The popular idea of the common school is not this. It is based on a proposition that the masses can be educated; that is, taught to think. This conclusion is got at through a most ludicrous process. The mind is reduced to a memory. Facts are crowded into the pupil, and as the facts accumulate the education is supposed to proceed, and in possession of these facts the graduate comes forth the superior of Plato, Bacon, or Herbert Spencer.

This is simply an idiotic exercise of the memory, and as the memory grows perfect the intellectual faculties weaken and disappear. It is now recognized by the more thoughtful that an abnormal memory is evidence of idiocy. The net result, then, of all the labor is to graduate a learned ass.

The proof of what we assert is found in the result after the pedagogues have completed their work. The millions are considered taught; the masses take the level of unthinking multitudes, and look about among themselves for their teachers and leaders. The schoolmasters have held all to a dead level; but once out in the world, and nature asserts her rights, and the truly educated, the strong minds that have taught themselves to think, move to the front and take command.

If this thing were harmless, we could be content to let the popular craze wear itself out. But it is not harmless. In our insane desire to have this monstrous system prevail, let the cost be what it may, we lose sight of the grave fact that, while we cannot educate the people, we can train the people up to that moral condition so necessary to a safe and healthy condition of a Christian community.

In our idiotic belief that in a cultivation of the memory we are elevating and purifying the mind, we make our schools not only godless but positively immoral, for the untrained mind is trained in iniquity. And this pernicious result is strengthened by another crotchet of the popular mind—the habit we have fallen into of regarding the human race as a continuous whole instead of being the individual. We fail to realize that when one is born the world begins, and when one dies the world ends. We are like the notes of the piano: each key has its own separate and distinct sound, and while they may be made to harmonize with each other, the melody that melts through a flute or flows in endless eddies from a violin can never be reached. That government approaches human perfection which cares for the citizen and not the majority; and that moral religious training given us by our Saviour is the watchful care of the one soul. To this end the Church was organized: to this end was marriage instituted and made sacred. This means the home—the only school, public or private, that has an unalloyed good in its composition.

The wrong being done our people cannot be overestimated. The child in being put to school has been expelled from home. The parent is taught that the State has intervened and relieved God's responsible agent of all responsibility. This strikes a death-blow at the agency for good found in the parent. We all recognize the fact that from the home comes all that is sound in the State. By the hearth-stone grow, not only moral impulse, but true religion and all the patriotism that gives a love of country, and stability and power to the State. Anything, then, that saps the foundations of the household takes from under us the solid earth. This, we maintain, is what our common-school system as now organized and controlled is doing.

We trust our readers will be patient with us. We know that we are touching on a tender subject. There is a religious feeling injected into the craze that makes many men wild and unreasonable the moment the system is criticised. We appreciate and partake of the sentiment born in us through many generations of a struggle against the tyranny ever found in a union of Church and State. Our blessed Saviour saw this when He laid down that line of demarcation between the two when he said: "Render to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's; and to God the things that are God's." We not only say that we are opposed to governmental interference with religion, but we go a step farther, and, to make the line between Church and State yet more distinct, we assert that government has nothing to do with the morals of its people. Government is an expression of justice, as seen and felt in restraining through punishment the overt act of injustice. Morality and religion are so interwoven that they cannot well be separated, and the man who claims the political machine to be a great moral engine gives away all that our Christ commanded and our patriotic fathers sought to establish in framing our Constitution.

We hold that the morality of a people, like their religion, may be safely left to the Church and the home. When, therefore, the socialistic belief that the child belongs to the State and not to the parent prevails, not only the barriers but the very foundations of our social and political existence are broken down and in a fair way to be destroyed.

When we assert that the State rests upon the home, we say that which all men save communists heartily indorse. Now, the home is founded mainly on the mother's love. It is the strongest feeling given to animated life. We share it with the brute. It is the law of our being, and the source of all that is good. From the mother's care and training come our physical and moral health. This is not sentiment, it is solid fact. It is not that poets have sung and sages taught this great truth, but there is not a reader of this who cannot trace back to his early home and his mother's love not only all that has held him or her to moral conduct, but much that makes life worth living. This, that makes home what it is or should be, cannot be replaced by the State. The great infidel Robert Ingersoll retains his hold on certain thoughtless classes, not by his wit, which is keen, nor his eloquence, which is unquestioned, but because he preaches a sort of religion of home, and claims to be the only man, par excellence, who loves his wife and children.

The writer of this, when a judge, was remonstrated with for giving a child to a mother whom he had divorced from her husband on the ground of her infidelity. He made reply that the wife might be a bad woman and yet a good mother. Certainly there was no one to take her place. The court could not give the custody of the child to a man who thought so little of its welfare as to come into court and ask for a decree of divorce. The law had to be obeyed, and the divorce granted; but the custody of the child was left to the discretion of the court, and the court considered it merciful to leave the child with the mother rather than give it to a father who, in asking for a divorce, served notice that he would marry again and give this unfortunate to the care of a stepmother, to torture it with the taint of its origin, and a conflict with the natural affection for the newly found household and offspring.