sheep in the meadow, the grass means nothing but food; to man, however, every blade has a message, poetic and beautiful. Considered as a home, this world was made for man; in a thousand senses, it was not made for any other creature. It is the home of the oyster, but its wants are met by a little basin in the sea. It is the home of the elephant, but a few acres of Asiatic jungle furnish the food and the conditions necessary to its life. It is the home of the bird, but give it a tree and a worm, and a small circle of sky to fly around, and it needs no more. But man needs it all. For his hunger, the foods and the fruits of its continents, oceans, and skies. For his thirst, the waters of its thousand rills. For his shelter and protection, all its woods. For his thought, all its order and law. For his ills, the tender ministry of all its minerals and plants. He is related to it all, and to be completely furnished must be able to use it all. Considered as a place of discipline, the earth is for man, for he is the only creature helped and advanced by discipline. The beaver cuts his tree and builds his dam to-day just as the beaver did in the first year of his existence. He has had the discipline that comes through work, but it has not improved him nor elevated him. In order that the bee may live, he must gather his honey and build his cell. This is discipline. But he never improves. He never grows in culture or skill. The bee that built his cell in the trees of paradise, and gathered his honey from the flowers that grew in the garden of Eden, knew as well how to construct a cell according to mathematical principles, and to pack it with honey, as the Italian bee of the nineteenth century, who stores his honey in a painted gum prepared for him by man. Monkeys in South America cross rivers by twisting their tails, thus making bridges of themselves. This is discipline and exercise of a complex and marvelous sort, but they devise no new ways of building bridges. They do not increase in knowledge or skill by their work. That he may gain the means of subsistence, man is under the necessity of work too. But his work is to him a means of growth and knowledge. His work has helped him forward, and secured to him culture and skill. Suggestions come to him, as he fells the forest, as he plows the field, as he plants the seed, and as he rows his dug-out. These suggestions he turns to account. He builds them into better axes for cutting the trees, into better plow-stocks for breaking the land, and into better boats for crossing the sea. By turning the suggestions he has received into better methods, into improved tools and machinery, he has come from the dug-out to the ocean steamer; from the pack-mule to the palace car; from the scythe-blade to the mower and reaper; from the stone and sling to the improved army gun; from the spinning-wheel to the cotton-factory; and from the foaming steed of the flying messenger to the electric telegraph.