scarcely an exaggeration. There are unmistakable symptoms that in almost every part of that vast and illiterate region the notion is taking strong hold of all classes that there is no ground for hoping for any true prosperity except in the renovating and elevating influence of better education.

The most impressive evidence of this changed and improved spirit is found in the general establishment in the several Southern States of systems of common schools. Notwithstanding that prevailing poverty of which I have spoken, the people of the South are now taxing themselves to the amount of about fifteen millions of dollars a year for elementary education. Of this amount about five millions are for the education of the negroes. These figures in themselves are enough to indicate that the people are thoroughly alive to the importance of the subject. But specific instances still more significant might be given. The school-tax of Charleston, for example, is a mill on a dollar more than that of Boston. In the opinion of those best acquainted with the condition of the people in the South, as well as with their educational needs, nothing more can reasonably be expected than what is now doing. This at least is the opinion of Dr. Mayo, whom I have already quoted, and whose intelligent interest in education in the South entitles his judgment to the highest respect. He uses these carefully guarded words: "We may say, ideally and abstractly, that the Southern people can give more than they do for education; but practically, looking at them as we look at every people in the world, I believe the limit is reached." And testimony of this kind comes to us from every quarter. In a word, we are forced to believe, not only that remarkable progress has been made in the last few years, but also that the common school is fast becoming as dear to the people of the South as to the people of other parts of the country.

But efforts for the improving of the schools of the South have by no means been limited to the Southern people themselves. Not only have numerous associations in the North been formed for assisting in this laudable purpose, but several special funds have been created by private benevolence with a view to the same end. In this way colleges and training schools in considerable number have been established, more especially for the education of teachers, and for giving to the negroes educational privileges from which they have heretofore been excluded. But all of these efforts combined, worthy and important as they are, seem a mere pittance when compared with the magnitude of the work to be performed.

That the nation at large appreciates the gravity of the situation is shown by what is known as the "Blair Bill," now awaiting the action of the House of Representatives. The Senate, after a long debate, passed a measure which proposes to expend for popular education in the next five years no less than seventy-seven millions of dollars; and although no allusion to the South is directly made in the Bill, yet, as the distribution is to be made on the basis of present illiteracy, it is obvious that nearly the whole of the amount, if the Bill becomes a law, will be expended in the Southern States. Even the nature of the opposition to the Bill reveals the strength of popular conviction. There are grave reasons for doubting the constitutionality of the measure. As one looks over the debates in the Senate on this question, one looks in vain for anything that may be called conclusive

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justification. One phase of the subject was indeed very ably discussed by Senator Garland, now Attorney-General under President Cleveland. But his argument was directed simply to justifying the oft-exercised right to appropriate public lands for educational purposes. In 1862 an enormous amount of the public domain was given to the several States for this purpose. The amount so appropriated in the aggregate is no less than 150,000,000 acres. And the question is asked: Why may not the country give money if it may give lands? The answer is, that the Constitution expressly confers the right in one case while it does not confer it in the other. Among the enumerated powers of Congress we find: "Congress shall have the power to dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations respecting the territory or other property belonging to the United States." Here is a plain grant of power to use the public lands for purposes of education; and all the authorities cited by Senator Garland are simply decisions as to the privileges of Congress under this Clause. But there is an unquestionable difference between the appropriation of money in the Treasury, the proceeds of taxation, and the appropriation of "public lands and other property." One is obliged, therefore, to look elsewhere for constitutional authority, but one looks in vain, except, possibly, in what was neatly called by Senator Vest the "blanket clause," as though it were intended, like a "blanket mortgage," to cover everything. One of the sections of the Constitution declares that "Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts, and excises, to pay the debts and provide for the common defence and general welfare of the United States." This "general welfare" clause at first sight would seem to afford due authorization; but the ablest writers on the Constitution, such as Hamilton, Madison, Kent, Story, Coaley, and Wharton, have uniformly held that this clause should be limited in its operations to those objects that are expressly or impliedly included in the Constitution itself. The meaning, under this interpretation, is that if the Constitution gave power to Congress to provide for the education of the people of the States, it would also, under this clause, give power to raise and expend money for that purpose. But no such authorization is to be found. Should the Bill, or another of similar import, become a law, it is quite within the range of possibility that its constitutionality will be brought to a test before the Supreme Court. There is therefore a chance at least that through an adverse decision of the Court the whole subject will fall to the ground, even if the action of Congress should be favourable.

