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•

THE

TEACHER'S TEXT BOOK.

8EV. AIEIANDEB FOERESTEB, D.D.

■ T«in "P . child i. fte w., he .konld go ; „d wkcn he b old, he will no,
depurt Itom il."-Paov«BB. nil. 6.

' " " II 111 II

'<^

SAItFAX, NOVA SCDTU:
^' & W. MACKINLAY.
1867,

THE HON. WILLIAM YOUNG,

«!)fef Justfcc of Note Scotfa.
SIR,—

I BEG LEAVE TO INSCRIBE TO YOU THE FOLLOWING PAGES ON THE

Subject of EnccATioN. I do so. not because of the fbiendship thai

HAS EXISTED BETWEEN US EVER SINCE I LANDED ON THESE SHORES, NOE
BECAUSE OF MY APPOINTMENT TO THE SITUATION OP SUPERINTENDENT OF

Education, and Principal of the Provincial Normal Institution, by
A Government of which you were Premier; but entirely because
op your early advocacy, and that of your lamented brother, op
the cause op Popular Education in this Country, and the zeal

which you I.AVE all ALONG MANIFESTED IN THE ENLIGHTENMENT AND

amelioration of xhb masses.

It is my earnest desire and prayer that tou may bb long spared
TO patronize and support all those schemes that have for their
object the embodiment op the principle "Prevention better than
Cure;" and. by the extent of your juridical lore, and the equity

AND soundness OF YOUR JUDGMENTS, TO ADORN THAT BENCH OVER WHICH
IT IS YOUR HONOUR TO PRESIDE.

I AM,

Faithfully Yours,

ALEX. FORRESTER.

PREFACE.

TiiK educational views, presented in the following page?, were originiilly
delivered, in the shape of lectures, to the students of the Normal School of
Nova Scotia ; and are now published in the hope that they may still be of
use to some of these individuals, as well as to others, who may hereafter
attend that or .any similar institution, and to all Interested In the general
cause of the education of the young.

We have often been requested by the pupil-tcachcrs, leaving the Normal
School, to furnish them with a list of professional books, by which they might,
on future occasions, refresh their memories, or which they might consult in
ca^es of doubt or uncertainty, or peruse for their general benefit and
encouragement. In complying witii this request, we have experienced no
small difliculty in recommending books exactly adapted to their circumstances,
or whose educational views accorded with those in which they had just been
indoctrinated. There is no book, for example, to which we feel more
indebted, or which we could more cordially recommend, than Sfotn's Training
System ; and yet, one-half, at least, of that admirable work is Intended and
fitted to meet the educational wants of densely peopled and morally sunken
large cities or manufacturing districts. Excellent publications on the business
of teaching have, also, from time to time, appeared in the neighbouring
Republic, but these, to a certain extent, at least, both in their inner and
outer arrangements, are unsuitable for these colonies. In these circum-
stances, a Text-book for teachers, adapted to the educational condition of the
country, has long appeared to ns a desideratum ; and to supply this defect Is
one of the leading objects of this volume. Every one, at all acquainted with
the history of method In the educational process, will readily perceive that
the views we advocate, are substantially those en>bodied in the publication,
to which reference has just ' '" made. These views we have endeavoured
to systematize and elaborate, . ,.. In their theoretical and practical bearing.
If these views are sound, — and sound we consider them to be, — whether
brought to the touchstone of phllosojjhy, or revelation, or experience, then,
verily, they are worthy the support, the exposition, and the illustrallon of
every enlightened and pro;. "H educationist. This has been our aim ; and
if we have succeeded In reducing these views to a more systematic form, or
in adapting them to the external circumstances of these colonies, and thereby
commer^dlng them to the calm and earnest consideration of our fellow,
laboui ^ the educational field, we have our reward.

VUl.

PREFACE.

Another reason influencing us in the publication of this volume, is the
benefit likely to arise from being able to put into the hands of students
attending Normal Schools a professional Text-book. However carefully pre-
pared the prelections of a teacher or professor, however calmly delivered or
well understood, and copiously noted down, these prelections may be by the
great majority of the pupils, there will generally be found inaccuracies and
imperfect views on the part of some, and a vague comprehension on the
part of others, even in reference to essential points. To obviate all this ii
the grand object of a Text-book, composed either by the professor himself, or
by some one whose views are, as nearly as possible, in accordance with his
own. Prescribing a certain portion of said book for preparation by the
pupils every night, and thoroughly examining them the following day, with
the explanations and illustrations of the professor, is, in our view, vastly the
best mode of arriving at a clear understanding of the subject In hand. Now
and again, some advantage may arise from a well digested and condensely
delivered lecture on some one branch of the subject under review, but the
grand leading features will be far more clearly comprehended, and more
thoroughly incorporated into the students' minds by the diligent perusal of a
Text-book, than by an entire dependence upon the viva voce utterances of
the professor or teacher, however profound and eloquent.

But there are hundreds of our teachers who have "^.ever had an oppor-
tunity of attending a Normal School. Many of these ; ersons are skilful and
successful teachers, possess much of the spirit of their calling, and are sin-
cerely desirous to advance in their professional attainments. To such, the
following pages may prove of some benefit. If not In the theoretical, at least,
in the practical department. Whatever the system pursued, there are many
suggestions and directions in the latter, which, to a painstaking teacher, may
be of use. At all events, the perusal of such a treatise may help to elevate
their conceptions of the importance of the work In wliich they are engaged,
and thereby bring them under a more realizing sense of their responsibility
and privilege.

But there are other reasons besides the local or provincial, that have
prompted to the publication of this volume. There Is not, perhaps, a more
substantial proof of the improvement at present going on in educational mat-
ters, than is furnished by the large and increasing number of books on the
business of teaching, that have recently issued from the press. And yet,
notwithstanding the number of such publications, we know none that pro-
fesses to reduce the whole subject of education to a scientific or systematic
form. In some, we have the principles or theory discussed ; in others, the
practice or the art ; and in others, some one branch of the inner or outer
work of education. But in the best and most copious of these works, there
are oftentimes great and palpable defects. An undue jiromlnence is given
to some points to the all but total neglect or underrating of others ; and,
generally speaking, there is awanting a grand, leading, all pervading principle,
moulding, and fashioning, and weaving all the parts, according to their rcla-

PBEFACE.

iz.

tivc value into one harmonious whole, — one reigning system. And this is
what we have attempted and aimed at in the ibllowing treatise. If it pos-
sesses any merit, it consists in presenting a compendious, consecutive view of
the whole subject, in all its various compartments aud proportions.

It cannot, of course, be expected, that, on some points, there should be the
same minuteness of detail, as is to be found in some books all but exclusively
devoted to their discussion and illustration. Still, it is bclie\ d, there is no
essential point omitted in any one department. And, when further informa-
tion regarding it is deemed desirable, reference is made throughout to the
source whence it mjiy be derived. This is the claim we advance on behalf of
our Text-book, in so far as its relation to the general interests of education is
concerned ; and on this ground we fondly hope, it may serve as a book of
reference not only to teachers and others directly engaged in the work, but
to educational pliilanthropists in general, as well as to enlightened statesmen, —
such statesmen as are possessed of discernment enough to see, that, in the
promotion of a sound popular education, they are pursuing a course most
directly securing the diffusion of that righteousness which alone exalteth a
nation.

We have already expressed our obligation to Stow, the great pioneer of
all modern improvements in the inner life of education. Within these ten
years, we have visited the most celebrated Normal Schools in the United
States of America, in Canada, Britain, and on the continent of Europe, as the
best exponents of method, and yet, notwithstanding the reluctance of not a
tew to give honour to whom honour is due, no where have we met anything
in theory or practice, the germ of wliich is not embedded in Stow's training
systoin ; and that, simply, we apprehend, because that gentleman received all
his lessons in the school of experience, and sat a close and humble student at
the foot alike of nature and of revelation. N.ay, we hesitate not to aver, thsit
we have seen but few schools, indeed, professedly conducted on the training
system, where anything hke justice is done to that system in its leading
peculiarities, as laid down by its distinguished founder ; and that when the
day dawns upon any country in which it shall be fairly and universally, and,
in all its length and breadth, carried into effect, it will be the brightest and
most glorious in the annals of its history.

But there are other educational works to which we are also much indebted,
especially for their practical suggestions. Those, on the inner life of educa-
tion, which we have principally consulted, and from which we have derived
the largest benefit, are the following : — belonging to Britain, Morrison's School
Management, Currie's Common School Education, the Reports of H. M.
School Inspectors, both in Scotland and England ; and, belonging to America,
Page's Theory and Practice, Potter and Emerson's School and Schoolmaster.
And, on the outer work, or the external machinery, the best and most
reliable are, Barnard's National Education in Europe, Barnard's American
Journal, Horace Mann's Lectures, and Cousin's Report on Schools in France,
Reports of Dr. Egerton Ryerson on Schools of Upper Canada, Reports of

X, PREFACE.

Roya J Commissioners of Groat Britain, Reports of the Committee, of Council
on Education, State of Educational enterprises by Rev. William Frazcr,
Paisley, &e.

But whilst we have perused these and similar publications with profit, it
must not be supposed that the contents of the followinrr pages are made up of
mere compilations, of conjectural statements, or of speculative theories.
There is scarcely a recommendation made on any one of the topics discussed,
that has not been tested experimentally, and found not only practicable and
satisfactory, but eminently successful in the accomplishment of the object
contemplated. Our great i-egret is, that our opportunities of exemplifying
the views propounded have been so limited and circumscribed. But, believ-
ing, as we do, that the principles advanced, and the practical directions
founded thereon, are in ncordance with sound philosophy and the plain
dictates of revelation, and lat they only require to be weighed and exhibited
to demonstrate their excellence and utility, we have been all the more
emboldened to contribute our quota, with a view to their wider dissemination.
However feeble or imperfect our advocacy, we trust our readers will not,
thereby, be debarred from giving to them a fair and candid consi'' ' ation, or,
what to us would be still more gratifying, subjecting them to the ^.acible of a

severe and testing experiment.

ALEXANDER FORRESTER.
Truro, Novembkr, 1867.

CONTENTS.

BOOK L— THE NATURE OF EDUCATION.

CiiAPiBR I. — Explanation of Terms and Expressions.
Education. Instrnction. Training. Public and Private Education. School,
College and University. The Common School, the Mixed or Miscellaneous and
Graded, the Grammar or High School, the Academy. The Industrial, Reformatory
and Ragged School. Middle and first class Schools of England. Normal School
or College, with Model and Practising Schools. P. 2 — 9

Chapter II. — Object or end of Education.

Definition of Education. End of Education of two-fold aspect. 1. Ilarnionious
growth of all the parts of child's nature ; 2. Right direction of these parts. Means
of Education, Exercise, mainly carried on by the imparting of knowledge. Means
proportionate to the end. P. 9 — 1 5

Chapter IIL — The Importance op Education.

Education regarded iustrumentally. Its importance apparent from the l)enefits it
confers on the Individual, the State, and the Church, I. Benefits to the Individual :
a. Places all parts of Complex Nature in legitimate position ; b. Qualifies for Duties
of Life ; c. Oj)ens up Sources of Gratification ; d. Ennobles and dignifies Humanity :
c. Augmoiits Eternal Felicity. II. Benefits to State : Civil Government an Ordi-
nance of Heaven. Prosperity of State on three Elements : 1. Intelligence; 2. In-
dustry ; 3. Morality. 1 . What Intelligence does ? a. Dissipates the evils of
Popular Ignorance ; b. Adds productiveness to Human Labour ; c. Renders all
resources of Nature subservient to Man. 2. What Industry does 1 a. Develops
and applies resources of Country ; 6. Leads to Economy ; c. Dries up sources of
Pauperism; rf. Gives Overplus of Means. 3. What Morality does? a. Mainspring
of Body Politic ; b. Lessens amount of Vice and Crime, and, by consequence,
Public Expenditure ; c. Secures the blessing of the God of Nations. Education
necessary for all this must develop, interest and train. These elements must co-
exist and co-operate. III. Benefits to Church : a. Education makes all subservient
to the promotion of Truth and Righteousness ; b. Perpetuates Truth ; c. Promotes
highest interests of Church ; d. Adds largely to Church's usefulness ; c. Education
best and speediest way of E vangclizing the Nations. P. 15—48

ziL

CONTENTS.

BOOK II.— SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

! ,

CnAPTBR I. — What it is.

Classification of its principles. These principles viewed in two aspects ; 1, The
lending; Features or Characteristics of the Child's nature ; and, 2. The means to be
resorted to for the development of the same. Enumeration of these features with
their appropriate adaptations. 1*. 48 — 51

CUAFTEK II. — FiRST CUARACTERISTIC.

Every child a compound being, having a physical, intellectual, emotional, ajstheti-
cal and moral nature. I. Physical Education. Its meaning, general and special,
founded on Anima! Physiology. — a. School-houF' — ventilation, temperature, light;
dependent on nutritive system of organs. — b. Fui niture of School — graded ; on sup-
porting system. — c. Scholars, — clean, neat and orderly ; on Cutaneous system. —
d. Scholars attention, — physical exercises ; on Muscular system. — e. Regulation of
studies, — variety, regularity, punctuality and iteration; on Nervous syitem. II. In-
tellectual Education, — its meaning, — Founded on Intellectual Philosophy. Classifi-
cation of powers of Intellect. Intellectual Education consists of tvo parts ;- -Giving
proper food, and in a way that it will be digested ; Latter involves twi i things,
theory and practice. Intellectual powers considered seriatim ; a. Perception ;
b. Conception ; c. Memory ; d. Imagination ; e. Generalization ; /. Reasoning ;
g. Intuition ; — their nature, importance, and education. III. Emotional Educa-
tion, — meaning, — Founded ou sensibilities. Classification ; — Emotions, aflectiont
and desires. Each of these classes considered ; nature, position and education.
IV. The will — viewed psychologically — what embraced in every act ot will —
Imp<.>rtance of will — Executive of whole man — Education of will. Exercise, — regu-
lar course of education, keeping l)ody healthful, punctuality at studies, write critique
of what re.id. V. iEsthetical Education. Its import, — in what the beautiful con-
sists; — Illustrations, — Taste, both in ellectual and emotional ; Importance of the
Beautiful — its influence, elevating and refining ; — Utility in Commerce and in
Natural Theology, Education of Taste, Exercise, Actual Practise. Chief works
of great masters. Study of Nature. VI. Moral Education. Nature of conscience ;
Supremacy ; Outstripping importance of this branch. The education of discrimi-
native, obligatory and testifying. Conscience fallible. Whence light and guidance ?
Bible ; — its adaptation, — use in schools ; manner and spirit of use ; occasions of
use, — a. In public devotions of school; b. Repository of religious and moral
instruction ; c. Directory or Statute-Book in every day moral duties ; d. Last
standard of appeal ; e. Need of gracious influences. P. 52 — 203

Chapter III. — Second Characteristic.

The various ingredients of the child's compound nature are in indissoluble union
and rec'iirocal dependence : — adaptation, simultaneous exercise. Influence of mind
on body in health and disease. Extract from Abercrombie's Intellectual Philoso-
phy. Influence of mind on body. Of one part of mind on another ;— of intellect
on sensibilities, on the beautiful, on conscience ; — reaction, conscience on intellect,
body, &c. A Captation process ; — exercise the various ingredients of compound
nature, individually, and simultaneously, so as to aid one another. P. 203 — 213

C0NTENT8.

XIU.

CnXPTEB IV.— TniBD CnARACTEniSTIC.

Great diversity of Mental Endowment and Temperament in the young. The
adaptation here is the presentation of a variety of sub'jcts, principally through the
medium of Oral Lessons. Diversity of Endowment, — in intellect, feeling and con.
science. Adaptation, — great variety of subjects, as widely different as possible.
Apcomplished mainly by means of Oral Lessons. More clone here by the mode of
presentation than by the subject itself. Answers given both simultaneously and
individually. Mode by which the peculiarity or idiosyncrasy of one may contribute
to the benefit of all, viz., inverting the right answer into the form of a question, and
throwing it back upon the class. Moral eflfcct of this practice. P. 21-3 — 217

CnAPTBR V. — Fourth CnARACTBRiSTic.

Different epochs of Intellectual Development in the young. The adaptation to
this feature, imparting branches of knowledge, the best suited to these several
epochs. Meaning of characteristic. Order of the epochs. Reason assigned for
their manifestation. Adaptation to first epoch, from 3 — 8 years. Perception.
Word to Mothers. First business at school. Attainments at eight. Second
epoch, 8 — 12. Bepresentative. Memory and Imagination. Branches best adapt-
ed. Third epoch, 12 and upwards. Generalization and Ileasoning. Branches
most suitable. P. 218—228

Chaftbr VI.— Fifth Chabact eristic.

Great diversity of attainment. Teaching by outlines, the adaptation process
here. The universality and origin of the existence of this feature. Meaning of
teaching by outlines. Two illustrations taken from teaching History and Granunar.
Benefits of this method of teaching. P. 229—232

Chapteb Vn.— Sixth Chabactebistic.
The influence of the Sympathy of Nu'nbers in the School-room, and the means
best fitted to render this influence available. Meaning of feature, with illustra-
tions. Means to be employed to give tliis principle every advantage and force in
School-room : 1. Thorough classification — specially graded schools. 2. Non-sepa-
ration of the sexes. 3. Gallery, or elevated seats and desks. 4. Enclosed play-
ground. P. 232—238

Chapteb Vm.— Seventh ChabactbuISTic.

The impressibility of the young. The adaptation to this feature is a steady,
continuous and well-regulated education. Universality of feature in organic beings,
and specially in man. Responsibility involved. Application of the adaptation
process, a steadily continued and progressive education. P. 238—243

BOOK III.— THE ART OF EDUCATION.

Chapter I.— Branches Tauoht.
These branches divided into two classes :— I. Those that plainly furnish the
means for the acquisition of knowledge and the discipline of the mind; and 11. Those
that impart knowledge more directly. I. a. Music ; b. English reading — from
alphabet to the highest ehwutionary exercise, with all its accompaniments ; c.
Grammar; d. Classics; e. Mathematics, embraciag Arithmetic, Algebra and G«o-

XlV.

CONTENTS.

I I

metry, both theoretical and practical ; /. Writing, Drawing and Painting ; <J,
Book-keeping. II. a. Oral Lessons ; b. Geography ; c. History ; d. Natural Science ;
e. Elements of Natural Philosophy ; /. Psychology ; g. Elements of Social Science
or Political Economy. P. 245—287

Chapter II. — Method op Isipartiho ICnowledqe.

Outline. Meaning of Chapter. Sect. I. Philosophy of method, viewed both
subjectively and objectively. Sect. 2. History of method. Prominent characters,
who, at different epochs, flourished both in Old and New World. Sect. 3. Five
distinct systems : Rote, Mechanical, Monitorial, iixplanatory, Objective, Training*
Sect. 4. Selection of a system. Ground on which a selection should be made.
Sect. 5. More particular exposition of the Training system adopted. Sect. 6. Ex-
emplification of Training system in teaching the different branches of education.
Branches enumerated in preceding chapter gone over in order ; how taught in
accordance with our system. P. 288 — 490

Chapteb III. — The Iustrcmentality.
Sect. I. School Premises — a. Site; b. Quantity of ground; c. Size of the build-
ing ; d. Form and architecture of the building ; e. Interior of the building, furniture,
apparatus ; f. Lighting of the school ; g. Ventilation ; t. Enclosed play -ground,
uses ; ./. Graded schools ; k. Outhouses. Sect. 2. School Organization — a. Regis-
tration ; 6. Classification ; c. Distribution of time. Sect. 8. Management of
Schools. Tbis embraces two things — I. Recitations, including assigning of lessons,
recitation of lessons, average attainment at certain ages, reviews, publi -imina-
tions. 2. School government, including — a. Means used for securii good
government; b. Whole doctrine of rewards and punishments. P. 490 — 546

Chapter IV.— The Living Agent, or Schoolmaster.
Sect. 1. Duties of Teacher — (a) to Mmself, (6) his scholars, (c) their parents,
{d) trustees or committee of management, (e) community around, (/) his profes-
sion. Sect. 2. Qualifications of Teacher — (a) personal, (6) literary, (c) professional.
Sect. 3. Means of obtaining professional qualifications; Normal Schools, how con-
ducted, officers, and special functions ; Benefits of Normal Schools ; History ;
Teacher's Institutes ; Teacher's Associations. Sect. 4. Female Teaching. Sect. 5.
Difficulties of Teacher. Sect. 6. Rewards of Teacher. P. 546—570

SUBDIVISION II.— THE EXTERIOR.

Chapter I. — Duty of the State to EGncATioN.
Sect. 1. Reasons why the State should establish and uphold a national education,
a. Its allegiance to the governor of the nations ; b. Its responsibilities ; c. Its serv-
ing the purposes for which it was instituted ; d. No other power or agency capable
of overtaking the work. Sect. 2. What the State ought to do — a. It ought to
provide an adequate quantity ; b. Compel the attendance of all ; c. Do what in it
lies to secure the best quality ;— The religious element. P. 570 — 592

Chapter II. — The Duty of the Chdrch to EDncATioN.
Sect. 1 . Provision made by Head of the Church for the education of the young —
a. He has imposed certain obligations on the parent, acting under the authority
and direction of the Church ; b. He has enforced and illustrated this arrangement

CONTENTS.
Wh!t\rrrT''' '• ^''' '^' ^•'"'■•^'''^ °^" '"*«^««t and privilege. Sect 2.

clnti • Sh tV'"''^'''' '"^^■'" P^^-'l'""^" -l-l""tc and suitable
quan u^ , b She ought to see that tlie ed.ication given is of the right sort • c She
ough to take steps to ascertain, that this education, both in point of qua^ti y and
quahty, is actually given. quantity ana

^ r. 592—599

Chapter III.-Nationai, Systems of Education
Meaning of National System. I. What should a National System embrace-a
Distinctive features of School. College and University ; L Difference itwlTn
bchoolmaster and Professor. „ "^'-wti.u

P. 599—605

CiiAPTEn IV.-Support of Natioxal Edccation

ta.xalon!"""'""" '"°''' "' '"^P"' ^'''- ^-I^^ff^rent ways of levying direct

P. 606—610
Chapter V.-Supervisiok of ^National Systems of Education
1. Central Board with Superintendent of Education. 2. County or District
S::™"^ with Local Inspector. 3. Trust^s or Managers of LLn S

Chapter VI.— Legislative Enactments.

1. Subjects of Legislation. 2. Order of Subjects. P. 615-618

Conclusion.

P. 619—621

P. 610,— 615

I ?

THE TEACHER'S TEXT-BOOK.

BOOK I.

THK NATURE OF EDUCATION.

Under this leading division, we shall, first, explain and define a few
of the more common terms employed in the treatment of our subject,
and, then, as briefly as possible, unfold its objer-t and importance.
Grievous ignorance and misapprehension jji'evail on these fundamental
points. Not a few entertain the most inadetjuate -..ad imiierfect views
of the end of education, and these views, necessarily, lead to the most
errotuMtiis and absurd notions, as to the mi^ans best ada[)ted for the
accoKiplishraent of that end. With others, there is a sad confounding
of the means and end, of the inner and outer departments, of the
province of the statesman, on the one hand, and of the schoolmaster,
on the other ; and from these and similar sources have sprung almost
all the contentions, the diflicultir^s and collisions, that have obstructed
the carrying out of national systems, as well as the furtherance of the
general cause. In the minds of others, there exist the most selfish
and contracted ideas relative to the results of education, as if these
appertained to the recipients alone, and conferred no benefit on the
surrounding community — the state, or the (;hurch; and, hence, the
lack of combined, catholic effort, to secure, at once, the largest
quantity, the best quality, and, at the lowest cost. It is hoped, then,
that a few observations on these topics, introduced at this early stage,
will be instrumental in removing, at least, some of these misconcep-

TEACIIEU S TEXT-IJOOK.

tioiis, . '111(1 clovating our theme to its nppropnato aiul ri;f|itfiil position;
thus hiyiiig a solid Ibuiidatioii lor tlu; discussion of the bunk'H of our
work — the science and art of edir^'atluii.

CHAPTER I.

KXl'L A NATION OF TKKMS AND ..XI'UKSSIONS.

KuucATiov. — Instritction. — TnAiNiXG. — PiJHMC Axr> PiuvA n: EnrcATioN. —
School, Collkge and Univkusity. — Thk Common Sci.ook, tiik ]\Ii.\ei»

oil MlSCKLI.AVKOrS AM) GUADKI), TUi; ( il! VMMA It Oli HkMI ScIIOOI,, TIIK

Acadkmv. — TnK Ixix stkiai,, 1{i;i'oi{matoi{v avd Haocjkd School. —
MiDKLi; ANiJ riifsr class Schools ok En(;lani). — Nokmal School oi;

COLLCOK, AVini MopKL AND I'H ACTTSINC, SciIOOLS.

In considering any subject, it is of essential moment, that we have
clear and delinite views of the meaning of its leading terms. Tliougli
these, strictly speaking, may not he technical, they are, nevertheless,
used in a wider or more limited sense ; and it is right that that sense
be lixed and steadily adhered to, as it will afterwards save much
misapprehension and confusion. Now, there are few subjects in
reference to which there obtains gi-eater vagueness or indeiiniteness
of conception than the one under review, or whose terms are used in
a more loose and indiscriminate acceptation. Hence, it is desirable,
that we devote a few pagos to the derivation and exposition of the
words, in more general use, in educational matters. W(i begin with
tJie word education itself.

Education. — Thi Is pla'"'y the Latin word educatio anglicized
by appending the letter n. This is derived from educo-avi-ntintt-arv.
to hriiKj up, to nurture, and not, as some have; supi)Osed, from educa-
xl-ctum-ere, to lead, draw or hrinij out, however closely allied the roots
of these \erbs may bc». Education thus, according to its derivation,
simiilies the act oi' briiiiriiiij nu. nurturinji, fosteriiii!;, trainiii";. When
used ill reference to mankind in general, as in the following ])assage :
• The people in the liritish Colonies are not yet very self-reliant ;
they rc(piire to be educated uji loit;" it means that our ])owers or
eneimes ar<^ drawn out. exercised and streiiiftliened. relative to anv
particular object or thing. Wlieii applied to the young, however, it
signifies the whole of that work by which all the parts of their com-
pound nature, in its essential elements, its indissoluble relations, its
wide-spreading influences and tendencies, are nurtured, developed, and

NATURE OF EDUCATION.

icizetl

'diico-

root-s

[atioii.

When

[Hunt :
Icrs or
|() any

/er, it

com-

Ins, its

ll, an<l

strengtlioncd, and thus rendered suhscr\'ient Tor the put noses intended.
In common nsago, it comprehends not merel;y tlie end contemphited,
but all the means and appliances necessary thereto.

Instkuction. — This noun is derived from the Latin word Struere-
sfructits, to hin'lfl or rat'se, with the i)refix in, into, and allix iitn, (he
art of doiny ; and thus means, according to its primary signincation,
the act of building into the mind, the act of communicating knowledge ;
and it seems further to imply that this is done, not confusedly or
indiscriminately, but in systematic order. When used in reference to
the young, it means tlie infusing into their minds of certain facts, or
truths, or pieces of information, and the doing of this in a way adapted
to their age, measure of capacity and attainnuiut. In this sens(>, it is
synonymous with the terms teachimj or telluiy, and evidently implies
two things — the subject-matter or the ktiowledge itself, and the mode
in which it is given. In all its fulness, it signifies the means employe<l
for the accomplishment of the high end of the education of the young.
Traixixo. — This word is often used in connection with education.
and, not unfreipuMitly, with much vagueness and indefiniteness. —
Though of Saxon origin it is by some considered a derivative of the
Latin word tra/wre, to draw ; and, hence, in its general acceptation it
signities to draw or drag along by enticement or allurement. " For
this cause," says Shakespcre, " I trained thee to my house." Some-
what more definitely, it is used to describe the employment of the
irardener, in nailiuij the bush or tree to the wall or trellis, and in
forming it to a proper shape by toi)i)ing, or pruning, or such like
appliances. He is then said to train the bush or tree. In pretty
much the same sense, it is applied to animals, — dogs or horses, for
example; when by a repetition of acts in anyone em|)loyment oi'
|)ursuit, they acipiire proficiency therein, they are said to have been
trained to it. In this sense, too, it is used in reference to apprentices,
who, by steady and unwearied reiteration in the various branches of
their calling, arrive at such skill and dexterity, as to entitle them to be
considered superior t; adesmen ; and these, again, are spoken of as
having passed through a train: ng process, lint in no pursnit is the
term more frequently employed than in education ; and with peculiar
aitpropriateness, seeing it is the term made use of in the sacred
Scrijitures to characterize the whole upbringing of the young: —
"Train up a child in tlie way he should go, and when he is old, he
will not depart from it." Hence, Normal Schools are sometimes
called Training Schools, becaus*:", if true to their character, they pre-
pare the students in attendance for their life-work, not merelv bv

TEACIIKHS TKXT-BOOK.

exU'tiding and ('oiis()li(latiii<i; their sclioliirslnp and imparting a theore-
tical kn<)wh'd<;(' of their fntnre calling, hut Uy requiring them practically
to teach and tt> manage a school ; and to persevere in this exercise,
even until they arrive at j)roficiency — a mode of procedure, evidently
implying that Model or practising schools form an integral part of all
such institutions. When regarded in this as[»ect. Normal Schools,
whatever the educational system or the method of tt aching pursued in
them, are appropriately styled Trainiiif/ Schools.

IJut the term under consideration is employed to characterize a
particular method of teaching, which though, in its essential elements,
most strictly accordant with philosophy and revelation, was never
fully developed or matured, till alunit forty years ago, by the distin-
guished philanthropist and atiKifcin' educationist, David Stow, of
Glasgow, Scotland. This is called, pre-r-minently, T/ie Training
Si/sfem, in contradistinction to all other systems, because it professes
to develop and strengthen the various parts of the child's nature by
exercise, that is, by a repetition of the same act. Instead of solving
his diHiculty, it merely puts the scholar on the way of doing it
himself; instead of telling him what to do at every stage of his
progress, it only directs him into the right track; and, by a series of
legitimate a))pliances, constrains him to pass, by the use of his f)wn
powers, from the region of the known into that of the unknown, and
to deduce, from the narrative or subject in hand, the lessons intended
to be tauiiht. In this sense, the term is nearly svnonymous with
nurture, discipline, tutorage, jjointing not so much to effects or results,
as to a special mode or way of bringing them about.

The three terms, thus explained, stand in the following relation to
one another : — Education is the bringing up, or the nurturing, the
growth or expansion of all the parts of the cliild's compound nature ;
instruction is the food or nourishment, the material or subject suited
for the produ.',tion of that growth or expansion; and training is the
mode or way in which the food is administered or the subject presented.
The lirst mainly points to the end we ought to have in view, the
second and third, to the means.

PuiiLic AND Pkivatk EDUCATION. — The expression j)rivafe
education has two meanings attached to it. It is sometimes used to
signify a school not receiving pul)lic or governmental money, conducted
on the teacher's own adventure ; but more frecpuMitly, it is taken in
the sense of private or domestic, where the children of only one family
receive education. The cpiestion, — Whether a pidilic or private
• education, as thus explained, is to be preferred ? is one that has been

. \'

NATURE OK EDUC \TION.

i>y

ioii to
J, the

iture ;

;uito(l

lis the
'iited.
', the

•irate

mI to

lucted

'II iu

limily

rivate

been

lon^ and keenly anitalcil. Eaeli s'u\o has In- 1 its advoeatos, and,
soiin'tinies, the controvt'rsy lias hecii wa^Jt'd with coiisidrrahlc talent
and warmth. Tht; ablest writer i;i suiipnrt of private <'dncation, in
modern times, is Isaac.' 'PaylDr, in hn treatise on Home Education,
and, ofpnblie, Horace Mann of America. The former mode can only
be carried into etfeet by those parents who lui]) ;)en to be possessed of
sutlicient means to enabh; them to keep a teacher for their 'hildren,
under their own roof, called a Tutor or Governor, or, if a female, a
Governess, '"'he tendency of the ajxe is decidedly in favour of public
education, tn« highest and wealthiest in every land ;L;ivi:ig their
children, at least, a certain amount of it, and the first class schools
beinj^ constructed and regidateil in adaptation thereto. This, in our
opinion, is, as it ou^ht to be. All the advantaifcs arising from a
private education, can and onght to be servc(l in a public, and there
are innumerable benefits in th(^ latter, arising from the sympathy of
nund)ers, which do not and cannot belong to the former.

TiiK School, tiik C'()i-M:<iK, and nir, Univkijsity. — Though
these three educational institutions are perfectly distinct in their
objects and aims, they are but too often blended together and con-
fouii<led, or, at all events, the most vague and indefinite notions obtain
relative to their respective functions. Tlu^ School is intend(^d to
awake or ber'et a desire for knowledge, and to provide the means and
methods of accjuiring it ; the Collcf/f, to confer that intellectual and
moral information and discii)line, which is the common basis of all
liberal culture ; and the Untvcrsltt/, to (jualify for particular occupa-
tions, and, especially, for the learned ])roft!ssions. The maintenance of
this distinction w^ould operate beneficially in advancing the general
cause of education. It would, at any rate, evince the inutility and
absurdity of what are designated Collegiate Schools, and. still more, of
dtccntly-e(|uip])ed Academies being dignified with the appellation of
Colleges, or, of Colleges assuming the pretentious title of Universities.

TfiK Common School, Mixkd ok IMisckllankoi^s and Guao-
En, TIIK Grammar School, and the Academy. — These are
different grades of the School in contradistinction to the College or
the University. The first, or Common School, lies at the foundation
of the whole of the educational fabric, and, in commo:i phraseologj',
embraces, in branches taught, reading, writing and cyphering; and is
either miscellaneous or graded, meining by the former, a school with
all ages of pupils, and by the latter, one divided into departments
according to the age and attainment of the pui»ils, — beginning with
the Infant, then, the Primary or Initiatory, and then, the Intermediate

t ii

TEACIIKR 8 TEXT-nOOK.

111

til

or Juvenile, una lastly, the Iiif//i or Gmmmnr School. 'J'liis, in
Cominuii Schools, is one of the most important improvements of
modern times. It is jnst the application of tlie division of lahour to
t'dncation, and is admirably fitted to fnrther its hi<fhest end. The
Gramnmr Sr/iool, sonu^timcs railed the Niy/t Sr/iaol, differs from the
Common School by th(! addition of tlu^ higher departments of (i ram-
mat', IMathematics and Classics. The Acotlcnii/, when eondncted in
accordance with its position in the school series, occupies a liiyher
platform than the Grammar or IL'(/h School, oven a kind of inter-
mediate place between the Grammar School and College. In Britain
and on this Continent, it corresponds with the Gi/mnasium in
Germany and several European States.

Tin: Industiual, Rkkok.m.vtouv and Racoed Schools. —
Though these have one common object, by which they are distin-
guished from the othei* schools already referred to, viz., the combined
discipline of the intellectual and manual powers, the derelopment of the
mental faculties and the training to habits <f industry at one and the
same time ; yet they are all, in some respects, ditlerent.

The first, or Industrial School, possesses great latitude of meaning.
It is applied to all schools where manual employment exists, however
limited in extent. Even a female school, where sewing, knitting, &c.,
are practised, sometimes passes under this designation. IMore appro-
priately, it is applied to any educational establishment where manual
labour is resorted to — where young females are taught the various
household employments, or males, some trade or worldly calling.

The Jieformatori/ School is much more s])ecitic in its character. It
is designed to promote, by a training and industrial process, the
reformation of the juveiule — vicious and criminal. Reformatories
have existed on a small scale in all Cliristian lands, sometimes
maintained by the Church, and sometimes l)y private individuals or
corporations. In more modern times, they have assumed a much more
systematic form. Nations have jiassed statutory ena(!tments by which
provision has been made for the reclaiming of youthful oHenders,
either in connection with the penitentiary, or jail, or otherwise, by the
combination of mental and moral culture, and of manual labour in
some one trade or pursuit according to their own choice. In less
aggravated cases, laws exist by which magistrates are empowered,
after the period of the incarceration or hand labour iu Bridewells, of
young criminals, is over, to consign them, for a period of years, to
industrial schools or reformatories, sujiported either by private indi-
viduals, or by the State, or, partially, by both. The benefits conferred

NATURE OF EDUCATION.

the
n'cs
mcs
or

liic'h
lers,

the
in

less

red,
Is, of
ts, to

iiuli-
n-recl

l»v these institutions, when judiciouslv and rcliiiiouslv ooiiducted, it ia
inipossihle to overestimate. " No one," says IMr. Frazer, ''eau visit
the (}las<,'o\v House of Hefuge and witness some 400 or r>00 ho^-s, at
one time earnestly prosecutinj^ their education, and at another toiling
at their res|iective trades, without profoundest thankfuliKi.ss for the
social and moral light resting so richly on these oiitcasts, and for the
gleams of hopefulness it throws over their future." Still thc! most
enlightened nations are hut experinienlali/ing on this vastly important
sul)je(!t. Many modili('atii>ns an<l alterations for the improvement of
these institutions, both in the matter of le<dslation and manaiicment,
will yet, we believe, be found to he necessary.

The Rafff/cd School is of this class, and, to us, tlie most important
and interesting. It professes to give a sound physical, intellectual,
moral and religious education, along with a thorough, industrial
training, to those childn-u who either have no parents, or whose
parents are too vicious or indifferent to care for their education, and
who, in consequence, are allowed to grow iip in indolence and
ignorance, in raggedness and vice. These are generally laid hold of
before they have committed any actual dej)redations, which would
subject them to the sentence of the law, ai' "i safely depo.sited in the
Ragged School. They are clothed and fe during the day, and, if
they are houseless or have no proper accc nimodation at home, pro-
vision is made for their comfortable shelter and protcetiou at night.
The following is the general plan on which the original Ragged
School of Edinburjjh is conducted : —

" To give the children an allowance of food for their daily support.

To instruct them in reading, writing, and arithmetic.

To train them t habits of industry, by instructing and employing
them daily in such sorts of work as are suited to their years.

To teach tl)em the truths of the Gospel, making the Holy Scrip-
tures the groundwork of instruction.

On Sabbath, the children shall receive food as on other days, and
.such religious instruction as shall be arranged by the acting committee."

Such is the nature and design of the Rnggcd School ; and however
brief our statement, enough has surely l)een said to invest it with
nuich deeper interest and importance than the Reformatory, seeing
that it acts more upon the preventive than the restorative, presenting
thereby a far finer field of Christian philanthropy, and far more likely
to be productive of benign and substantial results.

Mini)T,i': AND First-Class Schools of England. — This class
of Schools exists only in England, and evidently owes its origin to

■ I

'I
I I

nil

i:'

'!:>

111 i!

1,1 !

8 TKAOffKIl's TEXT-nOOK,

the (litrcrent ^•iiiIcs or ranks of society. The former is intended for
the ehilch'en of parents in the middk; ranks of life, such as niaster-
intchanics, farniers, siiopkeeiters, and the like. The hittt'r, the prin-
cipal of wiiieii are Eton, Winchester, Westminster, Charterliouse,
Si. "aul's, M«!r(;hant-Tailor's, Harrow, Kiighy, and Shrewslmry, is
intended for the children of the princely merchants, the wealthy
proprietors, and the nobles of the land. Mathematics form tlie staple
branch of the middle class schools, classics of the first class.

Noii.MAL School ou CoLLK<iK, with its Modkl a\i> PiiAC-
TisiNti Schools. — ^Tho Normid School, of comparatively modern
date, has for its gi'and ohject the professional (lualilicution of the
teacher, on which account, as jdready stated, it is son»etimes eullcd the
Training Sch;x)l. It derives its name from a Latin word, which
signilies a fixed principle, or law, or standard, thereby indicating that
whatever is the educational metluMl juloi)ted, it must jjei-vade the whole
organization and management, all the branches taught umst be in
accordance with that one system. Whilst this institution endeavours
to consolidate and enlarge the scholarship of the pupils » attendance,
and for this puqwse is provided with teachers or tutors for the English
and Classical and Mathematical departments, its luain object is to
qualify its pupils for being teachers. When this object receives
justice, it is genendly divided into two compartments, the theoretical
and the practical ; the former, consisting of a course of lectures on the
science luid art of etlucation, delivered by a grtiater or less number of
teachers in the Normal School proper, or as it should rather be styled
Normal College, and the LiHer consisting of the best exemplification
of the system pursued and the actual practise. For this exemplification
a suite of Model Schools is provided, attended by children in the
locality and presided over by the best teachers. For the other, — a
practising or experimentalizing school is also provided, ftirnishing the
best specimen of the conmion school of the country, and in which the
Pupil -teachers statedly practise, both in the management of the
school, and in the imparting of instniction.

RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.
The terms explained refer either to the nature, mode oi jdace of
education. The term education, as we use it, is of extensive significa-
tion, comprehending every preparation made in youth for the sequel
of our life, or, more specifically, it means, the formation of character
through the cultivation of the body, the intellect, the emotions and

NATUKK OK RDl'CATIOIf. W

tlu! coiiHcicncf. In tlu; carrying out of this process or cultivation
certain things arc rcfjulsitc. There is kiiowh-dge itrelf, Honietimes
called instruction; there is the act of inipartinj^ it, scmetinies also
calU'd instruction, or tuition or teat hinjif ; tln^re is also tin mode of
imparting it, and when this mode has a reference to tluj developing or
unfolding of tln^ various parts of our heing l»y a repetition of the act,
on the part of the scholar, till the hahit is ac(piir('(l, it is called tvalni'ng
or 70(rfnrin(/, or, more vaguely, dlscijiUniuij.

The generic term given to all places where this educational process
is carried on is a sr/ioo/, — a word denoting, originally, leisure, time
given to sports and, afterwards, to literary .studies, — a word, according
to modern usage of the most extensive signification, comprehending
all ])laces of education, though ordinarily applied t. Seminaries inferior
to Collt'ift'S or Universities, and sometimes also indicatiui; the collec-
tive body of pui)ils assembled in any place of instruc^tion. The nature
of the instruction in any school, the age, the arrangements, and the
design, are all generally indicat"d by the word prefixed.

CHAPTER II.

ce of

■,\

ifica-

- i

jquel

;[\

acter

a)ul

...r.

OBJixr OR Exn ov education.

Defixition of Education. — End of Educatiox of two-folr aspect. —

1. II.viuif)\i()rs ouowTU OF Ai.r, tmi; v.vkts of child's natcuf. ;

2. HKJHT DIUKCriON OF TUKSE I'AKTS. MlvANS OF EDUCATION. — EXEK-

CISK, MAINI.V CAHKIKD ()., IIV THE IMl'AUTING OF KNOWLEDGE. MEANS

I'ltOI'OUTIONATE TO THE END.

This is a theme of transcendent importance. It is so in itself,
involving, as it does, the best and highest interests of man. individually
and collectively, in time and eternity ; affecting more dee{)ly and
extensively, than any other instrumentality, the fulfilment of the grand
purpos lor which he was made. It is so relatively, inasmuch as the
views entertained respe .g the end nuist influence the whole matter
of the instrumentality. The Wfiat must necessarily fashion and
mould the Hoio, the Who and the Wherewithal. But whatever be its
importance, it is but too apparent that the mo.'it vague and degraded
views prevail respecting it, not amongst the illiterate or unenlightened
merely, but even amongst the educated and intelligent. It were no
very difficult task to expose and refute these views. But we prefer,
at this stage, simply to exhibit and pourtray the truth on the subject,

I 1

ft''

II' I

TEACHER 8 TEXT-BOOK.

when these views will appear in their true cliaracter, as alike deroga-
tory to the dignity of our n.iture, tarnishing to the glory of the all-wise
and bountiful Creator, and subversive of the highest destiny of the
species. Keei)ing in view, then, the primary signification of the term,
jierhaps the })est and simjilesr, definition that can be given of the
education of the young is the following; — The use of all appropriate
mearis for seoiring the gradual development and (jroioth, as well as the
right direction, of all the parts of their compound being. This
•iefinition, it will be observed, is limited in its application to the young.
The term, however, takes a wider range. Man, from the time his
observational powers come into operation to the termination of his
earthly career, is passing through an educitional process. Nev^
objects, new truths and new scenes are, ever and anon, pr, ented to
his vision, and, if rightly exercised thereby, he must daily be adding
to his stock of knowledge, and growing in his capacity of apprehension
and investigation ; nay, we believe, that throughout eternity, his
education will be progressing apace and opening up to him fresh
sources of gratification and glory. This, however, is not the sense in
which the word is taken in the following pages. It is used strictly in
reference to the young, — that stage of human existence, when all the
organs, faculties and sensibilities of our compound nature are plastic,
most susceptible of cultivation and ir.iprovement, — the stage, too, more
especially, when the key v)f self-education is put into our hands ; and,
just as it is used, will the treasure-house of future riches l)e unlocked
and rendered available both for our comfort and usefulness. Rut it
will also be observed, that this definition is confined to t' • school-room,
though this is not the only place where the educational process is
carried on, even during this oeason. It is begun and continued within
the hallowed precincts of the domestic circle ; and it is only when the
closest sympathy and co-operation subsist between that circle and the
school-room, that the latter will fully accomplish its high and enno-
bling purpose.

But to return. If, as defined, the grand end to be aimed at in the
school-room is the growth of all the i)arts of the compound nature of
the young, then it is clear that all these parts exist, however rudi-
mental, — that they are to be found in the young, the same in kind
though dirterent in degree. How beautifully is this illustrated in
the vegetable and animal kingdoms ! Take, first, the seed or bud
of the plant. It is now, we believe, very generally admitted by
physiologists, that the whole of the future (dant is embedded in
the embryo or germ of the seed, and that with a sufficiently powerful

NATURE OF EDUCATION.

ickecl

iut it

•oom,

ss is

ithin

the

enno-

n the

ire of

rudi-

kincl

ed in

bud

B^d by

ed in

iverful

microsoope, the root, stem, and leaf, if not the parts of fructifica-
tion, may be discerned. And so it is with tlie k-af, or flower-bud.
The h'uves or petals are all wrapped up there, and only await the
genializing influence of spring to be evolved, or expanded. And
this phenomenon is equally will illustrated in the new-born young of
the animal kingdom. Take the infant. All the physical features of
an individual of the human species are there. Some, it is true, are
mow. prominent than others ; in one, the eye ; in another, the nose ;
in another the mouth, and so on ; but in every one, in a normal
condition, all the parts are there, though in a state of miniature,
requiring a long course of nursing, or training, before they reach the
maturitv of their being.

And as it is with man physically, so it is intellectually. All the
essential i)owers or faculties of the intellect exist in every individual
of the human species. Some of these are more consjjicuously displayed
in one than in another. One has his observational powers more
prominently developed ; another, his reasoning ; another' his imagina-
tive ; and another, his abstractive ; but they are all substantially there,
and only await the proper external appliances for their continuous
growth, their sj-mmetrical advancement from a state of zero to that of
perfection. And all this is equally the case with man's moral nature.
Again, the terms of our definition plainly imply that these parts,
— the leading characteristics of the child's nature, will not reach
the perfection of their being, spontaaeously. They may grow after a
fashion, but their whole api)earauce too palpably demonstrates that
the great end for which they exist will not be served, save for the
nourishment and treatment they receive in an adolescent state. The
acorn contains within itself, though to us in an occult and inscrutable
manner, the possibilities or conditions of a perfect oak ; and by no
process within our power can we evolve from an acorn anything else
than an oak. In order, however, to effect the development, and
instrumentally, perfect, as it were, the nature of the acorn, we must
bring to bear upon it circumstances external to itself; and it depends
on the knowledge and skill with which we regulate and adapt, in
conformity with the nature of the acorn, the external circumstances
which operate upon it, whether we educe from it a dwarfed, stunted,
warped and unsightly shrub, or a noble oak — the lord and monarch
of the forest.

And so it i*s with the animal kingdom, and especially with the
human species, physically regarded, whose young are the most delicate
and helpless of all animals. The infant grows into childhood, child-

■i^p

Ir;

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hood into youtli, suul youth into mature manhood ; but as to the
physical frame of the indivlihial, much, under God, depends on the
treatm(!nt received from the mother, wh<ui yet in an infantine condition.
There is the most intimate itid indissohd)le rehitionship between the
nourisliinii and fosterinff care of the mother of the cliild and tlie future
bodily frame of the man. \Vithhold or supjily that and the j)hysical
stamina and strength will wax or wane. And what are the appliances
requisite to produce, instrumentally, a jjcrfcct physical frame? First,
the mother must provide the food and other articles congenial to the
nature and circumstancjes of the child ; and, secondly, she must
administer them in such a way as will best secure their digestion and
assimilation. And so it is with the educator in reference to the
mental nature of t. j children placed under his care. His external
appliances are instruction and discipline, or knowledge and training;
and these, to be effectual, must be in accordance with the nature of
the faculty or sensibility intended to be exercised, with a view to its
enlargement and refinement ; and not only so, but imparted in the
way best fitted to accomplish this important end.

The difference between the end of education and the means to he
employed for its accomplishment, must now be palpable to all. The
real end of education is, we again repeat, the growth, the harmonious
growth and legitimate direction of all the parts of the com})lex nature
of the young, with t' requisite provision for their onward, never-
ending progression. It is so to foster and nurture, so to admonish and
control all the capabilities of the child's nature as that they shall serve
the end for which they were intended ; as that when tlu; child shall
have reached the prime of his days he may be able to think, and feel,
and speak, and act, like a man, in a manner beooming the dignity of
his being and the destiny awaiting him. It is, in one word, to mould
and form character, through the cidtivation of all our physical, intel-
lectual and moral energies. It is so to educate the child, that when he
becom(!s a man, he shall be able to educate himself.

Now the means by which this end may be most extensively accom-
plished, is the appropriate exercise of the constituent parts of the nature
of the young, by the imparting of sound knowledge. We say the
imparting of knowledge, for there is a marked difference between the
knowledge itself, and the way in which it is connnunicated. Every
possible variety of information may be presented to the child, and
presented with every species of garnishing, dressed with every kind
of condiment that can render it palatable ; and the recipieiit may thus
become a perfect encyclopiedia of learning, and yet, withal, the end

NATUUK OF EDUCATION.

?com-

ature

r the

•.A

11 the

",*>*

iVcry

, and

kind
thus

! end

may not be attained ; the mind, save for its own spontaneous, .spasmo-
dic working, may remain all the while in a state of dormancy and
insensibility. All depends on the way in which this knowledge is
imparted. The iustriiction is thus but a part, and a subordinate part,
too, of the means. The grand thing to be attended to, is the modus
operandi, or, the mod(i of its conveyance ; and that mode is uiupies-
tionably the best, which most extensively awakes and stimulates mind,
which lays most deeply the fouiKhitions of human character. What
signifies the most dainty and wholesome food if it is not diixested ami
assimilated ? And what, in like manner, avaihith the best instruction,
unless it be incorporated with the very core of our mental frame-work ?
And the only specific for all this is exkucise. You may range, if you
will, throughout creation ; you may scan the loftiest heights and
descend into the lowest depths ; you may devise this s(\hem(^ and that ;
but nowhere will you find an ex])edient for one moment to be com-
pared with exercise in developing and strengthening either the organs
of the body or the faculties of the mind. This is the ordinance of
heaven. How to ply such an agent constitutes the grand educational
problem.

And now, is it asked, which of these is the more important — the
end or the means? Un(pu'stionably, here as elsewhere, the eiul is of
infinitely greater importance than the means. And it is in connection
with this very i)oiiit, that much of the vaguciness and many of tlie
mistakes respecting educational matters originate. The means and
the end are confounded, or rather the means take the precedence of
the end, and are accounted the all in all of education. Three-fourths
even of the more enlightened in every jiopulation, seem to regard
instruction and education as synonymous terms. And hence, with
them, a great scholar or a learned man must of necessity be thoroughly
ediicate(l, and in every way (pialilied to teach the rising generation.
These defective and erroneous views prevail to an extent far beyond
what is generally imagined, and d<teply affect the whole inner processes
of the educational work. Surely there is here as in every other
de[)artnKnt a broad line of demarcation between the end and the
m(>ans — a line that ought to be drawn by every one who possesses
any pi-etensions to scholarship. And that end, who can scan its
magnitude, who can ade(piately realize its results? Verily, it has a
height and a depth, a l(;iigth and a breadth, which transcend our finite
comprehension. But because the end to be aimed at, in the education
of the young, is so exalted, do we, in conse<piencc, slight or uiuhn-value
the means ? Quite the reverse. As in all great undertakings, we

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estimate the means according to the end, so ought we to do in the
matter of education. The object the farmer lias in view in all his
operations, is the securing of a . adequate return for the expenditure of
his time, his r ources and energies; but he is persuaded that, in
ordinary circumstances, it would be nothing short of infatuation to
expect such a return without the utmost assiduity in fertilizing the
soil and sowing the seed. And so ought it to be with the educational
husbandman. ,

It is now, we trust, sufficiently ai)parent, what education really is
and what it is not. It is not the possession of mere mechanical
accom[»lishmeuts — nor the communication of mere knowledge, how-
ever valuable or useful — nor the cultivation of a certain part of the
child's nature merely, whether leading or subordinate — nor the
(|ualifying for a certain trade or profession — nor the eciuiimient for
the duties and trials of time merely ; it is all this, but it is far more,
even the cultivation of his whole nature in all its diversities and
subdivisions, physical, intellectual and moral — the accjuisition of all
substantial accomplishments founded upon solid principle — tht; fitting
and qualifying of the child for all the duties and trials 1)efore him —
his preparation and maturation for the felicities and joys of a higher
sphere of being — in one word, it is the putting of the recipient in a
position in which he shall be fully qualified to educate himself, both
here and hereafter.

lii

HECAPITULATK^X OF (HIAPTEK.
Many definitions have been given of the object or end of education.
These vary according to the views of their autlior, respecting the
subject-matter of education. If these views are narrow and circum-
scrilied, low and secular, so will be their definition. If they arc;
chn-ated and ('ommanding, commensurnte with the aspirations of onr
nature, reaching forward into a boundless etern''v, so will be the end
of education, in their estimate. We miijht here cite the definitions of
Luther, Pestaloz/i and Fcllenger ; or of Locke, Milton, Arnold ; or of
Wood, Gait, Stow, Morrison and Currie, but this were uni)rofitable.
The definition given covers, in our apprehension, the whole ground.
It consists of two parts ; first, the development, the harmonious growth
of all the parts of our complex nature, of all the organs of the body
and of all the powers and sensibilities of the mind. This evidently
implies on the part of the teacher, a knowledge of the material on
which he operates — a knowledge of the parts, in themselves, in their
relations, in their diversity of phase, periods or epochs of unfohling.

ill

NATURE OF EDUCATION.

How can he otherwise adapt his appliaiicos ? How can he ascertain
whether his work is prosi)erin<i ? How can he aim at its accomplish-
ment ? Bnt the intelligent teaclier has not only to regard the growth,
hut the right direction of these parts. This is unquestionably the
more important of the two. Of what avail is the enlargement of all
our powers or sensibilities, unless they are properly directed, uidess
they serve the purpose for whicli they were intended. The whole
educational process becomes then not only useless but positively
hurtful, like tli(! putting of a sword into the hand of a madman.
Would that parents and teachers and others but pondered, as they
ought, but habitually remembered this fact !

But these parts of our nature will neither grow themselves, nor
lake the right direction themselves. And here comes in the whole
aiiparatus of human instrumentality, of external appliances — em-
phatically the educational process. Now as the metal preserves its
lustre by being used, so does the physical and mental framework.
Exercise is not oidy the grand panacea against all rust, but the speciiic
for keeping all the mental armoury duly furbished. This is the
educator's task, how, by his varied appliances, he is to secure the co-
operation of his scholars, how he is to make them do the work. ' Hie
fabor, Hoc opus est.'

1^!

C HATTER III.

[ry are
of our
tlu' en«l
[ions of
; or of
^fitable.
fround.
Igrowth
le body
lidently
•/'// on
In their
foldiuij.

THE IMroUTAXCK ()!• EDUCATION.
Education rkgauijkk insthimkntally. — Its imtoutaxck aitauknt fkom

THE RKXKl'ITS IT COMKUS ON THE InDIVIDIAL, THE StATE, AND THE

Curunt. — T. Benefits to the Individiae : (', 1'eaces ai.e paists of
Complex Natiue in LErirriMATE position; h, Qiaeifies for Dities
OF Life; r, Opens i,p Soiiues of Gijatifuation ; '/, Ennoiiees and
nKiNU'iEs IIfmanity ; r, Ai<;ments Iviehnae Feehity. — IT. Benefits
TO State: Civie Government an Ohiunvnci; of Heaven. — Prospe-
RiTY OF State on three Elements: I, Intellioenie ; ti, Indlstky ;
3, MouALiTV. — 1, What Intelligence does '. a, Dissipates the evils
of Topflar Ignorance; /), Adds pRonrcTivENEss to Human Lahofr ;
r, Lenders ale resofrces of Nature surservient to Man. — 2, What
Industry does? (/, Develops and applies resources of Country ;
b, Leads to Economy ; c, Dries up sources of Pauperis.m ; <l, Gives
Overplus of Means. — .S, What Morality does ! n, ^Lu^spalNG of
Body Tolitic ; /), Lessens amount of Vice and Crime, and, hy con-
se(juk>'ce, tuislic l^xpenditure ; (', secures the dlessing of the
God of Nations. — Education necessary for ale this must develop,

INTEREST AND TRAIN. — TlIESE I'^LEMENTS MUST (O-EXIST AND CO-OPERaTE.

