It is the welfare of society, rather than that of the individual, which is sought to be promoted by a system of popular education. Every part of the social fabric should be fitted to its place, and go into place like the materials in Solomon's temple, without the sound of the hammer; yet a refined civilization cannot be attained without first securing a liberal mental culture of the masses.

Nature, as if inspired by a divine instinct, is ever engaged in refining her materials. The laws by which she works are as applicable to mind as to matter. In man we see both mind and matter combined,—two natures, the intellectual and the physical. But in order to learn what we are and what we should be, we must first understand the relations in which we are placed. In attempting to do this, we must study man as well as Nature, and advance step by step, if we would achieve the highest attainments of which we are capable.

He only is a man in the true sense whose mental, moral, and physical capacities have been fully developed. To be "twenty-one years of age and six feet high" does not of itself constitute a man. He must attain to something more than this,—he must have the head and the heart and the soul of a man. He must appreciate the true character of his position, and have the moral courage to discharge his duties,—in short, he must live for others as well as for himself, act from generous impulses, and in all he does, yield to "the divinity that stirs within him," if he would comprehend the import of his godlike destiny.

The highway to knowledge, though rugged, is equally free and open to all. Whoever will, may enter the temple of Nature, interrogate her face to face, unlock her treasures, appropriate her wealth, and subject her subtle agencies to human service. This the nineteenth century has already done to a considerable extent. Thus far it has been a bold century, and has taken many bold steps. It has "knocked holes through the blind walls" of the last ten centuries, and exposed to daylight the "moles and the bats" of antiquity; and still it demands more light. Such is the spirit of the age,—a demand for naked truth in all its beautiful proportions. Never, until this nineteenth century, have the masses really discovered their mission,—the great fact that they were created to think as well as work, and to govern as well as be governed. And yet the world may be regarded as still in its infancy; nor has the human mind, as compared with its possibilities, emerged from its cradle, or even thrown off its swaddling garments.

Though capable of sublime achievements, man at birth is not only one of the most helpless, but one of the most ignorant, specimens of animal existence. It is said by physiologists that an infant can neither smile nor shed a tear until forty days old. In his infancy the world to him is but a panorama of strange objects. In due time, however, he discovers that he has everything to learn, and needs to learn everything before he can comprehend himself or wield the power which Heaven has assigned him.

The degree of culture required to render man what he should be—godlike in his character—admits of no compromise with ignorance, superstition, or sectarianism, but on the contrary, involves the necessity of establishing and sustaining such an educational system as will be adapted to the needs of the masses, and work in accordance with the laws of matter and of mind.

It is to the masses that our country must look for her best material, and for her future intellectual giants. In every age of the world more or less great men have been produced. At a time when most needed, our own country produced a Washington, a Jefferson, and a Franklin, who distinguished themselves and the age in which they lived,—the age which gave birth to human rights. At a later period appeared a Jackson, a Clay, and a Webster,—the defenders of the Constitution and of the Union,—who have left behind them a brilliant record; but notwithstanding their conservative efforts, there came a spirit of reform, sowing dragon-teeth, which soon sprang to life and filled the land with armed heroes, who bravely met in deadly conflict and decided forever the great question of human freedom; and consequently we now have, instead of a few, a great many men of world-wide renown, who have made for themselves and for their country a proud history.

In order to preserve our liberties we must have men of large hearts and wise heads,—men who can wear the armor of giants because they are giants. In short, we must recognize the great fact that every child in the land has a God-given right to an education,—a right which no parent should be allowed to sell for "a mess of pottage." Our national watchword should be "Education;" and the system should be so constructed as to reach all classes of youth by methods not only efficient but attractive.

It will be said by some, perhaps, that it is quite impossible to educate the masses in the higher branches of learning, unless they be withdrawn from the indispensable labors of the field and the workshop, and thus be compelled to neglect the industrial pursuits on which they must depend for their physical comforts,—bread, raiment, and shelter. However plausible this objection may seem, it certainly does not afford a sufficient reason why the facilities of acquiring a good education should not be equally extended to all classes.

Manual labor and a high degree of intelligence are by no means incompatible, but on the contrary, must be associated, in order to achieve great or brilliant results. It is true, however, that the physical wants of man must first be supplied before you can proceed successfully with the cultivation of his intellectual powers. The fact is every day exemplified that bread is much easier gained by an intelligent than by an ignorant laborer. Whatever faith may do, it is certain that science and labor must be combined if we would either tunnel or "remove mountains;" and though native talent may have been distributed with more liberality to some than to others, all are under the highest obligations to improve such as they have, whether it be one talent or twenty talents.

