PRESIDENT’S ADDRESS. 751 
of inward joy, of sympathetic and imaginative pleasure, 
which could be shared in by all human beings 
From them I seemed to learn what would be the perennial 
sources of happiness when all the greater evils of life shall 
have been removed; and I felt myself at once better and 
happier as I came under their influence . . . . The 
result was that I gradually but completely emerged from 
my habitual depression, and was never again subject to it.”’ 
The case which I have here sketched in Mill’s words 
should have many lessons for us. Allowing for the peculiar 
constitution of the subject’s fine mind, and for the abnormal 
conditions of that mind at the moment when Wordsworth 
first touched it, we may at least draw one general conclusion, 
namely: That if education be directed too exclusively to- 
wards the cultivation of the wmtellectual faculties of the 
mind, so that the emotional faculties are neglected, very 
disastrous results may follow; and I would add: The finer 
the mind, and the more delicate its susceptibilities, the 
greater is the danger of ruin to the growing soul. Leaving 
aside all the other lessons which may be drawn from Mill’s 
case (even for the present the interesting question of Words- 
worth’s wonderful ‘“‘ healing power ”’ and its sources), I have 
here a firm basis for some remarks on poetry as an instru- 
ment for the cultivation of the emotional side of human 
nature; and, I may say, I think that in an age when so- 
called ‘‘ scientific” culture is showing such a strong ten- 
dency to oust the “humaner’”’ system of education, too much 
stress can hardly be laid upon this view of my subject. 
Poetry, I would say, is soul-food; of mind-food I suppose 
we shall always have enough and to spare. Intellectual 
repletion is synonymous with soul-starvation; and I think 
I have now said enough to indicate a rock ahead. 
I must now clear my way a little by describing briefly 
what I refer to as education in this paper. I have thought 
that two kinds of education may be pretty clearly distin- 
guished—the haphazard and the systematic; and again two 
kinds—education for character and education for intellect. 
(Education for a special purpose—technical or professional 
education—I must omit altogether to consider.) I think, 
too, that my double classification may turn out to be really 
one. By the haphazard kind of education I mean (using an 
extreme term to characterise it) that kind of education 
which has been in vogue in England, with some not very 
radical changes and natural growths, from the sixteenth 
century to the present day, or, rather, yesterday. It is that 
inconsistent, apparently ill-organised, mainly “classical ”’ 
