accurate knowledge.’ It is interesting to find this complaint repeated in 1826 by an anonymous writer,[9] who maintains the old dictum that ‘females are not behind males in capacity, and excel them in diligence and docility,’ but they are handicapped by ‘an education of mere externals and of show.’ There is a want of stamina in girls’ education, and as for their school-books, they are mere combinations of words used as ‘substitutes or apologies for ideas.’ Maria Edgeworth’s influence should have been considerable, but turning from her works to her contemporaries and immediate successors, it seems doubtful whether they even understood her. Her stories, whose most useful lessons were addressed to parents, were turned into children’s books; and the demand for a more solid education simply led to an increase of the memory and book-work in schools. In spite of her strictures on the uselessness of a knowledge of isolated facts, and the attempts of Mrs. Barbauld and others to supply something better, the catechism system continued to grow and flourish. Large amounts of memory work were added to the piano and drawing, which still held their own, and the results were not merely negative as regards intellectual value, but positive in their injurious effects on health. Miss Frances Power Cobbe in her description of the fashionable boarding-school to which she was sent in 1836, speaks of the pages of prose the girls were expected to learn by heart, amid the din of constant practising. ‘Not that which was good in itself or useful to the community, or even that which would be delightful to ourselves, but that which would make us admired in society was the _raison-d’être_ of each requirement. Everything was taught in the inverse ratio of its true importance. At the bottom of the scale were Morals and Religion, and at the top were Music and Dancing, miserably poor music too, of the Italian school then in vogue, and generally performed in a showy and tasteless manner on harp or piano.’[10] Miss Cobbe thinks this education far worse than that received by her mother in 1790, when much less was attempted, and there was no ‘packing the brains of girls with facts.’ Besides ‘grammar and geography, and a very fair share of history’ (ancient from Rollin, and sacred from Mrs. Trimmer), they ‘learned to speak and read French with a very good accent, and to play the harpsichord with taste.’ Clearly things were on the downward course, and in the first half of this century the education of both sexes was in some respects in a worse condition in England than at any time before or since. Mere ignorance would have been comparatively harmless, but there never was a time when educational theories were more fashionable or more perverse. Miss Catherine Sinclair, who wrote in the forties and fifties, lifted up her voice, in _Modern Accomplishments_, against the system of cram and display then prevailing. ‘Lady Howard’s utmost ingenuity was exercised