The farmer, the mechanic, the merchant, and even the busy housewife, have more or less leisure hours,—long winter evenings, holidays, and sabbath days, amounting to nearly half a lifetime,—which might with great profit be employed in the acquisition of useful knowledge through the medium of choice books and interchange of thought. Indeed, almost every one who has received a common-school education may so improve the fragments of time which fall in his way as to acquire in the course of an ordinary lifetime a pretty thorough acquaintance with the sciences, and with general literature.

Though our leisure hours may seem too few to be worth improving, yet it is by saving pennies that we accumulate wealth. Surprising as it may seem, there are within the allotted age of man ten years of sabbaths when taken in the aggregate,—ample time, one would suppose, for perfecting, in a good degree at least, his intellectual and moral culture. If mankind were as orthodox in their actions as they profess to be in their creeds, the moral regeneration of the world would soon be accomplished. One of the most formidable barriers in the way of human advancement is the faith we have derived, not from revelation, but from the blind interpretation of it. A true theology and a sound philosophy can never come in conflict. In this enlightened age, it is absurd to expect that Science will confine her inquiries within the circumference of a circle, or so modify her annunciations of truth as to coincide with the mystical traditions which have been handed down to us from a remote antiquity.

As an encouragement to the friends of popular education, the fact should not be overlooked that the masses have been to a great extent relieved from the necessity of constant toil by the introduction of modern machinery. In fact, genius has conquered time, and given time to the masses. It has broken the fetters that bound them, and thus afforded them leisure for self-culture, social intercourse, and the investigation of truth.

It is the magic power of genius which has given life and brain to machinery, and which compels it to perform the hard work of the factory, of the workshop, of the farm, and of the household. In almost every department of industry, machinery does the hard work. It spins and weaves and knits. It saws and planes and wields the hammer. It reaps and mows and thrashes. It churns and washes and plies the needle. In fact, it does nearly everything else for us, except to breathe, eat, and digest our food. It was the inventive genius of our Northern people—the legitimate outgrowth of our common-school system—that produced, at the moment when wanted, iron-clads, monster cannon, and Greek fire, and in the sequel, saved the Union, and overawed the powers of Europe. It was these warlike inventions which secured us the elements of a lasting peace, and the respect of the civilized world.

It may be truly said that we now live longer in ten years than our ancestors did in twenty, and accomplish twenty times as much. Still it is not possible for any one man to know and do everything. Men of genius are specialties, seldom or never universalities. Hence, a diversity of talent naturally dictates a division of labor. And yet American genius, if not universal, must be acknowledged eminently inventive and practical. The Americans have made, we may venture to assert, more valuable discoveries in the last half century than all the world besides. The reason why this is so may be attributed to the operation of a physical law, in connection with the effect of a liberal system of popular education. The Americans are a mixed race, made up of all nations, and have been improved and elevated as a race by transfusion of blood, which has resulted in producing increased activity of brain, with new modes of thought and new exhibitions of intellectual power.

But notwithstanding this peculiarity of character, there still remains, as it seems to me, one great and glaring error in the prevailing system of American education. This error consists in our neglecting to develop more fully the physical man, through the instrumentalities of systematic labor combined with systematic study. In many of the German States, if not in all, the plan of educating youth is much more sensible and philosophical than in this country. There they combine daily labor with daily study; and the result is that the youth of Germany acquire vigor of body and vigor of mind at the same time. From youth to manhood they are taught to regard labor as honorable, and they feel that it is so. Hence the Germans are characterized as a race by the possession of an iron constitution, and by a mental energy which enables them to meet the stern realities of life not only with fortitude, but with a spirit that never yields to adversity. No country has ever produced a more athletic or a more enduring race than Germany; nor has any country produced finer scholars in every branch of human learning, especially in philosophy and in classical literature.

But in this country it may be difficult, perhaps impracticable, to establish an educational system of this character, to any considerable extent, for the reason that we are for the most part an agricultural people, who do not concentrate in hamlets, like the peasantry of Europe, but prefer to occupy many acres and to distribute ourselves over a vast expanse of territory,—and what is more, have a way of our own in all we do. The truth is, Young America does not like work. He prefers fine clothes and fast horses, and apes the man before he is a man. And yet he assumes to know everything, and to do everything,—except work. These peculiarities in the character of Young America seem to have been generated by the spirit of our free institutions. Whether too much freedom or too little freedom is the greater evil, presents a grave question. Whatever may be the cause, it is evident that we as a people are degenerating into a nation of speculators.

