the future will be chiefly scientific in its character, is a prediction which the present aspect of educational matters fully warrants me in stating. If we think of the rapid and astonishing extension of scientific tastes, knowledge, and appliances, which has taken place within even the past few years, it will readily be owned that the demands of modern culture will insist on the distinct incorporation of the scientific element into the body educational. That the boy or girl should leave school ignorant of the grand facts of biology; unable to give any intelligent account of the constitution of the world in which he or she lives; unlearned in the phenomena of his or her own existence, is a fact in the present history of education for which the future will have good cause to blush. The ordinary modern school-boy or school-girl, I make bold to say, leaves school, in the majority of cases, as liable to drift into errors, moral and physiological, as did his or her predecessor of fifty years ago. And hence the growth to manhood or womanhood proceeds, without adding to the knowledge of school-days any other than may be purchased in the battle of life, sometimes at the highest and dearest price which experience can pay. The errors of life and thought; the abuse of foods and drinks; much of the vice and immorality of modern times, represent, I think, in greater part so many consequences of the deficient training of the school. Asprofessedly giving to the child what will stand it in best stead on its entry into the world at large, educationists, I think, are bound to regulate their work and labour in sympathy with its future life and interests. It is exactly this want of connecting sympathy in modern education, this break of continuity between the education of the school and that of the world, that, in my opinion, most clearly shows our need of biological training. I look in vain in the list of ordinary school-studies; I seek vainly to recall in my own school history any study, save perhaps that of English literature, which can carry the pupil in healthy sympathy from his school directly into the area of active life. The study of the lives and works of great writers undoubtedly connect the young with the history and doings of their own and of other days, but in an indirect and ab stract manner only. Our ordinary modern list of school studies is thus almost as deficient in truly humanising resources as was the edu cational répertoire of the ancient Greek. The education of Alcibiades, as described by Socrates, consisted of letters-reading_and writing-wrestling and music. I can discern in the modern category of ordinary school resources but little, if any, advance on the philological, caligraphic, gymnastic, and musical pursuits of the ancient Greek. The wisdom of the ancient educator consisted in the endeavour to make his pupils really learn the few subjects he possessed. From the multiplicity of our modern subjects, we can only make an attempt to master them. And it is to be noted that amongst all this multiplicity, entailing a too powerful strain upon the intellect of the average pupil, we have not one study which has any power or charm to weld together the school with the world-to bridge over the gulf which, strangely enough, should be regarded as existing between the battle-field of life and the armoury, in which the weapons we therein use are forged. If, however, the study of lifescience has one prominent advantage over all other studies, it is that in its nature it acts most powerfully in bringing the present world and its constitution plainly and vividly before the eyes of boys and girls. It excites their interest in life and living things; it suggests trains of thought which ex tend almost into every department of knowledge which has a claim on human sympathy and regard. And it may provide the young with that knowledge of themselves which is the surest safeguard against the numerous pitfalls that in this exhausting age threaten the physical and mental health at every epoch of life. Thus, if the knowledge and observation of how the everyday and widespread life of the world pursues its course, and that of how life is affected by its environments, cannot bring the young into sympathy with that outer world into which they must sooner or later enter, every other branch of knowledge must assuredly fail in attempt ing to fill what admittedly is the great blank in our educational mode. Dr. Youmans has well pointed out that, as remarked by Mr. Wyse, empiricism reigns very widely throughout the educationist's domain. The capabilities of the child, he complains, are not duly noted and registered so as to afford a basis for the proper direction of educative efforts. And Dr. Youmans maintains that the art of observation, which is the beginning of all true science,' and 'the basis of all intellectual discrimination,' is universally neglected.' The teacher's preparation, he says, is chiefly literary; if they obtain a little scientific knowledge, it is for the purpose of communicating it, and not as a means of tutorial guidance. Their art is a mechanical