great masters than one. And just now the first scholars in this country are laying plans to facilitate the migration of our graduate students from one university to another, in order that they may touch the best teachers in more than

one.

While the old college was made illustrious by some such famous teachers as those I have named, it is to be observed that the university of our time demands, as a rule, much larger attainments in its professors than were formerly asked. Fifty years ago many professorial chairs were filled by men who had not made much special study of the branch or branches which they were appointed to teach. I say branches, because in many cases, in scientific teaching generally, a man was expected to teach two or three, or even more, branches. Not infrequently a preacher, who had become weary of writing sermons, or whose parish had become weary of hearing his sermons, was appointed to a chair, because it was hoped he could teach respectably, while he could commend the college to the public by supplying pulpits of the

vicinity from time to time. Having this means of earning something on Sundays, he could afford to accept a moderate salary for his college work. One such gentleman applied for a chair in a college with whose faculty I was connected, and when asked what chair he thought he was fitted to fill, replied that he thought he could slide into almost any one of them.

But teaching in a college or university of the first rank has happily become a profession, for which long and careful preparation is now exacted. A man who has failed in another calling can no longer expect to "slide" into a professorial chair. True, not all the learning which can be acquired in the best American and European universities will make a successful professor of the man who has not in him the divine gift of teaching. But even the possessor of this divine gift must bring to his work now a generous outfit of learning in his chosen branch. And the leading colleges and universities in our country may now well be proud of the brilliant generation of scholars who fill most of their important chairs of instruction.

T

HE writer of "A Word on College Educa

tion in the August number of SELF CULTURE has well stated the fundamental principles of modern college education as it actually exists. All that he is clamoring for has already been done, and the thing for his "great spirit of irreverence» to do now would therefore be to clamor against it-either for a return to more of the old-fashioned Greek culture (as Professor Harry Thurston Peck did in the "Cosmopolitan» about two years ago) or for some new reform. His "Horace, Livy, and Greek" represent no college of to-day. In the course at Harvard College, for instance, not a word of Latin, Greek, or Mathematics is required; in Columbia no Greek, under certain conditions no Mathematics, and after Freshman year no Latin, are required. Cornell, Yale, Princeton, and the rest, are rapidly granting the same freedom, or have already done so. I know of no college where any one of these subjects is required after the Sophomore year.

Now as to what the writer calls for in place of this imaginary mediævalism, -"the philosophy of history; the simple scientific reasons of things; governments and how they are formed and how they work." A man at Harvard may be studying all these in his Freshman year,— and, if he pleases, nothing else for all four years, except English, provided he has fulfilled the re

quirement of knowing two other "living languages," which the critic also suggests as an innovation. At Columbia he must have the two "living languages" and English; he must have history and a science course in his Freshman or Sophomore year; he must have "Political Economy" (a good live course in it too, running from the science and history of government to "the management of millions") in his Sophomore or Junior year; and he may go on with these things all he pleases in the last two years. This is fairly representative of other college courses. And as for the still more "practical" demands: every college of any importance now has its "scientific school» or "institute of technology" set down beside it, to teach, literally, railroad-building, bridgebuilding, electrical engineering, all sorts of building and engineering, mining (one of the chief subjects at Columbia), etc.; and often, as at Harvard, these subjects are freely interchangeable with the usual "college» work for college degrees; at Columbia they may occupy the whole Senior year, etc. Really, the plea should be, if anything, for the old-fashioned "mediæval" studies,- at least we should give those who want the good old classical culture a chance to get it, for it is a real and good thing in its place, and is no longer usurping too large a share of the curriculum.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

C. H. PAGE.

Τ

HE kea, the large and beautiful mountain parrot of New Zealand, proved so destructive to sheep that special measures were taken to destroy it, there being a standing offer of one shilling per head for its destruction.

These birds had developed (as is mentioned below) a carnivorous habit of attacking sheep -generally the weaker members of the flock. Having overcome and worried the animal by force of numbers, the keas would proceed to eat their way into the intestinal cavity, generally directing their principal energies toward securing the kidneys and the fat surrounding them.

On the Tasman Glacier they are fairly numerous. At an altitude of about 4,000 feet, keas may be seen soaring like eagles far overhead, uttering their cry, "Kiiaa! Kiiaa!» A party camping on the glacier describes the birds as becoming anxious to inspect them closely, finally gathering close about the hut.

"At length they began to drop down, some upon the slopes of the mountains, others on the moraine, on the ice of the glacier itself, or among the shrubs in the narrow intervening valley. All the while they seemed to be talking in their strange tongue to each other, from point to point, and gradually closing upon us. Their language became more animated, they mewed like cats, howled like dogs, chattered like monkeys, and made many various sounds, the favorite being a yelping like that of a pleased puppy.