Almost every man nowadays seeks to acquire wealth by some grand speculation,—by some other means than by the honest "sweat of his brow." Even mental acquisitions are often sought as a means of speculation,—as a means of living without work; and hence we see the learned professions crowded to overflowing. Go into the main streets of our cities and villages, and you will see the fronts of nearly all the buildings on either side of the way shingled over with the signs of lawyers and doctors, who in the estimation of the populace lead lives of little work and great dignity. Doubtless a foreigner, with such an exhibition before his eyes, would think us a nation of lawyers and doctors, living on the misfortunes of each other; nor would his conclusion be very wide of the mark.

Nor can it be doubted that there are thousands in the clerical profession who, if they do not subsist on each other, subsist in a "mysterious way" on salaries entirely inadequate to their support. It would seem that the supply of professional men in this country exceeds the demand. For this there may be no remedy. Yet a step in the right direction should be taken by advancing the standard of professional attainments so as to exclude mediocrity and shallow pretence from registration on the "roll of honor." Wide as the world is, it has no room for idlers or pretenders.

This over-supply of professional men not only indicates a false estimate of what really constitutes a true manhood, but clearly proves that in American education and in American public sentiment there are prevalent errors which are inconsistent with the welfare of man and the democratic character of our institutions. These errors can be corrected only through the influence of a well-directed course of popular education; but nothing is more difficult than the correction of popular errors. It is a task the reformer often attempts, but seldom accomplishes. In most cases it must be a work of time, perhaps of ages. In every school there should be a regular system of physical as well as mental exercises established. Health and strength of body are pre-requisites to health and strength of mind.

In most of our colleges and boarding-schools the physical development of the pupil receives but little attention; and consequently he is enfeebled in body if not in mind, and is then sent out into the world to endure its hardships without the physical ability to take care of himself. All this is radically wrong, and calls loudly for reform. An exclusive culture of the mental powers can never produce a strong man or woman. This fact is painfully illustrated in all our large towns and cities. The kind of education, therefore, which attempts to refine our young men and young ladies by giving them an artificial nature too delicate to endure soiled hands will never do. The coarse as well as the fine work of practical life must be done by somebody. Though some may be too proud, none are too good to work, however elevated may be their social position. There is really nothing in our daily routine of duty—in the coarse work of the world—from which an enlightened mind should shrink.

It is to be hoped the time will soon come when all our public schools, colleges, and universities will have their workshops and gardens, affording the necessary facilities for instructing our youth, male and female, in some industrial art or trade, as well as in books, and thus give them a relish for labor, and the physical ability to endure it.

If such a method were adopted, the women of our country would soon become practically fitted to compete with the men in many, if not all, the channels of a business life. If it be true that the women have been deprived of their rights, it is certainly not the fault of the men, but a fault of education,—a radical error which should be remedied. If parents will not apply the remedy in the early education of their daughters, then there is no relief. Let a course of education make it as fashionable for a woman to pursue some industrial art or trade as it is to be a lily that neither "toils nor spins," and you would soon see American women not only capable of taking care of themselves, but more generally solicited than they now are to assume the endearing cares of their appropriate sphere.

The true mission of woman is divine. To her belongs the post of honor,—that of a wife and mother,—a position which she prefers to occupy when yielding to the impulses of her nature. In educating her, therefore, this great fact should be kept in view. There is no knowledge she needs more than a correct knowledge of human character. This she can only acquire by coming in contact with the world as it is, in childhood as well as in womanhood; in the public school as well as in the social circle. The old puritanic idea that the sexes must be schooled separately in order to secure them from exposure to moral dangers, seems to me not only erroneous, but absurd. The public school, when made up of both sexes, is in fact an epitome of the world, where its good and its evil are seen, and where the child should be taught to accept the good and reject the evil under the guidance of correct moral principles. It is in a pure home influence, however, that a primary education should begin. Indeed, mothers must take the initiatory step in giving to youthful impulse the right direction.

