travel, or their literary, scientific, or artistic education.

And what are the elements of this tropical curriculum which give it
such immense educational value? I think they are manifold. A few only
may be selected as of typical importance.

In the first place, because first in order of realisation, there is its
value as a mental _bouleversement_, a revolution in ideas, a sort of
moral and intellectual cold shower-bath, a nervous shock to the system
generally. The patient or pupil gets so thoroughly upset in all his
preconceived ideas; he finds all round him a life so different from the
life to which he has been accustomed in colder regions, that he wakes
up suddenly, rubs his eyes hard, and begins to look about him for some
general explanation of the world he lives in. It is good for the
ordinary man to get thus unceremoniously upset. Take the average young
intelligence of the London streets, with its glib ideas already formed
from supply and demand in a civilised country, where soil is
appropriated, and classes distinct, and commodities drop as it were
from the clouds upon the middle-class breakfast-table--take such an
intelligence, self-satisfied and empty, and place its possessor all at
once in a new environment, where everything material, mental, and moral
seems topsy-turvy, where life is real and morals are rudimentary--and
unless he is a very particular fool indeed, what a lot you must really
give that blithe new-comer to turn over and think about! The sun that
shifts now north, now south of him; the seasons that go by fours
instead of twos; the trees that blossom and bear fruit from January to
December, with no apparent regard for the calendar months as by law
established; the black, brown, or yellow people, who know not his creed
or his social code; the castes and cross-divisions that puzzle and
surprise him; the pride and the scruples, deeper than those of