President Eliot at the dinner given to the crew said of rowing, "It is a sport which is absolutely clean and honorable, and there is only one other sport in college of which you can say that, and that is tennis." This statement brings out the essence of the menace which hangs over our other forms of intercollegiate sport. The situation seems to be universally regarded as deplorable, and the fact that a remedy is needed has not lacked its share of emphasis. But in finding the right remedy we cannot be too careful or look too deeply into the true nature of the situation. Deliberate consideration of how sports have come to be as they are, and what place they hold in the development of manhood, is important as touching closely a considerable factor in the moral influence of college life.

The cause of the trouble may be traced roughly as follows: Ath!etics appeal to the college man, and he, growing a bit oblivious to studies, becomes so absorbed in the game, that his desire for success becomes, during the season, his predominant motive. Athletics are enticing to the public; the intercollegiate game draws spectators by the thousand, and takes a place in the newspaper beside international events; the football captain becomes a public character. Love of the game and desire to see the college win bring back the graduates to coach the team, and finally such a pitch of excitement is reached, and such importance is attached to victory, that the sense of honor succumbs often both in player and coach.

This seems to be the keynote of the trouble. The desire to win brings a temptation to foul play which men of strong character fail

to resist. Coaches have said of a subtle and efficient method of cheating, "Don't use that till you absolutely have to." And the moral sense of the growing boy rather naturally does not rise above the standard set by the coaches, whom he instinctively obeys. Can we wonder that such moral influences are vehemently condemned? I have no doubt that this subtle eating away of the sense of honor by the standards accepted in athletics has had much to do with preparing men for the practice of those business methods which we condemn.

Two other results of this evolution of athletics have had their share of criticism. One is the fact that too much time and attention is withdrawn from college studies. The other is that the "varsity player" gets such a heavy dose of the game and of training that it ceases to be a pleasure, and instead of being "sport for sport's sake," it becomes a business.

Now having considered the growth of these evils, let us look a little more deeply into the causes and see why they have grown, and whether they show that there is something rotten in growing human nature. The college man may seem pretty remote from the small child, and yet he once was the same thing, and some of the same forces still take part in his growth. Mr. Joseph Lee in his article on "Play and Playgrounds" brings out some truths which I think apply to all stages of growth. He says: "The thing that most needs to be understood about play is that it is not a luxury, but a necessity. It is not simply something that a child likes to have; it is something that he must have if he is ever to grow up. It is more than an essential part of his education; it is an essential part of the law of his growth, of the process by which he becomes a man at all.

"You cannot watch a child playing without being convinced that the thing that he is doing is serious. . . . In truth, the play of children, in the main, is not play at all in our grown-up sense of the word.

"Play is a serious matter to the child. And the child is right. Nature's purpose, as declared in the play instinct, is a serious one. It is the most serious and vital purpose she has in regard to him.

The boy in his play is obeying, in most literal sense, the injunction whispered continually to every fiber in his body: 'Be a man.' Thus play represents in education Nature's prescribed course. What we may choose to do in school or elsewhere is an elective, very valuable in providing that we shall grow up wise and useful, fitted to our particular surroundings. Play represents the vital part, without which we cannot grow up at all."

If we may suppose that the college man has not wholly outgrown the laws which governed his earlier boyhood, this may suggest to us that perhaps it is in obedience to some fundamental law of growth that he takes athletics seriously, puts his heart into them, and makes sacrifices to achieve success. On this point Dean Briggs has expressed himself so well in "Routine and Ideals" that it seems worth while to quote him at some length. He says: "I have said elsewhere-and I believe it with all my might-that one reason for the hold of athletic sport on our schools and colleges is its awakening in many boys their first, or almost their first, ambition to do something as well as it can be done, and the recognition of severe routine as a means to that end... A thoroughly trained football player, meeting the supreme. test, may find himself lifted up by the inspiration of the moment, of the crowd, of the cheering and of college patriotism, so that—as some one has put it—he plays better than he knows how. In a few instances every man in a team plays better than he knows how.

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"Older people can hardly appreciate the stimulus to every power of mind and body in a great athletic contest. Here is work in which youth itself is an advantage, in which the highest honor may be won by a young man who has missed all earlier opportunities for doing anything as well as he knew how; here is a fresh chance to show of what stuff-mental and physical-he is made, and a cause that appeals to youth so strongly as to make obstacles springs of courage." And again of the successful player in after life, he says: "He has already been tried in times of stress and found not wanting. If, as sometimes happens, he has shown not merely that he is always to be counted on, but that in the thick of things he is inspired and inspiring, he has