III. Benefits to Church : n, Education makes all suhskrvient to

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Tin: iMtoMOTiox OF TniTTii AND i{kjiiti,ot'svt:ss; (>, PKrn'KTiATKS Tin'Tii;
c, I'komotks iiuiiiKf^T i.NTEitKSTrt (H' Cii rucii ; ^/, Adds i,aiu;i;i,y to
Ciukch's i;skkui,ni;ss ; e, J^ducation hkst and si'icKriicsT way ok

EVANCJKLIZING THK NATIONS.

To (lelinciite fully all the benefits of the ((lunation sketched in the
precedini^ chapter, would recpiire more space than can Ix; allotted to
tlie whole subject. Whether regarded directly or indirectly, in their
individual or collective aspects, they ar(; at once unlimited in extent,
and eternal in duration. AVe apprehend, how(!ver, that our work
would be, in a manner incomplete, did we not at this stage present a
skeleton view of the importance of our subject, as the one paramount
to all others, demanding, at once, the profound study, the devoted
interest, and the loftiest j)anf'gyrie of every ])atriot and philanthropist.

Let us then consider, as brieliy as we can, the value of education in
its bearing uj)on the individual reci})ient, upon the state, or man
viewed as a nK^mber of the body politic, and, lastly, upon the church,
or man regarded as a spiritual being.

And here, it is scarcely necessary to premise, that in the discussion
of this su])j(ct, we look at education merely instrumentally. There
is p(!rhaps not one subject or pursuit, in which secondary agency
or human means can be rendered more availal)le, than in the educa-
tion of the young. Its influence is deep and wide-spread. It not
only stores up in the mind valuable knowledge, it cultivates and
develops its faculties and energies ; it nmulds and fashions character,
by operating on the iiniate principles of our being, and that at a time,
when they are most susceptible of impressions. In the educational
proc(!ss, we may, by a re})etition of the same act, establish a habit of
thinking, feeling and acting, we may lay an arrestment on the overt
wicked act, and thereby, considerably lessen the power of the prin-
ciple whence it proceeds ; and who does not perceive that all this w^ill
go far in the fashioning and forn g of character ? And yet, withal,
we cannot impart to the young that real love of duty, which springs
from a scnise of obligation to their Creator and Saviour-Gc 1. We
cannot so inllaence them as to give a right direction to their varied
endowments and attainments, that their services shall bring down
upon them the ap})robation of Heaven, or be accounted by the Search-
er of hearts as a contribution to His Glory. This is . ue sole, the
inalienable prerogative of Deity — the special work of the Holy Spirit.
Let, however, this divine agent go forth either along with or subse-
quent to the use of this instrumentality, and how transcend jut the
result ! Then will the benefits of well directed ap[)liance3 stand forth
in bold relief. Then will a sound and thorough education — an

:ii«

NATrRE OF KDUCATION.

AYe

varied
down
oarcli-
de, the
Spirit.
sid)se-
;[it the
1 forth
u — an

I'ducation whioli has knonlodge and training for its means, bo feh and
recognized and fidly disphiyed. And wlio or what instrume.itality has
the best title — the highest warrant to expect the forth-going of tins
divine agent ? Surely it must be that which most closely conijilies
with His own re(piirenients, as declared in that Book which He has
Himself indited. He and he alone h;is a (u)veiiant right to expect the
blessing of the most High who not oidy uses means, but the very uKians
He has Himself enjoined. And whnt is that means? Not instruction
merely, not example merely, but training; — "Train up a child."

Skction I.

POSSESSOR.

-The benefits of education to the individual

Education exerts a miijhty uijlnencc in placinr/ all the parts of our
compound nature in their legitimate jiosition, subordinatiny tJie lower
to the higher and harmonizing the tchole. Man is i)ossessod of an
animal, intellectual, emotional and moral nature. ICach of these parts,
in its own sphere, has important functions to discharge ; and it is,
only, in so far, as these component parts are rendered subservient the
one to the other, that man partakes of the ha])piness of which his
nature is capable. All these parts, in conse(pience of the catastrophe
that has befallen the species, are, as is well known, in a state of
disorganization and anarchy. The animal but too often co itrols and
domineers over the intellectual. The moral, intended to govern and
preside over all, is but too often their willing servant, — their abject
slave.

Education contributes largely to restore the proper equilibrium and
to render one and all of them competent for tlu' right discharge of
their respective functions. It imparts a sound knowledge of the
oflice performed by these parts, and brings home that knowledge with
the most powerful and persuasive motives and considerations. It does
more, it trains these parts to the practise of the duties belonging to
them. It inspires, too, with a relish for their legitimate application,
with a corresponding elevation of mind, and a determinate ])urpose to
hold on in the same course with unflinching steadfastness and perse-
verance ; and all this by reason of the force of habit. And, over and
above all this, it 2)rovides the means and methods by which the
possessor may carry into pra(!tical effect the knowledge he has acquired,
and the resolution he has formed. It is thus manif(!st, that education
does all that can be done, instrumentallv, for the recovery of the
equii)oise of our being, and for the exhibition of man in all the
symmetry and beauty of his nature.

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Education prrparcs and quaHJics man for a rUjht disrharge of the
various duties of life. Every individual of the luiniau laniily, whilst
he lius great and important general duties to diseharge, has also ;i
Hpecial work imposed upon him, a course to fullll, an orbit in which
to revolve, :i particular part to play in the great drama of life. The
Ahhighty Creator and Preserver hath not only assigned to each his
])lace, but lie hath given the endowments needed, as well as the
means recpiisite for their development and enlargement. And whyt
is education but this means, — the means of means ? And, when of
the right stam[>, it prepares and (pialities for a I)o[itting fiillilment of
the course prescribed, — of the duties imposed.

It imparts valuable knowledge, and though much of that knowledge
may not i)OSsess ajiy direct bearing on his particular calling or the
duties appertaining thereto, still it will prove of vast utility in some
one department or other, and that oftentimes and in circumstances
which he never anticipated. But another and greater benefit, arising
from his previous educational training, is the habit of attention, of
steady application, and of persevering industry, he has thereby
ac(juired, till which has only to be transferred to his own special
vocation to ensure success. The methods, too, he has pursued in all
liis scholarly attainments, are, in every respect, as applicable to his
present employment and will form powerful auxiliaries in its successful
prosecution.

Education opens up sources of highest gratification to the possessor.
There is no reward so immediate, direct and satisfying, as that
which attends mental effort. It matters not whether that effort is put
forth in the walks of litcature, or of science, or of any of the learned
professions ; or in feats of adroit diplomacy, of naval or military
strategy or of maphanical invention ; or whether it be by men of
exalted genius, or of the ordinary average standard of talent; — we
believe, generall}-, it will be found that, in very proportion to the
magnitude of the effort, will be the gloiy of the triumph achieved. In
all cases, wdiere the ojsthetic faculty is called forth, the gratification
experienced is of a still higher character. Here, as in architecture,
sculpture, painting and poetry, the mind soars into the loftiest regions.
Out of the facts, truths, or principles already stored up in the niind, by
the help of the observatioiuil or recollective faculty, new creations are
formed, and receive a living embodiment iu words and deeds. And
what inexhaustible fountains of delight are here opened up, not merely
to the imagination and taste of the fabricator, but to the thousands of
fellow beings, whose intellects are regaled aud whose tastes are

NATIKE OF EDUCATION.

a. In

Ificatioii
tecture,
[•egions.

Ions are
Ana
I merely
lands of
t,es are

ravished by tlic conteinphitioii of such works! But tlie noblest of all
mental triuin[)hs are those achieved within the domain of conscience.
"Wluu the' conflict between the moral faculty and the selfish or worldly
uidiiiation, is vehement and protracted, and the former obtains the
victory ; and, cspcicialiy, when tliat victory consists in the maintenauce
of a truth or princiiih', whicli, instead of bringing along with it gain
or sensible advantage, involves sacrifices or losses of innnense value,
then tliere is realized a serenity, an elevation and a l)lessedness, of
which none Init tliost^ who have been brought in contact with the
world of spirits can jiave any appreciation. Now, for all iliese feats
of mental prowess and genuine heroism, educati»ni, and education of
a high order, can alone fit and qualify. Natural endowments ari-
indispensably necessary, but tliese could nciver achieve anytliing of
pennancnt worth, of ImiHMnshabh! glory, without their possessor passing
tlu'oiigli a process of thorough educational training, from whatever
(piarter derived. In conlirination of all this, we recpiire not to
contrast the wandering savage with tlie polished savant, l)ut the
partially with the thoroughly educated. And how striking the
difference Ijoth as it respects their own (!ondition and that of their
fellow-creatures ! The former is at the mercy of every wind that
blows, restless as old ocean. Tlie latter is calm, and trancpiil and
blessed in all situations and circumstances. The one derives all his
happiness from his own selfish carnal indulgences, or from the society
of those like-minded ; the other rising into a V^ftier remon — and
altogether independent of his fellows, drinks copiously and with purest
satisfiiction, at the fountain-head of his own cultivated and accom-
plished mind.

Education ennobles and dignifies humanity in every sphere and walk
of life. The real glory of man is mind. It is that which not only
raises him above the lower animals but enables him to triumph over the
material parts of creation, and to render the very elements of nature
subservient to his happiness. It is mind that enables him to hold
converse with the great and good of every ago, and from their
accumulated stores to add increasingly and indefinitely to his own
stock of knowledge. It is mind that imparts the power of associating
with Divinity, and, through His works and ways, to enjoy a sweet
interchange of thought and sentiment. It is mind, too, that invests
him with the ability of displaying, in part at least, the grand character-
istic of the divine nature — diffusiveness, and thereby sharing in the
blessedness of His declarative glory. And when is man, by the
appliance of mind, enabled to accomplish these and similar results ?

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Wlien cdiicjitod ; and in viTy jiroportioii to tlio luiture and extent of
that education will hv. his moiital (fxploits. It i.s (Mlueation and
echication alone;, that imparts aitpctcnciy to mental application and
investigation. It is education an<l education alone, that supplies the
means reipiisite for such work, that trains to a familiarity with those
methods which give a right direction to all our intellectual and moral
pur.snits. If, then, mental exercise, in all its departments, eonstitute's
the real gh)ry of man, and if education alone (jualities him for such
exercise, snrely no farther argnraent is needed to reniler p!dj)al)le to
all the soundness of our position, that education eunohles and dignities
humanity.

Education largely auijwents the eternal felicifi/ and fflory nf its pos-
sessor. The only object that can really meet the desires and satisfy
the longings of the; renovated mind is Deity. And just as mind is
expanded and rendered capahle of taking a wider and more thorough
survey of that object, so will the individual rise to ix broader and
higher ])latform of serenity and bliss. It matters little as to the
means by which this expansion-process has been eifected; — whether in
the study of subjects, or iu the investigation of truths, or principle?,
more or less directly secidar, or more or less directly rtdigious,
provided the end be gained, namely, the enlargenent of the powers of
the mind, and their ea[)ability of fixing attention continuously on
any one subject, of tracing it out in all its properties, relations, and
results. It only recjuires the touch of an omnipotent hand to direct
these powers to the exjdoration of that theme iu which their most
healthful vigour and their highest bliss consist.

Now, it is substantially the same mind we carry with us into the
heavenly world, it is the same glorious object that will there enchain
our a(huiring contemplation, our most rapturous adoration. True,
Deity Incarnate, as the very concentration of the divine perfections,
the very master[)iece of the manifold wisdom of God, is there more
fully unveiled and the mind is more s])iritualized, entirely set free
from all its worldly and sensible entanglements. But both are
essentially the same ; and, consequently, the more mind is now
cultivated, the more capable of necessity of soaring in its contemitlatiou
into higher regions, of investigating, with more discriminating and
penetrating powers, the glories of the Invisible One, and, thereby,
of drinking in deeper draughts of the river of celestial bliss. And, if
this is the case at the ' mmencement of our heavenly career, it will go
on progressively throughout eternity, so that when millions and
millions of years have rolled round, the effects of the educational

XATUIIE OF EDUCATION.

IS, and
(livcct
most

into the
nicliuiu
True,
■ctions,
•e more
set free
)tli are
is now
iplatiou
no; and
hereby,
And, if
will go
us and
jational

liroress will he as palpahle as ever. Anil in what an t-lcvatcd anil
coinmaniling aspect does this place the whole snhject of the education
of the yoiini;, when that education einhraces all tin; powers and sensl-
hilities of their compound nature, and aims at nothinjj short of their
develojjuient and ri'tinenu'nf ? If the i)urely intellectual powers are
exercised, even when hroii^ht in contact with purely sectdar suhjects,
the exercise and streniifli wliiili thev have thus received shall he
rendered serviceable throujfliout eternity. All that is necessary is to
tnnisfer the mind from the study of one class of std)jects to that of
aiiotliiT; and evirv facultv of llie innnortal spirit that has l)een
unfoldeil in the educational pro(;ess,will thus stamj) an indelil)le impress
ui)nn the whole of its eternal destiny, and inconceivably augment its
felicity and glory.

Section II. — The benefits of education totue State.

In addition to the domestic circle, there are two grand assotnations
of the liunian family — the State and the Church. That these two
associations are of divine ordination, and that they are in every way
calculated, as they are designed, to further man's best interests, are
points all but universally admitted. IMuch, however, of the good
iijteniled to be ellected by these associations, depends on the character
whii'h they respectively sustain. And we know not an instrumentality
so well fitted to elevate and enhance that character, or to render these
associations really serviceable to the end in view, as the diffusion of a
sound system of education throughout every community. If, without
cihii-ation, man is a savage — a slave to his appetites and passions —
wliat nuist the wState, in similar circumstances, be but an army of
despots and revolnlionizers, which, if they do not utterly annihilate
one another, are torn to pieces by intestine feuds, diabolic conspiracies
and sellish intrigues. Again, just as education without religion, is
strijiped of its vitality, — its expansiveness, so religion witliout
education, is bereft of its intellectual prowess and strength ; and,
thereby, instrumentally, at least, unfitted for its high and glorious
mission. Hence, it is plainly, at once the duty and the interest of
both these associations, to exert themselves to the uttermost in the fur-
therance of a sound education — the State, that it provide the adequate
quantity, — and the Church, tha; it secure the right quality. However
much may have been done b_y both these associations during the last
halt ii'iitiiry, by the introduction of national and improved systems,
the encouragement of Normal schools, the more adequate remuneration
of teachers, the erection and equipment of school houses and the like ;

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yet \\<' frar, these eft'orts liave not liccii at nil proportionate to tlie
rnaffuitude of llie end in view, or the vastiiess of tli(^ interests
at Htake, or even of a character to seeure the ]ariC(^st amount of
|)ernianent i^ood. jMiieli ha.s no douht Iteen done l»y .some nations
for the amelioration of the sinking and sunken of tlieir i)opidation,
for the reelaiming and restonni; of the vicious and rriniinal hy the
estahlishmont of Iii(histrlal, Reformatorv, and IJa-'ucd Scliools ; hut
alas, how little has l)een done for the [U'evention of crinu' ttf any
description hy the diirusion of an eidi<^ht(.'ned, moral and religious
education! IMucli, too, lias heen don(! hy thi' diirerent hranches ofthc^
Christian Church for the education of tho young in conncvtiou with
the spniad of deiiominationalisni ; hut, alas, how little has heen done
on the gi jund of high-toned henevoleuce, of disintisrested Christian
philanthropy, irrespective altogether of ci-eeds or parties ! And all
this because of narrow, cinunnscrihed views of the beneficial results of
i'(lucatioii, both in reference to the cliundi, at large, and to the various
denominations, in particular. And, withal, there is still a grievous
ignorance and indeliniteness of view, .'is to the respecti\e functions of
Church and '>tate in the matter of national e(lucation, — how they
might and ought to co-operate in its promotion, with the greatest
mutual advantage, without any interference with each other's appro-
propriatc jurisdiction. This last point, howi;ver, we must defer, till
we c(jme to that part of our course which treats of the exterior of
education. AVe shall, now, briefly glance at the benefits of education,
first, in reference to the State, and, then, to the Church. The subject
is vast and interesting. We can only look at a few of its more salient
points, and these, without attempting anything in the shape of
lengthened illustration.

T/ic (x'lU'Jifs of R Ik cation to the State. And here a (piestion meets
us at the outset, — AVhat constitutes the real pros[)erity or haiipiuess
of any district, or community, or Province, or State? To this
(piestion we, unhesitatingly, reply, — f/ie in fell /'(/en re, the ivdnsfnj and
mofdiiti/ of its people. There may be boundless material resources,
all, in short, that can contribute to wealth, independence, or external
comfort ; but if these three constituent elements are awaiiting, or if
they exist only to a limited extent, or any one of them to the all but
entire exclusion of the other, or, what is still worse, if the opposite
vices prevail, that people is poor indeed, destitute of everything in
which true social happiness consists.

But let us briefly glance at each of these constituents in their
bearing on a nation's prosperity ; and first as to Intcllijcnce.

,1>

iij

N.VTinp: OF KDUCATION.

111 inocts
ipliiness
rr.) lliis
\tr>) (t)id
Isourccs,
xtevnal
iiii'. or if
all but
jiposite
thing ill

tlieir

.'>j

Iiitelh'(/nirc (h'sprh the f/luniu of j>i)piil(ir >'f/ni>ra)>ce, n'if/i all fhf
fi'ils and miseries f//(it follow in I'fs trani. On these evils wo liavo no
'••teiitiori to expatiate. AVe iiiii^'ht ciilarite on those superstitions
noiio. ' •'• linf; extraordinary natural ithenoniena, asoribinij to
(lir(;ct and sjieeial supcjrnatiiral ageney, what can he very easily
proved to proceed from the onlinary eourse of nature; such, for
»'xaini»le, as an eclijise of tin; moon or siui, eomets with their hlaziiitf
tails, aurora- horeales, shooting stars, fiery inetcfors, lunar rainbows,
the igiies fatiii which hover above moist and fenny jdaces in th(5 niglit
time, and other ;itmospherioal appcaranecs. Wi' might refer, too, to
the practise of judicial astrology- -a practise arising from the belief*
that the character and fates of men are dependent on the various
aspects of the stars and ofinjunctions of the planets ; or to the plaintive
note of the mourning dove, tin; ticking noise of the; little insect, called
the death-watch, the howlintr of a do<i in the ninht, tin; breakinj; of a
looking-glass; — all which, with many other equally harmless occur-
rences, luive been rcgarcled with apprehensions of terror, as unfailing
signs of impending disasters or of approaching death. 7\gain, wo might
refer to the superstitious fears connected with the setting out on a jour-
ney, entering on a new work of any kind, beginning to plant or plow,
or commenciiii; a vovaije on a Friday ; or to the unfounded and ridicu-
lous opinions entertained regarding the age of the moon, the killing
of swine, the sowing of seed, the felling of trees, &c., during its
<lecline. We might easily go a step farther, and point out the natural
etfects of these superstitions, not merely spreading a blighting and
scorching influence over the mind of their victims, habituating them
to false princiiiles and erroneous processes of reasoning, em-haining
the understanding and unfitting it for the aj)i)reciatioii of magnanimous
and generous sentiments, but leading invariably to the j)er[)etration of
<leeds of iiijiisti<!e and fanaticism, of cnudty and bloodshed. These
are not mere conjectural statements, they have been substantiated by
the whole past history of the species, and are verified and illustrated
by the condition and character of nations and peoples at the present
moment.

And need we say, that nought but a sound and an enlightened
system of education, will dissipate these and similar evils. Let the
mind be directed to the study of the phenomena and laws of the
material universe, as these have been unfolded and settled* in the
various walks of natural philosophy and science, during the last three
( eiituries, by such men as Newton and Davy, Dick and Lardner, and
these erroneous and superstitious notions, with all their fanatical and

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barbarous consequences, will 1)e speedily and thoroughly eradicated.
Let the knowledge of the uuit'orniity of nature's operations and the
regularity of her laws, be, generally, diffused among a people ; and
not only will confidence be inspired amid phenomena that may appear
exceptional, but the most exalted conceptions of the perfections of
the Almighty and benevolent Creator and Preserver, will obtain and

reign.

liut not only will intelliyence, nni\'(>rsally diffused, thus indirectly
promote national prosperity, it will efT'ect far greater direct results ;
and this briii<j;s us to our second remark re"ardin}j this national
blessing.

lliat it largely enhances the pi'ochfctiveness of human lahour through-
out all ranks of the community. Every reflective mind can readily
perceive the radical difference between mere brute force, and physical
strength, directed by intelligence and skill. lie sees this in his
daily, hourly experience. A yoke of oxen will do more work at
ploughing in one day than forty men can ; yet the oxen may be had
at r>0 cents, while each man can earn a dollar. Physical exertion, in
this case, combined with ordinary intelligence and skill, is eighty times
more valuable than the same amount of brute force. As man's in-
telligence increases, so does his labour become more valuable. A
small couipensation is the reward of mere physical power, while skill,
combined with a moderate amount of strength, commands higli wages.
The labour of an ignorant man is scarcely more valuable than the
same amount of brute force, but the services of an intelligent person
are a hundred fold more productive. Increase the practical and
available education of the labourer, and you enable him to do more
work and better, too, than his less informed associate.

The facts brought forward by Horace Mann go incontestibly to
prove — other things being ecpial — that those who have been blessed
with a good common school education, rise to a higher point in the
character of the labour performed, and also, in the rate of Avages
received. And, hence, prove incontestibly, that education is not only
a moral renovator and a multi[)lier of intellectual power ; but that it
is the most prolilic parent of material riches. It has a rigl>t, there-
fore, not only to be included in the grand inventory of a nation's
resources, but to he placed at the very head of that inventory. It is
not only, the most honest and honorable, but the surest means of
amassing pro}>erty.

But it is not in manufacture alone that intelligence is fraught with
so many blessings, it is equally signalized in the pursuits of Agricul-

NATURE OF EDUCATIOX.

[)t only
Itliat it
thcre-
latiou's
It is
Luis of

It with
iricul-

(itre. Til this depailmeut of industry, we are brought constantly into
contact with tlie forces of nature. As farmers, wo are entirely
(lei>en(lent upon them for our pecuniary returns, and the profits -.f our
investments ; and hence the necessity of knowing what these f(>rces
are, and under what circumstrnces they will o[)erate most ellieieiitly,
and, most bountifully, reward our original outlay of money and of
time. Again, the Province yields a great variety of Agricultural
productions ; and this brings into requisition all the chemical and
experimental knowh^lge which pertains to the rotation of crops and
the enrichment of soils. If rotation be disregarded, the repeated
demands on the same soil to ])roduce the same crop, will exhaust it of
the elements on which that particular crop will best thrive. If the
chemical ingredients and affinities of tin; soil are not und(>rstood, an
attempt may be made to reinforce by substances, with which it is
already surcharged, instead of renovating it with those of which it has
been exhausted by previous crops. But for these arrangements and
adaptations, knowledge is the grand desideratum ; and the addition of
a new fact to a farmer's mind, will often increase the amount of his
harvests more than the addition of acres to his estate.

The connection between intelligence and the useful arts is not less
close and indissoluble. For the successful prosecution of the manu-
facturing and. mechanical arts, if not for their very existence, there
must be not only the exactness of science but skill in its application,
either in the constructing of mr.chinery, or in the transforming of raw
■materials into finished fabrics. This ability to make exact and skilful
applications of science to an unlimited variety of materials, and,
es[)ecially, to the subtle and most en<,'rgetic ag(!iicies of nature, is one
of the latest attainments of the human mind. This era has but just
commenced, and already the abundance, — and what is of far greater
importance, — the universality of the personal, domestic and social
comforts it has created, constitute the most important events in the
history of modern civilization.

15ul, farther still. Intelligence renders all the forces of nature
suhservient to the promotion of mans truest interests. Whatever
may have been effected by wind, water and fire, far greater achieve-
ments have been made within the last fifty years by the agency of
steam and electricity — their application to science, manufacture and
machinery, and to all the pursuits and emi)loyraents of life. Thousands
of volumes could not delineate the triumphs of science during the last
forty or fifty years, or tell the effects of these triumphs upon the
whole social economy, upon the inteflectual and moral well-behig of

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the human species. And yet these are destined to accomplisli far
more transcendent results, as tlieir application progresses and becomes
more and more widely diifused.

And need we add to all this, that intelUgence elevates and 7-eJjnes
the whole tastes and sensibilities of a community or nation. Let it
jjy'evail to any extent among a people, and in very proportion will
tliey cease to derive gratification from mere corporal pleasures, from
mere sensual delights. All their pastimes, and amusements, and
recreations, would then spring from a loftier source and be directed to
a higher and nobler aim. They would participate hu'gely of the
intellectual and moral element, and by consequence contribute to for
purer and more permanent enjoyment.

Such are a few of the more prominent results of the general
diffusion of iutcUigence throughout a community. And how is such a
state of things to be brought about, how are tlie masses to be leavened
W'ith this all essential salt, with this vital element? In no other way,
we positively aiRrm, than by a sound system of education practically
and universally carried out. Intellifjence consists of two things —
knowledge and the culture of the intellectual foculties ; and these can
only be secured by education. Without instruction or teaching, little
or no knowledge can be acquired ; and, without education, there can
be no cidtivation of the mind. And thus it must appear patent to alli,
that there can be no such thing as real national intcl/if/ence Avithout
universal education, and that of the highest and most ellieient
character.

The second constituent of a nation's prosperity and welfare is
Industry. We have dwelt the longer on the attribute of i.felfiyence,
not merely because it lies at the foundation of a nation's advance-
ment, but because it comes moi-e directly Avithin the range and control
of the educational process 13ut however essential it may be as tlie
basis of the wliole superstructure, it is not in itself enough ; and those
who imagine, that Avhen education has gone thus far, it can go no
farther, or that no more can be expected from it, labour vnider a
grievous misapprehension. Intelligence of itself Avill never make a
nation prosperous and happy. IIoAV often do Ave see individuals
possessjd of no ordinary amount of intelliyence, and yet that intelli-
gence, in a ^'reat measm-e, uiq)roductive of any decided beneficial
results ; and that simply because its out-goings, or the efforts it puts
forth, are purely spasmodic in their character, made up of fits and
starts; or hoAvever sound or Avell-directed, it lacks continuous diligence,
steady, habitual api)liciition, unfaltering perseverance. Something

NATURE OP EDUCATION".

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li'ueticial

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fits and

lilij^encc,

iniethiug

uioiT, therefore, is necessary to constitute a nation's prosperity, and
that is — Industry.

Industry, as is well known, is the opposite of sloth and indolence.
It just means regular, assiduous and habitually steady applicaiion to
business, or study, or to any employment or pursuit. AVhen in
exercise, and associated with the attiibute we have already discussed,
it is souiethlng more than a mechanical process, a mere perfunctory
ai)|)lication of brute force. It consists of a steady, patient, persevering
following out of the business of our calliuu, with a constant aim at
ini[)rovemcnt and advancement, arising from a growing ac(piaintance
with tlio princijjle involved, with the theory <jr philosophy of the art.
JaI such a habit and spirit pervade a whole community, a whole
Province', a nation ; and marvellous will be the results on the whole
of their social and economic welfare.

It will not only conduct to a thorough knowledge of the resovrces
und capabilities of the country, both materially and mentally, but
io their development, tlieir leyiiimate and appropriate direction. Jt
will convert the bleakest, the dreariest, and the most inhospitable
desert into a garden, the most rugged rock into a busy mart of
tralRc, — and the briny wave, that laves and lashes the shores, into
a highway for the export and import of merchandise. Those very
obstructions, so formidable and apparently insurmountable to the
wavering and unstable, seem but to stimulate energy, and to call
forth more vigorous and determined effort, the victory won in t)nt!
case but rendering them the more valiant and confident regarding the
next ; nay, and more than all, these very difficulties but furnishing
greater facilities for every succeeding triumph. With every new
•'ifort put forth, their inventive powers are whetted. Men resort to
new methods, tiy new tools, or make changes on the old ones, until,
by a succession of inventions, they are competent to perform the same
work with one half the amount of physical toil. The most abundant
illustrations of the truth of these observations might easily be
lurnished. It is not much more than fifty years since Scotland was
regarded as the most inhospitable of climates, and its soil as incapable
of nnprovenient for agricultural purposes. And what is its condition
now ? It stands in the very foremost rank in agricultural advancement
and produces a larger ipiantity of bread-stuffs, in proportion to its
extent, than any other country on the face of the earth. Its farmers
are the most enlightened and most independent anywhere to be found,
and its resourc(>s are multiplying at an immensely rapid ratio. And
whence all this ? It is the product of the industry, the plodding, the

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patient, tlio persovering industry and skill of its people. It is tlio
fortligoiiigs of nil energy rendered all the more indomitable Vty reason
of the very diflieulties encountered. It is the ai)propriate reward of
the application of science, and skill, and j)erseverance to the cultivation
of the soil. Again, need we bring forward, as another witness, the
State of IMassachusetts. Where was there a territory on the whole
of this continent more unjjromising or uninviting than the one in
question, when the Pilgrim Fathers landed on its shores ? And
now its fields are capable of j)roducing and bringing to highest
perfection every sort of grain, and fruit, and stock, — its merchants
are the most enterprising and patriotic in the world, — its mechanics
and artizans, the most ingenious, and respectable and independent.
And more than all this, where is the nation upon earth, that has been
more successful than the New England States in the invention of
machinery, of labour-saving implements, in all manufacturing, agri-
cultural, and mechanical em[)loyments. And to what is all this • be
traced, but to the industrial habits of the people, founded upon, and
proceeding from sound, and practical, and well-balanced, generally
diffused intelligence.

Industry also directly conducts to economy and the possession of
%corldly substance. It is of little service to an individual to be in
possession of means, or in a position to accumulate wealth, unless he
has acquired the art of discreetly using it, of exercising a wholesome
economy, not in few but in all things. And who is the person most
likely to manifest this character and to manifest it most extensively,
who will most naturally husband the means he has laid up in store,
who but the man who, from hard-earned experience, realizes its value,
even the man of industrious habits ? Spendthrifts are no doubt
found in every walk and sphere of life, in all situations and circum-
stances, but these arc the exceptions. Generally speaking, whenever
a man toils hard in his calling, he is the most likely ])erson to set a
right value on his honestly won gain, to watch over it with care, and
to make a wise and legitimate disposal of it.

Again, he who, by ordinary frugality, manages to live within his
income, and to lay out a small ctqntal at interest, is just the very
person who will display the greatest providence and carefulness, in
eking out the same by an annual addition. The very fact that he
possesses a small amount of means at his service, inspires him with a
feeling of comfortable independence, and stimuLitcs him to greater
diligence and industry in adding to his stock. Iws notions of what
constitutes a decent and respectable competency, grow apace and
expand into larger volume ; and these are constantly fed and fostered.

Ill at lie
with a
Ixrciiter
what
re and
Is to red.

NATURE OP EDUCATION.

bv his wants and desires hecoming more numerous, as well as more
inii)erious in their demands. What was considered but u few years
bctbre a comfort and an indulgence, would not now meet and far less
satisfy his cravings ; and so he is necessitated, from the very law of
his being, to redouble his diligence and multiply, with an ever
increasing ratio, his industry and perseverance.

And let such views and feelings be generally diffused throughout a
community, and the effects will soon be apparent in their manly
in(lei)endence, increasing comfort, advancing civilization and reline-
ment ; and still more, in the abundant and substantial provision and
accumulation of the means requisite, to feed and extend them. And
all this, again, will operate most beneficially on their onward strides
in intellectual improvement, refined taste, and social elevation. But
on these and similar topics we cannot enlarge.

It is more to our puri)ose that we briefly advert to the grand result
of this economizing and self-provident spirit on a nation's jmtiperism.
It will infallibly dry up the sources thereof — or, according to the
expressive language of Sir J. Kaye Shuttleworth — "it will more
effectually than anything else eradicate its germs." Though it is
evidently the decree of heaven that the poor shall never cease out of
the land — a decree which the Almighty will make good by the
dispensations of his Providence, — still there is an inmiense difference
between such poor and those who are in that condition, because of
their own indolence and imi)rovidence, their own intemperance and
vice. And wdio does not know that three fourths of the pauperism of
any country is traceable to one or other of these sources, drinking up,
in too many instances, a nation's natural and acquired resources ; and
theicby rendering it, in a great measui'e, unfit for the fulfilment of the
higli errand for which the body politic was constituted. In England,
for example, the sum expended in the support of [)auperisni is all l)ut
incredible, averaging anniially, for the hvst ten years, five millions of
pomids sterling. Properties in some cases have been so overbui-deued
and oppressed, that they have been literally abandoned and consigned
to the support of the poor within tlunr bounds. This state of things
would be in a great measure obviated by the prevalence of the
industrious habits, to which we have just adverted. In very i)ropor-
tion to the extent to which industry bears sway in any land, will be
the extirpation of pauperism ; and who that knows anything of the
mighty incubus, which such a state of things imposes upon the vital
energies of any country, would not long, and pray and labour for its
unreserved removal! The effects of all this upon communities or

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nations, partially or wliolly liberated, wouM be signal indeed. It
would not only vastly lessen the weight of the jmblic expenditure,
and thereby diffuse a S})irit of contentment, of hi<^h toned patriotism,
and of genuine conservatism, throughout all ranks and degrees ; but
it would enable them to devote their resources to the improvement or
hcneft of their fellow-creatures in other lands; and, thereby, add to
the lustre, and increase the usefulness of the body politic.

Such are a fi!W of the more palpable and direct results of the
second virtue in our list, — and, surely, every reflective mind must
perceive, that nothing but a universal and enlightened system of
education, will either give birth to, or cause such a virtue to bloom,
and flourish, and fructify. Let the education be of the right sort, —
let it attract and interest the minds of the rising generation ; let it
train to habits of steady and persevering industry, not by the force of
sheer necessity, or of rigid discipline, but of a self-reliant spirit — a
spirit that lives and breathes and expands in an atmos})here of
conscious proprietorshi}) ; let it move all the inner sympathies and
affections of their nobler being, and they have but to transfer the
habits of self-dependence they have acquired to the avocations and
pursuits of life ; and, then, will their education occupy its right
position, preparing and (jualifying them for the active duties and
difriculties of their future career — affecting, and affecting most deeply,
all their modes of thinking, and feeling, and acting.

We come now to the last element in a nation's prosi:)erity-:^viz..
Public Morcdity. By Public Morality, we mean the absence — the
comparative absence, of all the more flagrant and enormous acts of
wickedness, of all public, notorious vices and crimes. We say, com-
parative, beicause so long as man continues in his present condition
of imperfection and sin, will his conduct be characterized by occa-
sional outbursts of wickedness, and even the general current of morals
will ebb and flow.

But in the state of things we are now contemplating, there will not
only be the negative but the positive, the presence of all personal,
social, and public virtues. These — such as contentment with our own
condition and circumstances, temperance, moderation, sobriety,
chastity, integrity, courteousftess, generosity, universal benevolence
and beneficence, downright honesty and truthfulness, subjection to
parents, subordination to our superiors and to all lawfully constituted
authorities, predominate and reign. And those virtues must be
founded upon some high and infallible sWuidard, to which all must be
prepared to come, and before which all must bow. In other words,

■I

NATURE OF EDUCATION.

ileod. It
JCiKlituri',
iitriotisiu,
rees ; but
mnent or

add t<

ts of the
iiid must
iystem of
to bloom,
it sort, —
>n ; let it
3 force of
spirit — a
sphere of
,thies and
nsfer the
tioiis and
its right
[uties and
st deeply,

ty-T^vi/..
nee — the
s acts of
say, com-
condition
by occa-
|of morals

will not
Ipersonal.

our own
[sobriety,
levolence
ktion to
jistituted
inust be
Imust be
worda,

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thev must have a reference to God — to His character, as our authority,
and to ITis law, us our standard. Ilcnvcver much we may res})ect a
mere outward morality — a morality founded on the worldly ])rinciples
of honour or self-interest or fear of future punishment, still this, after
all, is but a miserable sul)stitute for the real and the genuine,
and only maintains its existence on account of the particles of
preserving salt, that may be scattered v.p and down the body politic.
It is morality, founded on and flowing from true religion, for which we
contend. It is this and this alone, which will stand lirm and unshaken,
even when subjected to the most fiery ordeal, to the most tremendous
sJiock. It is this and this aloiie, Avhich will render it the vehicle of
(conveying to the body ]:)olitic tliroughout all its members the most
beneficial influence — the most, satisfying and lasting happiness. And
are we asked to name a touchstone by which a coiiuiiunity or nati(jii
may he tested in reference to the genuineness or spuriousness of its
morality 1 We would unhesitatingly reply, its observance of the
Sabbatic or hebdomadal rest, that jeW' \ which, like the keystone in the
arch, supports the whole fabric of the first and second table of the
law, the rearward of the former and the vanguard of the latter. As
this institute is respected, its privileges prized, its rites observed, so
have we a [)ulse by which the real coiulition of a nation's morality —
may be ascertained.

Let morality, founded upon such :i principle, generally bear sway
in any community or nation, and how stupendous and wide-spreading
the results ! It will evince itself to be at once the mainsjjriiig and
regulator of the body politic It Avill not only give a right direction
to every other department of the social ftxbric, but preserve the whole
machine in good working order, and diffuse a health/ul and an
invigorating influcjuce over all its parts.

But to be somewhat more particular. The prevalence of such a
morality will lessen, to a vast extent, the amount of vice and crime in
any country. In very proportion as the former bears sway, so wHl
the latter in every shape and form, as ashamed, hide its face. And
this, again, will bring about an immense reduction in the public
expenditure. There is not, perhaps, at this moment, a civilized
Christian nation upon earth, a third of whose income is not swallowed
up in the punishment of crime, or in attempts to relieve the distresses
and the wants of the destitute and desolate. In Dr. Guthrie's Plea
for Eagged Schools, it is stated that, in 1845, Scotland expended for
criminal prosecutions, maintenance of criminals, not less a sum than
£150,045 — and this altogether independent of Judges' salaries,

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Do[mty A<lvoc:ito><, Crown agents, &c. And If tliis is tlio case with
Scotlaml, generally admitted to be the most moral, what must it be in
otlier countries? It has been computed that every criminal, on an
average, costs tlie country for his maint(inance, not less than £400, or,
about £.0') per annum. And what an enormous sura must thus bo
expended, when it is considered that, in England alone, there were
not less than 15,507 juvenile offenders, — exclusive altogether of the
seared veterans in crime, connuitted to jail in one biief year. And
what an immense saving would, then, be etlected on a nation's
expenditure by the diffusion of a sound inoniIifi/9 It may be
imagined by some that this is taking very low groun(L It may seem
^=0 when viewed in itself, but it is far otherwise, when regarded as a
means leading to great and important ends, even the erection of those
defences, munitions and fortifications, which, if they do not inspire
terror, will at least command the respect and confidence of surrounding
nations, and invest with the awe-striking motto : — " Nemo me Impitne
Incesset." But jiational greatness will not only insjtire others with
respect and confich^nce, it will, if rightfully used, prove a powerful
instrument in thp denouncing of tyrani>y and despotism of every shape
and d(>gree, — in the relieving of llu> distressed and down-trodden,
everywhere. Take Britain as an exemplitication. Defective as she
is in })ublic virtue, considering her external privileges, yet she stands
forth in peerless grandeur, sitting as a queen among the nations,
upholding the great principles of international law, frowning down
upon and putting an arrestment on deeds of national cruelty, bar-
barism and persecution, wherever these i.iay manifest themselves.
Never could she achieve such exjdoits, save by the vastness of her
resources, the prowess of her arms, the magnanimity and moral
lieroism of her "eneral administration.

But the morality of which we speak, will not only promote the
temporal glory of nations, it will largely enhance their whole social,
intellectual, and aesthetic welfare. All ranks and degrees of men
amongst them, will not only lay aside their hate, malice, and revenge ;
but they will feel themselves connected together by bonds of truest
friend.'hip, of christian loyal attachment, striving to do good to one
another, as they have opi^ortunity. They will give honour to whom
honour is due, — treating their superitn's with respect and esteem;
their equals, with courteousness and large-hearted generosity ; their
inferiors, like l)rethren, relieving them in their distresses, and rejoicing
with them in their prosperity.

But this morality Avill exert a still more beneficial influence on the

NATtUB OF KDUCATION.

;aso with
t it bo ill
:il, on iui
£400, or,
, thus bo
ere were
ler of tlio
ar. And
nation's
may be
may seem
irtled as a
n of those
ot inspire
rrounding
le imjmne
hers with
, powerful
i-ery shape
n-trodden,
ive as she
ishe stands
e nations,
linj^ down
Lclty, bar-
iieinselves.
,(^ss of her
aid moral

l)mote the
iole social,
|s of men

revenge ;

of truest

jd to one

I to whom

esteem ;

|it.y ; their

rejoicing

Ice on the

nalmn-'il intellect. It requires no <,frcat penetration, or extent of
observation to perceive the expanding power of tlie moral faculty
over the natural intellect; how it guides and directs in all its inves-
tigations and en(iuiries, turning all into a profitable channel ; how it
spreads life, and vigour, and healthfulness throughoiit all its faculties,
cultivating, strength(Miing, and investing witli ten-fold capabilities;
how it summons into recpiisitioii an<l into noblest exercise, the higher
energies of our being, which would otherwise have lain, in all pro-
bal>ility, in a state of dormancy and inactivity.

The Ksthetic powers will also be summoned into liveliest exercise.
Architecture, painting, sculpture, and, indeed, all the tine arts, all
those accomplishments and pursuits indicative of a high degree of
civilization and refinement, will lie exhibited and shine forth with
resplendent lustre. Instead of tliose low, grovelling, and animal
gratifications, the inseparable attendants of vulgar and debased nunds,
of low-toned morality^ the great masses of the people will 1k>, drinking
in draughts of happiness and joy from purer and more enduring
fountains. And the benefits which these powers and sensibilities
have derived from conscience, will be reciprocated. Just as they
increase in capacity and intensity, so will this vicegerent of divinity
within, become more; sensitive and authoritative. And thus will they
continue nuitually to atfect one another, not merely during the whole
period of their connection in time, but even in a higher and serener
sphere of being.

I5ut over and above fill these natural effects of this high-toned
viomh'ti/, there will descend upon that comnnniity aJid people, where
it prevails, the direct blessing of the Governor among the nations. It
Avill lead to a public recognition of ITim by wlu)m ' Kings reign and
Princes decree justice.' It will inspire with entire confidence in His
sustaining arm. And it is the law of heaven that the nation which
honours God, He will honour. He will impart to it lasting stability,
— the perpetuity and continued advancement of all its ins*'tutions
and immunities. And while kingdoms and em^pires have been swept
away with the besom of destruction, just because they lacked this very
element. He will cause it to shine forth with an ever increasincr
lustre, gathering from every victory fresher and more verdant laurels,
and difl>!sing, far and wide, all those virtues and excellencies, which
constitute the light, the life, and the joy of a nation.

And how is such a morah'fi/ to be attained and held fast, perpetu-

' .11

^-fl

ited, aiul extended. In

no other way that we know of than by a

sound, popular system of education. " If." says the distinguished Mr.

Ti:.vf fri-.i; s ikxi-book.

j .; '•■ 1

^>iiii)

Hill in hi.s work on National Kducation, "if you arranj^c the <mT»'rc!iit
nations of tlio ( aitli according to the state of education in tlicni, it
will 1)1! found that voii have alsf) arraiiiied them aecordiuii to their
wealth, their niuialily, and their general happiness.'

This connection — the connection hetween t!ie want of education
and crime, and tlu; poss(!flsion of education and mont/'fi/, — is not a
matter of sj»eculation or conjecture, it has 1h,m u proved and substan-
tiated hy statistical returns that camuvt ])v conti-overted. If wc
compare countries in which e(lucatiou is at a low chh with those
where it is toIeral)ly well attended to, we shall lind ahundaiit data for
the truthfulness of our po.sitioii. Take vSpain. for example, and
(•(unpare it with Kniiland, whicli contains pretty nearly the same
number of inhabitants, in the latter c(tiuitry, in one year, the munber
of convictions for nuirdcr was thirteen, and tlu innnber convicted of
womided, with intent to kill, was fourteen : whereas in the former, in
the same year, the lunnber of convictions for murder reached the
frightful heiiiht of I2-").'); in addition to which there were; 177-">
c^)nvictions on charges of maimiiiii', with intent to kill, and l()"2(>
persons were convicted oi' rol)bing, uuiler aggravated circumstances.
There cannot be a doubt that all this crime is the ofllspring of igno-
rance, of the want of education, — there being not more than 1 in '.W
of the population in the act of receiving this inestimable boon. In
further confirmation of the truth that education diminishes crime, take
the following' statistics "leaned from various oilicial documents
rt'specting prison-nuinagenu'Ut. According to returns to the IJritish
Parliament, the conunitnu'iits for crimes, in an average of nine years,
in proportion to the [(opulation, are as foHows : — In JManchester, the
most inlidel city in the nation. 1 in l-b»; in Londcni I in SOd; in all
Ireland I iu l()t)(>; ami in Scotland, celebrated for education and
religion, I in 2i)^H)\}. Sir Richard l'hili])s, SherilF of London, says
that on the memorial addi'e^sed to the sheriils by h")2 criminals in the
same institution, 2") only signed tlu>ir names in a fair hand, 2i) in an
illegible scrawl, and Idl, two-thirds of the entire number, were
marksmen, signing with a cross. The Ivev. Mr. Clay, Chaplain to
the House of Correction in Lancashire, reports that out of 112'.t
persons conunitted, r>ol could not read ; 22i) were barely capidjle of
readhig; .'58 only could read well; and only 8 or 1 in 141 coidd read
and write well. In the New York State Prisons, as examined a few
years ago, more than three-fourths of the convicts had either received
no education or a very imperfect one. Out of 842 at Sing Sing, 28!)
could not read nor write, and only 42 — less than I in 20 — had received

NATL'UK OF KDUCATION.

a'l

"'"'S^

a ijood. ('omnioii scliool ('(lucatioii. Tlir State of" roiiuccticiit (•{itit!iii\s
fi>\vcr iit'isoiis ill |iroi»(»rti()ii to tlit; whole popiilatioii, that were imaltle
to leail and write tliaii any other in tlie I'nion. And what <h)es the
Chaphiin of the State Prison declare? fliat out of I'.Xl persons, not one
was iiherally e(hieate(l, and that ont of every !<■•• prisoners only two
eoulil he fonnd who eoidd read and wi'ite and follow any rej^nhir
trad"'. In Kni.dand. the nuinher of jiiveniii' oH'.'iiders eontmitted in

one year w

as not less than l.^oOT; and in at. other 11.120. Of tiiose

one oidy had received a superior education: and of the whole 1 1,12('.
there were only IIMI who c(ndd read and wfii(( well; and since such
a smattcrint; of (>dueation as leaNcs a man unahle to reM<l with <'ase, is.
for all practical purposes, no hetter. in DH cases out of a 100, tli;in no
education whatever, out of 1 I . !20 juvenile deliiKpieiits there were
in fact ll.'22''> who may lie said not to have been e(lucated at all.
What a disifrace to the nation I Ivaixucd Schools meet, to a certain
extent, this clamant e\il. and furnish th(! hest cure for crime, the
clieapest. most hinnane. and holiot remedy. In Kdin1>uri,di. they
iiavi^ ]iut an end to stri'et mendicancy — for just as the school tilled,
the cells of tin' [irison emptied. In jSlT. when the oripnal IJair;.fed
School was opened, in Ivliidnir^h, the centesimal projiortion of
children under 1 1 years of a'^i^ in prison, was TjO. anil in IS;")!!, it was
1.2. 'J'he mnnhi-r of prisoiu'rs hetween l-I and I(! years of aiic, was
in IS is, ')')-2, in IHo'.) it was down to 1.'50. These statements jire
siitlicieiit to demonstrate the position, that education is ihr; ixratnl
iustrnnieiit in the production of a sound, hijj;li-toned niomlffi/. And
how ouiiht this to I'uhanee the sidjjeet of the education of the youin;'.
in the eyes of communities and nations, and lead to the adojilion of
every possible means for its eneournijement and support ? And that
not merely, because it is the nation's obliifation and honour, but its
hiifhest interest, its truest economy. And this education, that it may
be })roducti\e of such results, must be not only of a sotnidly intel-
lectual, but of a thoroughly moral character, that is, it must combine
trainini;- with instnictioii ; and all in conformity with the pn-eepts of
inspiration, exemplilied and enforced by the Great Teacher of
Nazareth. This — this is the orand instrumentality of heaven for the
preservation of a nation from corruption and dissolution, as weli as
for the upliftuig and elevation of the sinking and sunken. This —
this is pre-eminently fitted to raise a nation to true dignity and glory,
to the security and perpetuity of its institutions and iuuuunities.

Having now discussed the. lienetits of intelligence, industry and
morality to the state, singly, and having shown that e(Uication. and

i 1)1

■'vi

:;!'■-

:.i|

..Hi

'•I

["I'll"

.mllf

ifij il

;JG

TKACIIKU .S TKXT-I'.OOK.

the kiiitl of cfliiciition that ciin iiloiu: scnirc these three cuDstituents,
respeetivcly, we are in a position to tai\e a hrieC conjunct view of
the whoh'.

It has now heeii sliown that intelligence! dissipates the evils of popu-
lar i^ruoranee, adds largely to the productiveness of human lal)our, iu
manufacture, agriculture, and tlu^ useful arts, renders all the resources
tind forces of nature subservient to tlie interests of man, and elevates
and relines the tastes and seuslhllities of any conununity ; and that the
education necessary for inipartiiiif this intelliiifence must be sucli us
will exercise, and develop, all the or<iaus and ener<^ies of the recipi-
ents. Ay;ain, it has lioen shown that inihistry, consistlin^ as it does of
a steady, patient, perseverliii,' followiui;- out of our calllnuf, with a
constant aim at improvement, will con<luct not only to a thorough
knowlediie of the resources and capabilities of the country, but also to
their development and legitimate direction ; tliat it will directly lead
to economy and the possession of worldly sidistance ; that it will dry
up the sources of j)Muperism, and place at the nation's disposal a large
amount of overi)Ius means foi' the imifrovcment aiul benelit of others :
and that the education necessary for the production of thetie results is
such as nuist luteri'st the recipients, and thus train to habits of
diligence and ap[il:cation. And, again, it has been shown, that sound
christian morality, generally dlil'uscd, constitutes the mainspring and
regulator of the body politic ; that it must, of necessity, lessen the
amount of vice and crime, and, consequently, largely reduce, In another
way, th(; public expenditure ; yea, that this morality, in whatever
nation it obtains sway, must bring down thereon the blessing of the
'^"d of nations : and that the sort of education that will secure, and
end, and perpetuate this morality, must consist of something more
Jian religious or moral instruction, even that moral education whose
grand aim and object Is the formation of character.

And if such Is the influence of these recjnisites of a nation's pros-
perity, when viewed, sej)ar:Ut'ly, wliat must it be when they arc; all
united in one grand whole, when they act, a)id re-act, the one uj)ou
the other in the })roduction of the same conunon result ! We have
viewed them apart, in order that we might hold them up to the reader's
contemi)lation with the greater etFect. But in <jrder to serve the end
intended — a nation's prosperity, they must co-exist and co-operate in
closest combinatior, as so many links in one indissoluble chain.
Intelligence is a boon much to be desired, but lailess accompanied by
unwearied industry, it will be of comparatively little benelit, either to
the possessor or to his fellow-creatures ; it will remain as a dead

■i

' r

[■

1.,

li-M •

', diC

iili

i ■

NATtmi: or kditcatiox.

U'ttor. an cinjity s])('(Mil;itioii lioatiii^ in the ))rain. Imliistry, too. is
good. hul. if it is not inlliicncod by int<'lliii»'iiro. it is Imt a (Iciirt'o
raist'd aliovo hrntc^ force, it licconics univly a mechanical tliinij.
Iiitcllii^eiice and indnsti-y, when conihined and mntnidly operatinu
upon each other, an^ of vastly <;reaU'r ntility and force than when
they exist s<'parately ; and were man only a creature of time, with
his prosjK'Cts all hoiindetl hy tlw! present scene, tliey mi^ht snllice; hut
this is not the case : he jjossesses a nobler nature and a hiixher
f((."4iny. lie is a moral and immortal heing, and if his longings and
aspirations, as such, are not met, he cannot he satisfied ; he has not
found a bliss adecpiate to his capacity of enjoyment. Another attri-
bute must, therefore, be ad<led, and that is the .attribute of Chi-istiaii
morality, — the fly-whoel tliat must regulate, and control, and direct
tlu! whole of man's complicated m( 'hanism. Let. then, these three
elements be combined, let them be exhibited in all their intrinsic
worth, in all their relative and associated excellence; and civil govern-
ment will assume its true character, will siiine I'orlh in all its native
radiance, as a divine appointment, an institute; of heaven. 'I'hen will
man appear in all the dignity of his nature, as a gregarious, social
being, and share In all the joys and blessings theri^to belonging. Then
will man on earth form a type of the heaveidy liierarchy ; and all the
ranks and degi-ccs that obtain, will but minister to the gratificatioi. of
each, whilst it heightens the glory of the whole. True, a mighty
revolution must be effected upon human character, both personally
and relatively, ])efore such a state of things can be realized in its
perfection. 15ut in very proportion to the ai)proximatlon that is
made to it, will man arise to his true dignity as a social, intel-
lectual, moral, religious and inunortal being ; and drink into the
haj)pim'ss destinatcd for him in all these relations and prospects.
What patriot, or Christian philanthropist, or he.aven-born denizen,
would not long, and pray, and labour for the arrival even of the dawn
of such a day upon our sin-blighted, plague-smitten world! And, yet.
is not the appliance at hand, is not the machinery all equipped, is not
heaven looking down with earnest ex])ectancy? All is in readiness,
and In the attitude of waiting for the forthgoing of that instrumen-
tality destinated to change and renovate the nations. And what, we
ask, is that appliance but a popular and Christian education ? What
is that agency bnt man, all-impotent in himself, yet all-sufricient when
clad in the panojily provided. When, Oh ! when, will man awake to
a right sense of his present dignity .and future destiny ! O for the
birth-day of true patriotism, — the embodim» uf that philanthropy

!P^

)

I 'fl r

'^f'l

i i

TEACIIKU S Ti:XT-I!OOK.

which is ffod-Iikc in its oriifiu and mundtiiu' in its extent ! O for the
arrivtd of that time, when, in the riglit eihication of llie younjj, faith in
th(! divine testimony Nhall l)e in Yii>onnis exercise! 7V(tin up a child
it! the tnti/ he should (j». and when he is old he will not depart fr<>>n it!

Skctiox III. — Tin: i'.knk/ its of kditation ro tiik Ciirucu,

'V\m other urand association of the human family is ilie eceh'si-
astica' or man viewed as tlie member ol' a spiiitual society — the
Chn.^n.

Tlie seliool has often, and, with i^reat pro])riety, been (lesi«i-nated 'the
nursery of tlie Church.' It is so, because; of the knowk'd^e it imi)arts.
— the sj)irit it inspires, and the liabits it forms. That tlie school
effectuate these high and ennobling purposes, it must bi' ])ervaded and
leavened \vith the spirit of true religion, of geruine morality — a
I'eligion and morality that must i)e inwoven willi the mental sniicture
of the recipients and exhibited in actual lite. Education of this
character is of iui.spe'akable value to the Church : —

Jiecansc it renders all tlie discoveries of sriiuce, all Oie inventions
of the arts, and all the resources of nature subservient to the establish-
ment and riromotion of truth and righteoHsness. The; work of human
redemption, that work which the Church is commissioned to maintain
and pro[)agate in this world, is the greatest of all the works of Deity.
Those; attributes of His nature, which are singly displayed in other
objects and in other realms, meet here in one, full, concentrated
whole. Those, too, that apjiarently clash or seem to run counter to
one another, arc here all re(Mmciled, and harmonized, antl blended
together, none darkening or eclipsing the other, but each shedding
a brighter lustre upon all around. This world was (,'reated and
preserved as an arena for its manifestation and development, and, as
soon as that work shall have reached ils consummation, it shall lie
rolled up as a scroll and pass away from our vision, and a new
heaven and a new earth made its dwelling-place. Even now the;
earth is [(reserved from decay and (H)rruptioii (intirely because of the
'excellent' that are in it, and who are appropriately styled its .ireserv-
ing salt; just as the ten righteous men, if found, would have been to the
cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. If, therefore. Creation and Redeni})-
tion stand to one another in the relation of means and end, if every
object or event of the former miinsters to the advancement of the latter,
it is clearly our bounden duty and our highest interest to render all
subservient thereto, — everything in nature and providence, every-
thing that bears tlie impress of the divine architect, or of human

NATUltE OI KDUCATION.

urtifioe and skill. I'lit ula-s ! for the scliisluifss atitl worldly minded-
(loss of liumanitv. And this spirit noii<>lit but a Christian education
will supplant, and extirpate. Hy means of such an education, the plastic
tniuds of the youuif will l)e taui^ht to see and feel that they are not
their (nvn, but the property of the sovereign Lord of th(! Universe;
and that all tlmy are and all that they have, are but h'ut thcni as
Sicwai'ds, ■which they iwv, bound to restore, again, with usury : and not
only so, but they will be trained to part with this object and with that,
for increasing the usefidness or extending the boundaries of the
Ciiurch of the living God, — the pillar and ground of the truth. As
tlu y advance in years, this habit will grow with their growth and
strengthen with their strength ; and as their capabilities enlai"ge, so
will their hearts and hands. Whatever their study or employment,
they have b'arned to prosecute; the one; and the other, just that they
might have new tields of exploration and new triumphs of science to
<'onsecrate to the service of the Church, just that they might have
larger possessions, fresher and richer objects on which to levy a
tribute for some moral exjdoit, or the achievement of some heroic,
spiritual deed.

