The home of all people, in all ages of the world's history, but especially as we know it to-day, is the one thing for which men live and work. Stop the first man you meet on the street,—"rich man, poor man, beggar-man, thief, doctor, lawyer, butcher, priest,"—any man, going along with a preoccupied mind, thinking of the case he is to plead, the trade he is to make, the book he is to write. Get into this man's mind, down below this particular thing that is on the surface of it, and down there there is one picture that you wilt always find, the picture of a cozy corner somewhere, of a woman sitting by the table or before the fire, of two or three growing girls, and a boy or two that look like him. Meet him wherever you will, find him in whatever occupation, or in whatever stage of spiritual or intellectual development; whenever you get under his jacket, whether it be a blouse or a tuxedo, you'll find this picture hanging on the wall of his heart. Ninety-nine men out of every hundred say, with Robert Burns:

"To make a happy fire-side clime For weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life."

And the young man of to-day, looking forth into the years that are to come, picturing himself as and where he would like to be, who sees himself alone, without the joys and companionship of wife and child, the young man who doesn't plan to have a home of his own to which he can lead the choice of his heart and in which he may multiply, thru the development of his own offspring, his powers of usefulness,—such a young man is a selfish monstrosity. And the young woman who isn't longing for a home of her own—for a little kingdom in which as Queen, she may rule jointly with a chosen King in loving ministration to their natural subjects—such a young woman is an abnormal specimen. The desire of every little girl for a doll, the craving of every boy for an animal pet, is but the manifestation of the deep-seated instinct of parenthood. Do nothing to stifle it. Minister to its growth and development. And young man—young woman, you who have left behind the days of knee trousers and short dresses, and with them have laid aside the doll and the pet, think it not weakness when you find yourself irresistibly drawn by the sweet smile of an innocent babe or by the childish prattle of one a little farther on. Be not ashamed when, under such influence, you picture yourself the center of a home, and in this connection think of him or her whom you would like to have share it with you. It is the sweetest influence that can ever come into your life. Rightly regarded and used, it will do more for your happiness and usefulness than any or all others that will ever come to you.

But when the crucial moment comes—when the die is to be cast and the promise asked and given that will bind the two lives together, halt for a moment until one asks and the other answers this "Woman's Question."

THE WOMAN'S QUESTION

"Do you know you have asked for the costliest thing Ever made by the Hand above— A woman's heart and a woman's life And a woman's wonderful love?

"You have written my lesson of duty out; Manlike you have questioned me; Now stand at the bar of my woman's soul Until I question thee.

"You require your mutton shall always be hot, Your stockings and shirts shall be whole. I require your heart to be true as God's stars And as pure as Heaven your soul.

"You require a cook for your mutton and beef. I require a far better thing. A seamstress you're wanting for stockings and shirts, I look for a man and a king.

"A king for a beautiful realm called home, And a man that the Maker, God, Shall look upon as He did the first And say, 'It is very good.'

"I am fair and young, but the rose will fade From my soft fair cheek some day; Will you love me then 'mid the falling leaves As you did in the bloom of May?

"Is your heart an ocean so strong and deep I may launch my all on its tide? A loving woman finds Heaven or hell On the day she is made a bride.

"I require all things that are grand and true, All things that a man should be, If you promise me this, I would stake my life To be all you demand of me.

"If you can not do this, a seamstress and cook You can hire with little to pay. But a woman's heart and a woman's life Are not to be won that way."

Yes, Bobby Burns was right when he said,

"To make a happy fire-side clime, For weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life."

Exactly what is God's ultimate purpose for the human race, I think no one knows. And I am not sure that we need to know. Where clear vision is not granted we walk by faith. But even if the ultimate end is not clearly portrayed, even if we are kept in the dark as to the great outcome, we do know pretty well His method of procedure. A careful study of the past and a critical analysis of the data now at hand looking to the future enable us to grasp with some clearness the leading outlines of the program. From generation to generation, from century to century, from age to age, as time has rolled on, there has been a gradual moving onward and upward, a steady improvement both in the refining and civilizing of man's own being and in bringing that being into sympathetic relations with the external world, that is, a gradual development of man's own powers, and an ever increasing control of the forces of nature. In spite of the fact that this progress has been, at times, painfully slow, it has never once ceased, and during the last century it has moved on with constantly accelerating speed until to-day the human race stands upon the highest point ever reached. I have absolutely no sympathy with that narrow pessimism which is always talking about "the good old times." All in all, there never was a time in the history of the world when man knew so much as to-day; there never was a time when his life was so ministered to by the forces of nature; never a time when his heart was so tender, when it responded so quickly to human suffering, never a time when all forms of evil were so quickly condemned nor when so much good was being done. The long program seems to have been for each age and each generation to hand on to its successors the legacy received, but increased and strengthened and bettered. How much longer this upward movement is to continue, how much more the race is to know and do, how much better it is to be, no one knows. God's ultimate purpose, His great object in view—we may not be able to grasp, but certainly it is not difficult for us to note the general direction of the movement. It is upward.

In all this, wherein does the home come, and what is its function? Is it not, has it not been from the very beginning the Divine agency used for doing this great work? Was not the home instituted, endowed with the divine power of love, and consecrated for the perpetuation of the race? "Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth." True, as many times pointed out, our toils and our struggles, our earnings and our productions, incidentally give us pleasure and satisfaction and power, but yet even these are but a means to an end,—that parents may beget, rear, and educate their children in such a way that they can carry the banner of civilization a little higher—lift society to a higher level and draw mankind nearer to God.

So it is that the center and circumference of the home is the child. In the child the home finds its meaning, its excuse, and its justification. It exists, then, that the child may be adequately prepared for doing its great work in the world. Whatever else it may do, on the side, it has one great problem. The child! The child! The best crop the farmer raises, the best article the manufacturer puts on the market, the best ware the merchant handles, the best case the lawyer pleads, the best sermon the minister preaches—or at least that which gives meaning to all of these—the child! "The fruit of all the past and the seed of all the future." God bless the home and God bless its best fruitage—the child!

THE CHURCH

Thus the home—God's simple yet mighty agent in His great work of developing the human race. Its work was accepted and for a time all went well. Such preparation, mostly physical, as the child needed for its future work the home gave without difficulty. But this simple life could not continue indefinitely. One of the fundamental principles of life absolutely forbade man's standing still. The laws of growth and development pushed him on. Whether he would or not, he was compelled to move forward, just as the acorn, obeying the law of its being, changes its form, its size, and adds to its complexity. Little by little man, obeying these inexorable laws, began to develop. His mental, his moral, and his physical natures gradually assumed new forms—new needs and desires were born. More and more his vision became expanded until he could see into and mesurably appreciate the forces of nature. His life was becoming more complex. Now, this larger life, this greater complexity of life, in addition to its own complexity, added materially to the work of preparing the child for playing its part in this great onward movement.

Such preparation as was needed by the child of the primitive home to equip it for playing its part as an adult would no longer suffice. The home must now do something more than satisfy the needs of the body—provide food, clothing, and shelter, and incidentally give opportunity to learn, mostly by imitation, how to do this for another generation of children. The spiritual life needed attention and, as well, the intellectual. Competition was growing keen, and each felt the need of a better equipment that he might play his part well in the larger life that was surely before him. And this larger outlook upon life was itself growing by what it was feeding upon and making its own demands for better things.

But the home was handicapped. It felt the need, but with all other things that it had to do, had no time to take up these new duties. And again, the most of the homes, even if time had been abundant, did not know how to do the new work. So it set about finding a solution to its problem. This was found in the principle of the division of labor. It was seen that time would be saved and results much more satisfactorily reached by delegating to persons definitely prepared and set aside for that purpose certain phases of this work. So the church was instituted and, a little later, the school. To the church was delegated, speaking broadly, the religious and moral development of the child and to the school, the intellectual development.

