of the House of Commons to the plans which the Government may propose for the maintenance of the navy. The reduction of the army will involve far more complicated considerations; and the statesmanlike prudence of the Minister will, to a great extent, be tested by his success in dealing with the question. Above all things, it is necessary to avoid the temptation of deferring to cant or to clamour. One party will repeat that England is not a great military nation. On the other side, the disasters of the Crimea will be eited in proof of the dangers arising from insufficient establishments. A wise Government will listen to neither. England is and ought to be, potentially, a great military power; not, however, by squandering her resources in idle display, but by husbanding her strength until a fit occasion requires that it should be put forth. The losses in the Crimea may be traced to causes in a great measure unconnected with the comparatively limited scale of the peace establishment; but it may be admitted, that at the commencement of a war it is generally inexpedient to undertake a great offensive campaign. Two years may be considered a reasonable period for developing the military strength of the nation; and within that time her army has been brought into a condition of material efficiency, which may well be the envy of Europe. The losses of the troops in the Crimea have lately fallen short of the mortality experienced by the Guards in London. It is believed that the condition of the French Contingent offers the most striking contrast to the flourishing state of the English army. Those who complain that an inefficient military force was maintained during the long peace, must be understood to mean that larger sums ought to have been annually expended on the army. An increase of one million in the average estimates from 1815 to 1854 would have been equivalent to sixty or seventy millions, in addition to the total loss of productive labour contributed to the country by several thousand men for a period of forty years. In other words, a more complete preparation for the Russian war would have cost as much as the war itself, in addition to an enormous waste of labour. No wise Government will throw away the means of greatness for the sake of proving, on some single occasion, that the country is already great. The scientific branches of the service ought to be maintained in perfect efficiency. Stores of all kinds should be provided, but not in immoderate quantities. The officers of the army should be encouraged to understand their duties; and the proper authorities should know where to find, in case of need, a competent general and an instructed staff. The nation may, after recent experience, be safely trusted to enter the ranks of the army when they are really wanted. The force originally despatched to the Crimea immediately after the declaration of war, would have been amply sufficient to obviate all danger of invasion. For offensive operations, a preparation of several months may probably be necessary. With a swarming population, and with untold wealth, England will always be able to assert her rights against any foreign enemy. FRASER'S MAGAZINE. MAY, 1856. COLLEGE LIFE AT GLASGOW. IN the last days of October, just when winter is fairly settling down upon smoky and noisy Glasgow, when every leaf has gone (for the leaves go early) from the trees near it, and when fogs shorten the day at its beginning and its end, there begins to appear, intermingled with the crowd in the Trongate, and staring in at the shop-windows of Buchanan-street with a curiosity fresh from the country, a host of lads, varying in age from decided boyhood to decided manhood, conspicuous by the scarlet mantle they wear. Those glaring robes have not been seen before since May-day - for the vacation at Glasgow College lasts from the first of May to about the twenty-sixth of October,-and now their appearance announces to the citizens that winter has decidedly set in, the season, in Glasgow, of ceaseless rain, fog, and smoke; of eager business, splendid hospitality, and laborious study. Through the close stifling wynds or alleys of the High-street the word runs, that 'The Colley dougs have come back again;' and by the time that November is a few days old, the college courts, which through the summer months lay still and deserted, are thronged with a motley crowd of many hundreds of young men, students of arts, theology, medicine, and law. The stranger in Glasgow who has paid a visit to the noble cathedral, has probably, in returning from it, walked down the Highstreet, a steep and filthy way of tall houses, now abandoned to the poorest classes of the community, where dirty women in mutches, each followed by two or three squalid children, hold loud conversations all day long; and the alleys leading from which pour forth a flood of poverty, disease, and crime. On the left hand of the High-street, where it becomes a shade more VOL. LIII. NO. CCCXVII. respectable, a dark low-browed building, of three stories in height, fronts the street for two or three hundred yards. That is Glasgow College, or the University of Glasgow; for here, as also at Edinburgh, the University consists of a single College. The first gateway at which we arrive opens into a dulllooking court, inhabited by the professors, eight or ten of whom have houses here. Further down, a low archway, which is the main entrance to the building, admits to two or three quadrangles, occupied by the various class-rooms. There is something impressive in the sudden transition from one of the most crowded and noisy streets of the city, to the calm and stillness of the College courts. The first court we enter is a small one, surrounded by buildings of a dark and venerable aspect. A fine antique staircase of massive stone leads to the Faculty Hall, or Senate-House; and a spire of considerable height surmounts a vaulted archway leading to the second court. This court is much larger than the one next the street, and with its turrets and winding staircases, narrow windows and high-pitched roofs, would quite come up to our ideas of academic architecture; but unhappily, some years since one side of this venerable quadrangle was pulled down, and a large building in the Grecian style erected in its place, which, like a pert interloper, contrasts most disagreeably with the remainder of the old monastic pile. Passing out of this court by another vaulted passage, we enter an open