"MAN IN HIS TIME PLAYS MANY PARTS."

Hawke's Bay Weekly Times, Volume 2, Issue 89, 14 September 1868, Page 221

"MAN IN HIS TIME PLAYS MANY PARTS."

A, Lecture, delivered/orithe 28th August/before: - the Napier l[oung : Neii’s Mutual improvement ; by Mr; J. - Stables, ; Vi<?e-i?resident.'. Me. Ghaieman!, r-Mj : appearanVe: befbre ri- leotuyer to night;.has.npi r beerita matter,of my jown .choice.. .It wbuld : Have been- much - more satisfactory to'! nie had the responsibility 'of - reading a public lee-, trire in connection with .the Society devolved upon some one; better known, and more qualified;for., the.undertaking than 1 ain ; but,'liayingjaceepted. tl.ie,task, I.shall inake a bespeaking your patien;ce, : ;asj 7 well as..your generous criticism,! en'deavoiV.toacquit, iriyself of it to the best of'my? ability.; . ' ;r.:lt hais been:said' that ajgopd. play needs no prologue, and.-that a bad piny may, be much improved 'by a :r go’od. prologue! Nevertheless,[ although a good pl iy is none the worse for, haying » good prologue, arid that a bad play, may- ba thereby much. im : proved, I? doubt whether; vou "wilT.be-in-dined to' allow, that a bad- lecture will-be much improved by a gorid apology or a lengthy preface:’; 'Yet ,1 must ask your indulgence-while I try to point out a few of what may be termed the landmarks which, must -,bc, constantly- borne in mind in orderi to.anive at a correct, estimate, of my jottings by the. wayside, for that is a more appropriate name for my production than a corrected lecture. In the first place, then, these jottings are intended to bo suggestive. In the next p’ace, although the opinions: and reflections of. thinking inen on the tendencies of society;.both,old and younsr, to which reference will be inade in the sequel, relate more especially to so. ciety in.the old country, it is humbly hoped that they may afford some subjects, for serious consideration in matters deeply affecting the present" and future welfare of our adopted; home. Again, I must not be identified with, or held to endorse to their full extent "all .tlie opinions which, may be brought urider review. And if the general tone.be considered, too censorious, remember that w,e . learn far more real good'from uim.who fearlessly exposes, our foibles than fromhim whoh.estows upon-us injudicious iiattery. If. you blame me for siding too muck with.the censor, I must again ask you to remember that the many, very many,.excellericies of which, as a nation aud as corn; munitieSj We.have just reason to v be proud,, are ueyer for an instent lost sight of. And, lastly,;i at onco plead guilty to the charge Do not be of my iboaghautibri will riever fdr d moment- aliow! me to fancy.; myself at., the schoolmaster’s desk, dut you will all agree that upon, the young men arid maidens,- the hoys and girls of the ..present depends .the future-position which :New Zealand will assume..; amoug the. colonies, of: the British. Kmpire, and in its influence ..for . good in the general civilization of. mankind. , And now, haying hastily pointed but .these landmarks, which I wish you to keep in view, I proceed at once to the subject; » :

All the -world's a stage, - And.all the mou aad. women merely players They have iheir exits and. their entrances. And one man in Jus time plays, many parts. ■

. Such was the estimate of society formed by, one who had studied it cloVeiy,—one wi o could probe to their depths arid assign their true value, to the motives and ierilings which, prompt the actions of meri iri’ "their various pursuits, and guide them in the ordinary intercourse of every-day life. These are: words in which he gave utterance to his convictions .some three. huridred^years ago. To those who canlook upon the turmoils,, the jealousies, the anxieties, arid the multifarious pursuits, of pleasure in this world with a serious, thinking mind, or with the practical, eye of pur poet-philoso-pher—somewhat •„of epicurean, and cynic though he; was—the words contain a world of meaning, and will not inaptly describe many of the.e.vil .tendencies -of society, at the present day. --With no pretensions to imitate the great dramatist;—

To hold, as ’twere, the. mirror up to Nature; to show Virtue her own feature, Scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure,;—. - , . ,

