incompatible in fact, they are so frequently blended in the human personality that it is sometimes impossible to fix and mark the limits of either; but they are nevertheless widely different in nature, methods, purposes, and accomplishments. Let no one persuade you that Culture leads inevitably to Efficiency, or that Efficiency grows into Culture. Much of our obfuscated philosophy in education has resulted because, perceiving that every one needs both Culture and Efficiency, we have classed the two together, have tried to obtain both by the same means, the same education, have endeavored to make the cultural subjects practical and the practical subjects cultural. The difference between the two will be made very evident by a brief analysis of Efficiency. We shall not need many words, for concerning this phase of our subject there is not much probability of misunderstanding. In this analysis I shall examine Efficiency at its highest and best, ignoring the sinister associations connected with the term but not necessarily a part of it. Efficiency implies, first of all, ability to make a good living, to get on and up in the world, to work at some calling skillfully, capably, with deftness and without friction and waste; to succeed, in the material sense of the word, that is, to make money, hold good jobs. As society is now constituted, this means mastery of some one gainful vocation-it matters not what, though, of course, some vocations demand more intelligence or manual skill or physical strength than others. In the second place, Efficiency implies certain work habits and qualities. Industry, inventiveness, energy, perseverance, patience, thrift, ambition, ability to work rapidly and easily, to eliminate useless motions, to discover the speediest mode of working well— these are some of the most important of work habits and qualities. Now, this demands intelligence, it demands a well-trained mind. To be sure, in some kinds of work a man may apparently be efficient through sheer skill or animal strength, but even here ingenuity and shrewdness and keen reasoning count. And in the higher callings great efficiency is not possible without a finely-trained mentality. It need not be a capacious mind, it may be a narrow mind--that depends upon the vocation, but it must be keen, alert, logical, able to cope with every situation, to follow up every ramification involved in the business in which it is employed. Physical health and vigor is the fourth factor in the efficient life. This includes all that has to do with preserving and improving bodily well-being, such as practical knowledge of the body and the laws of health, such as play and recreation. Finally, Efficiency in most vocations is not possible without ability to get on with our fellows. We may not be interested in them especially; but as our success depends upon our power to deal skillfully with those with whom we are brought into contact, it is evident that to be efficient we must study human nature and cultivate certain social graces. Surely it must be evident that Culture and Efficiency, as thus analyzed, have but few points in common. Culture deals with the spiritual, the emotional, the esthetic; Efficiency rules over the realm of materialism, of practicalness, of utility. Culture enriches the personality; Efficiency, the person. Culture regards life as an exploration; Efficiency, as a business transaction. Culture is esthetic play; Efficiency relates everything, even play, to work. Culture asks, "Is it true? is it beautiful? is it fine and noble?" Efficiency asks, "What are the facts in the case? What does it cost? Does it pay?" The circles of Culture and Efficiency overlap, it would seem, at only two places: both claim a well-trained intellect, and both establish relationships with human beings. But Culture prizes more highly the broad, sympathetic, catholic mind, the mind open to all truth and beauty; whereas Efficiency prizes more highly the keen, shrewd, practical mind, the mind well-stored with useful facts. And in regard to contact with life, Culture goes out from itself, wanders, somewhat aimlessly, in attractive by-paths, searching though never directly-for beauty, for the grace and glory of life, for emotional and esthetic experiences. Culture is centrifugal. Culture regardeth not the harvest, except indeed its beauty, seeketh not her own. But Efficiency is centripetal, it relates everything to itself, ignores everything that has no immediate connection with profit, is impatient with beauty for the sake of beauty, though it cultivates that beauty that is negotiable. In Culture it is what we think of other men that counts; in Efficiency it is what other men think of us. Or, consider the attitude of the two toward morality. Culture says: "Be honest, for honesty is an aspect of honor, of truth, of beauty; an honest action is in tune with the harmony of life." Efficiency says: "Be honest, for honesty is the best policy." Culture says: "Be courteous, for true courtesy comes from the heart; it is an emanation of love, goodwill, benevolence." Efficiency says: "Be courteous; it's good business." Let us not be deceived in this matter. Culture and Efficiency are not identical, not even similar. They face in opposite directions. If occasionally they meet at a common equator, yet at their extremes they are as far apart as the poles. Culture cannot be practical; Efficiency, though it assume the clothing and the manners of Culture, remains Efficiency. But-and here is one of the major tenets in my philosophy-it does not follow that, because Culture and Efficiency are not the same, they are not both essential in life, or that they may not both be acquired by the same person. Or, to state it positively, the well-rounded, evenly-balanced, full-grown individual, the happiest, most useful individual is he who combines within himself the five qualities of Culture and the five qualities of Efficiency: he who can make a good living, be thoroughly efficient, take part in practical affairs, and at the same time live a full, rich, varied life, attaining a fuller measure of Culture every year he lives. Happy is he if his vocation permits and encourages him to view existence from both angles, to travel as far east as west. In no calling, indeed, whether the ministry of the gospel or the ministry of the coal mine, need one renounce the joys and values of either the esthetic or the practical. But since some vocations lean too far in the one direction or the other, we must needs restore the balance by readjusting avocations. Life demands both. We should work and we should play-not work in order that we may have leisure to play, not play that we may have health to work, but work and play because both are necessary to fulfill our natures, to perfect and complete our lives. And if this is true, it follows that school education, which is, or should be, training and preparation for complete living, out of and beyond school, by means of complete living within school, should make contributions to both Culture and Efficiency. I say "contributions," for it is evident that school can give but a small portion of either. I would not have John cultured and Will efficient; I would have both John and Will both cultured and efficient. I prefer one man with two eyes to two men, each with one eye. (To be concluded in Education for December.) Reality. We only guess our fathers whence they sprang; English PROFESSOR FREDERICK TREUDLEY, A. M., OHIO UNIVERSITY, וווני || ATHENS, OHIO. N his "Talks with Emerson," Mr. Woodbury tells us that the great master of English advised him to spend little time upon the formal art of composition, but simply to acquire experiences and write about them in the most natural manner. Emerson's own writings, especially his journals, afford abundant proof that he practised what he preached. Robert Louis Stevenson tells how he was accustomed to carry with him two blank books, in one of which he would note interesting experiences and matters of observation, and in the other he would set down suggestive extracts from literature he had read, or perhaps descriptions of his own. The note books of Richard Jeffries, the great English naturalist, read as smoothly as his more finished writings, and the same is abundantly true of Hawthorne's and Thoreau's. It was indeed the business of all these men simply, in the words of Ruskin, to "look and tell.” They seemed to go about their business as all men do about their daily work, theirs being to catch the more fugitive elements of the life of nature or of the human soul and set them down for men to read. The result of such course of action is to confer a sort of unconscious grace because the writers seem not to be aware of anything else save the expression of experiences which had become a part of the inner life. Some years since, Professor Bliss Perry published in the Atlantic Monthly a brief account of an interview he had had with Charles Dudley Warner, not long before the latter's death. In the conversation Mr. Warner said to him that he had accustomed himself never to accord an interview with any one, whoever he might be, without giving him undivided attention, for he said that he felt he owed full attention to every one with whom he conversed by reason of the worth of human personality. He |