and remit him to his ancient condition—­tied for life to a bit of ground, which should supply all his simple wants; his wife should weave the clothes for the family; his children should learn nothing but the catechism and to speak the truth; he should take his religion without question from the hearty, fox-hunting parson, and live and die undisturbed by ideas.  Now, it seems to me that if Mr. Ruskin could realize in some isolated nation this idea of a pastoral, simple existence, under a paternal government, he would have in time an ignorant, stupid, brutal community in a great deal worse case than the agricultural laborers of England are at present.  Three-fourths of the crime in the kingdom of Bavaria is committed in the Ultramontane region of the Tyrol, where the conditions of popular education are about those that Mr. Ruskin seems to regret as swept away by the present movement in England—­a stagnant state of things, in which any wind of heaven would be a blessing, even if it were a tornado.  Education of the modern sort unsettles the peasant, renders him unfit for labor, and gives us a half-educated idler in place of a conscientious workman.  The disuse of the apprentice system is not made good by the present system of education, because no one learns a trade well, and the consequence is poor work, and a sham civilization generally.  There is some truth in these complaints.  But the way out is not backward, but forward.  The fault is not with education, though it may be with the kind of education.  The education must go forward; the man must not be half but wholly educated.  It is only half-knowledge like half-training in a trade that is dangerous.

But what I wish to say is, that notwithstanding certain unfavorable things in the condition of the English laborer and mechanic, his chance is better in the main than it was fifty years ago.  The world is a better world for him.  He has the opportunity to be more of a man.  His world is wider, and it is all open to him to go where he will.  Mr. Ruskin may not so easily find his ideal, contented peasant, but the man himself begins to apprehend that this is a world of ideas as well as of food and clothes, and I think, if he were consulted, he would have no desire to return to the condition of his ancestors.  In fact, the most hopeful symptom in the condition of the English peasant is his discontent.  For, as skepticism is in one sense the handmaid of truth, discontent is the mother of progress.  The man is comparatively of little use in the world who is contented.

There is another thought pertinent here.  It is this:  that no man, however humble, can live a full life if he lives to himself alone.  He is more of a man, he lives in a higher plane of thought and of enjoyment, the more his communications are extended with his fellows and the wider his sympathies are.  I count it a great thing for the English peasant, a solid addition to his life, that he is every day being put into more intimate relations with every other man on the globe.