Rilnrafio)!. prrpcfunfes and extemh the vdnse of fnifh and rir/hteons-
iir.-is ill /he ('(trth. Every one ac(piainte<l with the lirst })rineinles of
Christianity, is aware of the provision made by its author for its
diffusion. He has given line u[)on line, ]ireeept ujion precept to Ills
followers, exhorting and encouraging them by every motive and
argument, to ply every energy and means for the disseniinatiou of the
truth. But He lias done more ; II(! lias so arranged that every one
who gives a cordial reception to its essential ])rinciples, is inspired
with an intense desire to impart these to others, is constrained by its
very nature and genius to undergo every toil and submit to every
^^acriticc f((r tli(( accomplishment of this glorious object. Every one,
in fact, who receives the word, becomes himself a living epistle. Thus
f.ir. man is retidered a jjartaker of the divine nature — he has become
godlike in his expansiveness and ditfitsiveness. But the founder of
Christia.iity has not less signally provi<lcd for its perjwtuation than
J'or its self-propagation. He has established a moral as well as a
natural relation between the parent and child, imi)osing upon the
i'oruH'r the most liolemn obligation to make known to the latter the
wonderful works of God : — '• That tlie generation to come might know
ihein, even the children which shotild be born, who should arise and
declare them to their children, that they might set their hope in God,
Jiid not forget the works of God but kei'u his commandments."

■:i / Ml

'' ,•

("!.«

i ^

i;;i.!i|ii#

ollll)

teacher's text liOOK.

This is not tlie place to dilate on the nature of the in.structiori
Christian parents are to impart to their otf'spriny, or the way in which
this is to be done. Siithce it here sini])ly to state, that the vast
majority of the exhortations contained in the lUble respecting the
upbringing of the young, whether general or specilic, are addressed to
parents, and not only so, but the clearest and most peremptory
injiuictions are given as to the method to be i)ursued. They are not
only to give wliolesome liible knowledge and to exemplify the power
of that knowledge in I'leir own walk, but to train them up in the way
they should go, to bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the
Lord, to command their children and their household al'ter them.

But parents, aftcn- their children reach a certain age, have neither
the time nor the capability of thus training their oflspriiig, and what
are they to do? Tliey cannot, in consistency with their responsibility,
allow them to ^.^ass their best, because their most improvable days, in
indolence and lethargy. This were to stultify all their past training,
all their domestic procedure, in coniH3ction with their offspring; it
were to do what they can to tarnish, if not entirely to blast their
brightest pros[>ects ; and what in those circumstances are tlujy to lo ?
They must just call in the aid of i)roxies in the capacity of scliool-
mastersi, and hand over to them, for so many hours a-day, their whole
education alike in things secular and sacred. They thus carry on the
education of their (children by delegation, the teachers enjoying the
sympathy, the counsel, and the co-operation of the parents. In tliis
way, is the cause of truth and righteousness hande<l down from
one generation to another, and, thereby, perpetuated in the earth. In
this view of their position, parents and teachers are both missionaries,
and that in the highest sense of the term. In this way, moreover, are
the ranks in the membcn-ship of the Church miiidy supplied and
extended. The indebtedness of the Church to educatiou is great
indeed.

Education constitutes one of the most power/id means in pritm()fin</
the best, the highest interests of the Church. There are tv/o wa\s by
which we may do good to our fellow-creatun^s, dependent on their
condition and circumstances. They may either be sinking or have
alivady sunk into the de^pths of every species of vice and inunorality ;
and we may, in the exercise of our benevolence, em()loy the best ami
most ap{)ropriate means to nndaim and rt^stoi-o them to the paths oi
truth and righteousness ; or they may be so juvenile as never to liave-
l)een exposed to snares a'.id temptations, or if they have, they have
hitherto been prevented from falling into them — from the commissioi'.

NATURE or KDUCATIOX.

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)n llicir

or lia\e

orality ;

■J

)est and

i^'i^

)atlis of

" "'^

to liave

'Y havi-

luissiot'.

of overt acts of wickedness. And we may use all legitimate means
for their being preserved in this condition. In the former case we
art; said to act on the curative or restorative system ; in the latter, on
the preventive. And the (luestiou may here be asked, which of these
two methods is the more commcndabh', which argui's the higher
exercise of ])liilanthropy ? Undoubtedly, we rei)]y, the hitter, and
that for reasons whi(!h we can merely specify. 1st. T<j act on the
preventive, presents u much more inviting field of philanthropy.
When we use means for the reclaiming of the vicious and protligate,
wo are necessarily brought into contact with their vices and miseries ;
whereas, in the other case, we have oidy, by the appliance of suitable
motives, to encourage and stimulate the objects of our l)enevolence to
the practise of all that is lovely and of good report. 2nd. It holds out
a more promising prospect of success to our instrumentality. It is a
hard and diiricuit task to cure the a^ed veteran in sin. Though it
may be comparatively easy to convince such of the evils of a wicked
course, yet the power of vicious habit is overwhelming, domineering.
Our instrumentality is, by consetiuenco, more likely to be etf'ectual,
where evil habits are yet unformed. 3rd. It involves a higher and
nobler exorcise of faith. In exhibiting sound doctrinal views or
inculcating jylain, practical, moral lessons, there is nought to stimulate
and encourage but the exercise of a simple faith in the divine
promises ; in the reclaiming of the vicious and the [jrofano, there must
be the palpable manifestation to our senses of their forsaking the evil
and cleaving to the good, — and hence faith is '>ot, naturally, so much
demanded. -Ith. It receives a higher meed of divine approbation.
Evil in every shape is an abomination in the sight of the inlinitely
Holy One. Wluin, therefore, we use our instrumentality in presenting
our fellow-creatures from falling into sin, we must Ixj regarded by the
Ahnighty with greater complacency, than in attempting to bring them
back from the paths uf the destroyer, and must occupy a higher
vantage ground in securing that blessing which alone gives success.

Now what is the whole educational course, when sound, and
thorough, and having resi)eet throughout to tin; formation of character,
by the cultivation of the [diysical, intellectual and moral miture of the
young; — what is the whole character of such a course but one
of prevention, and that, at the time, when the mind is most plastic
and most susceptible of lasting impressions ? This is the period, too.
when good habits are most easily formed, iu)t merely those of
diligence and close application to study, but of correct deportment and
moral obedience. This is the period for training, not only to abstain

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from every species of vice iiiid criminality, but to practise all those
graces and virtues, wliich alike diiruify and ennoble bunianity. Tliis
is tlie period best a(laj)ted for sowinij on tlu; soil of the hnnuin heart
the ine(>rrn()tible seed of the Word, and laying hold, by faith, of those
promises which plcdL^e the divine faithfulness to second such instru-
mentality with iiis richest blessinjj;. It is thus clear, as the surd)eam,
that education constitutes a most powi^rfid mean for promoting the
best, the highest interests of humanity. It is tVom this (juarter and
through this channel, accordingly, that the Church, in every succeeding
age, derives her largest succour, her (,'hief sup])lies, her recruiting
and over .idvancing progression, all d(!monstrating the soundness of
our position — the manifold obligations of the Church to education.

Ediirntion adds (UiuizitKjhi to the Clnirrli's ('(ip(d)illttcs of KSffidness.
There are two cardinal duties imposed upt»n the churcli universal,
for the discharge of which she was established in this world, and for
which, mainly, she is preserved, — duties which enter into the very
<'ssi'n('(! of her constitution, and foi'm, when vigorously )aet and
<lischarged, her bidwark and glory. The first is to maintain and
defend tlu; truth, as that is unfolded in the div'ue record. l)y tliis, we
do not understand any on(^ truth, or series of truths, but the whole
truth of God, as embodied in the canonical books of Scripture. lie
of whom the Scriptures testify, the second jjcrson of the ever blessed
Trinity is sonu'times desiiimvted 'The Truth,' because his yrand oflice
is to establish the truth of God in opposition to th(i falsehood of
Satan, lie is then the embodiment of truth, and around him. as a
focal centre, all the truth may be said to revolve. This truth is a
dead letter, in so far as the word itself is concerned. It is the Chui'ch
that constitutes its embodicid living rei)resentation ; it is the. Church
that is its bulwark against all the assaults of the enemy, whether in the
matter of doctrine or ])recept. of ordinance, or of sacrament, whether
in the defence or the teachie.g of o'lr fiith.

The other duty imposed upon the church, is to spread the truth, far
and wide, even to the utmost ends of the earth. It is hers not only to
defend, but, enthusiastically and valiantly, to propagate the truth; and,
for this purpose, she must act upon the aggressive, carrying the glad
tidings of reconciliation and salvation, to those nations yet in the
darkness and misery of spiritual death. This is her special com-
mission ; not only enjoined by her exalted Head, but in perfect
accordance with her princijdes, and in liarmony with the desires and
aspirations she generates and fosters.

NATI'IM: »>K EDICATION.

all those
ty. This
iiaii h(^art
I, of those
L'h iiistni-
sunlieam,
iotin<f the
larter and
iuceceding
re(;rviiting
iikUk'ss of
education.

usefulness.
universal.
Id, and for
) the very
niet and
iutain and
By this, w(^
-_ the -whole
|iture. lie
ver blessed
and olliee
sehood of
him, as a
truth is a
le Church
u> Church
Iher ill the
it, whether

truth, far
not only to
truth; and,
<f the glad
yet in the
ecial corn-
ill perfect
lesires and

Now, that eruditiou and mental culture arc iiidispensahlc for these
two grand o])jects, no one who knows what Christianity nudly is, and
the op])osition it has to encounter, l)y the direct antagonism of the seed
of llie woman and the seed of the serpent, will, ior a moment, (pu^stion.
The vast attaiiunents in literature and science that are bronjrht to
licar against it, can only he instrumentally met and refuted by those
posst'ssed of similar, and, if possilde, of greatei powers and acquire-
ments. The war mainly waged against revelation, at the ])resent time
is through [)liysical and natural science, through geology on the one
hand, and pliytology and zoology on the other. And how can this
assault be met and discomlited, but by those who are thoiough masters
(if these brauf'hes of science, who possess not (»idy a general actpiaint-
aiice with th(;ir mon^ elc'.i: .itary ])riuciples, but who, confessedly,
know them in all their nicest and most occult points ; and who ar(>
:il.>o versant wiili the general princi[)'.es of intei'pretation, and with
the literature of thcol«/gy. And does not all this imply a comi)lete
sclioolini'- in the (elementary branches of education ? Jf all thi^ wits of
Satan and his emissaries are sharpened to substantiate charges against
the bulwarks of our faith, surely it is necessary, indispensably neces-
sary, that the champions of the truth meet them on their own
liattle-ground. and light them with their own weapons ; and this can
only be done by the possession of vast stores of learning, wielded by
nunds of discriminating acumen and of high culture — such as what
nothing but a thorough education can im[)art.

Again, the diversified phases of idolatiy, delusion, superstition,
scepticism and infidelity, which the heralds of the truth nuist expcict
to meet in unfurling their banners u[ion foreign shores, can be
dinnolished, and Christianity built upon their ashes, oidy by those
whose int(dlects have been well disciplined, and whose stores of
learning are vast and orderly arranged. On the banks of the Ganges,
the very same objections are brought against Christianity by the
learned IJralmrns, that were advanced by the Humes and Voltaires
and other se( itics of last century, liesides, many of the Pagan
systems of religion, that obtain at this nu)ment in heathen lands, are
founded ujxtii their philosophic creed. IMiat ci'eed is, generally
speaking, erroneous, aiul can easily be disproved by the v(M'iest
tyros in physi-al science. But, in order to effectuate this, the
propagators of Christianity must be thoroughly educated ; not only
well accpiainled with the subject matttu* of their message but with all
those systems of religious belief, which it is their aim to demolish, as
Well as with those systems of science and philosophy so closely

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interwoven tbcrewitli. Tuit over and above all this, it is now a well
establislied fact that the most sucoessf'iil missionary among the
heatlien nations, iiistrumcntally roifanled, is the man who ])ossesses
the ii'reatcst power, in presenting; to the nntutored mind reli<,dons or
spiritual truth through the medium of visilde or natural objects or
things. The untutored mind of the masses of the heathen is like that
of a child, it cannot grasp abstract truth. The grand avenue to tlnir
understanding is thi'ough their perceptive faculties. And need we
show again that for this, natural science is much reijuired ? That the
Church, then, serve the high end for which she is planted and
j^reserved in this world, a high education is indispensabl(!.

Education is the best and speediest ivaij of evanfielizing the nations
of the earth. Thure arc two ways in which this high and holy mission
may be fullilled. It may be either through the medium of a foreign
or a home agency. The former is the mode generally pursued ; the
latter has only l)een tried, and that to a limited extent, in more recent
times. AYliich of these two modes is the more likely to effect tlie end
with the greatest speed and eiliciency, is an im[)ortant question. And
in answering this (piestion, no one, we think, can shut his eyes to the
fact, that the mode generally pursued has not been followed with the
results that we would have anticipated from the expenditure of means
and apjiliances. And surely, it is a befitting subject to en(piire into
the probable cause of this, in so far as secondary instrumentality is
concerned. And we have no hesitation in expressing it as our
opinion, that much of this comparative failure is to be attributed to
the nature of the agency employed. The greater proportion of the
nations still enslaved and steeped in the abominations and cruelties of
idohitry, are resident in tropical climates, with languages, habits and
pursuits diverse from those sending to them the glad tidings of
salvation. The result is, that two-thirds of the missionaries that are
from foreign shores, foil victims to the inbospitableness of the climate,
and that oftentimes before they have mastered the language, or become
acquainted with the peculiarities and habits of the people. Thus
each successive supply is hurried off the field before much <!ffici(Mtt
service is done, and the general progress is comparatively small. The
only way we know of obviating the difrictdty, and of rend(!ring
secondary agency more successful, is the accompaniment of the whole
of these operations with the high, intellectual, moral, and religious
education of the young. Numbers of those thus educated, might, by
the use of scriptural means, be converted to the faith of the Gosi)el. A

high literary and philosophical education should be provided for such

NATUUK OP KDUCATION.

)W 11 well
long the
]io.ss('sses
iiglous or
objects or
1 like tliat
e to their
wood we
Tliat tlie
,ntecl :iinl

he nations
ly mission
a foreign
'sned ; the
lorc recent
ct the end
ion. And
iycs to th(;
1 with the
c of means
(juire into
entality is
it as our
ributed to
ion of the
rnelties of
abits and
tidings of
s tliat are
|u; climate,
or become
c. Thns
[1 (itricient
ail. The
rendering
It he \vhol(>
religion^:
Imiijht, bv
lospel. A
for such.

v.lio, in course of time, might I)c qnaliiied to go forth as teachers, or
catecliists, or ministers, instructing and disciplining their benighted
fellow-countrymen. These, possessed of constitutions in very way
adapted to the climate, a thorough acquaintance with the {(cculiarities
[ii!(l habits of the people, and a perfect knowledge of the vernacular
ton'nie, v/ould be the mosL i-iigible instruments for the evan<felization
and renovation of the surrounding population. This plan, ultimately,
would not be nearl}- so expensive as the other, and it would be far
more likely to produce the desired result, both by reason of the age of
(he recijtients, and the instrumentality brought to bear upon them.
This view of the nuitter might easily be illustrated an;' coniirmed by
the experience of those who have tested it, either u i smaller or
larger scale. It might also be shown to receive additional confirmation
by a reference to those lands, where revivals and reformations in
religion, have taken the firmest hold, and sjiread most extensively
tlu^ir benign influence. These and similar changes, have generally
been effected throuirh the medium of a home-born, a native a^encv.
But on these and such like topics, however directly bearing on the
subject in hand, we caniutt now enlarge.

"We trust we have said enough to satisfy every unprejudiced mind
that education, instrumentally regarded, is of paramount, of vital
importance to the })rospenty of the Church at large. It matters not
I, as to the sphere of usefulness on which she has embarked, whether it
be in the maintenance or propagation of the truth, whether it be in
acting on the defensive or aggressive, she is powerful in very propor-
tion to the degree of her educational equijiment. True, her living,
her Onmipoteut Head could enable her to accomplish His i)urposes
independently of such e(piipment ; but this is not Ilis usual method of
procedure. The highest talent and attainment, when consecrated to
the service of the Church, when laid in humble adoration and in
childlike simplicity ujjou her altar, are the means on which He looks
wi'ih fullest complacency, and crowns with the largest measure of
success. Surely then, the Church in failing to succour and support,
in every possible way, the cause of universal education, is not only
acting in direct violation of duty, but is recreant to her highest and
noblest interest; is not only placing an embargo upon her future
extension, but despoiling her of her intrinsic worth, and strength, and
glory. Let but the Church awake to a sense of her responsibility
and privilege in respect to the Christian education of lier young — let
lur but be imbued with the spirit of her divine Head, and with what
u panoply is she armed for the future, and what lustre would she shed

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ov(!r the iiiitions. Then, indecMl, would she be, like tlx! sun in tlit!
finnament, " Which is as u l)ri(l(\i,TO()in coniinir out of his chiniilicr,
and iTJoiccth as a strong' man to run a race. Ilis i^oing forlh is ironi
the end of the heaven and his circuit utito the ends of it ; and there is
uothiiiL' hid from tlu; heat thereof."

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Itl'CAPITULATION f)F CHAl'TKU.
The importance; of education. !!s seen from the benefits it confer.-,
we have sketched in broadest outline. The benefits it confers on the
individual may well bt! called /('(/ion, for they are many. Indeed, it is
education and education alone, that elevates man, instrumentally. to
liis rijihtful position both in tinu* and eternitv. It miid't be a belittini:-
exorcise for the students att(Midinij a Normal School, to trace the
[)arallel between the educated and uneducated, the tutored and
untutored mind. This miuht exhibit the advantages of education in
a more conspicuous and palpable li;>ht. It will be observed that we
have more fully elaborated the biMiefits of education to the State,
than we have done either to the individual or C'inirch ; and that
mainlv because the i^rand burden of our theme is national education.
We have presented a jflowing picture of the effects of education orx the
State, but that picture is neither overdrawn nor cxaagerated. We
have abundant corroborative facts in the past history and present
condition of the species to substantiate every step of our argument, to
uphold every })osition we have taken. Who can impede the onward
progression of mind? As well might we attempt to bid ba<'k the
waves of old ocean. AVlio will V(>nture to controvert the infallilde
testimony of inspiration that truth and righteousness will eventually
prevail? And how can these Ik; diffused save through the educational
process? ]>ut if the benetits of education to the individual and to the
State are great and diversilied, they are eciually so to the Church. In
using the term Chur(;]i, it need hardly be notified that we refer to an\
one branch or denomination of the visible Church above another, but
to the universal Catholic Church consisting of all. who, in every age'
and in every place, make a credible [)rofessioii of true religion,
together with their children. There was a time when it was thonoht
that education was prejudicial to the interests of the Church, that the
height of her faith was proportioniite to the depths of her ignorance ;
but that time has already gone by, and now po|)ular systems of
education are patronized and pro[)agated by all who profess Chris-
tianity, even where despotic rule reigns. There need be no jealousy

NATUUi: <H KDCCATIO.V.

bctwreii true science; atid true rcliiiioii. Tlic one not only illnstnites
hut fi)niirnis and nitilics tlic oIIkm-. There is a pathway for the
instrumentality of the most profound devotee of science, just as then*
is foi' the highest divine aijoncy ; and tlieso, instead of clashing, but
iiuniish (.'acli other into brighter radiance, into more (hiz/ling lustre.
Though the fountain of uncreatiMl light and life ami holiness delights
to l)aiile the wisdom of this world, there are none towards whom he
looks witli more heiiign complacency or with more airectionute
interest, than those who have, subordinated their reason, as well as all
their other powers and energies to the sovereign will of infinite
wisdom, who know experimentally what it is to become fools that
they may be wise.

And now need we say that tin; education tiiat will ensure these and

similar benefits to all these parties must be of highest order — no mere

rote, mechanical, pouring in, explanatory process, but a line, salient,

exhilarating, refreshing interchange of thought and sentiment between

the mind of teachers and pu[»ils, and that, in perfect adaptation to

all the princi[des and laws, to all the instincts and tendenc^ies, to all

the sympathies and sensibilitii's of thi'ir physical, intellectual and

moral constitution. More than all this, there nmst be the bringing

into contact with the elasticity and buoyancy of the juvenile mind,

those truths and facts, those living, yet unseen objects — tiik livini;

oNi:. which are congenial to their heaven-sprung constitution, and

whicii can alone meet ami satisfy tln'ir soaring aspirations, their

undying longings. And more than all this still, the education that

wafts all these blessings on its bosom must be invested with all the

•lijliiity of conscious ))roprietorsliip, with all the might and majesty of

a self-sustained trium})h. And all iterated and reiterated, aye and

until the knowledge attained, and the faculties developed, become

stereotyped, part and parcel of their vei-y being.

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BOOK II.

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

CHAPTER I.

'iiillll'

llill!ith!;i:

WHAT IT IS.

^^LASSinCATIOX OF ITS rRJNCllT.Kr". — TlIKfiK I'KINCII'LKS VIIAVKD IN TWO

ASi'ix'TS ; 1, The lkauing Featuueh ok Cuauactkuistics of ths
Chilus natuue; and, 2, Tnii Mkanh to ije kesoktkd to fok thk

l>i;Vr,L01'Mi:N"T of THK SAMK. — Exl'MEUATIOX of these features WITH
TIIEIU Al'I'UOl'lUATE ADAl'TATIOXS.

The term science, accoixllng to its derivation, signifies knowledge in
general. It is, however, rarely used in this vague sense, and commonly
imports knowledge of a certain description, — knowledge systematically
'arranged ; it may be, either of facts, or principles, or laws. In a more
restricted sense, it is applied to any branch of knowledge, properly
arranged such as the science of Astronomy, Botany, Zoology, Geology.
Philosiophy has already performed its otHce. By observation and
exiieriment, it has investigated the varied phenomena presented, dis-
covered their causes, and in the shape of general conclusions, deduced
certain laws and principles. "Wlien these have been classified, and a
complete method or system constructed, it is designated a science.

But the term before us has a still more restricted meaning, and
often stands opposed to art. Science and art, when thus used, are
correlative terms, and correspond to theory and prctctisc. This is the
sense in which we now take it ; and as thus understood, it signifies a
body or system of principles .and deductions, by which the nature of
any given subject is explained ; whilst art signifies a body or system of

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precepts, with practical skill for the complt'tion of some work. A
science teaches us to know; an art to do. IVie science of cducatioHy
then, is neitlier ninn; nor less than a knowledge of its principles, sys-
U'lnuticuliy arranged. These i»rineiples are just the leading features
of the child's nature with the adaptations most suitable for their
growth and development. These two, in all our subsequent discus-
sions, must go tog(!ther — the one constituting the pedestal and the
other the columnar pillar. By the leading features or characteristics,
we are clearly to understand tiiost* wliieli are common to all children,
such as enter into the very essence of their being. In a field of wheat,
for example, of any one kind or sort, whilst every stalk has something
peculiar to itself, there are certain specific characters common to the
whole, by reason of which they are all pronounced to belong to the
same kind or species. So is it in reference to the young of the human
family. Though every child may have some peculiarity of its own, yet
<'very one has certnin leading features, which stand out in bold relief.
These, with their appropriate ada2)tations, may Ix^ thus enumerated.

Ki'fnj child possesses a physical, intellectuah emotional, aesthetical
<md moral natHre. The sjKJcific for the strengthening of the one or
other of these pai'ts of the child's being, is exercise. This is the adap-
tation process of this characteristic ; and the teacher, who brings it to
bear with the greatest skill on all these parts, is the most successful.

These coHstituent parts are in indissolvble union and reciprocal
dependence. The means best adapted to the development of this fea-
ture, is simaltatieoiis exercise. If the reciprocity referred to exists,
and this, no one, who has studied the human constitution, will venture
to deny, surely it behoves the teacher to turn it to the most profitable
nccount ; and so to operate ujiou the one through the medium of the
'ithers, as to draw therefrom the largest possible result.

Great diversity of endowment or of natural talent. This feature, so
palpable to all, is met by presenting to the minds of the young a
variety of subjects, mainly through tlie medium of oral lessons, vary-
ing in matter and form, according to the grade of pupils.

Different epochs of development. If, Jis is uniformly found, the
young are, at first, more dependent on their senses, then on their mem-
ory, and, lastly, on their reasoning, these powers must necessarily be
in livelier exercise, in more ^orous application at one time than at
another : and what appliance better fitted to meet and do justice to
this feature than to direct the time and attention of the young to those
branches of study most congenial to the powers, in full bloom, at these
epochs, respectively ?

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Variety of attainment. Tliis Iciiture existH uikIlt the most exact
system of cla.ssirK'iition ami arningemcut ; and the way by which Wf
a(la[it ourselves to it, is teaching l)y outlines; — opening up the sun-
jcet hy giving lirst tlie merest skeleton, then entering gi'adiially into
detail, till the attainments and capabilities of all are proved and
exhausted.

Sjjnipathy of numbers. This is a powerful lever either for good or
evil, and ought to be taken advantage of in the educational process.
Hy i)roper classification, elevated seats or gallery, enclosed play-
ground, and other expedients, this may be done both in intellectual
and moral traiiiing.

77/6 impressihilitij of the youny. That tlu; young are more sus-
ceptible of impressions, far more yielding and jilastic in their nature
than the adult or full-grown, is undoubted ; and in no other way can
this feature be met than by securing for the young the best p-ossible
education in their growing condition ; and by persuading all parties
concerned — the parent, the state and the church, that, even under the
most favourable ausj)ices, nothing can secure such an education of th'o
young but regular, steady, continuous, i»ersevering attendance at
school, till they reach the fifteenth or sixteenth year of their age.

From this brief enumeration of the leading characteristics of the
child's nature, with their appropriate means of development, it will be
seen that the whole of the science of education is resolvable into a
series of well-chosen adajjtations — the only sound and safe principle
on which to rest it. "We pretend not to exhaust the various charac-
teristics of the child's nature ; neither do we profess to give a perfect
enumeration of their appropriate adaptations. But we do maintain,
and that with no small measure of confidence, that the principle on
which the whole is founded — the principle of adaptation, is firm and
unassailable. It is a princiijlc which pervades all nature, providence,
and grace. Its existence — its universal prevalence, forms one of the
finest proofs of design in creation, and not only displays the supreme
intelligence, but the boundless goodness of the Almighty. It furnishes,
too, one of the strongest arguments in support of the divine origin of
the Bible. What does that Book profess to be but a universal remedy
to a deep-rooted, inveterate disease ? and where is the individual who
has tested it, and not found it in nicest, in most complete adapta-
tion to his case ? In adopting this principle, then, as the one on
which to found the whole science of education, we are surely on
safe ground, when we have both philosophy and revelation on our side,
— when we stand in close juxta position with an analogy that reigns
throuijhout the whole of the natural and moral world.

SCIKNCE OF KDUCATION.

vs. act
IcU wi'

IL' SIU>-

ly into
m1 iiutl

rood or
)roccss.

1 vUvy-

Ueclual

J re sus-
i- luituie
way ciui

|^i()S^^il>lL'

1 piu'ties
nilor the
)11 of tli«
liiuce lit
age.

LIS of the
it will be
lie into u
prineiplc
is charuc-
|a perfect
|maiutain,
iciple on
tinu and
ovideucc,
,10 of the
supreme
Ifuruishes,
origin of
Ll remedy
Idual who
le udapta-
le one on
[surely on
1 our side,
liat reigns

KKCAriTn.A'lKiX OI" CIlAl'TKi:.
It \> the opinion of some that tlie time lias not yet arriveil for icdii-
clng education to a science, and that it ought, for a wliile longer, at
least, to be subjected to the experimental crucible. We need scarcely
say that we have no symjiathy with this sentiment. If the jiractical
results of education, in all tlieir length and breadth, are to be consider-
ed an indispensablj prerecjuisite in the construction of such a science,
tliere might be some ^■alidity In the opinion thus ex[)ressiHl. This,
however, is not the case. Tlie science of education no more depends
on its results than the theory of nuisic, or painting, or architecture, does
on the art, or the science of chemistry on the practical ai)plIcation of
its princli)les to the economics of life. All that is necessary here, as
ill every otluu" department, is first to draw tlu^ line of demarcation
lielweon the principle or j)rlnciples invcdved, and their practical appli-
cation — between the science and the art ; and having determined this
point, to proceed to classify these jji-inci^des according to the resem-
lilances or difference; that obtain, and tlie result of this classification
is a methotllcal arrangement or a science. In the science of chemistry,
for examj'le, we have first the material on which we oi)erate, namely,
the elementary bodIes= "Wc must make ourselves well accpialnted with
these in their properties and relntloiis, all already reduced to a system.
Tlie next point worthy of consideration, is the end or object to be
aimed at, and that Is the formation of other bodies having specific
(piullties liy the combination of these elementary substances, accord-
ing to a fixed law, called the law of chemical attraction or affi-
nity. All really necessary for the construction of the science of
chemistry, is a knowledge of these materials and of the law of com-
binatiun. The application of that law in the production of distinct
resultants does not at all affect the principles involved in the science.
And just so is it in the subject of education. Here wo have the mate-
rials or the leading features of the child's nature. Here, too, we have
a great end or object aimed at, namely, the development and growth
of all these parts, and that by the application of a principle ftir more
extensive in its range and far more enduring in its results than even
that of chemical affi nity — \v'c mean, of course, the principle of adapta-
tion. In reducing education, then, to a science, all we have to do is to
classify or arrange, in systematic order, the leading features of the
child's nature, and to apply to each the adaptation principle in the
production of the desired end, and that principle is either exercise or
something originating in the social or sympathetic constitution of our
being. This is just what we have sketched in the preceding chapter,
and which we proceed to elaborate in detail.

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TEACHER S TEXT-BOOK.

CHAPTER II,

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First chauactkristic. — Every child a compound ueing, having a
physical, intellectual, emotional, ^sthetical and moral na-
TUUK. — I. Physical Education. — Its meaning, general and special,

FOUNDED ON AnIMAL PhYSIOLOGY. — O. ScHOOL-HOU SE. — VENTILATION,
temperature, light; — dependent on NUTRITIVE SYSTEM OF OIIGANS.

b. FUKNITURE OK SCHOOL — GRADED ; SUPPORTING SYSTEM. — C. SCHO-
LARS, CLEAN, NEAT AND ORDERLY ; CuTANEOUS SYSTEM. — d. ScHOLARS'

ATTENTION,— PHYSICAL EXERCISES ;— MvJSCULAR SYSTEM.— f. KeGULATION
OF STUDIES, — VARIETY, REGULARITY, PUNCTUALITY AND ITERATION ;

Nervous system. — IT. Intellectual Education. — its meaning, —
Founded on Intellectual philosophy. — Classification of powers
OF Intellect. — Intellectual Education consists of two parts ; —

GIVING PROPER FOOD AND IN A WAY THAT IT WILL RE DIGESTED :

LATTER INVOLVES TWO THINGS, THEORY AND PRACTICE. — INTELLECTUAL
POWERS CONSIDERED SERIATIM; — O. PERCEPTION; — 6. CONCEPTION;

c. Memory ; — d. Imagination ;— e. Generalization •,—^f. Reasoning ; —
;/, Intuition : — their nature, importance and edi;cation. — III.

Emotional Education, — meaning, — founded on sensikilities. —
Classification ; — Emotions, affections and desires. — Each of
these classes considered ; nature, position and education. —
IV. The will — viewed psychologically — what emhraced in

EVERY ACT OF WILL — I.MPORTANCE OF WILL — EXECUTIVE OF WHOLB
MAN — PvDUCATION OF WILL. ExERCISE, REGULAR COURSE OF EDUCA-
TION, KEEPING ItODY HEALTHFUL, PUNCTUALITY AT STUDIES, WRITE

CRITIQE OF WHAT READ. V. il^STHETICAL EDUCATION. — ItS IMPORT,

IN WHAT THE REAUTIFUL CONSISTS ; — ILLUSTRATIONS, — TaSTE, llOTH
INTELLECTUAL AND EMOTIONAL ; I.MPORTANCE OF THE BkAUTIFUL — ITS
INFLUENCE, ELETATING AND REFINING ; — UtILITT IN COMMERCE AND

IN Natural Theology. — Education of Taste, Exercise, Actual
PRACTISE, — Chief works of Great masters, — Study of Nature.
VI. Moral Education. — Nature of conscience ; — Supremacy ; — Out-
stripping importance of this uranch. — The education of dis-
criminative, OHLIGATORY AND TESTIFYING. — CONSCIENCE FALLIIiLE.

Whence light and guidance f Bihle; — its adaptation, — use in

SCIIOOL3 ; MANNER AND f<PIRIT OF USE ; OCCASIONS OF USE, rt. In PUH-

LIC DEVOTIONS OF SCHOOL ; — b. REPOSITORY OF RELIGIOUS AND .MORAL
INSTRUCTION ; C. DIRECTORY' OR StATUTE-BoOK IN EVERY DAY .MORAL

DUTIES ; — (I. Last standard of appeal ; — e. need of gracious influ-
ences.

This presents a wide Held of contemplation, involving the whole
subject of physical, intellectual, emotional, ajsthetical and moral educa-
tion. To do anything like justice to each of these great branches,
would require a volume for itself. All we can attempt, therefore, i.s
a mere outline ; and even that, to be intelligible and instructive, will
re(iuirc no small amount of space. When it is considered, however,
that this feature, in all its compartments, lies at the foundation of the
whole ; that when clearly apprehended, it furnishes a key whereliy to
unlock the treasures of all the others, it is hoped, that the space iUlot-
ted will not bo found disproportionate to its importance.

SCIKNCE OF EDUCATION.

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Skctio.n I. — Physical Education.

This important theme may be regarded in several aspects ; in refer-
ence to ihc family or the school, to the young or those who have
reached, jihysically, the manhood of their existence. The application
it receives, necessarily, affects its import, and presents it under consi-
derable variety of modification. If, for example, it refers to those whose
bodily frame has reached a state of perfection, it deiiotes the use of all
means for the preservation of the health and the gracefulness of the
body, technically called hygiene or hygienism. If, again, it refers to
the young, it signifies not merely the use of all proper means for pre-
serving the health of the body, but also for its growth — the gradual
and harmonious development of all its organs. In every animal, as in
every plant, there are certain parts called organs or instruments, from
their performing certain functions. In the human species, as in other
animals, these organs are classified under six systems, — the cutau'^ous,
the supporting, the muscular, the nervous, the nutritive and the icpro-
ductive. A knowledge of the anatomy of these organs, and especially
of the office they perform, is, properly speaking, Anhral Physioloyy.
Tliis, as well as vegetable physiology, is a branch of study of the
deepest interest and importance, and which, in these modern times,
has received from men of science no ordinary measure of attention.
These two departments — animal and vegetable physiology — not only
lay the foundation of all natural classification in the organic world, but
furnish some of the finest illustrations of natural Theology, and in
their application contribute largely to the promotion of man's personal
and economic welfare. These organs in the young of almost all
animals, are small and tender, but they are especially so, in the human
species, requiring a large variety of appliances, and a long period of
nursing to bring to mii*arity. These appliances must, as a matter of
course, be, mainly, administered in their more infantine years by
parents, and, es])eciajly, by mothers. And how striking the provision
made by the author of our being for securing the care arid self-sacrifi-
cing tenderness of mothers, so requisite for the physical upbringing of
their offspring !

But it is in . . . public school that we have more especially to d<»
with the matter of physical education ; and in turning to this aspect of
the subject, we may notice at the outset, that whilst the teacher, su
long as the scholars are under his charge, has devolved upon him the
entire responsibility of the health of their body and the gracefulness
of their gait, his main concern is to secure, by phys^ical education, a
larger amount of intellectual and moral labour than lie is able to effect

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TKACIIKU S TKXT-I500K.

without it, — is to regard it more in the light of a means than iu that
of ail end. It is scarcely possible to estimate the influence wliieli the
body exerts over the mind ; how completely the one sympathizes with
the other, whether in disease or health, in a state of langoiir or of
vigour, of weakness or of strength ; how tlKjroughly and extensively
they act and re-act upon each other ; and hence the lever put into the
hand of the teacher by the skilful ap})lication of physical education,
the immense power it gives in the whole cultivation of the mental
faculties. There is scarcely a department in the management of the
school, where the teacher cannot summon to his aid this instrumen-
tality, where he cannot employ physical education as a powerful
auxiliary, a most valuable handmaid. There is, first, the school-house ;
it must bo provided with a suitable supply of air, temperature and
light, or else it will not serve the purpose for which it was Iniilt ; and
on what does this depend but on the laws of animal physiology, and
more especially on the nutritive or assimilative system of organs.
The furnit^ve of the school-house, too, must be constructed in adapta-
tion to the size of the children, that is, the seats and desks must Ije
graded ; and this is necessary, not merely for their health and comfort,
but even for douig justice to their intellectual and moral faculties.
All this mainly depends on the general nascent condition of their phy-
sical parts, and, especially, on the supporting or bony system of organs.
Again, the persons of the scholars ought to be clean and neat ; this is
alike necessary for the health of the body, the refinement of the taste,
and the invigorating of the mind ; and this is dependent on the cuta-
neous system of organs. And now that the scholars are all properly
adjusted in their persons, seated comfortably, and in a commodiously-
sized school-room, is it asked, can anything now be done, through the
medium of physical education, to secure their attention to the work
for whose performance they are assembled ? "We reply, a very great
deal ; and that by operating on the brain through the muscular system
of the organs : — To do this, however, the teacher recpiires to be well
acquainted with the grand law of that system, the law of contractility.
Once more, it may be asked, is physical education of any service in
furthering the grand object of the education of the young ? Yes, we,
unhesitatingly, reply. The faculties and sensibilities of the human
mind can only be exercised, developed and st lengthened, in accord-
ance with the laws that regulate the organization of the brain ; and
hence it is necessa' , not only that we know these laws, but that, in

all our mental management and treatment, we act in liar

mony there

with. Thus, there is scarcely a department in the whole range of our

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

:-jv

suhjc'Pt, in which intellectual and moral erlucation may not be largely
promoted by means of the physical. But wo must discuss the whole
matter of physical education in detail ; and, first, let us regard it in
its bearing on the school-house.

School-lionse, We say nothing here about the site, the grounds, the
surroundino; scenery, or the external form and architecture of the
building ; all these points will be amply discussed at a subsequent
stage of our course, under the practical department. What we have
now to do is to regard the school-house in its internal capabilities, as
these affect the bodv. There are three thinjjs which, in this connec-
tion. demand our attention, namely, ventilation, temperature and light ;
and unless these requisites to all intellectual and moral imp"ovement
be provided, the best system and the most skilful teachei' will be of
little avail. All these clearly and distinctly depend on the laws of
animal physiology, and what, as has already been stated, what is
physical education but these laws systematized, or reduced to a science,
and applied to the educational process.

Ventilation — Nntritire system of organs. T>y this term is meant
the act of ventilating or fanning with wind, the replacement of nox-
ious or impure air in an apartment, mine, or other enclosed space, by
pure fresh air from without. The importance of a due supjily of fresh
atmospheric air in the school-room, cannot be over-estimated. It is
indispensable, not only for the preservation of the life and the growth
of the physical frame of its inmates, but still more for the healthful
and vigorous application of their mental powers. Though the human
mind has an existence perfectly distinct from the body, yet so long as
wo are in the body, it i« indissolubly united to and dependent u[)on it
for its legitiniate exercise. If the body is in a disabled condition ; if,
for example, the blood that goes to the brain, the seat of thought and
volition, is not prop(Tly vitalized, the mind in its operations is propor-
tionally affected, is not in a position to do justice to itself And on
what does the vitalizing of the blood depend ? On several things, but
especially on its being brought in contact with pure atmospheric air
by the act of respiration ; and hence the vast importance of the sub-
ject b(>f()re us. l?ut we must enlarge here. We have said, that the
blood constitutes the vital fluid — that it is essential for the life, and
lieaUli, and activity, both physical and mental, of all, and, especially, of
tile young ; and, this being the case, it is surely in every way l)efitting,
that we trace, as briefly as we can, its various stages or processes of
pn>paration, until it reach its maturation and become capable of per-
tin'ming the functions for which it was intended. On what, then, is it

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asked, does the due quantity and quality of this fluid depend — how are
the supply and jjurity of the blood to be maintained ? It depends on
these two things : 1st. The organs involved; and 2nd. Tlie appliances
administered. The organs employed in preparing the blood on which
the whole vital functions depend, are sometimes called the nutriticc.
or, from the nature of the process, the assiinlhttive; and these again
are divided into the diyestife, the circnlntonj, and respiratory. In
digestion there are three processes gone through : mastication, chymi-
Jication, and chylijication. 1st. Mastication^ performed in the mouth
by the teeth, the salivary glands, the muscles of the tongue and of
deglutition. 2. Chyniification, the act of making into chyme the food
taken into the stomach by the left or cardiac opening, by which it is
changed into a greyish l)ulpy substance, always in a healthy state,
slightly acid ; and the agent employed to bring about this decompo-
sition of the food is called the gastnc juice, — a clear, transparent iluid
without smell, slightly saltish, and very perceptibly acid ; — one of the
most potent of secretions, perforating and grinding into powder the
hardest metals. 3. Chylijication, or the making of chyme into chyle,
which takes place in the duodenum, the first part of the intestines,
where it mixes with the bile and the pancreatic juice, and is sej)arated
into two parts, one of which is carried out of the systeu;, and the
other, which contains the concentrated essence of the whole, is taken
up by innumerable minute vessels, called lacteals, and is thence con-
du(;ted through the mesenteric glands into the receptacle of the chyle,
and, afterwards, into thoracic duct, by which it is poured into the
vena; cnvce, under the clavicle or collar bone, to be mingled with
and become the blood. Here endeth the digestive process, or that
process by which the raw material is supplied to the venous blood, to
repair the waste that is unceasingly taking place. The extent of the
change which the food undergoes before it is fitted to form part of the
animal body, is proi)ortionate to the difference between the qualities
of the nutritive materials in their original and assimilated states.
Thus, the conversion of vegetal)le into animal mattc^r necessarily
implies a more lengthene<l process and a more com])lieated apparatus
than the assimilation of what has been already animalized. The
stages of digestion in man, and in all animals similarly constituted, are,
as we have seen, threefold. lu the ruminating family, or those
animals that chew the cud, it is much more tedious and conqdicateil,
that the foofl may l>e detained and exposed to a much largiH- surface.
Hence the comparative length of the intestines in difTerent tribes of
animals. The intestines of the ram are twenty-seven times the length

SCIENCK OF EDUCATION.

of its l)u(ly. the ox twenty-two. man five and a half, the lion three, and
the shark little more than three-fourths its len<^th.

As to the nature of the food taken, that digestion may go on pro-
perly, it should he, in every respect, adapted to the age, the situation,
and the circumstances of the consumer, sufficient in quantity and suit-
able in (juality. The digestive process is much more rapid in some
kinds of food than in others. By 'i series of experiments, it has been
foiuid that vegetables are muc'i more rapidly dissolved thai animal
substances, and some of both more quickly than others. Thus, fried
tripe has been found to digest in one hour ; boiled cod, and likewise
bread and milk, in two hours ; roasted beef, and also soft-boiled eggs,
in three hours ; salt(»d pork, in three and a half hours. The lower
orders generally suffer more from the indigestible quality of their food,
and the higher from the quantity taken. In both, the bad effects are
most marked, when combined with sedentary or intc^nqx'ratc habits.

The next class of organs employed in the preparation of the vital
fluid, is the circulatory. The heart, composed of two lobes, one on
the right and the other on the left side, with two cavities in each,
called the auricle and ventricle, having a separating valve, may be
reijarded as the seat or centre of this class of organs, and acts as a
kind of forcing pump, propelling the venous blood into the lungs,
which, after being purified by a process of aeration, is diffused ])y means
of the arteries all over the body. There are thus two motions in the
current of the blood, the one called the pulmonic and the other the
systemic. The object of the former is to conduct the venous l)lood
into the lungs. This blood, of a dark modena red, is primarily, the
residiHuu of the arterial blood after the body has been duly supplied.
It is taken up all over the body by the small hair-like vesicles, called
capillaries, appended to the veins, and thence conveyed to the vencp
cavte, where it is joined by the chyle in its concentrated essence, in
consequence of the secretions through which it has passed. The
ascending and descending vence caiiee empty themselves into the right
auricle. From this, the venous blood passes into the right ventricle,
which, by muscular contraction sends it into the pulmonary artery, and
this innnediately divides in the lungs into innumerable branches. In
the lungs, as already stated, the blood is subjected to a })rocess of
aeration, by which it passes from a noxious into a nutrient condition,
containing the elements of all the tissues and organs of the body, and,
ni this condition, is conveyed as red and arterial blood by the pulmonary
veins to the left lobe of the heart. These veins from both sides, pour
their supplies of blood into the left auricle, from which, again it passes

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into the left ventricle, and is thence by that contraction which creates
the pnlsation, sent to all parts of the body through the aorta and its
branches into the capillaries of the arteric- ; and, what is not ri'(]uired
for the sustenance of the body, is taken uo by the cajjillaries of the
veins to be again conducted aloni; with the chvle, to the luncs for
revivication. As to the time employed in completing the circulation,
considerable variety of opinion obtains. Assuming the average weight
of a man, between 30 and 40 years fof age to be 170.5 lbs. troy, the
blood would amount to about 39 lbs. If, now, we suppose, that the
heart contracts 70 times in a minute, and that each contraction propels
two oimces of blood, it follows that the whole mass of blood will com-
plete the circulation in three minutes, though some allow even a shorter
period. Much depends in this matter on the age, the constitution, and
the habits of the individual. In early life, the pulsations of the heart
are much more rapid than in mature age, and of course the circulation
must be quicker. There are two distinct forms of constitution in
which the blood is circulated with gr(,'ater or less vigour through the
system. In the one, the circulation is very vigorous ; all the functions ■
are performed with energy ; and the diseases in general are of an acute
character. When the complexion is fair, this constitutes what has been
called the sanguine temperament ; when dark, the choleric. In the
other variety, the circulation and all the functions connected with it,
is languidly performed ; the surface is easily chilled, and the diseases
have frequently, a low, insidious character. "When the complexion is
fair, this has been called the 2)hlegmatic temperament, and the melan-
cholic when the complexion is dark. With a feeble circulation, the
general health never can be good ; and hence we find the action of the
heart weak in most delicate persons. Before leaving this branch of
the subject, it is worth while to call the attention of our readers to
this delicate yet marvellous piece of mechanism — tiio human heart, —
the seat of the whole circulatory process. From the account given
above, it is clear that the office discharged by this organ, with it>
accurately working valves, is essentially that of a fo''cing pump. And
with what inimitable precision and regidarity, doe. t perform this all-
important dutv ! Unweariedly, during the whole term of a long life.
it sends out daily its 100,000 waves of healthful fluid to refresh ami
renovate every corner of the system ; and small as each wave may bi
individually, the aggregate is enormous. Thirteen thousand pounds
pass out of the left ventricle of the heart of an ordinary man every
twenty four hours, and yet the aorta of such a person, is scarcely fui
inch in diameter. What evidence have we here of the perfection oi

SCIBNCK OF EnUCATION.

the divine workmanship ! "Wliat a tribute is here to the honour of that
Ahiiighty Being who is wonderful in counsel and excellent in working I

The last stage of the assiuiilative i)roc('ss is that of respiration.
The organs ('nii)loyed for this puri)Ose, are the lungs and the pulmonary
artery. Tlu; former is composed of the windpipe or tracluea, hranching
off into bronchi, and terminating in very minute sacs or vesicles, which
vary in s'ze from the oOth to 100th part of an inch in diameter, and
which are supjjosed by some to cover an area of 20,000 square inches.
Tlie latter is made up of an immense number of blood-vessels, branch-
ing out upon the sides of the air vesicles. The a of inspiration or
drawing in a breath, is performed by raising the ribs, which, for this
pur{)ose, are provided with numerous nuiscles between and attached to
the ribs, and, at the same time, by depressing the diaphragm. Again,
the act of expiration or the expulsion of the air from the lungs, is
effected, principally, by the elasticity of the ribs, — the muscles that
acted during inspiration having been relaxed, and by the contraction
of the muscles of the abdomen pushing up the diaphragm.

But for what purpose is this delicate piece of mechanism constructed?
Pliiinly, for that of bringing the atmospherical air in contact with tjie
venous blood flowing through the lungs, with the view of its being
sul)jected to the process of aeration or purification. And what, is it
asked, is the composition of this atmospheric air, when inspired, and
when expired? And what is the cause of the change it has under-
gona ? Piu'e atmospheric air is made up, principally, of the two
ingredients, nitrogen and oxygen, in the proportion, per volume, of 4
to 1, or of 79 parts of nitrogen to 21 of oxygen. There is besides a
small projjortion of carbonic acid, but it is so insignificant as not to
produce any sensible effect. The large proportion of nitrogen, acts as
a sort of diluent to the oxygen, a conductor to that gas which seems
as essential for sustaining life as it is for combustion. " The cpumtity
of air," says Combe, " taken into the lungs at one inspiration, varies
according to the age. constitution, and circumstances of the person at
the time. Tt has been variously estim'^ted at from 15 to 40 cubic
iiii'hes." Dr. Southwood Smith states that the largest quantity ever
inlialed, at one inspiration, is nine pints and a quartei'. He adds, that
the quantity received at an ordinary inspiration, without any effort at
all, is about one pint imperial measure, or 34*659 cubic inches ; while,
at any easy inspiration free from any great effort, it amounts to 2^
|)iuts. Females take in a smaller quantity than males, and hence,
jionerally speaking, the thorax is less capacious. The popular notion
that the whole of the air is expelled from the lungs at each exj)iration,

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is entirely erroneous. Even after forcing out as much as we caw, U is
calculated tliat, at least, 40 cubic inches remain in the air cells ; while,
after an onlinary expiration, about 12<> inches remain behiml. Accord-
ing to Sir II. Davy, the whole quantity of air in the lungs after a
natural inspiration, amounts to 13') cubic inches ; so that taking an
ordinary inspiration and exi)iration at 20 inches, the (piantity of air
remaining in the chest, is, at least, five times greater than that exijired.
Dr. vSmith estimates the quantity of air remaining at eleven pints. It
is by this continuance of the air in the lungs that its requisite action
on the blood, is rendered continuous, and has time to take place ; and
also, that we are enabled for a time to hold our breath, when under |
water, .as in diving.

In man, the average numl)er of respirations in health, varies from
14 to 20 in a minute ; but, during disease, it is often uuich greater and, j
sometimes, also, considerably less.

" AYith these data to guide us, we can form a correct idea of the ;
extent to which a constant renewal of the air we breathe is required ;
for the support of life. Taking the consumption of air, at eadi
inspiration, at even the moderate rate of 20 cubic inches, and ratin;:
the number of respirations, at only IT) per minute, it appears that, in
that short space of time, no less than 300 cubic inches are requireil
for the respiration of a single person. Mr. Finlayson estimate^
the fresh air inspired in one minute at GIG cubic inches, or as nearly
as may be, eighteen pints. In one hour it amounts to lOGG 2-3 pint.\
or 20 hog.sheads, 20 gallons, and 10 2-3 pints. In one day itj
amounts to 57 hogsheads, 1 gallon, and 7| pints."

Before entering the lungs, the atmospheric air consists, as we liavf
seen, of 21 parts of oxygen and 79 of nitrogen, with a very small
trace of carbonic acid. WHien it is expelled, however, it is found tr
be greatly altered. In bulk the air expired continues to be nearly
equal to that inspired, but observers are now generally agreed that i
slight diminution takes place. Its chemical proi)erties, however, are I
much changed, for we find on analyses that about five parts out of tliej
21 of oxygen have disappeared. Of these five parts of oxygen, fourl
are returned in combination with carbon as carbonic acid ; lint one!
part remains unaccounted for, and is supposed to enter into combi nation j
with unneutralized hydrogen of the food, to form water and to Ix'
excreted in this shape by the skin, or the lungs, or kidneys.

The changes effected by respiration in the appearance and constitu-
tion of the blood are not less remarkable than those produced on the j
air. From being of a dark purple hue it ])asses immediately to il

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SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

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bright red colour. This cliaiigf! is cuusfd l»y the action of the oxygen

on tlie red particles of the blood ; and it takes place even oiU of the

I body, when venous blood is exposed to the contact of oxygen. In

etiecting this change the oxygen is absorbed and carbonic acid is

exhaled. Arterial blood accordingly contains more oxygen and less

ciirbon than venous blood. It is in the red globules that the chief

Changes produced by respiration take place. These constitute the

I respiratory portion of the blood, and each globule may be considered

;is a separate living entity, which comes to the lungs to iidiale fresh

lair. Consecpiently, the greater the number of red globules, the greater

|i>s the ipiantity of oxygen inhaled, and the more energetic arc the vital

functions. The red globides laden with oxygen are carried along the

larteries to the capillaries where, by means of exosmosis and endosmosis

Itlioy deposit their cargo of vivifying materials, and, becoming venous.

jrcceivo in exchange the expended materials of the tissues which they

Iconvey to the lungs and other organs of excretion. The vast import-

liince of the red ijlobules of the blood for all vital actions will now be

uanifest; and it will be readily understood why the powers of life are

most vigorous in individuals whose blood contains the due jjroportion

jf globules oxygeiuited by the respiration of a pure, dry, and bracing

iir; and why, on the contrary, every function is carried on with

languor and listlessness, when the red globules are deficient in quantity.

)r the air respired is lo? ded with impurities.

The restoration of the vital properties of the venous blood is not the
l>nly change which is effected during its passage through the lungs. —
The development of animal heat is another and very important result
|)f its oxygenation, and one scarcely less essential to the continuation
)f life. If the human body did not possess within itself the power of
generating heat, so as to maintain nearly an equality of temperature in
)ill climates, it could not long exist. In winter and, especially, in the
lortheru regions, if no provision existed for replacing caloric withdrawn
From the system by the cold air surrounding it, the blood would be
|peedily converted into a solid mass and life be extinguished. In most
[)arts of the globe, the heat of the atmosphere is even in summer
Inferior to that of the human body, and, consequently, a loss of caloric
J8 always going on, which must be made up in some way, otherwise
lisease and death would speedily ensue.

The principal source of the heat of the animal body is the combina-
|ions into which oxygen enters with the products of the digested food,
rlie nature of these combinations and the amount of heat in-oduced,
lorise(iuently, vary with the quality of the food. In this sense, respi-

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ration is, essentially, a process of slow combustion ; carbon and liydrogeii
arc thi; princinal elements consumed, and the amount of calorie pro-
duced in the body is precisely the same as would have resulted from
the ordinary combustion of these bodies in the oj)en air.

Such is the nature of the change produced u^ion the venous blood 1)y
its being brought in contact with the atmospheric air; and when we
reflect upon the fact that this constitutes the finishing sti'oke of the
assimilative proc( ^s v/f which all the previous steps are mercjly prepa-
ratory ; and when, at the same time, we consider the results that flow
therefrom, involving the life, and health, and vigour of the human con-
stitution, both physically and mentally, we cannot fail to perceive its
transcondant importance, and the conscMjuent necessity of using every
means l)y which the change effected shall be of the most comi)lete a'.nl
perfect character. And what arc the means to be employed for this
purpose ? We rejjly, a due sup})ly of suitable food and of pure atmos-
pheric air. As to the former, it is plain it ought to be sufficient in
quantity and suitable in quality ; and both correst)onding with the age,
constitution, and habits of the parties concerned. To jjrovide and
administer the f;)od, however, is more approi)riately the function of
the parent than of the teacher, and generally receives a larger measure
of attention. It is more to our purpose, and comes more directly
within the range of the province of the teacher, that we attend to the
latter of these points, namely, the providing of an adequate sujjply of
pure atmospheric air. And what is to be done in this matter ? It is
just to use every means for the preservation of the precise ingredients
in the precise proportions ascertained to exist in the atmosphere. —
Destroy the balance and the most disastrous consequences will ensue.
If the quantity of any of the ingredients be increased or diminished,
the proper constitution of the blood will be immediately changed, and
the general health endangered. If, for instance, there is an excess of
oxygen, it will stimulate to inflammatory action, rouse to feverish
excitement, and, if uninterrupted in its course, terminate fatally, and that
with greatest rapidity. If, on the contrary, there is a deficiency of
oxygen, and the air contain more carbonic acid than the minute trace
of it which exists in pure air, it will be, to that extent, unfit for the
purposes of respiration, and act deleteriously upon the blood and
general system, both physically and mentally. There is no lack of
examples in support of this position. "Who has not heard of the noto-
rious black hole of Calcutta in 1756 ? One hundred and forty-six
Englishmen were thrust into a wretched prison, 18 feet s(juare, in
which there were only two very small windows by which air could be

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admitted ; but as botli of these were on the same side, veiitihitiou wa.s
utterly impossilde. Scarcely was the door shut upon the prisoners,
when their suirerings commenced, and, in u short tinns a delirious and
mortal struggle ensued to get near the windows. Within four hours,
tliose who survived lay in the silence of apoplectic stupor ; and at the
end of six hours, ninety-six were relieved by death I In the morning
wlien the dour was opened, twenty-three only were found alive,
several of whom were subseciuently cut ofll' by i)Utrid fever, caused by
the dreadful eflluvia and corrujttion of the air. An equally disastrous
case occurred in more recent times. AVe refer to what toidv place on
board the Irish steamer " Londonderry," on the night of the lirst of
December, 1818, wlien, of LOO pat-sengers, crowded together in a nar-
row cabin, on account of the stormy nature of the weather, not fewer
than 70 were suffocated before morning.

