facts, and to men so educated, the very thought of an
inordinate crowding of the so-called genteeler avocations, to the
neglect of the more substantial, _becomes appreciated in its true light,
as absurd and unfortunate in every way, and, in all its bearings upon
the individual as well as the social welfare_.

So, let us have popular education; and let a due proportion of fit minds
enter the professions, the posts of office, and commercial pursuits; let
a few even live by mere work of thought; but let all enjoy the luxury of
a degree of thought and rationality that shall forbid their richest
blessing turning to their rankest curse. That such must be the result of
a _true_ education, our faith in a wise Providence forbids us to doubt.
Such an education being _real_, and appealing to all the faculties, does
not eventuate in vain aspirings; but fits each for his place and
work--fits for making that great and happy discovery, that the best
talents and the most complete cultivation of them can not only find in
every employment scope for real exercise, but in the commonest and
simplest occupations will be more expert and successful than uncultured
ignorance can possibly be. In this view, the true education tends not to
_level_ but to utilize, to make the most of every man's special
aptitudes for his special field. Such an education monarchy and
aristocracy might dread, and reaective tendencies have already, indeed,
blighted the once pattern school-system of Prussia, while they are
believed to threaten a like step in England. But the idea of such an
education as we have striven to portray, harmonizes with the spirit and
objects of a commonwealth, and if we mistake not, to the perpetuity and
perfection of free institutions it may yet be found the condition
precedent.

_TRAVEL-PICTURES._

A QUIET COURT IN PARIS.

No lodging on a village street could be quieter than my room in Paris,
and yet the court it opened upon was not more than an easy stone's throw
from the gayest part of the Boulevards. Once within the great wooden
gate and up the narrow lane conducting to the court, and you seemed to
have left the great world as completely behind you as if it had been a
dream. It was one of the smallest of Parisian courts, and--to me its
chief recommendation--one of the neatest. With its two or three small
stuccoed houses built around, it reminded one rather of inclosures that
you see in provincial towns in France than of the da