square, to the right of which is the University library, and at some little distance an elegant Doric temple, which is greatly admired by those who (unlike ourselves) prefer Grecian to Gothic architecture. This is the Hunterian Museum, and contains a valuable collection of subjects in K K natural history and anatomy, bequeathed by the eminent surgeon whose name it bears. Beyond this building, the College gardens stretch away to a considerable distance. The ground is undulating-there are many trees, and what was once a pleasant country stream flows through the gardens; but Glasgow factories and Glasgow smoke have quite spoiled what must once have been a delightful retreat from the dust and glare of the city. The trees are now quite blackened, the stream (hight the Molendinar Burn) became so offensive that it was found necessary to arch it over, and drifts of stifling and noisome smoke trail slowly all day over the College gardens. There are no evergreens nor flowers; and the students generally prefer to take their constitutional' in the purer air of the western outskirts of Glasgow. Let us suppose that the young student, brought from the country by parent or guardian, has come to town to enter upon his university career. The order in which the classes are taken is as follows: first year, Latin and Greek; second, Logic and Greek; third, Moral Philosophy and Mathematics; fourth, Natural Philosophy. The classes must be attended in this order by those students who intend taking their degree, or going into the church; but any person may attend any class upon signing a declaration to the effect that he is not studying for the church. Practically, the classes are almost invariably attended in the order which has been mentioned, which is called the College curriculum. For several days before the classes open, the professors remain in their houses, that students may call upon them to enter their class. Our young friend and his governor call upon the professor whose class is to be entered. They find him seated in his study, a low-roofed chamber of small dimensions, but abundantly provided with the comforts which beseem a sedentary and studious life. There is the writing-table at which to sit; by the window, the desk at which to write or read while standing; there is the cool seat of polished birch, without a trace of cushion; and the vast easy-chair, where horse-hair and morocco have done their utmost, to receive the weary man of learning in the day's last luxurious hour of leisure. The professor is seated at his table, fresh and hearty from his six months' holiday, brown from his shooting-box in the Highlands, or his ramble over the Continent, or his pretty villa in the sweetest nook of the beautiful Frith of Clyde. Three or four lads who have come to enter the class, fidget uneasily on their chairs, with awe-struck faces. The professor may perhaps, for his own guidance, make some inquiry as to the previous acquirements of the student, but there is no preliminary test applied to ascertain the student's fitness for entering college. The ceremony of entering the class is completed by paying the professor his fee, which in almost every class is three guineas. In return, the professor gives the student a ticket of admission to the class-room; on which, at the end of the session, he writes a certificate of the student's having attended his class. The more civilized students take care to have the exact amount of the fee prepared beforehand, which they place on the professor's table, and which he receives without remark, thus softening the mercantile transaction as much as may be. Others hand their money to the professor, and demand the change in regular shop fashion. It is amusing to remark the demeanour of the different professors in taking their three guineas. Some are dignifiedly unconscious of the sum received, and although a sharp glance may ascertain that the amount is there, no remark is made. Others take up the money, count it over, and pocket it with a bow, saying, 'Thank you, sir; much obliged to you, sir.' And what a strange mixed company the thirteen or fourteen hundred students of Glasgow College make up! Boys of eleven or twelve years old (Thomas Campbell entered at the latter age); men with grey hair, up to the age of fifty or sixty; great stout fellows from the plough; men in considerable number from the north of Ireland; lads from countinghouses in town, who wish to improve their minds by a session at the logic class; English dissenters, excluded 1856.] The Latin and Greek Classes. from the Universities of England, who have come down to the enlightened country where a Turk or a Bhuddist may graduate if he will; young men with high scholarship from the best public schools; and others not knowing a letter of Greek and hardly a word of Latin. Mr. Lockhart (late of the Quarterly Review), says with truth that, the greater part of the students attending the Scotch colleges, consist of persons whose situation in life, had they been born in England, must have left them no chance of being able to share the advantages of an academical education.' 'Any young man who can afford to wear a decent coat, and live in a garret upon porridge or herrings, may, if he pleases, come to Edinburgh, and pass through his academical career just as creditably as is required or expected.' And, in consequence of all this, the Universities of Scotland educate, in proportion to the size and wealth of the two countries, twenty times a larger number than those of England educate.'