be quickly passed, and the student should be taught that the principal object of translation is to exercise his powers of expression.

It is evident from what has been written above that the question of the educational value of classical study depends almost entirely upon the question of the manner in which the study is pursued and of the ability of the instructor. This last element, no less than the first, is a more important factor of the calculation here than in any other department of the educational effort. In mathematics, or in the natural sciences, any capable young man can surely succeed by diligent application and perseverance, with text books alone. In mathematics the work proves itself. The student knows whether he is right or not without any indication from his instructor, The principal object of recitation is to find how well he has learned his lesson. He expects no help from his instructor;-at least he needs none. Whatever branch of the subject he pursues, he finds everything clearly and unmistakably written down in his text book. He has only to read, and understand, and remember. If he understands a demonstration and can go through with the process of proof, he knows it, or at least may know it, just as well before recitation as after. If he solves a problem, he knows that. Of course there are problems he cannot solve, but a solution of all difficult problems is not necessary to a thorough understanding of mathematical science. If it were, he could find a solution of the more difficult ones in a key, and could obtain the necessary assistance from that almost as profitably as from a living instructor. There is no essential difference between the two methods.

So in Physics, and Astronomy, and Chemistry;—in fact in all branches of Natural science. If he masters the terminology and understands the plain English of the text book, and learns and remembers the facts as they are presented to him, that is all that is essential to success. Diligent, persevering effort will of course be necessary, but there is no danger of going astray. If the student goes on at all he goes in the right direction.

This is by no means the case in the study of the classics. The student is not sure at first to perceive clearly the application of grammatical principles, for the study of language requires a clearer discrimination and a subtler analysis than any

exact science.

He is indeed sure to make numberless mistakes at points where he cannot as yet set himself right. He is not sure to appreciate fully the literature of the ancient languages, nor of any language. Such appreciation depends upon the development of faculties which the study of the ancient languages is especially calculated to produce. It is not certain that he can wrest the exact and complete sense from the classic text, and without competent instruction he has no means by which he can decide whether he has done so or not. Even if his general understanding of the passage is correct, it by no means follows that he perceives all the finer shadings of sentiment and thought, nor when he perceives them is it certain that he will be successful in his attempt to give them complete, graceful, unexceptionable expression in his own tongue.

The development of a subtle and delicate power of intellectual analysis, an alert attentiveness, a vigorous mental grasp, a tenacity of memory, a comprehensiveness of mind and an effective development of the faculty of language should be the result of the discipline supplied by these studies; but the success of the student depends always, to a very considerable extent, upon the ability of the instructor, who must direct him in the right way, correct his mistakes, assist him in numberless difficulties, and point out to him the opportunities of a more complete excellence.

As regards therefore the general question of the comparative value of classical study in the work of education, it seems to the writer to depend so entirely upon the more ultimate question of the manner in which the study is pursued and of the qualifications of the instructor, that he regards it as little worth while to discuss the one except in connection with the other. These studies may be invaluable, in some very important respects superior to anything else in the whole educational scheme or they may be, if not absolutely worthless, at least of very common-place rank. From our own observation and experience, we are not surprised that many college graduates are puzzled to tell what great good the study of the classics has done them, nor that so many are found ready to applaud the bright ideas of those who advocate the new education.

But on the grounds of the intrinsic merits of the classics and of the hopeful possibilities belonging to them, we must be per

mitted to say that it will be a sorry day for American culture when these new ideas finally prevail. They have already been carried too far in most American colleges, none of which are fairly beyond the reach of an ill-judging, popular clamor.

If the classics are to be studied in such a way as to secure to those who study the peculiar benefits they are capable of conferring, it is evident that more time rather than less must be devoted to their pursuit. Smattering is bad enough anywhere, but it is probably worse here than any where else. If the ancient languages are to hold their place in our courses of study, it must be not a narrower but a wider place. As a foundation for liberal culture they can never be successfully replaced; but they cannot be a foundation at all unless a certain breadth and thoroughness is allowed them. In many American colleges the place allotted to them is already too narrow for such a foundation. The inevitable effect of crowding everything else into the course, is to crowd the classics out.

The writer seriously doubts whether the modern languages have properly any place at all in a four years' course of collegiate study. There is matter enough to fill such a course which is more fundamental and of more indispensable importance, if thorough culture is the end proposed; and if the modern languages are admitted, something of this must be displaced to give them room.