But in order to appreciate the full import of their duties and responsibilities, mothers themselves must first be properly educated. Where, then, is this all-important work to be commenced? Where can it be commenced, except in our common schools? It is in the common schools only that the masses can be educated. It is to the common schools only that we can look for the proper education of the future fathers and mothers of the land, and for the correction of popular errors. It is to this class of schools, more than to any other, that we must look for our future patriots and scholars, statesmen and philosophers, and last, not least, for our future school-teachers.

The mission of a school-teacher is truly a mission of divine import. It is the school-teacher who moulds the youthful mind, and converts it into a casket of gems; it is the school-teacher who gives direction to budding thought, and awakens in the soul of youth the slumbering fires of genius,—in short, it is the school-teacher who lays the broad foundations of the Republic, and hews the pillars that sustain our civil and religious institutions. The school-teacher should therefore possess the qualifications of a master-builder, be able to plan his work, and execute it with tact, taste, and judgment. He should not only govern himself, but should be able to govern his pupils without seeming to govern. In a word, he should be a model character, and regard his profession as one of honor, and honor his profession by elevating it to the dignity of a learned profession. He should remember that he is placed in a position which gives him a vast influence,—an influence broad as the ocean of time; an influence which should be pure in its character, and as refreshing to the growth of the inner life as the dews of heaven to the unfolding flowers.

There is no means, perhaps, more efficient in promoting the success of a professional teacher than the instruction to be derived from institutes, or normal schools, in which the art of teaching is made a specialty. This class of schools should be made a part of our school system. At least every Congressional district, if not every county, should have its normal school. It is only in this way that our public schools can be supplied with accomplished teachers, and be made worthy of being called the "people's colleges."

But the truth is, the masses are not as yet more than half awake to their real interests. In the cause of popular education the wonder is that educators have done so much, and legislators so little. The true educator is a philanthropist. He sees and feels that public sentiment needs to be enlightened and liberalized before it will yield its sanction to such a system of public schools as ought to be established.

In perfecting our present system, we need a National Bureau of Education, authorized to act as a central power in directing, if not in controlling, the general educational interests of the entire country. A department of this kind, it is believed, would give efficiency and equality to all public schools, and thus greatly elevate their general character. And with this view Congress should be required by the Constitution, not only to establish, but support in each of the States at least one national college; and these colleges should constitute a national university, in which the crowning studies should be natural science, military science, and the science of government.

It is doubtless true that educators have already become a power in the land. Of this fact they seem to be aware, and the danger is that their influence may be subordinated to the uses of political aspirants. Every educator has a right, of course, to express his own individual opinions; but he certainly has not the right to employ educational instrumentalities to promote the interests of a selfish partisanship, either in State or Church. Whenever it is attempted to sow "tares" of this kind among the wheat, it is to be hoped that an indignant public sentiment will eradicate them with an unsparing hand.

It is always pleasant to recall our early schooldays, with their many delightful and refreshing memories, which still linger about the old school-house where we received our elementary education,—the dear old school-house by the wayside, with its noisy group, its sunny spots, and its hours of fun and frolic, and especially its birchen sceptre, which so often taught us the "doctrine of passive obedience." It is unquestionably true that every school-house, to some extent at least, reflects its character in the character of its pupils. Hence we should not only look to the character of our schools, but should build our school-houses in a neat, if not imposing style; for they, though silent, are eloquent teachers, whose influence should create such impressions as will tend to refine the tastes and elevate the aspirations of the youthful mind.

But no system of education which is contracted, or revolves in a circle, can fully meet the exigencies of the mind, or satisfy the demands of the age. In most American colleges, as well as in the universities of Europe, a definite course of study is prescribed and made a fixed fact,—a kind of Procrustean bed on which every lad is either stretched or abridged to fit; and this is done, as scholastics tell us, for the purpose of disciplining the mind. No two persons were ever created to think, act, or look alike in every respect; nor can an educational system be prescribed by square and compass which will be alike adapted to all minds. In my humble judgment, those studies best discipline the mind which tend most to enlarge and liberalize it, and which are essentially concordant with its native powers and capacities. The course of education, therefore, which will best develop the peculiar genius, talent, or marked preference of the pupil, should be adopted so far as practicable. If a young man, for instance, exhibits a native talent or taste for music, painting, mechanics, law, medicine, theology, agriculture, or commerce, his education should take the direction indicated. If this plan were pursued in all our colleges and other schools of a high order, we should soon see, instead of here and there a star, a galaxy of brilliant men and women in the sky of our national renown, whose excellence in their several specialties would challenge the admiration of mankind.

