6jS THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



sans gathered together to see the universities contend in rowing. Lit- 

 tle 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 con- 

 nected with the play of each oarsman's muscles are anxiously picked 

 up on the spot, form a paragraph in the daily papers, and are tele- 

 graphed 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 con- 

 junction 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 pow- 

 erful pressure, the w^riter 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 : authori- 

 ties 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 considera- 

 tions, 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 stej) 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 wan- 

 dering 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 con- 

 cerned. 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 



