“And

  “’What do you think
  I’ll shave you for nothing and give you a drink.’

“You will observe that, while the wording is the same, the inflection is different.  Please punctuate them properly, and express the idea I intend to convey.”

This from a professor, keen-eyed and unassuming in demeanor, to a big, long-limbed young fellow, facing, with misgivings despite himself, a portion of the test of whether or not he were qualified for admission as a freshman into one of our great modern universities.  He had not been under much apprehension until the moment for the beginning of the trial.  There was now to be met the first issue in the new field.  He plunged into his task.

Then the professor: 

“Well, yes, you have caught my idea.  How write upon the board:  ’This is the forest primeval,’ and a dozen lines or so following, from this slip.  Scan that for me; parse it; show me the relations of words and clauses, and all that sort of thing.”

A pause; some only half-confident explanation, and enlargement upon the subject by the young man.

The professor again: 

“H-u-u-m—­well—­now you may write—­no, you needn’t—­just tell me the difference, in your opinion, between what are known as conjunctions and prepositions.  Say what you please.  We ask no odds of them.  Be utterly free in your comment.”

More explanations by the young man.  The professor:  “We’ll not pursue that subject.  You might tell us, incidentally, what a trochaic foot is?—­Yes.—­And who wrote that ‘Forest primeval’ you just scanned?—­Certainly—­That will do, I think.  Oh, by the way, who was Becky Sharp?—­The most desirable woman in ‘Vanity Fair,’ eh?  I may be half inclined to agree with you, but I was asking who, not what.  Good afternoon.  You have passed your examination in English literature.  I trust you may be equally successful in other departments.  Good afternoon, sir.”

And this was all from a professor whose name was known on more than one continent and who was counted one of the greatest of educators.  Such was his test of what of English literature was required in a freshman.  A lesser man than this great teacher would have taken an hour for the task and learned less, for, after all, did not the examination cover the whole ground?  The droll range of the inquiry was such that the questioner had gauged, far better than by some more ponderous and detailed system, the quality of the young man’s knowledge in one field.  One of the strong teachers this, one not afraid of a departure, and one of those who, within the last quarter of a century, have laid the foundations of new American universities deep and wide, and given to the youth facilities for a learning not creed-bound, nor school-bound, but both liberal and of all utility.