But an objection to the Bill that has even more popular force is that of expediency. The belief has uniformly been held that public education depends for its efficiency on the action and interest of the communities in which the educational efforts are exerted. It is the essential doctrine of self-government that educational methods, and indeed educational means, are best provided for by the people most affected by them. It is the traditional doctrine of the country that the local community provides and pays for the common schools. This may seem to be a contradiction of what has been said above, but a single example will show how it is not. The general law of Massachusetts in 1642 required that the towns should tax themselves for the education of their children. The custom established by this precedent is still universally maintained. It is true that this provision has been supple

mented by land grants from Congress and by a tax levied by the State. But this supplemental assistance is not of a nature to weaken the sense of local responsibility. The land in all cases has been granted to the States in trust for educational purposes, and the resulting fund has been large or small according as the trust has been wisely or unwisely administered. The tax levied by the State for purposes of education is levied as a school-tax, and is not separated in popular imagination from the local tax for the same purpose. Moreover, the State tax is never paid over to the local authorities until a local tax, perhaps three or four times greater, has been raised and expended. The consequence is, that the taxpayer is constantly made aware of the burden resting upon him for educational purposes. The value of things in popular estimation is largely determined by their cost. What we desire and pay for we do not very readily submit to see wasted or squandered. Self-government to an American means self-help, and its maxims are, hands off, fair-play, and an open field. It must be confessed that to these maxims the Blair Bill gives a very considerable shock. In just so far as it will serve to supersede local effort it will strike the most damaging blow possible to education wherever its influence is felt. It therefore is a question of serious moment whether, in case of its passage, its effect, notwithstanding all the guards that may be thrown around it, may not in some considerable measure paralyze that spirit of self-reliance that, in America at least, is deemed essential to the highest educational success. The people are more than willing that the money should be devoted to the purpose designed, if they can be convinced that it will prove a benefit instead of an injury. If the measure fails to become a law, it will be from no unwillingness to grant the money, but from a belief that the influence of such assistance would be harmful rather than helpful.

But whatever the fortune of the project for national aid, it is as certain as the shining of the sun and the blowing of soft breezes in that fair land that the future of the South depends upon what is done in behalf of education. The question is as momentous as it was in Germany after the days of Jena and Tilsit. As Fichte in the Reden an die deutschen Nation, with an eloquence that aroused and thrilled all thinking Germans, declared that there was no saving of Germany except in a remodelled and thorough-going system of education, so a similar doctrine ought to be preached on every rostrum, and in every newspaper, and in every college, and even in every pulpit of the South. It is plain that whatever else is done, the happy end of present troubles will not be reached till after the schoolhouse door is thrown open to every child, and, to use Mr. Huxley's phrase, the ladder is made continuous from the common school to the university. Every thoughtful observer has occasion to repeat the saying of Bagehot in 1872: "I am exceedingly afraid of the ignorant multitude of the new constituencies."

The remark of Mr. Herbert Spencer that attracted most attention when he was in America was that which related to the indisposition of Americans to complain of petty grievances. It seemed to be his opinion that Americans do not grumble enough. Of a kindred nature was the observation of Dr. Dale, who a year or two before was much impressed by what seemed the gentleness of Americans as compared with Britons. If these acute observers have really hit upon a

national characteristic of the Americans, they would seem to be entitled to the credit of having made a veritable discovery. And yet they are perhaps correct; certainly, if there is any person whom the typical American hates more cordially than any other, that person is the typical grumbler. And the reason is not very hard to find. People generally grumble only about those things which they cannot help. But the notion prevails very widely in America, that wherever there is an evil there is a legitimate and an effective remedy. If there is not a remedy, there is no advantage in making anybody uncomfortable about it; if there is a remedy, it is in the hands of the people, and the people have only to be convinced that the evil exists in order to do their best to remove it. Popular opinion therefore demands of every man with a grievance that he shall either cease to complain, or that he shall proceed in a rational manner to point out the grounds of his grievance. It says, "If you succeed in justifying your complaint, we will remove the evil; if you do not so succeed, then let us have peace." The consequence of this somewhat philosophical method of reasoning is doubtless in some respects a deplorable one. It tends to an enormous superfluity of legislation. Every man with a pet grievance seems to think that if he can get a Bill passed against it, that will be the end of it. The country member, on coming to the Legislature, therefore has his pockets stuffed with new measures by means of which he intends to reform the world. These are brought before the honourable legislative body, are sifted, are scrutinized, and in due time at least nine-tenths of them are condemned to the sleep of death. But it is worthy of note that this is one of the ways public opinion is made. The Congress, which to the satisfaction of so many expired on the 4th of March, had before it in the course of two years more than eight thousand Bills. Of these much less than one thousand ever received any serious consideration or even attention; but each of the seven thousand that were smothered in the committee-rooms represented a grievance that under another form of government would end simply in a few private scolds, and perhaps a letter to the Times.

