MECHANICAL ENERGY TRANSFORMED INTO ELECTRICITY.Ex.—The boy on the insulated stool is repeatedly struck with some furry substance, like a tiger skin. He becomes highly electrical and capable of emitting sparks.
MECHANICAL ENERGY TRANSFORMED INTO ELECTRICITY.
Ex.—The boy on the insulated stool is repeatedly struck with some furry substance, like a tiger skin. He becomes highly electrical and capable of emitting sparks.
The same fact is discovered in the world of sound—beginning with vibrations which are too slow to be heard at all, we ascend the scale eleven octaves, when the vibrations become so rapid as to be inaudible. Complete darkness may be caused by either too slow or too rapid vibrations of light and heat, and utter silence by the same conditions in the sound waves.
These are five in number: The sun and stars, chemical action, percussion, friction and electricity. Stars are suns, but at a vast distance from our earth, the nearest being twenty trillions of miles away. To other systems they doubtless perform the offices of suns. Being so remote, however, although of myriad number, their influence upon our earth is hardly appreciable, and will not, therefore, be here considered.
GEISSLER’S TUBES.[3]Ex.—This tube is filled with rarefied gases. Platinum wires convey the electric current through the tube, revealing curious striated sections of brilliant light, varying in shape and color, with the variety of gas and the degree of rarefaction.
GEISSLER’S TUBES.[3]
Ex.—This tube is filled with rarefied gases. Platinum wires convey the electric current through the tube, revealing curious striated sections of brilliant light, varying in shape and color, with the variety of gas and the degree of rarefaction.
Our sun is an immense reservoir of energy. It is difficult to conceive its size. It would require twelve hundred thousand of our globes to equal it in volume. More than one hundred such worlds as ours might be strung upon the line forming its diameter. The sun has been for ages throwing off its vibrations of heat and light. Thousands of years before fires were kindled on hearthstones this form of energy, according to the modern doctrine of the correlation of forces, was locked up in the tropical vegetation of the coal periods, and in the great deposits of coal preserved for future use. The same anticipatory benevolence which projects on its journey the friendly ray of the north star, forty-three years before the mariner’s eye can see it, provided fuel for man thousands of years before it was needed.
This energy of the sunbeam reappears in the summer warmth of our dwellings in winter, in the expansion of steam, in the blow of the trip hammer, and throbs even in the pulsations of the human heart.
The cells of all plants need the force of the sun’s rays to separate the carbon from the oxygen contained in the carbonic di-oxide absorbed by the rootlets and stomata of the leaves. Thus the great luminary builds the forests and clothes the earth with verdure. “All flesh is grass,” and therefore to the forces of the sun’s vibrations we must trace not a little of animal growth and strength. The sun gives out more heat than it would if six tons of coal were burnt on every square yard of its surface every hour. Sir John Herschel[4]declares that its light is equal to that of one hundred and forty-six calcium lights, each one formed of a ball of lime equal to the sun in bulk; yet even a small calcium light is so dazzling that the eye can not look steadily at it.
The careless expression sometimes heard when the moon shines brightly, “It is as light as day,” is a striking hyperbole, for it would require eight hundred full moons to equal the brightness of daylight.
ELECTRIC MOTION CONVERTED INTO SPARKS.Ex.—A file is made part of the circuit, and as the wire conducting the electricity is rubbed along the file, the circuit is alternately formed and broken, and sparks follow each breaking of the circuit.
ELECTRIC MOTION CONVERTED INTO SPARKS.
Ex.—A file is made part of the circuit, and as the wire conducting the electricity is rubbed along the file, the circuit is alternately formed and broken, and sparks follow each breaking of the circuit.
Of all forms of paganism, that of the Fire Worshipers[5]seems least unreasonable, for the sun is even now, to us, the best symbol of beneficence and unfailing energy. After thousands of years it shows no diminution of power, and although the imagination can conceive the possibility of its destruction, the most accurate scientific observations have not discovered the slightest indications of its lessening influence. “His going forth is from the end of the heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it; there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.”
In a preceding article the chemistry of fire has been considered at some length. It only remains to mention briefly a few of the physical phenomena attending it. When elements unite by the force of affinity, it is supposed that their atoms rush together, and that their motion is converted into heat.
In the case of the galvanic battery the impetuous movement of the atoms toward the poles becomes electricity. We have constantly recurring instances in nature of that great truth that energy, though constantly disappearing is never lost, but reappears under new manifestations and a new name. It may for a time remain dormant, and anon become perceptible, as in the case of latent heat. For example, in mixing five pounds of water at a temperature of 212° Fahrenheit, and five pounds of ice, seven hundred and fifteen units of heat disappear in melting the ice, and the aggregate temperature of the mass is proportionally lower than that of the substances united. But upon their returning to their former state, this latent heat reappears as sensible heat.
In chemical action producing fire, the uniting materials are usually converted, first, into a gaseous form, but there are some exceptions. The most interesting is the following: When a few flakes of iodine are placed upon a fragment of phosphorus, the atoms of the two elements rush together with great energy, producing spontaneous combustion, and liberating sufficient heat to burn the superfluous iodine, with the evolution of beautiful violet fumes.
The mechanical action in flame is full of interest. Its brightness always seems to depend upon the incandescence of solid particles. This can easily be seen in an ordinary lamp. A piece of cold porcelain inserted in a flame will cool the incandescent carbon, and it will be deposited as soot.
The Bunsen[6]burner clearly proves that the brilliancy of our lights depends upon the incandescence of the carbon. This is a contrivance for passing jets of air through a flame, so that the intimate mixing of the oxygen of the air with the carbon will cause the immediate combustion of the latter. This results in converting it instantly to invisible gas (CO₂) before incandescence, and consequently the Bunsen flame, while it is intensely hot, emits but a feeble light.
Anyphysicalchange that facilitates the movement of atoms seems to increase the intensity of chemical action.
SHOWING THE PRODUCTION OF ELECTRIC LIGHT FROM CARBON POINTS.Ex.—The rods are first placed near together, then as the circuit is formed they are drawn apart, and the electric light is formed between them.
SHOWING THE PRODUCTION OF ELECTRIC LIGHT FROM CARBON POINTS.
Ex.—The rods are first placed near together, then as the circuit is formed they are drawn apart, and the electric light is formed between them.
An instructive experiment illustrating the characteristics of different kinds of flame may be performed as follows: Place near each other a small alcohol lamp and a piece of paraffine candle; when lighted observe the two flames. The three cones in each can be easily discerned, thecandleburns with a much brighter light, showing it to be richer in incandescent carbon. Insert in each flame a piece of fine wire or narrow strip of glass, either of these will be much more quickly heated by the alcohol lamp, because its flame is richer in hydrogen. If a glass jar which is cold be placed over each, a film of vapor (H₂O) will gather on that covering the alcohol lamp with greater rapidity than on the other. If the jars remain over the flames until they are extinguished by the lack of oxygen, more carbonic anhydride (CO₂) will be formed from the combustion of the alcohol.