It was exactly the same principle that, later on, took from the home the weaving of cloth and the making of shoes and other industrial pursuits. With this added complexity of life, the homes could not profitably carry on all these varied activities—be, in addition to a home, also a tailor shop and a shoe factory, a church and a school. And so the homes of a community combined, selecting one man particularly adapted to that work to make all the shoes for the community, another the cloth, etc. And, in like manner, earlier in history, one was set aside to minister to the spiritual life, and one to teach the children. Both were offshoots of the home, delegated by the home to do a certain very definite portion of its work. Each took directions from the collective home and looked to it as the source of its authority. And such it was. The point is this: the home was the original educational institution and, as well, the original religious institution. At first it alone performed the work of all three: it was our home, our church, and school all in one. It finally established the others and merely delegated work to these supplemental agencies, so, at any time, it may withdraw that work from them. It is master of the situation. This withdrawal may be done either by the collective home or by any individual home. If any home represented here this evening, for any reason whatever, wishes to resume the religious function and alone direct the religious development of the children, no one can say it nay. And it is the same in regard to the school. If any parent here wishes to withdraw his children from the school and himself, either directly or indirectly, provide for their intellectual development, he has a perfect right to do so. Our compulsory attendance laws are satisfied when evidence is furnished of the child's advancement. Of course the church and the school, in this primitive stage, were both exceedingly crude—corresponding to the crude notions of religious and intellectual development then held by man, yet playing the same great part as now in the drama of life. I suppose it is true that these differentiations were at first only semi-conscious, but nevertheless they were real differentiations and had large influence upon the development of man.

To trace the development of the church thru its early stages is not necessary for the purpose of this address, so I pass at once to the establishment of the Christian church which is in reality our representative of the same fundamental institution. Like the home and the school, the church began in a very humble way, and during the progress of the centuries passed thru many vicissitudes and underwent many changes. Let me speak very briefly of four stages, or periods, of the history of the Christian church: first, the primitive stage, that period of about 350 years following its birth when, in the main, motives were pure, ambitions unselfish, and ideals high. But, tho it was founded to provide the means of securing the religious development of the child and the race thru the perpetuation and extension of the teachings of Christ, and tho it was launched forth into its great career in the spirit of love and meekness and fellowship that characterized His life, it was not long, as history counts time, before that worthy function was entirely lost sight of, that spirit wholly cast aside, and the new institution entered upon its second period, becoming a mere political machine which, in its utter disregard of rights and justice, in the shrewdness and daring of its schemes, and in the blackness of its methods, almost surpassed even our own most skilful efforts in those directions. "My kingdom is not of this world," Christ had said, and yet the church, founded upon His teachings and led by men pretending to be His true representatives, had become, in very deed, a kingdom of this world. The possession and use of worldly power by the church had so blunted its moral sense that Dante, in the early part of the fourteenth century, felt forced to exclaim, and exclaimed with truth:

"The Church of Rome, Mixing two governments that ill assort, Hath missed her footing, fall'n into the mire, And there herself and burden much defiled."

But Dante's criticism and other forces brought to bear drew back the erring leaders to some slight conception of their function and to some slight effort toward the performance of duty, tho neither conception nor performance took them back to their pristine merit. And the church entered another historical stage, the third, and one whose dominant thought and purpose prevails even up to modern times. Indeed, so recently has it passed that its dark outlines are even yet discoverable as we glance backward. In this new conception of the church and its work we find the function of the institution to be not religious development of the individual and of the race, as it had been at first, but merely technical salvation. And the institution may be pictured as a great lifeboat thrust out into the storm to save from destruction those who can be drawn within—while all others perish.

You remember the painting of the picture, foreground and background, how the emphasis was thrown upon the world to come! This world was not man's home. He was a sojourner here, a wanderer. His citizenship was in Heaven. He was a pilgrim passing thru a strange and weary land, and the only purpose of the pilgrimage was a preparation for the life to come. The nature of man himself was corrupt. The world around him was evil. Alone and unaided he was powerless. He was lost both for this world and the next. The storms of life were about him, the great waves were ready to engulf him. But the church, as a lifeboat, was thrust out into the breakers, and upon certain stipulated conditions was ready to take him in. The church was represented as having received direct from the hands of God "the keys of heaven and hell," and as being able to open the gates of a better world to all true believers. But true believers, you know, were no longer the pure followers of the crucified Christ, simply those who would accept the man-made dogmas of the church. No matter how full of error the church was, no matter how corrupt her leaders, there could be no safety outside of her fold. Accept the dogma, salvation was sure; once within, all was well. Religious development was not sought. The character of the life, previous or prospective, mattered not. Acceptance of the dogma was the only requirement. So she taught—having departed Oh! so far from her character and program when given existence by the home and started out on her beneficent work. And so tight had her grip become that none dared dispute her claims. The child had outgrown her mother, that is, the church had, in its own conception, outgrown the home, and it repudiated her control. Indeed, she held the keys—she was the ark of safety.

I have dwelt upon this because, with varying degrees of emphasis, that has been the conception of the church from medieval times almost to our own day. Indeed, I am not sure that it has entirely passed even at the present time. There are doubtless some people who continue thus to regard the church, and there is more than one branch of the institution whose definitely formulated statements of belief can be interpreted in no other way however much, as a practical fact, the members have departed from them.

There are some branches of the church that still teach that the child, newly born into the world, fresh from the hand of God, is already corrupt, prone to evil, of its own volition choosing evil in preference to good. And, believing that, they require the parents when presenting the babe at the altar for holy baptism, to affirm that that pure and innocent babe has inherited an evil and corrupt nature, and that it was conceived and born in sin. A monstrous doctrine, violating not only every parental instinct, but as well all the principles of psychology and ethics. Yea, verily, the Dark Ages are not yet wholly past! Yes, there are doubtless some who still look upon the church as a lifeboat, and who think that that lifeboat should offer safety and protection to those alone who already have on the life preserver. In other words, there are still some who seem to think that church membership should be granted only to those whose character and belief already assure them of abundant entrance into the heavenly kingdom and who, therefore, do not really need church membership.

But yet, on the whole, as a working conception, we have discarded the lifeboat idea and are now regarding the church rather as a great school, so to speak, in which all the children of men, thru the grace of God and mutual helpfulness, may gradually develop the Christian character and eventually come to be the very elect of God. No longer is it being regarded as merely an ark of safety, a lifeboat, ministering to the few, but as a great social beneficent institution shedding abroad upon all people its life-giving light and lifting all men nearer to God; true, giving her choicest blessings to those who come closest and partake most fully of her nature, but yet like the sun which shines upon all and both by direct and indirect rays warms and lightens all. Between the two views, what a contrast! And that change can not be better seen than by a contrast of the methods of work—the methods used to replenish the ranks, to offer the boon of membership to those deemed worthy or to those whom such boon could help.

The old evangelism—you remember its key-note, the old revival meeting, in which skilful word painting presented the two extremes, heaven and hell. And when the emotional nature was wrought up to the desired pitch and fear to the right degree, a choice was demanded,—conversion, it was called. The newer evangelism—Christian nurture in the home and school, and the various agencies of the church—is not as spectacular as the old. It doesn't make as much noise nor draw to itself so much attention. Nor do results so readily lend themselves to figures and tabulation. It does not bring about certain times when large accessions are made to the church membership, feeling rather that a continuous stream, tho smaller, indicates a more healthy growth. But it recognizes the fact that human nature is not necessarily depraved, that, on the other hand, the Christian life is the natural life and that the child under the sweet influences of the home and school and church passes naturally from one stage to another often not knowing when the transitions take place. Christian nurture—a continuous process—in which development is the key-note, not conversion, a sudden transformation, a terrible wrenching of the whole being, is the church's present method of growth. Oh! the old has not entirely gone—here and there we occasionally see evidences of its presence. Professional evangelism we call it to-day. I ran across it in a recent trip East. A big, barnlike structure had been erected which was called "the tabernacle." Its floor was of sawdust sprinkled on the ground. Here for about a month a professional evangelist had harangued the curious crowds in immoderate, and oftentimes immodest language. Wit and sarcasm and slang and emotion had been freely used in his efforts to make sinners "hit the sawdust trail," to use his own spectacular language, as well as to extort money from the pockets of the attendants. He left the town $5,000 richer than when he entered and also carried with him, as advertising material, a long list of so-called converts. A travesty on the sacred work of the church! But such methods are to-day the exception and not the rule, and the exceptions merely prove the rule.

And to-day church membership is graciously held out to all who need help in the work of perfecting character—to all who need assistance in leading the Christian life, as well as to those whose battles have already been fought and won. The question asked is no longer, "Have you attained?" but rather, "Do you wish to attain?" When an individual, child or adult, seeks entrance at the doors of an educational institution, the only condition imposed is assurance of his desire to be a learner. The doors swing open. And thank God the church is at last coming to the same position. And so we see her to-day well started upon the fourth stage of her development, accepting as her one great work that given her at birth so long ago—the religious development of the child and the race.