routine, and hence, very naturally, while admitting the importance of advancing views, they really cannot see what is to be done about it. When we say that education is an affair of the laws of our being involving a wide range of considerations. that complete acquaintance with corporeal conditions which science alone can give . . . we seem to be talking in an unknown tongue, or, if intelligible, then very irrelevant and unpractical.' Then also I need hardly point out that the mind-training which the study and observation of biological phenomena involve, forms another powerful aid in lifting the pupil out of the dull mechanical routine of abstract studies, to an intelligent appreciation of his work and place in the world. The effort to train pupils to think for themselves, is confessedly the hardest task of the intelligent teacher; and I have said enough of the method of biological study, I imagine, to show how the science, founded on observation, must induce habits of thought, which should affect the whole educational life of the pupil. I might also point out how, especially in the case of girls, the study of biology, in its effect of interesting them in the world around, should act as an important means of furthering the aftereducation of their lives. The boy, with his future destiny as a tradesman or professional man, has less need than the girl of some solid study whereon the mind may rest, and to which it may fly for the intellectual occupation that it must inevitably feel the need of some time or other. As has well been said, To have one favourite study, and live in it with happy familiarity, and cultivate every portion of it diligently and lovingly, as small yeoman proprietor cultivates his own land, this, as to study at least, is the most enviable intellectual life.' And if a study should be sought for which shall most pleasantly aid in the cultivation of the inner life just described, it will assuredly be found more readily within the domain of biology than in any other department of human knowledge. To act as such a mental stimulant; to effectually prevent the occurrence of that miserable disease of female mental existence-ennui; to give the mind breadth and tone from the beginning of its cultivation-such are the benefits I claim for the school study of biology, carried in its natural development into the after-life of the pupil of either sex. That we need biological teaching, therefore, in our schools I think I may fairly maintain; and that this need should assert itself by demanding the necessary supply, I must also boldly submit. It is for prac tical educationists-for those engaged in the daily labour of teaching, and of observing what are the necessities of modern culture in its effects upon the future life of the pupils, to create this demand; to set forth the honest claims of biology to the world at large; and to act as the accredited pioneers of an advance in education which, in the world's school at large, and amongst thinking men and women, has al ready sown intellectual wealth and freedom broadcast, and with an unsparing hand. My plea is that this advance merely represents the call of the age for school-training in things biological; and that the exigencies of modern life demand the enrolment of the science amongst the means whereby the true end of educative effort may be fulfilled. To thus encourage and foster the demand for this training, should constitute no unimportant duty of the earnest reformer in educational matters. His labour in this respect will assuredly earn the gratitude of future years; for the effects of the teacher's work tend to perfect the most noble part of man's nature-that 'mental light,' which ... is heavenly borne and cannot die, Being a parcell of the purest skie! IN (AN UNSCIENTIFIC ACCOUNT.) N the spring of last year, a few weeks before the Arctic Expedition was to leave England, some old shipmates from the Naval College at Greenwich were dining with me, and told me that a question would be asked in the House that evening relative to the appointment of chaplains for the ships. My friend advised me to make application to the Admiralty to go in that capacity, if there appeared to be any chance of success; and I at once resolved to do so, for I had been rusting on half-pay for nearly a year and a half, and despaired of ever getting work again. On consulting the paper next day, I saw a report of a discussion in the House, from which it appeared that want of space was the only hindrance to the appointment of chaplains. So I at once wrote off to say that if they would only allow me to go I should be contented with a sea-chest and a hammock, as room was of so much importance. In a few days I was summoned to the Admiralty, where the First Lord most kindly promised to nominate me to the Discovery, provided I could satisfy the doctors. I accordingly went to Spring Gardens, and reminded the DirectorGeneral that when invalided from the East, a few months before, he had jokingly told me that as I could not stand the tropics, the North Pole was evidently the place for me to visit next, and I begged him to