At the formal inauguration ceremony President Atwood announced—doubtless with a sly wink at Mr. Thurber on the platform—that he was going to make Clark University the great center of American geographic and physiographic education. Now I have no desire to deny the importance of these subjects; they are interesting specialties and have their place; but when some one sets out to raise them into major sciences, we may be sure that we are dealing with a buncombe artist, and may look with certainty for commercial motives. In the Clark University bulletin we find the commercial ideal set forth in the plainest possible language: “Many of the universities and colleges of this country are now calling for trained geographers. Commissioners of education, normal schools, and high schools are looking for men or women who can serve as supervisors or as special teachers of geography. The large financial houses are endeavoring to train men in commercial geography in their own schools. The departments of the government are now using trained geographers, and the Civil Service Commission has recently recognized the profession of geography”—etc., etc. Under President Atwood’s regime the graduate work in mathematics and biology has ceased. The two best psychologists are gone, and the department has declined to nothing. The department of chemistry is undermanned and woefully deficient in equipment. History and the social sciences are even worse off, and no adequate work in government is offered, in spite of the fact that the will of the founder specifies the preparing of useful citizens as the first task of the university. Instead of that—we have geography! There is an independent “Graduate School of Geography,” free from faculty control and headed by President Atwood himself, with a professor of meteorology and climatology, and a lecturer in anthropogeography—delicious mouthful for schoolmarms to take home to Main Street!—also four other professors and lecturers, and four more listed as “offering closely related work.” There are twenty-one courses in this Graduate School, and a “special series” of six lectures, besides a program of anti-Bolshevik propaganda, described as a “Conference on Russian Affairs,” with five lecturers, including Mr. A. J. Sack, ex-chief of Ambassador Bakmetieff’s lie-factory! In addition to this, there is the Summer School, with only one course in psychology, and only two in education, and only two in social science—but with twelve in geography! And worse yet, there is to be a “Correspondence School,” with endless courses in the Frye-Atwood geographies, for rural school and grade teachers, with the horrified and agonized faculty of the university compelled to give university credits for this commercial work!