And when we come to the higher phases of intellectual work, we find that though we have plenty of “schools of art” we have no great British artists such as Gainsborough, Reynolds or Romney. And though every one is supposed to know how to read and write, we have no great literature such as that of Shakespeare, Scott, Thackeray or Dickens. These belonged to the days of non-compulsory Education. Poetry, too, the divinest of the arts, is well-nigh dead. The great poets were born in so-called “uneducated” times. Our present system of Education is absolutely disastrous in one respect--that of its tendency to depress and cramp rather than to encourage the aspiring student. Its mechanical routine works on the line of flattening all human creatures down to one level. Originality is often “quashed.” Yet in all educational schemes there should be plenty of room left for the natural ability of the student or worker to expand and declare itself in some entirely new form wherever possible. But despite our perpetual talk of the advantages of Education, here we are to-day with plenty of schools both before and behind us, but no very great men. And looking a long way back in history we see that when there was no Compulsory Education at all, there _were_ very great men,--men who made the glory of England. Shall we leave anything after us, to match their heritage? It is open to doubt. Much of our modern work is “scamped” and badly done. And a great deal of the mischief arises from our way of “rushing” things. We are so anxious to catch Time by the forelock that we almost tear that forelock off. But why such haste? What is our object? Well,--we want to make money before we die. We want to make it, and then spend it on ourselves, or else leave it to our children, who will no doubt get rid of it all for us with the most cheerful rapidity. Or we want to have enough to “sit down and do nothing.” This is some people’s idea of perfect bliss. A servant of mine once very kindly reproached me for sticking at my desk so long. “If I were a lady,” said she--“I would sit down and do nothing.” No more cruel torture can be imagined than this. We read in history of prisoners who, condemned to such a life, went mad with the misery of it. The only way to live happily and healthfully is to try with every moment of our time to accomplish something--even if it be only a thought. Thought, as we know, crystallizes into action. Yet very few people really think. Many get no further than to think they are thinking. To think is a kind of Work--too hard for many folks. In politics, for instance, some people let the Press think for them. They cannot be bothered to do it for themselves. And when the Press makes what is called a “corner” in any particular policy, they sometimes submit to be “cornered.” There have been of late a great many rumours concerning a gigantic Press “combine” which is to be formed for the purpose of swaying the opinion of the British public and particularly