sans gathered together to see the universities contend in rowing. Little was said about it, scarcely anything written. Nowadays the crowd assembled to see the practice of the crews equals the number of those who used to watch the actual race; moreover, the minutest facts connected with the play of each oarsman's muscles are anxiously picked up on the spot, form a paragraph in the daily papers, and are telegraphed to the antipodes. Deducting from all this the influence of fashion and the mere gregarious tendencies of society, it is quite clear that there has been a dead set of public feeling toward increasing the importance of all athletics. In short, the tide has borne all before it, and scarcely a warning voice has been heard hinting at the possibility of going too far; and, consequently, very many boys soon after they enter the schools (some of them before) are impressed with the notion that athletics are to be pursued as the one important thing—in conjunction with reading, perhaps, si non, quocunque modo—but pursued with every nerve they must be."
Of the elements of danger developed in the system under this powerful pressure, the writer remarks: "At first sight, any one would say that its chief danger in the present day lies in the superfluity of time devoted to various out-door pursuits at school. This is wrong. I do not deny, of course, that too much time may be, and not unfrequently is, absorbed daily by games; but that is not the chief danger: authorities could easily suppress an extra hour or two if they saw fit. But it is not generally realized that the effects of games last far beyond the close of play-hours. Leaving out of sight all physical considerations, over-fatigue, etc., which are nevertheless very important, let us look merely at the effects on the mind. Suppose the case of a lad in a school where athletics are much thought of, who is perhaps just emerging from obscurity because it is found that he can row or bowl well. He finds himself with an unlimited prospect of fame before him; if he makes a great struggle, some important step in his 'young ambition's ladder' will be reached; he will be elevated into a social atmosphere now tenanted by the high ones of the earth, who look down on him scornfully, but, in the event of his success, would soon be walking arm in arm with him. A fascination, unimaginable by the outside world, urges him onward, and, with a sense of his increasing importance, comes an increasing appreciation of the method by which he has risen; so that, even with his books before him, his mind is wandering among the scenes of his ephemeral triumphs and reverses while he ruminates on his last big innings or the prospects of distinction in a coming foot-ball match. Prizes, places in the school, are but little things, and are treated as of little worth. This statement of the case is not a whit exaggerated as far as the majority of athletes are concerned. It needs a very exceptional boy indeed, after having been engaged in an absorbing pursuit, to unshackle straightway his energies and thoughts simply at the call of duty, probably uninviting, irksome