When a blow is arrested by an object, themotionis converted into heat. The ancient flint-lock gun and the percussion-cap fire-arm both illustrate this fact. In the former, the descending flint struck out the spark, and in the latter the cap is exploded by the arrested hammer. The stroke of a cannon ball is attended with a flash. If the world were suddenly stopped in its course, heat enough would be generated to set it on fire. Nitro-glycerine and dynamite are exploded by percussion. Familiar illustrations of this scientific truth meet us in everyday life. It has even passed into a proverb with a moral application, that “hard cracks make the sparks fly.” A novel effect of percussion may have been noticed when a fall upon the ice has resulted in a mechanical disturbance of the optic nerve which revealed whole constellations of stars never yet catalogued.
It is a spirited sight to watch the operation of sharpening tools upon a grindstone or emery wheel run by steam. Showers of sparks are produced by the friction. We often observe the same phenomenon when the brakes are applied to rapidly revolving car wheels. Rails are heated by the friction of the passing train. You may have had the misfortune, while riding, to have one of your carriage wheels become set, caused by the box of the hub, and the axle becoming so heated by friction as to “unite” their surfaces. All machinery requires constant watching and lubrication to prevent undue friction and serious wearing.
Mills have not unfrequently been set on fire by rapidly revolving belts coming in contact with the woodwork. When the whale, frantic with the pain of the harpoon, darts away with lightning speed, the sailors are compelled to dash water over the spinning wheel on which the rope is wound.
In all these instances motion is transformed into heat.
Galvanic, frictional, magnetic, thermal and animal electricity are all capable of producing heat. The first also produces an intensely brilliant light. We have long been acquainted with the “Voltaic arc”[7]of the galvanic battery, but less familiar are the magnificent manifestations of frictional electricity. Dynamo-electric machines are of comparatively recent construction, and their object is to convert mechanical energy into that of electric currents, and vice versa.
A striking application of galvanic electricity is frequently seen in the discharge of gunpowder and other explosives, by making the electric current pass through a small platinum wire which is in close contact with them.
Electric energy is propagated in waves, and this wire, being so small, is incapable of transmitting them all at once, so they beat upon it until their repeated blows cause it to become red hot, and the material in contact is thus ignited.
Perhaps the grandest illustration of this action was seen in blowing up the rocks of Hell Gate[8]in the East River, and thus opening a safe passage for the commerce of the world. The tiny finger of a little child, the daughter of the engineer, at a given signal, pressed the key that closed the circuit, and, like Æolus,[9]when he struck the rock, set free the mighty elements of destruction.
This same principle, viz.: that resisted motion becomes heat and light, is seen in both the Brush and the Edison electric lights. In the former, electric currents pass along wires to carbon points, shaped like a crayon, and covered by a film of copper, and separated by a distance of about one half inch. The air between is a non-conductor, and here the flame is formed. In the Edison light, however, the two conducting wires enter a glass globe, from which the air is excluded. Here they are connected with a spiral wire about as large as a knitting needle, and three-quarters of an inch in length. When the electricity is turned on, this spiral glows with an intensely brilliant white light.
SOLIDS DIFFER AS TO CONDUCTING POWER.Ex.—If we hold a pipe stem or rod of glass in one hand and a copper wire in the other, and apply the ends of these to a flame, the wire will convey the sensation much more quickly to the hand than the other. This shows that solids differ as to conducting power.
SOLIDS DIFFER AS TO CONDUCTING POWER.
Ex.—If we hold a pipe stem or rod of glass in one hand and a copper wire in the other, and apply the ends of these to a flame, the wire will convey the sensation much more quickly to the hand than the other. This shows that solids differ as to conducting power.
A marvelous illustration of the relation between electric and sound vibrations is found in the telephone and microphone. The former is becoming a household necessity; the latter, though not so well known, is not less wonderful. It brings to our ear the tick of a watch miles away, and through it the walking of a fly sounds like the tramp of a horse.
Heat is distributed by radiation, conduction, and convection. By the first we mean that heated bodies have the power of projecting from themselves, by means of the ether, their own vibrations. Thus the sun is constantly distributing its light and heat in all directions. Conduction takes place where the molecules of a substance nearest a fire first become heated and then impart their motion to the remainder of the mass,somewhat as in a row of suspended ivory balls, the first of which, when struck, transmits its motion from ball to ball, the last one flying off.
Convection takes place in liquids and gases. Here the particles in contact with the heated body becoming lighter by expansion, rise, and are followed by others, thus forming a current.
WATER A POOR CONDUCTOR.Ex.—Fill a tube nearly full of water, applying a flame to the upper part of the tube. The water at this point will readily boil, while that in the lower part of the tube remains cool, showing that water is a poor conductor, and that liquids must be heated by convection.
WATER A POOR CONDUCTOR.
Ex.—Fill a tube nearly full of water, applying a flame to the upper part of the tube. The water at this point will readily boil, while that in the lower part of the tube remains cool, showing that water is a poor conductor, and that liquids must be heated by convection.
The process of warming a room illustrates the three methods of heat distribution. The heat passes through the stove by conduction, away from it by radiation, and to the remote parts of the room by convection.
They are four in number. Rise of temperature, expansion, liquefaction, evaporation. The first indication of the presence of heat is discovered by an elevation in temperature. Though man is not a reliable thermometer, he would be able, ordinarily, even if blind, to chronicle the progress of the sun, from horizon to horizon, by the increasing and decreasing warmth. The little thermometer placed beneath the tongue of the invalid gives reliable report of the combustion going on within his system. We see a thousand illustrations of the expansive effects of heat, many of which are familiar to all. The exceptions are more interesting than the rule, and less known, the ordinary rule being that heat expands and cold (absence of heat) contracts. Watercontractsby cold until it reaches the temperature of 39°, and thenexpandswith great violence until congelation is completed, at 32°. A British officer in Quebec filled a twelve inch shell with water, and closed the fuse hole with a wooden plug securely driven in with a mallet. Upon being exposed to intense cold the plug was projected a distance of several hundred feet, and a long tongue of ice was found protruding from the opening.
It is supposed that sufficient heat would convert all solids first into liquids, and then into gases. In the process of distillation, if we wish to retain its products, we combine both heating and cooling.
The knowledge of the melting and vaporizing point of substances is of immense value. We are enabled thus to drive off and secure the various ingredients entering into many complex substances. A notable instance is seen in the means used to secure the rich and varied products of petroleum.
These are not the only measurers of heat. We have the pyrometers, used for ascertaining the temperature of extremely hot bodies, and the thermo-electric pile, an apparatus which constitutes the most delicate test for heat which has been devised. It will detect heat in the body of a fly walking near it.
SHOWING DISTILLATION.Ex.—Place a small amount of water, colored with ink, in a flask, and apply heat. The water will be vaporized, and in passing through the tube, which is surrounded by another tube containing cold water, it is condensed as a colorless liquid.
