courage. No one of us studies philology according to Wolf's careful system, but most of our philologists are acquainted with all the subdivisions to a greater or less degree. Textual criticism has never found favor in this country; few scholars have had any training in it; but work has been done in comparative philology and grammar, in exegesis and lexicography, that has won us honor abroad. The time has gone by in which it was necessary to interpret the "Cambridge " of a title-page as "Cambridge, England." There is little encouragement among us for exhaustive work in philology. Of course the labor is its own reward to a great extent, but a man may work for years and hardly earn his living and then if he is successful in gaining one of our few prizes and he cannot get them for scholarship alone - the pecuniary reward is not at all commensurate with his labors. The German philologue can manufacture a book every six months or so, which he takes care shall fall under the notice of the proper official of State. The higher prizes are within his reach if he has brains and is willing to work; and wherever he may be, as under-teacher or professor, there is a pension awaiting him in his old age. Is not this, after all, the great incentive of German scholarship, and in America must not philology pay better before there is much improvement?

FROM

THE VALUE OF AN EDUCATION.

ROM the close of the war" [1812] "to the end of his life, a period of sixteen years, Girard pursued the even tenor of his way, as keen and steady in the pursuit of wealth, and as careful in preserving it, as though his fortune were still insecure. Why was this? We should answer the question thus: Because his defective education left him no other resource. We frequently hear the 'success' of such men as Astor and Girard adduced as evidence of the uselessness of early education. On the contrary, it is precisely such men who prove its necessity; since when they have conquered fortune they know not how to avail themselves of its advantages. When Franklin had, at the age of forty-two, won a moderate competence, he could turn from business to science. and from science to the public service. Strong-minded but unlettered men, like Girard, who cannot be idle, must needs plod on to the end." - PARTON: "Famous Men of Recent Times," p. 230.

ADDRESS OF EMERSON E. WHITE, LL.D.,

SUPERINTENDENT OF THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS, CINCINNATI, OHIO, BEFORE THE SCHOOLMASTERS' CLUB, BOSTON, OCTOBER 29, 1887.

MR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN,- Please accept my hearty thanks for the very great honor conferred by the invitation to be the guest of the Schoolmasters' Club of Massachusetts on this occasion. The fact that every invited visitor to Boston is expected to make a speech, at first caused me no little embarrassment; but the situation was soon relieved by the kind assurance of the officers of the club that a formal and elaborate address would not be expected. It seems proper to add that it seemed well to defer all consideration of what ought to be said in this presence until I had come into the educational atmosphere of New England, hoping that I might therefrom absorb a few thoughts that could be expressed with the full concurrence of my hearers, and I trust that this may now be my good fortune.

Some aspects of current educational discussion seem to indicate that not a few minds are dazzled, if not dazed, by the brilliancy of our material civilization. The marvelous progress in discovery and invention within the past thirty years, and the consequent multiplication of the forms and applications of human skill and industry are, indeed, bewildering. The material products of these various forms of effort are also so tangible, so sensuous and impressive, that they assume the importance of ends of human existence.

Indeed, under this influence and dominancy of material forces and enterprises, a new definition of man is being evolved. Man is a creature whose chief end is to invent and manufacture material products. The suspicion becomes increasingly strong that man's supreme mission is to fit up the world not only for posterity, but for some coming race of beings worthy of its best ministry.

As a result of this bewilderment, there is in many minds a strange confusion of ends and means. The old opinion that man eats to live is inverting its terms, and the seeming truth is that man lives to eat. The Garden of Eden was created, as we read, for the first pair, but the suspicion grows that they were created for the garden, and especially to till and dress it. The

curse pronounced on Adam that in the sweat of the face he should eat bread is seeming to be the very end for which man was created, and when this sweating for bread is over, his mission will be ended!

In the face of this dazzling materialism, I wish to hold up man himself as the supreme earthly fact. Material civilization is only a means to his perfection and well-being. These humming manufactories, this steam-pulsed and steam-winged commerce, these iron highways belting the continents, the metal nerves of the lightning that net-work the land and traverse the ocean's depths, pulsating with earth's acted history, are all but agencies for man's progress and welfare. Even civilization itself borrows its value and its significance from man, by whom and for whom it exists. Even human government is but a means for his protection and nurture. Constitutions and laws, executives and courts, commerce and art, are for man man created only a little lower than the angels and crowned with glory and honor. Man is above all human enterprises, all human institutions, at once their end and purpose and glory.