Unquestionably one of the most serious evils of the American collegiate system is the tendency to smattering begotten of haste and of overcrowded courses of study. There is indeed reason to fear that a majority of our American college graduates, if not essentially smatterers, yet have not a comfortable. consciousness of mastery in regard to most of the studies of the course. The students in some of our colleges of the highest reputation, are constantly hurried from one lesson to another, and from one subject to another in such a way that they have not time to assure themselves that they have thoroughly mastered their tasks, even if such were the case. And the very best students in these colleges do not come to their examination papers, many times indeed not even to their recitation room, without a certain sense of misgiving and trepidation.

Now to one who appreciates the difference between thorough mastery and smattering upon the intellectual morale of the stu

dent, and in its general effect upon the process of educational development, and who, from actual experience, has been led to suspect that a large proportion of American college graduates are essentially smatterers, the effect of an overcrowded curriculum, especially upon classical study, will appear as a most serious evil, sufficiently serious indeed to warrant the banishment of modern languages forever from the course, unless the difficulty can be otherwise remedied.

We would say, therefore, let the modern languages come, if at all, in the last two terms of the Senior year, after the more important work of the course is already completed; and then let ample provision be made for them in an additional year of post-graduate study. The Master's degree might be made conditional upon such study, or at least upon a successful examination in such courses or subjects as might be prescribed.

It would not be unwholesome to impress the minds of students with the idea that there is something to learn after they leave college, and to indicate something for the purpose which they would have the most interest to pursue, and which would be most likely to engage their efforts.

And we trust it may not be considered impertinent if we remark in conclusion, that there ought to be at least one college in our country which would faithfully uphold the classical curriculum in all its ancient prominence, and in its unabridged integrity;-one college in which classical study might be pursued without a demoralizing sense of confusion and hurry, and with the deliberate steadiness essential to mastery, and to the healthy growth of the mental faculties. Thus the idea of mental discipline and development might be fairly contrasted with that notion of education which makes it consist in trying to learn a little of everything useful or desirable in a four years' course of study. The latter course may indeed produce a certain superficial smartness, but it can give no foundation for enduring strength, nor for true greatness, nor for substantial success. The one idea is in accord with the most vicious and self-destructive tendencies of the American character. The other is well calculated to restore the balance of deliberate strength and solidity, which the hasty eagerness of modern times has contributed so much to disturb.

ARTICLE VII.-NOTICES OF NEW BOOKS.

BUNYAN.*--This biography, from Morley's series of "English Men of Letters," needs no heralding to commend it to all our readers. Such a subject as Bunyan in the hands of such a writer as Froude, could not fail to make a charming volume. At first, indeed, there would seem to be an incongruity, almost repulsive, in the association of the two names for such a purpose. That one of the most illustrious examples and champions of Calvinism should be portrayed by a historical writer understood to be at a far remove from any school of evangelical thought, was to the majority of those most interested in the subject at least an unpromising conjunction. There was a similar apprehension when Southey became a biographer first of John Wesley and then of Bunyan half a century ago. The contrast in that case was by no means so radical as in this, but it was enough to awaken no little jealousy among the followers and admirers of the two great evangelical leaders. Yet the reputation of the subjects gained more than it lost by the testimony of a writer more impartial and more scholarly than preceding biographers. And in the case before us, in spite of a more radical antagonism, the genius and character of Bunyan will stand even higher than before, and in a larger circle of readers, for the tribute Mr. Froude has rendered. He makes no secret indeed of his own unbelief on points that Bunyan and multitudes of others have felt to be more vitally important and sacred than any man's individual endowments or reputation, and he would have fared ill if the great allegorist had taken him in hand for one of his immortal portraitures. But we call attention to the fact that however unsettled or heretical the biographer's own theology may be, if he has any, and with all his slurs and sarcasms, yet in many places in this book, and in an earlier address delivered in Scotland, he shows a warm liking for eminent Calvinists, and acknowledges great truths in some of their most pronounced and characteristic utterances. Repeatedly he speaks of their system itself as having always attracted the highest order of minds, and one might infer that with some change of costume and readjustment of parts, it would receive the homage

*Bunyan: by JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1880. pp. 178.