And with Tess attempt to sermonize upon thriir meaning/you -will - admit, • before I reach tke rind’ of* these :;wayside jottings, thatthe motto is‘not altogether unsuitable. Sh'akrispeare evidently thought, what our inostfriminent-thiriking-mon have for years, been.kssertirig,'that-society, as it appears is- composed oi shams aud sensations. In the -exprrissiv e Iringuage of arid sensuality, there: would seem fobs an eritire absence’ bf-reality—a: living* in an idriaiwbrld: of;an r -imaginary -milirihium—a ; whirl;’"of- - excitement, either- in •-*&e' '^UUard'- tables on the the iritririariiesXof theinp less ex'citing/ but/in- the opinion of. a• great-many., much more real, anxietiea-of t be K xohangei’ ’ TElo truthfbf this* statement..willi bri' at once rividerit to thbse convorsant, everidn a lirriited‘degrrie, w;ith-tiie -ourrent iperib'dical!literritiirri t :pf tlieday/ Ariduf more convinb* i^§p v r 'wanting; you /have drily to bprin ariy ohe of three-fourtbs of thri most propular,beoaase;.most?fushionable,workß pfsrfictiori Tpubh&hed- within; the i last •. fifty. y&Buis. cruiciblo has detected -sharoa bven in ’ those great >iriathbughfs; and :absprb the'/energiesjofrfthe •political: arid.’sboial'reformera of.' the.age; p musf'agairiTquotptoyoulTiielrixpressiye I words of Garlyle. He says;-—** Free

freo writing, free trading; reTorna league, arid all; thri other • modern , panacea fys all the ills ~t hat : affl.ict .h umanity, some PS?Retake tq mean free racnrigw^ the. ckreer. ’of’ clieam aiid nasty.r, -.7 7.7; ' •) 777 / ..J;’ '..7 -T*tiiait , there is al vast /satiricalv.cynicism." pervading pefibdi'cril ririd-novril- wTitirig: Perhapavit may not be either, profitable desirable [o give tob much attention to thri mode of thinking and speaking suggested by dins style of writing.;;" but we caririot afford to neglect the lessons of our censors Tq be,told our faults, and have our foibles exposed to public ridicule,.may .not be at all ; yot if wewould aipfi at ex* cercising an influence for good, either; as a nation or as communities, these faults arid foibles must be pointed out in their true colors, if we would seriously set about correcting them. Todvvell.on the perfec tioiis certainly shows the imperfections iii bolder relief; but to-dwell on the perfections will never correct the imperfections. -These must, be.pointed out, and corrected too, if we would have the picture present an excellent and pleasing whole. And so ,-it is with the. custo r s of society. In the social, gathering, wherever it may be, or by .whatever oaineknown, the chief aim, the guiding principle of mankind that of gratification and pleasure.' And *Ol that pursuit no one will deny that man is directed and governed almost enolusi vely by his feelings. Now, without ventu-ing amongst the arcana of metaphysics, let me briefly state that those feelings,.although in. number and variety their name-may legion, have been classified by aa eminent philosopher into .two divisions,.according to. the. department--of .our nature which they. . occupy—feelings . corporeal an d feelings intellectual: the former all usually termed sensations, the (latter sentiments. And according as our sensations and sentiments are allowed their full, free, and unimpeded energy,,so will the/happiness and pleasure, .in other words; gratification resulting from their exercise be great or little., .We have all of us sufficient practical knowledge:at least of metapliysics to be aware that different feeliugs are stronger, constitutionally in some than in others. We are also all of us sufficiently learned in that abstrusp science to know that, according as a sensation is indulged or.a.sentiment cultivated, so will it obtain strength and a guiding p jwer over the rest of .our natures. .

j Now. I proneed to point out—-very curso .rily, aud in rather: a dif-jointed manner, it must, be confessed—how ..the customs of society; ari we see tbem.inbaur day.bearing ru.le,r’fcsiei:2srirtiaiu ftudit igS-~and'tHese.ri.ot thorbest—-to tlie negleot or entire, destruc ’ tion of others much more worthy of our attention. It .may be true that these customs and usages have little or no power because.:they have few or. no subjects, in our; lit le island or.in our little community; but you cannot too soon begin:to train the aa/ling as you would have the tree grow. I carry with me throughout thes9 ifrife, threadbare, axiomatic seuliments—“ Man, from his cradle to his .grave is a creature of imitation”:.; “ the child is father of the man.” men and women are.but children of. a larger growth” .I. must .not quote Latin,;so,.- T will ; give : you? : a veiy-lame translation by. ;:saying—the.youth as the youth -imitateritheiman.” These .almost: proverbiaLcexpressioire embody this truth --as members of society Twe grow up as society trairis.us; and ; we must acknowledge that we rare, much more given to imitate the j trappings .-rather . than that which.the trappings? indicate:; to. fix our attention upon. the shadow rather than upon the substance.

