THE YALE LITERARY MAGAZINE.-Conducted by the Students of Yale University. This Magazine established February, 1836, is the oldest college periodical in America; entering upon its Fifty-ninth Volume with the number for October, 1893. It is published by a board of Editors, annually chosen from each successive Senior Class. It thus may be fairly said to represent in its general articles the average literary culture of the university. In the Notabilia college topics are thoroughly discussed, and in the Memorabilia it is intended to make a complete record of the current events of college life; while in the Book Notices and Editors' Table, contemporary publications and exchanges receive careful attention.

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year.

The Magazine is issued on the 15th day of each month from October to June, inclusive; nine numbers form the annual volume, comprising at least 360 pages. The price is $3.00 per volume, 35 cents per single number. All subscriptions must be paid in advance, directly to the Editors, who alone can give receipts therefor. Upon the day of publication the Magazine is promptly mailed to all subscribers. Single numbers are on sale at the Coöperative Store. Back numbers and volumes can be obtained from the Editors.

A limited number of advertisements will be inserted. The character and large circulation of the Magazine render it a desirable medium for all who would like to secure the patronage of Yale students.

All communications, with regard to the editorial management of the periodical, must be addressed to the EDITORS OF THE VALE LITERARY MAGAZINE, New Haven, Conn.

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ANOTHER POINT OF VIEW.

HE drift of the age is more and more to extreme specialization. So great is the pressure of competition that the one who would succeed must bend himself all towards one end, be willing wholly to merge himself in his work, even to the warping of his character and the distortion of his intellectual focus. The business man grows into a machine for amassing dollars, the lawyer for arguing cases, the doctor for diagnosing symptoms. The scientist, from devoting his life to a limited range of facts and generalizations, mummifies the emotional side of his nature until he becomes as shrivelled as his own mouldy specimens. Darwin lamented "that his enjoyment of music had become dulled with age." The tremendous array of facts with which he spent his life crushed out his æsthetic nature.

The struggle against environment has been hard in America. The greater part of the two and a half centuries of our existence has been spent in clearing forests and opening up the virgin resources of the country. Undoubtedly it is a glittering achievement to found towns, perform seem

ingly impossible feats of railroad engineering, amass colossal fortunes, but there is something worth cultivating besides practical driving power. The blight of utilitarianism shows clear in our art and architecture as expressions of the national turn of mind. The late Professor McLaughlin despaired of teaching his classes æsthetics. Such a statement needs no comment. Charles Eliot Norton refused to lecture on Gothic architecture in the class-room allotted him. His teaching was antidoted by the pernicious silent influence of the college building. As a race, Americans do not look for beauty, nor embody it overmuch in their creations. The beauty must first be in us, for "light, skies, and mountains are but the painted vicissitudes of the soul." Yet to see rightly we must see this beauty which is here about us. In failing to appreciate it we altogether miss an entire side of our lives, and any adequate interpretation of the world around us. The smallest things, the greatest, are clad alike in the divine raiment, for beauty is as real as gold. The little leaf-like sand rills formed after a rain storm on the side of a railroad embankment were beautiful to Thoreau, because he read into them something of their universal significance. Things are beautiful in their meanings, not for themselves. We need to be taught, not only how to see, but how to interpret. Herein lies the immense value of literature and art. After all, whether we will or no, we must value things somewhat for their beauty. Why not prize the right things? Let the criteria be as correct as possible. The chief difference between the cultivated man and the savage lies in the fact that the standards of one are so much higher than those of the other. What does an Australian bushman care for a radiant sunset in all its flooding glory of color, or a native of Mashonaland for a Limoge enamel?

Intelligent criticism is what this country now most needs. The chief function of the critic is to point out unpopular truths. As a people, we are altogether too well pleased with our own size and success to waste time in looking for shortcomings. There is too much stress on