of Science in general, are of intrinsic value:  they will bear on human conduct ten thousand years hence as they do now.  The extra knowledge of our own language, which is given by an acquaintance with Latin and Greek, may be considered to have a value that is quasi-intrinsic:  it must exist for us and for other races whose languages owe much to these sources; but will last only as long as our languages last.  While that kind of information which, in our schools, usurps the name History—­the mere tissue of names and dates and dead unmeaning events—­has a conventional value only:  it has not the remotest bearing on any of our actions; and is of use only for the avoidance of those unpleasant criticisms which current opinion passes upon its absence.  Of course, as those facts which concern all mankind throughout all time must be held of greater moment than those which concern only a portion of them during a limited era, and of far greater moment than those which concern only a portion of them during the continuance of a fashion; it follows that in a rational estimate, knowledge of intrinsic worth must, other things equal, take precedence of knowledge that is of quasi-intrinsic or conventional worth.

One further preliminary.  Acquirement of every kind has two values—­value as knowledge and value as discipline.  Besides its use for guiding conduct, the acquisition of each order of facts has also its use as mental exercise; and its effects as a preparative for complete living have to be considered under both these heads.

These, then, are the general ideas with which we must set out in discussing a curriculum:—­Life as divided into several kinds of activity of successively decreasing importance; the worth of each order of facts as regulating these several kinds of activity, intrinsically, quasi-intrinsically, and conventionally; and their regulative influences estimated both as knowledge and discipline.

* * * * *

Happily, that all-important part of education which goes to secure direct self-preservation, is in great part already provided for.  Too momentous to be left to our blundering, Nature takes it into her own hands.  While yet in its nurse’s arms, the infant, by hiding its face and crying at the sight of a stranger, shows the dawning instinct to attain safety by flying from that which is unknown and may be dangerous; and when it can walk, the terror it manifests if an unfamiliar dog comes near, or the screams with which it runs to its mother after any startling sight or sound, shows this instinct further developed.  Moreover, knowledge subserving direct self-preservation is that which it is chiefly busied in acquiring from hour to hour.  How to balance its body; how to control its movements so as to avoid collisions; what objects are hard, and will hurt if struck; what objects are heavy, and injure if they fall on the limbs; which things will bear the weight