the most well-bred manner imaginable. It is only the ill-affected, the
malcontents, who dwell upon such details. Is this not, indeed, a most
beautiful world, and ours the land of opportunity, progress, education?
Let our faces, then, be ever glad and shining. Let us tune ourselves with
the Infinite; let a golden thread run through all our days; no frowns, no
grouches, no scolding--no, no! No ingratitude for all the bounties of
Providence. Let us, then, be up and doing.--Doing, certainly; but why not
think a little too?

Why is thinking in such disfavor? Why is thinking, about subjects and
things, the one crime never forgiven by respectability? We have given
away our resources, what should have been our common wealth; we have
squandered our land, wasted our forests. "Such trifles are not my
business," interrupts History, rather feverish of manner; "my duty to
record and magnify the affairs of the great."--Allow me, madam; we have
given away our coal, the wealth of the past; our oil, the wealth of
to-day; except we do presently think to some purpose, we shall give away
our stored electricity, the wealth of the future--our water power which
should, which must, remain ours and our children's. "_Socialist_!"
shrieks History.

The youth of Abingdon speak glibly of Shepherd Kings, Constitution of
Lycurgus, Thermopylae, Consul Duilius, or the Licinian Laws; the more
advanced are even as far down as Elizabeth. For the rich and unmatched
history of their own land, they have but a shallow patter of that; no
guess at its high meaning, no hint of a possible destiny apart from glory
and greed and war, a future and opportunity "too high for hate, too great
for rivalry." The history of America is the story of the pioneer and the
story of the immigrant. The students are taught nothing of the one or
the other--except for the case of certain immigrant pioneers, enskied