common soldier, cannot act on general orders, but must have direct and specific instructions in order to accomplish definite ends.

The prevailing criticism upon our schools, such for instance as that made recently by President Eliot, alleges that the average results (ends) of our best schools are comparatively slight and of small worth. The fact that the teacher does not understand the child is doubtless to some extent responsible for poor results, but only partially; one of the chief difficulties is, as we have said, the deplorable ignorance of what is and what is not worth teaching. That is, we need to study the objective side as well as the subjective side of education, or the relative values of studies in view of the future needs of the pupil as well as the processes and laws of mental growth, i. e., psychology. It would be a mistake, therefore, to establish in our colleges and universities chairs for the teaching of psychology and theoretical pedagogy, solely.

Instruction in applied pedagogy, looking to the formulation of precise and practical maxims, having a scientific basis and school-room application, is very much needed. What to teach of mathematics, history, etc., and how to teach for clearly defined ends are and must continue to be the most vital and important questions for pedagogical study. Hence, it is no exaggeration to affirm, with Spencer, that the chief need of our schools is some standard by which to measure educational values. This is a department of study and research that has been too much neglected. It is not sufficient to know, in a general way, that some studies, say for instance elementary arithmetic or language, have a practical value; while history. and geography have a culture value mainly. This is not enough.

The distinction is an important one. Teachers should know the comparative values of studies and that, too, not as wholes merely, but of specific topics and classes of facts, how and to what extent valuable either as discipline or information. When President Eliot stood before a body of school-men such as greeted him last year at Worcester, and affirmed his conviction that it was a waste of time to teach the capitals and boundaries of the States of the Union, he was applauded. How could it be otherwise? Everybody admits that a great deal of useless rubbish is taught in all our schools. And what is the remedy? Surely no general condemnation of the

practice has yet been adequate to stop it, so strong is the power of habit and tradition. The remedy must be found, if at all, in a better appreciation on the part of teachers of the relative values of subject matter for its practical, disciplinary, or culture ends. As a rule no effort is made in our elementary and higher schools to grade information according to any standard of relative values. All the topics of arithmetic, of history, and of geography are taught by most teachers as of equal or nearly equal importance. As a proof of this, witness the kind of questions generally called for upon examinations in our best schools and colleges; consider also the specific values attached to questions of various sorts. The absence of any just standard for determining relative values will be apparent everywhere.

This leads to the statement that when the broad distinction is made between studies that have a culture value mainly, and those that have a practical value merely, a sharply defined difference of method should be adopted in teaching. For example: whatever is needed for the uses of daily living should be so well and thoroughly learned that the processes, mental or physiological, should become automatic. We learn to walk, to move the arms and hands, to articulate, etc., so as to perform the normal acts automatically and without conscious effort. So the mental and physical processes of reading, and largely of writing, and of combining small numbers, etc. By frequent repetition all these acts become thoroughly mechanized, and the wise teacher will see to it that her instruction reaches the point where useful acts become fixed and invariable habits. The mistake is made when history and geography, which are essentially culture studies, are taught with the same end in view, to wit, the absolute fixing of this information by frequent repetition, so that it is reproduced with ease and certainty.

It was Voltaire, I believe, who said facetiously that all the geography a girl needed to know was "how to find the northeast bedroom," and all the chemistry, "how to make a kettle boil." We may be willing to extend Voltaires's categories of necessary information, but to treat all facts as of equal, or of anything like equal value, and to seek to reduce them to the automatic memory is the most common error in teaching. It exhibits a failure to estimate either the true ends of teaching or the relative values of different kinds of knowledge.

In general the method to be pursued in teaching practical studies, as distinguished from culture studies, may be broadly described as follows: the principle of the former should be that of repetition until certainty of automatic reproduction is secured. In all operations with the small numbers, in reading, spelling, etc., the end should be absolute memorizing-no halfway results; in other words, to mechanize the processes so completely as to relieve the mind from all conscious effort. Perfect and absolute memorization then, is the rule for practical studies.

