But, after all, ups and downs of this kind are more or less accidents which can at best only accelerate a little or somewhat retard the inevitable outcome of a wasteful policy. If our land is but half tilled, if hurtful social laws both hinder its higher tillage and overburden the tiller with unbearable charges so that he is handicapped in the competition with the most distant countries, nothing can, I believe, save us from ultimate impoverishment, no matter what our industry as weavers and spinners, miners and metal workers may in the meantime be.

The only safeguard which we at present have lies not so much in our trade supremacy as in the fact that we can lay nearly every nation on the earth under tribute to us. If we could continue to do this for an indefinite period and to an indefinitely great extent just at our pleasure, there might be little to alarm us in the present position of affairs. But we cannot do so, and every step which other countries take in calling home their debt to us, or in repudiating it, places us more and more under the necessity of becoming, as it were, payers of tribute if we are to live. Înstead of having the resources of the world at our command, we are driven to beg the world to be so very kind as to buy enough of our wares to prevent us from starving. Who shall declare what a reversal of the position such as

this implies may bring us to, or how far it may tend to strain the national resources and sap the material strength of the empire?

This general consideration has appeared to me more important than the mere discussion of our chances as traders, because here lies the true danger of our unprecedented dependence on foreign bread and meat. That dependence ought by all means to be diminished if we are to continue at the head of the nations; and no matter how cheaply we may seem to buy, if we neglect the development of our own soil for the fleeting gains of a kind of trade which has flitted from point to point since the world began, never settling long anywhere, assuredly the day must come when we must face poverty, and be, so to say, driven to beg for bread.

A conclusion to our history like this is probably at worst very remote, but it is with the drift and tendency of things we have to do, and if the signs are that we are in any degree going towards ruin, no matter though the ruin may not come in sight within a hundred years, we ought to set about mending our ways. Unthrift and waste in any direction is unspeakably expensive, and unthrift in the treatment of the soil is sooner or later positive destruction to a nation.

A. J. WILSON.

Da mihi, Domine, scire quod sciendum est-"Grant that the knowledge I get may be the knowledge which is worth having!"-the spirit of that prayer ought to rule our education. How little it does rule it, every discerning man will acknowledge. Life is short,

and our faculties of attention and of recollection are limited; in education we proceed as if our life were endless, and our powers of attention and recollection inexhaustible. We have not time or strength to deal with half of the matters which are thrown upon our minds, and they prove a useless load to us. When some one talked to Themistocles of an art of memory, he answered: "Teach me rather to forget!" The sarcasm well criticises the fatal want of proportion between what we put into our minds and their real needs and powers.

From the time when first I was led to think about education, this want of proportion is what has most struck me. It is the great obstacle to progress, yet it is by no means remarked and contended against as it should be. It hardly begins to present itself until we pass beyond the strict elements of education-beyond the acquisition, I mean, of reading, of writing, and of calculating so far as the operations of common life require. But the moment we pass beyond these, it begins to appear. Languages, grammar, literature, history, geography, mathematics, the knowledge of nature-what of these is to be taught, how much, and how There is no clear, well-grounded consent. The same with religion. Religion is surely to be taught, but what of it is to be taught, and how? A clear, well-grounded consent is again wanting. And taught in such fashion as things are now, how often must a candid and sensible man, if he could be offered an art of memory to secure

all that he has learned of them, as to a very great deal of it be inclined to say with Themistocles : "Teach me rather to forget!"

:

In England the common notion seems to be that education is advanced in two ways principally by for ever adding fresh matters of instruction, and by preventing uniformity. I should be inclined to prescribe just the opposite course; to prescribe a severe limitation of the number of matters taught, a severe uniformity in the line of study followed. Wide ranging, and the multiplication of matters to be investigated, belong to private study, to the development of special aptitudes in the individual learner, and to the demands which they raise in him. But separate from all this should be kept the broad plain lines of study for almost universal use. I say almost universal, because they must of necessity vary a little with the varying conditions of men. Whatever the pupil finds set out for him upon these lines, he should learn; therefore it ought not to be too much in quantity. The essential thing is that it should be well chosen. once we can get it well chosen, the more uniformly it can be kept to, the better. The teacher will be more at home; and besides, when we have got what is good and suitable, there is small hope of gain, and great certainty of risk, in departing from it.

If

No such lines are laid out, and perhaps no one could be trusted to lay them out authoritatively. But to amuse oneself with laying them out in fancy is a good exercise for one's thoughts. One may lay them out for this or that description of pupil, in this or that branch of study. The wider the interest of the branch of study taken, and the more extensive the class of pupils concerned, the

better for our purpose. Suppose we take the department of letters. It is interesting to lay out in one's mind the ideal line of study to be followed by all who have to learn Latin and Greek. But it is still more interesting to lay out the ideal line of study to be followed by all who are concerned with that body of literature which exists in English, because this class is so much more numerous amongst us. The thing would be, one imagines, to begin with a very brief introductory sketch of our subject; then to fix a certain series of works to serve as what the French, taking an expression from the builder's business, call points de repère-points which stand as so many natural centres, and by returning to which we can always find our way again, if we are embarrassed; finally, to mark out a number of illustrative and representa tive works, connecting themselves with each of these points de repère. In the introductory sketch we are amongst generalities, in the group of illustrative works we are amongst details; generalities and details have, both of them, their perils for the learner. It is evident that, for purposes of education, the most important parts by far in our scheme are what we call the points de repère. To get these rightly chosen and thoroughly known is the great matter. For my part, in thinking of this or that line of study which human minds follow, I feel always prompted to seek, first and foremost, the leading points de repère in it.

In the

In editing for the use of the young the group of chapters which are now commonly distinguished as those of the Babylonian Isaiah, I drew attention to their remarkable fitness for serving as a point of this kind to the student of universal history. But a work which by many is regarded as simply and solely a document of religion, there is difficulty, perhaps, in employing for historical and literary purposes. With works of a secular character one is on safer ground. And for years past, whenever I have had occasion to use Johnson's Lives of the

Poets, the thought has struck me how admirable a point de repère, or fixed centre of the sort described above, these lives might be made to furnish for the student of English literature. If we could but take, I have said to myself, the most important of the lives in Johnson's volumes, and leave out all the rest, what a text-book we should have! The volumes at present are a work to stand in a library, “a work which no gentleman's library should be without." But we want to get from them a text-book, to be in the hands of every one who desires even so much as a general acquaintance with English literature ;-and so much acquaintance as this who does not desire? The work as Johnson published it is not fitted to serve as such a text-book; it is too extensive, and contains the lives of many poets quite insignificant. Johnson supplied lives of all whom the booksellers proposed to include in their collection of British Poets; he did not choose the poets himself, although he added two or three to those chosen by the booksellers. Whatever Johnson did in the department of literary biography and criticism possesses interest and deserves our attention. But in his Lives of the Poets there are six of pre-eminent interest; the lives of six men who, while the rest in the collection are of inferior rank, stand out as names of the first class in English literature-Milton, Dryden, Swift, Addison, Pope, Gray. These six writers differ among themselves, of course, in power and importance, and every one can see, that, if we were following certain modes of literary classification, Milton would have to be placed on a solitary eminence far above any of them. But if, without seeking a close view of individual differences, we form a large and liberal first class among English writers, all these six personages-Milton, Dryden, Swift, Addison, Pope, Gray-must, I think, be placed in it. Their lives cover a space of more than a century and a half, from 1608, the year of Milton's birth, down to 1771, the date of the death of Gray. Through this space