SHOWING DISTILLATION.
Ex.—Place a small amount of water, colored with ink, in a flask, and apply heat. The water will be vaporized, and in passing through the tube, which is surrounded by another tube containing cold water, it is condensed as a colorless liquid.
Thermometers are of three kinds, as to the materials used. They are air, alcohol, and mercurial. In each case the contraction and expansion of these respective substances are made to register variations of heat and cold. They are of three kinds, as to their system of grading—Réaumur’s, the Centigrade, and Fahrenheit’s. The first two make zero the freezing point; the last makes 32°. The boiling point of Réaumur’s is 80°, the Centigrade 100°, and Fahrenheit’s 212°. Once more changing the basis of classification, we find thermometers divided into three classes, with reference to the purposes they serve. The ordinary thermometer records the degree of heat or cold at the moment of observation. The differential thermometers can be made of two ordinary thermometers, by wrapping a piece of cloth around the bulb of one; these would show at any given moment whether it was growing warmer or colder. If it is growing warm, the column of mercury in the thermometer with the covered bulb will stand lower than the other, as the cloth prevents the heat reaching the quicksilver as readily as in the other. If it is higher than in the other, the weather is growing colder, as the cover prevents the heat from going off as rapidly as from the other. The third class, the registering thermometer, is so called because it marks the extremes of temperature. Without going into detail, it is perhaps sufficient to say that a minute bar of steel is placed on top of the column of mercury, and remains at any point to which it is pushed, thus recording the greatest degree of heat during any given interval of time. Somewhat similar in arrangement is the alcohol thermometer, marking the greatest degree of cold. It will, of course, be understood that almost all apparatus is greatly varied to serve special purposes. The limits of our article will preclude further discussion of fire in relation to light, although the subject of both physical and physiological topics is full of fascination and value.
End of Required Reading for March.
The most important question for the good student and reader is not, amidst this multitude of books which no man can number, how much he shall read. The really important questions are, first, what is the quality of what he does read; and, second, what is his manner of reading it. There is an analogy which is more than accidental between physical and mental assimilation and digestion; and, homely as the illustration may seem, it is the most forcible I can use. Let two sit down to a table spread with food; one possessed of a healthy appetite, and knowing something of the nutritious qualities of the various dishes before him; the other cursed with a pampered and capricious appetite, and knowing nothing of the results of chemical and physiological investigation. One shall make a better meal, and go away stronger and better fed, on a dish of oatmeal, than the other on a dinner that has half emptied his pockets. Shall we study physiological chemistry and know all about what is food for the body, and neglect mental chemistry, and be utterly careless as to what nutriment is contained in the food we give our minds? Who can over-estimate the value of good books, those ships of thought, as Bacon so finely calls them, voyaging through the sea of time, and carrying their precious freight so safely!—Prof. W. P. Atkinson.
BY BISHOP JOHN F. HURST, D. D., LL.D.
Years ago I had taken pains to gain all accessible information concerning the most celebrated, and certainly also the largest, university in the entire Mohammedan world. In 1871 when in Cairo a number of days, through lack of a proper guide and full knowledge of this important institution, I left the city without seeing it. I was determined this time, therefore, to make sure of a visit to it, and to see carefully, with my own eyes, this marvel of the Mohammedan faith. The University is located in a mosque, and is, in fact, the one chief business of the mosque itself. Religion—such as it is—is the fundamental feature of all Moslem education. Not a science is taught in any school of Mohammedanism which does not begin with the Koran, and again come back to it. Whether law or medicine or geometry—in fact, whatever is communicated to the young, the first and ever predominant lesson imparted with it and through it is, that the Koran is the fountain of all science. Very naturally, then, the school is a part of the service of the mosque. This idea is not new. It is an oriental habit. We find proofs even in the Scriptures that the church was God’s first school. In ancient Egypt the temple, the palace, and the school were the perfected trinity in every city, and often the temple and the school were so closely enclosed that no careful observer could tell where one began and the other ended. The same idea re-appears in the arrangements which Charlemagne made for the higher education of the Frankish empire. The school was often located under the palace and in close connection with the chapel roof, and was calledscholia palatina, or the school of the palace. At first the object seems to have been that the emperor’s children and other children of the court might have the best opportunity for learning; but very soon the limits became broader, and all who wanted to learn could have every advantage, within close distance of both church and palace.
The approach to the University of Cairo is a narrow street, with open booths on either side, where the artisans ply their crafts in full view of every passer-by. Three industries take the lead of all others—book-selling, book-binding, and hair-shaving. The nearest street to the University bears the name of the Street of the B, and such it may well be called. The Mohammedan has always a shaven head. He wears a great turban, of white or some other color. Green is the most infrequent shade, for that indicates that the wearer is a descendant of the prophet Mohammed. Not one hair is allowed under that turban. When it gets a little long the barber must shave the pate as clean as an ostrich egg. All along a part of the street leading to the University the barbers sit on the floors their shops, and shave the heads of their customers. The one to be shaved does not sit in a chair, but simply stretches out full length on the floor and puts his head in the lap of the barber, who also sits on the floor, with his feet doubled up under him. Then begins the process of shaving. It is a most lowly operation. No paper is used during the process, the barber getting rid of the shaved hair and soap by wiping the razor on his customer’s face until the entire tonsorial feat is finished and an ablution of cranium and face is in order. In addition to the barber shops there are probably not less than twenty-five book shops, as many binderies, and a good number of stationery stalls. These are all of modest dimensions, but are well stocked with everything that a student needs that is to say, a student of the Mohammedan order.
Between the point where the street ends and the University enclosure proper, there is a large fore-court. Here one sees such a medley of all forms of life and strange habits, in connection with study, that he can never forget it. It is the place where no serious study goes on, but where the news is discussed and conversation enjoyed. Even the barbers have spilled over into this court, for I saw a number of them busily shaving the heads of outstretched students. One of them, seeing a Frank scanning his work, stopped a moment, and holding up his razor from the pate which he had nearly made bald again, asked me if I did not want to be shaved too. I thanked him—but had not time. Imagine a half-dozen students lying about in Mead Hall, in Drew Seminary, near the doors of Drs. Butts, or Strong, or Miley, or Crooks, or Upham, and having their heads shaved by busy barbers, who sit flat on the marble floor and relieve the crania of their theological patrons of their last capillary endowment! Then think of students munching at a crust of dark bread or a pomegranate, or some edible, good or poor, according to his resources. Some students have families, and here the children come and play about them, at times when their fathers are not busy with their books. So far as I could see, there was no formal studying in this great fore-court. Perhaps there were a hundred persons in it, lying, sitting, walking. Some alone with their meditations, others entertaining a group of eager listeners, and gesticulating with oriental realism. Only one class had the appearance of any work, a group of boys. One of the number displeased his teacher, whereupon the latter beat him smartly with his fist until the little fellow’s eyes swam in tears; my blood fairly boiled at the teacher’s cruelty. I thought I was already in the University proper, but this was a serious error. The institution was yet to come; I was only approaching the great establishment.