Let us now shortly eura up the various patterns of society, as we find them seated to our view. In ;the-..first; placed! must state th:it there is a. universal,arid very just complaint of the. disappearance from auio!!gst us of the: scholar,%—of him who devoted himself to learning for learning’s sake,—who found his reward in the triumphs of intellect,.arid not. in, the. giddy whirlpooT of sensational pleasures. . The word study, , it is: said, ;has almost disappeared from-the language; Literary, men read now-a-.days, they do. not study. - And who is there that will deny that there is a sansutional gratification in reading-—more especially in -reading of a particular kind; and that, too:the most popular, or, what is the same thing, the! most fashionable ? A Milton’s little parlor, .an .Addison’s attic, are merely, historical reminiscences , of a .past age. i: An. Erskine Nicol, or ,a Noel Baton could not; in. this age depict tlie student standing, on his chair, eagerly searching for some abstruse: worm-eaten volumein the topi shelfof bis ;book-case, while-. Tabby is meanwhile, quietly helping herself to the beefsteak on the table. L; Our literary lion.;of' the .present day is a much; courted., arid iguestc’in ;the dining-rpoiu and..,the .parlor./. Hu can; critiojae the cuisine he is. .actually a ebrinoisseur of;.wiries. -. He has.!beopme' a cotnmercial -article, and has. learned. to. value hinwelf;arcLhis7pr6ductions ; in!the current coimof theriealm.!. , ;"j., .7 /. ’Take agafiit: the man of.tlie .world.,/ ;He is a .cynic .in reality! .? He l\as- learned/to ▼iesr*.WitkriiMxbasm.' ; ? shams,, the jpetty •jealousies/, arid the . selfish.,mptives .of 'sbr ciety j 7 : and-the •foehng.leffc7upqn:Ws mind; t ’rie : rionclusiqri : which he draws, .is anything butTWbrtby bf iinitation.. , ‘‘His cy.niqism is .-the systematic- depreciation of . humari natl^ejvtjhe^ystemat^^|oye of.himself arid depre6iafcipri^p.f(!.i£dpthatfdoeri;hotiriiiriister systematic, deriial of (all great virtue, ,hero*

