Not the least of these is the consideration whether the cap-and-gown habit is becoming.  If it is not becoming, it will not go, not even by an amendment to the Constitution of the United States; for woman’s dress obeys always the higher law.  Masculine opinion is of no value on this point, and the Drawer is aware of the fact that if it thinks the cap and gown becoming, it may imperil the cap-and-gown cause to say so; but the cold truth is that the habit gives a plain girl distinction, and a handsome girl gives the habit distinction.  So that, aside from the mysterious working of feminine motive, which makes woman a law unto herself, there should be practical unanimity in regard to this habit.  There is in the cap and gown a subtle suggestion of the union of learning with womanly charm that is very captivating to the imagination.  On the other hand, all this may go for nothing with the girl herself, who is conscious of the possession of quite other powers and attractions in a varied and constantly changing toilet, which can reflect her moods from hour to hour.  So that if it is admitted that this habit is almost universally becoming today, it might, in the inscrutable depths of the feminine nature—­the something that education never can and never should change—­be irksome tomorrow, and we can hardly imagine what a blight to a young spirit there might be in three hundred and sixty-five days of uniformity.

The devotees of the higher education will perhaps need to approach the subject from another point of view—­namely, what they are willing to surrender in order to come into a distinctly scholastic influence.  The cap and gown are scholastic emblems.  Primarily they marked the student, and not alliance with any creed or vows to any religious order.  They belong to the universities of learning, and today they have no more ecclesiastic meaning than do the gorgeous robes of the Oxford chancellor and vice-chancellor and the scarlet hood.  From the scholarly side, then, if not from the dress side, there is much to be said for the cap and gown.  They are badges of devotion, for the time being, to an intellectual life.

They help the mind in its effort to set itself apart to unworldly pursuits; they are indications of separateness from the prevailing fashions and frivolities.  The girl who puts on the cap and gown devotes herself to the society which is avowedly in pursuit of a larger intellectual sympathy and a wider intellectual life.  The enduring of this habit will have a confirming influence on her purposes, and help to keep her up to them.  It is like the uniform to the soldier or the veil to the nun—­a sign of separation and devotion.  It is difficult in this age to keep any historic consciousness, any proper relations to the past.  In the cap and gown the girl will at least feel that she is in the line of the traditions of pure learning.  And there is also something of order and discipline in the uniforming of a community set apart for an unworldly purpose.  Is it believed that three or four years of the kind of separateness marked by this habit in the life of a girl will rob her of any desirable womanly quality?