certain few but precious elements in the greater synthesis that
impends. Indian industries, basketry, pottery, bead, leather, bows and
arrows, bark, etc., which our civilization is making lost arts by
forcing the white man's industries upon red men at reservation schools
and elsewhere, need only a small part of the systemization that
Swedish peasant work has received to develop even greater educational
values; and the same is true of the indigenous household work of the
old New England farm, the real worth and possibilities of which are
only now, and perhaps too late, beginning to be seen by a few
educators.

This brings us to the arts and crafts movement, originating with
Carlyle's gospel of work and Ruskin's medievalism, developed by
William Morris and his disciples at the Red House, checked awhile by
the ridicule of the comic opera "Patience," and lately revived in some
of its features by Cobden-Sanderson, and of late to some extent in
various centers in this country. Its ideal was to restore the day of
the seven ancient guilds and of Hans Sachs, the poet cobbler, when
conscience and beauty inspired work, and the hand did what machines
only imitate and vulgarize. In the past, which this school of motor
culture harks back to, work, for which our degenerate age lacks even
respect, was indeed praise. Refined men and women have remembered
these early days, when their race was in its prime, as a lost paradise
which they would regain by designing and even weaving tapestries and
muslins; experimenting in vats with dyes to rival Tyrian purple;
printing and binding by hand books that surpass the best of the
Aldine, and Elzevirs; carving in old oak; hammering brass; forging
locks, irons, and candlesticks; becoming artists in burned wood and
leather; seeking old effects of simplicity and solidity in furniture
and decoration, as well as architecture, stained glass, and to some