I had no sooner touched the threshold of the great central hall than a man met me, and, with a most polite salaam, informed me that I must now put on slippers. He was a magnificent specimen of a well developed Egyptian—tall, muscular, grave, yet pleasant, and only answering such questions as were put to him. Unlike the European guides in blue and brass, those of Africa have no stereotype speeches which they hurl at you, as they have done at the thousands before you. In a moment four pairs of soft slippers, of yellow sheepskin, were brought to my companions and myself, and the wary hands which brought them slipped them on over our boots and tied them on with red strings. We were now to enter upon the holy stone floor of the great hall of Mohammedan learning, and only holy dust must fall upon that tessellated floor, and then only with softest touch. Here was a scene which baffles all description. The hall was about two hundred and fifty feet long and two hundred wide. All the classes were reciting, engaged in work, or listening to the professor. Every one who recited did it loudly. I stood beside one of the theological professors and watched his method. His class numbered forty students, whose various physiognomies showed that they had come from every part of the broad Mohammedan world. The professor sat squat on the floor, with his bare feet doubled up about him. There is no craze as yet among Mohammedans for only young teachers. This man, like many others, had long since passed beyond middle life. His heavy gray beard and very dark face were lighted up by as keen a pair of black eyes as ever became diamonds, when they saw in his young days the prophet’s torch in Mecca, or in vision beheld the curtain drawn aside which hides the Moslem paradise from human sight. The forty students sat about him in a circle, yet in suchway that all were before him at once. He was one of the circle, in fact, and as he taught he swayed to and fro, and looked off into the distance as if in reverie, and then again at his class, and, with an intensity that only an Arab possesses, he burned his ideas into the very brain of the students. He sat at the foot of a stone pillar, and leaned against it at intervals, when his weary form needed a little rest.
This theological professor had the method of all. He held a thin book in his hand which seemed to be his own brief, and, after reading snatches from it, he gave a comment or explanation of it, and then had one student and then another repeat what he had said. Our American infant class method of teaching verses, and having them committed to memory while the class are together, and then repeating them, so that the teacher can see that the work is well and surely done, is precisely the method of both elementary and advanced education in this greatest university of the Mohammedan world. The brief of this theological professor was merely his collection of definitions, and these were committed to memory on the spot. Some of the students had sheets of tin, something smaller than the sheets of roofing tin with which we are familiar in the United States. On these they wrote in ink, with reed styles, and with such dexterity that a whole page was filled in a very short time. What was written on these tin slates was taken away, and designed to be committed to memory, when that process was not finished during the session of the class.
Now the entire floor of this immense hall was covered with classes at work. No teacher or student sat in a chair. There was not even a footstool in the entire University. The professors and students formed little or large groups all over the immense space, no class interfering with another, and each going on with its work as if alone, and yet not a partition or a curtain dividing the groups at study. I saw only a little eating here, an occasional student slily making a lunch of new dates, the fruit with “gold dust” on it, now just in from the country.
I could not help noticing the various ages of the students. Some were really very advanced in years. They were waked up very late in life. Something had broken loose under their twenty-five yards of cotton cloth which they call a turban, and they had come down the Nile with the rise, or had been wafted from the Darfur sands, and were going to study. They could do more, and be more, when they went back again. Here, too, was the old-time idea. The notion that a university is a thing for the young alone is a modern affair. The old conception was, it was everybody’s place—theuniversumof men as well as studies. In Mohammedanism, as in Christianity, when once the passion for learning strikes one, the years count nothing. The person in the fifties or even in sixties is just as apt to be overwhelmed, swept on, by the learning frenzy as though he were only eighteen and smitten by other inspirations.
The entire number in attendance at this greatest University of the Mohammedans is about thirteen thousand. Some calculations place it at fifteen thousand. They come from every part of the world where the cimetar of Mohammed and his successors has drawn blood, and where the crescent now floats. Each part of the large hall has its nation, where the students are grouped territorially. Here, in one place, are the Benguelese, from southwestern Africa; in another place are the Algerines, from the sound of the Mediterranean surf. Yonder are only Thracians, from south of the Balkans. This group, as black as your hat, consists entirely of Nubians. Another is made up solely of natives of Zanzibar. These divisions reach into nearly all the Asiatic and African lands. There are Afghanistaneze and others from still farther east, from the very heart of India, and even from the far Pacific islands. One has only to see these collections of students, massed around a teacher of their own language and nationality, to become convinced of the broad field of Mohammedanism and the mightiness of the effort needful to uproot it.
Poverty! That is no name for the condition of the students. They come to Cairo from the far-off regions, impelled by some passion bordering on that for learning, living on a little crust and fruit, having no sleeping place at night save the space of the sacred mosque which serves as a university, never paying a piastre for all the instruction of years, and looking forward with earnest longing to the time when they can leave again and impart to their native villages, or the very desert wastes, the wisdom which they have gained in the shades of the great hall of learning in the Cairo of the caliphs. There is a dash of self-seeking in their coming hither. When the tocsin of war is sounded, there is no exemption from conscription save learning. He who has once entered the doorway is safe from the conscription list. Were an attack made on the very citadel where Mohammed Ali put to death every plotting Mameluke—except one, who leaped upon his faithful Arab steed and plunged safely into the depths below—nothing could touch him. He has come to the fountain of knowledge, and Mars has no claim upon him. At the present time the number of students is not so large as usual, for there is no fear of a war, except such as the English are fighting and holding themselves responsible for. I looked carefully at the kind of food which these students ate, and in all cases it was of the simplest quality. Some were taking their solid dinner, and it was nothing more than a rude bowl of lentil soup or a flat cake of pounded grain. The clothing in most cases betokened the same poverty. The slippers were of rude construction, such as fifteen cents would buy, and even these are to be worn at the general prayer, which begins the day for all the students, only to be laid aside during the later hours. The habit is a loose black, or other colored robe, which has become threadbare by long usage. I am sure I saw many students, and professors as well, whose entire dress could not have cost five francs apiece. This dress they have on, moreover, is the whole scope of their wardrobe. When they get another suit it will probably be when they reach home again, and enter upon their calling for life.
The professors get no salary. They have passed through various stages of learning, and when once they have committed every word of the Koran, and perhaps some of the more noted commentaries on it to memory, and have given other proofs of aptness at teaching, they are declared able to instruct. But they get no pay for teaching. Neither the University treasury pays them, nor does the student do it. Their instruction is positively gratuitous. Now, if by copying the Koran or other book, or by private teaching in families, or by doing some outside manual work, they can be supported, well and good. But for sitting squat on the sacred marble floor and teaching students the holy laws, and all the holy sciences that come from them, there must be no itching palm. This is the one place, and only one, so far as I can recall, where I have been where there has been no call for backsheesh.