allow me to act on his advice. I was pronounced to have just the constitution for the Arctic regions, and was dismissed with kind wishes and congratulations. At the Admiralty I was told that my ap pointment would be sent to me that evening, and that I should at once proceed to Portsmouth to join my ship. So the next morning saw me rapidly whirling past the sunny hills of Surrey on my way to the great naval port. Strolling from the station towards the Dockyard, I saw alongside the jetty a little ship, with a band of green paint running round her hull, and the word Discovery inscribed in letters of gold on her stern. I stepped on board, but was at once ordered out of the ship by a young officer on deck, who doubtless took me for a British tourist. But I found the captain, and delivered to him my commission; and, kindly welcoming me, he introduced me to such of my future messmates as were present, and showed me the ship and my own cabin (for the hammock and sea-chest arrangement was unnecessary), introducing me to the foreman of the joiners, and giving him instructions to fit it up according to my directions. My new comrades advised me to get my outfit from Mr. Lack, of the Strand, as everyone was employing him, and I should see by his books what others had ordered. So on my return to town to Mr. Lack's I repaired, and ordered an extensive stock of flannel, chamoisleather, and lambswool clothing, which served me well in the cold Arctic winter. Preparations on board the ships, though energetically pushed on, were not completed till within a day or two of the Expedition's departure. But for weeks before that time numbers of visitors daily presented themselves at the dockyard, anxious to see the ships. The good people crowded the two vessels in the dinner-hour and at other vacant times, regardless of paint, coal-dust, crushed hats, and other inevitable drawbacks, which they always submitted to with cheerfulness and even amusement. One day a special train ran from Victoria Station to Portsmouth for the convenience of London sightseers. The naval cadets from the Britannia training-ship were brought to Portsmouth to see the Arctic ships, and so were the boys from the Naval School at Greenwich. Among the visitors were the Prince of Wales and Duke of Edinburgh, who paid us a visit about a week before our departure, and brought us valuable presents of books. The ex-Empress of the French also visited the ships, and her thoughtful kindness in supplying us with comfortable woollen head-dresses, or Welsh wigs, for the cold weather, was much appreciated. In fact, we received quite a number of presents-piano, billiard-table, books, Christmas gifts, eatables, and articles of clothing. Nothing could exceed the kindness shown us on all hands, by strangers and friends alike. Dinners were given us by all sorts of societies, naval and military, scientific and civic, and many invitations we were compelled to decline, not having sufficient time at our disposal to enable us to accept them. Amongst others, one may mention a dinner given at the Admiralty by the First Lord, at which were present, in addition to the officers of the Expedition, several Arctic heroes, such as Admirals Back, McClintock, and Richards, and other distinguished persons. Also a splendid banquet given by the Mayor of Portsmouth to the officers of the Expedition ought not to be forgotten. A day or two after this the Mayor gave a dinner in the same hall to the crews of the Arctic ships. After the dinner the men were joined at the tables by their wives, toasts were proposed and speeches made, and some of the men sang songs. All seemed thoroughly to enjoy themselves, and to appreciate the Mayor's kindness and hospitality; and the entertainment was remembered and talked of long after, when living on pemmican in the frozen North. But May 29, the day fixed for our departure, at length arrived, and all was ready for sea. It was a magnificent day, and the country looked lovely, causing a half-regret at having to leave it, perhaps for years. Of course, as the Queen's Birthday, this is a general holiday at Portsmouth, and the dockyard was closed to everyone, except those belonging to the Arctic ships and their friends. In the forenoon the Lords of the Admiralty Admiralty came down from town, and inspected the ships and their companies, examining everything and shaking hands with the officers on parting with kindly good wishes and hopes of a successful cruise. After this two photographs were taken on the upper deck—one of the officers, the other of the men. We then bid farewell to our friends, many of whom had formed a colony at Southsea for the last week or two. But some of them insisted on accompanying us to the Dockyard, and once more going on board, so that we were pleasantly employed till the last. The indefatigable carpenter, who had superintended the fitting of our cabins, was still with us, not a little proud of the cheerful appearance that his paint and gilt work had given them, and ready as ever to drive in a nail or re-hang a picture. At the last a telegram arrived from the Queen addressed to the |