The truth is, our modern colleges are not modern enough. They look to the ancients for wisdom, instead of seeking it from Nature and the revelations of modern science. In a word, the dead languages are studied too much; the living, too little. Next to mathematics, the natural sciences should take the preference. No man is thoroughly educated who is not thoroughly instructed in these sciences, especially in chemistry and geology. Every farmer should be familiar with agricultural chemistry, and be able to apply its principles. It is the utility, the practical good to be derived from an education, that gives to it value and solidity.

It is practical, not fanciful knowledge, which the masses need. In order to secure their elevation and social equality, every State in the Union should be required to maintain an efficient system of common schools, in which all instruction should be given in the English language, and the schools made accessible to all classes of youth, and be "good enough for the richest, and cheap enough for the poorest." In order to effect this, the system should recognize the theory as an equitable principle, that the property of the State is bound to educate the youth of the State. This principle is certainly a just one, since the man of property, though he have no children, is as much benefited by its application as the man who has children but no property, for the reason that the security of property, as well as the rights of persons and the stability of the Republic, must ever depend on the degree of intelligence possessed by the people.

In fact, each State should be regarded as one great school-district, and all its resident youth as the children of the State, for whose common education every citizen having taxable property is bound to contribute his proportionate share. In this way every child can be educated, and elevated to the social position of a true manhood; and it is only in this way that a work of such magnitude can be accomplished. In every point of view it is much wiser to educate than to punish, much wiser to build school-houses than prisons, much wiser to sustain school libraries than billiard-tables.

It is a matter of congratulation, however, that there is now much more confidence placed in the theory of common schools than in former years. In most of the States prejudice has yielded to enlightened sentiment, and the "people's colleges" have come to be regarded as the most useful and influential institutions in the land. All should be done that can be to render these schools pleasant and attractive. The school-house should be built not only in good taste, but its surroundings should be made as cheerful and inviting as possible by planting about it ornamental trees, shrubs, and flowers. Its interior walls should be enriched with appropriate maps and charts, historical paintings, and portraits of renowned men and women. In addition to this, every school should be supplied with an ample apparatus, embracing specimen weights and measures, mathematical figures in wood, together with globes and a planetarium,—not omitting a cabinet of the leading minerals, metals, and coins. Their uses and characteristics should be explained and illustrated by the teacher in a simple style of language, and in the presence of the entire school, at least once or twice a week.

Familiar exercises of this kind would deeply interest the pupils, and impart to their minds a degree of valuable knowledge which they would not be likely to obtain in any other way, and which might awaken, perhaps, some unconscious genius, who would in after-life so develop his powers as to advance the interests of science, and take his place among her proudest masters. In nearly every instance our truly great men have arisen from an obscure origin.

The time has already arrived, I am inclined to think, when there should be added to the usual course of studies pursued in our colleges, academies, and high schools, a systematic training in military science and discipline, as a means not only of physical culture, but as an easy method of fitting our young men to become practical soldiers and defenders of the Republic. We as a people, in consequence of the late Civil War in which we have been involved, are evidently undergoing a transition, which has already had the effect to change in a good degree our national traits of character. If we would have invincible men, we must, like the ancient Greeks, accustom our sons to hardships and manly exercises, give them muscle as well as mind, teach them to love and defend their country, and if need be, to die for it,—die on the battle-field,—

The attempt which we are making in our public schools to educate our children in the shortest possible time is a grave error. We ought rather to "make haste slowly," if we would do the work well. A work of this character is one which requires patience and perseverance. There is no short way to knowledge, no patent right that can produce it to order. It can only be obtained by study, persevering study, aided by the patient efforts of competent teachers. It is all-important therefore that we should furnish our children with such elementary books as are best adapted to their capacities and needs, and with such teachers as are qualified to teach them lessons contained not only inside of books but outside of books,—lessons which abound everywhere, both in the natural and in the moral world. We should also furnish them with school libraries composed of standard works, and including the best current literature of the day. A library of this character should be established in every school-district, and be made accessible to every citizen. In this way, and only in this way, can the masses be supplied with the mental food which they so much need, and which is indispensable to their moral and intellectual elevation. No matter what the cost, public libraries always pay a liberal dividend in the shape of mental and moral power, if not in dollars and cents. No matter what dangers may threaten our free institutions, depend upon it, a reading people will take care of themselves.