These, it may be said, are extraordinary cases, and so assuredly
they are ; but the effects of breathing an atmosphere vitiated to a
smaller extent, are, although not so strikingly obvious, by no means
loss real. God has decreed that a certain proportion of oxygen con-
taining impure air, shall suffice for the a'ration of oidy a iixed and
determinate (piantity of venous blood. If we adapt our circumstances
to this law, we reap our reward in comfort and health. "Whereas, if
we neglect it, and persevere in breathing an atmosphere loaded with
putrifying animal eflluvia, aud containing less than the requisite (juan-
tity of oxygen, with more than the usual quantity of carbonic acid, we
have no more right to expect to enjoy health or physical energy, than
to expect a fire to burn without air, or a fish to live out of the water,
demonstrating very palpably that pure fresh air is more essential to
the life and health of the body than either the food we (!at or the
drink we consume. And it is equally so .' eference to the mind. It
is universally admitted that the brain is the seat of the mind — of its
thoughts , volitions and emotions. It is quite true that the brain and
the mind — that matter and spirit, arc two distinct and diametrically
opposite substances, but it is equally true that they are inseparably
united in man ; and that it is just as essential for the vigorous exercise
of the mental as it is for the physical powers, that the brain is preser-
ved in a healthful condition. And upon what does this depend ?
Plainly, like all the parts of the body, upon the state of the blood, and
all the more dependent because of the very delicacy of the structure.
It is computed that about the tenth part of the blood is indispensable
for the preservation of the vitality and healthful exercise of the Ijrain.
And we can easily perceive how^ speedily this quantity, when unsound,

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will aff'ect the wliole thiiikin;;,' powers. And in what phicos or oiivum-
.stanccs is the (iri;,'iiially pun; air most likely to hecome vitiated?
Plainly in those circuinstancos or places where the greatest (piantity
of carbonic acid is mamifju'tured, and that will necessarily hapi»en
where the largest number of human beings are collected in one place,
and no adecpiate means provided for the j)urifying of the atmosphere,
for the egress of the foul and the ingress of the fresh air. In the
<'ourse of an hour or so, in such an apartment, the weaker and more
delicate females become wati and palid, if they do not sink into a
swoon altogether ; a general lassitude and langour creep over the
great bulk of the audience ; the speaker is seized with dullness and
monotony; and as he increases in his lack of animation, so do his list-
eners in inattention and mental lethargy. How often are the finest
and most useful discourses, or lectures, or addresses, thereby marred
and damaged ! I low often is the lecturer or the speaker depreciated
or condemned, when the whole is traceable to purely physical causes,
when the whole failure ought to be laid at the door of the most culpa-
ble ignorance of the very rudiments of animal })hysiology ! But if
such are the effects of a vitiated atmosphere in a badly ventilated
apartment, where a large number assemble only occasiomilly, these
are far more disastrous, though not so palpable, in too many school-
houses. If there is one place of public resort — any one place where
human beings in large concourse assemble, and spend much of their
time together, demanding a greater share of attention in the matter of
vcMitilation than any other, that place is the school-house. The church
is generally occupied only once a wc^k, and that merely for two or
three, or, at most, four hours ; the worshippers chiefly consist of those
whose minds and bodies have reached maturity, and are thoroughly
consolidated ; and, therefore, not nearly so liable to suffer damage from
a noxious atmosphere. It is far otherwise with the school-room.
When the school is in session, the house is occupied six or seven nours
every day of the week but one, and occupied by those, too, whose
organs and faculties are all in a state of growth, and therefore sus-
ceptible of the slightest damaging influence ; and hence the soundness,
the high necessity of the remark just made respecting the commodious-
ness of the school -room. And is this really the ci^se ? Is there any
country yet upon the face of the earth where more attention is paid to
the size and ventilation of the school-house, than to any other class of
houses. Alas ! we fear that in too many instances the reverse of all
this is the truth. Within the last 25 or 30 years or so, an immense
change has taken place in the public mind, in connection with the

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whole subject of school accomraodiitioii. The neighbouring States,
and especially the States of Massachusetts and New York, have taken
the lead in this movement. The two States just mentioned have
uiMiuestioi bly done more in revolutionising the public mind and in
furthering improvements, in connection with the whole matter of
school premises, than all countries put together. And yet, even in
these States, the more recent reports go to show that many defects
and evils still exist respecting their school fabrics, and which they are
striving to supply and obviate. And if these evils abound in those
countries where the greatest improvements have taken place, what
may not reasonably be expected in countries where comparatively
little attention has been given to the general cause of education ! In
these British colonies, with the exception of a few scattered localities,
the state of our school houses is anything but respectable. Wliilst
the most rapid advancement has been effected in reference to private
dwelling houses, and public buildings of all sorts, and especially
cluu'ches, and even in reference to places of shelter for the lower
animals, nothing has as yet been done, on an enlarged scale, for the
amelioration of our school houses, even for the securing of the essential
requisites of some, as well as of ventilation, without which the principal
object of the school cannot possibly be served. In corroboration of
this statement, we have only to refer to the matter of dimension, and
especially to the lowness of the ceilings. It has been ascertained
upon a general survey that the average dimension of our school houses
does not exceed 20 x 24 on the ground, and 7 feet in height ; and yet
these houses during winter are occupied by an average attendance of
45 scholars, and oftentimes by 50 or even 60, and that, at the time
when ventilation, in consequence of the artificial temperature, is most
needed. By multiplying all these together, the length, breadth, and
height, it will be found that this building has a capacity of 3360 cubic
feet. Now how many scholars would such a supply of air sustain,
and sustain comfortably, at a three hours diet? "We have no hesita-
tion in stating in reply, that were 45 persons, whose lungs possess the
estimated capacity, placed in an air-tight room of the preceding dimen-
sions, and could they breathe pure air till it was all once respired, and
then enter upon its second respiration, they would all die with apoplexy
before the expiration of a three hours session. This is clearly
demonstrable. An act of respiration requires three seconds. We
breathe twenty times in a minute, or 1200 times in an hour, 36 cubic
inches is the average quantity of air inhaled at every such act, multiply
1200 by three for the. three hours session, aad this again by 45,

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llic miinhiT of scholars, and this agaui by 3G, for (h<' (jiiaiitity of cubic
iuclies iusplrcil, and l»riiig this to cubic feet, aiul the wliol(! will amount
to o'Mf) cubic feet, — just iifteen cubic fc(!t luorc^ than is necessary to
sustain healthy res2)iration. It is thus clear, that a school house, of
the. dimensions indicated, is altogether insullicient for the comfortable
maintenance of i') scholars.

From the nature of the case, however, these conditioii-; cannot be
Conveniently fullilled. There is no such thini; in thesis regions as air-
tight sch(jol-houses. Indeed, we have always looked u])oii it as no
orilinaiy boon, that amid tin; clamant deficiencie.^ of capacity in our
school rooms, there should exist, from the structure of the house, such
abundant provision for the admission of fresh atmosjdieric air. Rut,
besides all this, the air in a room is not resj)ired once, before a jiortion
of it is breathed the second or even tlu; third and fourth time. The
atmosphere, in conso(pience, is not suddenly changed from purity to
impurity, from a healthful to an infectious state. Were it so, the
change, being more perceptible, wotdd be seen and felt too, and a
remedy sought and applied. Uut because the change is gradual, it is
not the less disastrous in its conseciuc^nces. And all the more when
we lake into account the fact, that the derjingement resulting from
breaching impun , 'r in the case of children is j'ar greater than in the
case of adults, wi..ise constitutions are matured, and who are thereby
leso susceptible oi' injury. Aiul now need we depict the saddening and
desolating effects of this state of things ujjon the bodies both of teachers
and taught, and all tlu; more because the change in the atmosphere
from a healthy to a vitiated condition is not sudden but gradual, not
palpably felt at once, but creeps on impi'i'ceptibly. This is jdainly
the reason why so many children, whose health is sufli(;ient to enable
them to engage in other pursuits, but - .o are either uiud)le to attend
school at all, or, if they do persevere ir. their attendance, are subjected
to headaches, faintings and other species of sickness ; and in whom, we
believe, are abundantly sown, in early life, the fruitful seeds of disease
and ^jremature death. I'liis, too, is plainly the reason why teaching
has accjuired, and that jastly, the reputation (jf being uidu'althy, and
why we find so many ellieient tea(!hers disabled and laid on the shelf,
before they /each the meridian of their days, and others retiring in
fear and alarm, after they have been engag(3d but a few weeks or
months at the work. There is, however, not th'? sligntest reason why
the health either of pupil's or tea I's should sooner give way at this
than at any other business, provided tiie house in which it is carried on
is of proper si/e, aud suitably ventilated. The evil in (piest'ou can at

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Jc,u^\^ h(- romovcd \>y t'le mJidicatioii of a sijitable rcinody. But the
■"ffl'ct.s of this stat(! of tilings arc still more manifest on thn intellectual
])rogress of the pujjils, on the success of the most painstaking and
"uthusiastie teacher. Listen to the testimony of Combo on this
subject, that) v/hom there is not higher authority, touching any point of
uiiima! i>hysiology : — '• It is now ma!)y years since ou the occasion of a
visit to : .... of the classes of a great public seminary, my attention was
first stronglv attract(Ml to the injury resultinL'' to the mentaJ and bodily
finictions froin the inhalation of impure air. About l-OO boys were
issenibled in one large room. wh(>re they had been already confined
ticiirly an hour and a hrJf when F <Mitered. The windows were partly
ipeiied but notwlfhstiniding this, the cluinge from the fresh atraospher^^
;)utsi(h' to the close contaminated a'" within, was exceedingly obvious,
•nid, most certainly, was not without its eflfeet on the mental faculties,
iccom{»ani(>d as it w;)s by a sensation of fulness in the forehead, and
■<;liglu heudiiehe. The boys, with every motive to activity, that an
excellent sTsfeu) and an enthusiastic tea^dier could bestow, presented
in aspect of w(>!iriness and listlessness which the mental stimulus they
v/ere under could not, overcome." And if such were the effects on
the menial energies in a comparatively comfortable school Ivouse, such
IS the one here alluded to. and in an hour and a half after the business
uf the day had begun, what must it be in this and some of the adjoin-
ing provinces with too many of their schools ! The pupils may attend
and the teacher may carry on his operations for five or six hours
every <lay, but in so far as real work is concenuHl, as much may be
done, and that m()re perfectly, in one half, aye, in one third the time,
'uul tlnit too, without any physical or moral injury. And what does
all this den)onsfrat(?? Clt>arly and distinctly that two-thirds of the
time of both pupils and teacher are lost and worse tliau lost. Would
til par(Mits and trustees could be brought to consider this matter as
they ought I Would that they saw and thoroughly believed that
infinitely the most economical school houses are those which make
the best jwovislon for a due supj)ly of atmospheric air, whatever
the original cost !

Need we go a step farther and point out the effects of such .a state
of things on tlw order nml government of a school establishment? —
Contrast for this purpose the conduct of the children in a crow(h}d
'>chool-room durin,^'- the former and latter part of the forenoon Session,
'iiid still more during the forenoon and afternoon. At first all is
"ittentlon and mertal energy and proper behaviour. Gradually a
liingnor, a listl.ssness, an inactivity steals over them, which is followed

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by ail utter indifference to, and disciualilieation for, study. And this,
again, takt'-^ vent in mischievous plottings, and pranks and trickeries,
as the only alternative of the e-er active children. The teacher,
ignorant of the cause, and ascnblng the whole of this conduct to mental
or moral stupidity and indifference, under the influence of the same
hallucination, is all the while increasing in his acerbity and fretfulness,
till, at length, he can scarcely look with comjdaisance, even up' n good
behaviour, and, hi his peevishness, is disposed to magnify the most
trifling departure from the rules of propriety. He scolds, he threatens,
he dragoons, he flogs, but all to no purpose ; for the atmosphere, which
both scholars and teachers inhale, is becoming more and more con-
taminated, increasing the yawning and trickery of the one, and the
irritability and despotism of the other. And this repeated, day after
day, and week after week, what is the result? The scholars are
l)ecoming continually more ungovernable and the teacher move unflt
to govern, or, if government is maintained at all, it becomes the end
instead of the means, and the real work of education occupies a com-
paratively subordinate position.

But w .ave said enough on this theme. It must, we think, be now
apparent to every unprejudiced mind that the whole matter of the
proper ventilation of schools is no figment of the imagination, but
springs from the very constitution of our being ; that it is a thing
which has to do not merely with our physical or bwlily welfare, but
with the whole of our intellectual and moral culture ; and, consequently,
that the laws that regulate the same, eveiy thing connected with the
size and ventilation of the building, is not the result of mere arbitrary
caprice, or of morbid taste, but clearly deducible from the soundest
scientific principles. The various details connected with the size of
the school house, providing it with suitable ventilation, «St;c., will be
found under the practical dej)artmeut of school premises.

Tcmpe, ature of school house. On thia subject there is no need
of saying much. Full directions are also given under the practical
departmeuc, as to the best mode of preserving a uniformity of tempera-
ture. We have introduced the subject here, principally, for the purpose
of showing, that the proper temperature of the school room is not
more necessary for the welfare and comfort of the body, than it is for
the culture and improvement of the mind. Enough has bee ;i said on
the vast importance of preserving the due propwtion of oxygen iu
the school room, and the necessity of ^aarding against the contamina-
ting influence of the carbonic acid exhaled by the children. Bat
there is another way of destroying this proportion, Mid that is by the

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

fi9

carbonizing of the atmosphere through an overheated temperature,
especially when no means are employed to preserve the humidity of
the air. This is exceedingly deleterious to the health, and equally so
to all mental application and progress. This, therefore, must be care-
fully guarded against, by ventilation, by the vaporation of pure
water, and other artificial means. But, again, it is indispensable
for the intellectual progress as w^ell as for the bodily comfort of the
pupils and teachers, that the temperature be kept uniform. If it is
too low, especially in a climate such as exists in B. N. America, where
there are such extremes, and, oftentimes, the most rapid transitions, the
body soon becomes so uncomfortable and the circulation so sluggish,
that the mind is, in a great measure, incapacitated for work. If, on
the contrary, the temperature is too high, the circulation will soon rise
beyond its usual rate ; and the mind being well exercised, the current
of the blood will naturnlly be directed to the brain — which will l)e put
upon the rack ; and this will inevitably le.ad to mental reaction and
exhaustion. For well sustained vigorous action, and, by consequence,
a large amount of good work, a well regulated, uniform temperature
is absolutely necessary.

Light of the school-house. A due supply of this commodity is not
less necessary than an equal temperature for carrying on the real work
of the school. We all know the effect of light on the vegetable and
animal kingdom — ujion all oi'ganized existences. Exclude the light
from the former, and plants are not only stripped of their verdant
hue, but they lose, in a great measure, their nutritive qualities. And
so is it with the animal race. If even they sjiend a considerable por-
tion of their time deprived of the cheerful rays of the sun, the effects
will ere long be apparent on their physical frame. Colliers, miners,
and others immured in dark lanes, in large cities, or in deep cellars,
are notoriously wan, and pallid, and sickly. And if such are the
effects on the physical frame, not less marked are they on the mental.
We believe it will be found, as a general rule, that all who sj>end much
of their time in pits or cellars are dwarfish in their intellectual
powers, and utuisually lull and stupid in their apprehensive ea{)acity.
And the reason of this is obvious. The food int,ended to supply, and
exercise, and strengthen the perce[)tive faculty, is all but entirely cut
off; and as this is one of the grand inlets of knowledge, not only docs
the power itself remain in a great measure inactive, but it oi)erate8
injuriously pon all the other faculties — (he abstractive, the reason-
ing. &c. IIow patheticany does the blind j)oet lament the Joss of t]ii«
organ ; —

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" From tlie cliocrfu! ray.s of iiu'U

" Cut off; and for tlic book of knowledge fair

"Presented \vitl>. a universal blank

" Of Nature's works ; to nie expunti,ed and ra/.o<l,

" And' wisdom at one entrance quite shut out."

Tn tvMitioii to .all this, we know that tlvc cho'crful rays of the am-.:
produce a most wonderful eff(H;t ii[)oii our s[)irits — that they rouse te*
highest physical excitement, and must therefore exert no small inllueuce
on our thinking powers. It is thus perfectly evident that a due supply
of solar light, and that properly adniiniste'rcd, is indispensahly necessary
for the. school-room, and that not h;ss for tlu^ mental than for tlui phy-
sical welfare of its inmates.

Tlie furniture of the sch^iul-rooni.. Supporthiy or hony syston of
organs. No one, we think, will call in quci^tiun th(3 soundness of
the position, that the furttiturc' of tlve school-room ought to be
constructetl and adjusted in the way best fii:tt!d. to secun; the
health and comfort of the scholars, and thereby further, to a certain
extent, at least, tlic end (lontcm.plated in the edtication of the young.
In order to this, it is manifest that the seats and desks ought to
be regularly graduated, according to t?\e size of the pupils who are to
occupy them. The necessity of tliis will appear by adverting for a
little to *he bones ov supporting system of oi'gans — the system mainly
involved in the matter of furniture.

Every department in the kingdouj of natures has its approj)riate
supj)ort. The soil derives its adhesiveness and tenacity from the
alumina it contains. The stalks of plants are mainly suj)p(;rt<,'d by
silicious matter. The siipi>orting system of organs iu tin; animal, is
the bones.

The bones in the human body amount to about 2()0. This large
jiumber is evidently owing to the incalculable variely of movement.-;
required b} man ; and they are so admiral)ly coimected by artietdations,
that they admit (/f precisely that kind of motion v. liich is requisite, —
The advantages of this ariangement are as adni'irul)le as they arc
obvious. Had the osscdus l'rani(!-work consisted of one entire pieccv
not only would men and animals have been incapable of motion, but
every ext< "ual shock woidd have b(;eu eontmunic;ited at once to
the whole -.tern. By the division of the parts, however, and by I Ik
interposition of elastic cartilages and ligament^, at the joints, free and
extensive motion is secured; and the impetus of every external shock
is deadened in its force and diffused over tlu body, — in the .same .vay^
aa tA) a person riding ' • liis carriage, tin.' jolt of a wheel passing ovcr^.^

SCIENCK OF EDUCATION.

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stone, is (liiniiiished by being e([u:illy diffused ovvv tlie wliitle vehiele
by reason of tlie elastleity of the springs.

Bone.< consist of two kinds of sui)stane(!s. animal and earthy,
the fornu-r imparting life and growth, and the latter, solidity and
strength. The proportion of these substances varies at ditl'erent ages.
In childhood and youtli, the animal preponderate, and, in more matur<
years, the; earthy ; and, hence, in early life, the bones are less heavy,
more {)lial)le and ela.sti(\ and possessed of greater vitality; and, in old
age, their sensibility is diminished and u lower degree of life exists. —
And hence, too. it is that bones broken in youth reunite in on(;-luilf
the time required in a more advanced period of life.

Ami wluit is th(^ gr(';it and important lesson taught parents and
teachers l»y thi- diver>ity of com[)osition in the bones? If tlie bones
of the young are. in con>e(pi(!nee of the preponderance of animal matter,
more elastic and flexible, then it is clear, that every means ought to
be employed for the purpose of preventing their con(')rtiou au<l curva-
ture. Kxercise, here, as in every other part of our pliysical frame, is
iiidispi'ii-^ably necessary to give size and strength to (he 1)iUic>, and to
deposit tliose very substances of which they are maiidy compos<'(l. By
a law of our constitution, when any part of the system is active, it
attracts to itself, by the simple stimulus of that activity, an inci'eascd
supply of blood and nervous energy. The former rej)airs the waste of
suhstanct! which action produce's, ami the latter gives an increased
tone in harmony witli the greater call made ou its powers. If the
exercise is momentary and not repeated, the extraoi'dinary flow of
blood soon disappears, and tlu; nervous power falls to the usual staiul-
ard. But if it is cnntinued for a time and recurred to at re<fular
intervals, a more active nutrition is establishe(l. a [)ennanently greater
supply of blood enters the vessels even during the intervals of inaction;
and an increase of development takes place, attended with increased
facility and vigour of function. The law of exercise, so influencing
nutrition and fuiu'tion. is uni\'ersal and applies to the osseous, as nuu'h
as to any f)ther system. If the bones are duly exercised, their active
nutrition goes on. and they ac(p\ire increased dimensions, strength and
solidity. If they arc not exercis(>d, the stimulus reipiired for the
supply of food to them, becomes insunicient ; imperfect nutrition takes
place ; iiiid debility, softness, and unfitness for duty ensue.

Ibit while exercise is thus indispensably necessary to impart solidity
and strength to the bones, it behovc^s to b(> wisely and jn<liciously
.tdaptel to their condition at the elitlerent periods of life. How many
iiurents. for examjile, disregai'ding the I'lct th."t the bones are eompa-

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ratively soft and pliable in iufancy, and in their anxiety to see their
darling little objects walk without support, are continually soliciting
attempts at standing or walking, long before the bones have acquired
sutficient power of resistance, and the muscles sufficient power of con-
traction, to cope with this law of gi-avitation. The natural conse-
quence is a curvature of the bone, which yields just like an elastic
stick bending under a weight. The two ends approach nearer each
other than they ought to do ; and the muscles, to accommodate them-
selves to the change, become shorter on one side and perha])s longer
o)i the other, each losing part of its efficiency in the unnatural change
which it undergoes. But even after the young are capable of sustain-
ing some pressure, every means should be used and every pains taken
to preserve tbe straightness of the bones of the young. For this pur-
pose they sho;ild be made to stand, and sit, and walk, in an erect
position. This will enable the vertebral column to accomplish the
high and important ends for which its whole construction was evidently
intended, and preserve the bones of the upper and lower extremities
in a vigorous and healthful condition.

And now, it may be asked, Wliat is the provision required for secu-
ring all these objects, in so far as the furniture, seats, desks, &c., of
the school-room are concerned ? In reply to this question, we would
say, first, that the seats be exactly proportioned to the age and size of
the scholars, — that they be thoroughly gi'aded. In a miscellaneous
school, the height of the seats, to allow each child to rest his foot
firmly on the floor, should range from seven to fourteen inches. If
this is not attended to, — if the seats are so high that the feet of the
children cannot reach the floor, not only will they '^e uncomfortable
and restless, but their thigh bones, from the wei\jht bearing upon
them, will be in danger of becoming curved. But not only should the
feet of the children rest gently on the floor, — their backs should also
be well supported. For this end, the seats should be furnisheil with
pi'operly constructed backs, and of such a height as will afford a plea-
sant and agreeable suppoi't to the small of the back — or the lumbar
region, as it is called. If these things are not provided for, — if the
seats are too high, and the back, besides, unsupj)orted, the most dis-
astrous consequences may ensue. The children will naturally stoop
forward in order to balance themselves ; and thus the shoulders will
become rounded, their chests contracted, their constitutions enfeebled,
and not unfrecjuently the seeds of pulmonary disease deposited.

Every care should be employed in the construction of the desks,
that is, they should be made exactly to correspond with the height of

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

the seats. If tliey are too low, a stooping posture will be induced. If
they are too high, the effect will be the elevation of one shoulder and
the depression of the other ; and tiius a permanent curvature of the
vertebral column may be produced. To avoid these evils, the desks
must be so constructed, as that both the arms shall be kept on the
same level and rest etjually on the table ; and their height such as that
they shall strike half-way between the elbow and the arm-pit as the
arm hangs by the side.

"■ The secret of posture," says Mayhew, *' consists in avoiding all
bud positions, and not continuing any one j)osition too long. The
ordinary carriage of the body is an object worthy of the attention of
every parent and instructor. The more favorable impression which a
man of erect and commanding attitude is sure to make, is not to be
overlooked. But there is a greater good than this ; for he that walks
erect, enjoys better health, possesses increased powers of usefulness,
realizes more that he is a man, and has more to call forth gratitude to
a heneficent Creator, than he who attempts an oblique posture."

These are some of the reasons for the grading of the furniture in
the school room, — reasons, it will be observed, founded upon no whim,
or caprice, oi fancy, but upon one of the first principles of animal

physiology *•> ' ^le of the bdves in the rising generation. And if

this expf ■ . J of great service in securing the health, the command-
ing mien and the physical comfort of the human species, it contributes
indirectly, yet powerfully, to their intellectual and moral advancement;
for whatever gives strength and stamina to the body, must necessarily
affect the mind, and render it far more capable of exerting its
energies, — of doing justice to itself. Besides, there arc important
branches of education, such as penmausliip, drawing, &c., which can
not be properly taught without a gradation of seats and desks. The
coustruction of the furniture, and its proper adjustment in the school
room, and indeed the whole practical details for the carrying out of
this department, will be found in the chapter on school premises.

The cleanliness and tidiness of the persons of the scholars — Cutane-
ous system. With an ample and well ventilated school-room, with the
seats and desks all nicely graded and arranged, we are in a position to
go on and consider physical education in its more direct bearings on the
scholars themselves. We have erected our workshop, and provided
the befitting tools, and are now prepared to proceed with the actual
work — to welcome, as it were, our customers at the door. But before
they cross the threshold — before they are admitted within the pre-
cincts of the school establishment, it must be seen that the scholars are

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clc.iii, and uciit, and orderly in tlicir persons; and this not inoroly for
tilt! sake of eonunon decency, but for the preservation of tin; health of
the body, and the invij^orating of the mental powers. And on what
does this depend, or wliat renders all this necessary? It depends on
the nature of the skin or the cutaneous system of organs.

Throughout the whole domain of nature there is going on a never
ceasing process of waste and rej)air — of decay and renovation —
of degradation and ehnation. This is api)arent on a grand scale
in the disintegration and consolidation of the material parts of crea-
tion through the medium of acpieous and igneous agency. It is
apparent, too, throughout the whole organized world. In the animal
kingdom, for example, as long as life continues, a copious exhalation,
without a moment's intermission, is going on ; not a movement
can )ii p<;rformed which does not, in some degree, increase the cir-
culation and add to the gtuieral waste. Now, there is a set of
organs exactly fitted for this object, just as there is one for supjdy-
ing, secreting and preparing the raw materials ; and one of the most
important of these is the skin. Physiologists generally consider the
skin as composed of three parts — the cuticle, the mu(X)us mem-
brane or n'i/^ murosii/n, and the cufis vera or true skin. The skin is
the outlet through which a large })roportion of the waste, of the body
passes. The means by which it effects this end, is that of innu-
merable glands, called the sebaceous or oily and perspiratory glands.
The fornnu" are spread over the parts of the skin most exposed
to the changes of tt'mperature and moisture, and are made up of
that oily fluid with which the skin is bedewed and rendered soft. The
latter separates from tlie blood the perspiration or sveat. They are
exceedingly numerous, being about two thousand to every scpiare inch
of skin, or five millions, or, according to some, seven millions in the
natural covering of the body. These discharge tluimselves either by
sensible or insciiisible perspiration. Every one knows that whv.n the
body is overheated by exercise, a copious sweat breaks out, which, by
evaporation, carries off the excess of heat, and pnxhices .an agreeable
feeling of coolness and refreshment. This is called sensible perspira-
tion, because it is ajiparent. But in the ordinary state of the system,
the skin is constantly giving out a large quantity of waste materials in
the form of vapour, which, being carried off by the surrounding air, is
invisible to the eye, and hence is called insensible pctrspiration. Tliis
cutaneous exhalation is of immense importatx^e to the welfare of the
system at larger, and has led to many attempts to form an accurate
estimate of its amount; but so many difficulties have stood in the wav

SCIKNCK or KDUCATIO.V.

of obtainiiiif jn-ofisc results, uud tlie (lirtiirciico in ditfcrctit fonstitu-
tiuiis, :ui(l oven in the siini(> person at different times, l)eing so great,
that we must ho satisfied uitli an approximation to tlio truth. What-
ever he tho nature of the condition of tlio constitution at tlie time, it is
now agreed b^ all eminent jihysifaans, that uetwi-en .'iO and 40 ounces
ot" matter pass off through tlu^ skin of an adulf eveiy 21 hours. And
\vli;it is tho nature of the material thus exhaled? It is composed
partly of watery vapour, and partly of earthy suhstanees, which latter
cuiiNist mainly of concentrated animal substances, — a very energ(!tic
puisun.

liut the skin is not only a powerful exhalant, it is also an absorbent.
By means of this funciion, substances plaee<l in eontact with the skin
are taken up aud carried into the g(!nei'al eir('ula.tion ; either to be
appro[)riatt,'d to some new puri)Ose, or to bo spe(Mlily thrown out of the
body. This process is carried on by the blood vesscds, wliich are
ramilied in a close network innnediately under the cuticle, and also by
aiii)lh(!r class of ssels called tho absorbents. Of the absorbing
power of the skin, we have a familiar example in the process of vacci-
nation, as a protection against small pox. This process, as is well
known, is the insertion of a small (piantity of vaccine matter inider
tlie cuticle! on the surface of tlu; true skin, and the leaving of it there.
Ill a short time it Is acted u[)on and taken into the system by the
cutaneous vessels.

Such is a brief exposition of tho structure and functions of the skin ;
and brief though that exposition be, it is, wo trust, sufficient to show
tlie imporlant practical bearing of this system of organs on the whole
subject of i)liysical education. It is not only a (h.'cent and becoming
tiling, that tho face and hands of tho scholars are clean, but it is indis-
lauisable for the body's welfare, that the whoh. person is cleansed, if
not daily, vin-y fre<iuently. Tt is pt;rfectly evident that, if such a pro-
cess of ablutions is not regularly administered, tho most injurious
conseepiences will ensue. Tho residuum, or remains of tho perspired
matter and other accidental impurities d posited on the surface of the
body, as a matter of course, will be absorbed or taken back into the
liody. This will prevent the noxious substances from being exhaled,
drive them back into tho system, and tlcroby produce iiifbumiation,
fever, with a whole train of the most baneful eirects. But men when
these effects do not follow, tho body is rendered uncomfortable, a care-
lessness, a slovenliness, and a sluggishness an; superinduced, which
enfeeble .dike the physical and mental energies. We know nothing
bettor calculated to draw forth and to rouse into lii<iliest and most

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determinocl activity both of body and mind, than the preservation of
the healthy action of the skin. When the immortal Nelson was on
the eve of enterin*^ into an engagement, he nsnally arrayed himself in
full court attire, that he might thereby brace himself both physically
and mentally for the conflict, on which he was entering.

Thus an immense deal depends on the healthful circulation of every
part of the surface of the body, and what are the mejins to be used
for securing this important end ? They are proper bodily exercise,
suitable clothing, bathing and friction. The first of these points will
receive a full discussion under the following section. As to the matter
of suitable clothing, its necessity from the very nature of the case, is
abundantly obvious. If man lives in an atmosphere generally several
degrees colder than his own body, the means of preventing his being
cooled too rapidly are forcibly pressed upon his attention ; and, as the
skin is the most ex[)osed j)art, these means must apply chiefly to its
protection. Hence, the necessity of clothing, especially in temperate
and cold climates. Hence, too, the influence of unsuitable or inade-
quate clothing in impairing, and of suitable in protecting and restoring
the functions of the skin, at all ages, in all ranks of society, and at all
seasons. For this purpose, the articles of dress ought to be as light
as possible, bad conductors of heat, so as to afford protection against
sudden changes of temperature, and of so porous a nature as to admit
of the easy passage ot the insensible perspiration. Of the various
materials of clothing in common use, none presents these advantages
combined in so high a degree as flannel ; and, consequently, as a general
rule, no other kind of substance can equal it in suitableness for being
worn in contact with the skin, the chief object of protection. But
whatever is worn should be frequently changed, ventilated and washed
to free it from the impurity, necessarily arising from so constant and
extensive an exhalation as that from the skin. It is an excellent plan
in the case of flannel, instead of wearing the same garment for several
successive days, as is generally done, either to change it very frequently,
or to make use of two sets, each being worn and aired every alternate
day. A frequent change is perhaps the preferable arrangement.

But if the frequent change and washing of clothes for removing the
saline and animal impurities, caused by perspiration, is essential to the
health of the s^ it is equally certain that frequent bathing o" washing
of the skin is not less indispensable for removing the impurities
adhering to its surface, and which, if allowed to accumulate, would
tend to obstruct its pores, impede its functions and disturb its health.
For general use, the tepid or warm bath seems much more suitable

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SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

tli:in tlio cold, especially in winter, antl tor those wlio are not robust
and full of animal life. When the constitution is not vigorous enough
to receive reaction after the cold bath, as indicated by a warm glow
over the surface, its use inevitably does harm. A vast number of
persons, and especially of those leading a sedentary life, are in this
condition ; while, on the contrary, there are few indeed who do not
derive evident advantage from the regular use of the tepid bath, and
still fewer who are hurt by it. When the health is good and the
bodily powers sniriciently vigorous, the cold bath during summer, and
•lie shower te[)id bath in winter, may serve every beneficial purpose.
But it should never be forgotten, that they arc lOo powerful in their
agency, to be used with safety by every one, an'i especially in very
cold weather. Just as cold bathing is influential in restoring lu^alth,
when judiciously used, so is it hurtful, w\cn resorted to without dis-
crimination ; and invalids, therefore, should never use it without the
sanction of their medical advisers.

Another valuable means of keeping up an equal circulation and a
due degi'ee of perspiration over the whole surface of the skin, and at
the same time of aiding in the removal of the impurities which attach
to it, is the diligent, daily use of friction, by means of a flesh-brush, or
horse-hair glove, or coarse towel. To derive every possible advantage
from friction, it should be steadily continued every night and morning
till a glow is excited over the whole surface, and the skin acquires a
soft, velvety feeling. It should also be practised by the individual
himself, and not by an assistant. This practice, then, serves for exer-
cise, and to a sedentary person, when perseveringly persisted in for
months, becomes its most invaluable substitute. In delicate states of
the constitution, when a great susceptibility to cold exists, and in all
varieties of nervous depression, with a dry, cold skin, its usefulness
can scarcely be overrated. But then it is one of those preservatives
or remedies which requires time to produce its effects. That friction is
useful also in removing impurities from the surface, is evident to every
ae who chooses to apply a hair glove to his own skin, after passing a
day or two without either friction or ablution. He will then speedily
find the glove become whitened from the small powder scales which it
detaches from the cuticle, and experience a very perceptible increase
of comfort. From the equalizing action, by friction, on the circulation
and nerves of the skin, it farther acts as a pleasing sedative after men-
tal excitement or anxiety, and thus favours quiet and refreshing sleep,
where otherwise none might be obtained.

The attention of the scholars to the work in hand—Miitctdar system.

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The children, all neat, and tidy, Jiud dean in their i)erson, are now
assembled in a commodious, well ventilated and thoroughly graded
school-room, and that for a distinct and specific object. 15ut a vast
majority of the inmates of every school-room realize comparatively
little of the importance of the object for which they are ass(Miibled ;
and instead of diligently applying themselves to the discharge of their
duties, with a few honorable exceptions, they are careless and uncon-
cerned ; so that the teacher has not merely to labour for the accom-
plishment of that object, but to secure their attention thereto. Various
means may and ought to be resorted to for this purpose : such as
awakening an interest in the branches of knowledge taught, and that
by the adoption of particular methods. — appeals to conscience, — the
sympathy of numbers, — the exennse of legitimate discipline, and the
like. There is, however, a distinct class of means, but rarely resorted
to, and which, when judiciously employed, seldom fails to further this
important point — the attention of the pupils to the particular study in
which they are engaged, — we refer to those means by which the mind
may be operatinl upon through the medium of the body, and, ospoclally,
through the muscular system of organs, the most important of any we
have yet consiilerc<l, atFecting, and that most extensively, the nervous
system, and that again the brain, the seat of thought and volition. We
crave, then, the special attention of our readers whilst we lay before
them a brief outline of the physiology of the muscles of the human
body, and the various modes of exercising the same, not only for the
purpose of securing their development and strength, but a larger
amount of intellectual and moral labour.

The muscles, of which there are in the human body upwards of 100
named, are com])Osed of fd)res and blood, pervaded by nervous matter,
and separated from one another by finely attenuated membranes.
They are made up of three parts, — the two ends, called the origin and
insertion, consisting of sinews and tendons, and the middle or fleshy
part. They are divided into two classes — the voluntary and the
involuntary. By the latter are meant those muscles that act indepen-
dently of the will, such as those of digestion, circulation and respira-
tion. By the former are understood those that perform their functions
by an act of the will. That faculty of the mind, called the will, operates
upon the brain, upon a class of nerves, called efferens ; and these
nerves supply the stimulus by which the class of muscles designed for
a particular end or movement is brought into play.

And how, it may be asked, do these muscles perform their functions?
By the law of contractility, or that law by which the muscles are

SCIKNCK OF KDUCATION.

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shortened by the &welliiig out of the middle or fleshy part ; and, by
this means, the bone is moved and action is elfected.

These muscles grow and strengthen by exercise or use, by the
diligent observance of the law of their being, activity and repose, con-
traction and relaxation, by the regular and constant discharge of their
iipI)ro}>riate functions. This is exemplified and illustrated at all ages
and in all circumstances. If exercise be withheld from the child, the
muscular frame is stunted and enfeebled. In the adult, the inaction
causes the muscles to shrivel and waste. If a lind) only be kept inactive,
its muscles wither, whilst the rest of the frame is vigorous and growing.
A broken arm, bound \\\^ and kept unmoved for a month or more, comes
out at the end of that time, scarcely the half of what it was, the muscles
wasted away and reduced to a few slender iibres. And, hence, the
practice, in the city of London, of beggars manufacturing shrivelled
arms and legs, and giving themselves out as disabled soldiers or sailors,
in order the more etfiectually to excite the commiseration of the bene-
volent and charitable. Particular avocations, too, lev}' an impost on
certain muscles, and leave the others in a great measure unaflected ; and
llie result is, that the former become strong, athletic and brawny, whilst
the latter are weak and slender ; as may be seen by contrasting the
muscles of the arm of the blacksmith with those of a man who follows
a sedentary occupation.

And what is the cause of all this ? I^y motion or the use of the
muscles, the circulation is active and vigorous, the blood issues into
every crevice or interstice of the fibrous substances, the stimulating
element is preserved in full and eihcient operation ; and thus the
muscles enlarge amain, and ai-e gradually and steadily developed. And
this exercise not only exerts a powerful influence over the muscular
hut over every other system of organs. It promotes, as we have just
stated, circulation ; circulation increases respiration ; respiration, exhal-
ation; and exhalation, digestion ; — and all these, again, reciprocally
operate upon the muscles — and the muscles, upon the cerebrum, the
seat of thought.

But this law of contractility has its bounds or limits, andean only be
maintained by the constant alternation of relaxation or rest. The very
conlinuousness of this exercise is fatiguing and exhaustive. Let any
set of muscles be placed in a state of severe tension, and retained in
that position for a lengthened period, and soon will the most arduous
toil be felt to be light in comparison. You may easily put this fact to
the test, by attempting to hold the arm extended at a right angle to the
body, for the short space of ten minutes. He, whose muscles, if indeed

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capable of the exertion, do not feel sorely fatigued at the end of that
time, may think himself very fortunate in possessing a powerful consti-
tution. "What happens to an arm, may to the whole body. And if the
entire muscular frame be overworked by efforts which are either
excessive or prolonged, the result must be debility, trembling, exhaus-
tion, faintness, and even death. Let such overworking be habitual,
and, both in men and animals, the most disastrous consequences will
inevitably ensue.

It is clear, then, that the real health and strength of the muscles
depend on the due alternation of contraction and relaxation, of activity
and repose. A certain amount of exercise is indispensably necessary,
and the greater the variety the more beneficial will that exercise be.
But relaxation is just as much needed as contraction, repose as activity,
that the restorative power of the muscles may be preserved, rallied
and reinvigorated. In one word, if the muscular system of organs is
to serve the great end of their being, they must be exercised, that is
the law of contractility must be constantly attended to.

And, here, it may be asked. What are the rules that ought to guide
us in this exercise, that it may be productive of its legitimate benefit ?
Keeping in view the condition of muscular action as already set forth,
it must appear obvious to all, that this exercise, as Combe expresses it,
spring from, and be continued under, the influence of an active, nervous,
or mental stimidus. This point scarcely requires illustration. Every-
body knows how wearisome and disagreeable it is to saunter along,
without having some object to attain ; and how listless and unprofitable
a walk taken against the inclination, and merely for exercise, is, com-
pared to the same exercise when made in pursuit of an object on which
we are Intent. The difference is simply, that, in the former case, the
muscles are obliged to work without that full nervous impulse which
nature has decreed to be essential to their healthy and energetic action,
and that, in the latter, that impulse is in full and harmonious operation ;
the great superiority of active sports, botanical and eoological excur-
sions, gardening, &c., as means of exercise, over more monotonous
movements is referable to the same cause. Every kind of youthful
play and mechanical operation interests and excites the mind, as well
as occupies the body ; and by thus placing the muscles in the best
position for wholesome and beneficial exertion, enables them to act
without fatigue for a length of time; which, if occupied in mere walk-
ing for exercise, would utterly exhaust their powers. Hence it is that
the elastic spring, the bright eye and cheerful glow of persons thus
excited, form a perfect contrast to the spiritless aspect of many of our

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

boarding school processions of girls ; and the results, in point of health
and activity, are not less different.

But, in the second place, we would remark that this exercise,
that it may produce the desired effect, should involve as tni'ch variety
of movement as possible. The sphere of action of each muscle is strictly
local, and it is only by calling them all into play that a general effect
can be produced. Thus, by much walking, we may largely develope
the muscles of the legs, and yet leave those of the arms and chest
comparatively feeble ; or by wielding a ponderous hammer or rowing
a boat, we may develope those of the chest and arms, whilst the general
circulation is languid. For the same reason, a slow formal walk, with
demuro look and motionless arms, is much less useful than a smart walk
or run, in which we cannot refrain from exercising both the arms and
chest. Exercise, therefore, is most beneficial when all the muscles, or
as many as possible are called into play.

The next regulation for exercise is, that it should always be
proportioned^ in amount, to the age, strength, state of constitution, and
former habits of the individual. A person accustomed to daily activity,
will feel invigorated by a walk of four or five miles in the open air ;
whereas the same distance will weaken another who has not been in
the habit of walking at all. But instead of inferring from this, as is
often done, that exercise, in the open air, is positively hurtful to the
latter, reason and experience coincide in telling us, that he has erred
only in over-tasking the powers of his system, and that to acquire
strength and activity, he ought to have begun with one mile, and to
have gradually extended his walk in proportion as the muscles become
invigorated by the increased nutrition, consequent on well regulated
exercise. A person recovering from fever begins by walking across
his room, perhaps ten times, in a day, and gradually extends to twenty
or thirty times, till he gains strength to go into the open air. On
going out, a walk of ten minutes proves sufficient for him at first ; but
by degrees his flesh and strength increase, and his exercise is prolong-
ed, till he arrives at his usual standard. Such is the order of nature ;
but many sedentary people have no patience for such slow progress.
When urged to take exercise, they grudge the trouble of going out for
a short time, and think that if a walk of half a mile does them good,
one of a whole mile will do more ; and when they suffer from the
error, they shelter their ignorance under the general assumption that
exercise does not agree with them ! Hence it follows that to be bene-
ficial, exercise should always be proportioned to the strength and con-
stitution — that it should be regularly resumed after a sufficient interval
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of rest, and that it should be joined ^ ith a mental and nervous stim-
ulus.

Another matter that ought to be attended to in exercise, and
the only other one our space will allow us to notice is, the time at which
exercise should be taken. Those who are in perfect health, may engage
in exercise at almost any hour except immediately after a full meal ;
but those who are not robust ought to confine themselves within nar-
rower limits. To a person in full vigour, a good walk in the country
before breakfast may be highly beneficial and exhilarating; while to
some invalids and delicate persons it will prove more detrimental than
useful, and will induce a sense of weariness which will spoil the plea-
sure of the whole day. To some, however, who have no appetite on
rising, a short walk in the open air before breakfast proves very
beneficial. Exercise should be resorted to only when the system is
sufficiently vigorous to be able to meet it. In delicate constitutions,
this is the case at the end of from two to four hours after a moderate
meal, and, consequently, the forenoon is the best time for them. If
exercise be delayed, till some degree of exhaustion from the want of
food has occurred, it speedily dissipates instead of increasing the
strength which remains, and impairs rather than promotes digestion.
For the same reason, exercise immediately before me.als, uidess of a
very gentle description, is injurious and an interval of rest ought always
to intervene. Active exercise ought to be equally avoided immediately
after a heavy meal. In such circumstances the functions of the diges-
tive organs are in the highest state of activity ; and if the muscular
system be then called into considerable action, the withdrawal of the
vital stimuli of the blood and nervous influence from the stomach to
the extremities, is sufficient almost to stop the digestive process.

But it is time we make some practical application of the principle?
laid down to the matter of school management and school teaching. —
In this respect the muscular system of organs is vastly the most impor-
tant of any we have yet considered, whether we regard it in the light
of a means or an end, directly or indirectly. Looking at it, as an end,
we may remark first, that muscular action deeply affects the whole matter
of the health and growth of the body of the young. It enlarges and
renders robust the muscles themselves, but it does far more. Muscular
action exerts a most powerful influence over the whole of the physical
frame and especially over the nutritive system of organs. There is not,
in fact, any one organ of the body that is not less or more affected by
it. And what is the inference naturally deducible from all this. —
Plainly that every thing iu school ought to be avoided, that has the

SCIKNCE OT EDUCATION.

smallest tendency to run counter to the due exercise of the muscles. —
Instead of keeping the children pent up in one posture for one, two or
even three horrs, with the most tremendous threats if they dare to alter
it, they ought to be required to change every ten minutes or so, and
every facility or encouragement affbrtled for this purpose. Instead of
<'ontravening the law of nature,— the law of contraction and relaxation,
it is the bounden duty, as well as the highest interest, of every teacher
to direct and control that law, that he mav render it subservient to the
furtherance of his educational plans and prbceedings. For this purpose
he ought sedulously to watch the condition of his pupils, and even
during the time of their recitations and before they evince any symptoms
of exhaustion he ought, by the use of certain signs — which may be
i-alled into requisition without the utterance of a syllable — to require
tliem to change their position. If they are standing, he may require
them to be seated, and '-ice versa. Whatever is the class of muscles
that has been the longest period in a sUite of contraction, he must take
<'are that these are relaxed, and the opposing ones called into exercise.
Unless the trainer adopt this course, the scholars will, in all probability,
take the law into their own hands, and, despite all his remonstrances,
yield compliance to its dictates, though it be in the way of itile, mischiev-
ous pranks, or unruly conduct, or actual iH^bellron. And we know not,
which of the two is, in these circumstances, the more reprehensible —
the scholar in his violation of the rules of the establishment, or the
teacher in his selt-complacent yet iaexcusable ignorance.

But, again, muscular action may be viewed as a means as well as an
t?nd, and, wlten properly regulated, will secu7-e a far greater amount of
\Utention and intellectual labour. The connection between the eye
and the mind is close and influential. AVhen the eye of the listener is
steadily fixed upon the whole countenance of the speaker, a closer
attention and a readier access to the understanding and heart are secur-
ed and maintained. Ilcnce the vast superioiity of a viva voce address
when due justice is done to it — that is, when the outer man of the
speaker corresponds with the inner, as comparc<l with the dead letter
o( the book. The teacher is bound to avail himself of tliis means.
He should never, for example, commence a recitation lesson, or engage
in any exercise, without first putting his class in order, that is, fixing
them in the position most natural and befitting, and, especially with
the eye, either directed to the book or to his (the teacher's) eye. He
■cannot, it is true, control the mind, but he can secure the fixedness of
the eye, and this is one powerful means by which access is obtained to
?lic underst<mding and the heart.

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But muscular action operates more directly on the mind tliromjh the
medium of the nervous system. It is well known that the whole mus-
cular part of the physical frame is pervaded by the nerves — that
there is, in fact, a set of nerves belonging to every muscle, and that
there can be no motion of the muscle without the nerves being
affected. Tlie change thus effected is communicated by cords of
nerves to the cerebrum or seat of thought; and thus a change, too, is
produced in that delicate piece of organization, and a fresh and health-
ful impulse imparted to its functions. By this means, too, the spiritual
or thinking part of man's nature is rested or relaxed, and thereby
better fitted and prepared for another and more determined effort.
Thus it is manifest that every muscular movement deeply affects the
powers of the mind, and procures a much larger amount of intellectual
labour. And from all this will be seen the vast importance of phy-
sical in-door exercises. These exerci.-'es may vary according to cir-
cumstances. Whenever the teacher observes anything like general
inattention on the part of any class or section of his scholars, instead
of scolding, or threatening, or flagellating, he should immediately call
upon them to assume their right position, or to change their position,
or to go through the various motions, first, second, third, &c., or to sing
a song, or to take a march, which, if possible, should be accompanied
with music, either vocal or instrumental. These exercises should be
chosen by the teacher, who takes the lead in them all, according to the
condition or circumstances of the children, care being taken to diversify
them less or more on every repetition ; for the moment a dull, monot-
onous routine is fallen into, that moment do they lose their effect. —
See outline of these exercises, both in-door and out, under chapter
on Management of Schools.

Need we state further, that these exercises produce a wholesome
moral injltience in every well-conducted educational establishment, not
merely in acting as a preventive against disorder and confusion, but in
influencing indirectly the moral faculty. The scholars, generally
speaking, take delight in these physical exercises — readily and cor-
dially obey whatever instructions or orders are given regarding them ;
and thus they acquire a habit of obedience which is easily transferred
both to intellectual and moral subjects and pursuits.

Regulation oj study — Nervous system. The nervous system of organs
is the highest and most important of the whole. It operates upon and
influences all the others. It forms the grand medium of communica-
tion between the mind and all the other organs, — between the mind
and the external world. The brain, the centre of this system, is now

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SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

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universally admitted to be the seat of the mind, — the organ by which
it manifests its operations and executes its purposes ; and by which,
too, a knowledge of the world without, its existence and its quali-
ties, are conveyed to the mind. As to the mode of this intercourse
between matter and mind, or mind and matter, we literally know
nothinsi. We know the fact, and that certain links in the chain of
connection are absolutely necessary to produce the fact, but that is all.
Tlie mind, by some mysterious power, conveys its volition to the brain,
the brain oj>erates upon the nerve, the nerve upon the muscle, and
the muscle upon the bone ; and thus locomotion is effected. And so is
it iu the o[)posite direction. The object congenial to the nature of the
sense — which is neither more nor less than finely attenuated nervous
substance — when presented in favorable circumstances to that sense,
produces an impression thereon ; that impression is conveyed by the
sense to the nerve, the nerve to the brain, and through the brain a
sensation or perception is conveyed to the mind. Such is the chain of
connection, every link of which is indispensably necessary to protluce
the effect ; but as to the modus operandi, we are just as ignorant as
the child unborn ; and so long as the present state of things lasts, the
probability is that we shall continue to be. But, be this as it may, it
is perfectly clear that, from the intimate and indissoluble relationship
subsisting between this system of organs and the human mind, it is
invested with the deepest importance, and, in its connection with phy-
sical education, demands the calmest and most earnest consideration.

The nervous system of organs is extremely complicated both in
structure and function ; but it may be described, in a general way, as
central masses and expansions of nervous matter linked together by
connecting cords called nerves. The principal nervous centres are the
brp.'.n and spinal cord. The brain, in the widest signification of the
word, is that largo organized mass which, along with its enveloping
membranes, — the dura mater, the arachnoid, and i\\e, pia mater, com-
pletely fills the cavity of the skull and i '^bdivided into the cerebrum,
the cereheUnm, the ni'dulla oblongata, auu .,he cephalic ganglia: all
which are composed of two distinct kinds of nervous substances, the
grerj and the tvhite, the former being the generator and the latter the
conductor of the nervous influences, "^he spinal cord, which is also
composed of two kinds of nerv^ous suoo-.inces, is subdivided into two
sets of fibres, the anterior and the posterior, the one containing exclu-
sively motor, and the latter sensitor stimulus or infiuence. From the
spinal column, incl ^ the medidla oblongata, which is but the upper
extremity of that .x a, emanate nerves in all directions ; some of

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which, in a finely attenuated form, constitute the senses, and other*
discharge tlio olfice of sensation or locomotion.

And now as to the functions performed by these nervous centres of
animal life. On this point physiologists differ in matters of detail,
though in the main, considerable harmony prevails. It is then univer-
sally admitted that the cerebrum or hemispheric lobes of the brain
constitute or include the organs of the intellectual and moral powers.
It is the seat of consciousness, volition and emotion ; and when it is
removed the bo<ly sinks into a mere machine, which acts in obedience
to the inherent forces of the automatic brain, or responds to i)hysical
stimuli, according to the laws of reflex action.

The cerebellum is the organ throufjh which we exercise voluntary
control over the muscles.

The medulla oblongata is universally allowed to constitute the seat
of sensation and of respiration. The cerebrum and cei'ebellutn may be
probed and punctured without the least degree of pain ; but if the
smallest degree of pressure be inflicted on the 7neduUa oblongata, the
most acute pain is perceptible ; and, if this be continued for any length-
ened perio<l, death will inevitably ensue.

The cephalic ganglia are deposits of nervous m, iter in the head.
These are to be found in the shape of secretions of nervous matter all
over the body, and, in the absence of regular nervous centres, such as
we have in all the invertebrate class of animals, constitute the real
source of animal existence. In the head, they are evidently intended
to unite the whole together, so as to spread a general sympathy
throughout this department.

The spinal cord performs the office of conveying the nervous stimu-
lus all over the body. The illustrious Sir Charles Bell was the first
anatomist who discovered, that the spinal cord is made up of two class-
es of nerves, the motor and the sensitor, whose offices are perfectly
distinct, that of the mntar class being for the purp()se of conveying the
volitions of the mind to the muscular system, and thereby rendering
them subservient to the purposes for which they were given ; that of
the sensitor, on the other hand, being for the purpose of conveying the
impressions made on the different senses to the mind. The former,
from the functions discharged, is sometimes called offerens, and the
latter afferens.

Considered as a whole, the nervons system falls into two great
divisions — that of animal and conscious life, and that of organic and
automatic ; the cerebrum and cerebellum, constituting the former, and
the medulla oblongata,, the cephalic ganglia and the spinal cordy the

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SCIRNCE OP EDUCATION.

latter. The one forms the nicchiinism, which, so far as it can be safely
allowed, is under the control or command of the other.

With this brief sketch of the Anatomy and Physiology of the ner-
vous system, we are now prepared to go on and make a few observa-
tions on those conditions on which the health and vigour of the brain
depend, and by which the greatest amount of intellectual effort mav
with safety be secured.

