spring of 1912. In the first, the Frenchman was defending his title of English covered-court champion against the No challenge of Anthony Wilding, who was then holder of the world's grass-court title. Wilding had not lost a set on the way through; it seemed likely that he would regain the title for Britain. And so he would have done if Gobert had not displayed, at the crisis of a grim Ve struggle, a genius of stroke play that was irresistible. Wilding had won the first two sets and gone to 3/1 in the third when, by a fatal damping of his pfires, he encouraged Gobert to make one supreme effort. The holder carried the third and fourth sets by as brilliant a display of service and volleying as was ever seen at Queen's; he traveled serenely to 4/0 in the final set. But the end was not yet. With splendid spirit and concentration the New Zealander pulled up to 4/4. Those who thought they knew Gobert visualized his defeat; they forgot that every French player has mercury in his mind. Gobert served the ninth game as well as he served any game; he won it and the next, and the match and his title were safe. At Stockholm, a week later, the Olympic crown was his by unanimous vote; he won both singles and doubles. It remained for an English base-line player, F. G. Lowe, to strike the sternest blow against him. Lowe won two sets and nearly a third. Wilding had been beaten by C. P. Dixon, whom Gobert, rising to the greatest heights, defeated in the final.



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These matches were under cover; rain, wind, or sun could not affect the flight of the ball or the sighting of it by the player. In the open country, at Wimbledon or St. Cloud, though he

would have his brilliant periods, Gobert was never quite the same force. Two months after he had dominated the Olympic tournament at Stockholm he met Gore on the centre court of the old Wimbledon in the final of the AllComers' singles. His eclipse at the hand of the veteran, who was then exactly twice the age of his adversary, was almost a tragedy. With an initial lead, gained by volleying, Gobert had retreated to the base line, thinking he could hold his man in any position. He never recovered from his disillusionment, and at the end Gore was his master. After the war Gobert still won titles, but his days of glory began to wane, reviving, however, when he won the amateur golf championship of France.

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at Eastbourne in 1920. When Laurentz

had won the first set by a burst of dazzling net play, the great American, realizing that he was in for a stern fight, had to change his tactics and chop slyly to the feet of his opponent.

Of the moderns, I rank Lacoste and Borotra above Cochet, although the smallest of the three has won undying fame at Wimbledon and was the first European to defeat Tilden in the American championship. It is not that Cochet cannot rise to heights of brilliant adventure when all seems lost; that virtue the French have all culti

vated, inspired by the example of their compatriots. But I do not consider

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