But in culture studies, not so. Here the principle is that of unconscious absorption. For illustration: one may read a story by Scott or Dickens and unconsciously absorb the whole plot and development, and be profoundly and permanently impressed thereby, while having made no conscious effort to memorize any part of it. So all culture studies that have in view the enlargement of the intellectual horizon, the development of the sensibility, and the guidance and control of the will, should be studied upon the absorptive principle and never by forced memorizing, as though they were practical studies.

The carrying out of this principle would modify the teaching of geography, of history, and of literature to a remarkable extent. Instead of making the immediate end of such study the power to reproduce from memory certain facts, the aim should be rather to secure such a reaction upon the mind of the pupil as would enlarge the mental perspective, broaden the sympathies, strengthen the will, exalt the sentiments, and in general, conduce to the development of intelligence and character.

JERSEY CITY, N. J.

ADDISON B. POLAND.

VI.
EDITORIAL.

The argument of President Walker in regard to the education furnished by the American scientific schools, which appears in this issue of the EDUCATIONAL REVIEW, made up the major portion of his eloquent and striking address at the University Convocation at Albany. To graduates of literary colleges, and to teachers in those institutions, President Walker's conclusions may at first sight seem very radical, but it will be found a task of great difficulty to controvert them. It is hard for those accustomed to another order of things to understand that a deepening and widening civilization has altered the content of education-or better, has broadened it-while retaining its form. The objects and ideals of intellectual and moral culture are the same that they have always been since systematic education began. But the path to this goal is no longer a single or a narrow one. Science, as well as letters, history as well as philosophy, can afford that mental discipline and culture that the world prizes so highly.

It is not impossible, however, that President Walker has too constantly in mind the admirable institution over which he himself presides, in making his generalizations. Even the school of science or technology needs in its curriculum some instruction in the English language and literature, in history and in economics. The Massachusetts Institute of Technology furnishes this; but the same cannot be said of many other schools of similar character. The fault of the technically trained man in this country too often is that he knows nothing but his technique. His intellectual sympathies are narrow and his vision limited. It is of the essence of the old humanities to guard against these faults, and for that reason literary and historical studies should have some representation in every scientific or technical course of study.

After considerable delay, the managers of the World's Columbian Exposition have appointed a director of the de

partment of liberal arts, which, in the classification adopted, includes education. It is highly creditable to the intelligence and good judgment of Director-General Davis that his nominees should have been such competent and representative men as President Daniel C. Gilman, Professor Herbert B. Adams, and Dr. Selim H. Peabody. Neither President Gilman nor Professor Adams felt able to accept the position, and while their decisions were greatly regretted, the acceptance of the place by Dr. Peabody renders it certain that education will occupy a dignified and important place at the World's Fair. Dr. Peabody has just retired from the presidency of the University of Illinois, and will, it is understood, be able to devote his whole time to the organization of the department of liberal arts.

On March 28 next occurs the three hundredth anniversary of the birth of John Amos Comenius, one of the greatest and most practical educational leaders of all time. In Germany elaborate preparations are making for the celebration of the event. A similar movement has been organized in this country, and appropriate exercises will be held at Columbia. College, in March next, under the auspices of the department of philosophy and education in that institution. The committee having the matter in charge are: Dr. William T. Harris, Commissioner of Education; Professor Herbert B. Adams, of Johns Hopkins University; Professor Paul H. Hanus, of Harvard University; C. W. Bardeen, of Syracuse, N. Y.; Rev. Edward Rondthaler, of Salem, N. C.; and Rev. Robert de Schweinitz, of Bethlehem, Pa.; together with the professor of philosophy in Columbia College.

It may fairly be doubted whether three more successful educational meetings were ever held than those of the American Institute of Instruction, the New York University Convocation, and the National Educational Association in July last. The attendance at each was very large, and the tone of the papers and discussions was healthier and more serious than usual. As was quite generally predicted, the experiment of holding Round Table Conferences of specialists in connection with the general meeting at Toronto was very successful. They are to be introduced hereafter at the meetings of the