We shall not here dwell on the many advantages arising from a
naturally sound constitution of brain. There is no part of our physi-
cal frame, when diseased or disorganized, so liable to be perpetuated
or [)ropagated from parent to child, as the brain or nervous system ;
and, it is a fact worthy of observation, that there is no way by which
disease is generated so largely in this system of organs as by the viola-
tion of some plain and palpable moral precept, such, for example, as
intermarriages amongst near relations, or an over-indulgence in viands
or alcoholic drinks. How often do we see exemption from this species
of disease in one generation, while it bursts forth with redoubled viru-
lence in the succeeding. Neither do we dwell here on the advantages
arising from an adequate supply of duly vitalized or oxygenated blood.
This point we have already considered in connection with the ventila-
tion of school-houses, and to which we would refer our readers. It
cannot, however, be too frequently insisted on, that as the life is con-
tained in the blood, and as about a tenth part of the blood is recjuircd
for the nourishment of the brain and its preservation in full vigour, so
is it indispensably necessary, that the brain may accomplish its high
destination, that not only a due quantity of this vital fluid be provided,
hut also that it be of the right sort. Two things are requisite for this
purpose. There is first a supply of healthful food, adapted both in
(piantity and quality to the age, the condition, and the varied circum-
stances of the recipients. Then there is the requisite portion of pure
atmospheric air, for the purpose of converting the venous into arterial
blood — that is, of effecting the assimilating process. This latter is
even of vastly greater importance than the former ; for what availeth
the most delicious meats and drinks, unless they undergo that change
which alone renders them fit for vitalizing and invigorating the whole
frame. "Withhold the requisite supply of this element, and that instant
will you not only affect the health of the body generally, but the
health of the brain in particular, and with that, the health of the mind.
A mental listlessness and apathy will, in spite of all our resolutions,
ensue, and, if consciousness remain, an utter inability to put forth one
mental effort, Would that all patriots and philanthropists but realized

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as they ought the outstripping importance of ventilation in connection
with all educational movements ! Supposing that hoth these points,
namely, a sound hereditary brainy system, and a due supply of pro-
perly oxygenated blood, have oeen secured, the question now arises —
What are the means to be employed for the purpose of strengthening
the nervous system, and thereby rendering it more capable of carrying
out the purposes of the mind, — if not, of imparting to it greater vigour?
If mind manifests itself through the medium of the bruin, it is clear
that the operations of the mind must depend largely on its condition ;
and vice versa, for the influence is clearly reciprocal. Though we can-
not comprehend the mod* here is the most uncontrovertible evidence
that the one operates mo.si extensively upon the other. "What, then,
ought to be done, so as to strengthen the brainy system ? We must
just resort to our usual specific — exercise. By exercising the various
functional parts of the brain, the blood is made to flow throp'' jut all
the bloodvessels of the brainy mass, nicely adjusted and delicately
attenuated though they be. This exercise, in order to accomplish the
end desired, must be steady and moderate, neither defective nor exces-
sive. If the effect of too little exercise of any particular part of the
muscular system be the enfeeblemeut, if not the entire paralysis of
that part, it is, in very proportion to its surpassing delicacy, much
more so with the brain. If the excess of exercise deranges the whole
system, as being a direct violation of that law of activity and repose,
which pervades the whole natural and moral world, it is infinitely more
so with the brain, and that for the same reason as is mentioned above.
And what is the inference deducible from all this ? It is, plainly, that
we are to use tin brain neither too much nor too little. And how is
this to be effected ' By the moderate ai)plioation of the mind to study.
For this purpose, instead of giving ourselves to mental pursuits by fits
and starts — by long seasons of rest or violent exertion, we ought to
have steady and regularly fixed hours for study, and adhere to them
most scrupulously. This will operate upon the physical brain, and
produce the most beneficial results for its enlargement and consolida-
tion. " Periodicity, or the tendency to resume the same mode of action
at stated times, is peculiarly the characteristic of the nervous system ;
and, on this account, regularity is of great consequence in exercising
the moral and intellectual powers. All nervous diseases have a marked
tendency to observe regular periods, and rational inclination to sleep
at the approach of night, is but another illustration of the same fact.
It is this principle of our nature which promotes the formation of what

8CIF.NCK OF EDUCATION.

8»

are called habits. Tf we repeat any kind of mental effort every day, at
the same hour, we at last, when the time approaches, find ourselves
oiiforing upon it without })remeditation, and, in like manner, if we
arnin^o our studies in accordance with this law, and take up each
regularly in the samo order, a natural aptitude is soon produced, which
renders api)lication more easy than when the subjects are taken up as
accident may direct, — nay, occasionally, the tendency to periodical and
associated activity becomes in the course of tiwi so great, that the
facidties seem to go through their operations almost without conscious
effort, while their facility of action becomes so prodigiously increased
as to give increasing certainty, where at first great difficulty was
expp>'ienced. In thus forming habits and ac(|uiring readiness, we
mc.cly turn to account that organic law which associates increased
r.ppctite, animation and vigour with regular exercise."

Fixed regular times for mental application is thus of essential
moment for strengthening the brain. And the question here arises,
what is the best tinie for study ? It is, certainly, not after a full meal
of meat. It is a law of the animal economy, that two classes of
functions cannot be called into vigorous action at the same time with-
out the one or the other, or both, sooner or later, sustaining injury. —
To go to study, then, immediately after the pleasures of the table have
hetn indulged in, is to act right in the teeth of this law. In such
circumstances, the stomach and brain will react upon and disturb
one another, till all the horrors of nervous disease make their un- /el-
come appearance and render life miserable. The tendency to inactivity
and sleep, which besets most animals after a full meal, shows repose
to be, in such conditions, the evident intention of nature. The
bad effects of violating this rule, although not in all cases immediately
ai»parent, will most assuredly be rendered manifest, at a period more
or less remote.

Nor should the time for study be late in the evening. Persons
who practise night study, if they be at all of an irritable habit of
body, will be sleepless for hours aflter going to bed, and be tormented,
perhaps, by unpleasant dreams, which will render their sleep unre-
freshiug. If this practice be long continued, the want of refreshing
repose will idtimately produce a state of morbid irritability of the
nervous system bordering on insanity. Nature has allotted the dark-
ness of night for repose, and for the restoration by sleep of the ex-
hausted energies both of mind and body. What, then, is the best
time for study ? Unquestionably, we reply, the early part of the day.

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The morning and forenoon ought to be spent in hard mental work.
Then the brain is free to perform its functions, and is necessarily
strengthened. This, again, will operate upon the mind, and reuaer it
more capable of vigorous exertion. In this case, the evenings ought
to be spent in lighter reading, in music, or in cheerful and amusing
conversation. The excitement produced in the brain by previous
study will be soothed by these influences, will more readily subside,
and sound refreshing sleep will much more likely follow. This rule is
of the utmost importance to those who are obliged to perform a great
amount of intellectual labour. It is only by conforming to it, and
devoting their mornings to study and their evenings to relaxati(jn, that
many of our most prolific writers have beei enabled to preserve their
health. By neglecting this rule, others of the fairest promise have
been cut down in the midst of their usefulness.

But not only is regularity, but variety of study requisite. "Whether
the science of phrenology, — that science which makes the protuber-
ance in the convolutions of the brain, the organ of some meatal
taculty, — is founded on fact, we do not take it upon us to decide.
There are great and distinguished names ranged on both sides ; some
as stout in maintaining, as others are in denying its truthfulness.
But without pretending to dogmatize on the subject, we believe that
it is all but miiversally admitted that the anterior part of the cerehrum
constitutes the seat of the intellectual powers, and the middle and
posterior parts, the emotional and moral. If so, then it is clear that
our studies should neither be purely intellectual, nor moral, nor
emotional, and that simply on th.^ law of contractility. The brain
is liable to the very same law of contraction and relaxation that the
muscles are ; and, of course, if any one part is kept in a state of
exclusive tension, both it and all the others must suffer. The health
of the whole consists in each receiving its due amount of exercise.
And how ia this to be done but by a variety of subjects for study —
such a variety as will not only give employment for these three great
classes of powers with their corresponding organs, but to these powers
in all their minuter shades or details. And hence the necessity not
only of blending the intellectual and social and moral, but of blending
them in all their energies and sensibilities for the preserving and in-
vigorating of the whole; — and this can only be done by a variety of
subjects of study, not keeping the mind too long fixed on any ono
subject, however interesting or engrossing. And if all this is of force
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SCIENCK OF EDUCATION.

must bo still more in reference to those whose brainy substance is
hut in a state of growth and development, and thereby exposed to the
•M-eatest possible injury by continued overtension. And hsnce the
vouiigcr the children, the greater the need for variety of study, and
ior a limited period being devoted to the prosecution of any one
braiioh.

But not only is it necessary for the full health and vigour of the
nervous system to have regularity and variety of mental pursuits, but
also reiteration and judicious repetition. Practise is as necessary to
induce facility of action in the organs of the mind as in those of
motion. The idea or feeling must not only be communicated, but it
must be represented and reproduced in different forms, until all the
faculties concerned in understanding it, come to work efficiently
together, and until a sufficient impression is made on the organ of
mind to enable the latter to retain it. We may understand a new
subject by a single perusal, but we can fully master it only by dwelling
on it again and again. In order to make a durable impression on tlie
mind repetition is necessary ; it follows hence that in learning a
language or science, six successive months of ap}»lication will be more
effectual in fixing it indelibly in the mind and making it a part of the
mental furniture than double or even treble the time, if the lessons
are interrupted by long intervals. The too common practise of begin-
ning a study and keeping at it a little while, and then leaving it to be
comjDleted at a later period, is as unphilosophical as it is injudicious.
The fatigue of study is thus doubled and t\e success greatly dimin-
ished. Studies should not, as a general rule, be entered upon until
the mind is sufficiently matured to understand them thoroughly, and,
when begun, they should not be discontinued until they are completely
mastered. By this means, the mind becomes accustomed to sound and
healthy action, which alone can qualify the student for eminent
usefulness in after life. By this means, too, the physical organization
of the brain is strengthened and consolidated, so that they mutually
aid one another in the accomplishment of the same grand object.

Section II. — Intellectual Education.

Classijication. — As physical education is founded upon animal
physiology, so is intellectual, upon intellectual philosophy, or that part
of our mental nature, designated the intellect. Though the human
mind is one and indivisible, yet it manifests itself in a great variety of
forms or ways, now reduced to a science, and generally known by the

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name of Psychology. For a long period, the human mind was
regarded in a twofold aspect, called by some the understanding and
the will ; by others, the contemplative and the active powers ; and, by
others, the cognitive and motive, or the internal and external affections.
Now, however, it is generally regarded under the threefold classifica-
tion, — the intellect, the sensibilities and the 10 ill ; and each of these is
again subdivided into several subordinate departments, called faculties,
or modes of acting or doing.

It is with the first of these divisions, we have at present to do.
The faculties of the intellect have been variously arranged and classi-
fied according to the stand-point from which they are viewed, whether
synthetical or analytical, proceeding from particulars to generals, or
from generals to particulars. These classifications are considered by
some as defective, and by others as redundant ; by some, as beginning
where they should end, and by others, as ending where they should
begin ; but, after all, in their grand leading features, they are substan-
tially one and the same. There is one division or classification that
can hardly fail to force itself upon the attention of the most superficial
student, ajipropriately denominated the sensational and the intellectual ;
the first, embracing all those powers or forms of activity connected
less or more with external objects ; and the second, all those thoug .•■■
or ideas which, though occasioned or suggested by external things,
are, nevertheless, entirely independent of them, and to be regarded as
the results of its own spontaneous actings, the outgoings of its own
inherent constitution. The former of .hese, — the sensational, may be
subdivided into the three following classes, according to the way in
which external things are presented to and affect the intellect, viz. —
the presentative, the representative, and the combining or rejl^^ctive.

There is a large number of our thoughts or mental operations,
which originate in external objects being brought irto direct and
immediate contact with their appropriate sense. In some cases, the
knowledge thus imparted is a mere mental change called a sensation,
and, in others, is accompanied with a clear apprehension of the
existence and quality of the visible object or thing that produced
it. From the way in which the object is presented to the mind,
this may be designated the presentative class ; from the effect pro-
duced, the perceptive faculty ; and from both being combined, sense —
perception. Again, a large number of our thoughts or ideas spring
from the conception of objects that have, aforetime, been presented to
our senses in some shape or other, but which are now removed or

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

absent. These objects we may conceive of or represent to our minds,
thougb thus absent, eitlier in a more vagne or definite form ; the
former capability we designate the conceptive faculty, and the latter
the recoUective. Or, we may take the parts or properties of these
objects, unite them into a whole which had no existence before, and
so hold up that whole to our mind ; and, hence, this class of powers
has been called the representative. Again, we may compare one ob-
ject with another, or one attribute of an object with that of another,
and arrange the same into distinct classes, according to their resem-
blances or differences. This, we all naturally do. In looking at any
one object or class of objects, we separate them into their parts or
attributes ; pass judgment upon them, compare them with others, and
classify accordingly. This is to proceed from particulars to generals,
according to the synthetic method, and is appropriately designated the
generalizing faculty. Or we may reverse the process. We may
analyze the idea or term, we may pronounce a verdict respecting its
properties or relations, and show that whatever belongs to the whole,
belongs to all the parts. All men are mortal ; Homer was a man ;
therefore Homer was mortal. This is called reasoning, or that faculty
by which, from the use of knowledge obtained by the other faculties,
\vc are enabled to proceed to the discovery of other and original
knowledge. Both these powers are of the same nature, tli is, they
proceed from premises to consequences or conclusions, and may be
classified as belonging to the discoursive or reflective class.

These are all the sensational powers — or those powers of the mind
operated upon through the medium of the senses. But the mind has
also the power of acting or of forming ideas by reason of its own
constitution, independent of any external object whatever. The ideas
of power, — of cause and effect, — of time, — of a sense of the beautiful
or of the right, for example, may be occasioned or suggested by the
faculties of perception or consciousness, but they are not derived
therefrom. They are the result of the exercise of pure intellection.
We know them to be #ue without the intervention of any media.
Nay, they really lie at the foundation of all our other knowledge, and
on this account are designated by some first or primary truths, self-
evident axioms, intuitions or intuitive cognitions. As these primary
truths are beheld at once by the mind without any process of analysis
or ratiocination, the power is called the intuitive ; and as they are
occasioned or suggested by the ideas of consciousness and perception,
though neither produced by them nor in any respect similar to them,
they are caWed original suggestions.

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The faculties enumerated may be thus represented in tabular form ;

CLASSES OF POWERS OF INTELLECT. Faculties.

L — PuESENTATiVE, Sense — Perception.

( Conception.

IL — Representative, < Memory.

( Imagination.

TTT T» ( Abstraction or Generalization.

Ill — Reflective, < r>

( lieasomng.

IV. — Intuitive, Origiml Suggestion.

V/ith this brief analysis and classification of the intellect, — in which
we have mainly followed " Haven's Mental Philosophy," — we proceed
to make a few remarks on the subject of their education in general ;
thereafter, we shall discuss each facultv in order. What then is
intellecti 0.1 education^ As to the matter of intellectual education
very inade»iuate views obtain. Not a few seem to imagine, that it
consists merely in making the subject that may happen to be brought
under the notice of the young, clear and palpable, thoroughly under-
utood ; and, for this purpose, the terms are traced to their source and
defined, the clauses or sentences analysed and expounded. Now,
whilst all this is exceedingly proper, and whilst no one can fail to
perceive its vast superiority to the old routine, mechanical process,
which required the mandating of so many words and clauses without
the most distant idea of their import ; still, after all, it is nought but
instruction, and falls far short of real intellectual education. Intellec-
tual education includes instruction, and that conveyed in the most
simple and intelligible manner ; but it is something far above and
l)eyond, — something vastly more lofty and ennobling. It is neither
more nor less than the best knowledge communicated in such a way
as that all the faculties of the intellect shall be exercised, and thereby
drawn out, developed and strengthened. And how is this to be
effected ? In two ways ; first, hy presenting the appropriate food to
each faculty, Vii\i\, sacomWy, by administerin^t in a way that it shall
be digested; or, to speak without a figure, by bringing those very
subjects before the mind that are best fitted for the exercise of its
powers, and doing it so that these several powers shall be actually
used. As to the first point, there is little or no difficulty. The food,
most congenial to the perceptive faculties, is just the object adapted to
each sense ; to the conceptive and recx)llective faculties, a vivid appre-
hension of the original ideas and a thoroughness in whatever is
tiommitted ; to imagination, the formation of ideal pictures, and the

SCIENCE OF EDnCATlON.

association of the invisible with the visible, of the spiritual with the
natural; to abstraction, — the distinguishing and the separating from
each other of things which differ, the study of the generalizations and
combinations of nature ; to reasoning, — the tracing of the connection
between premises and conclusions, and the manufacturing of argu-
ments for ourselves whatever be the subject of investigation ; and tx)
original suggestion, — the encouraging a spirit of earnest and perse-
vering enquiry in reference to phenomena that may fall under our
observational powers. All this is comparatively an easy matter, and
is accomplished cither through the medium of text-books on usual
branches or oral lessons. The actual digestion of the food on the part
of the scholars, their using and strengthening their own faculties uj
the study of subjects adapted "thereto, and the presentation of these
8ul)jects so that this end shall be served, constitutes at once the grand
problem and the main difficulty.

This plainly involves two things — the theoretical and \X\e practical,
or the principle and the mode of carrying it into effect. And first as
to the philosophical principle involved. This is neither more nor less
than the teacher's coming down to a level with his class, and conduct-
ing them by the use of their own faculties from the known to the
unknown, from objects or things with which all are familiar to the
discovery of those facts, or the deducing of those inferences, or the
reception of that knowledge, or the learning of those lessons, at which
he is aiming, or which he is striving to impress on their minds Ilie
object is to impart knowledge, to enforce truth, to inculcate wluiesome
moral instruction, not by telling them, not by didactic statements or
finished prelections, but by guiding and gently constraining them
through the legitimate exercise of their own powers to the wished for
landing ; and this that he may de\'elope and enlarge the particular
faculty or faculties intended. For this purpose he avails himself of
certain innate constitutional principles, viewed in connection with the
»tage of the mental development of his scholars. These principles are
such, as the powers of perception, comparison, analogy, classification,
intuitive beliefs, acts of the judgment, or deducting conclusions from
certain data or premises, and the like. And where does the teacher
find materials for the exercise or the play of these principles ? He
finds them everywhere about and around ; and, accordingly, he levies
a tribute on the works of nature and art, on man and manners, on the
past and present, with the view of catering for the special appetites of
his pupils. Two things must be kept before his miud's-eye in the
solection of this provision ;— the aptnesB of the incident or occurrence,

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of the object or illustration, to the case in hand, to the point to be
made out, and the character, the circumstances and stage of advauco-
ment of his class. In one word, he viust sec and be sure that the
platform on which he takes his stand is one (,u which all can join, —
one in reference to which the transition from Aie natural to the nvnital
or spiritual, — from the visible to the invisible, — from tiie temporal to
the eternal, — from the finite to the infinite, is easily perceived and
duly appreciated. But there is one field where he, the teacher, may
revel at will, — a field as inexhaustible as it is in every way suitable,
a field on which the child and the adult, the lale and the female,
the stupid and the intelligent, are alike at home, wo mean, of
course, the field of nature, of visible objects, and of t le employ-
ments and pursuits around. All know something about stones and
plants and animals, their uses, their varied applications, &c. And
why so ? It is because of the very constitution of their being,
because they are possessed of a sensible nature, and because the
grand avenue, the easiest pathway to the mind, is through the senses.
And do we not see this principle displayed every day before our
eyes ? Look, for example, at the conduct of the mother in her endea-
vours to impress the mind of the prattling child on her knee with any
event, or fact, with anj' Bible story. Is it, for example, the un-
natural deed of Cain imbruing his hands in the blood of his unoffend-
ing brother ? She has no sooner determined to depict this transac-
tion to her little one, than she hies away to the library shelves in
search ot the big folio copy of the Bible, and at once turns up the
pictorial representation of the scene. With consummate tact she fixes
the eye of her child on the more prominent and striking features of
the picture, and then pri L-eds t'^ the rehearsal, the verbal delineation
of the tragical story. And why does she resort to this method ? Is
it because she is aware of the philosophical principle involved ? No,
she does it from pure instinct. And could there be a nobler testimony
to the truth of our position ? But why cite such occurrences? Ilath
not the Divine Being Himself in making known His will to mortals
adopted this very mode, and set its suitableness and soundness for
ever at rest ? No one, we think, can peruse the Sacred Record with-
out being struck with the profusion, the appropriateness, and in many
instances, the gorgeousness of its imagery, without perceiving that
there is scarcely a spiritual truth, or doctrine, or moral precept unfold-
ed, not bodied forth in some biographical sketch, or exhibited in some
emblem or parabolic illustration. It matters not whether man is
contemplated in an unfallen or fallen condition, whether he is living

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

undei* the dawning twilight or the noontide radiance of the remedial

economy,

the

same

modi of revelation is pursued. "Witnesf, for
example, the two &pecial trees in the Garden of Eden, — the tree of
the knowledge of good and evil and the tree of life. Witness, again,
the stupendous ceremonial of the preparatory dispensation, how com-
pletely every thing connected with the person, the character, the office
and work of the great coming Deliverer of the human family, was
portrayed and shadowed forth in personal types, symbolic rites, and
sacrificial observances. And why all this ? It was because the
church was in her minority, in a state of pupilage, requiring, like
children, that her instructions be couched under natural emblems, and
that her lessons, her moral and spiritual lessons, be conveyed through
visible or tangible objects and things. But the finest exemplification
of this mode of teaching, are the discourses and addresses of Incar-
nate divinity, — of Ilim in whom were hid all the treasures of wisdom and
knowledge. No one can read the evangelic story without perceiving
with what admirable dexterity the Great Teacher wields this weapon ;
with what inimitable ease and skill he renders universal nature tribu-
tary to his purpose ; and through the help of emblems, analogies and
parables, meets and rebuts, at the instant, the captious cavils of his
accusers, shutting them up by their own reasoning to certain convic-
tions and conclusions, which they could neither gainsay nor contro-
vert. — '' Is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar?" asked the Pharisees-:
" Show me a penny," resumed our Lord. " And they brought it, and
he said unto them, whose is this image and superscription ? And they
said unto Ilim, Caesar's. And Jesus answering said unto them. Render
unto Ca5sar the things that are Cajsar's, and to God the things that
are God's. And they marvelled at him." " Who is my neighboiur ?"
said the same party. Jesus Christ did not say in reply that all the
human fiimily were the lawyer's neighbours, or enter upon an elabo-
rate abstract disquisition of the great moral lesson he came to exem-
plify and establish, viz., that we are all our brothers' keepers ; but he
answered it by picturing out to him the touching and the thrilling
story of the good Samaritan. After which, the crafty Lawyer did
not require to renew his question. Again, on another occasion, the
Pharisees watched Him whether he would cure on the Sabbath da}^
our Saviour looked on them, and asked : " Is it lawful to do good on
the Sabbath day ; to save life or to kill ? but they held their peace."
A similar, and, perhaps, still more impressive incident occurs in St.
Luke's gospel : " And it came to pass as He went into the house of
one of the chief Pharisees to eat bread on the Sabbath day, that they
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watched him. And behold there was a certain man before Ilim
which had the dropsy. And Jesus answering, spake unto the lawyers
and Pharisees, s.'iyiug, Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath day ? And
they held their peace. And lie took him, and healed him, and let
him go ; and answered them, saying, Which of you shall have an ox
ur an ass fallen into a pit, and will not straightway pull him out on
the Sabbath-day ? And they co'dd not answer Ilim again to these
things." In both those examples, Christ, it will be observed, does
not tell the Pharisees whether it w;>3 or was not lawful to do good on
the Sabbath-day ; he appealed to their conscience ; he trained them ;
they felt the rebuke ; " they held their peace." Take another exam-
ple, which we simply recite. It is so appropriate and beautiful, that
it can hardly be touched without marring its effect : " And one of the
Pharisees desired Jesus that he would eat with liim. And he went
into the Pharisee's house, and sat down to meat. And, behold, a
woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat
at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment,
and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet
with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed
his feet, and anointed them with ointment. Now, when the Phari-
see which had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying,
This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and whaL
sort of woman this is that touched him ; for she is a sinner. And
Jesus answering, said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto
thee. And ho saith, master, say on. There was a certain creditor
which had two debtors : the one owed five hundred pence, and the
other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave
them both. Tell me, then, which of them will love him most ? Simon
answered and said, I suppose that he to whom he forgave most. And
he said unto him. Thou hast rightly judged." Then all was clear for
making the application. Indeed Simon himself, however reluctantly,
was compelled to draw the inference. As the debtor who had been for-
given most loved most, so this woman loved much because she had
been forgiven much. One other case, and that mainly for the pur-
pose of showing how, by this mode of teaching, the Great Teacher
enlists the intellectual powers, and insists on their legitimate exercise.
The case to which we refer is the mission of John's two disciples to
^rist, for the purpose of discovering whether he were the Messiah.
These two disciples being introduced, asked, " Art thou he that should
<;ome, or do we look for another. Jesus answered and said unto them,
<Go and show John these things which ye do sec and hear : The blind

SClKNCn OF EDUCATION.

receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers .are rlc.nsed, and
the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the poor have the Gos-
pel preached unto them, and blessed is he whosoever shall not be
offended in me." As if he had said, " Go home xnd tell your master
what things you have seen and heard ; then, turning up ihe Scriptures
in your possession, compare the predictions relative to tlo Messiah
with what you have seen ; exercise your own powers, and then draw
your own conclusions." Rut" why should we midtiply such cases in
confirmation of the Savir r'g style of teaching ? The whole Evangeli-
cal Record is but one unbroken continuation of such illustrations
rising the one above the other in beautiful simplicity and in striking
appropriateness, in complete adaptation to the experience and occupa-
tions of the parties addressed. It matters not to whom He spoke, or
on what occasions ; whether it be to few or many — on more formal or
<Msual interviews ; he uniformly selects for illustration the very object
or thing best fitted for conveying the truth or enforcing the lesson he
desires, and with which his audit(»r or auditors are perfectly familiar.
And not only so, but in the whole management of that illustration, he
never loses sight of the point upon which the very essence of the truth
or lesson hinges, or of the faculty or faculties intended to be exercised
and strengthened. But the main charm of all his figurative delinea-
tions, and of all his parabolic illustrations, is the attractive, the captiv-

ating and the

winning

manner in which he constrains those he

wishes to benefit to follow out these delineations and illustrations to
all their practical applications and to all their natural conclusions ;
aye, and until they are literally hedged within an enclosure, from
which, without the most palpable belying of their own conscientious
<;()n"ictions, they cannot make their escape. This is the grf^nd, the
cull lating point in the whole process — the burden of thi divine
Teacher's aim and object. He is desirous to impart knowledge, and
knowledge earned by their own exertions ; but there is something
above and beyond all this, namely, the consideration of the expansion,
the education of the intellectual and moral powers of their nature,
and that for the purpose of rendering them competent in all time
coming for higher feats — for yet nobler achievements. What an
honour does the divine Teacher thus bestow upon secondary
agency — upon human instrumentality ! How easily, by a miraculous
display of omnipotence, could he have forced his auditors to the
same conclusions, but this would have done violence to, and cast dis-
paragement on the work of creation, His own handiwork ; tliis would
have frustrated all the happiness and joy arising from the co-operation

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of the creatures IIi» own wisdom had tramed. And what a hnfo of
glory is thus flung around the powers or faculties of the human mind 1
If the beneficent Creator Himself thus exalts these powers, and
shows us how they are to be rendered subservient for the end in view,
what an instructive admonition is thereby given — what a per-
suasive appeal is made for our imitation of the example lie so fully
and, elaborately sets before us ! What a lesson is here taught parents,
vSabbath-school and week-day Teachers, that nothing but training —
nothing but an unceasing pr(>cdss of self-educatiou, will strengthen
aiMl develop the intellectual powers of our being !

And thia principle, in all its exem[)lifications and d'ivelopment^, is.
just as applicable to secular a.s it is to religious and moral subjects.
Indeed the similitudes, the parables and allegories are perhaps more
Quiuerous and appropriate in the one case than iu the other. At all
events, the young are as well acijuaiuted with them, and can appre-
hend with even greater facility their application and their force. The
first systematic attempt to reduce t'lis principle to practical applicittion
in the general business of the school, was that made by Pestallozzi,
the great Swiss educational Reformer. lie sat a diligent student at
the feet of nature, — perceived the influence which the objects in the
world without had on the whole inner life of man, and laboured most
asF'duously and perseveringly to apply this principle to the whole
ed-ijational process. Hence the objective system, as it is called, which
is neither more nor less than the application of this principle to all the
branches of education, is identified with the name of Pestalozzi, and
is sometimes interchangeably designated the Pestalozziau system.
This devoted enthusiast, however, stopped short here. His system at
the utmost only appeals to the perceptive faculties. He attaches
little or no value, or, at least, makes little or no use of the conceptive
or the reflective. But there is a defect greater and more desolating
far, and that is the neglect or the casting away of the grace and strength
so fully and so freely tendered to all in the discoveries of the Bible.
Nature is idolized and adored, but Revelation is ignored, or, at least,
occupies but a subordinate place. And yet Pestalozzi did inaugurate
the exercise of Object lessons. lie was, perhaps, the foremost that ever
^stematically attempted to adapt the educational process to the nature
of the child, and, so far as he went, a great, and good, and progressive
work was doue in the very essentials of our theme. Stow, of Glas-
gow, completed and perfected the work which Pestalozzi had begun.
He consulted both Books, the one ot nature and the other of grace,
and gladly availed himself of all tlxe assistance he needed. And what

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101

iVkI he not need ? But not only did he impart durability to his work
by laying its foundation deop on the rock of eternal truth, he was
i'liahled, by the vision derived from these two Books, to take a full
,-iiid panoramic view of the recipients of education — to descry more
/■iculties demanding culture than even those of conception, imagina-
tion, generalization and reasoning. And hence he added to the object-
ive, the word-painting-lessons, and to all these the drawing of conclu-
«ions from certain data or premises. And what an enduri^jj fabric to
the glory of humanity did he thus erect? What homage did he pay
to the author of our being ! What honour and lustre did he confer on
the law of adaptation !

So much for the history of the principle. How, it may now 1>«
asked, is it reduced to practice ? What is the process by which, in
word-painting, we are iwtually to exercise the faculties of the
scholars, to train, and not merely to teach ? What plan is to be
pursued by which the scholars shall actually use, and thereby
strengthen the special power or faculty intended ? Is it to be effected
by a lecture from the Teacher — by an oral or written delineation of
the scene or transaction, of the most graphic description — the thoughts
lucidly conceived, and the inferences logically deduced? All this may
bo done, and the pupils both apprehend and appreciate s import, and
yet their faculties remain in a state of all but complete dormancy and
inactivity. Or is this to be done by a series of questions and aiiswers,
the former well put by the Teacher, and the latter accurately given
by the scholars ? No ; this exercise may acquaint the teacher with
(he extent and character of his pupils' knowledge on any given point,
and it mvy help to quicken and expand and consolidate the ideas
of the pupils ou subjects they oady know, — it may rouse their <!ner-
«;ies in connection with these subjects ; but this is all ; it neither adds
to their stock of knowlege nor cultivates their faculties, except, per-
hxps, the faculty of memory. Or is it to be accomplished by the
teacher's telling his scholars what he desires to be done, and by giving
a few hints, so as to set them on the way of performing the work
themselves. This may do well enough with a few of the class who
would, in all probability, by their talent, industry and perseverance,
j)erform the exercise with creditable success ; but the rest are uuinflu-
<Miced and unemployed.

The only way of effecting the object in view is by a skilful combi-
nation of questioning and ellipses carried on orally between the
teacher and taught, the former acting literally in the capacity of a
Trainer, and the latter serving a tractable apprenticeship. We shal]

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suppose, then, that the subject of instruction is chosen, and that the
pictorial representation by which the knowled^ is to be communicat-
ed and the lessons to be inculcated is vividly before the mind's eye
of the Teacher, the first thing to be done is for him easily and freely
to put a (juestion, or a numbiT of (juestions, merely to ascertain the
extent of tlmir knowledjjfe, whether the majority of the class are
familiar with the image — the natural picture. Having done so, and
finding all prepared to enter ujmn a conversation thereon, he continues
his (piestions, pausing and allowing them to go on and supply both
words and clauses— -ideas. Specific directions for the conducting of
this exercise will be given at a subse<iuout stage in our course. SutRce
it now to say, that much of the power and success of this exercise
depends upon the skill and training experience of the Teacher.
Every possible care should be taken to see that there is a judicious
blending of the two processes — the questioning an«l ellipsis, and this
constitutes the grand difficultv of the exercise. If we go to an excess
with either, the whole l)ecomes tamo and inoperative. Tlie (piestion
is intended to set tin; mind a-thinkiiig, and to keep it on the right
track — the ellipsis carries on, directs what has been set a-moving. As
in painting, the question is a direct line, whereas the ellipsis fills up
the interstices. Questions are the direct investigation of our amo it
of knowledge : ellipsis assists the pupil in acquiring it. Tliough per-
fectly warrantable to allow the pupils, in filling up the ellipses, to go
off the pathway a certain distance — such a distance as that the main
road shall not be lost sight of, — it is the province of the trainer to
bring them back by the proposing of a question, — and this demands
the utmost vigilance. Everything must at once he sacrificetl for the
accomplishment of this end. Tlie end is the iicquisition of additional
knowlege, through the medium of the illustration ; and if the natural
scenes or objects will not land dii-ectly in that region — if the so can-
not be fairly deduced from the as, tlie sooner that that course is aban-
doned, the more successful will be the exercise. A great deal depends
on the nature of the subject discussetl and the point aimed at. as well
as on the character and general advancement of the scholars ; and so
to humour these, as that the end in view shall be attaine<l, as that the
sensible portrait shall tally with and bring out, by clear inference, the
thing signified. To elicit the conventional truth or fact, retjuires no
ordinary circumspection, discrimination and dexterity on the part of the
trainer, such, in fact, as nought but a lengthened experience can impart.
We very often, with tiie view of exhibiting the necessity of blending and
continuing the questions and the elliptical process, resort to tlie method

SCIENCE OK EDUCATION.

10.']

pursued by the mother in training lier infant to walk. Having satis-
fied herself that the time ha-s arrived when the lower extremities are
perfectly competent to support the trunk, she takes the necessary
steps to give her child the power of locomotion. Her first object is
to accustom her child to stand erect. To do this, she does not con-
tinue to hold the child in her arms, but she places it upon the floor.
To inspire with confidence, however, in this act, she places a chair
before it by way of a prop. The child is afraid, at first, to be left by
its moth,. ; but no sooner does it find, by help of the chair, it can
stand, thaii it is inspired with confidence, and looks around with com-
placency and an air of conscious independence. This is stage the first
in Wi'lking. Corresponding with this, in intellectual walking, is ques-
tioning and answering, — the former placing the class on their own
resources, and the latter evincing whether their strength is e(iual to
the emergency : if so, well ; if not, pointing out the necessity of adopt-
ing some other expedient. But to return to the illustration. The
mother, when convinced that her child is inspired with confidence,
proceeds to another step in the process. She removes the chair or
prop such a disi-ance as will compel it to make a step or two before
it reach it. It looks around for a moment — casta about for a
prop ; but finding none unless it moves, it summons up its energy and
courage, and makes a bold venture. Staggering and tottering, it
reaches the chair, and looks around with greater satisfaction than ever,
and (piite U{)lifted with the victory achieved. The child is allowed to
remain a little while in this position — is taken again up into its
mother's arms, and thus ends stage the second in the process of physical
walking. This again corresponds with the elliptical process in intel-
lectual walkiiig, the class putting forth their own powers, and taking
up the story when the trainer paused, or when they were left to deduce
some inference or lesson. The third stage in the child's walking con-
sists in the removal of the chair to a greater distance, or very likely in
changing the prop. The mother puts aside the chair, or puts the child
from her arms on t' ^ fioor, and, removing to a respectable distance,
encourages her cl lid to advance tow -ds her. This, evidently, awak-
ens considerable perplexity and feai .a the mind of the little prattler,
but it must either tumble and flounder, or else reach the goal. It
resolves to assay the latter, however formidable, and succeeds ; and
his satisfaction rises in very proportion to the arduousness of the task.
This again corresponds with the more advanced i;tage in the elliptical
process, the passing from the literal to the conventional — from the

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emblem to the truth or lesson taught — from the premises to the con-
clusion — from the region of the known to that of the unknown.

There could scarcely, we think, he a more apt illustration of the
point in hand — the process of intellectual training or the means to be
employed for constraining the young to the exercise, and thereby to
the growth and development of their various intellectual powers. As
the child can never learn to walk physically so long as it is carried
about in its mother's arms, so neither can the young be taught intel-
lectually to walk so long as their education is made to consist only in
telling or instructing. As there is no way by which the child can be
taught to walk but by the use of its own limbs and feet, so is there
no way by which the young can be taught intellectually to walk — that
is to a bold and determined self-reliance — but by the use of their own
intellectual powers. As it is the bounden duty of every mother to
use all legitimate means for the purpose of imparting the power of
locomotion to her own child, so is it the duty of every educator to
use every means by which the young committed to his care, shall
acquire the power of intellectual motion, and thereby of advancing, in
a continued course of intellectual improvement, self-education. But
this means will be found, not only eminently efficient iu accomplishing
the end in view in reference to a few apt scholars, — it is remarkal)ly
diffusive in all its tendencies. This, however, depends very much on
the way iu which the answers are given and the ellipses fdlcd in.
There are two ways in which this may be done — simultaneously and
individually. We repudiate altogether the practise of asking a (pics-
tion directly at an Individual, naming the individual before the ques-
tion is put, or, which amounts to {)retty much the same thii.g, begin-
ning at the top of the class, and going on in rotation to the bottom,
"he question ought to be put to the whole class ; a short space should
ensue, allowing all and sundry to be exercised. But supposing all
this has been gone through, the grand point is, in what way is the
answer to be given ? Are all to answer or to fill up the ellipses toge-
ther, or are they to give a signal as soon as they think they are pre-
pared, and wait until a certain individual is named. The former is
called the simultaneous, and the latter, the individual method. We
decidedly recommend the adoption of both these methods, according
to circumstances. In such an exercise, two things ought to be aimed
at by the teacher — the stimulating of the emulative principle on the
part of the diligent, and the rousing into activity of the idle and
lethargic. The one is largely promoted by the simultaneous, and the
other by the indlvldurlizing method. But whatever is the method

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

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pursued, neither the answer nor the ellipses should be left till they
are imprinted on the understanding of every individual of the class.
This may be effected in two ways — either by inverting the answe-
into the form of a cpiestion, and then throwing it back upon the whole
class, and so with the ellipses, if need be ; and also by obtaining a
summary of the whole lesson at the conclusion of the training process.
Every teacher should remember, and carry into practice, the import-
ant fact that no lesson is to be regarded as given till it is actually
received. And how is this to be ascertained, but in the way we
have indicated, the teacher demanding in the scholars' own words,
and that without the aid of the prop of questioning, an abridgement
of the whole lesson gone over. (See exposition ot details and variety
of minute exemplifications on Oral Lessons.) Enough surely has
been said to show the radical distinction that obtains between intellec-
tual instruction and intellectual training — between the teaching and
the educating of the understanding.

Tm: Perceptive Faculties ou Sense Perception.

Having discussed the nature of Intellectual Education, in general,
and the best moans, in our view, of reaching it, we proceed to the
consideration of the various faculties in detail ; following the classifica-
tion already sketched, and applying to each the education of the grand
specific exercise. We begin with the Perceptive powers, constituting,
as they do, the first awakeners of the mind's activities, and lying at
the foundation of all our other knowledge.

Nature of Perceptive Faculties. These faculties are so designated,
because by them we are enabled to perceive or obtain a knowledge of
the existence and properties of an external world. This is done through
the medium of the five senses — smelling, tasting, hearing, touch and
sight. Tliese senses are neither more nor less than attenuated masses
of nervous matter, situated in convenient regions of the human body,
which, when brought into contact, either directly or indirectly, with
certain objects congenial to their nature, undergo a change, or receive
an impression, which change or impression is conveyed by a class of
nerves called afferens to the brain, and thence by some mysterious
process to the mind. Various attempts have indeed been made to
••onnect this immense hiatus — to bridge over the wide gulf that sepa-
rates the physical organization from the mental substance ; but, not-
withstanding all the speculations of idealists on the one hand, and of
realists on the other, the connecting bond is just as latent as ever — \%
as profound a secret as ever, and, in all j)robability, will continue to

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be 80. In such circumstances, surely it were far nobler for man to
bow with becoming humility to the dictates of infinite wisdom, and to
be satisfied with the inevitable arrangement, that it is just as much
the glory of Deity to conceal, as it is to reveal a thing.

These senses or inlets of the knowledge of the external world, are,
as already stated, juat five in number. This fiict necessarily limits our
knowledge of the world without, imposing an impassable barrier upon
all our researches and investigations. We can only, by reason of this
arrangement, become aoriuainted with those qualities in the objects
around us, by which our senses are affected, or which they recognize.
For aught we know, these objects may possess many other qualities
or properties, but as we have no means of apprehending them, we
must be content to remf * i ignorant of them. And yet is not the
knowledge we obtain through the medium of our senses amply suffi-
cient for all useful, practical purposes — for all the purposes that apper-
tain to our preservation and welfare, taking into account at once the
nature of our constitution and our external circumstances. The qua-
lities with which they make us acquainted, may be all classified under
two heads — the spatial and the chemical, or those that go to our
defence from danger, and those that go to our nourisl:ment and refresli-
ment. I am surrounded with innumerable objects, with which I am
liable every moment to come into collision, against which I am apt to
stumble and fall. Here th'^ 'ease of touch comes in for my guidance,
and protects me from all haiai or casualties. But this sense is only
of use for things near at hand. Through it I can only obtain a know-
ledge of those objects that are tangible. It is equally essential for
my preservation and welfare that I become acquainted with objects at
a distance, as well as those that are near. And here another sense
comes to my succour — the sense of sight. But light is the medium
through which I perceive objects both near and at a distance. When
light is excluded, what am I to do ? I am then in jeopardy — in
utmost peril of my life. It seems indispensable that I should be pro-
vided with another sense, and that sense is hearing, by which I am
shielded from innumerable dangers and straits. By these three senses
— touch, sight and hearing — I obtain, at all times, and in all circum-
stances, a knowledge of the objects in space — of all the primary qua-
lities of matter, such as extension, durability, size, density, figure,
ultimate compressibility, mobility, situation ; of all the secondary
mechanical, such as gravity, cohesion, repulsion, inertia ; of all the
secondary physiological, such as colour, sound, flavour, tactual sensa-
tion, feeling of heat, electricity. These senses, it will be observed,

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SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

107

have a more direct reference to existence and quantity than to qua-
lity. And have we none by which wo may detect the chemical pro-
perties of bodies, as connected especially with the functions of respira-
tion and nutrition ? Yes, this knowledge is given and this addition
made by the sense of smell and taste. But while these senses dis-
charge respectively their appropriate functions, and serve the very
purpose for which they were intended, some convey more information
tlian others ; whilst some have a more direct bearing on the intellectual
powers, and others produce a more lasting impression. Whenever an
object, congenial to any sense in a normal condition, is brought in
contact therewith, there is uniformly the consciousness of two things :
something in the external world affecting the organism, and perfectly
distinct from the being affected — that is, there are the two elements —
the objective and the subjective — the ego and the non-ego. True,
there are some of the senses — such as smell, taste and hearing — that
only convey the knowledge of a new consciousness, or, as it is called,
a sensation ; and there are others, as touch and sight, which along
with this knowledge, convey the belief that there is some external
object by which this knowledge is produced, which is called a percep-
tion ; but whether it be a perception or a mere sensation, these two
elements are always implied, viz., the person cognizing and the affec-
tion of the mind by something external, whether that be known or
not, as separate and distinct. Still farther there are some of these
senses — such as those of smelling, and tasting, and touch — that more
directly refer to the lower or the animal part of our constitution,
whilst the other two — hearing and seeing — do to the mental, and con-
sequently demand, at the hand of the educationist, a more profound
and patient investigation. And yet again, of all the senses, there is
none so valuable as that of sight. It produces the most durable im-
pressions ; its scenes and transactions are most easily recalled, and its
furniture constitutes the principal wealth of the mind.

Importance of Perceptive Faculties. But we have written enough
upon the general features of sense-perception, — enough, at any rate,
to show its vast importance over the whole realm of thought. It not
only awakens mind, intellectually and emotionally ; it constitutes the
grand receptacle of all that knowledge which the mind combines and
re-combines in an infinite variety of modes, forming a foundation stoue
— an admirable platform for all its other operations. It bears all but
omnipotent sway in the coucoptive faculty, and to which, as to a pic-
ture gallery of the visible world, as it has been styled, the mind retires
at every moment, when it is not occupied by that world itself. It is

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through the perceptive faculties that the analytical iwwer, — or that
power by which we arc enabled to detect and distinguish from each
other all the various qualities of an e^ ;ernal world is called forth, — and
which ])ower, being tr sferred to spiritual as well as material phenom-
ena, is of prime importance to every philosophic mind. It is, in one
word, through the perceptive faculties, that we are brought into mys-
terious communion with an external world, and by which the invisible
things of Deity are clearly seen, being understood by the things that
arc made.

Education of Perceptive Faculties. And how encouraging, in such
circumstances, is the susc(?ptibility of improvement of this class of
faculties, especially in the young ! This is manifest to the most super-
ficial observer. Look at those whose business or occupation compels
tliem to depend upon any one of their senses, and which, in conse-
quence, is constantly exercised. IIow distinctly, for example, does
the sailor descry, in the distance, the particular kind of vessel that is
speeding its way on the wide waste of waters, whilst the landsman
scarcely discerns an object at all ! But this cai)tJ)ility of improve-
ment is still more remarkable in the case of those who have been
deprived of one or more of their senses. No one, wo think, can visit
an asylum for the Blind, or for the Deaf and Dumb, without being
struck at the proficiency with which the former read the embossed
cliaracters of any book that may happen to be put into their iiands, or
the facility and accuracy with which the latter carry on their inter-
course with their fellow-creatures through the medium of external
signs. Perhaps the most extraordinary case on record is that of
Laura Bridgman, of Boston, Mass., who was not only blind, but deaf
and dumb, and yet, through the cultivation of the sense of touch, was
rendered capable of holding intelligent intercourse with her fellow-
creatures. " When I was at the Institution of Boston, a few months
ago," says Mayhew, in his Treatise on Popular Education, " she was
told a person was present whom she had never met, .nd who wished
an introduction to her. She reached her hand, expecting to meet a
stranger. By mistake she took the hand of another gentleman, whom
she recognized immediately, though she had never met him but twice
before. She recognizes her acquaintances in an instant, by touching
their hands or their dress ; and there are probably hundreds of individ-
uals, who, if they were to stand in a row, and hold out each a hand
to her, would be recognized by that alone. The memory of these sen-
sations is very vivid, and she will readily recognize a person whom
she has thus once touched. Many cases of this kind have been noticed.

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SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

109

such as a iktboii shaking htinds with her, and making a peculiar pres-
sure with a finger ; and repeating this on his second visit, after a hipse
of many months, being instantly known by her. She has been known
to recognize persons with whom she has thus simply shaken hands but
once after a lapse of six. months." Could there be a more triumphant
(lomonstration of the soundness and validity of our position — the
improvement of our senses by exercise, than is furidshed by the edu-
cational history of this singular character? And how loud the call
which this, and hundreds of similar cases, address to parents and
teachers, to ply every energy, with the view of cultivating the senses
of the young, as laying the most suitable foundation for all their edu-
cational work, if not rather for all their future career.

And this ought to be systematically proceeded with, — that is, the
senses should bo taken up in order, and the objects congenial to their
nature presented to them. The two most important senses, mentally
regarded, are those of Hearing and Seeing. The ear, which consists
of two parts, the exterior and the interior, separated by the memhrana
tijmpani, is the seat of the former ; and the eye, which consists of the
three coats — the sclerotic, chloroid, and the retina, and of the three
humours — the acpieous, the crystalline and vitreous, is the seat of the
latter. The grand peculiarity of the sense of hearing is that the tones
or sounds addressed to it, — and these are said to be 500, possessing
'>00 degrees of loudness, — have a natural meaning, and awaken corres-
ponding emotions in the breasts of those who listen. Hence the
power of music both over the tutored and untutored mind. Hence,
too, the power of the orator over his auditors ; and hence, too, its
power in teaching. The grand peculiarity of the organ of vision is,
that it not merely imparts, through the medium of light, a direct
knowledge externally of colour, of superficial and solid extension, but
also those acquired perceptions, which give us the notion of things as
they are, that boar sway in the percepti , i fawdty. It is to its picture
gallery of the visible world that the mind retires at every moment
when not occupied by that world itself ; it is over these images that
it exerts a plastic power, recombining the elements they consist of, in
an iiilinite variety of modes ; " and it is exclusively out of these same
elements, fiintastically consorted, that those magic halls are stocked
and ornamented, through which the soul flits and roams during
sleep." ■ f'. ... r ■ . . • ,

The furniture of the conceptive faculty, as derived from the objects
of sight, constitutes the principal wealth of the mind ; and upon the
ready command of these treasures, with some specific end in view.

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ilopoiKls, in a <^reat mcastirc, its powei The quality and extent of
these ideal stor(!S, and the degree in which they are available as mate-
rials for the otlu'r facnilties to work U{)oii, are the chi(!f reason of the
vast difference l)etwcen one mind and another, and generally the dif-
ference between eulttired and uncultured minds. Whatever may be
the path of exertion pursued by any one, if the conceptive faculties in
the particular department which the mind occupies be fully fraught
with its proper objects, and be prompt in prochu^lng its stores, such a
mind will take the lead among others.

It is clear, then, that these two scMises present by far the strongest
claims on the educationist, — constitute, in fact, at first, the grand bur-
ileu of all his operations. And yet it is not less clear that their eidti-
vation ought not to exclude the otiuir three — tou(!h, smell and taste.
The education of these onjiht to be carried on at one and the same
time. The first gives an immediate perception of externality, exten-
sion, form, hardness, softness, «S:c., including the various mechanical
properties of bodies ; the second, all the odours ; and the third, all the
flavours ; and it is in every way advantageous that we obtain a correct
knowledge of all these, — in other words, that those senses be exercised
and developed.

And now is it asked, ITow is this to be done ? Plainly, we again
repeat, by the trainer submitting to each sense the congciiiial object.
If the sense of smell, the odoriferous particles must be brought in
contact with the olfactory nerves ; if of taste, the body must be siibject-
ed to the palate ; if of touch, the person must be allowed to handle
the object with wlu)se hardness or softness he wishes to become
ac(iuainted ; if of hearing, the sound must be brought into contact with
the ordinary nerves ; and if of sight, the object must be subjected to
the inspection of the eye. If each sense is to be cultivated, the object
must be directly and immediately addref^ed or submitted to the sense.
The exercise of the one will not suffice .jt that of the other.

And these senses, if they are to be thoroughly strengthened, must be
exercised when they are in course of growth, and most susceptible oi
improvement. Any of the senses may be strengthened by exercise,
80 long as they are free from disease or decay. But there is a season
when they are far more capable of being unfolded and developed *han
any other, and that is when the muscular or nervous substance that
enter into their composition, are in a state of growth. When these
reach their maturity, or when our physical nature ceases to grow, then
our instrumentality, to a great extent, terminates. We may still use
means for their exercise, but we arc not in the same favorable

BCIKNCE OK KDUCATION.

Ill

coudition. All are now confirmed uiid eotisolidated, and, consequently,
not nearly so flexible, or so susceptible of efficient impressions.
How loudly does this circumstance call upon all interested in the
education of the young to ply every energy in the cultivation of the
senses before they reach their teens ! And how forcibly, too, docs it
demonstrate the benefit of object lessons, with a view to their devel-
opment ! But enough has been said regarding the nature, the
improvement and the education of this faculty. Its application, less
or more, pervades the whole practical details of o»ir third book. (See
articles on Music, Oral Lessons, and also on School Management, &c.)

CoNCEPTivE Faculty.

Its Nature. There is not, perhaps, in the whole range of mental
science, a term with a greater latitude of signification, than tlu^
one before us. Some msiintain that it embraces all the knowhjdgo
of which the human mind is cognizant, whatever we can form a
thought or au apprehension of ; that it may refer, not merely to the
past, but the future — not merely to the actual, but the ideal — not
merely to the sensible, but the super-sensible ; that this is the comraou
meaning of the word, and that it should bo used in no other. Others,
again, take it in a more restricted or limited sense, and make it refer
merely to the knowledge of all that has entered the mind through the
medium of sensation and p(;rception ; and between these two extremes
there is every possible phase of view and opinion. The former class
of interpreters deny its existence as a separate faculty, seeing that, in
their, opinion, it enters into all our mental operations, and is involved
in all the other powers. The latter, again, assign it a distinctive and
a very important place among the other faculties.

We are decidedly of opinion, that, whatever may be the common
meaning of the term, there is a power or faculty that may appro-
priately be designated the conceptive, or, at all events, has not a more
suitable appellation. Wo refer to that mental power, by means of
\Thich, what has already been present to the sensations and percep-
tions, returns, or is brought back to the mind, in the absence of the
object, with more or less distinctiveness, and is then dealt with as a
material of cogitation, or, after serving to lead on to other ideas, dis-
appears. It is this power — the power of entertaining ideas apart from
the sensations and perceptions — which seems to be the first point of
distinction, marks the superiority of the human mind, and gives
Uio earliest indication of intellectuality in the infant, after the percep-
tions have becama pretty well defined. Long before any other men-

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Uil power can bo detected, the infant gives proof that it has already
come into possession of a not slenderly furnished treasury of images,
which, withjiit its hid ling, take their turns in enlivening its other-
wise vapid existence, and which, although, as yet, it has acipiired no
control over them, do not fail to obey the great laws that are to
regulate the mental operations of the adult. A thousand familiar
facts give evidence of the existence of this faculty in the earliest
stages of life ; and a single and conclusive one is afforded by an
infant's instantaneous recognition of the most imperfect representative
symbol of a known object, and its ready coimexion of an idea of such
an object with the name of it, ii few times repeated.

This power, need we say, is perfectly distinct from perception.
When I look upon a book, or any external object, I instantly form a
notion of it, of a particular kind. I know it is an external body,
numerically distinct from myself, of a certain form, colour and magni-
tude, at this moment and in this place, externally before me. When
I handle an object, I have the same notion, the quality of colour only
excepted. This knowledge is called perception. And now, supposing
the object of perception removed, the act ceases, but a knowledge of
the object is still present to my mind. This is called a conception, and
it is in this acceptation that we use it. It is different, too, from mem-
ory. In memory, there is the assurance or the belief that, at a certain
time, these objects actually existed as I now conceive of them. There
is the perfect recognition of the things remembered, as having been
presented to my senses at a certain time and in certain circumstances.
But we can easily separate the act of conception from that of memory.
I can conceive of a certain tree, or cataract, or garden, without con-
necting it with the idea either of present or past existence, or the
circumstances under which I formerly saw it ; and this is the mean-
ing we attach to the faculty under consideration. In like manner, it
might be shown, that this faculty differs widely both from abstraction
and imagination.

But we think enough has been said to indicate the meaning we
attach to the power under consideration, and to point out, not only its
necessity, but its vast importance in the mental system both of the
very young and of the adult of our population.

Position and Importance of this Faculty. This power is inval-
uable. Without it, the passing moment — the impression or sensation
of the instant, would be the sum total of our intellectual life — of our
conscious being. The horizon of our mental vision would extend no
further than our immediate present perceptions. The past would be

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^ blank, as dark, and dreary and uucortain as the futuro. Conception
liglits u[) the otliorwlsc dreary waste of pa.st existence, and, reprodue-
ing the former scenes and objects, gives us mental possession of all
that we have been, as well as of tlie present moment ; lays at our feet
the objects of all former knowledge. The mind thus becomes, in a
moa^ure, independent of sense; and the external world. What it has
(Mice seen, heard, felt, becomes its permanent possession, even when
the original object of perception is far removed. " T may have seen
the grand and stately minster, or the snowy alp. but once in my life ;
but ever after it dwells among my conceptions ; and in after years on
ollior continents, and amid far other scenes, that vision of beauty and
grandeur passes before me as an angelic vision ; that succession of
sweet sounds traverses ai^ain the silent chambers of the brain, with
all the fresliness of first reality. It is only a conception now, but
wlio shall estimate the worth of that simple power of conception."

And if such is the importance of this foculty to all classes, it is
especially so to the young. It is the earliest developed, and the first
to reach its maturity. It supplies materials aiul a basis for every
other mental operation. And this is all the more enhanced when we
take into account the fact that there is no intellectual energy more
sasceptil)le of improvement by discipline, or more likely to I'cpay the
pains bestowed upon it, as conducive to ulterior mental operations.
Education of this Faculty. And what are the means to be employed
in the culture of this faculty ? AYhat is best fitted to impart to it
vi\acity and precision.

We have already shown, in our discussion of the perceptive, how
much of the conceptive depends on the thorough use of our ol)serva-
tional powers, and especially the sense of sight. The more closely we
examine and analyze any object for ourselves, the more likely are we
to increase the vivacity, and precision and permanence of the concep-
tive taculty.

But as much, if not more, depends on the state of the emotions for
deepening the impressions, and thereby giving vivacity to the concep-
tions. Many familiar facts establish what we now affirm, and show
that it is feeling in its various degrees and kinds, from the gentlest
pleasurable sentiment to the most overwhelming hurricane of the pas-
sions, that stimulates the senses, and fixes indelibly upon the mind the
impressions of external objects. The poetic character turns upon this
connection between the emotions or the sensibilities and the concep-
tive faculty. The poet is one whose keen susceptibility or whose pro-
foiuid affections give a tenfold intensity to whatever, in external
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nature, has in any way the power to move the human mind. Poetry
is a picture of the external world, painted in those vivid colours that
are supplied by refined and intense emotions. The cherished recol-
lections of childhood are those treasuries of the conceptive faculty
which have been consigned to its keeping, under the influence of vivid,
pleasurable emotions. It is always those classes whose course of life is
the most adventurous, and whose passions — whose hopes and fears, are
liable to be wrought up to the highest pitch, that are the most distin-
guished by a bold and graphic style of speech, — whose descriptions of
scenes are the most impressive, and whose epithets have the mgst
striking appropriateness. The more agitating emotions of the mind,
and its stormy passions, serve to give force and permanence to the
conceptions. And what is to be done for this purpose ? What means
should be employed to rouse the emotions ? A visit once and again
to some mountainous district, or to some romantic locality, or to some
scene of historic fame, will be of great utility. Another means of
great service is the society of those of kindred sentiment, and, if pos-
sible, of higher impulses than ourselves. Whatever are the branches
of education taught, we ought to deal, not with the technical nor the
ratioclnative, but with the descriptive. This should be done, especially
with every thing borderhig on the sciences.

