s is lost. Furthermore, the
class is divided into sections and sub-sections. The occasions on
which the student can see his entire class together are becoming
comparatively few. The so-called elective studies will also help to
keep down the class spirit. In many colleges the curriculum is no
longer an inflexible routine. On reaching a certain standing the
student, although not entirely free to select his studies, has at
least an option. He may take German instead of Greek, French in place
of Latin, advanced mathematics or the natural sciences in place of
both. Whatever estimate we may set upon the intrinsic value of
such options, we can scarcely doubt their efficacy in the matter of
discipline. The class which branches out on different lines of study
has already ceased to be a class. The results of the system of free
selection established at the Cornell University are very instructive.
We find here three or four courses of study, now running parallel, now
overlapping one another, and outside of them the elective students who
follow partial courses or specialties. The university has scrupulously
refrained from the official use of the terms Senior, Junior, Sophomore
and Freshman, and arranges the students' names in the index in
alphabetical order. The sections in certain departments, especially in
the modern languages and history, are made up of students of all four
years. Even the courses themselves are not inflexible. The policy
of accepting _bona fide_ equivalents has been adopted, and has given
satisfaction to both teachers and pupils. There are probably not
twenty students in the university at this moment who have recited side
by side on exactly the same subjects and in the same order for three
years. Hence the absence of any strong class feeling. Although those
who have attended the university the same number of years may try hard
at times to convince themselves and others that they are a class in
the ordinary sense, they meet with little success. Individual freedom
of opinion and conduct is the rule, and such a thing as class coercion
is an impossibility. At one time it was argued by the adversaries of
the university that this laxity must result in lowering the standard
of scholarship. But recent events lead us to the opposite conclusion.
The Saratoga regatta last summer proved that the Cornell students are
not wanting in muscle, and the inter-collegiate contest of this winter
shows still more conclusively that they