of charofffcer(ex- ' cepfcdn deadineii| ao'd^dmed)^ 11 an-iE thb ; :i >: mean "an^ae^sh^ that' arft J qpmmitfcedli Education,'pbsir "* tibn, 'andi lacks of'n^^;aii^^h|^a^hfhhar%. w .''S' Withal- 1 liais toHhe ladies, t *JSo-pnb r jdaii pdiiftmess/ Wifch'them / coatradiction! —lie is a universal ■ - Sprite. ? For cfce.is'dio 'marrying f than.-' He looks .ujbori. womankind only’as so mdny i toys whibh to amuse and; f pass* away r hisevening; hours; or so many ornamente with which ‘to set off a drawing-room*. : Yet see him as lie traverses: the Tooms—now .exchanging' compliments with-Bohae handsome dowager, iand;anoh whisperingairy nothings into,the.ears of, her tera. _ -. •• In thus pandering,to his personal i glati- . fications ho has only a too' eager copier fn-* $ his younger compeer; The young manplunges w;ith all the freshnessof yoii'h into the vortex of sonsuality.' Appetite-" has not yet palled. He prides himself-on-his knowledge of theianguage andphilor f sophy of the demimonde. In society-he is - a moat faithful follower of Count SmorlTork.' H is knowledge of chemistry enableshim on’y to judge of .the qualities of, the, narcotic weed, and the excellencies of; meerschaum. His reading may be easily, guessed. His wit is confined to : a too thorough acquaintance with the c u'se ofcerfcain quaint modes of speech—more; Correctly , termed slang expressions—which' assuredly do nqt indicate an elevating ten* dency in the general'tone of -the society; with which he if most familiar. G-eography-does,not'tell him where ; his- home or ' his’ dwelling-placq is to be -found—it only guides him tq some out-of the-way place; where he “hangs out,” or “ goes to-robst.” He never leaves or retires from a room or a meeting; but he- has some; underhand way iu which he “ slopes,” or “slides.” I really cannot pronounce that other most frightful' word—“ skedaddle”—by which he indicates his departure —I verily belie ve it can be' correctly used • only by a true lineal descendant of Brother Jonathan* He never goes to dine; but during-some part of the day he would seem to enjoy a “feed” of “grub” or “tucker.” If either income nor salary has he—his ideas of political economy are confined to something which he'calls a “ screw,” twisted appal- - not from an. ; employer, but from, some individual known to him as a ‘'governor. 1 ’ He is never in good;health, but reports himself to* his fellows in so me/sort of condition which'he describes sis " bang,” —but why. pursuerthqdescription further? ,And;yet it.. k tppehgf .us. - nearly," .fp'r every., one of " life man deems witty, you.must have beard iu this our island home. . ' ' • -. It is with a feeling of great trepidation that I venture on the next part ofthesubjoct. And yet consistency demaxids that the pencil of the critic must not be confined to the exclusive delineation of the masculine models of society; for the fc* minine members thereof have been blamed, and, it must be owned, with too much truth, for the position assumed by the opposite sex. I can* only promise at-the outset to make the critique as gentle-as-con-sistency will permit. .Those at all acquainted -with the writings of Thackeray and Dickens —and ivlio are not?—cannot but‘be struck with the fact that their women are-either unprincipled schemers or affectionate fools. On the other, hand GH-orgo Eliot/and'similar writers-pourtray many a- ty e of noble womanhood, whose character it is both., profitable' and .pleasing to contemplate. B at here let ine again repeat; that we ‘ cannot affbird'iki'-neglect the lessons of Itoewcensors. On thief part of the subject - more cri tics of the day are notfreyfrom the general failing of man- . kind." They-;delighb to dwell upon the excellencies; of the past.' 5 ’ They hold them up tovview ? aß'far transcending* even the good of ‘the present. Hear the description of the girl of a former age :—“ Time- was when-the phrase ‘a- fair young English girl ’ meant the ideal of womanhood—toois at least of home birth and breeding. J lt meant a creature generous, capable,* and modest ; something franker than a : French woman' and more to be'trusted'-than «in Italian;’ as brave as an American, but m're refined; as domestic asaGeruiau, and more gi aceful ;—av girl who Could bo trusted ‘uloue, if need* be, because* of ; the innate' purity "and ; dignity of - her -iiat-ure, buc who was neither bold in beariiVg nor masculine in mind a girl : whoushe married, would' be : • her husband’s* •co'mpanion and’friend, but never -his,rival; o ie who/would consider their : interests identical, and not hold* him.;'ae:.!Sb.indch game for spoil; who. would make his -house his true home and place'of rest;; ,not< a mere passßge piace for vanity and ostentation; to go-through; a tendor mother, an -industrious housekeeper,” &e. How ’unlike-the picture with which we are presented- of-her modern' representative. . B ut-; standing what, cynical: Critics may: I firmly believe that; the’. //■ girl' of the paSt\is " still the’ fair giish’iifDbf the/present; "ltds;tirti]i3.tiievfcx*» tcavagahees- of her dress,: the;• size ■ of 1 1 er bonueh or her* br/dhedength. of ; lier traih liave not/Cscaped the* cri- : / iimkthV -7 The r person’ have been most uuspanhgty / spibuousness/df.thqse whoMyeb'eenselbct? ’/ ed as types-bycynicol shefrtay gairty;—l caxmot ehdbrse' the bpiuzoxis of "