Another powerful means for the culture of the conceptive faculty, is
language, — language " as the engine of the mind's operations — as the
record of its stores, and as the index to whatever is cognizable by the
external or internal senses."

In treating of language, as related to the conceptive faculty, we
have to do with the descriptive portion of it only ; that is to say those
words, whether verbs, adverbs, adjectives or substantives, which sig-
nify such properties and accidents of things as are cognizable by the
senses. The teacher, whether the actual objects he is speaking of are
before the eyes, or are graphically represented, or are merely embo-
died in language and realized in fancy, will remember that it should
be his aim, not only to convey a clear and vivid notion of those
objects, which he might effect, perhaps, by a few well chosen words ;
but also to establish a connexion in the minds of his pupils between
these objects and the entire compass of these descriptive terms that
might be associated with them, in the way either of resemblance,
contrast or negation.

In teaching languages, ' " v process would be greatly facilitated by
confining the learner's attention, in the first instance, or, so far as could

SCIENCE OP EPrCATION.

Vtc conveniently done, to the descriptive portion of each, this Xmng the
■class of words most readily taken np by the miud.

But there remains a process of another sort, highly useful in ilself,
as well as in relation to that command of knowledge which we wish
to ensure, and to the enrichment of the conceptivo faculty. To ex*
plain what is here meant, the reader must be reminded that the voca*
bulary of Words relating to the visible appearances and sensible pro-
perties of the external world, is, if we speak of it in a mass, a record
of general facts, cognizable to the human mind through the senses.
And whereas no human mind, however nice in its perceptions, or exact
and excursive in its habits of observation, ever takes account of more
than a portion, and probably it is a very small portion, of the sensible
«(}ualitie3 and shades of difference which are actually cognizable by
man, a copious and refined language, such, for example, as our own,
contains the recorded notices of thousands of minds, and of minds of
jvll classes, and of all degrees of precision.

If the most frequentlv used words or epithets of a language are
taken as representing the broad perceptions of the mass of mankind,
and as snfRcient for all ordinary description and narration, there yet
remain in reserve several sets of terms, representing the more exact
or more penetrating perceptions of minds whose faculties have been
•exercised and sharpened by peculiar pursuits, or by the habit of admit-
ting intense sensations. Take, for example, a storm at sea : we
would require a common observer — the poet — the marine painter — the
old sailor, and the man of science, to give a description of whatever
passes under their eye. And suppose we take the entire compass of
phrases employed by these several persons, and expunge the foW
which may be strictly synonymous or undistinguishable in sense, the
copious collection will then constitute a vocabulary corresponding with
all the appearances that are cognizable by the human eye during a
sea storm. The set of phrases employed by the first observer embra-
ces only the most obtrusive features of the scene ; those introduced by
the second, have the effect of extending and refining our conceptions
on all sides ; and thus, in succession, a third, a fourth, and a fifth pair
flf eyes is lent to us ; and by the aid of each, and through the inter-
vention of language, we are made mentally the spectators of the
scene five times over, and until nothing scarcely remains unnoticed or
unthought of.

But words are at once our guides, and our goads, and our stimu-
lants, in pei'ception, and the indicators of the less obtrusive class of
'sensible facts. There are many thousand appearances iu nature

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'.fliich would never aiTcst tho eye, nnd of wliidi we hliouM take u6'
iovt of ('o;;iiiz;uice, if wc hud not lirst conu; to the knowledj^e of the
word whicli notes tlie [nirticuhir pheiionienon, :ui<l thetiee been led to
look for its archetype in nature. IlluHtraiioiiiH of all this abound in
every departuK'nt of nature and of art. Take up a lu/tanical hof)k, for
exaniph;, lUul-Kx)!; at the lonj; catalocut! of terms eniployi'd to (Userihc
the tlillerent parts of the leaf of a [ilant. A eonunon olKsener would
see only sonie half dozen of propertieH, and would name them
uccoi'dingly ; whereas the pr;u;tised eye of the botanist sees dozens of
j>roi>erties, general antl i>articular, and appends an api)ropriate nomen-
clature to them all, lllling. wlioU; e<4umns of the book. Take, again,
the variation.s' ill :> pulse. A novitiate! could only give three or foin
epithets, whereas a pra(!tis(!d and *kilfid physician could give a scon
and more.

The actjuisition of the entire con>past> of a universal Nocabulary of
descriptive words, in our own hmgnage, may therefore l)e CMisidered as
the chief preliminary work of int«llettual education. If llii.i labour be
tJioroughly itehieved, the wind is placed in a position, whence it may
advance with e;ise and success, in any direction it may choose-

It is by means of classifuatiou that we nuist abbreviate ou.r toils in
this deparhnent of study. Thia may be done both concretely and
ivbstractly. Here we may pcirceive the whole glory of giving pictorial
representations in words. Drawing and luodelHng in all their modes
should be considered as another admirable supi)lenientary means for
bringing the eye and the mind into intimate communion with nature.

For several of the [rrecediug hints on the culture of this faculty,
we are indebted to Isaac Taylor's Treatise on Home Kducatioii.
That distinguished author devotes two chapters to the education of the
ConeejHive Faculty, which we eai-nestly recomniend to tho stiuly of
our readers*

Memouy.

Nature of Faculty. But man has something more than the simpio
power of i>erception or conception of objects and things ; — 'he has also'
power aver the element of tin>e. He can summon to his aid the
knowledge he luxs dsrived from- the intuitions of his senses, at a partic-
ular \avuq and in particular circumstaiices, and render that knowledge
subservient to his immediate wants and necessities. And what he now
labours to acquire, and, with uuremitting^ diligence, to store up in his
mind, he has the satisfaction of knowing, may be turned to account on-
some future occasiou — may never be entirely obliterated. Thi>^

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■facnlty is dosignatec? ruemory, which, when in oxorciso, i:« t'liHcd
n'liKnnlx'riii^, and when tliat (.'xercise (huniuids Komo effort, TCRolIcct-
iiii^. It (lifVcrs from the faculties nlrcady discussed; — from |H*rcc|)tioii,
,jn that it <?oes not im|)iut kiioulciljirt* tVoir. ohjecrs or tliiuiis ])rcsen( to
the sense, it is ciidy the iiuaijc. or i(h"ft, or re[)re«ci:tati()n of tlicse ;
from conception, in that it is uniformly accompanied by the Ixdief, that
&t sorae forreer period, and in a certain place, the olye.ct or the thing
Tcmemhered was the subject of our conseiousness or p"Cce}ition.

TluTC is net, perhaps, one mental endowment, which, whetlwM* regard-
ed in its natural or artificial asptict, manifests agreater diversity of phase.
The tlu'(-e properties — snsci^ptibility, ret^ntivene^s and promptitude —
when found in highest <legree, an' generally h. «ked upon as constitut-
ing a perfect or complete memory, or, at fiH events, as essential to a
};ood memory. In strict propriety, however, tlue middle attribute is
the only one that rightfnlly belougs to this faculty. The first and last
are dependent on other laws aud circnmstances foi' tlieir origin and
development. Nevertheless, W(5 can see no great harm in regarding
them all as appertniinng loss or more to this power, or, nt all events,
as lateral appendages. But be this as it may, tkcs') properties are
r.eldom foKud united, iu a high measure, in any one individual. If
there is great susceptibility, there m a corresponding diraiiujtion of
retentivencsH ; and, if retentiveness is largely developed, the other two
nvQ defective projiortioually. This h not onJy easily accounted for,
but holds prominently up to view at onee the benignity and wisdon)
of the Giver of all our gifts. Not only doer, memory differ subject-
ively, hut objectively. Sorae are characterize*! for reraemberLng facts,
whether names, or dates, or number, or individiual objects ; and
*)thers, for general laws and priiK^iples : and in each there is tlie great-
est possible difference in the degree. And fhis diversity in the
endowment itself is largely affected and modified by external oircum-
'^tanccs. Age seems to tell more extensividy upon this than any other
faculty. Tf amongst the first that develo])es itself, it ir, also amongst
.•he first that manifests s.ymptoms of decrepitude and docay. It alse
presents a diversity of phase in every epoch of intellectual nnravel-
Jing. In infancy and chiltlhood it is the memory of facte ; in ytjutli, of
kws and principles ; and in riper years, it evinces a fur higher com-
mand or control over botli. And hov/ beautifully again doe*? this
irrnngoment prepare and ripen the intellect for its loftier and more
+ nnobling ojierations and processes ! Education, too, need we say.
produces immense influence on the development of this faculty. It is,
!^e believe, universally admitted that there is no endowment so sus-

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eeptible of improvement, and that, in a shorter period, than memt>rj-.
Tliis is manifest by the niarvellous feats it adiieved in ancient times™
Since the inveutioii of i)rinting and other modem improvements, the-
faculty has not boon put on the same sti-etch, or siibjectet^l to the same-
amoiuit of j>ressiwo. Still, no bouinds can be fixed to its expansion^
when fairly tested — whew the ediicational process is legitimtitely direct-
ed — the original idea clearly and vividly appreliende<1, and the
co-existe«t emotion rousing and thrilKng. Let any one honestly, and
industriously, and perseveringly, put the matter to the test, and a
week's experience even, will produce the most astounding effects. All
this \vill l^e gi'eatly affected and modified by early habits and profes-
sional pursuits. If tliese habits and piu'suits are of such a character
as to d'eumnd the niiemory of wx^rds, or figures, or dates, or names, or
laws, or principles, the memory necessarily becomes accastomed to
t-iat partiCTiiiar work, and rises to the highest perfectibility in any of
these depaii'fnients. But the effect of certain states of the body upon
memory, is, })erh»ps, the most astounding phenomenon in ccwinexiou
with extei'nal influences. The most indubitable testimony has beeiiD
given over and over again of the case of individuids, who, in the first
stages of the disease, which terniiinated their earthly existeiice, spak(^
only the language of the country where they lived ; at a more advanced
stage, the langiuige of the country in which they previously resided ;
and in the litst stage, in their own vernacular. Instances, too, are oit
record, of individuals who, in certain states of the body, have recited
whole pages of foi'cigu languages, which they only casually overheard^
whea ia health and strength, and without the least effort at remem-
brance. This seems to give some countenance, at least, to the idea
tliat, in certain states of the physiri\l organiaation, whatever may have
passefl ilirough the mind, mny be sumimoned up and spread in array
before us. How solemnizing is such a view in reference to the eter-
nity of oua* existence I

Its importance and appMcation. The imjjortance of this facolty, al!
are ready to adreat. It is through its exc^rcise that we obtain evidence
of our peisonal identify. Memory is the only voucher that we had'
any previotis existence — that we existed at all at any period antc".'-
dent to the- present moment. Without it, we could only be conscious,
of the present raeoment ; and even that would he doubtful, inasmuch
as we are only conscious, a-s cognizant of change.

Memory is the grand repository of all the knowledge we derive
fron\ our observation or the observation of others in whatever way
«Qti -' "^d to us,, by boots or otkerwise.. We may store up valuable

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

119

facts or truths, which, if remembered, might prove of immense ser-
vice to us ; we might be devourers of books, and toil hard to master
their contents, but if we have no memory what does it avail.

Memory is essential for the exercise of all our mental powers, whe-
ther intellectual, sensational or voluntary. "Without it, we could
neither compare, nor classify, nor generalize, nor reason. And just in
proportion to the health and vigour of memory will be our capability
of doing justice to these reflective and other more exalted mental
operations. Without it, success would not be attainable in the com-
mon transactions of every day life. Business men of all descriptions
are a,^ dependent upon this faculty as professional, or as men of liter-
ature and science. They are even more so, and, consequently, with-
out it, all worldly transactions would be at an end, and the clock of
commerce would ciiase to beat.

As the servant of human happiness, the influence of memory is
great. Moralists have descanted upon the short-livedness, the eva-
nescence of all earthly enjoyments. " Memory seizes the passing
moment — fixes it upon the canvas, and hangs the picture on the soul's
inner chamber, for her to look upon when she will. Thus, in an
important sense, the former years are past — not gone. We live them
over again in memory. Even to the mourner, memory is the source
of highest gratification. There is a luxury in our very grief, and in
the remembrance of that for which we grieve. We would not forget
what we have lost. Time assuages ou** grief, but impairs not the
strength and sacredness of those associations, nor diminishes the plea-
sure with which we recall the forms we shall see no more, and the
scenes that are gone forever. Every memento of the departed one is
sacred ; the books — the flowers — the ftivourite walks — the tree, in
whose shadow he was wont to recline, — all have a significance and a
value which the stricken heart only can interpret, and which memory
only can afford."

In one word, and to wind up the matter regarding the importance
of this liiculty, we hesitate not to aver, that no one can be truly great
who is not possessed of a good memory. In consequence of some
having what are considered great memories, with their other powers
considerably below mediocrity, if not mentally deficient, it hath been
seriously questioned by some whether great memories could consist
with common sense or with ordinary soundness of judgment ; and not
a few, in consequence, anxious to get rid of the labour attendant on
the cultivation of this faculty, have done their utmost in spreading
disparaging views on the whole subject of its improvement, if they

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have not broadly deelainied against even a good memory as indicative
of general feebleness of intellect. This is a grievous and hurtful
ilelusion. It is (|uite true that what are called great memories, but
not in reality so, have sometimes been possessed by individuals -with
their general intellect bordering on insanity, if not actually semi-
idiots ; and who did not even understand, and far less carry into prac-
tice, the sentiments embodied in the vocables they so dexterously
recited. But what of this ? How often have particular faculties of
towering and out-shining lustre been bedimmed and obscured by others
in closest juxta-position. But this is not a fair way of dealing with
the subject. The question is not whether great memories have not
been claimed oftentimes by little minds — by intellects palpal)ly defect-
ive in other respects, but whether great minds have been manifested
without great memories — whether men of towering genius have ever
appeared on the theatre of the world, without memories of the same
commanding calibre. This is the true form in which the question
ought to be put, and, when thus put, you may defy and challenge the
whole world. Were not Liebnitz, Milton, Johnson, Scott, Napoleon,
Cuvier, Goethe, Sir William Hamilton, great and extraordinary men,
and did they not manifest the same greatness in memory as in any
other faculty ? Nay, we are prepared to go a step higher, and to
maintain that no one can be entitled to. the epithet, whose memory, to
say the least, docs not equal his other powers. Memory is essential
to all intelligent action. Could there be a stronger testimony of the
value of this faculty than is furnished by the name given to it by the
ancients, signifying, as it did, the whole mind, as if it formed the very
tissence — the heart — the chief characteristic.

Education of Memory. Enough has su/ely been said respecting
tlie nature and iiaportance of this faculty, to demand not only the
utmost sagacity, but the most painstaking assiduity in its culture. Like
every other faculty, if it is to be strengthened and expanded, if com-
mon justice is to be done it, according to its worth, use is the grand
hpecilic ; and the province, the high responsibility of the trainer, is so
to regulate and guide that use or exercise, that the end miiy be accom-
plished.

If, as has been hinted, much, we had almost said, everything, relative
to the power of memory, depends on the clearness and vividness of the
original iuq)ression or i<lea, the ollice of the trainer is {)lainly two-foM :
lirst, to use every available means for this object, and thou, having done
so, to see that the specific work of the memory is thorough, is out and
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SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

121

and means employed. Take the following as a sample : — 1st. The
teacher must exert his skill and energy in explaining what is difficult,
and in simplifying what is intricate. Any technical or conventional
terms must be carefully singled out and unfolded. The drift and scope
of the whole sentence must bo clearly set forth, as well as the distinct
import of the various subordinate clauses. The teacher must have it
as his unwavering aim and puipose, that whatever is deposited in this
foculty is the memory of the understanding, and not the memory of
words, and consequently that all his instrumentality must be called
forth, not after hut before the class has mandated the task. This im-
plies the most diligent previous study and preparation, as well as the
utmost fiiithfulness, on the part of the trainer. But the expenditure
of the one and the other of these will be amply compensated by the
intelligence and progress of his pupils. 2nd. Another means to be
employed for aiding the understanding and vivifying the conception of
any one subject, is its presentation through the medium of a diagram,
or picture on the black-board. The power of the sense of sight in
helping to impress the mind, has already been adverted to, and
should be reiterated on every befitting occasion. This is particularly
the case with the young, who are for more under the influence of their
senses than the riper in years, and whose interests are far more likely
to be aroused and their attention secured when the words, however
correctly conceived or elo(piently expressed, are accompanied with
appeals to the senses, whether to one or to all. 3. In many cases, it is
impossible to present an object or a diagram in illustration of an idea.
It may chance, for example, that I am desirous to impress the mind of
my class with the ferocity of the tiger, or the harmlessness of the dove,
or the gentleness of the lamb, but though I had a living or a preserved
specimen that I could show, or though I had the most life-looking
picture I could place before them, I could not by such means convey
an impression of one or other of these habits or properties. Wliat,
then, am I to do ? I still present a picture, but it is not a picture to
tlielr senses, but to their imagination. 1 take hold of one or other of
these attributes, as illustrated by some object with which the class are
perfectly fomiliar, and, through a verbal picture, get a more vivid im-
pression produced on their understanding. The illustuation associates
a new with a familiar idea; an interesting and apposite image is pre-
t^ented ; and thus whatever is learned is more easily remembered. 4.
Another means for impressing any truth or event on the memory is
frccpient repetition. It is not enough for remembering, that we possess
a clear apprehension of any subject or principle, or rule, and that we

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can repeat it accurately and fluently. This may do well euon;/u for a
period, for a day, a week, or a month, but time, as is well khown, pro-
duces a marvellous effect upon this faculty ; and even those subjects
that seemed written as with an iron pen on its tablets, are gradually
effaced, until they are almost entirely obliterated. And what is the
best instrumentality to prevent such an occurrence? We know nothing
so effectual as iteration and reiteration, reviews and re-reviews, aye, and
until it becomes part and parcel of ourselves; aye, and until it is literally
interwoven in the warp of our mental web. 5. Again, to facilitate the
memory process, and to render the facts or truths that have been
committed, lasting and permanent, the knowlege acquired should as
speedily as possible be reduced to practice. It used to be no uncom-
mon occurrence to conduct children through the rudiments of a dead or
foreign language, committing to memory all the peculiarities connected
with inflection, rules of syntax, &c., without the slightest attempt to
reduce the same to practice, and to evince their utility by their appli-
cation. Nothing could be more tiresome, irksome, or repulsive. It
could not be surprising that in such circumstances, the pupils disliked
the grammar, the language, and everything appertaining to it. A
change for the better has, to a certain extent, at least, been effected in
these and similar exercises. As soon as the scholars have mastered an
inflection or learned a rule, they are required to reduce the whole to
practice in the construction of short and easy sentences. And the
same process is carried on till the grammar is finished. Thus they
become pretty well acquainted, both with the leading vocables and
structure of the language, before they take up the Delectus or any
common text-book, This renders further progress desirable for its
own sake, and learning is no longer a drudgery, but a pleasure.
Would that such a practice were generally prevalent ! Such are a few
of the means that the trainer may call into requisition as it befits the
exercise, with the view of deepening the impression and vivifying the
conception of any given subject or topic, and thereby of hanging it up
in the storehouse of the memory, that it may be of service whenever
the befitting opportunity presents itself. This is the real function of
the teacher, the instrumentality ho may bring into play. And having
thus done all that he can do, that his pupils may grasp the particular
thing to be remembered, fully, clearly, definitely, — it, and not some-
thing like it, or something about it ; his next concern must be to see
that it is got exactly, not only materially but formally correct. And
this must be done continuously, with every scholar and exorcise, from
the commencement of the e^ -.cational career on to its terrJnation.

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Imagination.

Nature of Facility. Tlie distinction between conception and con-
cept, the former signifying tlie act of the mind in conceiving, and
the latter, the result, or the thing conceived, may also be drawn be-
tween imagination and image. The image points to the result, or the
thing imaged, the picture, the idea, the creation. Tlie imagination
points again to the faculty :n exercise, or that act by which the mind
from the materials in its possession, makes a new combination or a
creation. The power then under consideration is neither the parts nor
elements, nor principles, on which it operates, nor the image or picture
which is produced by the act, but the act itself — the ideal act — the
power in exercise — the imagining or imagination.

Imagination, as thus defined, differs widely from all the faculties
already discussed. It differs from perception, which requires the
object to be presented to the sense as it actually exists ; in imagina-
tion it is only parts of the object, and these are not presented, but
represented. It differs from conception, in which the whole object or
thing is mentally reproduced, as it actually existed when presented to
the sense ; whereas, in imagination, there are only parts or elements
represented. It differs, too, from memory, which conveys not only a
mental reproduction, but a mental recognition of the thing perceived,
at a certain period, in a certain situation, and in certain circumstances ;
whereas this power is a pure fabrication, existing only in idea, but
capable of being reduced to the apprehension of the senses.

But, perhaps, a clearer view of this faculty may l>e obtained by an
illustration. I am a landscape painter of some repute, and I am
desirous to produce an ideal landscape of first rate character. How do
I proceed ? I first of all summon to my recollection all the l)eautiful
pieces or elements of the various scenes of which I have been an eye-
witness, along with all the more striking objects ; and, having narrowly
surveyed them all, and suspended them orderly in the chamber of my
memory, I proceed at once to the formation of the fictitious landscape.
At first, my conception is very vague and indistinct, and the various
elements or parts are but clumsily assorted and combined. I per-
severe, however, in my excogitating process, and gradually the picture,
the complicated image, looms up into shape — its form, and dimensions,
and general appearance, become more and more distinct. I subject it
again and again to my imagination, and rest not satisfied until I see
every object properly adjusted, and in its rightful position, until the
whole ideal landscape is as vividly before my mind's eye as any natural

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landscajiG was ever heforc my naked eye. This is a combination, k is
true, but it is more — it is a living thing — a new creation — a system-
atic whole, with all its adaptations, and arrangements, and adjustments.
This is the result, not of a series of contingencies, or of a chain of
events, when tlie mind is perfectly passive or indilferent, but of one
presiding, regulating and controlling power, — not of a complexity of
agents, but of one simple, active agent, different from all others, and
claiming absolute glory in its domain. This is no passing phantom —
no abstract speculation — no incomprehensible entity, but a something
capable of being gras[)ed, and weighed, and measured, and convertible
into a tangible reality — into an actual substantiality — of being subject-
ed to the senses. And surely such an agent is entitled to a distinct
appellation, and what more appropriate than imagination.

But we have said that the ideal must be such that it can be realized
— such that it can be reduced to actual manifestation. And need we
say that this may be done in a great variety of forms. It may be done
in words, either prose or verse, or in painting, or sculpture, or archi-
tecture, or in other fine arts. And this will depend on the endowment
of the individual. If he happens to have great fluency of speech — a
great command of vocables, it will take vent iu words — in strains of
oratory — in tropes of rhetoric. If he is possessed of rhythm — has an
ear gifted with a high appreciation of time, then it will assume the
form of poetry — it will burst forth in lyrics, tragedies or epies. If he
happen to have a good apprehension of form, the ideal will take effect
in architecture; and if along with this, colour, in painting. And what
is to guide in pursuing the one or the other of these inclinations or
directions ? It is that power which enables us to discern and to enjoy
the beautiful — the result of natural sensibility and of culture ; and not
only so, but to reduce the ideal of the imagination in aiiy one of the
fine arts that shall awaken the sentiment of the beautiful in the great
mass of those who may be eye-witnesses of the same. Two faculties
are thus indispensable in an eminent artist — a healthful and vigorous
imagination on the one hand, and a refined and cultivated taste on the
other. The one without the other will infallibly mar and tarnish the
whole.

Importance. There are few faculties of greater value, both in its
theoretical and practical — iu its intellectual and moral — in its direct
and indirect bearings, than the one under consideration. Without
imagination, this world would be dreariness indeed ; with it, the wil-
derness and solitary places are gladdened, and the deserts are made to
rejoice and blossom as the rose. To be more particular : it spreads a

thinrjs

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w autif III and I nvi<joratlnfi radiance over all our other poioers and sen-
Eibillties. " It gives vividness to our conceptions — it raises the tone of
our entire mental activity, — it ailds force to our reasoning, — casts the
light of fancy over the sonihre iiloddiiig steps of judgment, — gilds the
recollections of the past and the anticipations of the future with a
colouring not their own. It lights up the whole horizon of our thought
i;s the sunrise flashes along tlie mountain tops and lights up the world,"
It holds out a high standard of excellence for our aim in every em-
ployment, and furnishes a powerful stimulant with a view to its attain-
ment. " It forms and holds hefore the mind an idea of excellence in-
whatever we pursue, a standard of attainment practicahle and desirable,
but loftier far than any thing we have yet reached. To present suclr
an ideal is the work of the imagination, which looks not on the actual
but the i)os3ible, and conceives that which is more perfect than the
human eye hath seen or human hand wrought. No man ever yet at-
tained excellence in any art or profession, who had not floating before
his mind, by day and by night, such an ideal "nd vision of what he
iniijht and outjht to be and to do. It hovers before him and hang*
over him, like the bow of promise and liujio, advancing with his pro-
gress, ever rising as he rises, and moving onwards as ho moves ; he
will never reach it ; but v/^ithout it, he would never be what he is."

The jiassions of men, for good or for evil, are largely under the
influence of the imagination, especially under the living voice of the
orator. We have seen the glory of this power in the case of all
employed in the fine arts, and how it refines and elevates humanity.
As a weapon in the hand of the skilful orator, it is all-influential.
Perceiving by this power some resemblance or contrast in objects, or
things with which his auditors are familiar, he seizes upon it as an
illustration of the idea or truth he is earnestly endeavoring to send
liome or give effect to, and as the one is done another is ready ; and
these not only thrill the m^ind and rouse into highest ecstacy ; they
please and persuade. Hence the whole power of figurative language
—of metaphors — emblems, and the like. But fictitious and imaginary
narration or delineation is just as influential as plain, truthful state-
ment. Hence the power of the parables of our Lord. Hence the
charm and the enchanting enthralraent of such allegories as * Bun-
yau's Pilgrim's Progress,' and the other writings of that extraordinary
personage. It is by operating through this power on the minds of the
rising generation, — that power so early developed, and so omnipotent in
its sway, — that the whole value of picturing out in words depends.
"The genius of the orator and the inventive powei' of the poet,"^ says-

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Abercrornbie, "are exliibiteil in the variety and novelty of tlio analo*
gies, resemblances, illustrations and figures which he thus brings to
bear upon his subject."

IJut again, the sound and proper exercise of the imagination may be
made to contribute to the cultivation of all that is virtuous and estima-
ble in human character. It loads us in particular to place ourselves in
the situation of others — to enter into their feelings and hearts, and to
participate in their distresses. It thus tends to the cultivation of sym-
pathy and the benevolent affections, and promotes all those feelings
which exert so extensive an influence in the duties of friendship and
the harmonies of civil and social intercourse. We may even say that
we exercise in-igination, when we endeavor to act on that high stand-
ard of morals, which require us " to do to others as we would that they
should do to us." For in this mental act, we must ourselves be in the
situation of other men, and, in their character, judge of our conduct
towards them. Thus, a man deficient in imagination, though he may
be free from anything unjust or dishonorable, is apt to be cold, con-
tracted and selfish — regardless of the feelings, and indifferent to the
distresses of others.

Farther, we may be said to exercise imagination when we carry our
views beyond present and sensible objects, and endeavor to feel the
power of things that are not seen, and the reality of scenes and times
yet to come.

The Education of Imagination. If this power exerts the influence
assigned to it, it surely demands the most profound study — the most
painstaking assiduity — the most persevering diligence in its cultiva-
tion ; as it is in very proportion to its enlargement that its usefulness
is realized, and that it can be rendered subservient to the ends intended.
Like every other power, the imagination expands and grows by use.
And the grand question here, as elsewhere, is. What are the means best
ud.ipted for promoting this expansion and growth. This endowment is,
n ^ doubt, more largely developed naturally in some than in others, but
there are few, if any, in whose breast it does not dwell to a certain ex-
tent ; and that from a period almost contemporaneous with the per-
ceptive. What but this gives the young, even before they are able to
read, such delight in listening to stories or legends about ghosts — •
about mysterious, miraculous appearances in some dark and dreary
recesses, where the foot of man has seldom or ever trod. This mani-
fests itself again at a more advanced stage, in the perusal of such books
as Cinderella, Robinson Crusoe, Don Quixotte, Pilgrim's Progress, and
the like ; and at a more advanced stage, the perusal of novels and

SCIKNCE OF EDUCATION.

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poetry; and at a more remote period still, the construction of ideal
landscapes, or of models of certain orders of architecture. These pro-
pensities and tendencies should guide the educationist in the adminis-
tration of his various appliances in the cultivation of this power. Wo
give below a mere enumeration of those exercises best adapted to each
successive stage of development ; and of these we give a sample. The
position and circumstances of individuals can supply any number more.

1. Building of pyramids, bridges, houses, &c., by means of the box
of bricks.

2. Directing out-door ganies, in a way calculated to call forth this
power as well as to impart physical relaxation.

o. Explaining and illustrating truth — moral and spiritual lessons,
through means of familiar objects, the inmiaterial by the material — the
invisible by the visible — the eternal by the temporal or natural — the
infinite by the linite. This introduces the whole subject of word-
painting, and this may be continued through every stage.

4. Directing attention to the various figures of speech — showing
their aptness or inaptness, &c., and criticising works of imagination of
various descriptions.

T). Studying the productions of the various masters in the fine arts —
in poetry, painting, architecture, sculpture, and the like ; whatever
department the mind of the pupils may evince an inclination for. It
is by a diligent and careful study of a few of the best writers and best
works, and not by the hasty reading or cursory inspection of many,
that we derive the greatest benefit from the classics of our own or any
other country. We must not only read or glance at, but we must
meditate on, the beautiful and sublime, until we feel the full force of
their analogy — until we are baptized with their baptism, enlightened
with their light, inspired with their spirit, and fired with their fire.

G. But the best school for the cultivation of imagination, and to
which all the others should drive us, is that of nature— of nature in all
her varieties of phase and force — mountains and vallies — seas and
rivers — prairies and river basins — sea-side and upland, — all that ia
beautiful, picturesque and sublime. It is here where the greatest mas-
ters in every department drank most copiously. The poetry of Homer
— of Shakspeare and Milton, is filled with the most gorgeous and glow-
ing imagery, wlr ;h could only have been gathered from the closest
study, as she presented herself to them in their dissimilar walks of life.
And so with the other writers. . .

7. But we must go a step further still. The ideal, in all its most
sublime combinations — in all its magnificent scenes — in all its majestic

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creations, nuihi be cultivated and reduced to practice, iu whatever
department wo happen to select as our sphere. If it is descri|)tive
writing, we should write earnestly, having an end in view, and deeply
interested in our elForts to attain it. Ini[)t;rf'ection and failure, instead
of discouraging, should only inspire us with more determined energy.
Nothing was ever cxquisiti'ly finished without unwearied and i)atient
labour, and at the cost of repeated and mortifying disappointment.
We must be patient with ourselves, and not expect to do without labour,
what no other man has ever acconijdished. Paradise Lost was the
work of a lifetime. Every line of Cowper's poetry cost him, on an
average, half an hour. And if such incessant toil were necessary to
success in minds so highly gifted, surely ordinary men need not expect
to succeed without it.

Generalization.

Rejlcctiuc Class. Hitherto we have contemplated objects or things
concretely, in whole or in part, whether as j)resented to the senses or
represented to the mind. We are now to contemplate them abstractly,
or iu their relations, properties or (pialities. The mind, in the facul-
ties already considered, is to be regarded as the active recipient — as
the jfatherer iu of knowledge ; hero it is to be looked at in another
aspect altogether, either as comparing, combining, classifying, general-
izing, or as analyzing, dividing, sub-dividing, &.C., the knowledge it hath
stored up. As there are, generally speaking, just two relations in
which we can look at our conceptions, either as parts in relation to the
whole, or as the whole in relation to its parts, — that is, systematically
and analytically ; so there are just two powers, or classes of powers,
which the mind puts forth in this department, viz., generalizing and
reasoning, to each of which we now solicit attention. And first as to
generalization.

Nature of Faculty. This is that faculty by which we transform our
conceptions of individuals into conceptions of generals — by which we
proceed from particulars to classes — by which our isolated notions are
converted into a coherent systematic wliole. All our ideas of things
are complex. I saw a lily, yesterday, and, to-day, I have a distinct con-
ception of this plant. But though I can form a complicated concep-
tion of this lily, apart from all surrounding plants, I see it as possessed
of various attributes or qualities ; the white colour, the tall stalk, the
green leaves, the agreeable fragrance of this lily. I direct my special
attention to the white — the pure white of the flower. I examine
another lily — it also U white ; and another, and another. This quality

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

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is no longer that of lily No. 1, but of them all. I inspect a snow-drop,
and it possesses the same quality ; I go from flowers to animals,
and the white quality belongs to all. I now conceive of it as a
quality by itself, and I call it whiteness. It is no longer the quality of
a lily, or of any other object, but it is the abstract conception of white-
ness. I look at other objects, and see some of them to bo possessed of
red, some of green, and some of blue, &c. ; and this class of qualities I
designate colour. I have now obtained a conception of colour.
And so I might go on widening the range. Then I might return to
the original object — the lily — and take up other properties ; its form,
its size, its fragrance, and go through the whole abstractive, general-
izing process. Hence our conceptions of general terms — such as horse,
animal, form, strength, and the like ; and hence a large proportion of
the words in general use. They are the names or expressions of
general abstract conceptions ; abstract, in that they do not relate to
any particular object, — and general, in that they comprehend, and are
equally applicable to, a great variety of objects. And so is it in refer-
ence to words that imply action, or relation, or quality, and the like.
Hence the structure of language, and the facilities derived from it, both
in writing and speaking.

But it is not less so with the subject-matter of classification. We
no sooner see two objects in juxta-position, than we begin to compare
them, and to trace the points in which they agree and in which they
differ. We examine one object first, both in its external phenomena
and in its internal structure ; then we do the same with the other ;
and, leaving out of view the points in which they differ, we place them
together on the points in which they are the same ; we put them under
the same heading, and, by this very act, we have formed a general con-
ception, which lies at the foundation of all classification. This may be
very rude and imperfect at the outset ; but every attempt enlarges our
view of the objects compared — renders our knowledge more minute
and thorough, and our powers of discrimination more acute. These
more clumsy and rude attempts give place to more extensive know-
ledge and more penetrating power, and what was at first but a rough i
classification, becomes at last reliable generalization.

We are now prepared to take a higher position, and to present »<
specimen of our mode of procedure in scientific classification. I see -a
cow, for example, and I proceed to inspect and examine it. 1 note
down the leading features, both of external phenomena and internal
structure. I compare this description with all the other species, and
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at once concluilc that this is a species. I then compare it with others,
strongly resembling it in its leading characteristics, and yet differing in
a few points, and these not material. Wherever I find these speci-
mens, I observe the same as distinct species, under the same genus ;
and so I proceed to wider generalizations, and comprehend, under one
category, all the animals that chew the cud, giving them the name of
ruminautia. I proceed still further in my generalizing process, and
call the next highest mammals, or quadrupeds. Not content with this, I
generalize still further — give the next stage the designation of verte-
brata, embracing all animals that have a back bone in contradistinction
to those that have not.

It is in the way now described, that we form genera and species, and
tlio various classes into which, for purposes of science, we divide the
multitude of objects which are presented in nature, and which, but for
this faculty, would appear to us a confused and chaotic assemblage,
■without number, order, or arrangement. The individuals exist in
nature, not the classes, and orders, and genera, and species. These are
the creations of the human mind — conceptioiis of the brain — results of
that process of thought now described as the reflective faculty iu its
synthetic form.

The Position and Importance of Generalization. 1st. This faculty
rivets the attention and whets the powers of observation. It has already
been stated, that in every act of abstraction, we must necessarily
direct our minds to one particular (juality of the complex conception.
There is here no new power required, but simply an earnest atten-
tion of the sense or senses involved. There must be something
more than the mere opening of the eye and the stretching out of
the to enable us to discover the various properties or relations

,• submitted to our observation. There must be the entire
/(.edness — the profound attention of the mind, before the sense is
Alietted to put forth that energy which is necessary for d awing nice
distinctions, and for making that thorough analysis which has escaped
the detection of those who have preceded us. " Truth," says an erai-
aient writer, " reveals herself, not to those who pay her mere formal
and perfunctory service, but to those who render to her the earnest
and heartfelt homage of the whole soul." And in order to this, an
interest must first be awakened iu the mind.

2. And this is the best possible preparation for the analysis of .cen-
tal phenomena — for the devection of all the changes and relations that
may take place in our consciousness. This is a more difficult task.
In tlie investigation of external objects and things, the attention and

8CIENCR OK EDUCATION.

131

If nien-
lis that
It task'
)n and

interest of the mind aro much aidotl by the presentation of the objects
or tirni<5s to the sense or senses adch-essed. There is no such auxiliary
or handmaid in the investigation of the purely mental phenomena.
To keep the mind steadily and patiently fixed upon itself — to watch
its varied workings, and teachings, and revelations — to observe and
trace to tlieir origin and their ultimiite effects the changes and
shades of diff*oroncc that may come over us, require an effort and a
fixedness of purj)Oso which time and experience alone can impart.
Nevertheless, it is attainable : and there is no stepping-stone so suit-
able and advantageous as the acipiisition of the habit of sensible
analysis. And what a noble attainment this ! In what but in this
tloes real superiority of mind consist ! All possess the perceptive in
full operation. The grand difference between a great and a su])erfieial
mind is this, that the former has the power and habit of continued
thought — of patient following out to its ultimate results the know-
lodge we obtain through our senses ; the latter has no such power or
liabit. ^

.'{. By this faculty, the mind becomes liabituatcd to trace both the
objective and subjective to first principles or laws ; and this is of vast
practical utility. The very object of the faculty is to trac3 the rela-
tions of things. It cannot accomplish its end by the mere observance
of external phenomena. This is necessary ; but it is only so, as a
means to an end, namely, the tracing of the relations, and the princi-
ples or laws, on which these relations depend. And who can fail to
perceive the value of such a habit for all practical purposes, and, still
more, as a guide to conduct us in the accomplishment of our designs ?
We thus become acquainted with the way in which infinite wisdom
and benevolence works out Ilis plans and purposes, and we catch His
style, and imitate Ilis example. And is not this the royal road to suc-
cess in every undertaking ?

4. But again we have to remark, that, but for this faculty, no
real progress would be made in human knowledge, nor the sweets
of social fellowship enjoyed. It has been noticed that all the know-
ledge we obtain from the powers already considered, is the know-
ledge of fiicts, of isolated facts, without the least relation or cohesion.
Aiul had we no power to go beyond this, neither comparison nor
classification would be possible. All our knowledge would be but
tho knowledge of individual existences. Each object would then
become a study for us by itself, and no amount of diligence would
even carry us beyond the very alphabet of learning. And how
could we enjoy the benefits of social intercourse, if we hac' inedium

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of communication — no means of expression. And this we could not
have without this faculty. Then each particular object would require
to have a name peculiar to itself; and this would be an undertaking
altogether impracticable.

5. It is by this faculty mainly, that we see the order and system that
prevail throughout the Works and ways of Deity, and thereby taught
to recognize llim as a Being of perfect order — to admire and praise
the supremacy -^f His intelligence. The author of our being has seen
meet, for the ..isest and most important purposes, to present every-
thing to us in an individual character. There is no apparent system,
either in the natural or moral world — nay, oftentimes, the most incongru-
ous things are fou)id in close juxta-position. Need wo wonder, then,
that, to the superlicial observer, all things, both in the world of nature
and of grace, appear as one confuyed, chaotic assemblage, withort num-
ber, order or arrangement. By the legitimate application of this
faculty, however, all is changed, and changed most marvellously.
From the chaotic mass spring forth order, and harmony, and system,
of the most perfect character. And what view of the Divine work-
manship better calculated to inspire us with awe and reverence, and, at
the same time, with love and gratitude to the great original ? And how
kind and benevolent the arrangement by which all the objects, both in
the world of nature and grace, are presented to us in disunited individ-
uality, that provision might thereby be furnished for the emi)loyment
of our rational, and aesthetical, and moral powers, and that our convic-
tions that the omniscient Creator is the God of system, might be the
result of the legitiuiate and persevering application of these powers ?

G. By this faculty, moreover, it is clear that we obtain a sound and
safe view of the properties, the virtues rnd uses of all things, both in
the natural and moral world. All these are designed for the direct
benefit of the human species, — all arc subservient to the promotion of
man's teniporal and eternal interests. By the use of this faculty, we can
most expeditiously and safely arrive at this knowledge. How stupen-
dous, then, its im[)ortance ! How direct its bearing, both on the cha-
racter and perfections of the Deity, and on the welfare and happiness
of the human species ! And how zealous should be our endeavours to
see that it is properly and wisely cultivated I

£ducatiou of this Faculty. This faculty is susceptible of the great-
est improvement, and its education may, and ought to be, commenced
at the earliest period. Is not the training to habits of neatne'^s,
and ordei*, and regularity, a part of this education ? Is not this the
best possible preparation for the exercise of this faculty ? Is not

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

188

its culture alrcidy at work ? And may not all tins be begun, even
before the child is capable of walking ? To be somewhat more par-
ticular: — 1st. This faculty is exercised in every branch of education,
the most alphabetical and initiatory, provided that branch is taught in
a rational way. The very separation of the vowels and consonants —
the most elementary reading lesson — the simplest exercises in addition
— the connection between the thing spoken of and what is spoken
regarding it, are all fitted, admirably fitted, when the understandings
of the young are enlisted, to develop and strengthen this faculty. The
utmost care must, however, here be taken, that the young, in reception
of this education, are not treated as machines. It is at the very com-
mencement of the educational course that the greatest damage is per-
j)etrated. Teachers, in too many instances, have neither the art nor
the inclination to adapt themselves to the unfolding of the infantine
mental bud ; they compel their pupils ofttimes to learn the most initia-
tory lesson at the [)oint of the rod, and thus the reign of educational
serfdom begins. Let teachers but submit to the drudgery or the self-
(lonial of rendering their scholarship instrumental in making the reei-
tatio.\ lessons of their pupils plain, and simple, and intelligible, and this
faculty would grow and expand apace.

2. Grammar, when taught synthetically, is well fitted to cultivate
this power. By its being taught synthetically, we mean taught as pre-
sented in text-books. In all grammars, language is arranged synthet-
ically, or as a science, and no science gives a better illustration of the
principle lying at the foundation of all science, than that of grammar.
When taught intelligently, and all its relations and dependencies care-
fully traced and pointed out, it cannot fail to expand and strengthen
this power.

3. The various branches of natural and physical science, also present
a capital school for the culture of this faculty. No where can we see
the varied relations of facts, and their laws of the whole process of
comparison and methodizing, of the whole principle of generaliza-
tion so palpably displayed, as in the different branches of natural
science. What more signal or beautiful in this respect than the great
lav; of attraction in its various mod(;s of development. Take it as it is
exhibited in chemistry or mineralogy — in geology or astronomy, and
what a glorious field of enquiry and research is thus presented. Were
the natural sciences studied in their great outlines, npt only would this
fiiculty be strengthened and expanded, but the best possible foundiition
laid for its application in ihe higher and diversified walks of psychology ;
and by the careful study of the laws and principles that reign in the

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world of mind, and a judicious classification of the same, how much
might not thereby be effected for the amelioration of the human spe-
cies — for the elevation and enhancement of the body politic — for the
reduction of those evils that naturally spring from the social compact.
Let but an order of sequence be discovered and established in the
world of mind, and especially in morals, and it is just as invariable as
an order of sequence in physics. The results vvhicli God has connected
with moral actions will invariably occur, all the created power in the
universe notwithstanding.

Reasoning.

Nature of Faculty. By this faculty we proceed fi-om the known to
the unknown — from the knowledge we already possess to the dis-
covery of that which is ovv and original.

This is the other iuLereut energy of the mind — the second of our
mental operations falling under the reflective. It is just the reverse
of generalization. In this we proceed from particulars to generals — in
that from generals to particulars.

All of every age and clime — educated and uneducated — manifest a
disposition to render the knowledge they possess, the platform on whicli
to erect the acquisition of new and additional knowledge. All have a
natural desire, when certain data are presented, to draw therefrom an
inference or a conclusion. If this be so, then, such and such results
will follow ; or, if the opposite, the results will be so, too. And what
is all this but proceetliug from the whole to its parts, and airirming of
the parts, just as wo do of the whole ? What is this but a succession
of judgments or acts of the mind, expressed by propositions, with cer-
tain inevitable conclusions, which conclusions must necessarily be of
the same nature with the propositions whence they emanate ? If the
pi'opositious are certain, so are the conclusions ; if probable, so are the
conclusions.

We have said that, in this process, we go on from the known to the
unknown ; and what does this imi)ly ? Plainly that we must possess
a certain amount of knowledge before we can proceeil one step, and
this as the foundation of all the other we ac(|uire ; and this knowledge
must be admitted by all with whom we reason. This has received
various designations. Sometimes it is callotl the knowledge of pri-
mary truths; and, at other times, of the principles of common sense, —
mother-wit. These truths have, for distinction's sake, been classified
us incomprehei'sible, simple, necessary and universal ; so evident, that
nothing more evident can be adduced to confuun them. Some of thcso

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SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

135

have a reference to truths that are altoijether unconditional, sucli as : —
The whole is greater than its parts — Things that are equal to the
same thing, are equal to one another ; and others, though equally cer-
tain, are conditional, such as : — The earth is a spheroid — All the
planets revolve round their centre. Reasoning, in the former case, is
called demonstrative, and is generally applied to mathematics ; the
conclusions are, like the axioms on which they are founded, absolute
and infallible ; such as that we cannot conceive them to be otherwise.
Reasoning, in the latter case, is called probable or moral, having for
evidence, testimony, experience and analogy. The conclusions here
may be just as certain as the preceding, though they are such as that
we can conceive them to be otherwise.

And these conclusions, it should never be forgotten — whatever
knowledge is logically arrived at by means of this faculty — are just as
valid as the axioms or first truths themselves, and may and ought to be
taken as the groundwork of erecting a more glorious superstructure.
And in this way there are no bounds to the extension of our know-
ledge, save the limitation of the human faculties.

The method by which we give expression and embodiment to this
process, is called the syllogism, meaning a reckoning altogether, or a
bringing at once before the mind. And what appellation could be
more appropriate, consisting, as the syllogism does, of an argument
stated in correct logical form, and made up of three propositions : — the
two first being the premises, (major and minor), and the last, the con-
clusion ; and having the property, that the conclusion necessarily fol-
lows from the two premises ; so that, if the premises ar* true, the con-
clusion must be true also ?

It is quite true that in argumentation, both by educated and unedu-
cated persons, the syllogism is not, in general, formally resorted to.
There is no need for it. The propositions are oftentimes so plain and
palpable, that it were altogether a work of supererogation to go
through all the various stages or steps in the syllogism. It is at times,
however, indispensable, and in nothing more so than in showing an
opponent the fallacy of his reasoning. Suppose, for example, I am
arguing to convince an opponent that Caesar was detestable, and fixil.
What do I do ? I take up at once the general proposition for my
major premise, " All tyrants are detestable." This is a proposition of
which the predicate detestable is the genus or class, comprising or
comprehending tyrants as one of its parts or elements. For my minor
premise, I take Ca3sar was a tyrant. The conclusion is irrefragable —
Civjsar was detestable.

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Importance of Faculty. That this power is of vast, of outstripping
glory, no one will, for a moment, hesitate to admit. It is not only the
power by which man is characterized as a rational being, but by which
he stands pre-eminent amongst all the other creatures of God in this
nether world. It is, too, the towering perfection of his intellect.
Man, without it, is principally a cognitive or recipient being, and even
that would be limited to whatever came under his observation or expe-
rience der the observation and experience of others. But by
this he c n in the acquisition of knowledge, ad infiiiitutn; because
every step soundly takes, but places him on a wider and more com-
manding area for the erection of a yet more gorgeous palace, than any
he has hitherto attempted to upraise.

2. This is the power by which man can most extensively benefit
himself — by which he can most fully promote both his own happiness
and that of his fellow creatures. Knowledge is power, is a truism
universally admitted. It is a tru'sm in the highest possible sense, when
rightly directed — that is, directed to the promotion of the noblest and
highest part of mau's being. It is in this that man's truest happiness
consists ; and it is by its diffusion, that he can most signally advance
the happiness of his fellows. And what but the power before us
imparts both the corner and cope-stone of all this knowledge, both
intellectual and moral ?

3. It is the power which assimilates man to his Maker, more com-
])letely than any other, and by which he can bring to Ilim the richest
revenue of glory. Omniscience or infinite knowledge is one of the
essential attributes of divinity. This is His royal prerogative, and it is
by this He asserts His superiority — His supremacy, over all. Man is
like Deity in this respect. He can accumulate knowledge, and by his
own efforts add to its stock. And by this he is able to bring a rich reve-
nue of glory to his Creator. All the creatures of Deity glorify their
Maker passively, inasmuch as they display- in every part of their
being, some lineaments of His perfection, lini it is more with man.
He glorifies God both passively and actively — that is, he can do so
with his heart — with his mind.

4. The nature of this faculty invests its education with unspeakable
value. We have already shown, in a great variety of ways, that every
accession we make in knowledge, by the legitimate application of this
power, we are but spreading out for it a broader platfurm. It is thus
clear and palpable that the more it is educated, we but render it the
more susceptible of improvement — we but place it on a higher vantage

begin U
larger
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the kuo
3. Ai

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

137

ground for a more panoramic prospect — for a more productive explo-
ration ; we but add to its capabilities.

Education of this power. Atteutiou has just been called to the
special enhancement of the importance of this power by education.
This arises from the nature of the power itself; and, by consequence,
demands that every possible effort be made for its culture. As else-
where, the grand specific for this object is the actual exercise of the
power itself. "We say actual, for too many seem to ii lagine, that if
tlie particular faculty intended to be cultivated, is but brought into
contact with the employment suited to it, it is all that is needed.
This is a grievous misapprehension. It is the digestion of the food,
and not the mere bringing of it in contact with the gastric juice, that
renders it contributive to the sui)port of the body. And so here ; it
is the faculty's actual exercise with I'-i subject most congenial to it,
that goes to the strengthening and developing of the faculty. The
French motto, '^1 coniiu .;, rinconnu,' is a principle now pretty gener-
ally admitted by all progressive teachers, but, in too many instances,
we fear, it is more by profession than by practice. This is pre-emi-
nently the principle that is adapted to this faculty. Let the teacher,
in approaching every new subject, be careful that he and his pupils
take their standpoint on the knoivn — the terra cognita. Let him
endeavour to make them connect that with the unknown — not to carry
them over, but make them walk over the bridge, guiding and directing
but still making them go themselves. This can, this ought to be done
at the very commencement of their educational career, and practised
more and more as they advance. In proportion as this power ex-
pands, — and it will be doing so the whole educational life, — let this
principle be applied with all the greater effect and to all the greater
extent.

rVnother means to be called into requisition for the exercise of

J-5

this faculty, is the storing of the memory with useful knowledge. It
is impussilde for us to reason well without the possession of large and
accurate knowledge. Reasoning is that process by which we pass
from the known to the unknown. The known, then, lies at the foun-
dation of the process. Unless there be something known, we cannot
begin to reason ; and the greater the amount of our knowledge, the
larger is our capability, — the more exact our knowledge, the more
successfully can we use it in the discovery of truth. He who would
enlarge the field of human knowhidge, must stand upon the limits of
the known, before he can expect to enter the field of the unknown.
3. Another means for educating this faculty is always to speak or

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write with an object in view; and for tliis purpose, to accustom our-
selves to read argumentative logical treatises, or such books as Butler's
Analogy, — such as, by a series of consecutive propositions, never fail
to arrive at certain definite conclusions. The perusal of such books
in connection with our own personal endeavours, will soon produce a
marked eiFect upon our jiowers of ratiocination.

4. Mathematics and the physical sciences are branches generally
recommended, as well fitted to exercise the reasoning power. This
they unquestionably do, but only when properly taught. IIow they
should bo taught, belongs to another department of our course.

5. iHigie, and the mental powers on which it principally depends,
should also be studied. This, of course, can only be systematically
done in more advanced Institutions. A good deal of logic, however,
may be taught incidentally, without any formal allusion to the word
or the science to which it belongs.

The Intuitive.

Tlie Facidtij itself. This is the faculty which gives rise to original
and independent ideas, occasioned by perception and consciousness ;
and which ideas, becnise they are seen or I'eceived by the mind inmie-
diately, without the intervention of argument or testimony, are called
Intuitions, and the faculty, the Intuitive.

This faculty differs from all the preceding powers of the mind, whe-
ther cognitive or reflective. It differs from the former, for it neither
presents nor represents any concrete object. However intimately
connected with perception and consciousness, it cannot be said to be
produced or originated by the one or the other. It is quite inde^iend-
ent of them both, and yei it would seem that it would not l)e awak-
ened into activity, save through these powers. It differs, too, from
the reflective or discursive faculties. It neither generalizes nor rea-
sons — it needs the aid neither of the synthetical nor analytical process.
Whatever truths or ideas are occasioned by perception or conscious-
ness, they arise instinctively. They are solely the result of the mind's
own actings — pure intellections, springing from its own inherent con-
stitution. The knowledge which this faculty imparts, is a knowledge
so essential for our guidance, that it cannot wait till the reflective
powers are devclojied.

This fiiculty manifests itself at the earliest conscious period in the
history of the child. Before the little prattler has left its mother's
arms, it accidentally puts iti finger into the flame of the candle. That
instant the sensation of pain is experienced, and the cause of that pain

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

130

is at once ascribed to the caiuUo ; and, in all time coining, it evinces
the utmost dread in approaching too near that or any similar ol)j(!ct,
according to the adage, " Burnt bairns dread the fire ;" or if it does
not, as by instinct or intuition, learn this lesson, we conclude that i
mind must be in an abnormal condition, — that it is, in short, an idiot.
And the same feature is manif'^^^ed throughout the whole future
career of the child. Scarcely has it aci^uired the power of walking,
than you see it deriving the highest gratification from knoc^king down
the pins with the ball. The first time it did this, it was alike astound-
ed and delighted. By the power of perception it saw a change pro-
duced. The ball it threw struck one of the pins, and down it fell.
Here ended its perceptive power. But the intuitive that instt' took
it u\) — conveyed the knowledge that the pin fell by reason . the
throwing of the ball ; — that this was the cause. But it did not stop
here. It went a step further, and immediately communicated the
intelligence, that a similar cause, in similar circumstances, would pro-
duce similar effects ; and, in the firm belief of this, it immediately pro-
ceeded to adjust the damage — put up the knocked-down pin — renewed
its power, and saw, to its great delight, the same efl'ect. So is it with
all i)rimary truths.

And it is the same with intuitive conceptions. Our little prattler
has now become an adult in the prime and vigour of his days, and a
cube is placed before him. He first of all applies to it all his percep-
tive faculties, and by these he obtains all the knowledge of its proper-
ties he is capable of discovering. He reflects on these various acts of
perception, and thus ho obtains a knowledge of the state of his mind
in performing these mental acts. Had he no other energies, his
knowledge would here stop. But if he reflects on his own cognitions,
he shall be conscious of much important knowledge, occasioned by
these mental acts. Let the object be removed to another place.
What is there where the cube formerly was, and where it is now ?
He then becomes conscious of the fact that it is a condition necessary
to the existence of all matter ; and he calls it space. He finds him-
self, therefore, in possession of an idea, revealed neither by percep-
tion nor consciousness, which, nevertheless, is cognized by the mind
from the necessity of its own nature. "Without })erception, it would
never have been cognized ; chronologically, therefore, it is subservient
to it. As soon, however, as he obtains this idea, he knows that it is
u necessary condition to the existence of that which is perceived. It
is necessary, physiologically ; for, without space, there can be no mat-
t( r. It is necessary, psychologically ; for he cannot conceive of mat-

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teacher's TEXT-nOOK.

ter without conceiving of space as a necessary condition of liis concep-
tion.

Various attemi)t3 have been made by writers on intellectual philo-
sophy to classify these intuitions. One of the most complete is that
given by Haven. lie first makes the two-fold division of primary
truths and intuitive conceptions. Under the former he coniprehoiids
the following : ''Our personal existence — our personal identity — the
existence of efficient causes — the existence of the material world — the
uniformity of nature; and by others, the reliability of memory, and of
natural fiiculties generally, and personal freedom or power over our
own actions and volitions. And under the latter, space — time — iden-
tity — cause — the idea of the beau ti fid and of the right.

