Thus: All thinking men will eagerly admit, that the profession of the schoolmaster is, not only respectable, but honorable, alike to the individual, and to the community in which he pursues it: yet, rather than teach a school for a livelihood, the large majority of the same men would "split rails" or cut cord-wood! And this is not because teaching is laborious--though it _is_ laborious, and thankless, too, beyond all other occupations; but because a number and variety of causes, into which we need not inquire, have combined to throw ridicule upon him, who is derisively called the pedagogue--for most men would rather be shot at, than laughed at. Cause and effect are always inter-reactive: and the refusal of the most competent men, to "take up the birch"--which is the effect of this derision--has filled our school-rooms with men, who are, not unfairly, its victims. Thus the profession--(for such is its inherent dignity)--itself, has fallen into discredit--even though the judgment of men universally is, that it is not only useful, but indispensable. Nor is that judgment incorrect. For, though home-education may sometimes succeed, it is usually too fragmentary to be beneficial--private tutors are too often the slaves of their pupils, and can not enforce "attention," the first condition of advancement, where they have not the paraphernalia of command--and, as for self-education, logically there can be no such thing: "one might as well attempt to lift himself over the fence, by the straps of his boots," as to educate himself "without a master." The schoolmaster, then, is a useful member of society--not to be spared at any stage of its progress. But he is particularly necessary to communities which are in the transition state; for, upon the enlightenment of the rising generation depend the success and preservation of growing institutions. Nor does his usefulness consist altogether--or even in a great measure--in the number of facts, sciences, or theories, with which he may store the minds of his pupils. These are not the objects of education, any more than a knowledge of the compartments in a printer's "letter-case," is the ultimate result of the art of printing. The types are so arranged, in order to enable the compositors more conveniently to attain the ends, for which that arrangement is only a preparation: facts and sciences are taught for the improvement of the faculties, in order that they may work with more ease, force, and certainty, upon other and really important things; for education is only the marshalling of powers, preliminary to the great "battle of life."