THE SCHOOL

The American school is a wonderful institution. In its absolute universality and impartiality, in its fine spirit of democracy both of teachers and pupils, there is nothing like it elsewhere in the world. It is a product of the genius of our people. Product? Yes, but, also, successively, the most influential cause of the genius of our people. From the first, in a somewhat remarkable degree, we have been a people knowing no social classes or distinctions. The caste idea, so prevalent in European countries, has ever been repugnant to us. And our schools, emanating from such a people, have had a powerful reflex influence in shaping the people and keeping those fine ideals ever before us. But let us go back and see whence it came—trace the connection between the complex, highly influential institution of to-day and the simple offshoot of the home of primitive times. Just when it was first instituted, nobody knows; but in essential features it is very ancient. Long before the beginning of the Christian era, as a supplementary agent of the home having in charge that one portion of its work, it was a well-recognized and highly esteemed institution.

I have already called attention to the great changes that have taken place in the home and in the church as the centuries have passed. The school likewise has changed, and is to-day as far removed from its original prototype as either of the others. It has changed because the home has changed, and in its changes has kept pace with the changing ideals and added complexities of home life. At the very first, only the essentials—teacher and boy—were present: no building, the great out-of-doors furnished the room and the friendly tree the only protection from sun and storm; no course of study, no book—the teacher was all in all. But this stage passed and the next, that continued so long and is more characteristic, followed. Here we find the building and the book as well as the teacher and the boy. The boy's one task is to transfer the contents of the book to his own mental storehouse and the teacher's function to see that the transfer is made. Knowledge was the main element of the child's preparation, that the home demanded of its school. And this often but ill-fitted him for the performance of the duties of life. This period continued for many centuries, down almost to the present time. But another and a greater followed—a period in which not merely knowledge was demanded as an outcome of the school's activities, but something else very different, including that, it is true, but finer and greater than that—something toward which they are the contributing agents—a somewhat harmonious development of the entire life—physical, mental, and moral.

Little by little, as time has passed, the home seems to have been throwing added burdens upon the school until now it sometimes looks as if the school is expected to give the entire preparation of the child—moral, physical, and manual, as well as mental. It sometimes seems as if the home had gone off on a vacation and left the school to do its work. Now, that statement implies a criticism of the home. On the other hand, it is frequently said by unfriendly critics of our public schools that the schools are all the time reaching out and, in a grasping way, more and more taking unto themselves the sacred rights and privileges of the home, even setting themselves up in authority over the home, aye, even alienating the affections of the children, making the home of none effect. Where does the truth lie? Has the home been so negligent of its duty, or has the school forgotten that it is the creature of the home? Which is the usurper? That is an interesting question. We can not go into it in detail, but let me suggest that it has all come about not so much from the unwarranted assumption of the school, nor the conscious and wilful neglect of the home as from the unconscious working out of a great principle fundamental in human development—namely, that the three phases of a child's life—the physical, the moral, and the intellectual,—can not be separately developed.

At first the home had the three lines of work. Soon it delegated two of them to other agencies and then, thru inexperience or thoughtlessness, made the fatal mistake of withdrawing supervision, assuming that no oversight was necessary. Unwise and short-sighted! No individual would thus deal with any other interest. The farm, the store, the financial interest of any kind, even the thing that ministers to the pleasure of life, often receives more personal attention from the parent than does the school. And this situation is not peculiar to our own day. When I was a boy, in another and distant state, we used to sing a song called "The Parent and the School." The various verses showed that parents were in the habit of visiting every other known place—the theater, the concert, the fair, the sea, the neighbors, and each verse closed with the refrain, "And why don't they visit the school?" They should, but they did not then, nor do they to-day. Somehow, all along the line, the home has seemed to think that if it should satisfy the physical needs of the child in providing food and clothing and shelter, the school should develop the intellectual and the church the moral natures in different places and at different times, and under different conditions, and that in some mysterious manner the three could become satisfactorily blended into a harmonious life. Impossible! The three natures are so clearly interrelated, each depends so much upon the others, that the separate and independent development of any one is impossible.

The spiritual depends upon the intellectual as the house rests upon the foundation. Its mental pictures, its concepts, its beliefs, come out of it, and are marred, misshapen, untrue, just to the extent to which that is faulty. Intelligence is necessary to religious belief and religious life. And the intellectual, in its foundation laying, can not stop short at that point any more than a plant can stop growing when its roots are well developed. The process once well begun is pushed on by the force from behind and must enter the higher realm. So I am not surprised that the school at times seems to be in charge of the entire work. And physical conditions have so much to do with success in both fields that they must be considered by both. The three processes are not only interrelated, they are interlaced, intertwined, as the strands of a braided cord. And just as the cord would be incomplete, just as it would lack strength, if any of the strands were to be omitted, or if the braiding were to be haphazard, so the life would be incomplete, one-sided, weak, should these three processes not go on side by side under the fostering care of an intelligent unifying agency. Indeed, if there is any one thing that has been demonstrated beyond the peradventure of a doubt by modern research in the physical and psychical realms, it is the significant fact that life is a unity. The physical, the intellectual, and the moral are like the three leaves of the clover. And just as with the clover we must apply the nourishment to the root and not to the separated branches, so with the child we must so select and use our educative material that the three-fold development shall result from the single application.

A simple illustration or two will help to make the point clear. All children study arithmetic in school. It is an intellectual activity and so clearly belongs to the school. Why do all study it? Because for the practical duties of life they need to know how to handle numbers. It is a practical study. Yes, but there is something else that the subject is supposed to yield or the extended time given to it could not be justified. It yields large fruitage in the development of the power of concentration and intellectual keenness. Yes, but better than that. All mathematical subjects, in that they require absolute accuracy and definiteness in their operations, are particularly helpful in developing those fine moral qualities of honesty, integrity, and upright dealing. Again, history is taught in the schools as an intellectual subject. In intellectual development alone it is worth all it costs. But over and above the value as a mental quickener it is to be placed as a builder of character, and ministering to the development of the moral and even the spiritual life. Nowhere else can the young so well learn that "righteousness exalteth a nation" and that "sin is a reproach to any people." In no other way so well as by the study of history can desired examples of noble character be placed before the young for imitation. Take but one other illustration, that of gymnastics and athletics—the entire program of play. For physical development? Yes, but in addition to that and finer than that, intellectual development of a high order thru the keener activity of the senses, the quicker and more accurate vision, the developed judgment, and finer discriminations. Yes, but better even than mere intellectual keenness there result from such activities the rare moral qualities of tolerance, respect for others, and self-control. And so I might go on and give illustration after illustration. It is not necessary. You catch my point. I am merely trying to demonstrate two facts: first, that the great breadth of the work of the school—embracing as it does, the development of the entire nature of the child, mental, moral, and physical, instead of merely the mental, that which was given her at first, is hers now not because of the home's neglect nor because the school has been unduly ambitious and grasping, but because we have come to see that life is a unity and can not be cut up into parts each separately developed. And secondly, I have tried to show that the school does interest itself in the moral life of the pupil. As a matter of fact, the school does more to develop morality and to lead toward a sane religious life than all other agencies combined. Our modern American school is a wonderful institution.

But in spite of the fact that the school is broad in its ministrations, it can not stand alone. All three institutions are needed. But the three must work together and in harmony and intelligently, each assisting the others. And one of the three must act as the centralizing, the unifying, the combining agency and bring order out of that which would otherwise be chaos by recognizing the value of each contribution of each of the others, assigning it to its proper place and thus aptly blending the work of the three. Now, which shall be the centralizing force? Really, is there any question? Must it not be the original institution—the home—the one which saw the need of the others and called them into being—the one upon which the responsibility finally rests? And even tho many individual homes are weak, wholly incapable of doing themselves all the varied kinds of work needed, yet the collective institution can and must act. And even the individual home, efficient or inefficient, should, much more than it does, thus act within the limits of its own jurisdiction and up to the limits of its own power.

