however well planned, has even begun to do in the same degree.  It has kept the Chinese empire a unit through a period of time compared with which the entire history of Greece and Rome is but an episode.  We may ridicule the formalism of Hebrew education, and yet the schools of rabbis have preserved intact the racial integrity of the Jewish people during the two thousand years that have elapsed since their geographical unity was destroyed.  I am not justifying the methods of Chinese or Hebrew education.  I am quite willing to admit that, in China at any rate, the game may not have been worth the candle; but I am still far from convinced that it is not a good thing for children to reduce to verbal form a good many things that are now never learned in such a way as to make any lasting impression upon the memory; and our criticism of oriental formalism is not so much concerned with the method of learning as with the content of learning,—­not so much with learning by heart as with the character of the material that was thus memorized.

But, although formalism is no longer a distinctive feature of American education, formalism is the point from which education is most frequently attacked,—­and this is the chief source of my dissatisfaction with the present-day critics of our elementary schools.  In a great many cases, they have set up a man of straw and demolished him completely.  And in demolishing him, they have incidentally knocked the props from under the feet of many a good teacher, leaving him dazed and uncertain of his bearings, stung with the conviction that what he has been doing for his pupils is entirely without value, that his life of service has been a failure, that the lessons of his own experience are not to be trusted, nor the verdicts of his own intelligence respected.  Go to any of the great summer schools and you will meet, among the attending teachers, hundreds of faithful, conscientious men and women who could tell you if they would (and some of them will) of the muddle in which their minds are left after some of the lectures to which they have listened.  Why should they fail to be depressed?  The whole weight of academic authority seems to be against them.  The entire machinery of educational administration is wheeling them with relentless force into paths that seem to them hopelessly intricate and bewildering.  If it is true, as I think it is, that some of the proposals of modern education are an attempt to square the circle, it is certainly true that the classroom teacher is standing at the pressure points in this procedure.

We hear expressed on every side a great deal of sympathy for the child as the victim of our educational system.  Sympathy for childhood is the most natural thing in the world.  It is one of the basic human instincts, and its expressions are among the finest things in human life.  But why limit our sympathy to the child, especially to-day when he is about as happy and as fortunate an individual as anybody has ever