Do you ask: "What has all this to do with the topic under discussion?" I answer: "Much, every way." If man be the supreme earthly fact, the end of all civilization, it follows that the chief, the central concern of education is to make the most and best possible of man. The central, guiding, determining aim of the school must be manhood, and this is the one product that may be demanded of the public school.

The more careful students of educational progress have noted the fact that much that seems new in education is only a fresh expression of very old truths, and many of the catch-words of reform are only new labels on old ideas. One of the new maxims in education is the sending of the whole boy to school. (Perhaps it is the entire boy or all of the boy, for I have not yet used it enough to be certain when on my feet.) The claim of this maxim to newness is based on the assumption that hitherto some part of the boy has been left at home. Those of us who have had the training of boys in past years were, I am sure, not aware of the fact that the entire boy was not present. There was certainly enough of him on hand for all practical purposes! But while I like this new maxim, I think I can suggest a better, and that is the sending of the coming man to school. The essential duty of

the teacher is to see in every boy that crosses the threshold of the school a coming man not an artisan, not a merchant, not a soldier, but comprehensively and supremely a man. This coming man is to be more than a workman; he is to be the head of the family, a member of society, a citizen of the State, a subject of divine government, and out of these relations will flow duties and obligations of the highest importance. The boy may be in manhood a hewer of wood, but if his life answers manhood's great end, he must also be a hewer of wrong. The engineer must be swifter than his engine, the plowman wider and deeper than his furrow, and the merchant longer than his yardstick.

I have only time to add that what the coming man most needs is that the embryo powers of the child be developed and trained, the powers to know, to feel, to will, to enjoy, - powers of mind and heart; and all this culture must recognize one central law of all spiritual growth. Every normal activity of the soul leaves as its abiding result an increased power to act in like manner and a tendency to act again. Power and tendency are the resultants of all human activity. Manhood is the resultant of the past experiences of the soul. Hence whatever power and skill manhood most imperatively demands must be secured by right activity and training in childhood and youth, and this may reasonably be asked of the public schools. This is the common, the universal need of man as man. To be a little more specific, the elementary schools may be held to the duty of cultivating power and skill in the seven fundamental arts of the school-reading, language (oral and written), numbers, writing, drawing, music, and behavior, and the greatest of these is behavior. The central aim of the school is the perfection of manhood, and the central fact of manhood is character. A noble and self-centered character is the one imperative and central aim of all right school-training.

But the school must not only seek to train manhood-power; it must also teach fundamental knowledge, not the knowledge of special pursuits or callings, but knowledge of general application and utility. The prime question here is, What is the knowledge that man as man needs for growth, for guidance, for enjoyment?

I cannot here enter upon the discussion of the question of methods. It must suffice to say that education as an art is based on the nature of the child, and its chief aim must be to unfold, to train, and to enrich the child's spiritual nature. The mind

must be trained to know the truth, the heart to enjoy it, and the will to purpose it.

The time has come when training for manhood needs to be set forth anew as the primary and comprehensive function of the common school. Whatever else may be attempted, this training must not be sacrificed or left undone.

THE

HE following incident occurred at Cambridge, and is related by Samuel Longfellow in his "Final Memorials" of his brother, the poet:

I saw a boy beside a poet's gate

Coaxing from wheezy pipes a doleful strain,
And seeming some kind answer to await:

"Ah, boy!" I said, "your discord is in vain."

I saw a poet a window open wide,

And smile, and toss down pennies to the boy;
The great sun pushed the April clouds aside,
A tiny bird looked up and sang for joy.

Poet of all time! Beggar of to-day!

For me, unseen, this benison you leave,

In God's great world there is no lonely way.

Humblest and highest may give and may receive.1

1 It was on one such occasion that Longfellow said to his companion: "I always like to pay the musicians; they have to work hard." And smiling, added: "Did you ever carry a burden on your back?"