And to whom does the school belong, anyway? To the Board of Education? Is it the private possession of the teachers? Does it exist to give teachers positions? Why, no, of course not. It is yours, and yours, and yours. They, both Board and teachers, are your servants, hired men and women, if you and they please—hired for pay to do your work, just as much as are the clerks in your stores, the harvest hands on the farms, or the maids in the kitchen. A different kind of work to be sure but, nevertheless, we are workmen for pay. And we need watching just as much as do the other workers. But let us put it in this way—we need intelligent, sympathetic co-operation, as an opportunity and as a spur for our best work and as a joy in it all—your constant kindly interest and your intelligent co-operation. I suppose that the situation is quite different in a city of this size from what it is in the large centers. I remember of talking, at one time, to an audience of teachers in a large city. I was astounded to learn that those teachers did not know, by sight even, the parents of one-half of their pupils, and many of them had been in the schools for a period of from three to four years. Whose fault was it? The teacher's or the parents? Why, what is the school? And whose is it? And what is it for? Whose fault was it? The question does not need an answer. It answers itself. But I urged those teachers to visit the homes—to become acquainted with the parents of their pupils so that they could know the atmosphere surrounding them and thus be better able to guide their development and minister to their varied needs. But I did not thus urge them because they had, up to that time, neglected their duty, rather because there seemed no prospect that the homes would embrace their opportunity and take the initiative.

I fancy that here in the smaller place where everybody knows everybody it is very different. Doubtless there is not a teacher here whose acquaintance has not been made by both parents of every child in her or his room. Probably there is not one who has not been entertained in every home represented in the room. This should be the situation not primarily because parents owe teachers such attention, not because any such social responsibility rests upon them, but rather because the relationship thus created gives parents the best possible opportunity to co-operate with the school in doing that portion of the home's great work. No, parents do not "owe" it to the teachers, rather do they "owe" it to their children and the next generation. I am urging this program because it is the only way by which you can get the most and best service from the schools.

It is true that parents may not understand all the subjects that are taught in the schools. Parents may not be acquainted with the methods of teaching so that they can be intelligent critics of schoolroom procedure. Never mind. That is not necessary. You do know boys and girls. Many of you could give us teachers valuable suggestions on the best ways of dealing with boys and girls. And there isn't one of you who could not assist the teacher in the work with your own children. And then there is another way to look upon it. It is altogether possible that this closer acquaintance with the school and with the teachers—with men and women who have made a careful, scientific study of boys and girls and of the art of teaching—it is altogether possible, I say, that this contact might react helpfully upon you and the home. You might possibly get suggestions from us that would help you in the home. The closer contact might be mutually helpful.

And so, in this necessarily hurried manner we have passed in review these three great age-old yet very modern institutions—the home, the church, and the school. We have seen whence each has arisen, have noted the pathway trod, and caught a glimpse of its present-day function. And the close relationship, too, must have become plain as we passed along. No one of the three, we have seen, could stand alone. Each depends upon both the others and likewise lends them both assistance. For sane, all-round, constructive work in any one field, the contributions of all are seen to be needed.

Let us, therefore, take an account of stock, as the business man says, and note our individual attitude and responsibility. As representing the home, let us look upon the other two as creatures of our own building still requiring direction and fostering care. Let our attitude toward them be neither patronizing nor coldly critical. As representing the church and the school, let us not forget the source of our being. We should not ignore the home nor attempt to dominate it. Let us, rather, seek to carry out its program, rendering a good account of our stewardship. Thus and thus only can the great work originally entrusted to the home be accomplished.



VI

NOBLESSE OBLIGE

A Convocation Address delivered at the University of North Dakota, January 29, 1916

There is no audience before which a speaker should have greater reason for apprehension than an audience made up largely of university students. There is no audience for which a speaker should more carefully choose his thoughts and the words for their expression than a university audience, nor one more worthy of earnest treatment. On the other hand, there is no audience that a speaker can address more inspiring than an audience made up of young men and women in the heyday of young life preparing for better and larger usefulness.

All this is true because there is no other audience that can be gathered together whose future work can begin to compare, in far-reaching consequences, in possibilities for usefulness, with that of such an audience. There is no other company of people of equal number within whose keeping there is more of potential weal or woe for coming generations. And these things are true because university students of to-day are the world's leaders of to-morrow.

This is not so trite a saying as the one that declares that the boys and girls of one generation are to be the men and women of the next, but it is just as true and just as significant. Indeed, I suppose it can not be called a trite saying in the true sense of the term. It has not been uttered so many times, is not now being used so commonly, as to indicate its universal acceptance. It is not so obviously true as to preclude challenge and argument. It is my purpose very briefly to examine the statement and from the conclusion reached connect the same with the thought of a beautiful proverb that has come down to us thru a long lapse of years—Noblesse Oblige—our privileges compel us.

So far as I know there is no way of seeing the future save thru a study of the facts of the past and the indications of the present. The university students of a generation ago—where are they to-day? Positions of leadership to-day—filled by whom?

Exhaustive and thoroly satisfactory statistics are not at hand, but such as we have speak eloquently in favor of the statement in question. Practically our only reliable statistics touching the matter are gathered from our biographical cyclopedias. A few years ago a very interesting study was made of the data found in the current issue of Who's Who in America. This book, you know, is made up of short biographies of such persons living at the time in the United States as have become real factors in the progress and achievement of the age, in other words, of men recognized as leaders in thought and action in the educational, political, military, and business realms.

Of the whole number mentioned in the issue studied educational data were given of 11,019. Of that number 1,111 had enjoyed only elementary school advantages; 1,966 had added to these only the advantages of secondary education, but 7,942 had come from the colleges and universities. In other words, more than 72% of these leaders are shown to have received their final preparations for leadership within college walls.

Figures as interesting have been gathered thru a use of Appleton's Cyclopedia of Biography. A few years ago careful study was made of an edition just then out and it was found that of the college graduates of America one out of every forty had gained sufficient distinction to merit recognition in that cyclopedia, whereas only one out of 10,000 non-graduates, the public at large, had received such distinction. In other words, the college graduate had 250 chances to the other man's one for achieving leadership.

Moreover, the higher institutions of learning have furnished every one of the Chief Justices of our Supreme Court, 75% of our Presidents, 70% of the membership of our two highest courts, and more than 50% of all our Congressmen. The last state-men is very significant when one recalls our method of selecting Congressmen—our political machinery and its devious modes of working. I have no authentic data of other fields, but all that one needs to do to satisfy himself practically as to other details is to call to his service his own knowledge of the general situation. In the communities with which you are acquainted, among the people whom you know either personally or by reputation, what are the facts? Who are the leaders? Where college people are found, are they leaders or followers?

There are exceptions, of course. There come to you at once the names of men, a few of them, who, thru the exercise of their own inherent strength, unaided by college or university, have risen to deserved greatness. I have only to mention the names of our immortal Lincoln, or England's present David Lloyd George, in the field of statesmanship, or of Lord Strathcona or Sir William Van Horne, or James J. Hill, railroad kings and empire builders, in the business world, or of Luther Burbank, in the realm of science, to make the fact of exceptions perfectly clear. But they are exceptions—that's the point—and exceptions merely prove the rule.

And even as to the few it is scarcely necessary to say that their positions, tho of leadership, are, generally speaking, subordinate ones, they themselves even while leading in certain limited fields, are following the leadership of others in broader fields which include their own—and the ones followed are they of the broader training. This is especially true of men who have achieved success in the business world or in the political field. Their success, their leadership, is often more seeming than real,—depending as it does upon their advisers—broadly educated men. Take Lord Strathcona, for example, or Mr. Hill, as typical illustrations; with all their far-sightedness and their recognized ability, what could they have done, even in their own field of activity, had it not been for the trained physicist, the skilled chemist, and the engineer—products of the university—who gave them their rails, built their bridges, designed their engines, and in many ways made it possible for them to realize their dreams? They would have been powerless. Tho leaders, they followed, and their kind always will follow, the university student. They may hire this student and pay him his wage, but they are still indebted to him for leading them onward and upward.

From a hasty survey, therefore, which, however, I am satisfied would yield the same fruitage no matter to what extent pushed, our statement seems to be justified.

But let us look at it from another point of view. How is the matter regarded by those of the present time most deeply interested in the future well-being of man and of the nations of the world? By those people and those forces who feel the responsibility of providing leadership for the next generation? What steps are being taken to reach the end—to provide the leaders? On any hypothesis other than the one assumed in my initial statement can you account for the lavish expenditure for the endowment and maintenance of higher institutions of learning that so characterize our generation? From one side to the other of our broad land, aye, from distant lands and from the isles of the sea comes the same testimony: benevolent individuals seem to vie with one another in the munificence of their gifts for higher education. Even soveren states and great nations, under the guidance of far-seeing leaders, are planting these institutions and, in a truly generous manner, providing for their present and future needs.

