with everything around them which they have the power of improving, if it
be at all ungraceful, superfluous, tawdry, ridiculous, unwholesome. I
would make them discontented with what they call their education, and say
to them--You call the three Royal R's education? They are not education:
no more is the knowledge which would enable you to take the highest
prizes given by the Society of Arts, or any other body. They are not
education: they are only instruction; a necessary groundwork, in an age
like this, for making practical use of your education: but not the
education itself.

And if they asked me, What then education meant? I should point them,
first, I think, to noble old Lilly's noble old 'Euphues,' of three
hundred years ago, and ask them to consider what it says about education,
and especially this passage concerning that mere knowledge which is now-a-
days strangely miscalled education. "There are two principal and
peculiar gifts in the nature of man, knowledge and reason. The one"--that
is reason--"commandeth, and the other"--that is knowledge--"obeyeth.
These things neither the whirling wheel of fortune can change, nor the
deceitful cavillings of worldlings separate, neither sickness abate, nor
age abolish." And next I should point them to those pages in Mr.
Gladstone's 'Juventus Mundi,' where he describes the ideal training of a
Greek youth in Homer's days; and say,--There: that is an education fit
for a really civilised man, even though he never saw a book in his life;
the full, proportionate, harmonious educing--that is, bringing out and
developing--of all the faculties of his body, mind, and heart, till he
becomes at once a reverent yet a self-assured, a graceful and yet a
valiant, an able and yet an eloquent personage.

And if any should say to me--"But what has this to do with science?
Homer's Greeks knew no science;" I should rejoin--But they had,