those n(cal critig3..J[ moat firmly believ e there aro mauy nolsle examples of the ari of the • i'Btalliio befojirid., innocent re» c^tion^,,;. JPjn r tlifl contrary, I, {<i^^/spj|]iw^7m6re:;e^Temiig y t ]'mpx'e' T manning,, more elevating, than me; social gathering, the'?- evening party, or the ball-' beauty, and intelli gence.bearthe,sway...These are scenes these are proofs of our.civilization of which ■wdihave; just, cause to be proud! The object of these references is to fix attention upon (he .tendencies pf the social gathering when under, the guidance.pf feelings and motives prompted-by affectation and selfishness. I would wish to fix your attention upon the faet that these extravagances arise more from the fault of early education than the natural inclination of the heart. And long may-;the‘.fair young English girl continue to‘be.the pride and the boast of our nation, let me also draw, your attention to the fact that, these tendencies are not the growth r of one year, nor twenty ; they are the offspring ofj I might almost say, genei> ptionß of neglected or improper training. To try and. trace these to their roots would involve the consideration of a subject far beyond our present scope, not to say inappropriate to a lecture room such as this. Hut to keep true to our general principle in these jottings, not to go beyond, the appearance of things, it is a grave truth, that you, young ladies, whether married or single, are responsible for.the moulding of the principles and manners of the girls of the Hsing generation. And you, young men, have .in your hands the training of the youths that, are growing up around you. Can you bp ignorant of the fact that from, the earliest dawn of intelligence they are your most faithful pupils ? They imitate most closely s your language and address; they <?opy your habits—ay, even to the style of wearing your, hat and the cut of your. coat., Great is your responsibility for their future behaviour. These conclusions must be apparent to the most superficial observer. It is nevertheless true that the evil tendencies have been greatly fostered,-* if not entirely produced by the deficiencies of early training. And to a few of these .1 shall now very shortly ask you to turn your attention. I- must not omit the powerful influence which you ladies exercise upon ns of the rougher mould. Indeed the youDg lady of the present age is* held by many able write) s of both sexes to.be responsible for therein of cynicism which now pervades the masculine portion of the community. - The part of the subject which I now -enter upon is not one to be thought of without a feeling of the gravest responsibility. It.is not.one to be passed over with a dramatic touch. It is' one which has long occupied, and at the present time •does .occupy, the most earnest consideration of the ablest men in every rank and profession.; And if/iii the following observations and references, the all-important jfature of the theme may seem to be lost sight of . in an attempt at raciness, believe me it wiU only be done for the purpose of relieving the dulness of what is usually deemed a very dry subject;- for i give utterance to deep-seated convictions, —convictions formed not only from long consideration of the opinions of able writers, but from personal experience and observa (ion—a professional experience (I state it without any affectation on my own part) of some fifteen years.. But, once more, do . not be alarmed; I do not intend to you to a theory of practical education. 1 Started with the object of pointing out defects, and to that line I adhere, i have no pretensions now to be the architect; yet : it will not be denied that in practical life the architect has often been indebted to the builder’s criticism in the detection of faults>in the. general plan. _ Having previously come to the conclusion, that the ladies are our masters, it is. no more than justice that they should now claim the first share of our attention. The general complaint at the present day is that the education of girls studies too much, effect instead of reality. With how much justice the complaint is made 1 leave it to your observation and experienci to determine. Every boy who is acquainted with his Pbsedrus, or girl who knows her Ghambaud, remembers the fable of a certain, animal who clothed himself with the skin of. q lion. Hear how it has been translated into English by one of the ablest thinkers of modern times;—“There M; such a thing as young persons endeavouring to persuade themßeives and endeavouring to persuade others that they know about things when they do not know more than the outside skin of. them.” Again :-r-“A . girl,” says Mr Fawcett, “.usually spends her time, not in learning music, but in acquiring dexterity in playing Upon the piano ; not in studying language, hut in acquiring conversational fluency. . . . The ordinary school lessons seem to he given not to cultivate the understanding, but the memory” I conclude the short reference .to this part of the subject with; one more extract; . And in. proof of the statement which I formerly advanced, that the; tendencies of society, in so far as they are ; the result of defective education, axe. the,growth, .not of years, but of generations, 1 may inpution that ihe extract was written upwards of fprty years ago by awell-kubwu philosopher; the father, n too, of a-family of : daughters;— “* Well/ . exelmmed a young lady ; just returned, from iny at last finished ; indeed it womd be hard if, after four years complete, -Let me see ; " as; to French,l mistress; ohthat, and speak.it, ifpossihle, with more fluency than Engl.ah. My uuivcraally . adimired, eßpeifuafly the. water colours;arid flowers, which 9X9 Jbeafltiful; certainly, Music d have

