as the abstractions they replace. Groups also take the place of single articles, so that the boy may select his work, and so have the advantage of a deeper and more individual interest. In addition, the principle of service is brought in. The articles are useful—some little domestic convenience that may be given to the mother, some well-made trifle that the father will use and value. The sentiment which is thus woven into the work is far from idle. It is more than a pretty nothing. Have you ever reflected that all the great and beautiful things that have been made and done in the world—the great pictures, symphonies, poems, stories, buildings, exploits of all kinds that have needed the human spirit—have been made and done, not as the result of technical skill, but as the result of a sentiment, the sentiment of hope and love? I regret the partial decay of a visible religion in our midst, not because I believe that men need creeds to make them good on earth or to point out the way to heaven, but because it seems to me that an impressive worship, rich in color, in music, and in tradition, does so much to keep alive the sentiment of man, and give him the power of great and noble performance. I can not but envy the old painter who brought to his work the passion of a divine and human love, who painted the Mother of God with that face which embodied his own heaven. It may be that that passion for humanity which is appearing now as a redeeming force in modern society may some time touch afresh the national life with emotion, and open to us again a period of great performance.
The Herbartians are right, I think, in their scheme for the correlation of studies, when they group all the work about some sentiment study and invest all with human interest.
There is, further, an æsthetic objection to the abstract exercises of the Russian manual training. They are not beautiful. The finished projects of the American system—for so I shall in hope call the educational manual training—may be made beautiful. This, again, is a principle in both kindergarten and sloyd work, and one that we can not leave out of the count. It is, I think, an educational crime to have children deliberately make ugly things. Why should they, when there is so much possible beauty in the world, and so much real ugliness already? It is of large importance that children in all their work should regard beauty as a sacred and necessary quality.
The finished projects have a further advantage in better allowing a large proportion of free-hand work. Curved lines and warped surfaces that can only be judged by sight and touch are not only more beautiful but also more educative. A too great reliance upon calipers makes us all mechanical. It is quite possible to have the