Position and Value of this Facnlty. It must not be supposed that
this faculty, though standing last in the intellectual list, is of less
importance than any of those that have gone before. The fact is, it
lies at the foundation of all the others, and without it all the others
would be of no service in the mental temple. Even the perceptive
and reflective faculties would be utterly unavailing without it — would
be like the airy fabric of a vision. It is placed at the end of the syn-
tlietical arrangement, just because it towers above them all, and soars
aloft into the regions of purest intellection, leaving behind all the sen-
sibilities of time — all the tangibilities of matter. Had we adopted
another course, and given an analytical view of the powers of the
intellect, it would have occupied the foreground — it would have stood
first in its own lofty and commanding pre-eminence, and all the others
would have been regarded as so many scintillations or emanations,
standing towards it in certain indissoluble relations, at a near or
more remote distance. This, as already stated, is the course pursued
by Dr. Lyall, of Dalhousie College, in his able Treatise on the
Intellect, Emotions and Moral Nature of Man. This arrangement,
however, would not have answered our purpose, so well, as education-
ists. The course we have pursued is, in our apprehension, not only
the simplest and most logical, but the best fitted to present the intel-
lect in its educational aspects — to show what ought to be done for
the culture and improvement of the faculties themselves.

But this faculty is admirably calculated to refute the errors and
absurdities of materialism. It is a fi' -t, worthy of being noticed,
that the great majority of those who have manifested any mate-
rialistic tendencies, have, generally speaking, had no clear idea —
no distinct apprehension of psj'chology, or of mind as a specific sepa-
rate existence — as a distinct essence. Their whole or chief attention

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

141

lias been directed to the study of organized existences, both in the
vegetable and animal developments ; and seeing bow much the exer-
cise of mind depended on the physical organization, (and this no tho-
roughly enlightened person will deny), they have landed in the belief
that if there is any such thing as mind at all, it is nought but a mass
of organized matter, refined and purified. Now, the faculty under
consideration is well calculated to counteract any such tendencies,
showing that, however largely sensational — however much the know-
ledge we derive through the medium of the senses, there is one
faculty at least independent both of the cognitive and rcllective.
Calmly and deliberately studying the operations of this faculty, we
are shut up to the conclusion that mind is a distinct essence. The
more profoundly we investigate the workings of this power, the more
completely do we soar into the region of the intellectual. There is
still another thought that strikes us, in connection with the importance
and utility of this faculty, which we must notice. We refer to the
evidence furnished of the existence and character of the infinite mind.
' Shall He that made the ear not hear,' says the sacred penman ; and
here, too, with special emphasis, may we ask, shall not He that made
the mind, and made it with such capabilities, be possessed of an infi-
nite mind with the most glorious attributes — with the highest spiritual
excellence ? Thus we are shut up to the inference that He who made
our spirit is indeed the Father of Spirits.

Education of Intuitive. From the very character of the faculty
itself — its abstruseness and the high speculation of the themes with
which it has to do, little can be said here. A few hints are all that
we shall attempt to offer.

1. Every means should be employed to encourage the young to
enquire into the causes of things. From the fact of our being such
creatures of habit, it not unfrequently happens that those very objects
or things with which we are most familiar, we are least of all acquaint-
ed with, and manifest not even the slightest anxiety to be so. Con-
stituted as we are, this should not be so. And how is such a spirit to
be counteracted and overcome ? In no other way that we know of,
than by prompting the young to enquire into the causes or reasons of
everything they see or engage in. Nothing will so effectually beget
and foster such a spirit as well-conducted oral lessons.

2. Every means should be employed to encourage the young to
follow out to their ultimate conclusions, the train of their own percep-
tions and of their own consciousness. In this respect, the human
family may be divided into two classes ; those who take merely a

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glance at tlioir perceptions and conceptions, and pass on from the one
to the other without the least meditation or rellcction; and those who
attend to their own intuitions — examine their character — determine
thi'h validity, and follow them out to their most minute — their most
remote residts. The former, need we say, is the hahit of the super-
ficial thinkers, who cognize the facts only, that are visihle on the surface.
The latter is the habit of the thoughtful and reflective, and, generally,
is made up of those who arrive at the knowledge of the hidden ridations
— the occult causes by wlrch all that is seen is united together and di-
rected. "Millions of men," says Waylaiid, "before Sir Isaac Newton,
had seen an apple fall to the ground, but the sight awakened no sugges-
tion ; or if it did, the suggestion was neither retained nor developed.
He seized upon it at once — followed it to its results, and found that
he had caught hold of the thread whi(;h could guide him through the
labyrinth of the world."

.3. These intuitions will be generated all the more abundantly, the
more carefully they are attended to. Like every other faculty, the
intuitive is strengthened by use. The more diligently we study the
intuitions that arise in the mind, in the circumstances in which we
may be placed, these will not only recur in greater abundance, but we
shall acquire a power and a control over them which will render them
far more available — conduct to more important discoveries, and invest
with greater reliance and self-dependence.

4. Use every means to train the young to patient investigation and
persevering enquiry, and direct to those studies where this will be
most necessary.

This, after all, has done more for the human family — for the
advancement of science and of geuu.ne philanthropy, than all the
flashings of genius — all the exploits of the hero — all the self-sacrifi-
cing acts of the christian. And, in truth, there is here more valorous
heroism — more magnanimous daring, inasmuch as there is a greater
triumph and conquest over the principles of selfish humanity. And
far more can be done by education for the infusion of such a spirit
and the accomplishment of such an object, than is generally supposed.
In no department, perhaps, can this be more effectively done than in
the culture of the faculty under review. If it is to be cultivated at
all, it must be by following out the knowledge it imparts, by stedfjist,
persevering patience — by plodding, advancing industry. There ought
to be studies prescribed, where, from their nature, such a course is
indispensable, and every stimulus given by the faithful and laborious
trainer. And we know nothing better, at an early stage, than judi-

-iWiJ^k I. ;

mif' I't

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

143

ciously coiuluctcd oral Icssous, and, at a more advanced stage, mathe-
uiatics aad i»hysical science.

III. Emotional Education.

Meaning. l>y this title we are plainly to understand the education
f the feelings or sensibilities of our nature — a department of our
theme which, all must admit, has been much and culj)ably overlooked
and neglected. Whether we consider the sensibilities in themselves,
as the grand springs of human activity — as the motives and the causes
which give im])ulse and direction to all our encirgies, laying the foun-
dation of character and sha[)ing our history and destiny ; or, wlu;ther
we look at them in their inlluencc; on the intellect, — as quickening and
enlivening, — as inspiriting, and sustaining all its faculties, wo cannot
fail to perceive their vast importance, and the obligations laid upon us
to educate them, and to educate them aright, so that they shall really
subserve these high and important purposes.

Classijication of Sensibilities. These sensibilities have been
variously classified. Some have viewed them in their origin, and
classified them as primitive and derivative ; others, in contrast, as
cheerfulness and melancholy — love and hate, and have divided them
accordingly ; others, chronologically, and divided them into immediate,
retrospective and prospective ; others, as mechanical, animal and
rational ; others, as instructive and rational ; others, as natural and
moral ; others, as animal, rational and spiritual ; others, as passions,
emotions and affections ; and others, as emotions, affections and
desires.

There is, in fact, no end to the variety of classification, scarcely two
writers on the subject agreeing. The one we prefer, is the last-named,
that of Haven, as being the most simple, the most comprehensive,
and the most scientific. Under the simple emotions, he comprises all
those feelings which involve delight or satisfaction in the object, or
the reverse. Under the affections, — all those which, in addition to the
above, involve the wish, more or less definite and intense, of good or
ill to the object that awakens the emotion. And under desires, he
comprehends all those feelings which have respect alway to some good
or apparent good, not in present possession, but viewed as attainable.

Let us glance at each of these ' ^ order, and, as we proceed, show
briefly what should be done for their education.

Simple Emotions. Haven, again, subdivides these into Instinctive
and Rational, — the former parta'^.ing more of the animal, and the
latter, of the reflective. Under the Instinctive, he comprehends the

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following, viz. : 1 . That gonenil state of the mind known an cheerful-
ness, and its opposite, niclanirholy. 2. Sorrow at loss of friends.
3. Sympathy with the happiness and sorrow of others. Under the
Kational he comprizes the following, viz.: 1. Emotions of joy or sad-
ness, arising from the cont(>mplation of onr own excellence, or the
the reverse. 2. Enjoyment of tli.; ludicrous. 3. Of the new and
wonderful. 4. Of the beautiful and sublime. /). Satisfaction in view
of right conduct, and remorse in view of wrong. A few general
remarks on each of these two classes of emotions must suffice.

The first class, those simple emotions common to us with the lower
animals, point us to that state of nn'nd termed cheerfulness, with its
opi)ositc, melancholy, from the character of the objects that produced
it, whether good or evil. The state to which we now point is not one
of rapturous emotion, either of joyousness or sadness ; but a kind of
equanimity of temperament, that would be appropriately termed glad-
ness or cheerfulness. Man was made to be happy and cheerful, and,
notwithstanding the catastrophe that has befallen his nature, this is
the prevalent strain of his life. True, there are clouds every now and
again passing over this general sunshine. Some sudden and unexpect-
ed calamity befiils him, or, with a stroke, he is bereft of some one
near and dear to him, and he is left in bitterest anguish to mourn.
But these occurrences are only occasional — they are but as clouds
that pass over his generally shining sun. "We do not say that this
prevailing state of cheerfulness is alike in all ; for there are a few in
every community whose habitual condition is that of gloom and sor-
row, arising in some from physical and in others from mental causes.
Neither do we say that this general state is uniform in all. There
ai'O certain periods when joyousness rises to a higher and more com-
manding elevation, and others when it is much lower. The season of
youth, for example, is characterized by the former, and that of maturer
years by the latter. In childhood and in youth, there is, generally, in
all, a full flow, a swelling tide of spirits ; all is buoyancy, and elasti-
city, and cheerful springiness. This is their general condition, evi-
dently a wise and bountiful arrangement of things for the health of
the body, the exhilaration of the mind, and the growth of both. Such
a state induces constant activity and energy, and thus preserves all in
a vigorous and healthful condition. And all this, again, is vastly aug-
mented by a very powerful auxiliary, viz., sympathy with the happi-
ness of others. Of this principle we shall speak at length afterwards,
as it forms one of the characteristics in the course. Suffice it here
simply to say, that there is nought in which it operates more power-

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SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

145

fully than in tho freshness and sj)ring-time of our days, just as sym-
putliy with the sorrow of others operates, most extensively, in our riper
and more advanced years.

The other class of emotions, — those in which mind is more deeply
involved, and which, in consecpience, have been called rational, — is
much more diversified, and this by reason of tho greater variety of
objects that awaken them ; and yet, withal, this class may be legitimately
ranked under tho same category — under the agreeable or the reverst)
— the pleasurable or tlic painful — the joyful or the sorrowful. As
already stated, there is, first, the joy or sadness arising from the con-
templatic'n of our own excellence, or the reverse. This is an emotion
that is constantly recurring, ranging, as it does, over a wide area,
both in our external or internal condition, whether our excellences are
intolloctual or moral in their origin, or whether they spring from our-
selves by comparing our past and present history, or from ourselves
as compared with others of our fellow -creatures. There is a constant
disposition in ns to do all this, and feelings of the most vivid and
powerful character follow. These are commendable in themselves.
They only become blamc-\/orthy when indulged to excess, or when
directed to improper or unworthy objects, or when we aro deceiving
ourselves in regard to any excellence, or, if we really possess it, not
carrying ourselves aright. The noblest nature is that which docs not
think more highly of itself than it ought, nor places itself above others
in comparison. Another of the emotions of this class, is the sense
of the ludicrous. Tliis consists in the grouping or bringing together,
in a sudden and unexpected manner, ideas or things that are in their
nature incongruous. This incongruity presents itself in a great variety
of forms. It may refer to objects or things ; it may be accidental or
intentional. If the former, it is a blunder ; if the latt r, it is wit.
This wit is a generic term, and is divided into a great many species,
such as tho pun — the burlesque — the mock heroic — all double-
entendrcs — satire — sarcasm, &c. This emotion, like the preceding, is
only of injurious tendencies when carried to excess. When wit is
made the predominating quality of the mind, it never fails to produce
a blighting influence ou the higher and nobler faculties and aspira-
tions : it leads captive the whole mind into the most humiliating and
degrading servitude. If, on the other hand, it is kept in its proper
place, and is duly moderated, it is of immense service in spreading a
vigour and freshness over the whole mental contour. Like music to
the soldier on the march, so is the perception of the ludicrous to the
weary, and jaded, and exhausted. Another emotion under thia head
10

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146

tea-Ciier's text-book.

fl i .i':

is the enjoyment of the new and wonderful. It is not the Athenians
alone that have evinced an eagerness in seeing or hearing some now
thing. Men, in all ages and in all countries, feel, in course of time, the
tiresomeness of unbroken, of monotonous sameness in any one object
or pursuit. However charming to the musician's ear may be the
finest song to which he ever listened, its constant and unwcared repe-
tition not only palls upon his sense, but becomes positively disgusting;
and hence the delight experienced, when, after a protracted continu-
ance in ony one employment, an interruption is effected and a change
takes place. This is especially the case with the young. Variety
and novelty are to them the main charm of life ; and hence the grati-
fication enjoyed on the occasion of some new arrival, or the occurrence
of some unexpected event, or the display of some lovely scene. This
excites their surprise, and, if it is of such a nature as to call forth
earnest enquiry, their wonder, or to rouse to highest mental excitement,
their astonishment. This emotion is fitted to produce the most bene-
ficial results in the whole of our mental economy. It arouses our
attention to present duty, and calls forth our energy on every pressing
emergency. It not only rids us of the ennui so apt to steal over us,
but it presses us onward to the achievement of some nobler and v/or-
thier undertaking.

Under this head, should also fall to be considered the emotions of
the beautiful and sublime, and of the right and wrong. But as these,
from their importance, are treated separately in a subsequent portion
of our work, there is no need of saying a word here regarding them.

Education of these Emotions. These emotions impart unspeakable
satisfaction and delight to the young, and conse(piently demand, at
the hand of both parents and teachers, the deepest study — the most
laborious and pains-taking exertions, and the most unwearied perseve-
rance in their proper, their legitimate culture. If the grand charac-
teristic of the instinctive emotions is joyousness, or a prevailing exhil-
arating cheerfulness, then it is clear that parents and teachers should
provide the means requisite for the play of this spirit — for its chastened
manifestation, — 1st. By providing the games and amusements befitting
the age of the scholars ; 2. By so directing and carrying on their
studies, as that no improper pressure shall be imposed on the develop-
ment of this spirit ; 3. By extirpating selfishness, through sympathy,
with their associates. The education of the other class — the rational
emotions — is carried on and promoted generally by the encouraging
of what is commendable, and by the checking of what is culpable.
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SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

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teacher, than the emotion of joy or sadness, arising from the contem-
plation of our own excellence — or the reverse, or, as it is usually
denominated, the emulative principle. The stimulants proper for the
development and growth of this emotion, will fall more appropriately
under the heading of government of schools, where we discuss the
propriety of taking places, of prizes and rewards, &c., and when we shall
be better able to present the subject in its moral aspects or bearings.
In the meantime, it is enough to say, that whatever are the encou-
ragements employed, every possible advantage should be taken of this
emotion, that whilst everything should be done to reprobate its mani-
festations under the form of pride, conceit, arrogance, haughtiness,
and the like, everything should be done to show, that the very nobility
of our nature consists in that which looks neither at itself, to mark its
own acquirements, nor yet at others below itself, to mark its own
sui)eriority ; but whose earnest gaze is fixed only on that which is
above and superior to itself — the beau ideal ever floating before it of
an excellence not yet attained, in comparison with which all present
attainments seem of little moment. Let this ideal be firmly settled in
the teacher's mind, and there is little fear of any obstruction being
offered to the full and healthful operation of this emotion. Its whole
utility to the teacher consists in furnishing a groundwork for the devis-
ing of means for securing diligent application to study.

Much use may also be occasionally made of witticisms in their
diversified forms. Few, if any children ar^ entu'ely uestitute of a
sense of the ludicrous, and for the teacher judiciously and befittingly
to call it forth, it cannot fail to operate beneficially and extensively
as a stimulant, enlivening and refreshing the spirits, after a season of
hard application to study. Only let it bo kept in its true place, not in
the forefront, but in the background of the varied and busy scene, and it
will be found in the school-room, as everywhere else, one of the most
valuable mental endowments. Hear Sydney Smith : " But wlien wit
is combined with sense and information ; where it is softened by benev-
olence and restrained by strong principle ; when it is in the hands of
a man who can use it and despise it — who can be witty, and something
much better than witty — " ' ^ loves honor, justice, decency, good
nature, morality and religion, ten thousand times better than wit, wit
is then a beautiful and delightful part of our nature."

This instrument should be called in more as a relaxation or relief
upon the tedium, physical and mental, of protracted study. In such
circumstances, when judiciously administered, it may be productive of
the most salutary results. • •; .

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Of a piece, generally speaking, with tins, is the enjoyment arising
from the new and wonderful. Here, however, something more sys-
tematic and formal may and ought to bo done in the educational proc-
ess. This is accomplished by a considerable variety of subjects being
presented to the mind at once, thereby involving frequent changes.
Not that there are to be no leading subjects of study. According
to the epoch of mental development, there ought to be one or more
standard branches, to which the greater proportion of the time and
application should be directed. But along with these, one or more
lateral branches may be carried on with great efficiency and benefit
even to the standard branches themselves. It were well, too, to
modify, occasionally, the method of conducting these studies, reviewing
them in different aspects, and applying them for the accomplishment of
different objects.

Benevolent and Malevolent Affections. This, according to the autho-
rity we have followed, constitutes the second class of our sensibilities,
and is naturally subdivided into benevolent and malevolent ; the former
being founded on love, and the latter on hate. This class follows and
grows out of the preceding. Tlic simple emotions give rise to the
affections. But the aff ctions also expand and become more compli-
cated. Unlike the passivity of the emotions, they are active und
transitive, passing from the subject to the object which awakens,
and that in accordance with our estimate of that object, whether of
likinji or dislikinjj— of love or hatred. The affections are also more
universal than the emotions. Tliere is not a human breast in a nor-
mal state in which they do not dwell, and they are confined to no age,
or clime, or country ; they are even common to us with the brute
creation. They are, no doubt, strengthened and expanded, by the
circumstances in which we are placed, and by early habit ; but they
are manifestly instinctive and original principles, implanted in our
nature by the Great Author of our being, and this in most beautiful
adaptation to the relations in which we are placed, and to the duties
arising therefrom. Sometimes they grow into excess, and, like a
vessel driven before the winds, they control and domineer, placing us
at the mercy of the lower or animal propensities of our nature. Then,
they are properly designated passions.

These affections, both benevolent and malevolent, assume various
forms, which are classified according to their nearness or remoteness.
The former are generally j iked under the love of kindred — of friends
■—of benefactors— of home and country.

Benevoleni. The first of these — the love of kindred — ia the nearest

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SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

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•and strongest, and is generally regardi.'d as threefold — parental, filial
and fraternal. The love of parent to child, and especially, that of the
mother, is, without exception, the strongest feeling in our nature, —
much stronger than that of the child towards the parent. And what
a wise provision in all this ; — how strikingly adapted to the circum-
stances in which we arc placed ! These lie at the very foundation of
the social virtues. It is the genial influences of the domestic circle
that give the be^t preparation for the activities and conflicts of after
life. Not that these are repugnant to true manliness or heroism.
The lion and the lamb are often seen dwelling together. The bravest
and the most daring are generally the most amiable and benevolent.
The second form which this class of affection assumes, is that of
friendship. This, too, is evidently one of the original instincts of our
nature, founded on and strengthened by the associative and sympa-
thetic principle. It begins with acquaintanceship or companionship,
and, by the magnetic bond of the above principle, grows with our
growth and strengthens with our strength, even until it ripens into
raaturest friendship; and when thus fairly formed, it binds man to
man with a cord not easily broken, cementing them together in a way
that bids defiance to all adventitious circumstances — to all external
changes. Even when the object of our friendship has become a moral
wreck, and we feel that we cannot and dare not love him as he is, we
would still fain cling to him, and love him as he once was. To be,
however, of this character — the sweetest balm of life, our friendship
must be select — not extended, but confined to a few.

The third form of this class is the love of benefiictors. This, like
the other affections, consists of a feeling of pleasure, together with a
benevolent regard for the object on which the affection rests. The
one follows the other, and the two combined constitute the comjilex
emotion which we call gratitude. If this be a proper definition, then
the feeling is more directed to the giver than the gift. This is brought
out very palpably when we discover afterwards that the gift was for the
serving of selfish ends — for the promotion of his own personal aggran-
dizement. Nevei'thelcss, this is one of the instincts of our being.
Wliatever be the extent of this affection, or the diversity of ways in
which it manifests itself in different individuals, w^e uniformly expect
it, and at once denounce those who evince no such affection. Hence
flagrant cases of ingratitude are branded with every stigma of abhor-
rence.

The last of these forms is the love of country and home. This is
the atriotic fcjclin^ which poets and writers of a glowing imagination

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SO frequently delineate. This, like the preceding, is an original feel-
ing in our nature, and is in complete adaptation to the geographical
distribution of the inhabitants of our globe — to the rivalries that
spring up between nation and nation — to the diversity of language,
and tlie like. But whilst both the love of country and home is thus
an instinct of our being, it is greatly strengthened by the law of asso-
ciation. This rendere the affection oftentimes the strongest where it
is least expected. The poorest hut, and the m;ost barren, rugged
rocks have their enduring associations far stronger, than the most gor-
geous palace, or the most civilized, highly cultivated country.

Malevolent. As the benevolent affections are all so many forms of
love going forth toward a great diversity of objects, so the malevolent
affections are so many forms of the opposite principle, aversion vary-
ing likewise with the objects. The term nvalevolent is unfortunate,
and liable to serious objections, though it should be carefully noticed
that it is used entii'ely by way of contrast, and not as implying
anything criminal in the character of the emotions themselves. The
moral character of the affections embraced must be decided on their
own merits, and not on the use of the word.

"Whatever may he the difficulties involved, it is very obvious that
these affections are just as much a part of our nature as the benevo-
lent ; and being so, they must be intended for some high and imjiortanl
purpose. When the occasion that culls it forth is some injuiy or evil
inflicted on ourselves, the feeling takes the name of resentment; when
others are the objects of that injustice, the feeling awakened is more
properly termed indignation. We resent our own wrongs — we are
indignant at the wrongs of others. This principle is, in either case,
the same, and is as truly a part of our natui'e as gratitude for favours
received, or sympathy with the sorrows of the afflicted.

This principle is evidently designed to arm us against those sudden
dangers and assaults, which no foresight can anticipate, nor providence
prevent, and which, when they occur, I'cquire instant action and
prompt redress. It seems to be not less necessary for the punishment
of crime and the protection of society.

This, however, is a principle liable to abuse, and requires to be kept
in careful check. And nature has provided, in the case of excessive
resentment, checks the most needful and salutary. These are such as, —
1. The indignation with which any such manifestation is sure to be
regarded by others ; 2. The feeling of self-degradation and humilia-
tion, which such a man feels ; and 3. There is the natural painfulnes.s

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

151

of the malevolent afTection itself. These checks cause resentment to
assume a more deliberate form.

There are various modifications of this general principle, such as
envy, jealousy and revenge. These are the species of the generic
term resentment, and vary as the different circumstances and objectg
vary which call them forth.

Have these affections any moral character? Instinctive resent-
ment has no moral character. Resentment, however, when its opera-
tion is deliberate and voluntary, rather than purely instinctive, imply-
ing the exercise of reflection and reason, must possess, in common
with all other mental acts of that nature, some moral character.
Within due limits and on just occasions, it is a virtue ; when it passes
those limits — when it becomes excessive, or is uncalled for in the
circumstances of the case, it becomes a vice. So far as regards those
forms of the malevolent emotion — envy, jealousy and revenge — there
can be no doubt.

Education of all the Affections. "We have dwelt the longer on
the nature and importance of these affections, because of their
direct bearing on the whole educational process, because, generally
speaking, they are so largely susceptible of improvement. These
affections are all, as we have seen, instinctive principles, implanted
in our nature, and yet they are all capable of great enlargement
by a kindly nurture and admonition, by a judicious development
and training. And what is more to the point, if this expansion is not
effected in our more juvenile years, the probability is that it never
will ; and that not merely because we are placed in circumstances
where these ndations are unfelt, but because the mind, in its ennobling
sensations and powers, is never so flexible, nor so suscei)tible of
advancement, nor so open to influence. But to the point.

1. Parents and teachers, and others, in charge of the young,
should use their utmost endeavors in seeing that the treatment
of the rising generation is of such a character, as will impose no
obstruction or place any restraint on the natural out-flowing of these
affections. From the most infantine period, they require regulating
and directing, but care must be taken to see that nought is done that
will suppress their natural buoyancy of temper, their inherent elas-
ticity of soul. Discipline, in the shape of denials and punishments,
must be dispensed, and the sooner it is begun the easier will it be both
for parent and child ; but this must be done in a way that will show
that it la not in anger, or in wrath, or in vindictiveness, or cruelty, but
iu very fiiithfulness and kindness for their good. " Aiul ye fathers,,

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provoke not your children to wrath but brhig them up in the nurture
and admonition of the Lord."

2. Parents and teachers must act not only on th'i negative but the
positive, that is, they must endeavour to do their part aright, to regu-
late their own affections towards the young in such a way as will call
forth the legitimate exercise of theirs. Much of the genuine outflow-
ing of fdial affection on the part of the young will depend on the way
in which parents discharge their parental duties, or regulate their
parental love. And so will it be with teachers and taught. Above
all, teachers must strive to attemper their authority with kindness ; they
must oftentimes unbend, come down from their seat of pre-eminence
and evince their benevolence to be of such a character, as will satisfy
their pupils that they are happy in their happiness.

3. Directions should also be given for the formation of friendships.
The young should be instructed that, whilst they ought to love all, they
Bhould make special acquaintances of those they like best, provided
they are worthy and well-behaved. Parents, particularly, should
encourage the formation of such a tie by allowing their children to
spend an occasional evening in each others abodes, and by indulging
them in such like enjoyments, as well as manifesting an interest in
their sports and amusements.

The young, too, should be exhorted to the exercise of gratitude
towards their benefactors, and especially towards those children who
deny themselves personal gratifications, in order to make them sharers
in their enjoyments, &c. They should also provide, judiciously, the
means by which their love may assume a tangible shape, and thus
place their associates, in turn, under obligations to them.

4. ]Much may be done to the yoinig for the purpose of chc ishing iu
their breasts a spirit of genuine patriotism. If the countiy in which
they live have any history, they should be made acquainted, from their
juvenile years, with the great men that have appeared at different epochs
and in the different departments, as Avell as with their exploits, or disco-
veries, or inventions. Or, if the country is destitute of I'enown in the
annals of the past, to point to its resources, it may be in the eld, or in
the mine, or in the warehouse. Or, if scanty in both these, to direct the
attention to the glory of the natural scenery, and there is nothing that
takes a firmer hold of the youthful miiul or inspires with stronger
patriotic emotions. Their reading and geographical books should all
tend in the same direction. Much- too, may and ought to be done in
training the young aright in the exercise of their resentful feelings.
In nothing, perhaps, do the young evince at an early period a stronger

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

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disposition than to resist a wrong, either supposed or imaginary ; no in-
stinct, in short, seems to take a deeper hohl of the constitution than tliat
of resentment ; and the sooner, accordingly, the attention of parents and
teachers is called to its management and guidance, the hetter. They
should be taught, at the earliest possible period, never to resent, when
an injustice is done either to themselves or others. They should be
shown the most satisfactory, the most triumphant way of obtaining
justice or due compensation in the 'ase. This should be strengthened
by notable illustrations, either authentic or fictitious. The amount of
good that may be accomplished by patient, persevering industry in the
regulation of this feeling, is perfectly inconceivable, x . ore the influ-
ence of example is all but omnipotent.

Desires. The last class of our sensibilities is the Desires, or that
class of feelings which prompt us to seek after the possession of objects
or things which we know, either from experience or otherwise, to be
worthy of being prized. This advances us a step farther. In the
first class, there is simple enjoyment or dislike, arising from something
in our possession. In the second, there is also a something that is
agreeable or disagreeable, but there is more, even a going forth to the
object that has awakened the emotion. In the third, there is more
than in either of the preceding ; there is a previous enjoyment of an
agreeable object, and the present or contemplated absence of that
object. There is immediately consequent an emotion or affection, pro-
portioned to our enjoyment of that object, and from this arises the
desire ; and this desire is permanent by reason of the very continuance
of the absence of the object. And in this respect it differs from all
the other simple and complex emotions. But it differs in a much
more important sense ; it is the main-spring of all physical and mental
activity. " The intellect itself leads not to action ; nor do the emo-
tions ; tliey agitate the mind, but it is only as they awaken desire,
and that desire fixes on a definite object, possible, but not in posses-
sion, that mind and body are both aroused to go forth for the attain-
ment of the absent object of desire."

Some of our desires originate in the body, and others in the mind,
and hence the twofold division of animal and mental. The former,
sometimes called appetites, are subdivided into natural and artificial :
and the latter into the desire of happiness — of knowledge — of ])ower
— of society, and of esteem.

T7ie Am7nal Desires. T,hese desires, as has just been said, spring
fron or arc connected with the body, and are such as our desire for
food, for action, for repose, and such like. There is muscular and

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nervous exertion in the operation of these appetites, and then the
desire succeeds. Of course, it is only in the hitter acceptation that it
is regarded as appertaining to psycliology. Originating thus in our
animal constitution, they perform a most important function in the
economy of life, some having a regard to self-preservation, and others
to the propagation of the species, — ends, evidently, which could not
otherwise be accomplished. When properly exercised and kept within
due bounds, they are not of the selfish character they are sometimes
supposed. They effect important purposes — impart a considerable
amount of enjoyment, and are purely original and implanted princi-
ples. There is one peculiarity belonging to them which is deserving
of notice, that whilst the repetition strengthens the desire, it also
diminishes the enjoyment arising therefrom. This is, evidently,
intended as a punishment to those who indulge in them to excess, and
a severe punishment it is. And this punishment is still more aggra-
vated with those who form for themselves artificial desires by indul-
gence in the use of narcotics or intoxicating drinks.

Elacntioyi of these desires. The education of these animal desires
is by no means to be viewed as a matter of indifference or a thing of
nought. As they are indispensable for the accomplishment of high
and important ends — ends that can only bo measured by taking into
account the value of mind; — so every means ought to be employed
to see that they are kept in such a state as really to serve those ends.
The education of all these desires consists in their being preserved in
a condition of moderation, that they are never allowed to usurp domi-
nation over the higher principles of our nature, and that the young are
not only warned against the use of tobacco, and intoxicating drugs and
drinks, but that they are carefully trained to avoid them.

Mental Desires. And the first of these that has been mentioned, is
the desire of happiness, or self-love. By this is meant the desire that
all have for their own good — the promotion of their own happiness.
And this is out-and-out a sound and wholesome desire. And that all
possess this instinctive principle, we have only to look around us and
to contemplate the pursuits and the enjoyments of the human family
at large. "Whatever the diversity of human employments and engage-
ments, this is the ultimatum to which they all evidently tend. And
would that all knew where alone it is to be found ! Some seem
•scared at the very mention of self-love, looking at it as synonymous
with selfishness. Every one knows the import of the word selfish-
ness. It just means that principle in man by which he seeks to
advance his own happiness at the expense or to the detriment of his

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

155

fellows, — that grasping spirit of solf-aggrandizeraent which, for very
gratification, unhesitatingly invades the mott liallowed precincts of
others, and cares little or nought about their misery, if their selfish
plans are carried. This is altogether different from self-love, or the
desire of our own hap{)iness. This may, and ought to be sought for
without the least intention thereby of damaging others. The Bible
nowhere condemns such a principle. We are eo.nmaiided to love our
neighbour as ourselves, evidently implying, that we are to love our-
selves first, but not to rest there. After we have found true hai)pi-
ness ourselves, we are to seek the good of our fellows. Instead of
being criminal, it is highly commendable, and may be regarded both
as an original and rational principle. Of a piece with this, if not a
form or modification of it, is the desire of continued existence — a
desire which generally grows stronger as life weare away. How
strikingly does this display the benevolence of the Creator !

Education of the desire of Self-love. What a noble field of usefulness
is presented to us in educating this principle! Here we are presented
with the spectacle that all are weary and heavy-laden. All striving
to gratify this desire by objects and pursuits which never will, which
never can meet its wants ; and this because there is an utter incon-
gruity between those creature objects and pursuits, and the longings
and yearnings of the powers of the human mind. Here parents, and
teachers, and others should ply every energy in showing the young
the incongruity to which ve have just referred, and of directing their
juvenile mind to the only true source where they can get the adequate
supply for this want.

Here, too, they may inculcate, with much propriety, the idea that this
reflects upon the nobility of the human mind. The mind cannot rest
short of its Creator, if it is to find true blessedness ; and, therefore, the
finite must be brought in contact with the infinite, the temporal with
the eternal.

Here the young should be directed to the Bible, whose discoveries
and truths can alone satisfy the longings of this instinct, and meet all
its aspirations. Here it finds a region congenial to its nature, and
adapted to all its tendencies. Here, and here alone, the mind gets a
resting-place, where it can revel and luxuriate amid the felicities and
joys of which its heaven-born nature is susceptible.

Desire of Knowledge. The desire to know all the things and
objects around us, manifests itself long before the age of reason and
reflection commences. It is akin to, though somewhat different from,
that principle of curiosity which all must have noticed in the young.

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Tliis, however, has more a reference to what is new, and unexpected,
and strange to what is happening around, than to the knowledge of the
things itself. It is a powerful auxiliary to the desire of learning, hut
can scarcely be considered as Identical with it. They evidently co-
operate and are productive of the most beneficial results, not only in
storing the mind with knowled;;o at the earliest dawn of the human
intellect, but stimulating and yielding gratification in the same pursuit
during the whole of our subsf'quent career. It no doubt principally
manifests itself in our mort. i.ir.Jiiine and juvenile years ; and here we
see another beautiful adaptation in the beneficent actings ot the great
author of our being. Everything around is new and strange to the
little prattling child, everything wears to him the air of bloom and
freshness ; and this desire to know the names and uses of all around
him, soon stores his mind with useful information and incites him
onward to the acquisition of more. Thus it feeds itself; so that,
though stronger and perhaps more advantageous in our more juvenile
years, it docs not stop here but stretches its influence forward to our
more mature years. Both it and the principle of curiosity last on
and stimulate one another. It is not merely the little boy that listens
with intense delight to the story or narrative, when the denouement of
the plot is suspended, and the principle of curiosity is raised to the
highest pitch of expectation, but the riper in years manifest the same
desire, though in them it is more chastened and subdued. Again, we
are called upon to admire and praise this bountiful provision of the
Author of our Being so to constitute the human mind, that not only
knowledge itself, but the very process of its acquisition should be a
pleasure. And when we reflect upon the huge strides made in the
accumulation of intelligence, and the glorious discoveries that some-
times crown the legitimate application of this principle — discoveries
that not only place perennial laurels upon the head of the discoverer,
but confer untold benefits on the human family at large, who can
adequately estimate the transcendent value of this gift, or sufliciently
praise the bestower in rendering this an original and instinctive as
well as a rational principle in our nature ? And whit woes too heavy
or burdensome, what punishment too severe ought not to be inflicted
upon any who can dare impose, by any voluntary act of theirs, an
embargo or an arrestment upon the gradual development of this
ennobling principle of humanity? And what honours or rewards
should they have heaped upon them, who dedicate their time, and
energy, and anxious study, towards its nourishment, its symmetrical
growth, its full-orbed display ?

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157

Education of this desire. And now, it will be asked, how should
the culture of this desire be proceeded with ? And in reply to this
all-important question, Avo would notice, in the first place, that both
the kiiowled^ii imparted and the way in which it is done, should be in
wisest and most judicious adaptiiiion to the eiioch of development.
This is a great principle for which we have pleaded throughout, and
its ap[)llcation hero cannot be too highly prized and too earnestly
sought after. At the earliest stage, this falls under the management
of parents, and especially of mothers. The latter may, and ought to
do much in the expanding of the tender blade of this rich bud — should
particularly labour in the description of the various parts of the things
and objects around — giving the accurate nomenclaturu of the same,
— teaching them how to distinguish one thing from another, and
submitting these things as objects to their respective senses, to test and
make discoveries for themselves. How diligent should mothers be in
storing the minds of their offspring with a knowledge of common things
around, and not only with a simple knowledge, but with the rationale or
philosophy of the same. This plan should be followed out by the regu-
lar teacher more formally and systematically, ministering to the feeding
of this desire, in wise and judicious adaptation to its digestive processes.
This principle shows, perhaps, more than anything else, how the care-
lessness and the want of progress of the young should not often be more
legitimately laid at the door of the teacher, than at their own. In
how many instances has this desire been smothered or twisted by the
teacher, compelling all to pursue the same course, without even
the attempt of submitting to the drudgery of enquiring into the
position or peculiarities of each. The fine moral tendency of this
desire we do not even touch.

Desire of Power. This is perhaps the most dominant, as it is the
most universally prevalent, of all the desire^ *ve have yet considered.
In all sta'es of society, savage and civilized, in all countries enlighten-
ed 0" unenlightened, in all ages, from the infant of six months to the
octogenarian, its influence is exhibited with more or less sway, to a
greater or less extent. But 'he grand peculiarity of this principle is
the gratification which its exercise affords. Look at the little child of
four or five years of age, when, for the first time, he is perched on the
back of the lofty and powerful horse, and feels that gigantic animal at
his beck, by the least tug of the reins, moving in any direction he
wills, why he seems all but out of himself, and sits like a monarch on
his throne. Look at the politician. He is possessed of high, noble
rank, has extensive domains — ^is in receipt of large revenues — has

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hundreds upon hundreds in liis employment ; but what of all this
without his political power ; and, accordingly, you find him reiidy to
sacrifice a large; portion of his means, and other (iiijoymcnts, that he
may maintain that influence intact and inviolate, liut the; same
pleasure seems to flow from its exercise in every other department.
In tlu; quiet walks of life, the mechanic, the agriculturist, the mer-
chant, the man of science and the orator, all have highest gratification
in its exercise, and all seem willing to submit to every species of toil
anJ sacrifice to gain it. It is, in fact, one of the «>rongest-ruling
priucijdes of our nature, one of the most powerful-impelling motives
of human action, and generally proportioned to the novelty of the
ac(piisition and to the; apparent greatness of the effect produced. And
tliis is not all, this desire is largely auxiliary to others, and, especially,
to our desire of knowledge and our love of liberty. Generally speak-
ing, the more we know, the more and the better we can do. Every
increase in knowledge becomfis, in some sense, an increase of power.
The love of liberty, or being able to do whatever we like, proceeds
also from this des're. Whatever deprives us of liberty trenches upon
our power.

There are other desires, sometimes regarded as distinct principles
of action, but which are so closely allied to the one under consider-
ation, that they may, we think, with all propriety be viewed as modi-
fications. We refer to the desire of superiority and of possession, on
both of which we would now make a remark or two.

All unhesitatingly admit the prevalence of the desire to excel
amongst men. It is manifest in every age, and in all ranks and con-
ditions of society. It enters the camp — the court — the halls of legis-
lation and justice. It goes into the rivalries of schools — of col-
leges, and of the learned professions. It feexls and ferments those
fearful contests of superiority, which engage nations in hostile encoun-
ter on the field of strife and carnage. This is the desire of superiority;
and v.hat is this but the desire of power in one of its most common
forms. This principle, which is neither more nor less than the prin-
cijile of emulation, is not to be confounded, as oftentimes it is, with
envy. Envy is pained at the success of a rival. A just and honour-
able emulation strives only to equal and surpass him. " Emulation,"
says Butler, " is merely the desire of superiority over others with
whom we compare ourselves. To desire the attainment of this supe-
riority by the particular means of others being brought down below
our own level, is the distinct notion of envy."

This is not to be ranked among the malevolent affections. It is

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not an affection, but a desire, and is not necessarily an evil desire, as
if it involved the sentiment of ill will towards our rival, tliou<fli often
found in connexion with it — though often permitted to mingle with it,
requiring, the. "ore, the careful and constant restraints of reason and
religious principle.

The other modifications of this desire is possession — the possession
of wealth. This assumes two forms ; the one is the simple desire of
acquiring, that there may be the more to spend ; the other, of accunm-
latiug — adding heap to heap, both by keeping fast what is already
procured, as well as by the amassing of more. The former is called
covetousness ; the latter, avarice.

Education of this Desire. In proportion to the potency and univer-
sality of this desire, so every pains and effort should be put f«)rth in
its education. And how are we to proceed here ? How is this {)rin-
ciple to be directed aright ? At the earliest possible period we ought
to endeavor to inoculate the minds of the young with the idea, that
knowledge is power, and, consequently, that mental strength is far
more desirable than mere physical or brute force. This may be illus-
trated in a great variety of forms. Take labour, as conducted and
finished by purely mechanical hands, and the same labour as finished
by the same hands, guided and directed by mental sagacity and wis-
dom. Then show the triumphs of science in various departments of
chemistry — in the steam engine, and all the various appliances of
stean". — in the telegraph, the photograph, &c.

2. The young should be incited to diligence and the patie'nt prose-
cution of study, to the accumulation of their stock of knowledge, not
merely on the ground that knowledge is power, but that knowledge is
knowledge, and that the greater our acquisition, the nobler, the more
commanding is the vantage ground we occupy. This may be illus-
trated by appeals to science, that the thorough understanding of classi-
fication of one branch of objects, places us on a higher platform for
the understanding and arrangement of any other branch. Take also
for the same purpose the sublime science of Geometry, rising in
majesty and glory step by step, every succeeding step becoming firmer
and more stable than the preceding, and all founded upon a few self-
evident axioms and postulates.

3. This principle should be taken advantage of, educationally, to
show that the more we do know, the higher is the region into which
we soar, and the greater the liberty to try unwonted flights. This
idea may be enforced by showing that just as ignorance is slavery so
is knowledge highest liberty.

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4. Stimulate the emulative principle — tlie desire to excel. Take the
benefit of this in all educational arrangements. It may be well here
to inculcate the lesson that moral worth is far higher than mere intel-
lectual, that the good is preferable to the great, that character is and
ought to be taken into account, as well as high endowments or attain-
ments. The various modes by which this may be secured, that justice
may be done to all the scholars, as well as the whole subject of the
taking of places, of prizes or rewards, &c., will be considered under
the chapter on school government.

5. Educate this principle in the young by convincing them that the
accumulation of wealth is but a means to an end, and show the general
misery of 'hose who reverse this order of things and make it an end.
But there must be something more than verbal instruction here, there
must be the exemplification of a liberal spirit ; and more still, there
must be the training process. The young cannot be too early imbued
with the sentiment, that whatever boon or blessing we enjoy, belongs
to the Sovereign Proprietor of the Universe, that all arc I 't almoners
or dispensers, and that the Giver of every good and perfect gift will,
at last, demand a strict account of our stewardship. And along with
this, there must be the actual giving, the training process. Every
child should be trained to give a certain proportion of what he gets,
for benevolent and re ".'Ions objects, so that as he grows in years the
avaricious spirit m.ay oo quenched, and the charitable cherished, fos-
tered and strengthened.

Desire of Society'. The universality of this desire proves that it
has a seat in our very nature — that it is not acquired but an implanted
principle.

This desire, so palpably exhibited, is common to man with the
brute creation. To see a creature alone, even amongst the lower
animals, is accounted an anomalous pheuom. ion. Some commauities
of animals — such as the bee, the ant, and beaver — are but typical
representations of the State. This disposition in man to dwell in
communities does not arise from the benefits it yields. It exhibits
itself prior to all education and experience, both in man and beast,
and therefore must be considered as founded in our very constitution,
and that the natural condition of man is not that of seclusion and
isolation Iron* his fellows, but of society and companionship. This
nay bo ratified by a great variety of cases : that, for example, of the
French nobleman, with the spider of '^'^vio Pellico, and of Baron
French, and, still more strongly, by the Attempts that have bfou made

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to effect the reformation of criminals by solitary confinement, con-
ducting, almost invariably and inevitably, either to natural or violent
death.

Education of this Desire. This desire presents a strong argument
in favour of public schools. If the lower animals are stimulated by
working, oi even walking together, man is still more so, and, conse-
quently, must be benefited, in every possible way, by thus com-
mingling with . lellows.

Another application of this principle in education is the whole mat-
ter of classification. Here we see the real vantage ground, the tower-
ing pre-eminence of the graded system. What is a graded school
but the living embodiment, the practical illustration of this principle.
Without classification, there would be neither management nor pro-
gress in a public school ; and this, simoly because such a state of
things would be in direct contravention 1,0 our nature, especially, to
this desire.

This principle, too, lies at the foundation of the sympathy of
lumibers, one of the most powerful intellectual and moral stimulants
in the public school. Not only will the greatest benefits spring from a
thorough system of classification — from graduation — when the number
uf scholars admit, but from the whole school, occasionally associating
together, and exercised on the outline system.

Desire of esteem of others. The good opinion, the approbation of
our fellow creatures in regard to our conduct, cannot be viewed in any
other light than that of an original or instinctive principle. If the
youngest children shrink with evident pain from the censure they may
receive, and are delighted with the approbation of others, — if the
riper in years are prepared to sacrifice almost any amount, even to
lay down life itself, to maintain an honourable place in the esteem of
their fellow men — to j^reserve a name and reputation unsullied ; then,
surely, '' Is must be something more than an acquired attainment — it
must be part of oui aature. All seem to desire the good opinion and
the kind offices of their fellow-creatures.

In none of its aspects is this desire more remarkable than in refer-
ence to the future. We have all a strong inclination to leave a good
name behind us. This can be of no personal gain to us. In no other
way can this desire, not unworthy of a noble mind, be accounted for,
but by the fact, that it is an original princi^^le planted in our being.

And yet after all, th'^. desire of the approbation of our fellows is not
to be relied upon, as a safe rule of conduct. He who would preserve
consistency of character and purpose, must often act quite independent
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of the good opiuion of the people, yea, in diametric opposition to their
wishes. Neither should any one profess to disregard public opinion.
The true course is to pux'sue the golden mean.

Education of tins Desire. This ib one of those desires wliich
should be employc;<I principally as a motive in plying to diligence and
good behaviour. In reference to the former, what motive more in-
fluential than the approbation of parents — of all in educational
authority, and, especially, of the teacher. This is one of the levers
with which the teacher should operate on the behaviour and appli-
cation of his scholars ; and it were well, too, that, along with all
this, he is provided with certain rewards and encouragements as sub-
stantive tokens of his esteem and approbation. If it is necessary to
have an appropriate punishment for certain offences, it is equally, it is
more so, in reference to good conduct, to have certain honours or
rewards ready to l.> bestowed. There is no child who cannot be
worked upon in this way when the cord is discovered that moves, and
directs, and controls the youthful mind.

IV. The Will.

Nature of 1 \^culty. The various powers of the intellect and of the
sensibilities, with the exception of the a^sthetical and moral, have
been considered. We now proceed to make a few observations on
the AVill, or, as it has been, with propriety, designated the Executive
in the mental cal,:nct. We have, of course, no intention of entering
into the complicated and controverted points necessarily involved in a
full discussion of this power. All we attempt is a brief delineation of
psychological phenomena or facts displayed in a common act of the
Will, — this being indispensably necessary as a basis for its culture and
education.

By the Will, we understand the mind existing and manifesting itself
in its determining and decreeing state. The Will is the power itself, —
willing is the power in exercise, and volition is the determination of
the power, or the finishing act of the Will.

In every act of the Will there are always the following constituents
or ingredients ; — 1st. The thing to be done — the end to be accom-
plished ; 2. The motive, the cause, or the reason, by which we are
actuated ; 3. The choice or the selection we make from the various
objects or things that may be presented to the mind. This last ingre-
dient involves several points ; — 1st. A diversity of objects ; 2nd. The
liberty of making a selection ; 3rd. Deliberation ; and 4th. A prefer-
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Every one putting forth an act of liis Will, if he carefully watch the
working of his own consciousness, or observe that of his fellow crea-
tures, will find that the afore-namefl ingredients, all of them enter into
such an act. It may be that in innumerable cases, amid the l>esotting
activities of life, some of those steps or stages are unnoticed or unfelt ;
but in every instance of a purely voluntary act, calmly surveyed, these
steps or stages do enter. Of course, all are ready to admit that in
every voluntary act there must be some motive, or incitement, or reason.
To assume the opposite view, would be tantamount to the denial of
man being possessed of a rational nature. The matter of motive may
not have cost the party acting the least consideration, or it may have
been the result of a mere impulse of the moment; still there was a
reason, and the individual acting unhesitatingly admits it.

The motives or the reasons of our acting may be well designated
'legion;' and yet, after all, properly speaking, there are but two kinds
or classes of motives — the agreeable on the one hand, or the desires,
and the moral, on the other, or duty. These are perfectly distinct —
spring from difTerent sources, and oftentimes war with one another.
This is, in fact, the grand conflict or struggle waged in every one's
breast — the miniature representation of what is going'on in the world
on a lariie scale between light and darkness — truth and error. The
duty or the obligation may be readily apprehended and very easily
decided, especially when brought to the bar of an infallible standard.
It is far otherwise with the desires. These may cither have a refer-
ence to the body or to the mind, and how conflicting amongst them-
selves ; and, still more so, whenever made to stand front to front with
duty or ol)ligation.

But, when we speak of motive in connection with any one act, it
must be apparent that we point to the one master-reason, or the one
supremely impelling cause ; in other words, we use it in its specific,
and not in its generic sense. And this plainly imjjlies that we have
made a choice out of these that may have pressed tliemselves on our
solicitation or regard. And this brings us a step farther, and intro-
duces us to the consideration of all that appertains to motive in our
acting. In every voluntary act, there is uniformly implied a choice or
a selection made out of a number. There may be a great diversify of
objects presented to me, or I may be shut up by circumstances over
which T have no control, to adopt one course. Yet, all things con-
sidered, it is my choice to do thus, and not otherwise ; and so lo.ig as
I do choose, ai.J am free to act accordingly, the act is voluntary.
My arm has been dreadfully shattered by a machine. In a day or two

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the physician declares it to be in a state of mortification, and will, in
all probability, in a few hours, reach the trunk of my body, and carry
me off; and that the only chance, instrumentally regarded of s.'iving
my life, is the amputation of the arm. I am exceedingly loath to
submit to the operation, and to lose the arm on which, it may be, I
depend for a livelihood ; but there is no alternative, and I, therefore,
yield. Tliough, from the pressure of circumstances, I cannot decide
otherwise, my choice is still unimpaired, and my act is free. Sup-
pose, in this same case, I refuse to have my arm amputated, despite
of all the disastrous results that may ensue, and the physician orders
me to be bound, and performs the 02)eration. The thing is done, but
I am not in the least degree resj)onsible, as the act is no longer \ olun-
tary. But whilst, in the example referred to, I could not do other-
wise, in by far the greatest number of cases various and innumerable
circumstances are at work, influencing our choice and affecting our
decisions. We may, by experience and sagacious observation, be able
to predict the probability of human procedure, but hundreds of unseen
influences are at work, and thus our calculations and surmises may be
scattered to the winds. To the Divine mind — to the eye of Omnis-
cience alone, is the choice known, and all the contingencies weighed
to the minutest atom ; and thus provision made in all His arrange-
ments for meeting and providing for the case.

In the making of this choice, several things arc implied. There
must be diversity of objects — liberty of selection from among the
objects presented — deliberation, and lastly comes the decision or
the preference — the choice All is now completed, save the executive
act of the mind. This may never happen — the opportunity may
never offer. But this does not at all affect our volition. "VVe have
willed, and with that, our mental action ceases. Wliat remains is
jjhysical, not psychological.

Importance of the Will. This is one of the most important faculties
of the human mind, and that simply because of the relation it sustains
to the others, and the influence it exerts upon them all. It is, in fact,
the executive of the mind, serving the same purpose in our mechanism
as the mainspring in the watch, or, still more aj)propriate, as the
engine in propelling the steamship. All the energies of our intellec-
tual and emotional nature — all the applications and disposals wo make
of the varied f dties we possess — all the triumphs achieved by mind
over matter — all the activities of our personal and social being, are
owing entirely to the influence of this very power. But the Will
does not atop hero. It pervades all the relatio-js in which we stand

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l)otla to the Supreme Being and to our fellow creatures. It largely
effects not only the psychological hut the theological departments.
Nay, we may go a step farther, and maintain, that all the truly great
and illustrious in every age who have shed a halo of glory around
their name — who have signalized themselves for valorous exploits
as well as by magnanimous and heroic patience araid the varied scenes
and events of life, liave uniformly been characterized by a determina-
tion of Will of the most stern and unbendhig description.

Education of the Will. There is as great, if not a greater diversity
of "Will, as of any other power of our compound nature. Some
are very vacillating and lickle, whilst others are steadfast and
firm. Some are flexible, and easily diverted from th(Mr purpose ; the
least opposition intimidates them ; the smallest difficult}' afl^rights
them. Others, again, are resolute, and immovable ; dilRculties, appa-
rently insurmountable, but rouse their energy : opposition, i\\G most
formidable, but braces them for the conflict. But, however great the
diversities of this endowment, there is no form nor degree that is not
susceptible of the greatest improvement.

And how is the Will to be strengthened and reijnlated ? In no
other way but by exercise. The more the Will is exercised by the
carrying out of its own voluntary decnsions, the stronger and more
resolute will it become : the more determined it is in accomplishing
its purpose, just because it has purposed or willed, and not because of
any pressure of external circumstances, or even because of any goad-
ings from within, the greater will be its influence over all the other
faculties and emotions. It were well here to begin with the smaller
and less important affairs of life — to act with promptitude and decision
even in trivial mattxM-s, in carrying out our purpose. Thus will the
habit of controlling our faculties and sensibilities be formed, and this
will be transferred to greater and more important undertakings — into
more difhcult and embarrassinij circumstances. Pirrseverance and self-
sacrifice are here indispensably necessary. The boon, of whifh we are
in quest, is of inestimable value, and is not to be purchased at a small or
moderate cost. Whoever makes this acquisition, \tl\\< be prepared to
forego many personal pleasures and i,n-atifications — many alluring and
tempting offers; and to encounter no ordinary hardships and privations.
But what of this? The reward will far more than compensate for
all our acts of toil and self-sacrifice. Th(> result may not be very
apparent at the outset, and it may seem as if little or no progress had
been made ; but let the individual persevere ; — let him resist every
solicitation that would encourage the tendencies he wishes to suppress,

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and soon, very soon will he find that ho is obtaining control over Ins
other faculties, — soon, very soon will he see that he has made such
progress in mental discii)line, as that he can now hold the reins in his
grasp, and render all subservient to his purpose.

Of all exercises or pursuits tliere is none so well fitted to accom-
plish these high ends as a regular, consecutive and systematic course
of education. At this wo are under the necessity of applying the
mind to the acquisition of certain tasks or lessons. We know full
well that these must bo got ; that nothing but steady and diligent
application will enable us to accomplish such an object. This, when
persevered in, for a time, will terminate in a habit. Valuable as may
be the knowledge that may be laid up, it is not for one monient to be
compared with the power of controlling the faculties of the mind, and
of steadily directing them, for the time being, to any pursuit. This
shows ihii grand superiority of the Training system to all others, —
that, in iuldition to the knowledge it conveys, it gives a control over
the mind, by which we can prosecute the investigation of .any one
subject on which we have set our heart. This is the greatest of all
earthly achievements — an achievement whose results will not be
bomided by time, but will stretch into the coming eternity. The
education that will ensure all this must consist of something more
than fits and starts — half a year now and half a year again, with
intervals varying less or more. It must be continued, and progressive,
and consecutive.

But, whilst continuity and steadfastness are indispensable, many
subordinate helps may be brought to our aid and succour. Need
we, for example, refer to the advantages accruing to our mental appli-
cation, by keeping the body in a sound, vigorous and healthful con-
dition. We have already dwelt long enough on the i)oint of the rela-
tion subsisting between the body and mind, and the powerful in-
fluence the on(j exerts over the other. Let the body be in a state of
enfeeblement, and it is felt to be next to impossible for the mind to
put forth its powers and energies. This shows the propriety of watch-
ing very closely the state of the body — of using all means for the jire-
servatiou of its health and vigour. The reason why the ancients were
able to achieve so much mentally, arose from the fact that they expo-
sed their bodies to greatest hardships, and associated their mental
work with severe bodily toil and exertion.

Another subordinate means, admirably adapted to give power to
the Will over the other faculties, is punctuality, — that is, the doing of
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SCIKNCR OF EDUCATION.