That the college is the only source from whence can come our supply of leaders is a real conviction in the minds of men the world over, is shown by a recent incident in war-stricken Europe. It was only a few months ago and during the terrible campaign in Eastern Poland, even while shells were bursting and men were dying, that the Central Powers stopt, as it were, in the mad rush of wanton destruction, to re-establish and reorganize the old University of Warsaw. More than that, they added to the old institution two new faculties, or colleges, as we would call them.

Strange, isn't it? In the incident I can see but this logic: a recognition of the fact that, with the forces of destruction reaping such an awful harvest, their civilization was doomed unless some step could be taken, not, primarily, to check the present war but rather to provide, at its close, an adequate supply of leaders. That seemed to them the only way to prevent a permanent impoverishment and a dropping back into a state of, at least, temporary semi-barbarism as was so common during the early Middle Ages under analogous circumstances. And the step taken by those shrewd, coldly-calculating war lords was the strengthening of the forces of higher education. One reason why, during the Middle Ages, there was this frequent dropping back is the fact that this relationship between leadership and education was not recognized.

Under the powerful impulse of this conviction, namely, that the well-equipt college as a part of the broad university community is the only source of leadership, men and states and provinces and nations are sacrificing for higher education as never before. New institutions are being founded and old ones strengthened. Magnificent buildings are being erected with seemingly little thought of cost provided only that they serve their purpose. Libraries so thoroly equipt as to leave nothing desired, laboratories unsurpast in completeness, vast gymnasiums containing every possible apparatus for bodily development, and other facilities of every kind and description, all irrespective of cost, are daily being added. And better than buildings and grounds, more vital than equipment and endowment, are the trained minds and pure hearts that, in ever increasing numbers, are being freely offered on the same shrine. Abilities, and training, and attainments that in the world of business would yield their possessors independent fortunes, or in the fields of authorship or politics result in honor and fame, are here freely offered. The material return rendered for such service is the merest pittance absolutely needed for family support, and the immaterial, but one's enshrinement in the heart of an occasional grateful student plus the consciousness of having done one's duty. Can such a generous outpouring of material and spiritual treasures be accounted for on any hypothesis other than a recognition of the great world's needs and a firm belief that those needs can be best satisfied thru an educated leadership? Nay, verily, all these things are being done because the best thought of the day feels, both instinctively and with reason, that only thus can the kingdom of God come among men.

What unique, important, and responsible position the State or Provincial University occupies among civic institutions! What splendid opportunities for usefulness are his who is the executive head of such an institution! Aye, and what weighty responsibilities rest upon him! Fellow teachers, what manifold opportunities for usefulness are yours, and what weighty responsibilities rest upon you by virtue of the fact that you are teachers in such an institution! And my message to you is the same as to the student body—Noblesse Oblige! Freely have you received, freely must you give. Tho the state does not, nor ever can, adequately pay you for your best services, still you must not falter. You must continue to live up to your own high ideals of your noble profession. The very acceptance of such positions in such an institution carries with it the obligation of performance—Noblesse Oblige!

But who are these college and university students who have such a large and important future before them and for whose training and development, because of that future, such elaborate preparations are being made? The university man—who and what is he? Likewise the university woman? Let us answer the question simply and briefly by merely saying that, tho sometimes rude and crude because immature and undeveloped, they are yet the keenest, the brightest, the most far-seeing, the most promising young men and women of the land. They are the choice souls found, one here, another there, one in the hamlet and another on the farm, one in the city and another on the prairie, one in a palace, another in a sod house. They are a picked lot selected not only from the so-called upper ranks of thought and action, but as well from the highways and by-ways of our broad land, chosen because of intellectual strength and moral fiber, because of high ideals and lofty purposes; chosen by themselves, it may be true, but chosen nevertheless, thru their equipment of mind and heart. The very fact that you are here and others are not is testimony sufficient to your greater worth. Exceptions, to be true, there are, but none too many prove the rule. I am not saying these things in a spirit of flattery, not at all. I am merely stating facts, and thru these facts trying to help you catch the vision—to see your opportunity and accept the responsibilities. But note the significance—those already best equipt by the superior quality of their brain matter and of their mental fiber and of their moral nature and who therefore without further preparation would easily distance the others, are here giving themselves even better equipment. There can be no question as to the relative position of the two classes in the years to come—the one class is to furnish the leaders, the other the followers. The one is to form the ideals, to set the standards, to decide upon policies, to mark out courses, the other to try to reach the goals set. The two classes may be equally good morally, equally worthy of respect and honor because equally faithful in the performance of duties suited to their tastes and abilities, but yet, from the very nature of things, the one going ahead, the other following behind. And in the years to come your competitors will be not from among the non-college men and women—you have already put yourself out of their reach—but from among those who, like yourselves, ambitious for better and greater things, are to-day, in this and other similar institutions, using every means, straining every nerve, to attain the highest possible degree of efficiency for future service. You are not only to be leaders, but in some way you seem to know it instinctively and to be putting yourselves in a state of readiness.

But does some one raise the objection that this theory of leadership does not seem to be in harmony with the spirit and genius of our American institutions; that under a democratic form of government all are equal; that all men, irrespective of intellectual attainment, share equally, not only before the law but in the very making of law; that in America all men are rulers? All this is true theoretically and, to a certain extent, practically, but it does not lessen the need of efficient leadership; it increases that need, or, at any rate, it makes it necessary that the number capable of efficient leadership be greatly increased. The very fact that all have a voice in the government, that all do share, consciously and potently, in its exercise and in its responsibilities, speaks more loudly than anything else can of the need of wise leadership. If the great mass of people were not factors, they would not have to be taken into account. They might need drivers but not leaders. But being factors and yet, in the main, not being capable of adequate analysis of our most complex and highly intricate problems, they must be provided with safe and efficient leaders. I believe in the honesty, in the good intentions, and in the good sense of the common people. But I do not believe in their ability to detect relations, to draw wise conclusions, and to formulate policies touching the complicated political, social, and economic conditions of our times.

It is a well-recognized fact that, as some one has said, "speaking broadly, the striking disadvantage under which a democracy labors, as contrasted, let us say, with certain types of autocracy, lies in its inability to plan effectively with reference to remote goals.... What we call 'far ahead' thinking is difficult for the individual, but it is vastly more difficult for the group, and its difficulty is intensified in both cases if it demands large measures of present sacrifice." No, democracy must be led. Leaders they must have. If honest and disinterested ones are not at hand, selfish and dishonest ones will be accepted. I grant that leadership is not the greatest need of democracy, that, of course, is a higher level of knowledge and intelligence, but I do claim that leadership is, and always will be, the greatest present need of democracy, since it is only thru that leadership that the higher intelligence can be reached, without loss, and in the shortest possible time.

But again, do you point out certain great victories of the common people, so-called, when they have risen in the power of their might and, in the exercise of their right, have put down men who had assumed the right to lead them and were leading them astray? Do you point to the State of Missouri of a decade ago, and to New York City again and again, and to England a generation ago, as illustrations? True, in all these cases and in many others, notable victories had been gained by and for the people. But is it not also true that in every such case the people won victories because wisely led? Think you that corruption and violation of law would have been so checked in Missouri a decade ago and the breakers of law been so thoroly punished, had it not been for the clear-headed work of that fearless, public-spirited Joseph W. Folk? Does not Charles S. Whitman come to your mind when the great struggle in New York City is mentioned? And Hiram W. Johnson in California? And when we recall the victories of the people in our own Motherland across the sea, do we not have at once a mental picture of the "Grand Old Man," William Ewart Gladstone? Had it not been for these leaders or others who might else have taken their places, half of the people whose votes helped win the victories would never have known that there were such victories to win. They would never have realized the extent to which they were being wronged and mis-ruled.

Certain conditions were not quite satisfactory. All people felt, half unconsciously, that rights were not being respected, that justice was not being done—that something was wrong somewhere—but that was about all, about as far as they went or could go. But these leaders, who, in years gone by, in the colleges and the universities, had been trained to search for causes, to see relations, and to draw conclusions, had scented danger from afar. And to the task of ferreting out the evil and of finding remedies they devoted the strength of their splendidly equipt minds and the purity of their strong hearts. Following up the lead of surface manifestations they finally unearthed corporate greed, political domination, and Satanic selfishness in such kinds and amounts as to be really appalling. But they did not stop there—they searched for remedies and then went before the people and told them a plain simple tale of what they had found—of how grossly the people were being wronged—and they outlined programs of reform. The people believed them; they rallied to their standards, accepted their leadership, and won the victories. And such victories, in greater or less degree, are being won all over the land, thank God! And back of every one of them you can find, if you search, a smaller or larger edition of Folk, Whitman, or Gladstone.