"We did our best to imitate these sounds, and had no difficulty in getting individual keas to answer us. As evening approached, their desire for a nearer acquaintance increased. The notion of fear never at any time seemed to enter into the question. They approached

slowly, hopping, flying, and walking, not with caution, but rather with circumspection, as if everything on the road had to be examined. On the high flat, just opposite the house, they were very busy. Here they found meattins, old rags, bottles, and other camp refuse; these were examined with the greatest care. A sardine-tin would occupy a bird for half an hour; it had to be turned over and over and thrown first one way and then another, then up in the air. A glass bottle-head was tossed about, apparently because it made a ringing sound; the same bird tossed it up in the air dozens of times. Some of the newer tins contained bits of meat, and these had to be carefully examined, but I could not see that they ate either this or the good meat and bread given them. Pieces of wood of considerable size were bitten into small fragments, apparently in search of grubs, but possibly only as pastime; the operation showed the great strength of their long, hard beaks.

"All the while they were whistling and chattering in their own fashion. We counted sixteen in all, and this lot, with occasional changes, hung about for the four days we spent there. Gradually they closed up to the hut. As we sat at meals inside they came to the open door, and in turns looked in. They did not enter, as they sometimes do, but stood in the doorway. Then our fire, which was made in a large nail-can, with a draughthole, attracted much attention. The fire was carefully examined through the draught-hole. Then one bird, overcome with curiosity, put his beak in the hole and got it burned. He hopped away with an air of indignation, but this did not prevent two or three others from making the same mistake. It was very interesting to stand among the stones at dusk, and turn from bird to bird as they walked up to us to see what was going on, sometimes hopping and sometimes flying from one boulder to another. One of the party held out a letter in his hand to a bird on a boulder; the kea nibbled the other end of it. This intense curiosity is enough to account for the kea learning to eat sheep; the old rags and socks near the camp were riddled with holes torn by them. No doubt they have explored dead sheep in the same way, and, liking the meat, have thus learned the trick of eating their way into live ones."

F

Ew people are aware that the secret of keeping gold-fish in health is the maintenance of an even balance between animal and vegetable life in the aquarium. Plain water alone will soon develop a fungus which attacks the fishes' gills and skin and causes death. Some water-weed, like the Vallisneria, should be planted in the tank, but it must not be allowed to spread too rapidly. If this is permitted, the glass will take on a coat of green slime, showing that vegetable matter is in excess.

About the best method of keeping this balance is to introduce into the tank some watersnails, which will keep the glass clean, and, in proportion to their numbers, will keep the balance even.

Should the fish become affected with the fungus growth mentioned, they may sometimes be saved by a careful brushing with a camel'shair brush, and restoration of the balance of life in the tank as speedily as possible.

Fish are very often injured by excessive feeding. More food is thrown into the tank than they can dispose of, and it speedily sours and taints the water. The best food is insects, worms, and fresh-water crustacea, as caddis worms, with small quantities of breadcrumb or small dough-balls. Bran is sometimes given, but all forms of bread or grain must be fed sparingly in order to avoid the souring mentioned above.

ELFORD E. TREFFRY.

a great highway, but little removed from one of the busiest convergent points of London's traffic, and yet enough withdrawn from the actual noise and hurry to meet her purpose of bestowing spiritual peace. The architect and artist were already chosen. The former was Mr. Herbert P. Horne, the latter Mr. Frederic Shields, and at Mrs. Gurney's request and expense they visited the northern Italian cities to gain, if not inspiration, which was already present, at least suggestions for their treatment of the work. Construction began shortly after their

wise to await the completion of the building and the careful preparation of its walls for strictly mural paintings, it was resolved to make use of a medium that would permit a beginning of the work in the studio while construction was yet in progress. Accordingly blocks of slate were riveted to the walls, with an airchamber behind them, and on these are affixed the artist's canvases, so that the effect of mural painting without suggestion of framed pictures is easily given. That the fresh permanency of the work may be assured, the deed of gift stipulates that no artificial light shall ever be introduced. The hours of God's day are sufficient for the purposes of the chapel.

Mrs. Gurney died in 1896, after seven months of illness had long kept her from the sight of her Refuge, or, as she called it, "the Glory." The last time she saw it alone was the day after the scaffolding

had been removed from which the artist had painted the frieze and the panels of the enclosing woodwork. The next day there was the first of a series of lectures on the purposes of the chapel decoration, to which many of Mrs. Gurney's friends had been invited, and on the day after that she was stricken. The large paintings, of which a number are still unfinished, were not then in place.

To understand and earnestly to appreciate the decorative scheme, it is necessary to keep in mind the purpose of this chapel. That, of course, gives the dominant character to the plan, offers to it its keynote. The invitation which is on the outer wall finds its complement in the words that are seen on the decorated timbers of the

approve; but the function of the chapel, the design to make its decoration appeal to the jaded brain and to the untaught passer, needing its lesson more often than art critic and fresh intellect, is to be considered as a probable and sufficient explanation. At the right of the door in entering there is also a very beautiful— if somewhat conventionally appropriate and simply symbolical-figure of the Good Shepherd, crowned with thorns and scarred with wounds, and going before his sheep through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. He carries a lamb in his arms, and restrains another from the edge of the dark abyss with his rod and staff of comfort. But one must not carry into the chapel this coldly critical attitude, though