If a quantity of goods be offered for sale in the market at such a price that only a portion of the community find them within their purchase-limit, a portion will as certainly refrain from the purchase as if their entire means were inadequate for the purpose; and, if a portion remain unsold, and the necessity for its sale exists, its price must fall until it comes within the purchase-limit of more persons, or until an increased quanity comes within the limit in the case of those who previously purchased. How much the price must fall to accomplish these results is an interesting inquiry on which, it is believed, our discussion of wants will throw light.

The

The amount of decline in price necessary to secure new customers depends on the nature of the want which the commodity in question satisfies. If it be a want low in the scale it will be general in the community, and a smaller fall will be necessary than if the want be higher in the scale and experienced only by persons of a certain grade of culture. amount of decline necessary to secure increased consumption by the same customers also depends on the nature of the want, but, here, the higher wants have the advantage. We have seen that they are more expansive and a small reduction in price may bring a much greater quantity within the purchaselimit. The increase in the quantity would have been desired from the first, but would have been kept above the limit by its price. The desire for wheat is not expansive; when a certain quantity is possessed no more is desired for consumption, and it must fall much in price before the same persons will purchase more of it. A small reduction in the price of a luxury may greatly increase its sale. The same causes which necessitate a large decline in price in case of an over-supply, secure a correspondingly large advance in case of an under-supply. A short crop of wheat advances so greatly in price as to be worth more, in the aggregate, than a large one. Intellectual wants are highly expansive, and, in their lower grades, are very general in a civilized community. Low prices of books of amusement, papers, concert and lecture tickets, &c., secure, within certain limits, a more than proportionally increased patronage.

The leading English writers on Political Economy have introduced a distinction between so-called "productive and unpro

ductive consumption," the former being the consumption of those things, the effect of which is to enable a man to labor, and the latter, the consumption of things which give simple gratification without imparting laboring capacity. This distinction is chiefly of interest from the high authority on which it rests, and from the important questions which it is sought to solve by its use. The economic effects of luxury and of frugality are the real questions at issue in the discussion of what is termed productive and unproductive consumption. Mr. Mill conveys the impression of taking peculiar pleasure in this distinction and of conceiving that light has been thrown on important questions by its use.

The employment of this distinction for the purpose indicated is unnecessary, and involves inaccuracy of thought. Profuse expenditure differs from frugal living, not in producing less wealth, but in destroying more. Consumption is never, in itself, productive, but is more or less destructive. Moreover, the distinction itself will hardly bear analysis, if the nature of man be taken into consideration. It would doubtless be conceded by those who make use of this distinction that it would be impossible to rigidly apply it in actual life. To draw, in practice, a line between that which, in consumption, gives capacity for productive effort, and that which does not, would be impracticable. Conforts, as well as necessities, may increase the ability to work, and necessities, as well as comforts, may give gratification. The food of nearly every man satisfies wants higher in the scale than that of simple nourishment; most articles of food impart a sensuous gratification which is distinct from their nutritive action. The clothing of any one above destitution satisfies higher wants than those of warmth and protection, those, namely, of personal adornment and social consideration. So with the dwelling and the entire surroundings. To consume only productively, one must eat the cheapest food that will adequately nourish, wear the simplest clothing that will completely protect, and live in the rudest dwelling that will satisfactorily shelter. All higher wants, in short, must remain unsatisfied, and the man must become a machine, content with the fuel that keeps him in motion. Such a result would demand an entire change in the nature of the being under consideration.

That such a result can never be realized in fact, is self-evident; that it should ever be conceived of in thought, is an evidence of how little trouble even great writers on Political Economy have given themselves concerning the real nature of the being with whose actions they deal. If the laborer is an engine, his motive power is fuel; but, if he is a man, his motive power is hope. It is psychological rather than physiological forces which keep him in motion. He is to be lured, not pushed, in the way of productive effort. Ambition may have feeble sway in individual cases, but, this side of the gate of Dante's Inferno, it is never entirely extinct.

We have seen what wants on the margin of actual possession are the active incentives to effort. Civilized man struggles no longer for existence, but for progressive comfort and enjoyment. It is progress that makes contentment possible, as distinguished from sullen submission to unavoidable hardship. Progress has limits, and many wants must remain forever unsatisfied, and, by a kindly provision, such wants are generally quiescent. Other wants near to the border line of actual possession must be active with a prospect of satisfaction by effort, if happiness is to be attained. It is the want of things which lie far above the line of necessities and the consumption of which would be classed as unproductive, which is the constant motive power in industrial progress. It is the so-called "unproductive consump tion" which is, if soul-forces be recognized, immediately productive of wealth.

Systems of Economy are colored by the sentiments of the land where they originate, and a system like the English could scarcely have originated elsewhere than in a country where the traditional practice, in dealing with the laboring class, is by the method of repression. Only, in such a country could the socalled "stationary state" be held up as an attractive picture of the laborer's future condition. In a country habituated to more of progress the necessity of progress would be more clearly recognized. Such theorising as that which we are criticising may apply to a class of laborers who have already passed the barrier where hope is left behind; it will hardly apply to the laboring class in a free and progressive country.

The ultimate foundations of Political Economy lie deeper than the strata on which existing systems have been reared. The point of divergence between the present science, and the true science lies farther back than ordinary inquiries extend. The Economist of the future must begin at the beginning of all knowledge and, with Socrates, pass through the portal from which diverge the various paths of scientific inquiry, and over which the master has written "Trei σɛavτóv." Self knowledge is the beginning of every science, but it is, likewise, the middle and the end of a science which treats of the activities of man, and of the social organism of which men are members.

ARTICLE VI.-WHAT CONSTITUTES SUCCESSFUL TEACHING IN COLLEGES ?

TO INSTRUCT under all conditions involves substantially the same imparting powers in the teacher and receptive capacities in the scholar. But the age and progress of young men at the period of their pupilage in the college separates them from the rigid discipline of the schoolmaster, and the entire freedom allowed in professional study. Moreover, students are at this time in their transition stage, and the education they receive, more than any other, shapes their destiny. For these reasons. the instruction and government suited to this period have a distinct individuality, which it is now proposed to consider.

Undoubtedly the most efficient method of influencing others is by enlisting their sympathy. So long as access to their real nature is denied, it is scarcely possible to direct them for good or evil; for there must be communication between man and man before they can unite in any common work. Unless this be effected, their energies will be directed to different ends, though they be compelled to act together. This is the case preeminently between teacher and pupil; since the idea of education is that one person shall be able to direct not merely the action, but the thoughts of another. It is plain that this cannot be done unless each comprehends the motives of the other, and there be that confidence in the superior wisdom of the instructor which will justify his acceptation as a safe guide. While the feeling of confidence should be mutual, the guiding mind exercises it consciously, and must put himself en rapport with the nature to be taught; but the latter unconsciously opens to receive the influence. No man is fit by nature to be a professor unless he loves young people, and takes pleasure in the constant display of that brightest flower the earth has ever seen, the bloom of youth. Hence he must never grow old in heart, or forget his own bright days when the sun shone gloriously upon the world, and made it seem full of beauty. And with this memory must be preserved the consciousness that he,