t without them. But, in the main, though
the task of comparison is difficult, they do not appear to be at all
inferior in manliness, in modesty of bearing, and in reverence to the
generations that have gone before. Here and there in London the antics
of some youth plunged into a torrent of folly before he had had time
even to think of being wise, excite the comments of the world. But
London is not the school to which one would look for youth at its
best. To find that in any considerable quantity one must travel either
to Cambridge or to Oxford, and inspect the average undergraduates, who
form the vast majority at both these Universities.

Now the Average Undergraduate, as he exists, and has for ages existed,
is not, perhaps, a very wise young man. Nor does he possess those
brilliant qualities which bring the Precocious Undergraduate to
premature ruin. He has his follies, but they are not very foolish; he
has his affectations, but they are innocent; he has his extravagances,
but they pass away, and leave him not very much the worse for the
experience. On the whole, however, he is a fine specimen of the young
Englishman--brave, manly, loyal, and upright. He is the salt of his
University, and an honour to the country that produces him.

The Average Undergraduate will have been an average schoolboy, not
afflicted with too great a love of classics or mathematics, and
gifted, unfortunately, with a fine contempt for modern languages. But
he will have taken an honourable part in all school-games, and will
have acquired through them not only vigorous health and strength,
but that tolerant and generous spirit of forbearance without which no
manly game can be carried on. These qualities he will carry with him
to the University which his father chooses for him, and to which he
himself looks forward rather as a home of liberty slightly tempered by
Proctors, than as a temple of learning, moderated by examiners.

During the October term which makes him a freshman, the Average
Undergraduate devotes a considerable time to mastering the etiquette
of his University and College. He learns that it is not customary to
shake hands with his friends more than twice in each term, once at
the beginning, and again at the end of the term. If he is a Cambridge
man, he will cut the tassel of his academical cap short; at Oxford
he will leave it long; but at both he will discover that sugar-tongs
are never used, and that the race of Dons exists merel