“Give me a lesson in geography,” said Mr. Arnold, “and I will make it _religious_.” This is what Catholics desire: that the light of religion should burnish as with fine gold all human knowledge. Indeed, in primary education religion is almost the only subject of real thought, the only power able to touch the heart, to raise the mind, and to evoke from brutish apathy the elements of humanity, and more especially the reason. As religion is the widest and deepest of all the elements of civilization, it ought to be the substratum and groundwork of all popular education. “Popular education,” says Guizot, “to be truly good and socially useful, must be fundamentally religious.” In the compilation of text‐books this is precisely the point which demands the greatest amount of good sense and the most consummate tact. Religion must run through the whole fabric like a thread of gold. It must form the atmosphere in which the pupil breathes; it must give coloring to everything, and everything must in one way or another be made to prove and explain its dogmas, and yet there must be no cant, no attempt at preaching, no dull moralizing, and above all no stupidity. To accomplish all this, our readers will readily believe, is not an easy task, and yet we have no hesitation in saying that if they will take the trouble to examine thoroughly the “Young Catholic’s Series,” they will agree with us in the opinion that it can stand the test of even this standard of excellence. ‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐ We learn that the Holy Father has sent a letter of commendation to the writer of “Italian Confiscation Laws” in THE CATHOLIC WORLD for Oct., 1873, and ordered a translation of the article. THE CATHOLIC WORLD. VOL. XX., NO. 116.—NOVEMBER, 1874. Church Chant _Versus_ Church Music. An interesting colloquy took place in our mind as we finished the perusal of the paper entitled “Church Music” which appeared in the August and September numbers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD. We transcribe it as faithfully as our memory serves us. SCENE—_The cloister of a Benedictine monastery. Time, Anno Domini 1000. A number of monks rehearsing for a festival._ GREGORIUS, _the choir‐master dictating from an open Gradual_. “Listen, my brothers all. To‐morrow is the festival of S. Polycarp the martyr and the name‐day of our good father, the abbot. On such a joyous festival we must not fail to make his heart right glad with our chanting. Let us begin the Introit. (_Sings._) ‘Gaudeamus omnes in Domino, diem festum celebrantes.’ ” (_All the monks repeating in chorus_) “Gaudeamus omnes in Domino, diem—” (_They are interrupted by a loud knocking at the floor leading from the cloister. Brother Gregorius, on opening it, is confronted by an aged stranger with a long, white, flowing beard, bearing in his hand a roll of printed music, on which the words __“__Boston,__”__ __“__Ditson__”__ and the date __“__1874__”__ can be discerned._)