How, then, is this immense establishment supported? I answer, that many students are sustained, and so permitted to remain at the University, by the funds of the institution. The treasury, instead of taking care of the professor, goes rather to keeping the student from starvation. There are many endowments which have fallen into the hands of the state which constitute a large part of this treasury. Education has always been an attractive investment, and many Mohammedans have left sums of money for this purpose, and so the University of Cairo owes a good part of its wealth to this source. Again, when funds fall from certain causes, into the treasury of the state—perhaps property for which there are no heirs—it is devoted to this purpose. The building and all its belongings, and all really needy students are thus provided for. Out of the three hundred professors and other teachers, only one is paid a salary. He is the general director, or rector, and his salary amounts to 10,000 piastres, or about five hundred dollars of our money.
Of one thing I was very careful to make inquiry. I mean as to the bearing of this institution on the propagation of Mohammedan ideas. In all descriptions I had become familiar with concerning the great purpose of the students, the thought was made predominant that the students went away with a missionary zeal, and became intense propagators of the faith throughout their lives. The Rev. Mr. Harvey, of that noble cause and magnificent institution for Egypt, the United Presbyterian Mission, from the United States, was a very kind escort during my visit. He has been many years a resident of Cairo, and is very familiar with every form of Mohammedan life, and he informs me that this zeal for the Moslem faith does not exist, that the students do not go away with it, and never exhibit it, except in rare cases, in later life. Their stay in the University may be long. They may be three or four or five years, and if no way to work opens they may spend most of their life there, but whenever they do leave, sooner or later, they go off not simply as teachers of theology, but as jurists, mathematicians, or professional men of other callings, and religion is less in mind than secular work. Even when they go out as imams, or priests, that profession carries with it certain functions which belong both to the town clerk or the district judge, and hence the priesthood is absorbed in certain legal and administrative functions which eclipse the sacred office altogether. As to a burning zeal to disseminate Mohammedanism, it does not exist. It has no unquenchable love for itself, and is only continuing its own means of propagation because of something better. That something better is at its doors, and is beginning to thread the labyrinths of the Dark Continent. In due time Christianity will do for Africa what it has done for Europe, and is this day doing for the half of Asia.
The darkest feature of my visit to the University was the absence of women. Alas! you never see the Mohammedan woman in these oriental lands, save with veiled face and hesitant step. Only yesterday I saw a handsome carriage being driven along one of the principal Cairene streets, preceded by a gaily dressed herald, who cried, “Make way, make way,” as is the fashion here still. The silken curtains were drawn, but the occupants were two ladies. They must live in the dark. In the mosque they must sit in the lofty spaces, far back behind the wooden screen work, and even then be veiled. The very small girls, who trip about with little rattling and tinkling bells around their ankles, are hardly old enough to learn the way to the next street before the veil is drawn over their face, and only their little eyes are permitted to look out. In the multitudes which I saw at the University, both as students and teachers, there was but one woman. She was probably the wife of a professor, and had come merely to bring the learned man his dinner, and then slip back again to the dark rear room of the house misnamed a home, and await his coming, and be the menial still to prepare his evening meal. Mohammedanism has no place for woman in its educational system. Its best interpretation of her office is that she is simply man’s slave. But the better day is coming, and may it soon be here, when the right of all women, in all these oriental countries, to the highest and the largest knowledge, shall be recognized as equal to that of any men beneath the shining sun.
BY MRS. EMILY J. BUGBEE.
To stand at the post of dutyWhether we rise or fall,If this be a place of beauty,Or the homeliest lot of all.To walk with a soul undauntedIn the God appointed way,Whether with praise enchanted,Or in shadow land it lay.The good of the world’s bestowingIs vanishing as the air,And its loftiest honors throwingA burden of ceaseless care.But to live as always seeingThe invisible source of thingsIs the blessedest state of being,In the quietude it brings.For in all of the strife and clamor,And the evil that is done,We know that the Lord will finishThe good that he hath begun.And we need not grope in blindnessBecause of the dreadful days,But sure of the Infinite kindnessMay stand in the certain ways.Oh! for a strong upliftingAnd a courage that will standWhile the Judge of the earth is siftingThe peoples of every land.Oh! Earth so full of the gloryReflected from above,We wait for your finished story,In the faith of a deathless love.
To stand at the post of dutyWhether we rise or fall,If this be a place of beauty,Or the homeliest lot of all.To walk with a soul undauntedIn the God appointed way,Whether with praise enchanted,Or in shadow land it lay.The good of the world’s bestowingIs vanishing as the air,And its loftiest honors throwingA burden of ceaseless care.But to live as always seeingThe invisible source of thingsIs the blessedest state of being,In the quietude it brings.For in all of the strife and clamor,And the evil that is done,We know that the Lord will finishThe good that he hath begun.And we need not grope in blindnessBecause of the dreadful days,But sure of the Infinite kindnessMay stand in the certain ways.Oh! for a strong upliftingAnd a courage that will standWhile the Judge of the earth is siftingThe peoples of every land.Oh! Earth so full of the gloryReflected from above,We wait for your finished story,In the faith of a deathless love.
To stand at the post of dutyWhether we rise or fall,If this be a place of beauty,Or the homeliest lot of all.
To stand at the post of duty
Whether we rise or fall,
If this be a place of beauty,
Or the homeliest lot of all.
To walk with a soul undauntedIn the God appointed way,Whether with praise enchanted,Or in shadow land it lay.
To walk with a soul undaunted
In the God appointed way,
Whether with praise enchanted,
Or in shadow land it lay.
The good of the world’s bestowingIs vanishing as the air,And its loftiest honors throwingA burden of ceaseless care.
The good of the world’s bestowing
Is vanishing as the air,
And its loftiest honors throwing
A burden of ceaseless care.
But to live as always seeingThe invisible source of thingsIs the blessedest state of being,In the quietude it brings.
But to live as always seeing
The invisible source of things
Is the blessedest state of being,
In the quietude it brings.
For in all of the strife and clamor,And the evil that is done,We know that the Lord will finishThe good that he hath begun.
For in all of the strife and clamor,
And the evil that is done,
We know that the Lord will finish
The good that he hath begun.
And we need not grope in blindnessBecause of the dreadful days,But sure of the Infinite kindnessMay stand in the certain ways.
And we need not grope in blindness
Because of the dreadful days,
But sure of the Infinite kindness
May stand in the certain ways.
Oh! for a strong upliftingAnd a courage that will standWhile the Judge of the earth is siftingThe peoples of every land.
Oh! for a strong uplifting
And a courage that will stand
While the Judge of the earth is sifting
The peoples of every land.
Oh! Earth so full of the gloryReflected from above,We wait for your finished story,In the faith of a deathless love.
Oh! Earth so full of the glory
Reflected from above,
We wait for your finished story,
In the faith of a deathless love.
BY GENERAL JOHN A. LOGAN,U. S. Senator from Illinois.
