ince the 12th century.

First, then, Universities, as I understand them, are not absolutely
essential to the teaching of professions. Let me make an extreme
supposition. A great naval commander, like Nelson, is sent on board
ship, at eleven or twelve; his previous knowledge, or general training,
is what you may suppose for that age. It is in the course of actual
service, and in no other way, that he acquires his professional fitness
for commanding fleets. Is this right or is it wrong? Perhaps it is
wrong, but it has gone on so for a long time. Well, why may not a
preacher be formed on the same plan? John Wesley was not a greater man
in preaching, than Nelson in seamanship. Take, then, a youth of thirteen
from the school. Apprentice him to the minister of a parish. Let him
make at once preparations for clerical work. Let him store his memory
with sermons, let him make abstracts of Divinity systems; master the
best exegetical commentators. Then, in a year or two, he would begin to
catechise the young, to give addresses in the way of exposition,
exhortation, encouragement, and rebuke. Practice would bring facility.
Might not, I say; seven years of the actual work, in the susceptible
period of life, make a preacher of no mean power, without the Grammar
School, without the Arts' Classes, without the Divinity Hall?

What then do we gain by taking such a roundabout approach to our
professional work? The answer is twofold.

First, as regards the profession itself. Nearly every skilled
occupation, in our time, involves principles and facts that have been
investigated, and are taught, outside the profession; to the medical man
are given courses of Chemistry, Physiology, and so on. Hence to be
completely equipped for your professional work, you must repair to the
teachers of those tributary departments of knowledge. The requirement,
however, is not absolute; it admits of being evaded. Your professional
teachers ought to master these outside subjects, and give you just as
much of them as you need, and no more; which would be an obvious economy
of your valuable time.

Thus, I apprehend, the strictly professional uses of general knowledge
fail to justify the Grammar School and the Arts' curriculum. Something,
indeed, may still be said for the higher grades of professional
excellence, and for introducing improved methods into the practice of
the several crafts; for which wider outside studies lend their aid.
This, however, is not