learned till lam perfectly i sick . ofdt;; -but now that we have a'grand piano it will'lie delightful to play when-we have company; And, then .there are my, songs, which everybody alio vvs I sing • w.ith taste, and as it is what so few people can pre-tend'ttr,-I.am.particularly, glad that I can And then iny dancing and waltzing, in which dur '.master himself "owned he could takerne ho farther. Just the figure for it, certainly it would be Unpardonable if I did not excel. As to .common things—geography, grammar, history, astronomythank my'stars I have got through, them all; so that I may " consider myself riot only thoroughly accomplished, but also thoroughly .well informed. Well; to be sure! how much I have fagged through I—the only wonder is how one head can contain it. all.’”

The defects above alluded to, many of them at least, may with equal justice be charged against the system .of training Dursued in the education of boys. These defects have of late years aroused the attention, not only of thinking men, but have engaged the most earnest consideration of the legislature of England. You are aware that an educational commission was appointed some years ago by the British Parliament to inquire into the general conducting of public educational establishments, with a view to pointing out the deficiencies most loudly complained of, and of suggesting remedies for their improvement. The deficiencies pointed out are many in number and of very serious import. But they may be generally classified into two. The public education of boys is censured as being either too classical or too commercial. In some -public schools it is asserted that the scholars are taught nothing but Latin and Greek, and to imitate in not very elegant verse the writings of ancient writers in those languages. In others, again, it is asserted that the leading defects are, that everything is sacrificed to the practical. Nothing is studied except what tends to the practical business of life. The elevating, the ennobling, the humanising part (for well did our forefathers name the study of the classics the “ Humanities ”) is entirely made to give place to the. commercial part —which in plain English means that boys are taught nothing except those branches which are essentials of the art of making money —the Sroxwiesenschaften of the German, which Hamilton quaintly translates the “Bread and Butter Sciences of Education.” I shall not tax your patience by entering more particularly into this part of the subject than by a few short references to the opinions of the commissioners and other leading men upon the matter. One writer asserts that that the education acquired by boys at our public schools consists of some conversational knowledge of Tia.<nn J Greek, and one or two modern languages; a strong class feeling, and a thorough knowledge of cricket. Boys, again,- are said to be sent up for scholarships, or seek public employment, who are deeply read in their Virgil and Horace, Taciius and Cicero; and can do great credit to themselves by the excellence of their Greek hexameters, who are yet entirely ignorant of such mystical terms as the Buie of Three, and to whom the very name of English grammar is an abomination or something altogether too vulgar to mention. On the other hand it cannot be denied that utilitarianism is i lie predominant feature in by far the greater number of educational establishments. In this age of free racing for wealth it is almost a matter of impossibility to avoid it. And that is the shoal to which in the colonies we are drifting must he apparent to any one who will take the trouble to give the least attention to the subjeot. Ah, sir, the public teacher is rarely asked to see to the mental development of his pupil, to cultivate and direct his reasoning faculties, to encourage him onwards in the acquisition of facts as to the evidences of knowledge, and to teach his mind to form a correct estimate of the value of those evidences. But lie is invariably asked to teach him something that will be useful to him in after life ; those branches which he will require in the pursuit of his calling, whatever that may be. Such individuals forget that the best tempered implement is comparatively useless in the hands of the unskilful workman. It is quite true that a man may saw wood without being "able to reason as to the rules for the various parts of the operation ; but what I mean to assert is that a man who can so reason on the principles and rules will saw wood much better, “Who,” says John Stuart Mill, “ would not wish to know why a pump, raises water ? why a lever raises a heavy weight ? why it is hot at the tropics arid cold at the poles? why the moon is sometimes dark and sometimes bright? Do we not feel that he who is totally ignorant of these things, let him be. ever so skilled in a particular profession, is not an educated man, but an ignoramus.”. Again —“it is most important to understand the value of instruction as a: training and disciplining- process to fit the intellect for the proper work of a human being. .... Facts and rules are merely, the materials of our knowledgethe mind is the instrument.; . .-. . It is much easier to acquire facta and rules than to judge accurately what they prove.” Surely, then, we cannot over-estimate the importance of the cultivation of the mind, the preparation which is to be employed upon them. To Bupply facts and rules is a most important; nay,-a most essential department of our work;; but tq train the mind to make a proper use of them is a far higher, and still more important work. ; And this latter is really what ranks us as >' a profession.' It is a truth which must be patent to; all that the mind, both in young and old, seeks relax-ation-seeks excitement, if you will—-in iomething apart from the ordinary routine, of labor.” In other words, i. is a necessity