The ancients built temples for their gods; we build school-houses for our children. This one fact exhibits perhaps more clearly than any other the distinctive character which marks the career of ancient and modern civilization, and indicates the great change which has been wrought in the course of ages by the law of progress. We may justly regard our numerous school-houses and churches as the mirrors not only of moral character, but as the safeguards of the Republic.

In the pursuit of knowledge, it is quite absurd to suppose that all high attainment in art, in literature, and in science, must of necessity be confined to the "learned professions," as they are called by way of pre-eminence. It does not matter what a man professes to know, but the question is, what does he know, compared with what he might know? There should never be such a monopoly allowed to exist as a monopoly of knowledge. The learned professions have nothing in them sacred, no forbidden fruit,—nothing more than what everybody may know who chooses; nor can there be any good reason why every employment in the various departments of human industry—every trade, every mechanic art—should not be regarded as a learned profession, and be made a learned profession, in which brains as well as hands should co-operate in achieving success and in solving new problems.

There is food for thought in every human pursuit. In order to be successful, in order to achieve high aims, the laboring man must not only think, but be capable of thinking profoundly. Indeed, every man may live like a philosopher, and be a philosopher, if he will. But no man can be a true philosopher who is not both a practical worker and a practical thinker. There is nothing the world needs more than workers and thinkers to make it a paradise. The masses are workers, and if educated, would become thinkers. It is only once or twice in a century, it is said, that "God lets loose upon the earth a great thinker." Of the past, this may be true, but not of the present. We have scores of men now living who are greater thinkers than Plato, Newton, or Franklin, because modern science has introduced them into broader fields of thought. The chemists, geologists, inventors, and discoverers of the present day have never been excelled as profound thinkers. Ours is literally an age of philosophers.

Truth, though eternal, is never stationary; nor will the law of progress ever reach a standpoint. There is always something to be done, some vacuum to be filled. It is said by philosophers that Nature abhors a vacuum. I do not doubt it, especially if it be a vacuum in the human head. It is pretty certain that the youthful head, if not filled with sense at the proper time, will soon be filled with nonsense. Neither errors of the head nor errors of the heart can be easily eradicated, when once implanted. The moral nature of the child may be moulded at will; but the cherished opinions of age can seldom, if ever, be either reversed or essentially modified. In the great battle of life our success as individuals must depend on the kind of armor in which we are clad, and the kind of weapons with which we are supplied. For effective service there is nothing which can be brought into the field so formidable or so irresistible as the artillery of logic. Intellect is always sure of becoming the ultimate victor. We read of giants in the chronicles of the early ages,—physical giants, who could overthrow the pillars of the proudest temples, and bear off mountains upon their shoulders; yet of what value to the world were their marvellous exploits, if really true, compared with the achievements of those intellectual giants who have appeared at different epochs, and taught mankind the most useful lessons in the arts, in the sciences, and in philosophy? And here let me say to the young aspirant for worldly honors that if he would achieve high aims, he must not only aim high, but have faith in himself as well as in a Divine Providence. Indeed, every man, however humble, may become great in his vocation, if he will; yet no man can become truly great who is not truly good.

So far as human perfection can be defined, it consists in the purity and sublimity of moral action,—a perfection which may be approached, if not reached, by all who are so disposed. How truly has it been said that we are never too old or too wise to learn! Nor is any man so ignorant but he may teach a philosopher something.

No matter how conservative we may be in our creeds and opinions, the world will continue to move onward; nor can it stand still if it would. The time is at hand when errors in creed, as well as in education, to which we cling, will not only be exposed, but exploded. However hopeless the condition of the masses may seem, they are already demanding more light and only await an opportunity to proclaim their emancipation from mental thraldom.

The statistics relating to the numbers of mankind, and to the frail tenure of human life, convey lessons which ought not to be disregarded in the estimate we make of what man can do to elevate himself. Strange as it may seem, it is a fact pretty well ascertained that the entire population of the globe neither increases nor diminishes, but remains essentially the same. And yet the population of the earth is continually undergoing changes from the operation of local causes, increasing here and diminishing there, as the ages advance. The law involved seems based on the principle of a just compensation for all diminution. In other words, the earth has a limited capacity, and like a cup when filled, can hold no more, yet always remains full.

When we consider the fact that one fourth of mankind die before reaching seven years of age; one half before reaching seventeen years; and that sixty persons die every minute,—we are struck with astonishment, and are naturally led to inquire into the reasons. The causes which abridge life may for the most part be attributed to popular ignorance, or disregard of physical law,—either in ancestor, parent, or child. Nothing can be truer than the fact that the "sins of the fathers are visited upon their children unto the third and fourth generation," and even to indefinite generations. It is indeed a fearful inheritance, when life comes to us tainted with constitutional disease. For this there seems to be no remedy, except in the adoption of such a popular system of education as will diffuse a practical knowledge of the laws of health.

