of the "distribution solennelle des prix," as it is called, with lists of the prize-winners. In the provinces especially the occasion is regarded as of vastly more importance than are our school-examinations in America. "Examinations" such as ours, a "cram" of classes for a mechanical display, is not a habit of French schools, being considered no real test of scholarship. The French republic is young in the work of educating its children, but is putting its strength to the undertaking with a deep sense of its dignity and importance.
In the centre of the stage was a large table, upon which were ranged the prizes,—all books, in various styles of binding, each stamped in gold letters with the name and device of the college. How many glistening eyes were fixed upon those tempting piles! how many young hearts beat with hopes that were as yet only hopes!—a pupil never feeling quite sure of his prize until his name is called.
After the introductory music, an address was delivered by the professor whose year it was to address the prize-winners. This professor was a small, dark man, whose olive skin and excitable, nervous manner would have revealed his origin in the south of France, near the mountains and olives of Spain, even if the rolling accents of his perfect French had not. Among other good things in his address was the remark that he would be like the slaves who, in Roman triumphs, rode behind the conqueror in his chariot to whisper, amid universal plaudits, "Remember, you are but man!" and would remind the successful pupils before him that they were but strivers to whom, in the course of their striving, had come one little triumph; but, etc., etc.
After this address came one from the mayor. This gentleman read his address, which was interspersed with complimentary remarks on the principal and his corps of professors; and one curious feature to us was the flourish of truly French courtesy with which each one, as reference was made to him, rose from his seat, advanced, and shook hands with the orator! Following this address came more music from the band. Then came the real business of the day. There was a rustling all through the house; everybody seemed to bend a trifle forward; pallors and flushes came upon young faces.
So much interest is felt in general education in France that frequently additions are made to the usual prizes by gentlemen who have the advancement of a certain branch of knowledge at heart. Thus bequests are often made for the establishment of annual prizes for a certain class in science, so that often the winner gains a prize extremely valuable in itself aside from its honor. Upon this occasion the first name called was that of a youth of eighteen, the winner of an "outside" prize in Greek, of so many volumes that he descended from the stage his arms piled so high that his face was almost hidden. Before he reached his seat his name was again called as winner of his class-prize for mathematics. The manner of prize-giving is very simple, the winner merely ascending the stage to receive his award from the hands of the maire or one of the conseillers municipaux. A prize is given for each study in each class, so that a student may work for as many prizes as he chooses,—for the history prize, the mathematical, Latin, Greek, etc. By a method of marking each lesson at its proper value of marks with each recitation, the natural bias of each young mind becomes easily apparent. A pupil sometimes goes on taking the same prize for the same studies, as he rises through class after class, year after year, thus prophesying unmistakably to all who watch his career the direction of his larger one in the world.
One would have to be present at one of these distributions solennelles des prix to realize how vitally the audience enters into the interest of it. Every time a name was called which had been called once or twice before, loud applause sounded through the theatre, as if these young prize-winners were favorite gladiators in an old Roman arena. We had not forgotten our young countryman
