relations to one another for their value. Taken alone, they are
ineffective fragments of knowledge, just as a common soldier or an
officer in an army is ineffective in battle without definite relations
to a multitude of other men.

If the first sentences on twenty successive pages in a book were
brought together, they would tell no story. They would be mere
scattered fractions of thoughts, lacking that relation to one another
that would give them significance and make them a unit. Twenty closely
related sentences might, however, express a very valuable thought.

James Anthony Froude, impressed with this truth and at the same time
recalling the prevalent tendency to ignore it, declares: "Detached
facts on miscellaneous subjects, as they are taught at a modern
school, are like separate letters of endless alphabets. You may load
the mechanical memory with them, till it becomes a marvel of
retentiveness. Your young prodigy may amaze examiners and delight
inspectors. His achievements may be emblazoned in blue books, and
furnish matter for flattering reports on the excellence of our
educational system. And all this while you have been feeding him with
chips of granite. But arrange your letters into words, and each word
becomes a thought, a symbol waking in the mind an image of a real
thing. Group your words into sentences, and thought is married to
thought, and the chips of granite become soft bread, wholesome,
nutritious, and invigorating." [Footnote: James Anthony Froude,
_Handwork before Headwork._]

A very simple illustration is found in the study of the dates for the
entrance of our states into the Union. Taken one at a time, the list
is dead. But interest is awakened the moment one discovers that for a