And how about the future? Are all the victories won? No more such work to do? Ah! the question does not need an answer. Then who are to be the leaders? Why not you? and you? and you? Depend upon it, they are going to be college men and college women, and who more capable or worthy than yourselves?

There are two ways in which I want you young people to look upon this matter; in the first place, from the point of view of your own personal interests. Here are opportunities for advancement, openings the filling of which will bring to you worldly success, and honor and fame. Both by natural endowment and by special training you are fitted for the work. Seize, then, the opportunities and make the most of them, because the world and they that dwell therein belong to him who knows how to use them. From one point of view this is perfectly legitimate, and I urge it. It is not only one's right but one's duty to make the most of himself—to advance his own interests. The program becomes censurable only when it absorbs all else—when one's own interest is sought at the expense of the interest of other people instead of in connection with it or as a step in its realization.

Now, the other way in which I want you to regard the matter is from the point of view of the interests of the people at large. Let me put it like this: here is your body politic, the people of North Dakota, 600,000 strong, or, better yet, the people of the United States, some hundred million in number, partners in ownership of our magnificent country, co-laborers in its administration, and sharers in the work of their own government and in the working out of their destinies—each with a share and an influence and each expected to participate. But so complicated are the matters needing consideration, so difficult of solution many of the problems arising, and so infinitely vast the whole undertaking that the great majority of the people, thru either immaturity or lack of training, often do not know what is best to do. And again, skilful manipulators, dishonest self-seekers, are ever at hand with plausible theories calculated to befog the untrained, deceive the unsuspecting, and to lead them all astray. Taking everything into consideration, the situation is extremely difficult. In a plain word, these untrained people, the product of the elementary schools, can not see far enough ahead to know that oftentimes the policy that seems most attractive is full of danger for the future. They are not qualified to weigh, and estimate, and decide. But there is a class among them, college-bred men and women, a small class, relatively, that is qualified. Thru long years of study, and investigation, and reflection, in institutions freely provided and generously maintained by the people now in need, they have attained such a knowledge of affairs and such an ability to cope with intricate problems as to make them efficient leaders—leaders capable of guiding aright the noble ship of state thru difficult and tortuous channels beset, on every side, by dangerous rocks and calamitous whirlpools. And among that class of efficient leaders you, young men and young women of the University of North Dakota, will soon be numbered. How shall you respond to the call of duty? Your State, by virtue of what she has done and is now doing for you, has a right to expect unselfishness and unstinted service in her own interests and in those of mankind. Shall she get it? Will you rise to the occasion and, even at a sacrifice of personal comfort, ease, esthetic enjoyment, money, give to her what is her due? Will you remember Noblesse Oblige? Of course you will. For there is a well-established principle, clearly stated in Holy Writ and sanctioned by the ages, that of those to whom much hath been given, much will also be required. Noblesse Oblige—your privileges compel you.

Because the theory of the old motto, "Paucis vivat humanum genus," "for the few live the many," is no longer maintained. The many do not live for the few. The reverse is true. The few live for the many. But yet, the service is not unrewarded—only a portion of the reward has come first. In your equipment you are being paid in advance. David Starr Jordan has happily clothed the thought in these words: "It is in the saving of the few who serve the many that the progress of civilization lies. In the march of the common man, and in the influence of the man uncommon who rises freely from the ranks, we have all of history that counts."

And here I might stop. But a general statement, more or less abstract, needs practical illustration: the "how," the "when," and the "where" are perfectly legitimate questions for you to ask. Let us then throw a hasty glance upon some of the great activities that claim men's attention, and discover some of the openings awaiting you.

The teaching profession will draw heavily upon your ranks—that profession, full and rich in opportunities for usefulness beyond any and all others, is more and more looking for you, and waiting impatiently for your full equipment and thoro readiness. All of the higher positions must come to you and others like you. No others are, or will be, adequately prepared. In nearly all of our states the legal requirement for a high school teacher and, of course, for the high school principal and city superintendent is the completion of a full four-year college course including a certain specified amount of professional work. In some of the states, indeed, the requirement is of a full year beyond the undergraduate course, or the possession of a Master's degree, with the emphasis of this added year thrown upon the subjects to be taught and the manner of handling the same.

So the facts are borne upon us that the desk of the high school principal, the office of the city superintendent, the chair of the college professor, the position of college and university president, is soon to be offered you. Are you ready for it? ready in academic equipment? ready in professional attainment? And are you equally well prepared in that even finer element—the possession of your soul by the spirit of Noblesse Oblige?

I can not say, of course, to which of you here to-day a college presidency is to be offered, nor the professor's chair, nor any other specific position. Nor can I say just when the offer will come. But I can say, and with assurance, that all these positions and all others of leadership in the educational field will be offered to college men and college women, and in all probability as soon as they are well ready for them. Moreover, it can doubtless be said that they will be apportioned fairly on the basis of merit and fitness. And then you will have in your hands the shaping of the destinies of a great free people with all the emoluments, the opportunities, and the responsibilities that should accompany a work of such moment.

And the Gospel ministry can no longer look elsewhere. If it is to continue to wield its mighty influence for good, and to play its magnificent role of leadership in our developing civilization, especially among our rapidly increasing educated classes, it must more and more come into its rightful inheritance, so long withheld, of that broader conception of brotherhood and Christianity that forgets the letter of the law in magnifying its spirit—that puts life before dogma and character before creed. And this, fellow students, can never be without the broad university equipment.

We have traveled far during these latter years. And no longer do we consider it sufficient that the minister of the Gospel know merely his Bible and his theology. In addition to these, aye, as a basis for these, it is now demanded (that is, if he be accorded a position of real leadership among thinking people) that he know as well his history and his sociology, his psychology and his biology, and indeed that he be acquainted with all the fields of human knowledge. Not only that, he must know life as it is lived to-day, and the thoughts and emotions of men as they are manifested in the give and take of actual life. And none of these can be obtained within the narrow confines of the old theological seminary. The modern university is the only institution in which the minister of the future can get it all and get it in the right order and in the correct admixture. In the laboratories, the libraries, and the classrooms he will delve deeply into the realms of science, literature, and art, and there and on the campus, in its varied activities, touch hands and exchange thoughts with the future lawyer, teacher, physician, engineer, business man, what-not, and thus gain tolerance, humility, catholicity of spirit, and the spirit of true democracy.

Thus circumstanced during his preparatory years, he will go out capable of seeing things in their proper perspective. That's the kind of man that the ministry is calling to-day, and the call will be louder and more incessant as the years pass and the education of the people progresses. That's the kind of man we already have in some of our leading pulpits, and they are exerting a tremendous influence in all departments of life. But the supply is limited. There's not enough to go around. Many more are needed. Our universities must furnish them. Will this institution do its share? Will some of you young men, with your well-trained bodies, with your finely-disciplined minds, with your highly-cultured natures, with that fine balance of powers that means so much and that can accomplish so much for the world if thus used—will you turn aside from the beaten path that would be sure to lead to fame and power and worldly success and enter the more difficult but more useful field of the Christian ministry for the simple purpose of serving mankind? You are the kind of men we want, and I am sure that you will not disappoint us.

And so I might go on, did time permit, and point out attractive and responsible openings in many different activities—the fields of engineering and journalism, the professions of medicine and law, the great world of business, even politics (should I not say, rather, and especially politics?). It is not necessary to go farther into detail. You catch my thought. In one and all of these, positions of leadership are calling loudly for men and women of large knowledge, of trained minds, of broad outlook, and of splendid visions; and these characteristics are the fruitage of nothing less than the broad and comprehensive foundations laid in the college and the university. And you who have them are, by the very fact of possession, under obligation to use them for the public weal. How is it, young man, young woman? Are you going to mesure up to the twentieth century standard? Will you carry with you from this hall when you leave to-day, and from this institution when she honors you with her diploma, and out into the great activities of life,—will you carry with you, I ask, and make the basis of your actions in life, the thought of these two little words that have been engaging our attention this morning—Noblesse Oblige?



