FARMERS' INSTITUTES. 427 



of being made by bis scbooliiig so niucb more tbe reasonable man, exalting 

 his calling by his culture and wisdom along with skill, he must be so much 

 more the linished tool in the hands of one who is smart enough to use him. 

 His very absorption in liis own calling puts him at the mercy of sharpers in 

 every other interest, and, instead of training himself so as to break down the 

 barriers of isolation which hinder his recognition by the rest of the world, he 

 is building them higher and stronger. The room for future growth in general 

 ability and general knowledge, that can bring enjoyment of a stalwart man- 

 hood or a ripe old age, is not provided for. All this training is for the art, and 

 not for the artizan or his advantage in using the products of art. Is this 

 just to humanity? Is it even reasonable to expect success in the very narrow 

 Ime of that particular art chosen? Real work of any high order in the world 

 finds a motive in some form of philanthropy. A culture of the emotions and 

 the tastes is therefore quite as essential to a successful art as to anything else 

 in the world. When does the farmer brood over his cares and groan over his 

 toils, but when he shuts himself away from fair comparison with the rest of 

 the working world by taking no part in it? When does the farmer's boy long 

 to shirk his tasks and fly away to a life in the brisker world, but when his face 

 has been held too steadily to the same grindstone with only an occasional 

 stolen glimpse of the Avork about him? In the history of the fine arts 

 the grand successes have not fallen to the narrow specialists. In the realm of 

 scientific investigation there is waste from taking too narrow a field, in which 

 the principal relations for comparison are lost sight of. Real and apparent 

 discoveries take equal rank then. So in the industrial arts themselves this 

 special training tends to confine to those minute perfections that result from 

 following a model. The true inventive spirit is not fostered, but quenched, 

 by this confinement within a single channel of thought and action. 



J^or is the progress in learning the trade likely to be as rapid as is supposed. 

 The finer parts of the trades, and most of the manual operations of all arts are 

 such that one can become skillful only by habitual practice. As in the art of 

 penmanship "practice" alone, with fair models, "makes perfect," and all 

 the science of ink and pen and paper and curves and combinations and confor- 

 mations with all the history of the art from the Phoenicians down, cannot give 

 to the willing mind one whit better control over the unwilling muscles; so 

 xinder this proposed system in general art, the fund of information combined 

 with practice can add little of vivacity or readiness, and may be but so much 

 lumber to be carried. 



Further than this, the course itself fails to become attractive. The details 

 of the art are better and more rapidly mastered in a practical apprenticeship. 

 The so-called scientific instruction is so curtailed in its scope and dimensions 

 as to lose almost its character of science. The realm of suggestive and quick- 

 ening thought is shut out by the demands of the trade. 



Thus, it seems to me, from the very nature of knowledge and skill, these 

 efforts to subordinate the one to the other must prove useless so far as promot- 

 ing the arts or elevating the artizan is concerned. Their chief success is in 

 fitting a young man for a sort of gentleman foreman among inferior workmen. 

 In some countries such training schools are useful and necessary, and they may 

 become so in our own ; but they do not touch the question of popular educa- 

 tion at all, and have no place whatever in solution of tlie questions we are ask- 

 ing for whole communities. 



The real answer to the question, "How shall science be made more useful 

 and elevating to the masses engaged in the industrial arts?" lies, I think. 



