Snodkins and I take "Polly Kon" together. Snodkins' seat is just in front of mine, so that I get a very good view of Snodkins' back, as well as of the back of his note-book. The other day I thought I would watch Snodkins and discover, if I could, his method of taking notes. He came in just in time to be marked absent by the instructor, spent some very precious moments in getting off his coat, and arranging himself generally, but was at last, I thought, ready to go to work. But not yet. What good are introductions? Snodkins listens to them attentively, that is, he has his eyes firmly fixed on the lecturer, a scrutiny which he keeps up for fully twenty minutes. At last, however, a point has been made that to Snodkins' mind is really worth taking down. Slowly the note-book is placed open on the table, a pencil is drawn out, and work is begun. I watch my friend closely; he works slowly, but deliberately, and soon, raising myself a little, I see, not a page of carefully written notes, but a wonderfully life-like portrait of the "man in the box," mouth open and hand raised. It is indeed a wonderful picture! In it I read pages; it not only presents the lecturer himself, but adds as well all the magnetic power of the lecturer. Herein is a great advantage, for Snodkins can, in his own room, commune with his instructor. How are written notes to be compared with this almost living lecturer! The sketch will speak to Snodkins just as one of the paintings of the old masters speaks to the world.

A few days later I take the pains to borrow Snodkins' note-book, and study well the pages between the hard-worn covers. First, I am pleased to find some writing, "Hollis Holworthy Snodkins, '85, 57 Mattworthy, Camoridge, Mass.," all of which doesn't seem to me to be very important, until I have discovered it repeated on most of the subsequent pages. At times it is mostly "Snodkins, '85," a phrase terse, but so full of meaning! Or, again it is "Snodkins, '85," with, conspicuously near, a reference to "p. 199," or "p. 299." I look up the first reference, and find that it relates to the Chinese in America, from which circumstance I have to draw too obvious conclusions about my friend's nationality. The portraits of the great lecturer are almost without number, representing him in every conceivable position. They are all dated, I suppose to give individuality to the different ones. Each sketch, I conclude, represents the ideas of a certain lecture given, say, No. 24, or No. 26. The affixing of the dates, then, to the portraits is really a "great scheme." In this note-book of Snodkins we find also sketches of almost everything else in the room, of busts, desks, and students. Occasionally there is a scene from last night's play, doubtless one of Snodkins' notes on unproductive consumption.

After I have reviewed the book with considerable care, I ask myself what must be the theory on which my friend Snodkins has worked. Here are his notes,- but how do they disclose the principles of Political Economy? The subject itself is not touched upon, but nevertheless I feel in a distinctly political-economical mood; I am led to think of Mill, Cairnes, Walker and Richards, and of their overpowering ideas. But how? At last I find an explanation; I am forced to a realization of the power of the association of abstract ideas and principles with physical, that is, tangible surroundings. The success, then, of Snodkins' method of taking notes is due only to this power of association.