When the twentieth century ushered in the State Secondary School its fond foster-parents, gazing with delight on their new pet, gave it the only food they knew, an old-fashioned type of mixed classical and mathematical biscuits. The puppy was just getting its teeth into this when a friend dropping in, himself a bit of an expert, forthwith pronounced the food too hard and dry, and substituted a coloured and powerfully smelling preparation based on a scientific formula. The bewildered hound then transferred his attention to this. Soon, however, History came knocking at the door and placed before the dog what was pronounced to be the only real canine diet, a large meaty bone. When again a dish of Economics was offered, the pup leapt playfully towards this, disregarding the French, German, and Spanish recipes which had meanwhile been used to tempt the pampered pet. Before long all available floor space had been used up with an assortment of pabula varia, the dog drifting hopelessly from one plate to another in a vain effort to appease all the dog-fanciers. Now the owners are gazing with concern at the resultant dog. What promised to be a magnificent specimen, the pride of all Crafts, is but a sickly cur, and a martyr to chronic belly-ache.

A state of affairs has in fact been reached which must not and cannot last. Among the manifold changes that seem to be imminent, a reform of the Secondary School curriculum is overdue. If nothing else, then Mr. Butler's Act will render such changes necessary.