THERE are pleasures in a Bowdoin prize. It gives the winner grandeur in the eyes of Freshmen, and a wonderful reputation among his maiden aunts and country cousins; and the money in these hard times is decidedly convenient in making one's cash account balance with remittances from home.

Each summer, then, shows half a dozen aspirants at the Library poring over huge, dusty volumes in the sultry Cambridge heat. They are very mysterious about their work, and never acknowledge the faintest intentions of writing a Bowdoin dissertation; but they always inquire eagerly, "Are many going to write this year, and who do you think the examiners will be?" In midsummer they disappear, bury themselves in some hole for the rest of the vacation, and bring back in September a pile of drearily learned manuscript, the result of the summer's grind.

This method of writing a dissertation is so slow and painful, that no one who values his vacation will adopt it. A moment's reflection shows that the result is not proportionate to the labor, and that there must be an easier and equally sure way of gaining a prize. I think, in fact I feel sure, that I have discovered such a way; and, since I wish to advance the cause of literature at Harvard, I am willing to make it known. It cannot fail to give satisfaction, for it is the result of a careful psychological study of the involuntary workings of an examiner's mind, and brings into due prominence certain details usually neglected but in reality all-important.

Suppose, then, that you have determined to try for a prize. Don't be at all bashful about proclaiming this fact, for you will gain some reputation in an easy way, and you may, perhaps, scare away a rival or two. First of all, carefully choose an interesting subject, one that any examiner can enjoy. Heaven knows that all the subjects are dull enough; but such a one as "The Measurement of Molecular Magnitudes," despite its alluring alliteration, is enough in itself to insure failure.

All that you need do in vacation is to read a few novels, and to start a flow of language by delivering a Fourth-of-July oration, or an address at a Sunday-school picnic. In the future, however, English VI. will render even this unnecessary.

The first week or two at the beginning of the year is always a time of leisure. No one pretends to study, for in an elective system, as in a horse-race at a county fair, no one takes the course until after a dozen false starts. This is the time, as the college almanac says, to get in your early Bowdoin dissertations. Take a quire of the best letter-paper, and rule off a wide inch of the margin. Write with the blackest of ink very plainly, and give special attention to punctuation. A piece without other points is often saved by punctuation.

Now, for a beginning of the dissertation pick out a brilliant passage from your Sophomore themes. This will attract attention; and if it seem abrupt, the objection against abrupt beginnings is not well founded. [See Hill's Rhet., Book II. Chap. VI.] A similar quotation somewhat longer and, if possible, more brilliant will make a good conclusion. The intervening part, the body of the dissertation, should be carefully arranged, and have several marked divisions. Such divisions encourage the reader, for, without counting the remaining pages, he can see that he is drawing nearer the end; and they also are extremely handy when you wish to serve up an extract as a theme or forensic. Treat your subject with all possible skill, and remember that when it proves rather unmanageable, a neat allusion to the learning and taste of the reader is of great service.

Take care to choose a good pseudonyme. Emerson once won a Bowdoin prize, signing himself "A Son of New England"; but times have changed, and that would be thought shockingly provincial. Something which would hint in a noncommittal way of a gift to the College in future years would be effective. When you leave your manuscript at the secretary's office state distinctly that it is not an excuse from prayers; for several men have lost a prize through a misunderstanding on this point.

If these rules are followed, your dissertation must be successful, - provided, of course, that it is among the first eight read.

P. S. I have read this to Popkins, who is an aspirant, and he is delighted with it. He complains, however, that the hardest work is to collect material for the dissertation. I am surprised at this; the process is so simple. Take your note-book and go to the Library. Consult encyclopaedias first; if the Brittanica treats the subject, you need look no farther. Then take Poole's Index, and hunt up magazine articles. If there are any books on the subject, don't read them; but read the reviews, for a good review contains the cream of the book all ready for churning. A half-day's work of this sort will give you material enough. Don't try to be original; originality, you know, is not popular at Harvard.