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34 and walked to the professor's desk. The latter glanced up from his book, and turned the paper about so as to read the signature. It read Newton Wilberforce Hart, Oakland, Nebraska.

Mr. Congreve, who had been drawing a picture of a yacht on the arm of the seat, grew nervous; several more candidates had gone out of the room. He glanced at the questions again. To his delight Simeon Tolker remembered having once had the next problem given him at St. Paul's. He wrote Q.E.D. a little bit larger and, if anything, more distinctly than before; and now there seemed to be an epidemic of finishing; figure after figure left their seats and the pile of little white pamphlets on the professor's desk grew taller and taller.

Soon only a dozen or so were left and there was but one problem for Mr. Congreve to answer. A short thick-set youth with eyeglasses was drumming on his teeth with the end of his lead pencil. As he caught Congreve's eye, he winked and shook his head hopelessly; at last, however, he dashed his name on the paper with a flourish, yawned extravagantly, and sauntered slowly down the aisle. Congreve was