Having ascertained the extraordinary fact, from a close analysis of tabulations of authoritative statistics furnished by the Census and Education Bureaus, that, assuming the cost of educating a child in Mississippi, Tennessee, and West Virginia to be equal to such cost in the New England states, every one hundred adults in the former pay more to educate the children in those states than is paid by the same number of adults in any one of the latter, let us explore a little further for the reasons underlying that fact.
It might naturally be asked: How can these calculations be correct, when, for example, we learn from the report of the Commissioner of Education that Massachusetts pays annually for each child enrolled in her schools $15.44, while Mississippi pays but $3.38?
There are several factors which aid in bringing about this result. Some of these can be exactly ascertained; others of them, for want of statistics, can not.
In the first place, the $15.44 per scholar which Massachusetts pays amounts to but $4.98 per capita of her adult population, while the $3.38 per scholar that Mississippi pays amounts to $2.12 per capita of her adult population. Hence the real difference, so far as the payers of the cost are concerned, is only $2.86 per capita.
Another cause of this difference or inequality is the fact that Massachusetts pays her teachers, on an average, about $49.06 per month, while Mississippi pays hers only $30.07. While this doubtless affects the efficiency and equality of the education, it does not necessarily indicate a less number of pupils.
Still another cause lies in the fact that while the length of the school year is in Massachusetts one hundred and seventy-seven days, in Mississippi it is but seventy-seven days.
And still another may grow out of the larger proportion of teachers employed in Massachusetts than in Mississippi, for we find that while in the former, one teacher is employed for every 35.7 enrolled scholars, in the latter, one is employed for every 42.5.
These items enable us to understand why there are differences between the amounts paid in the two states, and what those differences are that exist under the present order of things.
We perceive, therefore, that while a strict scrutiny may bring to light the facts that the education in the one state or section is more efficient, the terms of school attendance longer, and the amount paid for school purposes more liberal than in the other, yet this in no wise tends to invalidate the statistics heretofore presented, nor to affect the argument based thereon. Although it may be true that Massachusetts spends more than $15.00 per scholar while Mississippi spends less than $3.50, it is also true that the latter has forty-eight pupils enrolled in school to every one hundred adults, while the Bay State has but thirty-three; and that while it costs the adults of the Northern state but $4.98 each to pay this $15.44, a similar service, similarly compensated, for its enrolled scholars would cost the adults of the Southern one $9.70 each.
The fact, then, that this remarkable inequality in the cost of educating the children of the different localities in the Union does exist, can not be successfully controverted; and that there is no method of equalizing the burden save by government aid can not be truthfully denied.
The time has gone by when it could be said that Mr. A., who is poor in this world’s goods, but surrounded by a full household of ruddy youths, must provide for their education from his own depleted pocket, just as Mr. B., who is rich, and has but a single child, provides for its instruction out of his plethoric pocket.
The principle is now fully acknowledged that it is the duty of the state or government—of the people, as a body-politic—to bear this burden, and thus to equalize it. This is the principle upon which our common school system is founded, which, notwithstanding the tax it imposes, is even now looked upon by the people as one of our most important institutions, second only to the republican basis on which our government is founded.
To bring this vital institution as near to perfection as is possible, to distribute its benefits as equally as possible, to render the tax as light as is consistent with efficiency, and to bring the burden to bear as equally as is practicable on all sections and localities, should be one great aim of our Federal legislation.
All the great nations of Europe are beginning to throb with the divine impulse which is first seen in the great, questioning eyes of the speechless babe. Some of them have lain for long centuries encrusted in the densest ignorance, and awake but sluggishly to a realization of the tremendous national power, which others have long since discovered, embedded in the education of the masses. Thus Russia, with her population of 78,500,000, although almost exhausting herself with wars for territorial aggrandizement, has awakened to the necessity of granting to her schools $9,000,000 annually—a mere pittance for such a nation, yet containing the germ of higher promise. So also Austria, with her population of 22,144,244, is slowly stirring. Education there is now made obligatory, and in 1881 she supplemented prior national aid to it by a grant of $6,500,000. Italy, in 1882, with a population of 28,000,000, gave like aid to the extent of $6,200,000, beside providing school buildings and other necessary desiderata—previous aid having borne good fruit in a marked decrease of illiteracy. Prussia, with a population of 27,251,067, is fortunate in the possession of endowed schools with regular incomes. Yet she gave national aid to education to the extent of $10,000,000 in 1881, and $11,458,856 in 1882. France, with a population of some 37,000,000—independent of the millions of dollars expended for a like purpose annually by her departments and communes—gave in 1881-2 to the extent of $22,717,880 for the education of her masses. Little Belgium, with a population of but 5,403,006—about one twelfth of ours—in 1882 gave national aid to education to the extent of about $4,000,000; for she perceives, as a direct consequence of periodical aid of this character, that Belgian illiteracy is surely and rapidly decreasing, while in like ratio her prosperity is increasing. Great Britain is similarly alive to the necessity for government aid to elementary schools. Such aid was given by her in 1882 to those in England and Wales, whose united population is 25,968,286—less than half the number we boast—to the extent of £2,749,863, or—roughly calculating at five dollars to the pound—nearly $14,000,000. This, too, in a land that is also rich in well endowed universities, colleges, grammar schools, and other institutions of learning. Such aid was also given in 1882-3 to elementary schools in Scotland, whose population is but 3,734,370, to the extent of £468,512, or, say $2,342,560; and to Ireland, with a population of 5,159,839, to the extent of £729,868, or, say $3,648,340. Thus, in addition to the great educational advantages arising from the numerous well founded and amply endowed educational institutions for the various grades and classes of the British people that have long existed in England and Wales, Scotland and Ireland, we find the government of the United Kingdom aiding elementary instruction to the extent of about $20,000,000 in one year—the combined population being but 34,862,495 souls; the United States, with a larger population, is without the advantages either of such national aid or such endowed schools as those countries possess. Even the colonies of Great Britain are equally impressed with the importance and essential necessity of general public education. Taking as an example that one of her colonies with which our relations are most intimate—the province of Ontario. Its population comprises but 1,913,460 souls, yet the amount expended there upon education in 1880 reached $3,414,267. A similar ratio of expenditure to the total population—counting the latter at 55,000,000—would call for nearly $100,000,000 in the United States.
But while it may be of interest to note what other peoples and other governments are doing toward the advancement of general education within their borders, and while the contrast with that which is done, or fails to be done, in the same direction in the United States, furnishes food for instruction and ultimate benefit, yet it by no means follows that this nation, destined, as every one of its citizens proudly believes, to march in the van of the world’s civilization, is to limit its aims, its labors, its appropriations in the furtherance of education—the prime factor in all civilization—by the standards of other nations. The rather should the comparison, while it may for the moment bring to our cheeks the blush of shame, act as a stimulus to higher effort and larger expenditure, if necessary on our part to reach that preëminent position of prosperity, power, and enlightenment, of which the intellectualalertness of our people and the genius of our institutions give abundant promise.