It may be safely asserted that many people, especially in America, where food is abundant and the style of living luxurious, "dig their own graves with their teeth." Americans, as we all know, are disposed to live fast, and of course die prematurely. In short, we are a sanguine, impatient people; have morbid appetites, crave rich viands, seek wealth and office, and care for little else. In our successes we commit excesses. In the pure elixir of life we infuse drops of poison. Yet Nature proffers us the gift of long life, and waits our acceptance with a patient spirit. Though extreme longevity may not be desirable, yet many more than now do, might attain to the dignity of centenarians, if they would but live in obedience to physical law.

In the elements of his physical nature, man is truly "of the earth earthy." Chemists say that a man of ordinary size is composed of forty pounds solid matter and five buckets of water, all of which may be converted into gas. However this may be, man is a delicate piece of mechanism, a combination of divine inventions. For example, his eye is a telescope, which penetrates the mysteries of the stars; his ear is a drum, which repeats every sound in nature; his heart a timepiece, which marks, with measured beat, the fleeting moments of his life; his vocal organs a harp with a thousand strings, which is capable of uttering the divinest music.

And yet man in his moral nature, though created but "a little lower than the angels," is a profound puzzle. He advances many theories, questions even divine truth, yet believes in absurdities. Nor need we marvel at this, perhaps, when we recall the fact that mankind speak more than three thousand different languages, and profess more than one thousand different religions.

Whether regarded as a common brotherhood, or as composed of distinct races, it is evident that the human family have made rapid advancement in the amelioration of their condition during the last century, through the instrumentalities of a world-wide commercial intercourse, and the consequent diffusion of nobler incentives to action. Yet of the one thousand millions that compose the great family of man, more than six hundred millions are still groping their way in the darkness of a moral midnight, awaiting the advent of the school-master and the promulgation of a purer and holier faith. Even in Christian countries, especially in the South-American States, and in many parts of Europe, the masses are almost universally illiterate and superstitious, and have so long been accustomed to oppression that they have become quite indifferent, if not insensible, to their natural rights; nor dare they, if they would, assert their manhood.

In Italy, the land of art and of beauty, the proportion of those who can read is from twenty to thirty in a hundred, while among the inhabitants within a circle of thirty miles around Rome, there is not one in a hundred, it is said, who can read. Not only in these countries, but in more than half the globe, the masses submit to oppression, because it is the policy of their oppressors to hold them, spell-bound, in ignorance. If they are ever elevated to the social and political rank which the God of Nature designed them to occupy, it must be done by the school-master, armed with his text-books and sustained by the efforts of an enlightened Christian philanthropy. For this ultimate object God works, and man should work.

There can be no doubt but natural scenery, as well as climate, exercises a decided influence in the formation of national character. Whether we advert to Palestine, Switzerland, or New England, it is easy to discover that the mountains of these countries have by their silent eloquence inspired the masses of the people, not only with reverence, but with a love of freedom. In the sublimity of the cloud-capped mountains, they seem to recognize a divine presence which has taught them to look skyward, and to feel that they are destined to ascend in the scale of existence; while in low and level countries, especially on the plains of Russia and Asia, the inhabitants take horizontal views of things, and consequently submit to oppression, and never dare, like mountain-bred men, to break their fetters or question the decrees of fate.

The ancient Hebrews, as everybody knows, were not only brave in warfare, but were distinguished above all other nations as a reverential and God-fearing people. Their form of government was essentially theocratic. In the earthquake they recognized the footsteps of God; in the solemn thunder they heard his voice; in the lightning's flash they saw an expression of his anger; in the rainbow they beheld a token of his promise,—in a word, they were a peculiar people, who have, in the record of their experiences, transmitted to mankind a sacred inheritance.

Switzerland is emphatically a land of mountains and of heroes. Almost every hill and vale within her borders has its consecrated spots and its sanctified memories. In the recesses of her mountains the love of freedom ever burns with a pure and a holy flame, because it is a love which was born of the mountains.

In New England it is equally apparent that the silent grandeur of her mountains contributes to inspire her inhabitants with lofty sentiments, and with a love of civil and religious liberty,—a love which can never be subjected to the reign of oppression, nor be misdirected in its action, except by its own enthusiasm.