But if any particular interest is one of importance, it does not end with the defeat of a legislative measure. Whatever the disadvantages of this method, it is certainly effective in bringing about legislation as soon as the public is convinced. The truth of this assertion finds good illustration in the progress of civil service reform. The "spoils system," planted by Aaron Burr and watered by politicians of the Jackson type, had thrust its roots into every corner of our political life. Even this sweeping statement does not include the whole of the evil, nor a very large part of it. It went beyond what may fairly be called the political offices, and in some of the States swept into its corrupting influence all the positions filled either by election or appointment. In some of the States it even included those in charge of scientific surveys, as well as superintendents of hospitals and asylums, professors in universities, and even librarians of public libraries. An instance of this kind is related. In one of the large cities of the interior an efficient librarian of the State library was removed for political reasons. The qualifications of the successor were simply the fact that he had been a successful "worker" and was urged by a knot of friends whom the party newly coming into power did not desire to disoblige. The result of the new appointment was

a little more revolutionary than had been anticipated. The discovery was made by the new librarian that a number of changes were needed. One of the most striking was in the catalogue of the library. The new incumbent found that his predecessor had committed the error of cataloguing the works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart., under the S's instead of under the B's. Of course the name had to be changed to the proper place, and catalogued in alphabetical order as "Bart., Sir Walter Scott, The Works of."

Similar results of change manifested themselves elsewhere. Within a few days after President Jackson's inauguration more than a thousand removals took place, for purely political reasons. The effect of this policy is indicated by a single fact. During the administration of his predecessor the cost of collecting the revenue at the New York Customhouse had been 1 per cent. of the receipts; after the new appointments were made the cost was 5 per cent. But the evil went on unchecked. Take as a further illustration the management of the New York Custom-house through a succession of years. Mr. Schell, appointed collector in 1858, removed 389 out of 690 persons employed. Mr. Barney, his successor, removed 525 out of 702; Mr. Draper, 830 out of 903; and Mr. Grinnell, 510 out of 892. Another example is afforded by the New York Post-office. Before Mr. James entered upon his work of renovation in 1873, the administration of that office was perhaps the best illustration that could be found of the deplorable effects of the system then in vogue. A Committee of Investigation afterwards reported that officers were still in service there who had seen half the sorters at a large table too drunk to discharge their duties. They remembered a carrier who, under the influence of drink, wandered miles out of his way and lost his mail, which only reached New York again after it had gone to the General Office in Washington. Yet this drunken carrier, because he was an efficient local worker, was not dismissed. The report referred to declared that when Mr. James assumed the office in 1873, "hundreds of long-neglected bags of mails were found scattered or piled in various parts of the post-office." The work of removing inefficient clerks was at once begun by Mr. James, and a competitive examination was substituted for the old methods of appointment. The result was, that in five years the force in the office was reduced by one-third, the people in the city were given seven daily deliveries instead of five, and nineteen daily collections were made instead of ten. While the efficiency of the office was thus improved, the expense of administering it was reduced by about $20,000 a year. These details are enough, perhaps, to show the magnitude and the importance of the subject in American political life.

As the real state of the service came to be known, the necessity of reform became apparent to all those who, as Mr. Arnold would say, "see clear and think straight." The Pendleton Bill was the first fruit of the agitation that ensued. This measure, which may be roughly described as providing for a competitive examination for all the subordinate appointments in offices employing more than fifty persons, became law on the 16th of January, 1883, and consequently has been a little more than two years in operation. The second Annual Report of the Commission has recently appeared, and has made it obvious that the workings of the law are everywhere meeting the most sanguine expectations of its friends. Not only is the service greatly improved,