In considering this subject we must not fail to remember that among the nations of the world ours stands alone in this: that here the sovereignty is in the people. An ignorant sovereignty is a tyrannical sovereignty, whether held by the many or the few. Its capabilities for good can alone be drawn out by education. That Liberty sits enthroned in this land is due solely to education and that proper spirit of freedom and independence in thought and action which is begotten of education. As has been well said by another: “We have gained all that we possess by reason of the education of the individual, and we hold it upon the same tenure. What we hold for ourselves we hold for mankind, and we hold it for both upon the same condition by which it was gained, and that is the continued and universal education and development of the people.”
Every child born in this great republic is born with the inherent right to be educated. He is born heir to that popular sovereignty which, upon coming of age, he is entitled to exercise. The coming responsibilities rest upon him from his very cradle up. He has an absolute right to such an education as will enable him to properly meet them. His parents who brought him into the world weighted with such responsibility, did it with the implied obligation on their part to give him that education without which his birth would be either a mockery or a crime. As with the parents, so with the state-local, and so with the state-national. If the parents fail in meeting this obligation it becomes a binding obligation upon the state-local, and if the state-local fails the obligation devolves upon the nation.
Again, the obligation of every parent in this republic to educate his children so as to enable them in due time to intelligently and wisely exercise the great power of the franchise, implies the obligation on his part to give them, up to that point,equaleducational advantages. By a parity of reasoning it logically follows that in case of failure by parent or state-local—whether from inability or other cause—the obligation to secure to all children within its domain not only facilities, but equal facilities, for the attainment of a sufficient education to enable them to cast an intelligent ballot, rests upon the nation. Nor does this obligation cease when such equal facilities are provided. It goes further. It extends, if necessary, to the compulsion of those children to avail themselves of the facilities which the nation provides for their education.
That it is the right, then, of every American child to have a rudimentary education, and that it should be equal to that of every other American child, seems clear; and that where, through any cause, that child fails to get such education, it is the duty of the national government to enable him to gain it, seems equally manifest.
To what extent, and from what resources, the nation should grant this educational aid to its children, and through what channels and upon what basis the distribution of that aid should be made, are subjects that will now command our attention.
The burden of educating the children of the nation is a heavy one—a fact perhaps not as fully realized by our rulers and legislators as it ought to be. From the report of the Commissioner of Education, 1882-3, it appears that the estimated real value of sites, buildings, and all other school property in all the states and territories, is $216,562,197. That of course is the existing “school plant” as it may be termed; but to get such a “school plant”—utterly insufficient as it may be—has been more or less burdensome. From the same authority it appears that the amount imposed and expended for common school purposes, in all the states and territories for 1880, was $91,158,039; a large sum, yet after all but little more than half the amount absolutely needed in order to provide adequate school facilities for all entitled thereto.
A careful and conservative estimate founded upon all attainable data will show that not less than $160,000,000 annually must be provided to secure the education of all the children of our country of lawful age. Of this amount, provision, as we have seen, is already made in the various states and territories to the extent of over $90,000,000 annually. Of the various measures relating to the subject of national aid to education that have been urged upon the attention of Congress, none has ventured to appropriate a larger annual sum[J]than $50,000,000. Should Congress at any time make an appropriation of that amount, there would still be an annual deficiency of some $20,000,000.
It is not at all certain that our national legislators have considered the magnitude of the subject with which they are to deal, nor that they have all investigated it with that degree of care and seriousness which it plainly deserves and even demands at their hands.
Every one, without controversy, admits the importance of educating our children; and without doubt, every one of our legislators has not only a warm and friendly feeling for this work, but also a willingness to do something to afford it national aid. But with how many of them is this a willingness without a formed and definite purpose? It were almost better that the importance of such education should be a disputed point—that a storm of controversy should arise and shake them in its throes, forcing them to lay hold of the very horns of the sacred altar of education—rather than that the dead, arid level of inert concession should bring forth nothing save a deceptive mirage. It is time to wake up to the fact that government aid in the line of education means nothing unless it be in the form of an annual appropriation of sufficient amount to produce tangible results.
Do our legislators appreciate the significant fact that of the $91,158,039 expended on the public schools in the thirty-eight states and nine territories and the District of Columbia during 1882, more than one quarter of that entire expense was borne by the three states of Illinois, Ohio, and Iowa? That nearly one third of that great expense was borne by and expended in the four states of New York, Ohio, Illinois and Pennsylvania? That more than one half of it was borne by and expended in the six states of New York, Ohio, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Iowa and California? That nearly two thirds of it all was borne by and expended in the nine states of California, Missouri, Indiana, Iowa, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio and New York?
Of what practical avail, then, is the bill[K]which passed the United States Senate on the 7th of April last, so far, at least, as the amount to be appropriated is concerned? It proposes to appropriate a total amount of $77,000,000. That amount certainly sounds well and looks generous at first sight. But how is it appropriated? Let us see.
This $77,000,000 that looks so large and adequate, is to be scattered over the whole country, and over a period of eight years, thus:
The first year, $7,000,000—which is much less than Illinois alone gives in one year for her own children; the second year, $10,000,000—which is much less than Massachusetts and Iowa together give in one year for their own children; the third year, $15,000,000—which is much less than Ohio and Pennsylvania together give for one year’s schooling of their own children; the fourth year, $13,000,000—or about what Massachusetts, Indiana, and Wisconsin together give a year for such purposes; the fifth year, $11,000,000—or less than New York alone gives in one year; the sixth year, $9,000,000—very little more than Ohio alone gives; the seventh year, $7,000,000—or only a trifle more than Missouri and California together give in a year; and the eighth year, $5,000,000—or a trifle over what Indiana gives, and less than Iowa gives, in one year!
Now, if such appropriations as these are not absurdly inadequate, what are they?
They are limited to eight years, and during those eight years the mean average annual appropriation is less than $10,000,000. Think of it for a moment. An amount ($9,625,000) appropriated by Congress to cure the illiteracy of the whole nation—only $1,057,325 more than Illinois now spends in a year for educational purposes; only $1,361,755 more than Pennsylvania spends, and only $804,086 more than is spent by Ohio; while it is $1,797,593 less than the state of New York expends in a single year within her borders for like purposes!
Take the exact figures of the census returns, and the amount actually needed is easily ascertained for that year—though it must be remarked that the amount needed is not remaining the same, nor diminishing, but increasing every succeeding year. The school population in 1880 was 16,243,822. To educate that population required an assumed average annual expenditure of not less than $10 each, or $162,438,220. The real expenditure was but $91,158,039. Hence there was in that year a necessity for an expenditure of at least $72,085,783 more than was actually expended.
