in person the attractions and the associations of these two great historic sites.  One likes to think how poor scholars three or four hundred years ago used to flock to Oxford, regardless of cold, privation, and hardship, so that they might satisfy their hunger and thirst for knowledge.  I like to think of them in connection with this movement.  I like to think of them in connection with students like those miners in Northumberland, whom I know well, and who are mentioned in the report of the Cambridge Extension Society as, after a day’s hard work in the pit, walking four or five miles through cold and darkness and rough roads to hear a lecture, and then walking back again the same four or five miles.  You must look for the same enthusiasm, the same hunger and thirst for knowledge, that presided over the foundation of the Universities many centuries ago, to carry on this work, to strengthen and stimulate men’s faith in knowledge, their hopes from it, and their zeal for it.

Speaking now of the particular kind of knowledge of which I am going to say a few words—­how does literature fare in these important operations?  Last term, out of fifty-seven courses in the Cambridge scheme, there were ten on literature:  out of thirty-one of our courses, seven were on literature.  I am bound to say I think that such a position for literature in the scheme is very reasonably satisfactory.  I have made some inquiries, since I knew that I was going to speak here, in the great popular centres of industry in the North and in Scotland as to the popularity of literature as a subject of teaching, I find very much what I should have expected.  The professors all tell very much the same story, and this is, that it is extremely hard to interest any considerable number of people in subjects that seem to have no direct bearing upon the practical work of everyday life.  There is a disinclination to study literature for its own sake, or to study anything which does not seem to have a visible and direct influence upon the daily work of life.  The nearest approach to a taste for literature is a certain demand for instruction in history with a little flavour of contemporary politics.  In short, the demand for instruction in literature is strictly moderate.  That is what men of experience tell me, and we have to recognise it, nor ought we to be at all surprised.  Mr. Goschen, when he spoke some years ago, said there were three motives which might induce people to seek the higher education.  First, to obtain greater knowledge for bread-winning purposes.  From that point of view science would be most likely to feed the classes.  Secondly, the improvement of one’s knowledge of political economy, and history, and facts bearing upon the actual political work and life of the day.  Thirdly, was the desire of knowledge as a luxury to brighten life and kindle thought.  I am very much afraid that, in the ordinary temper of our people, and the ordinary mode of looking at life, the last of these