force in the world, the lever of demagogues who preach social anarchy and
misname it progress. There is no culture so high, no taste so fastidious,
no grace of learning so delicate, no refinement of art so exquisite, that
it cannot at this hour find full play for itself in the broadest fields
of humanity; since it is all needed to soften the attritions of common
life, and guide to nobler aspirations the strong materialistic influences
of our restless society.

One reason, as I said, for the gulf between the majority and the select
few to be educated is, that the college does not seldom disappoint the
reasonable expectation concerning it. The graduate of the carpenter's
shop knows how to use his tools--or used to in days before superficial
training in trades became the rule. Does the college graduate know how to
use his tools? Or has he to set about fitting himself for some
employment, and gaining that culture, that training of himself, that
utilization of his information which will make him necessary in the
world? There has been a great deal of discussion whether a boy should be
trained in the classics or mathematics or sciences or modern languages. I
feel like saying "yes" to all the various propositions. For Heaven's sake
train him in something, so that he can handle himself, and have free and
confident use of his powers. There isn't a more helpless creature in the
universe than a scholar with a vast amount of information over which he
has no control. He is like a man with a load of hay so badly put upon his
cart that it all slides off before he can get to market. The influence of
a man on the world is generally proportioned to his ability to do
something. When Abraham Lincoln was running for the Legislature the first
time, on the platform of the improvement of the navigation of the
Sangamon River, he went to secure the votes of thirty men who were
cradling a wheat field. They asked no questions about internal
improvements, but only seemed curious whether Abraham had muscle enough