It often happens that the inhabitants who occupy distinct portions of a common country differ as widely in their sentiments as in their manners and customs. Especially is this true of the United States, where it is easy to distinguish the Eastern, Western, and Southern people from each other. It may be natural causes, or it may be local interests, that have created these differences, and marked the people of each region with those peculiar personal traits which give them character.

The New Englanders are generally characterized as sedate, formal, and puritanical, guessing at everything, yet pretty shrewd at guessing. They possess genius, are prolific in inventions, and scrupulous in matters of faith. In discussing theological questions, they split hairs; in making a bargain, they conclude to split the difference. In all things they are quick to see advantages, and apt to take advantages. In whatever they undertake, they look ahead and go ahead. In every sixpence which falls within their grasp, they recognize an element of power which "leads on to fortune;" and when they have acquired a fortune, they are pretty sure to keep it. And, as Halleck the poet says,—

In the Western States, where Nature educates men on a liberal scale by giving them broad rivers, broad lakes, and broad prairies, we find a people characterized by broad and liberal views of things, large-heartedness, frank manners, generous sympathies; a philanthropy which regards all mankind as a brotherhood, and a public sentiment which rebukes intolerance. In truth, Western men despise "little things" and devise "liberal things," and would sooner sacrifice their lives than yield obedience to the mandates of either political or ecclesiastical oppression.

In the Southern States Nature has not as yet effected much in the exercise of her educational influences. In whatever she has attempted in this direction she seems to have been overruled by circumstances,—by the difference in races, and by the prejudices of caste. Though the South has produced intellectual men of a high order, she has contributed comparatively but little either to science or to standard literature. Yet it must be conceded that the South has always been justly distinguished for her hospitality, cordiality, and chivalric spirit.

Whatever human institutions may achieve, it is certain that Nature in the manifest wisdom of her works contributes largely to the education of all classes of men in all countries. In her great school, even the uncivilized man not unfrequently becomes a profound philosopher. The coinage of her mint has the true ring in it and passes current everywhere. Her light is the light of the world, yet the masses are too blind, or rather too ignorant, to see it. Without intending the least disrespect to the one thousand different theologies which distract mankind, it may be asserted that the Book of Nature is in itself a divine revelation, which has been divided by her own hand into chapter and verse, and may be read in the alphabet of the flowers, in the rocks of the hills, and in the stars. In its language it is not only beautiful, but every word is suggestive; in its doctrines it is pure and truthful; in its wide range of thought it treats principally of life, and of the conditions of life, and assures us that the silent process of creation—of eternal change—still goes on, now as ever; and that every particle of matter in the universe is constantly active, achieving something.

In a philosophical sense, there is nothing dead that does not live. Matter combines, dissolves, and re-combines. New forms of life and new conditions of life appear and disappear. The very dust under our feet has lived and breathed, and will live again. Nature waits to be gracious, and is ever ready to reveal her mysteries as fast as man can comprehend them. And though she speaks with a silent lip, she invites all to share her bounties. Her wealth is infinite.

In every star, in every flower, in every blade of grass, in every grain of sand, in everything visible and invisible, there is life, light, and beauty. In everything there is power. We cannot look at a grain of sand, insignificant as it may seem, without seeing in its composition the material which enables us to read the golden record of the heavens. In the falling raindrop, when converted into steam, we recognize the existence of a power which has revolutionized the world. In the kiss of the sunbeam we discover a magical influence which tints the flower, gives color to everything in Nature, and by its impress presents us with an exact and lifelike transcript of ourselves and of our friends. In the lightning's flash we have a language in which we can converse with our friends throughout the civilized world, at any moment we please.

When we consider what has been achieved in the way of scientific discovery during the last half-century, who can tell what may not be achieved in the next century, in the next ten centuries,—when the great mysteries of Nature shall be more fully revealed, and when new sciences, now unknown, shall disclose new principles, new forces, and still subtler agencies?

In her desire to advance human knowledge, Nature invokes interpreters—unborn interpreters—who, though far away in the distance, will yet come, and when they do come, will interpret in accordance with truth the mystical language in which her undiscovered secrets are written, and thus extend the empire of thought until it becomes infinite,—an empire in which man, still rising in the scale of intelligence, will acquire divine powers, and assume the dignity of a perfect manhood.

WOMAN AND HER SPHERE.