pfjour natural constitution:to :seok pleasure, and if we are unable" to find it, either from defective training in youth or led" on by the -whirl of-vanity and frivolity around us, in the intellectual, we assuredly seek.it in the sensational.' And this conclusion leads back again to. the principle at first enunciated, that the eyiLtendencies of modern society are, so far as untoward influence goes, to be sought for in defective education. Far be it from me to undervalue the part of school instruction. On the contrary, I hold that the grand end and aim of all instruction is to fit the youth for the business of life. “It was certainly not the object of Demosthenes to make the Athenians cry out, ‘What a magnificent orator/ but to make them cry out, ‘Let us march against Philip/ ” But it is unreasonable to suppose for a moment that the theoretical and practical are in any degree antagonistic in the work of the education of the young. Nay; so closely are they allied that it can only be an unthinking individual who could imagine the possibility of their separation. And he is not only a most unskilful, but a most injurious workman—one, I should say, altogether unqualified Tor his duty, who, in supplying information regarding the materials, does not at the same time teach the method of making a skilful use of-them ; whq does not make the communication of the facts and rules of knowledge the means of training the mind to use them Correctly and profitably. This is a subject which concerns the settlers of New Zealand closely—is, indeed, in a measure, knocking at your doors. It is pleasing to think that our public men are turning their attention in this direction. But something more must be done than merely speaking about or getting up reports upon the subject. Look around you: the boys and girls growing up in your midst are the future fathers and mothers of New Zealand. You see opening into the full blossom of womanhood those upon whom in a great measure the character of society in the next generation will depend. You see already opening into vigor the minds of your future legislators and magistrates. Surely it is a subject that forces* itself home to the most serious consideration of every thinking mind. In the matter of supply it will not be denied that hitherto in the colonies much more attention has been paid to the quantity than to the quality of education. It has been said publicly, and with too much truth, that the profession to which I belong has become a refuge for those who are unfit for anything else; that anyone who can initiate the youthful mind into the mysteries of the process of finding the amount of certain sums of money, and if the interest thereon so much the better, thinks himself and is taken by others as a duly qualified public teacher. Never was a more baneful idea prevalent in a community. Would you trust the lives of your children in the hands of an unskilful physician?' And will you trust in the hands of the incompetent what is even of more vital importance —that upon which in a great measure depends their future well-being? I am well aware that I lay myself open to criti cisrn. I fear it not, because I court it; and I can with the utmost confidence ap peal to the experience of my professional brethren that what we have to complain of in our intercourse with parents and guardians is not that they interfere with us too much, but that the interest displayed in our work amounts in many instances to indifference, and even to neglect. But I will tax your patience no farther on this part of the subject. It is one which would require a separate lecture to do it even small justice. I shall close with a quotation from one of the greatest philosophers of our day:—“ We know,” says Sir William Hamilton, “ very few things from simple apprehension. ... We depend for almost ali the valuable information (conducive to our mental development) on evidence external to ourselves; and we are by our unaided efforts very unsafe hands at estimating the true value of this evi dence. . . Education is properly so called when its aim is to correct this infirmity. . . . Self-activity is the indispensible condition of mental improvement; and education is only so when it supplies incitements to this spontaneous exertion.” Citizens ol .Napier, settlers of Hawke’s Bay,—lt is such an education which you must supply if you would see your eons and daughters grow up fitted for the real business of life; if would Bee them attain to the perfection of man, “ the full development of all our faculties, mental, corporeal, intellectual, and moral.” It just occurs to me that I have mixed up the opinions of two eminent thinkers in : the above quotation, not having had either of the books beside me, and it is a considerable time, since I read them; yet I believe I am indebted for the quotations both to Sir W. Hamilton and John Stuart Mill.