VII

IMPROVEMENTS IN OUR PUBLIC SCHOOLS

A Paper read before the Commercial Club of Grand Forks, North Dakota, January 24, 1911, and printed in the Grand Forks "Daily Herald," January 29, 1911

In accepting an invitation to speak upon the topic assigned, "Improvements in Our Public Schools," I come not as a hostile critic, not even as an impartial observer viewing and commenting upon something belonging to another. Rather, I come as a sympathetic friend to talk about an institution in which I am vitally interested and of whose good work I am proud. Indeed, I am to discuss a great business industry, if you please, in which you and I are joint stockholders and for whose success we are alike responsible. And, too, I have been for so many years a teacher and so closely connected with educational work that I feel akin to every other man and woman engaged in that occupation. Knowing how easy it is to make mistakes and thus fall short of attaining our high ideals in this most trying and most difficult work, I am temperamentally inclined to magnify the difficulties and to overlook the shortcomings of educational workers. To be sure, in speaking upon "Improvements," I am admitting that improvements are possible. But the best friend of a person or an institution is one who talks frankly and honestly, admitting weaknesses, if such there be, and suggesting assistance. Such an attitude can not well be interpreted as a criticism either of men or mesures.

A gentleman met me on the street a day or two ago and said, "I understand that you are going to find fault with our schools next Tuesday night. What for? I want you to understand that our schools are all right. Let well enough alone." A few days ago one of the local papers said of the schools, "The public schools of Grand Forks are recognized as the finest in the Northwest and the school system is up-to-date in every respect."

And that idea seems to be chronic. Such expressions are common in our papers and from many of our people. The impression sought to be given is doubtless that of "Let well enough alone," or "Hands off." Now, Mr. Chairman, while this feeling clearly betokens a general confidence in the management of the schools of which those directly in charge may well take pride, nevertheless, it is not an altogether healthy condition of affairs.

While I believe in a wise conservatism as against an unthinking radicalism, I am in no sense of the term a "stand-patter." The individual who has earned this picturesque title, I care not whether in the halls of Congress or in the ranks of the educators, is a foe to progress. A "stand-patter" is such because he is in a rut and either too lazy or too corrupt to get out.

Things ought not to remain long as they are in any business, in any enterprise, in any institution. Civilization never stands still. The most dangerous attitude of mind that a man can hold is that of complacency, that of perfect satisfaction with things as they are. The good is always a foe to the best.

No, gentlemen, our schools are not "up-to-date in every respect," not altogether the "finest" in the great Northwest. The Northwest, you know, is a pretty big place and has some pretty enterprising towns. But no individual town has, in all respects, the finest schools in the Northwest, or in any other place. Our schools are, like those of other cities, just a good strong average. Like every other system, it contains some good teachers and some not so good; some up-to-date methods of instruction are being used and some which should be improved; some features there are to be strongly commended and some, doubtless, that should be discontinued. And more than this, gentlemen, you have no right to demand, or expect, from your Superintendent and your Board of Education. They will be the very first to endorse all that I have admitted above. Indeed, that they do not hold that exaggerated opinion is clearly apparent from the fact that they are even now considering improvements. And may the day never dawn when we shall see no needed improvements for our public schools! Should such a time come, it would simply mean that in matters educational our eyes have become dimmed and that we are rapidly falling behind.

Had the men of this city been "stand-patters" touching the city, Grand Forks would not be to-day what it is—the surprise and the admiration of every intelligent visitor. Were you men here to-night, in your civic relationship, "stand-patters," the promise of the future would be less bright than it is. During my early connection with Grand Forks I often wondered as to the secret of its enterprise. I was not long in discovering, however, that it was found in the spirit of this Commercial Club; a spirit, it is, of hope, of civic pride, of optimism, yet a spirit of almost divine discontent. You have all the time been proud of your city, but yet not satisfied with it; not satisfied, because you saw visions of a finer city into which yours might grow. Your city was not up-to-date—to help make it so you needed a street railway system; what did you do? Worked for it and—got it. Not yet up-to-date? A great auditorium was needed; you put your hand into your hip-pocket and lo! it arises in, what was it, thirty days? The goal not even yet in sight? No, because better pavement was imperative—and it came. Still something lacking? An up-to-date street lighting system—you put some of your men to work on it and it is now our pride and our neighbors' despair. And so I might go on, I do not need to. Only let me say that it will be a sad day for Grand Forks when we shall think that we have really reached the goal—when there is not something toward which we are striving.

I am glad that, in this same spirit, you have now turned your gaze to the school house. Let us apply there the same principle of free, intelligent discussion and hearty, generous co-operation, each trying to outdo the other in loyalty and generous support, hoping, eventually, to make our schools the "finest in the Northwest," and "up-to-date in every respect."

But this is a pretty big subject for treatment in an after-dinner talk of from 15 to 20 minutes. It involves so much, embracing within its scope, as it may, everything from finance to theology. The very function of the school, in the large, might well be considered under such a topic, and scores of details. I might well talk upon the education of teachers as I do before my classes, or upon educational psychology—vital subjects all, but scarcely appropriate here. It is, indeed, a large and interesting subject, lots of places to catch hold. Manifestly, I can treat it only superficially. All that I can do is merely in the line of suggestion, trying to direct your attention to some of the general features, somewhat objective in character.

The first suggestion I have to make is along this very line—the greatness, the many-sidedness of the educational problem and the need of general community intelligence in regard to it. Indeed, there are many aspects of the school work, countless number of details touching books, courses of study, immediate and remote ends, as well as the larger philosophical bases, in which the public is deeply interested but imperfectly informed. Many a parent is ignorant as to what the schools are trying to do, and why? Not comprehending the end in view, unintelligent as to the means being used, and with little time or ability to investigate, friction often arises. The public and its educational system, the homes and the schools, the teachers and the parents, should in some way be brought closer together and an opportunity given for their mutual understanding. There are various ways in which this opportunity is given in different places: thru mothers' meetings, in some; thru home and school societies, in others; thru the establishment of what some call "visiting days," in others, etc. Great good is sure to result from a systematic use of any one of them.

But we in Grand Forks are a very busy people; clubs and societies without number claim our attention and secure our membership; public meetings for the discussion of charities, health, morals, foods, etc., saying nothing about church and social demands, are already taking us too often from homes in the evening, so that I hesitate to suggest another such activity even in the interests of so important a matter as the public schools. But believing very firmly as I do that the largest success of our schools can be secured only thru a cordial co-operation of the homes and the schools, and believing also that this co-operation rests upon intelligence as to the aims of the schools and the means that are being used, I am going to suggest a way of meeting the difficulty—namely, the utilization of another educational agency of large influence and philanthropic spirit—I refer to the Press. It is not my purpose to present here an extended eulogy of the Press. That is not necessary. You all know what a mighty factor it is in shaping public opinion. I merely call attention to the fact that it is an educational institution; that it appeals not, as do the schools, to the children, but to the parents of the children: and then that in Grand Forks it goes into almost every home in the city. I suggest that this agency be used to bring about a frank, open discussion, and therefore a better understanding, of the function and the work of our public schools—local, state, and national. For our people, in addition to being busy, are both intelligent and enterprising. They know the value of the Press. They are great readers. I have been surprised, again and again, at the large circulation enjoyed by both our enterprising dailies. I have also been surprised to know how closely all our people keep in touch with local happenings chronicled there. An educational column in one or both of the local papers in which the work of the schools, from taxation to lead pencils, could be discust, would be an innovation of great value. An open forum, so to speak, it might be, in which questions could be asked and answered, and also contributions made from the larger field of educational effort. Of course I do not suggest this as a place for the airing of personal feelings, of petty details, of minor matters, rather, an opportunity for discussing with and for an intelligent and enquiring people great educational questions, fundamental principles, and broad, humanitarian policies. All such matters, because fundamental in the development of civilization and because of universal interest, should and could be handled with frank simplicity. Such a discussion, constructive in character, could not fail of doing great good—of being very helpful to teachers and parents alike.

Another suggestion that I want to make and an improvement that I am going to urge touches very closely the matter of efficiency of systems of education. Now, the efficiency of an educational institution or of a system of schools is often mesured by the success of those completing its course of study—of those profiting, to the full, by all that it offers. That is the point of view taken by those people who so greatly praise the work of the old district school of our boyhood days, "back East." They point to this man and that one, men who have achieved eminent success, whose only "schooling," perhaps, was received in the "little red school house" and therefore claim that it was a great institution for the making of men. But therein lurks a fallacy. Great men have issued from the "little red school house," it is true, but they became great not because of, but in spite of, the fact that the school house was "little" and was "red." In pointing to such men as these, as products, they forget the great silent multitude of boys and girls who were in the same "little red school house" but who were never heard of after they emerged. The pathetic feature of the old district school was the great number of children who fell by the wayside. And so, to-day, no educational institution should be rated as to efficiency by considering the success merely of those completing its courses. To form a correct estimate we must consider as well all those who entered and dropt out before completion.