But let us examine the statistical facts a little more closely. It is true that the school population then was 16,243,822, but it is also true that of that number only 10,013,826 were enrolled in the public schools, and of these again only 6,118,331 took advantage of their opportunities for instruction by daily attendance at those schools. Here, then, we find that the $91,158,039 was expended in educating the 6,118,331 children who daily attended school, and that the actual average cost per scholar, therefore, was $14.90, and not $10. We discover also, that while 6,118,331 children were in daily attendance at the public schools, 3,895,495 children on the rolls of such schools were not in daily attendance, and that 6,229,996 other children of school age had not even the opportunity or facilities for any such education! It is plain, therefore, that had the 10,125,491 children of school age in the two latter classes—those who failed to take advantage of the school opportunities offered them, and those who had no such opportunities at all—been compelled, as they should be (except in case of sickness or other very sufficient cause), to daily attend public schools, then instead of the $91,158,039 actually expended in such schools that year, there should have been expended $242,027,855 that year, in order to give all children of school age an equal educational chance. In other words, the expenditure, as compared with the necessities of the case, left a deficit for that one year of $150,869,816.
Now it is to make up for the deficiencies in the school facilities already provided in the states and territories, that Congressional legislation and national aid is proposed. But it would puzzle the combined mathematicians of all countries and ages to demonstrate that an annual deficiency of $150,000,000, or more, can be made up by an expenditure of $77,000,000, dribbled out in annual sums varying from $5,000,000 to $15,000,000, during eight successive years.
While, however, to meet the necessities of the case fully and absolutely would call for enormous annual appropriations, yet as the utmost conservatism and moderation should govern all experimental legislation involving large appropriations, so in legislating upon this subject it were safer to adopt the basis and estimate of least requirement heretofore given, and adopt $50,000,000 as the amount that should be annually appropriated for this important purpose.
It is to be kept in mind, also, that an annual appropriation to this extent need not add one dollar to the burden of taxation now borne by the people.
In this connection it is not necessary to discuss any of the questions relating to the methods of raising our national revenue. Whatever differences of opinion there may be touching those methods or means, it must be conceded that our nation, under the present system and laws, holds a high and even commanding position among the civilized governments of the world, and that our people are enjoying more than an average degree of prosperity. It is our duty to use every effort to advance to still higher prosperity. In the meantime, however, any bill appropriating national aid to education should be based upon our present condition. Our revenue now exceeds our expenditures per annum by fully the amount ($50,000,000) sought to be appropriated by the bill referred to. Hence its enactment would not add one dollar to the taxes already imposed. It follows, then, that should Congress be asked to support a measure making annual appropriation of $50,000,000, derived from the internal revenue taxes and the sale of public lands, for school purposes, opposition to such a measure on the pretext that it would impose additional burdens upon the people would be flimsy and without force, and only transparently veil an opposition to increased facilities for educating our children.
If our children are to be provided with adequate facilities for proper and necessary instruction, the burden must be imposed in some form; and none can be devised that will bear more equally upon all, and be felt as little as this.
It is an old truism that “every rose hath its thorn.” The advance of civilization and knowledge has its drawbacks as well as its advantages. This is manifested very distinctly in one direction in our own country. The rapid invention and introduction of labor-saving machinery has had a very marked tendency to draw the laboring population from the rural districts, and congregate it at the manufacturing centers. This, although it may be attended with many important advantages, has some very serious disadvantages, and is, perhaps, in part the cause of the serious contests we have seen of late years between capital and labor. It increases the population of the cities, and proportionately decreases that of the rural districts, and, as a consequence, increases the cost of living, as it advances the price of property in the cities. It also tends very largely to increase the power and influence of corporations, monopolies, and other associations of this kind. The single item of transportation is vastly enlarged by this fact, and thus is increased the necessity for, and the power of, the railroads of our country. The effect of bringing together at these manufacturing centers large bodies of employés is, that for self-protection, combinations of labor, as against the encroachments of capital, are formed. Irritation and contests follow.
It is from these facts that we are confronted with one of the most difficult problems forced upon any nation for solution—a problem which thus far seems to be beyond the reach of legislation.
To check the advance of scientific and inventive genius, or to stop the progress of knowledge, is neither desirable, practicable, nor possible.
The only possible solution of this perplexing problem would seem to lie in the education of the masses, and thus elevating the laboring population as nearly as may be to the educational level of the capitalists—the rural districts to the educational level of the cities. By adequate national and state legislation, very marked and important progress in this respect may be secured. Should the government adopt the policy of adequate national aid to education, its distribution according to the number of persons under twenty-one years of age would perhaps be the best basis for such distribution at the start, but future experience and more exact knowledge would, no doubt, enable the remedy to be applied, in due time, more exactly to our needs. At present the statistics of illiteracy are not sufficiently definite and thorough to take them as a reliable guide in determining the basis for the distribution of so large an amount of funds.
One means, however, of meeting the difficulty named—one possible step toward the solution of this puzzling problem—is certainly within our reach. Educate the masses, elevate the laboring and producing population, and bring them up asnearly as possible to the educational plane already reached by those who hold and wield the moneyed power.
Education increases our wants and demands; increase in demand brings increase in supply; and this of necessity increases the demand for labor.
Economy on the part of the nation as well as the individual is a correct principle, and holds good in all states and conditions of life, but we must not forget that it is a relative term. For the individual who can neither read nor write to expend money for books and writing materials is a useless expenditure; but would you count that an extravagance on the part of him who can do both, so long as he keeps within his wants and means? What constitutes the difference in the application of the principle to the two cases?Education.
The pioneer farmer may have spent a life of patient toil on his farm, satisfied to live in his log cabin, with possibly a single room, a puncheon floor, and a clapboard door, unable to read or write—an upright, honest man, and probably as nearly contented as it falls to the lot of mortals to be. But mark the change! His sons and daughters are growing up toward manhood and womanhood; the free school has invaded his neighborhood; and they attend it. How soon it affects the household arrangements, manners, dress, and everything about the family! What has wrought the change? Education. Their wants, and what are now their necessities, are greatly increased. What follows? The desire to meet and supply these wants brings increased effort and industry for the purpose. And every family thus advanced in its views of what is necessary to comfort and happiness increases to the same extent the demand upon the producer and manufacturer, and thus widens the field of labor. Hence the solution of this great and knotty problem is to be reached chiefly by the education of the masses—by raising them toward educational equality with the wealthy.
There are many who delight in picturing the days of primitive simplicity, when wants were few and easily supplied; but is there one of these moralizers who would willingly go back to them? “Strict economy as gauged by our means” is a correct maxim everywhere and at all times. But civilization and enlightenment are progressive, and no laws save such as would trample under foot the inalienable rights of the people to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” can check that progress. We must therefore either foster the comparatively few more fortunate and energetic of our people, or we must endeavor by appropriate and legitimate and adequate legislation to link together and advance the entire mass. The noblest work of man is the elevation of his fellowman, and the grandest work in which a government can engage is the enlightenment of its people. But these can alone be accomplished by the aid of the great lever: Education.