And now, Mr Chairman, in conclusion, permit me a word about the society under whose auspices this meeting is convened. Like our amiable and peace-loving, though a little excitable brethren of the Emerald Isle, we have been sadly , misunderstood and grievously. misrepresented. It has been asserted that the society in its working militates against the welfare of another educational institution in ..the place-r-I mean the Napier Athensenm —and this . is the “ unkindest cut of all.” So, far is, this from being the case that in all our extraneous endeavors we have had constantly before our minds the promotion, of’that institution, both . directly and‘ indirectly. Indeed, .the.present course of lectures/so far as they have. had. a financial bearing, have for their objeot the increase pf . the funds of trie Athenaeum. Again, we have been told that. the name, of the Society points it out as partaking too much of a sohoolboy character; but “ what’s in a

name ?”—I need not .quote the; old trite Baying with, which you are all familiar; and as to what is done there the, most expressive answer I could give would he “ Come and see.” Beading is an absolutely necessary arid a most profitable employ - ment of time, and study is a far better ; but both of these will fall far short of their grand aim unless we have an opportunity of exchanging ideas with our fellows upon our views regarding the opinions of men, and the principles which guide the progress of society in our day. "We have struggled on manfully against many unfavorable influences for a considerable time, and now we have come to the conclusion that it will be better for us to give up, at least for the present, although it is a pity that a society of the kind should not be able to maintain au existence amongst, us. You have doubtless read with interest the account of the inauguration of the N.ew Zealand Institute at Wellington. A similar Institute, indeed, I believe, a branch of the same Institute, was inaugurated some months ago in Auckland. Why should not there" be a Napier branch of the same ? Is there no scientific research—mineral, botanical, or otherwise —to be encouraged amongst ns ? Is it not desirable that we should have an opportunity of exchanging opinions upon the literature or polities of the day ? Is it not desirable to encourage the cultivation-of taste,by stimulating each other, and the young especially, to make themselves acquainted with the writings of our eminent authors in every department of literature ? Surely Napier is not the only place in New Zealand which affords no field for sucli pursuits. And why should we not annually have a series of public lectures of a more popnlaa, interesting, and instiuctive character, where we could be cheered with the presence and intelligence of our fair friends ? My own humble opinion is that such things can be done; and I fepl most thoroughly convinced that there is intelligence and public spirit in Napier more than sufficient not only to do them, but to do.them well.

It only remains for me now, sir, to announce that this, if lecture it can be called, is the last of the present series. The ob ject of these lectures were well stated by the President of the Society, his Honor the Superintendent, when introducing to you the first lecturer. It was to provide interesting and instructive entertainment in a manner which in every community has been found to be highly beneficial. As Vice-President of the Society, I have to tender thanks on behalf of the members to the Lord Bishop of Waiapu, Mr Colenso, and Mr Macmichael, for having kindly come forward to assist ns in this matter, as well as to his Honor the Superintendent for the interest he has taken in forwarding the objects he had in view. And it is a subject of great satisfaction to ns to find that their labors have been so well, appreciated by the public generally. Whether a successful- effort can be made to get up another series remains to be seen. Let us hope that many intelligent and liberalminded amongst us, both young men and those more advanced in life, will not only oome forward. cheerfully to give public lectures, but inaugurate and carry out successfully the “Napier Institute.” These jottings having been throughout intended to be suggestive, cannot better be wound up than in the well-known lines of a living poet:—

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, “ Life is but an empty dream! , For the soul is dead. that , slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real 1 Life is earnest!.. And the grave is not its goal; “ Dust thou art, to dust returnest,”. Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not'sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act that each .to-morrow Bind us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting; And our hearts, though stoiit and brave. Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to t-io grave. In the World’s broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb driven cattle; Be a hero in the strife • Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant— Let the dead Past bury its dead— Act, —act in the living Present, Heart within, aud God o’erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of Time; Footprint-Si that perhaps another, Sailing o’er Life’s solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked .brother. Seeing, shall take hears again. Let us, then, be up and doin?,With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor aud to. wait.