450 GUSTAV SPILLER: strenuous, or too strenuous, advance in ability is practically out of the question. Nor is constant progress, speaking generally, possible. A river incessantly wears away its banks, and wind and rain never leave off denuding a mountain. Not so with organic reaction. Exercise is not incessantly producing changes in direct proportion to effort expended. 11. The Place of Judgment. We described the evolution of a routine process. We sketched the causes of that evolution ; but we have not, we hope, suggested that the method is such that all men end in writing alike. The hands of a watch report progress automatically. The evolution of an organic trend is not of such a nature. The use of judgment, of which we will now speak, is a factor which cannot be too highly appreciated. Suppose a man learns to write without a teacher, and under compulsion. He will surely make numerous blunders, while the mode of learning will be most difficult and prolonged. When the routine stage has at last been reached he will find that in comparison to those well-taught, he writes badly, makes many serious errors, and spends more energy on the writing than is necessary. He will also discover that a variety of problems are met by him unintelligently, and that many movements are not so simple as they might be. Organic reaction as such in no wise implies perfection. While one is a splendid writer, another may be a wretched scrawler. Prom the point of view of perfection it would be suicidal t consider time, exercise, and effort, as the only essentials i intelligent development. There are hosts of aged workers who are stupid, clumsy, slow, in spite of a life spent in a special class of work, while there are others more favourably situated, who do the same work better and with greater speed, although they have had but a year or two of practice. Efficiency would be almost universally absent if we acted upon the belief that with the lapse of time bad workmanship disappears or good workmanship evolves. Let us assume that a young man is anxious to write well. He procures a well-tried teacher. Of beginners' blunders many are common, and others are infrequent. His teacher, through foreknowledge, prevents the majority of them from occurring, and speedily reforms the others. Few mistakes are permitted, and none are allowed to sink so deep that they are difficult to uproot. The pupil stands no risk of injuring spine, lungs, or eyes. He has not repeatedly to discover that he is on a squirrel track. Thus far the teacher's help is negative. On the positive