* Let us imagine our student now fairly entered upon his work. In company with two or three hundred of the newest and brightest gowns, he has, no doubt, attended the ceremony of commencement in the Common Hall, and listened to many good advices from the excellent Principal, who yearly begs those possessors of rosy cheeks and merry eyes to remember they are no longer schoolboys;' a request invariably received with loud applause. The bustle of the first start over, the student has fallen into the regular order of his work. The Latin and Greek classes he finds are very much like classes at school, the main difference being that they are attended by larger numbers, and accordingly that each student is but rarely called on for examination. When a student is called,' he construes five or six lines; the professor then puts a number of questions upon what has been read. Should the student answer them all correctly, his companions generally ruff or applaud him as he sits down. Should he fail to answer any question, the professor asks if any one 507 in the same bench can answer it. If no one can, he next names the numbers of the various benches one after another, and the students in each have then an opportunity of making their knowledge and application apparent to their fellowstudents; by whom, at the end of the session, the class prizes are voted. Lockhart says with justice of the Scotch professors of Latin and Greek, that The nature of the duties they perform of course reduces them to something quite different from what we (in England) should understand by the name they bear. They are not employed in assisting young men to study, with greater facility or advantage, the poets, the historians, or the philosophers of an tiquity; nay, it can scarcely be said, in any proper meaning of the term, that they are employed in teaching the prin ciples of language. They are school masters in the strictest sense of the word; for their time is spent in laying the very lowest part of the foundation on which a superstructure of learning must be reared. A profound and accomplished scholar may at times be found discharging these duties; but most assuredly there is no need either of depth or elegance to enable him to discharge them as well as the occasion requires. The complaints of Professor Blackie, of the Greek Chair at Edinburgh (which lately formed the subject of an article in this maga zine), prove what indeed needs no proof to any one acquainted with the Universities of Scotland, that no improvement has taken place in the thirty-seven years since Lockhart thus wrote. Greek professors are still expected to begin with the alphabet. The truth is, that while things remain as at present, a good energetic teacher from a public school would make a better Latin or Greek professor, than a man of fine scholarship. Fancy Mr. Blackie patiently listening to a dunce blundering through ὁ ἡ το Or think of assigning the task of grounding a ploughman in the inflections of TUTTO, to the gentle and refined Mr. Lushington of Glasgow! We do not think that Mr. Tennyson was exactly sketching the characteristics of the right man for such *Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk. Vol. i., pp. 187, 192, 198. work, when he wrote of Lushington thus: And thou art worthy; full of power; As gentle; liberal-minded, great, Consistent; wearing all that weight Of learning lightly like a flower. It is the old story of cutting blocks with a razor;' it is like setting the winner of the Derby to pull a dray. And so long as the work remains what it is, we believe it would be better and more cheerfully done by machinery a good deal more rough and ready. The students attending the Latin class may number about 250; but the class is taught in two separate divisions. The Greek class (which meets in three divisions) has about 300 students; when Sir Daniel Sandford was professor, it sometimes numbered 500. The Logic class has from 150 to 180 students, the Moral Philosophy, 100 to 120; the Natural Philsophy, 70 to 90. It is a curious thing to witness the beginning of a working day at Glasgow College. We must, to do so, rise at six A.M. in a dark winter morning; for if we live in the habitable part of the town, we have a walk of half-an-hour to get over before the classes meet. Through darkness and sleet we make our way to the College, which we reach, say at twenty minutes past seven A.M. A crowd of students, old and young, wrapped in the red mantles, shivering and sleepy, is pouring in at the low archway already mentioned. The lights shining through the little windows point out the class rooms which are now to be occupied. At the door of each stands an unshaven servant, in whose vicinity a fragrance as of whisky pervades the air. The servants are always shabby and generally dirty; not unfrequently drunk. They wear no livery of any kind. By long intercourse with many generations of students, they have acquired the power of receiving and returning any amount of chaff.' At length a miserable tinkling is heard from the steeple; the students pour into the class-rooms, and arrange themselves in benches, like the pews of a church. A low pulpit is occupied by the professor. The business of the day is commenced by a short prayer the opening prayers of Mr. Bucha nan, the Professor of Logic, are marvels of beauty. After prayer, a student, placed in a subsidiary pulpit, calls over the names of the students, who severally signify their presence by saying Adsum. The work of the class then goes on till the hour is finished. An hour is the invariable period for which the class remains. The Latin and Greek classes meet at the early hour we have mentioned; and, strange to say, it is at this unseasonable time that the eloquent Professor of Moral Philosophy lectures. It is a remarkable proof of his power, that he is able to touch and excite such a wretchedly cold and sleepy auditory. The applause which generally attends his lectures, makes the houses nearest his class-room the least desirable in the professor's court. At half-past eight many of the classes are in operation-as the Latin, Greek, Logic, Natural Philosophy, and Theology. Though it is always an effort to be at College at hours so early, still the arrangement soon comes to be liked by both professors and students. By half-past nine the hardest of the day's work is over; and thus these early morning hours, which otherwise would probably be turned to little account, save the more valuable hours of the morning and afternoon. Each of the Philosophy Classes meets two hours a day. The morning hour is occupied by a lecture; and an hour later in the day is given to the examination of the students on the lectures they have heard, and to hearing them read essays on the subjects under consideration. Thus Scotch students have the pen in their hand from the very commencement of their course; and the same system is kept up to the close of even the long course of eight years for the church. A very large proportion of young men thus acquire no inconsiderable command of that noble instrument, the English language; which is very seldom written with ease and accuracy, except as the result of long-continued practice. The lectures read are verbatim the same, session after session, so that a Scotch Professor of Philosophy, with his two hours a day of work, and his six months' holiday in the pleasantest part of the year, has (once |