No system of schools is really efficient in which any considerable percentage of the children drop out before completing the elementary course of study. No system of schools is satisfactorily efficient which is so managed as to require, or even allow, any considerable percentage of the children to repeat grades, that is, to fail of promotion, making it necessary to go over the work the second time. Or, to put it in other words, in which any considerable percentage of the children are doing work in grades lower than their ages would suggest.

This is the matter of retardation of which we are hearing so much in these days, and in regard to which Grand Forks, as well as other cities, suffers. In my judgment, there are two main causes of retardation: poor teaching and physical defects of the children. There are two ways by which satisfactory teaching can be secured: in the first place, by securing the best teachers available, and this, I am very sure, our Board of Education and our superintendent always try to do. In the second place, by improving the quality of work thus secured thru expert supervision on the part of the superintendent and the principals of the various schools. And this I am sure is not done to the extent that it might be were matters differently arranged. If another suggestion that I shall make later on is adopted, however, provision will be made for this improvement.

Physical defects on the part of the children I named as the second cause of retardation. And the remedy for the major portion of this cause is found in my next suggestion—medical inspection of our school children.

Estimating the conditions in Grand Forks on the basis of what has been discovered in many other places in which medical inspection is in operation, from 25% to 80% of the children in our schools are suffering from physical defects of some sort that interfere, to a greater or less degree, with the work of the school. There is no doubt in the minds of well-informed people that here is found a very fruitful cause of retardation, as seen both in grade-failure and in early dropping out of school. And very many of these defects are removable and, therefore, the retardation preventable.

Now, the only seemingly valid reason that I have ever heard urged against the employment of the school physician is that of expense. It does cost something, I'll admit. All good things do. The necessary expense, however, is often overestimated. But let us see if we are not, even in hesitating at the expense, whatever it may be, wholly illogical. The city assumes the duty of educating the young, but if many of the young are not in a condition to receive that education, should we not logically see that the hindrances are removed? We enact compulsory attendance laws; should we not, where necessary, make it possible for the physically defective as well as others, to profit by such attendance? Otherwise, are we not wasting money?

I have mentioned the expense, but there are two ways of looking at that. I am now going to advocate medical inspection as an economic mesure—as a money saver. Every child who repeats a grade is costing the city more than it should for its education. That is clearly apparent. How much that amounts to, in the aggregate, in Grand Forks, I do not know. But it is probably no small item. I have no doubt that, in the long run, the saving would pay the school physician. And then we should be clearly ahead in all the years saved by the various children, as well as the greater happiness and usefulness directly resulting from the improved situation. On the whole, it seems to me and to many others with whom I have talked that the next step forward that we should ask our Board of Education to take is the adoption of medical inspection.

Another phase of the subject to which I desire to call your attention is that of the superintendency. And it isn't exactly like the old maid sister telling the mother of half a dozen lusty boys how to bring them up because, in addition to spending years in the study and teaching of educational matters, I have occupied the superintendent's office and tried to do his work.

Historically, the superintendent of schools represents a development from the Board of Education, not from the teaching body. Originally, he was looked upon as the business manager of the Board, rather than an educator by profession. Quite specifically, he was, at first, often one of the regularly elected members of the Board, designated by the Board to attend to the details of the work, to keep the educational machine properly oiled, his selection seldom being dictated by any particular qualification of a professional character.

But in this matter of education as in other matters, great changes have arisen. In those days teaching was not looked upon as a profession. It was merely a calling, a trade, a temporary activity requiring no special preparation. Anybody could teach and could teach any subject. Education was not recognized as a science. The function of the school was merely to give knowledge and it was not looked upon, as to-day, as a great social institution, largely responsible for the welfare of society and even for the stability of government. And as touching the child, not interesting itself with the formation of right habits of action, with the development of character, in a word, so handling the child and his environment as to bring about both the normal development of his inner life and the adequate shaping and preparing of that life to satisfy the demands that will later be met. Not at all.

But great changes have arisen. Education has become a science, and its activities, its processes, are being based upon definite scientific principles. We are to-day demanding a professional preparation of all our teachers. We require them to know something about the child mind and the laws of its development. We expect them to know why they teach this subject and that, that is, the educational values of the various subjects, and the best manner of administering this educational food. Education, I say, is now looked upon as a science, closely allied to and continually assisted by its sister science of sociology, definitely based upon and springing out of the sciences of psychology and physiology, and even having its roots deep down in the sub-soil of biology.

Together with this change of thought as to the function and work of the school, there has been a corresponding change as to the superintendent and his work. While we are not completely emancipated from the old rule of cut and try, from the old mechanical routine, the country as a whole has taken some long strides in advance. While some boards of education still look upon their superintendent as a chore boy, that idea has, on the whole, long since been abandoned. And the best educational thought of the country to-day regards the superintendent primarily as an educator, having to do with the inner, rather than the outer, phases of the school's activities. And our most progressive centers are looking upon him as a specialist, an educational expert, and demanding in him an educational and a professional equipment commensurate with the larger, more difficult, and most important work. He must be intimately acquainted with the sciences most closely related to his own and capable of drawing upon all the others for contributory assistance. And then, in carrying out the thought of this larger view and so shaping matters of detail as to profit by the superb equipment provided in the new superintendent, he has been freed from the routine work formerly done by him, thus giving the opportunity of studying the local problems and planning their solution.

Now for my definite suggestion. It has taken me a long time to get to it, but I believe it is worth the time. I want you to look upon the superintendency of your schools as the largest, the most difficult, and most important position within the bestowal of the city. The mayor's job doesn't begin to compare with it. And then after you have so rated the position, I want you to free the man who holds it from all hack-work, from the details of business management, from anything and everything that now prevents him from making a careful, scientific, investigative study of fundamental educational problems that confront him right here in Grand Forks.

And what are some of those problems, do you ask? Superintendent Kelly could doubtless name a score of them that he is waiting to get at but can not for want of time. Let me suggest a few that are confronting our superintendents all over the land. Nor can I do more than mention them. I name first this matter of retardation of which I have already spoken. Why is it that so many children fail of promotion and so have to repeat grades, thus adding to the expense of the schools? It no longer satisfies to say, "Because they do not study"—the question is, "Why do they not study?" Is it the fault of the child, the home, or the school? And, whosoever it is, how can the difficulty be removed? You would not in your business suffer a daily loss thru unnecessary friction—thru the unsatisfactory working of your machinery. You demand the largest and best output possible for the money expended. Why not the same in the biggest business enterprise of the city—your schools? But to prevent the friction, you must know the cause. I want the superintendent to have time to investigate these matters. All this applies as well to those who drop out before completing the course as to those merely repeating a grade. An analogous question: Why do so few, relatively, of the graduates of the eighth grade enter the high school? And why do so few of those who enter complete the course? Again, is it because they can see no real connection between the work of the high school and the work of life—because it doesn't seem to fit them for anything? These things should be investigated and, when reasons are found, the remedy applied. We should know the facts. But all these matters take time, and the days are only so long and a man's strength always limited. Exhausted by hack-work, no man can do constructive thinking. And so we go on in our waste of money and energy and life. The waste of soil, the waste of tools, in our farming communities, doesn't compare with this waste in seriousness. Let us adopt the principles of scientific conservation.

And now, in keeping with the topic given me to discuss, "Improvement in Our Public Schools," I have given three quite definite suggestions: In the first place, I have recommended the utilization of the Press as an agent of improvement. That is, I have asked that there be established in one or both of your daily papers an educational column in charge of some competent person thru which the public could become better informed on school matters and thus able to co-operate more intelligently in the upbuilding of the schools. In the second place, I have urged that mesures be taken looking toward the adoption of regular and systematic medical inspection of all school children. And lastly, I have urged you to look upon your superintendent of schools as an educational expert rather than a business man. And, regarding him as such, I have asked you to free him from the petty details of office work and all mechanical drudgery so that his training and his abilities could be used for educational betterment.