167

of doing this, wc l)ctako oursolvos to somo otlior employment — the
reading of a ne\vs[)aper or periodical, or delay, at least, for a little
period, by indidging in some pursuit more congenial — we arc, the
longer we procrastinate, unfitting ourselves all the more for that
work ; we are doing what we can to render it all the more un-
palatable, and are encouraging a wandering, vacant habit of mind.
Scholars and students of every description, ought to have a regular
distribution of their time — fixed work for every hour, and be resolute
and determined in adherinj; to their arranjiements. This variety
will prove a rest to some of the mental powers, and thus not only
enable the students to continue a much longer period at their work,
but to throw off a far lar<xer amount of it.

Another admirable means for giviuij the Will a control over the
other faculties, is the practice of always writing an account of what
wc read — of making a kind of critique upon it, and of composing that
review as carefully as if we intended to print it. This would be fol-
lowed by many advantages. It would compel us to read or study with
steady and constant attention. With a pencil in our hand, and ;i note
book close by, to take down anything remarkable ; and, feeling
constantly the necessity imposed upon us of following out the thread
of the story — of 'racing the connection or relation of the various
parts, all this could not fail to secure a continuous, steady appli-
cation. The iwiii,ht, too, of our purpose to reduce our views to
writing, and tO ..Iticize the subject both in matter and manner, will
keep up the attention, and thus train to habits of thoughtfulness, of
mental industry, and power.

V. A^jStrktzcal, Education.

Mraninr/ of term. By this title we are plainly to understand the
use of all proper means for the cultivation of the sense of the beau-
tiful, — that sense on which the whole of the fine arts depends. The
term now usually employed to designate the fine arts, is Esthetics";
and the exercising and strengthening of the principle at the founda-
tion, as well as the carrying out of that i)rinciple into practical detail,
is appropriately called TEsthetical Education.

Nature of the Beautiful. Various opinions have prevailed as to
what constitutes the beautiful. Rome have denied that it possesses
any objective existence — that it is a mere emotion, or that it consists
of certain associations of ideas and feelings with the object contempla-
ted, or that it is the sign or expression of some quality fitted to
awaken pleasing feelings in us. Of those again who have given it aa

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objective reality, equally diversified have been their views as to what
it is — what it consists of — what its attributes or qualities. Some
have maintained that it is in novelty that the prinfi[)le of beauty is to
be found ; others, in order and 2iroportion ; others, in utility ; and
others, in variety in unity. All these make it consist in some form or
collocation of matter as such. But there is another theory still, which
passes under the designation of the spiritual, making beauty consist in
the manifestation given in any one object of the perfections of the
invisible Spirit, the Creator of all, in and through the material form —
the glory of the unseen Spirit, exhibited in the seen object or work.

Discarding, at once, the idea that the beautiful is merely a sensation
or an emotion, and tal .i^^ it for granted that it is an inherent quality,
resident in the object, we have no hesitation in expressing it as our
conviction, that the most tenable of all the theories referred to above,
is the last- -iliat which makes beauty consist, not in matter as such —
not in any mere arrangement of matter in itself considered, but in the
manifestation or expression under these sensible material forms of the
higher, the hidden spiritual nature or element, appealing thus to our
own spiritual nature, which is thereby awakened to sympathy.

This is amply sufficient to account for all the forms and degrees
which this principle of beauty may assume. Whatever these are, they
are but the inarticulate signs, the symbolical representations of that
supreme intelligence that created and presides over all ; and the more
full and pali)able the display of this quality, the more exalted the tes-
timony to the attributoB of the unseen one.

The test is of universal application. In whatever object the quality
of the beautiful is discoverable, there are we presented with some tra't
of the invisible spirit. Take the inanimate parts of crea'^ion, and
look at the chrystal with its straight lines — its regidar angles — its
sparkling colours, and collect all the chrystals of the same mineral or
structure, and all are identical with the specimen already examined,
proving that these features are innate or belonging to the very con-
stitution of the substance or mineral. And to what does all this bear
testimony, but to the uniqueness of the design — the order — the elegance
of the Great Creator ? Leaving the inorganic, take a specimen or
two in the vegetable kingdom, either the tiny violet or the majestic
oak ; and whether we are attracted by the azure blue, the sweet fra-
grance and striking modesty of the one, or by the sturdy robustness,
the glowing verdure and the symmetrical boughs of tlie other, we feel
'^orsuaded that we have been brought in contact with beauty of a
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SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

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captivating and winning ; and all this just because these objects
bespeak more loudly, and proclaim more significantly, the glories of
the unseen spirit in the whole adaptation piocess, and especially in
the displays of goodness, providing for the diversified maintenance of
that life, which is but an emanation of Himself — of the living one.
There is now not only the manifestation of intelligence, but of sensi-
bility — something not merely indicating the presence of thought, but
of feeling. If there is here more to admire and praise, it is just
because there is a more copious display of the glory of the infinite
mind, and of the surpassing excellence of His character. Passing from
the lowest to a higher condition of organized existence, take an object
from several departments of the animal kingdom, say an Arabian
steed, a bird of Paradise, or a golden fish ; and what do we behold
in one or other of these ? Everything that is proportionate in form,
dazzling in colour, perfect in their adaptations — one part exactly dove-
tailing another. And we can gaze upon these with ever-increasing
gratification and delight ; and that just because we discover yet more
manifold and nobler traces of the wisdom, and power, and goodness of
the Great Creator — of the ever-living spirit. But there is a being,
vastly transcending all other creatures in this nether world, in the com-
position of his nature — in the constitution of his person, and in the
design and destiny of his formation. Wo refer, of course, to man — the
lord of this world, the very image of his maker. Not only was man
designed to exercise dominion over all the creatures — to act as the
vicegerent of the invisible Creator, and to exhibit, in brightest radiance,
both passively and actively, the perfection > of divinity : he was pre-
eminently intended and fitted to constitute the very concentration of
our principle — the very acme of the beautiful both in his physical and
mental nature. And in what does this consist ? Does it consist in
the features of the countenance — their symmetry, proportion, com-
plexion or hue — their delicately pencilled lines — their finely drawn
figures — their fulness — every material quality in the nicest collocation
and adjustment, that can inspire with a sense of the beautiful ? The
human face divine may possess all these qualities in highest perfection,
but there is something that adds tenfold to their radiance and beauty.
It is the fact of each of these features being but the expression of the
intelligence and sentiment of the soul within, and that soul the very
image or type of the infinite mind.

But man is an imperfect being. Sin has marred and blighted
everything that he is and everything that he has. "We can conceive,
howevei-, an individual of the human species uncontaminated by any

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such stiiin, tlio great progenitors of our race, for example, as they came
innocent and holy from the hands of the all-perfect Creator. We may
and do try to reduce this ideal to a visible representation ; hut we have
no sooner finished one picture, than we discern faults ; and when we
have arrived at the highest elevation, we form the conception of some-
thing that vastly outstrips, and so we proceed, without ever arriving
at anything like perfection, — and all this because of the very principle
on which the sense of the beautiful rests — the spiritual theory, as it is
appropriately designated. And what a glorious principle this. How
befitting the dignity of the human species ! IIow universal in its
application ! IIow honouring to the all-wise Creator !

But it is now time that we attend to the way in which the mind is
affected by its recognition of the beautiful, whether displayed in the
world of nature or of art. Beautv we have seen to be an inherent
(pi.'dity in ol)jects. This property addresses itself, first to the senses,
and through them to the mind. There is thus awakened in the
mind, or suggested to it, the original and intuitive conception of the
beautiful, and by means of this the quality is discovered. When this
quality is presented as resident in the objects submitted to our con-
sideration, the mind compares, and classes, and judges, in reference to
these, and this discriminating power is called taste. This, too, has fur-
nished an arena for a large amount of discussion and disputation.
The definitions given have been almost as diversified as the persons
that have written on the subject, and these are sufficiently numerous.
Some have contended that it is a distinct faculty, and others that it is
nothing but a combination of others. Some have maintained that it is
purely an intellectual faculty ; and others, an emotional ; and others, a
combination of both. Into these disputes we enter not. It is now,
we believe, pretty generally admitted, that taste is a purely intellectual
power — that by which we discriminate whether tliis or that object is
beautiful, and what renders it so. But just as every intellectual faculty
has its corresponding emotion, so is it here. Our sensibilities may and
do enter very largely into our taste : they may be even the gi'ound
and foundation of thei..' existence ; and yet the emotion is not taste,
and should not enter into the definition any more than any other intel-
lectual faculty.

It IS intimately related to judgment. This power is of most exten-
sive signification and anplication. It performs the functions of form-
ing opinions and beliv, jf informing us of relations, and of deciding
that things are so-and-so. When it is employed in reference to sensi-
ble and actual things, it is called understanding; to abstract truth,

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SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

171

reason ; to practical truth, conscience ; and to tlie beautiful, taste.
The judgment does not furnish the ideas of the beautiful. It merely
enables the mind to observe, compare, discriminate, decide, form an
opinion. It is highly necessary to distinguish between taste and good
taste. But taste is intimately related to sensibility. Ry sensibility,
we understand here the mind's capability of emotion in view of the
beautiful or sublime. Viewed as acts, rather than as states or powers
of the mind, sensibility is the feeling awakened in view of a beautiful
object ; taste is the judgment or opinion formed respecting it.

Importance of the BeautifnI. This faculty is of great value, bccaiisc
of the influence it exerts. It does not matter as to the object or thing
that may be the theme of our contemplation, or the particular fiiculty
that may be called into reipiisition, the beautiful is at play in them,
and spreads an exhilarating and refreshing influence over all. If we
turn away from the object in loathing and disgust, it is because this
power is in vigorous exercise, and we see nothing to gratify or feed it.
If, on the contrary, we see any traits of the beautiful on any object,
we are instantly charmed, and the whole is enhanced in our estimate.
If this power is jjroperly cultivated, we shall see in every object pre-
sented to our view, something to satisfy ; whilst others will see nothing
to attract or interest. And the more it is cultivated, the more will
this be the case.

2. Nothing elevates and refines so extensively as this. The cultiva-
tion or education of mind in any one dei^artment uniformly brings
along with it its own reward, not only in its results, but in its own
immediate satisfaction and delight. This is specially the case with
the power under consideration. Nothing so dignifies and ennobles
humanity, or lifts man more completely above the low, the degrad-
ing and grovelling pursuits of the animal, as the pursuit of any one
branch of the fine arts. It is not only absorbing, from the deep hold
it takes of the mind, but it refines and exalts the whole of his other
pursuits and undertakings. It not only inspires with a thorough
detestation of all animal appetites and passions ; it regulates and cou-
f. ols the temper — refines the manners, and imparts a touch of its own
delicacy to every object with which it comes in contact. This renders
man not only independent of the lower propensities of his nature for
happiness, but even of the giddy round of aiimsements which the fash-
ionable and pleasure-hunting pant after with such insatiable thirst.
Whether in the contemplation of the beautiful, or in the pursuit of any
of the fine arts, he is contented and happy, far more, we believe, than
all the devotees of fashion and lovers ol pleasure.

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3. TIii;< power is of great utility in a social and commercial point of
view. AVhen a community or nation advances in wealth, it naturally
does so in civilization and refinement. Tt lias now got possession, not
only of what meets the wants of Jiature, but of an overplus. And how
is this to he legitimately expended ? In no other way than in the
gratification of this principle. The article cannot be added to in the
fineness of its cpialif}', but it can be vastly enhanced, in conformity
with this principle, in the way in which it is woven or put together —
in the way in which it is embellished and ornamented — in the way in
which it is adjusted and applied. And to what does all this give rise,
but the the cultivation of the beautifid, the division of labor, and the
interchange of articles. And surely all this must tend to the encou-
ragement of commerce. Fashion in civili/ed life is, no doubt, con-
tinuallv chaniiini;; but whatever that is. it must have, in all its parts,
that which is in accordance with this principle in fixedness and sterling
worth. This must necessarily increase the study and the ap|)rtcation
of all the departments (»f tiiste, and, by consequence, the manufacture
of the textile articles, and the interchange of commerce. And so the
round is going on, all necessarily dependent on this power.

4. This is of peculiar value in the whole range of natural Theology.
What constitutes the beautiful in any object, is the evidence it furnishes
of the perfections and excellence of the Great Creator — the i)residing
supreme intelligence — the invisible spirit. Do we, then, desire to see
proofs of the power, or of the wisdom, or of the goodness of the Creator,
we have only to look at the works of His luinds, either on a small or
grand scale, — we have only to survey the objects around in their pro-
perties, relations, or d(>pendences. Do we wish for evidence of d^^sign
and of intelligence, we have only to look at the adaptations that
universally reign. Or do we seek to rise from the effect to the cause,
we have only to trace the various steps in the process, until we can
get no further, and then assign all to the onniipotent Creator. In no
department of the kingdom of nature are such multiform proofs pre-
sented of the reign of supreme intelligence and of boundless goodness.

Edncdtion of the ^^sfhi'firaf. By ^T''sthetical education we are sim-
ply to understand the cultivation of the power usually designated taste.
This is an intellectual facult}- — a perceptive power — a matter of jutlg-
ment ; and as such, both admits of and demands cultivation. The
perceptive or the sonse must be educated. It is through the ear
that we perceive the melody of sound ; the ear must, therefore, he
cultivated, to enable us to perceive and appreciate either the rhythm
of poetry or the melody of music. It is through the eye that we per-

...4 *

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

173

ceive and admire the various forms and colours, so radiant with beauty,
in every object presented to our view. Hence the eye must be culti-
vated, to enable us to apjirehend the beauties of architecture, or sculp-
ture, or paintinjj, or the work of art, of every shape or form. And
this cultivation of the senses should be universal. It is true there are
some possessed naturally of endowments, bearin<^ on some one depart-
ment of the fine arts, that make them soar far above all their comjjcers
in their appreciation, their admiration, and, it may be, their execution
of works iti that department. But all can be taught to have some
appreciation, and even those who are more largely endowed, profit by
the cultivation of the particular sense. And this cultivation should
commence at the earliest dawn. Soon will those who have a natural
taste and genius for any of the fine arts, show themselves in the exer-
cises they perform. These should be singled out and encouraged, and
a particular course of apidiances chalked out fur them, that all justice
may be done, and that they may be fitted for holding that place in
that special department, evidently intended by their Creator. But the
judgment must also be cultivated. No forms of mental activity depend
more on education and exercise for their full development, than that
class to which we give the general name of judgment ; and no form of
judgment more than that which we call taste. The mind, uncultivated,
untrained, unused to the nice perceptions of the beautiful, can no more
judge correctly in matters of taste, than the mind, unaccustomed to
judge of the distance, magnitude, or chemical properties of bodies, can
form correct decisions upon these subjects. It must be trained and
strengthened by exercise ; it must be made familiar with the laws and
conversant with the forms of beauty ; it must be taught to observe
and study the beautiful in nature and in art, to discriminate, compare,
and judge.

2. But there must also be the actual practice. It is not enough to
cultivate the powers upon which the perception and appreciation of the
beautiful depend, there must be the selection of some one department,
and the cultivation of some one branch of the fine arts. Whether it
be composition, or poetry, or architecture, or painting, we must exer-
cise ourselves there, if we are to drink into the pleasures and obtain
the high regale which such is fitted to yield. And this will operate in
the same way as practice does in every other department. The more
laboriously we practise, the more shall the faculty be whetted and
improved, and this will again react upon the practice.

3. To aid in all this, we ought to make a thorough study of the chief
works of the great masters, in any one branch that we covet or are

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determined to follow after. Those works in literature and art, which
have received the approbation of time and the honourable verdict
of mankind, should be severely studied. If poetry, such works as
Shakspeare and Milton ; if music, Mozart ; if painting, Rubens, &c. ;
The fewer the works the better, provided they are really the foremost.
"We must ponder over them till we catch the very spirit of the author
— till we arc literally bathed in his atmosphere — till we are enflamed
by his fire. This will produce marvellous results. It is said that
Pollock, ere he penned one line of his immortal poem, ' The Course
of Time,' was not only thoroughly acquainted with the general scope
of * Milton's Paradise Lost,' but had weighed and studied its every
idea — had canvassed its every sentiment, and learned by heart its
every expression, — had been imbued with Milton's own spirit — had
been baptized into his very tone ; and hence his high success. And as
with poetry, so with all the other fine arts.

4. And yet what are all these works of art, presided over by the
mightiest geniuses, in comparison with those performed by the infinite
Creator in the world of nature. Wherever we turn our eyes, we
behold in every one of His works the touch of a pencil that is inimi-
table.

" Not a flower
But shows some touch in freckle, streak or stain,
Of His unrivalled pencil."

If we would produce anything worth preserving, we must sit humble
scholars at the feet of nature, — study, with godlike spirit, the various
combinations that reign, and strive after a nearer imitation of the great
archetype. The nearer the copyist approximates the All-perfect
original, the more distinguished, the more glorious, the more imperish-
able his work. (See details iu practical department, under music,
drawing, painting, &c.)

VI. Moral Education.

Nature of Moral Faculty, By Moral education, we understand the
use of all proper means for the developing and perfecting of our moral
nature. That all are possessed of this nature, capable of distinguish-
ing between the right and the wrong of human actions, and of realizing
. the obligation flowing therefrom, is, we believe, universally admitted.
There have been speculatists, who have maintained that this principle
is traceable, not to an original, law of our constitution, but to educa-
tion, early habit, legislative enactment, and the like, thus sapping the
foundation of all morality, as well as tarnishing the glory of the social

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

175

compact. In their attempts, liovvever, to substantiate their position,
they have signally failed, being compelled to take for granted the very
thing they required to prove, and thereby to leave the problem just as
they found it. Again, of those who have acknowledged this to be not
an acquired but an original principle of our being, not a few have
endeavored to resolve it into a mere sentimental emotion — a mere
subjective sensibility, thus rendering the high standard of morality
dependent on the ever-varying feelings of humanity — on the hnmour
and caprice of tickle mortals. That our ideas of right and wrong i)ar
take, in part, the character of an emotion, we readily admit ; but this
is merely as the consequent of our intellectual perception. They are
pure intuitions, perceptions of reason, first truths, principles of the
understanding. But though those are primarily apprehended by our
intellectual faculties, they never fail to awaken corresponding emo-
tions. They do not, it is true, make one thing right and another wrong ;
they are simply the reason why we so regard them, the natural out-
flowing, the spontaneous development of that intelligence with which
all are endowed. Viewing conscience in this light, the standard of
morality is placed on its true vantage ground. It stands forth in all
its native stateliness — in all its imperishable glory, independent of the
will or caprice of man ; as an inseparable, an essential concomitant or
quality of actions, engraven by the finger of the Creator himself on
the very core of the human constitution, the transcript of Deity, as
the Great Moral Leffislator and Governor of the Universe.

But we cannot continue this strain. We proceed to make a few
remarks on the nature and authority of the moral fliculty.

Every act of conscience, (the name generally given to this faculty
in the Scriptures), consists of three constituent parts or ingredients.
First, there is the discriminative, or that power by which we distin-
guish moral good and moral evil. An act is no sooner performed than
we pronounce judgment regarding its qualities. It may be polite or
rude — generous or niggardly — selfish or disinterested — prudent or
imprudent ; but distinct from all these qualities, we may always per-
ceive, that it seems to us to be either right or wrong ; and with this
there is the corresponding feeling of satisfaction, admiration, praise, or
the reverse ; the emotional, depending, to a largo extent, on the acute-
ness of the apprehension and the interest felt in the manifestation of
this (juality. The second constituent is the perception of the obliga-
tion to do the right and avoid the wrong ; to act, in fact, according to
the knowledge obtained ; and this, too, is accouipanied with an emo-
tion, impelling us less or more powerfully to carry into effect that

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obligation cither in the one direction or in tlic other ; and, lastly, when
the act is done, there is the distinct appreliension of tlie merit or
demerit of the doer — the reward or the punishment due, with the feel-
ing of self-approbation or remorse, when we ourselves are the agents;
or of praise or blame, when others have done the deed.

Such are the elements or constituents of every act of the moral
faculty ; but though we have thus divided it, it must not be supposed
that that act is to be regarded in any other light than that of the mind
existing in certain conditions and relations, in perfect accordance with
its constitution. Man, by the law of his being, stands in certain rela-
tions to his Creator, and also to his fellows. From this twofold rela-
tionship there are particular duties, which, the moment they are appre-
hended, wo are bound to obey, our obedience or disobedience bringing
along with it its own reward or punishment. All this has been desig-
nated an act of the conscience. That act, for the sake of greater
clearness, we have analyzed both logically and chronologically, and
found it to consist of three distinctive, cognitive elements, with their
accompanying sensibilities ; and yet, in all this, the mind is one and
indivisible, existing in certain states and operating upon certain mate-
rials. Of course the act is modified by the character of the materials
submitted to the mind. If that refer to the Supreme Being, the duties
involved will be, strictly speaking, religious, if, to a fellow creature,
virtuous. Both guide and regulate the conduct in all the relations in
which we can be placed ; and hence the appropriateness of the generic
designation moral — i. e. belonging or appertaining to manners.

Importance of this principle. In our synthetic discussion of the
powers of the mind, we began at the very foundation — the perceptive,
and have gone on progressively, every faculty rising in importance
above the one that preceded it. We considered, first, the intellect;
then the feelings ; and, lastly, the will ; and all these, we said, occu-
pied an increasingly higher place in the mental fabric. In the con-
sideration of the assthetical, we put the roof on the building, leaving
the region of mind as atfected by the external world or by its own
reflections, and launching forth on the wide sea of its own suggestions
— its own original intuitions, and looking at powers or energies of the
mind, both cognitively and ideally — both intellectually and emotion-
ally. We now put the cope-stone on the whole temple of mind, and
bid our readers contemplate that faculty which forms the stability, the
excellency, and the glory of all the others, which, like the keystone of
the arch, or the flywheel in a piece of complicated machinery, consti-
tutes the guide, the controller, the director of the whole. That con-

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

177

science is of supreme authority, and designed to act the part of monitor
amongst the other faculties and sensibilities — vicegerent of Deity —
representative of th.e regal will, is a doctrine universally achnit-
ted. There may be diversity of view as to the origin of this power or
as to its nature, but there is none in reference to its authority. This
enters into the very belief of its existence. In support of this, wo
have only to refer to the spontaneous workings of this faculty itself.
What, for example, is the emotion that instantaneously swells the
bosom of all, enlightened or unenlightened, noble or ignoble, young or
old, when the intelligence is communicated that a fellow creature has,
in some momentous concern, yielded to the lowest and most grovelling
of his appetites and passions, and lent a deaf ear to all the remon-
strances and appeals of conscience ? Is it that of detestation and
abhorrence ? It is that, but '"t is far more, even that of humiliation
and abasement, that a fellow creature should have so demeaned and
degraded himself, and thereby not only brought obloquy and shame
upon himself, but on the whole human species. What, on the other
hand, is the emotion, when a fellow creature, under the strongest pos-
sible lures and temptations, the animal, the selfish and worldly propen-
sities of our nature being all appealed to, boldly pours contempt upon
them all — walks through the furnace unscathed and unharmed, con-
science triumphing over all. It is that of the highest possible esteem,
and admiration, and praise. And why but simply because that indi-
vidual has yielded to the highest impulses of our nature — has hurled
defiance on all subordinate persuasives, and acted in a manner worthy
of his position and dignity. And what does all this demonstrate ?
What but that conscience is lord — is supreme. Or we might pursue
another line of argument, and show how we feel when we observe the
conduct of the lower animals, and compare this with that of any Indi-
vidual of the human species. Suppose, then, that any one of these
brute creatures, in a fit of angry passion, puts to death the young it
was suckling ; and suppose, on the other hand, that some cruel and
barbarous mother of the human family, in retaliation for some wrongs,
either real or fictitious, lifts a dangerous weapon, and, striking some
vital part, kills her child, how would we view the actions of these two
mothers. We would commiserate the case of the former, and endea-
vour to place her in circumstances that she could not again perpetrate
a similar act. We might scold and flagillate her, but we would not
feel anything like moral indignation toward her. In the case of the
latter, however, our feelings would be the reverse of all this. Whilst
we merely pitied the poor animal, and said, in extenuation, it knew na
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better, wo would denounce the mother of tlie infant, and the burden of
our charge wouhl he in the fact that she knew better — that slie ought to
have acted otherwise — tliat slie had done violence to her moral nature.
And does not all this again substantiate the truth of our position ? But
we go a step higher, and maintain that the supremacy of conscience is
necessary for the accomplishment of the object for which man was
created. The watch can never serve the end for which it was dtiigned,
unless the mainspring is assumed to be the source of motion, and the
balance-wheel its regulator. B}' this relation, the end intended is
accomplished ; and we, in consecpience, draw the conclusion that this
was the relation of the parts to each other, intended to be established
by its maker. And so is it in reference to man's complicated machin-
ery. The immediate end of his creation was his own happiness, not at
the expense of, but in accordance with the happiness of others. And
the question here arises. What is the relation amongst the various
impelling or restraining faculties of his being that will most effectually
accomplish this end ? It is plainly by having his passions, ii!? self-
love, all the animal and intellectual powers of his nature, in a state of
subordination to his moral. The office of conscience is to restrain our
appetites and all our impulsive powers within such limits, that the
gratification of them will injure neither ourselves nor others. This is
its direct tendency and object, however much man may disobey its
monitions and resist its authority. Let this relation be destroyed, and
all is anarchy, with every species of misery and suffering in its train.
Let it be preserved, and all is order, harmony and beauty. But the
superiority of this power is apparent, not only from its authority — its
supremacy over the other faculties and sensibilities of our nature, but
also from its own aherent grandeur — its own transcendent lustre.
"We have already endeavoured to substantiate the position, that con-
science is one of the most exalted of our intuitions — that it possesses a
direct relation both to the intellect and the sensibilities — that it parti-
cipates alike of the nature of the one and other, and thereby establishes
its claim to highest dignity and glory. Make conscience nothing but a
mere sensibility — a mere subjective emotion, and you undermine the
^very foundations of morality. You reduce it to a mere sentimental
impulse ; you subject it to the tender mercies of the ever-shifting
whim ; of unstable mortals. Make it an act of the intellect — the recog-
nition of obligation — the perception of good or ill desert, and you give
it an existent reality, investing it with all the substantiality of a qua-
lity inseparable from any action — a quality inherent in the nature of
things, not fictitious — not the play of human fancy or feeling — not

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

17«

relative merely to the human mind, but independent, essential, univer-
f;al, absolute, This gives to morality a quality of durability, lasting as
the mind itself — a pyramid, colossal in its breadth and towering in its
stature — a lustre all radiant, outvieing the glory of the noonday sun.
Truly, conscience must be supreme over all.

Now, if such be the nature of this faculty — if conscience is the con-
trolling, regulating power of the whole man — if, through it, all the
other powers are properly directed and rendered subservient for the
object for which they were designed, it is clear that its development —
its thorough cultivation, is a matter of primary — of paramount momsnt.
To what does the watchmaker devote his chief attention in the con-
struction of his watch ? It is the mainspring ; and that because he
knows that any flaw here will affect the whcle workmanship — that his
other labour will be unavailing, unless all is right here. Why is the
engineer of the large manufacturing establishment so deeply concerned
that the flywheel be properly adjusted ? Why but because that wheel
regulates the motion of all— every— the most insignificauL part. Let
the slightest irregularity or flaw take place here, and that very instant
v/ill universal disorder ensue. Why does the architect, in the con-
struction of some flne arch — why does he spend all his ingenuity, and
skill, and pains, in the fixture of the keystone ? It is because he
knows that on it depends the whole stability and serviceableness of the
fabric. And so ought it to be with the educationist, in reference to
conscience. It regulates and controls the whole of our complicated
mechanism. It acts and reacts both upon the intellectual and physical
of our nature. It constitutes the main groundwork in the formation
of character, without which all other education is comparatively use-
less. Its ci'U.ure is as essential for the happiness of man here, as well
as for his glory hereafter. But what enhances and constitutes the
grand charm of the whole, is its susceptibility of expansion and
improvement. Indeed, it would seem that in very proportion to the
<Hgnity of its position, and the authority it wields, so is its capability
of refinement of all but unlimited extension— of all but endless pro-
gression.

Education of Conscience. How is moral education to be most effi-
ciently promoted ; in other words, what is to be done to secure the
growth and strength of conscience in all its perceptions and sensibili-
ties? In reply, we say, that conscience, like every other '*'.**y, is
developed and strengthened by use or exercise, and weakened by dis-
use or want of exercise. And in order to this, the faculty itself must
be exercised. As it is absurd to suppose at the arms can be strength-

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eucd by the cxerciso of tlio fuet, or the eyes by that of tlio ears, or
the memory by that of the rea.soiuiig faculty, ecjually so is it to sup-
pose that conscieuce can bo rendered sensitive or improved by tlie
exercise of the uuderstauding. Tlie conscieuce, if it is to serve the
high ends for which it was given, must be itself used, not in i)urt but
in whole, both in its cognitive and sensitive departments, — used, too,
iu accordance with its laws, its properties and capabilities. But to be
somewhat more particular. In accordance with the analysis already
given, conscience is shown to consist of throe constituent elements ;
and it may not be amiss to consider, first, the cducatiou of each of
these separately, and then altogether.

1, As to the first element, — the di$criminativc. How is it to be
educated? If the act is performed by ourselves, plainly by our medi-
tating on its morality, both before and after it is committed, and by
our endeavours to l)e duly affected by it. If, on the contrary, the act
is performed by a fellow creature, we must study its moral (quality, and
either admire or condemn the agent. By steadily persevering in such
a course of reflection, our moral discernmeut will, every day, become
more acute, and our estimate of the equality more highly appreciated.
And all this will be enhanced by the study of the life of those who
have signalized themselves iu the walk of a high-toned morality, and
who, amid temptations of no ordinary power, have stood firm and
unmoved, or who, under the sheer force of couscience, have main-
tained a truth amid reproaches and persecutions that beggar all des-
cription, — ^who, rather than swerve oue iota from what they held to be
principle, voluntarily and cheerfully laid their head on the block.
Take the Patriarclis of the olden time — take Daniel and his three
companions, or the choir of prophets and apostles — the whole company
of martyrs and confessors, and what a galaxy of luminaries have we !
Take a witness nobler siill — the great Teacher of Nazareth. The
best men Itave failed, and failed, too, in those very scenes and in that
very way that was least expected ; but the great model of morality —
the exemplar and the portraiture of all that was just, and k>vely, and
of good report. He never failed ; His life remained untainted by one
atain — one unbroken chain of every grace and virtue. By meditation
on these and such like worthies, our perception of the morality of any
action, or of the moral lustre of some distinguished personage, becomes
increasingly powerful. Thus the discriminative ri»es to the highest
pinnacle of excellence and refinement.

2. The second element is the perception of the obligation to do the
right and avoid the wrong. Aud how is this port of the moral facult/

6CIENCE OF EDUCAHON.

181

to he educated ? Simfdy, we again reply, by exercise — liearkeiiing to
the monitions of conscience, and obeying its dictates. Here tbere is
sometliing more tl)an the mere consent of tbo understanding to a
moral truth, or the mere discernment of right and wrong, without
being re(][nired to put one or other into practice, or the mere speculat-
ive recognition that a stringent obligation to do the right has been
imposed upon us. There must be the actual carrying out of this felt
obligation ; and it is when this is done, that this part of our moral
nature is cultivated and strengthened. Some appetite, or passion, or
feeling, or act of selfishness, here steps forward — throws down the
gauntlet, and assaraes an attitude of antagonism to this obligation.
Tlius the two are set in hostile array, the one against the other, and a
tremendous conflict is engendered. If we obey the impulse of con-
science, and resist onr inclinations, the power of conscience will be
strengthened ; and if, on the contrary, we obey the impulse of passion
or appetite, and resist that of cons'iience, then, it is clear, that the
former will be strengthened. The inference deducible from this war-
fare is, that tlie si'"'e which gains the victory is strengthened, and the
opposite is weakened. This, therefore, is something more than a mere
war of words, or a mere cognition ; it is an actual combat. In other
words, the child must do the thing, and that, too, under the eye and
direction of the teacher. If, for example, a lie has been told, and
clearly and unequivocally brought home, it is not sufficient to denounce
the crime in so many words, or to punish the transgressor for its com-
mission, he must use every possible means in all time coming, not only
to deter him from telling lies, but to encourage him in speaking the
truth. So is it with any other immorality or misdemeanor. Not only
should the children, when they abuse or destroy any of their clothes,
be severely reprimanded, but actual steps taken whereby, for the
future, this shall be avoided. This is the way, and the only way, of
strengthenincj this injrredient of conscience. And this sense of our
obligation, thus circumstantially and vigorously carried into eflTect,
re-acts upon the discriminative — the connexion between the theoret-
ical and the practical is i*ecii)rocating. The more skilfully the painter
delineates the landscape before him — the higher his attainment in the
transferring of the same to his canvass, the more acute do his discrim-
inating powers become — the higher his appreciation of its beauties, and
the purer and more refined his tastes. The same reciprocating influ-
ences prevail in ethics — in the perceiving and doing, and in the doing
and perceiving. This connection is beautifully traced in many pas-
^sages of the Sacred Scriptures. Take the following as a specimen : —

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" If any man will do Ilis will, ho shall know of the doctrine, whether
it bo of God." " Unto him that hath, shall be given, and he shall
liavo abundance ; but from him that hath not," (that is, does not
improve what he has), " sluiU be taken away, even that which ho
hath." "I beseech you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God,
that ye present your bodies a living- sacrilice, holy and acceptable unto
Go<l, which is your reasonable service ; and be yo not confornied to
this world, but bo ye transformed by tho renewing of your minds, that
wo may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of
God." And exactly so is it between the element under consideration
and the preceding. The more thoroughly and com|»1etely we c;U'ry
out the obligation, the impulse, the more acute will t! liscriminative
power become ; and this agiiin will reciprocate upou the practical.
By this the real distinction between moral instruction and moral educa-
tion is rendered apparent. We may inculcate the duty of obedience to
the (lictattM of conscience as long as we may ; we nuiy describe the sad
and the desolatinij effects of our settin'i at ivou;clit tho obliixation of con-
science ; this is instruction, general instruction, of the best description.
To reduce this to practice in the following out of any line of conduct,
or in the abandonment of any vicious course, and this in the usual
every day routine of life, whether under the parental roof or in the
school-room — this is moral education — this is emphatically tlic training
of conscience.

3. The other element is the perception of irterit or demerit, and the
consequent approbation or ce/usure of the agent, as doing the right or
tho wrong thus perceived. This is' the bust of the elements that enter
into the composition of an act of conscience, aaid is the inmiediate
effect of the preceding. There is no encomium so satisfactory, exhila-
rating and transporting, as that which spring; ; from the testimony of
conscience, when its denmnds have been carried to the uttermost. It
is next to the verdict of the All-righteous Judge ; it is, in a sense, His
verdict. And how are we to secure the perpetuity of such an eucomiuni
— how are we to bask habitually under the sunshine of this judgment?
lu no other way, of course, but that of hearkening, with more implicit
obedience, to the dictates of this inner monitor. Every act performed
in compliance with its re<iuirements will but place it on a higher and
more commanding elevation — will but minister to our gratilicatiou,
or raise us in the estimation of our fellows. This satisfaction and self-
complacency will feed itself by every successive triumph of conscience.
That act of benevolence and charity, which would bring death to the
lieart of the miser, is to the pure philanthropist a source of highest

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SCIENCK OF EDUCATION.

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(leliglit — of tho most boiii«^ii joy. Every victory of conscience that
involves self-denial or self-sacrifice, will but add to liis meed of praise,
or crown with more verdant, with po«'ennial laurels. Every fresh act,
too, in the walks of benevolence and of Christian charity, will ])ut
open a wider area, a more extensive field, and conduct into new and
unexplored av(!nucs, every such exercise bringing along with it a
richer revenue of iiratirication and honour. Such is the method to bo
pursued in the unfolding and strengthening of the various elements
that enter into the composition of an act of conscience. For greater
clearness, we liavc oonsid(!red these apart, and shown how tho same
specific exercise is necessary for the education of each. It must not,
however, bo supposed, that in disciplining conscience to cpialify it for
its important mission, it is necessary to make this severance of its
ingredients. In every purely moral operation, the whole faculty of
conscience is iiivolvcd, and held amenable or responsible. The per-
ception '■^the moral (luality of our obligation with respect to it, and of
the moiiC or demerit of the agent, must all be regarded as one aggre-
gate or whole, and as susceptible, when thus regarded, of the highest
possible improvement. And what an immense deal implied in this
one act ; and how determinedly should we strive, in the use of every
means, to render conscience increasingly sensitive and active. And
this, as has again and again been declared, can only be done by the
exercise of the whole — by the reducing of its every verdict into thor-
ough, practical detail.

It is not enough, then, that the young arc morally instructed — that
their views of morality are orthodox and high toned, proceeding from
right moti\ es and directed to right ends. This is needful, but it is not
enough. Neither is it enough that they possess a due appreciation of
the worth and excellence of this power, both in its direct and indirect
influences and tendencies. Neither is it enough that they have good
examples set before them — models of every virtue and grace for
their imitation. Neither is it enough that they have pointed out to
them the indispensable necessitj' of reducing all they know to prac-
tice. All these things are needful as means, but nnless they are pro-
ductive of certain results — unless thoy conduct to their legitimate ends,
they are ntterly nnavailing. And what are these ends — what are
these results ? That the vounji do the things themselves — that thev
put their hands to the plough, and hold on till the work is done.
And how is this accomplished ? Uy the parent or teacher insisting
on fheir doing the thing — telling them how to do it — showing them
how to do it — guiding and directing them in the doing — training them

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to do the act. "We have already sliown the import of traiuhig intel-
lectually. It is the use of all legitimate means by which tlu; young
shall call into requisition the very power or faculty intended to be
cultivated. It is, for example, not merely to make them understand
and appreciate the reasoning of others, but actually to use their rea-
soning powers themselves, and continue till they reach proficiency.
And so with all the others. The conscience is to be treated exactly
in this way. It is not only to have a knowledge of what is morally
correct, but actually to do it until we arrive at the highest degree —
until it becomes part and parcel of ourselves — part of our very being
— 0. second nature. And with a view to our arrival at such an ulti-
matum, an important principle here comes in to our succour : we refer,
(jf course, to that of habit. It is almost impossible to overstate the
force of this principle. It is visibly and palpably displayed in every
part of our nature — physical, intellectual, moral and religious. It
influences individuals, families and nations. You may see its influ-
ence, physically, in the gait of certain trades or callings ; intellectually,
by contrasting the retiring student with the merchant of every-day
activity on change ; collectively, particular communities and portions
of society diftering in their modes of thinking, even In the same king-
dom and under the same government ; one town being noted for
honest dealing and courteousness — another, for wickedness, covetous-
ness and chicanery, and another, for evil speaking and tittle-fr-ttling.
And to what is all this to be traced, but to the force of early habit —
to a roiteratiou of the same exercise — aye, and until it has become
part of our very being.

And not only is this principle all-powerful in imbuing the mii.ds of
the young with the emotions and practices that may prevail all around ;
it is eijually efficacious in altering the whole character and conduct of
an individual. 8u))pose a child naturally combative, manifesting the
strongest disposition to fight and (quarrel with his play -fellows, and
that his feeling has been strengthened, in no small degree, by practice
— by the state of the moral atmosphere with which he has been sur-
rounded, — suppose that this same child enters a moral training-school,
where no such feelings are allowed to be exercised, but where, on the
cx>utrary, they are directed to what is noble and useful, and shortly
the power of self-control will not only grow into a habit, but the feel-
ing or disposition itself will be greatly subdued. A boy of this des-
cription, during the first week of his course, may strike and thrust
right and left, but his blows not being ret'u-ned, and now breathing a
moral atmosphere different from what he hau been accustomed to, and

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

185

partici])ating in a portion of its spirit from the iwwcr of sympathy, join-
ed with a more enlightened eonscience, liis whole conduct is (piiekly
changed into a more Christian and moral habit. This is the expe-
rience of all moral trainers in every ])art of the world in which they
have been located, and this oftentimes long before the grace of the
Divine Spirit appears in a decided change of heart.

And if such is the force of habit, and such its effects, surely every
genuine philanthropist and educationist ought to avail himself of its
assistance. And how is this state produced ? In no other way than
by a repetition of the same act — by the continued exercise of the same
power or sensibility. Such, indeed, is the effect of this process, that
what is absolutely disagreeable and unpalatable at the outset, becomes
an indispensable requisite for our comfort and hai)piness. This is
admitted to be the case with the animal and intellectual, but it is
especially so with tlie moral parts of our noture.

And surely it is all but unnecessary here to notice, that both good
and liad habits are most easily and rapidly formed in our juvenile
years. Look at the gigantic river, and compare its mouth with its
source — the trunk of the aged oak with the first sprouting of the
acorn — the old horse with the young colt, and on which of these
stages does human instrumentality produce the greatest effect ?
Un(|ucstional)ly you will reply, the latter. But this is all the more
palpably displayed, when wo contrast the young and plastic youth
with the old sinner, the grey-haired miser, the notorious drunkard, or
the abandoned debauchee. In the former case, our nature may be
said to be in a kind of fluid state, susceptible of almost any impres-
sion, either for good or evil ; if not the one, it is morally certain that
it will take the other. Surely, then, it behoves us to ply every
energy with the young ; and by the repetition of all those acts that
are lovely and of good report, to establish those habits that will grow
with their growth, and strengthen with their strength. Need we
wonder that the Author of our being, who is so thoroughly acipiainted
with the latent spring of human action, should manifest such solicitude
and tenderness in reference to the education of the young, and inscribe,
on his own infallible testimony, the precious intimation, " Train up a
child in the way he should go, and when ho is old he will not depart
from it." Nor can wo fail to perceive where our main strength lies
as the educators of the rising generation — the towering superiority of
a sound, moral education to every species of moral instruction — the
inestimable privileges, the priceless benefits of a thorough, domestic,
and week-day school training.

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The FaUihility or Imperfections of Conscience. Having shown,
at somn lengtli, what moral education is, and how obtained, were our
moral nature perfect, or were conscience infallible, its monitions and
practical workings, always in accordance with the laws (jf truth and
rectitude, our discussion would here terminate. But the case is far
otherwise. Like all the other jiowers of our compound being, con-
science has suffered in the catastrophe that has befallen the species.
It would seem that in very proportion to its original dignity and glory,
have been the depths of humiliation and degradation into which it
hath been plunged. We cannot here enlarge on the many imperfec-
tions of conscience. It were no difficult task to show, did our space
permit, that there are innumerable obligations under which man was
created, but which his unassisted conscience cannot now discover, or,
if discovered, now ignorant of the mode in which they ought to be
discharged, or, when both are felt and understood, how, even in these
circumstances, he wilfully resists its monitions, acting according to the
impulsions of blind, headlong passion, regardless, alike, of his own
best good and of the welfare of others, as well as in plain contraven-
tion, alike of the laws of God and man. But these ai'e points, gene-
rally, if not universally acknowledged. It is, there %re, more to our
purpose that we enquire, whether v;e have something like a sufficient
guide — whether there is any external appliance that we can bring to
bear upon our moral nature, by which it shall be not only illuminated
and regulated, but restored to, and re-established in its original, right-
ful supremacy.

We unhesitatingly affirm that there is such a guide, and that, too,
provided by one who thoroughly understands our nature, both in its
pristine glory and in its present dilapidated condition. And where is
that guide ? Is it to be found in the study of the works of nature —
our apprehension in these works of the existence and perfections of
the Almighty Creator, or of the adaptations of means to ends, or of
the various compensatory arrangements that prevail ; or in the study
of mind, our perception of the glory of the infinite spirit, as well as of
his moral attributes — as the Governor of the Universe ? No. With
all these exalted views of the Creator, as exhibited in his works, there
is no true conception of Deity as the living one — as the person with
whom wo have to do ; or if there is, it is but to discover to ns the
awfulness of that gulf that se[)arates us from the fountain of all per-
fection — it is but to perceive tlie justice of that sentence that seals our
condemnation — it is but to obtain a foretaste of the doom that is
awaiting us. So long as these barriers lie in the way, we can never,

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

187

in the full meaning of tlio expression, " look up through nature unto
nature's God !" or, as we look abroad upon the objects of nature, sajv
in true apjn-opriation, ' My Father made them all.' But if the works
of nature are incom])etent — cannot furnish an infallible guide to con-
science, what is to be said about the dealings of Providence ? Will
they make up the defect ? That the dealings of Providence, whether
regarded in reference to man individually or collectively, are well
fitted to impress our minds with the truthfulness of the saying —
" Verily there is a God that will reward the righteous ;" that the
physical and mental evils and miseries — the distresses and tribulations
— the havoc and desolation that an All-wise Providence inflicts on
individuals, and families, and nations, in consecpience of their sins, are
sufficient to convince the most stupid and insensible " that the way of
transgressors is hard." That these are all premonitory of a day of
final reckoning — all confirnxitory of the testimony of natural conscience,
will be readily admitted ; but that they are altogether insufTicient to-
furnish an infallible guide to conscience, miust appear plain and pal-
pable to every reflective mind, and that for the following reasons :
1st. Because the lessons they teach are the lessons of experience, and
come too late to be of i)ractical benefit ; 2nd. Because the lessons they
inculcate ar it best but inferential — they are not facts ; 3rd. Because
even if they "e authoritative facts — the motives and arguments by
which these lessons are brought home, are entirely of a secular or
worldly character.

But we need not dwell on these and similar points. Of the utter
incompetency of these two means to furnish an infallible guide to con-
science, we possess the most indubitable evidence in the whole past
history of the race, as well as in the present condition of the heathen
world. Every one at all acquainted with the history of those nations
uuvisited by a revelation from Heaven in bye-past times, is aware that
that is but a history of declension and deterioration, even where liter-
ature, the fine arts, and systems of ethical philosophy, were cultivated
and flourislied. And what is the condition of all piigan lands at this
moment, the most refined and civili/ed, — what but one of ignorance —
of superstition — of cruelty — of bloodshed and death.

The works of nature and the dealings of Providence are, no doubt,
of use — come in as admirable auxiliaries, shedding beams of light on
' many dark and obscure questions, as well as, in many instances,
imparting strength to the findings of natural conscience. But they
are utterly devoid of any quickening, renovating, directing or controll-
ing power. Whithej-, then, are wo to betake ourselves ? We have

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knocked at the door of natural conscience, and found it wanting. Wc
have appealed to the world of nature, and also to the dispensations of
Providence, and these, toO; we have found to he equally defective.

The Bible, the Bible alone, constitutes the guide we need, meeting
and dove-tailing all our wants, and presenting the purest and most
perfect, because a divine standard of ethics. More particularly it pre-
sents the brightest revelation of the attributes of Deity, both natural
and moral — all blended together in one resplendent whole ; it makes
known a way by whicih the Almighty, in entire consistency with Tlis
personal honours and inalienable prerogatives, and in the complete
maintenance and illustration of the principles of TTis government, can
deal with the sinner, and through the medium of views and motives —
of aims and ends, in perfect adaptation to his nature, awaken in his
breast that principle of love on which all acceptable obedience
depends ; it declares facts, and declares them with all the authority of
a sovereign ; it not only provides light — an unerring light for the
guidance of conscience, and promulgates a perfect code of morality,
but it discloses a supply of resources by which that code may be car-
ried into effect — by which the liglit may beam upon the conscience,
and guide it definitely and unhesitatingly to the soundest and most
enduring, because Heaven-inspired conclusions ; it derives the grand
burden of its motives and hopes from the world to come ; it exactly
supplements what is defective in nature and Providence, and thereby
substantiates its claims to divinity ; it is, in one word, the instrumen-
tality devised by infinite wisdom and love for the diffusion and perpet-
uation of a perfect moral education.

How should the Bible he used that it may accomplish its high errand
in reference to Moral Education — that it may imjiart light and poioer
to the conscience ?

Bible not used as a Tash-hool\ Before school text-books were
so rife as they are now-a-days, the Bible was used in school and
around the fireside, for teaching both to road and spell. This, it
need scarcely be stated, is all but entirely discontinued, and it is well
that it is so. To use it in this way, was fitted not oidy to despoil the
Sacred volume of that sacredness and reverence with which its perusal
should always be associated, but to awaken in the minds of the young
positive dislike and abhorrence to its truths.

Much discretion is recpiired in prescribing portions of the Bible to
be committed to memory. Every legitimate means should be employed
to render the passage intelligible to the whole class, and every circum-

SCIENCE OP EDUCATlOSr.

189

stance tlirown around fitted to dissipate every idea of gloom and melan-
choly, iiud to make it a pleasing as well as a profitable exercise.

Neither the New Testament nor the Old should be put into the
hands of the young till they are able to read it with considerable
fiuoncy and ease. If the attention of a very initiatory class is to be
directed to any passage, it should be read by the teachei', and that
with becoming gravity and seriousness.

Perused ivith solemnity. And this brings us to notice the solemnity
that should characterize the teacher, whenever he takes the Bible into
his hand. Three-fourths of the good that will flow from its use to very
young children, will depend on the spirit manifested by the teacher.
If he betrays anything like a lack of gravity in handling the Word of
God — if he reads it in a careless, perfunctory manner — if the tones of
his voice are exactly the same as when reading any profane or secular
author, instead of doing good, it will do harm, and tlie sooner the
exercise is discontinued the better will it be for the whole school
establishment. It will only set the children on the road of treating
the most sacred things with derision and scorn, if not with profanity.
It will bo but to familiarize them with hypocrisy and deceit within
the precincts of the divine temple it.'elf. If the teacher would train
the young to be suitably affected with truths the most momentous to
tliemselves and others, — if he would have them attend to them with
awe and reverence, — and if, above all, he would have them produce
any practical influence on their temper and conduct, he must approach
the Sacred Record with due solemnity, evincing, by every feature of
his countenance, that he is treading on sacred, holy ground. For the
accomplishment of these high and important purposes, he should strive
to be what he professes ; he should endeavour to realize the sacred-
ness and responsibility of his position, and both speak and act in a
tone subdued and chastened, and that just because it is to him a mat-
ter of heartfelt experience. Then would he awaken corresponding
emotions in the breasts of the young under his charge, and his instru-
mentality prove of real and lasting benefit.

With humility. It should be perused with a humble and docile
spirit: This is not the place to prove, and far less to expatiate on,
the divine inspiration of the Scriptures. That the Bible is the lively
oracles of God, as attested by its external and historical, its internal
and experimental evidences ; that it is designed for, and addressed to
the whole human family of every clime and age, of every rank and
degree ; that all to whom it comes are amenable to its truths and
dependent on its decisions both for time and eternity, for weal or

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woe ; all these arc points that must be taken ior granted. "We refer
to them here with the view of urgirjg upon teachers the paramount
obligation to impress the minds of the young under tlveir charge, with
the divinity of the Book, its indispHtablc authority, and its .ibs')lutc
sovereign claim on their acceptability and obedience. For this pur-
pose they should make themselves thoroughly actjuainted with the
argument in support of the divine inspiration of the Bible, — should
show by their tone, their whole demeanour, that tlu;y regard it differ-
ently from everj' other book ; yea, that they are willing to abi<le by its
decisions, to be directed and governed Ijy its laws, to sit as humble
and docile learners at the feet of its Great Author. This will prove
of far greater effect in their official character than all the instructions
or exhortations they can address them orally, however profoundly
conceived or eloipieutly ex[)ressed. This will be of immense reflex
benefit to themselves, preserving within them an abiding sense of
their accountability as the educators of the young, thereby inclining
them to look up for heavenly counsel and strength. "Would that the
time had arrived when both teacher and taught realized the spirit of
the youthful Samuel, when, on occasion of the first public revelation
he received, said, " Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth !" "Would
that the time had come when all shall hear the voice of God speaking
to them in his word, as distinctly as did Israel at the promulgation of
the law from Mount vSinai !

Teacher to have the free use of Bible. The teacher, if the liible is
to serve its high end in moral education, must have the free and un-
fettered use thereof. "With the view of removing the possibility of
propagating sectarianism in schools, some have resorted to the expe-
dient of allowing the Bible to be read, but without ote or comment,
that is, the teacher is strictly prohibited from explaining an^ passage,
or inculcating and applying any lesson. He may descant as long as
he likes on any of the olof/ies, he may deduce therefrom any lessons
he chooses ; but the moment the scholars take the Bible into their hand
his mouth must remain hermetically sealed, and that lest by the inter-
pretation of any passage, or passages, congenial to his own religious
views, he should be found guilty of spreading denomiaationalism
among his pupils. Now, before we utter a syllabic in reference to the
adoption of this expedient, it may be well to enquire whether there is
really any ostensible ground for taking up such a position, if the
charge of guilt can really be substantiated against any one teacher in
such a matter. "We never heard of such a charge even insinuated, and
we unhesitating throw it back upon the heads of those who advance

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it, as a foul aspersion on the wliole toacliiiig profession. In a purely
congregational or denominational school, the religious catechism of
the bofly under whose auspices the school is conductcl, may bo taught,
but that any conscientious teacher of a national system of education
should have bceii detected, converting his oMice into an arena of pros-
el lytizing and propagating sectarian views, we venture boldly and
unflinchingly to (piestion. We demand facts or cases, and till
these are adduced, we hold that there is not the shadow of a ground
for tlie charge. The rivalry of religious sects may have run so high
in some quarters, that great fears and apprehensions have been enter-
tained and expressed upon the point, but these, we venture to assert,
hav(! been more notions floating in the brain of public ecclesiastics or
political partizans, than realities exhibited in the professional life of
any painstaking moi'al educator of the rising generations.

But to return. Will the Bible, thus treated, answer the end
designed in moral education ? We positively and distinctly aflTirm
that it will not. We, no doubt, love to see the Bible in schools, in
testimony of homage to its author, even under the embargo referred
to ; but whether its being read without note or comment will serve
any important purpose to the young, is, we think, excedingly i)roblem-
atic. At all events, we feel perfectly certain that such a use can not
promote the end intended, even that of imparting life, and light, and
sensitiveness to the conscience, and, consequently, that it cannot
advance the cause of moral education. The conscience can alone be
reached through the medium of the understanding ; and if the intel-
lect does not grasp or comprehend the truth, or precept, or fact, the
conscience must necessarily remain unmoved and uninfluenced. You
desire, for example, the conscience to realize its obligations, and to
discharge a certain duty. This duty, we shall suppose, springs from a
certain relation subsisting between man and his Creator, or Saviour —
God. But this relation must first be traced and clearly apprehended.
Before that can be accomplished, some exposition is required ; it may
be the simple explanation of a certain figure or a certain term, — or it
may be the whole gist of the passage hinges upon some one technical
or conventional expression, or custom, or word, which the class may
never have had an opportunity of seeing before ; and that, remaining
unexplained, the whole is enveloped in midnight darkness. The
I^ible has been read ; part of the means has been used, but part has
not ; and, therefore, the end is unaccomplished ; and this, with begin-
ners, must occur in almost every passage.

Though we advocate the principle, that the teacher must be left

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free and unfettered in tlie use of tlie Bible, it must not be suppostd
that we have the slighest idea of turning the teacher into a i)rcacher
01 lectuior on dogmatic Theology. That may be appropriate work
for a congregational Sabbath-school teacher, but net for a teacher
of a national school. Besides, there is not the slightest necessity
of the pursuance of such a course, even for the teaching of Christian
morality. All that the ch'ldren here require is, to understand their
duty, and the motive essential for its acceptance ; and surely in all
this there is little or no need for doctrinal statements or discussions.
Give the teacher the unfettered use of the decalogue with the motives
of the love and fear of God, and he is amply provided — ho has all the
ammunition requisite.

Occasions of using the Scriptures. Having said so much in refer-
ence to the spirit in which the Bible should be used, and the position
it is entitled to hold in the public schools, it may be proper that we
now briefly advert to the occasions on Avhich it ought to be consulted,
and the purposes to which it ought to be applied.

1. In devotional exercises. And here it may be noticed, in the first
I)lace, that the Bible should be read in the devotional exercises of the
school. That the Almighty Creator and the All-gracious Saviour
should be publicly recognized and worshipped in every school in a
christian land, is what all, who make any profession to Christianity,
readily admit. This should be done at the opening and the dismissing
of school — -should consist of singing, reading the word of God, and
prayer ; the whole service, if possible, never extending beyond ten
minutes, and conducted in the most solemn manner. This exercise,
when properly gone about, is fitted to inspire the minds of the young
with awe and reverence for the character and government of God,
and especially for His Bible, the whole Bible, and not mere extracts,
singling it out, and investing it with an importance and authority
above all others, and rendering every saying and judgment as the
voice of Jehovah pealing in their ears. This exercise, too, will
elevate the whole moral tone of the school, making the matter of
management and government vastly more easy, and imparting tenfold
effect to every other species of instrumentality.

2. As a repository of religious and moral instruction. Again, the
Bible ought to be used as the grand repository or magazine of reli-
gious and moral instructior In addition to the purely devotional
exercises, there ought to Lv., a every school in which moral education
holds its legitimate position, a certain period daily set apart for reli-
gious knowledge. This may occupy twenty or thirty minutes, and

moral
of the
truth.

3.
the thi
tory,
These
such as
Tempej
7. Deci

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

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will

should immediately sticcoed the devotional services In the morninj^.
Three mornings in the week may be given to historical narratives —
one morning to an emblem lesson, and tlie other morning to a piooept.
Tlie mode in which these exercises ought to be conducted, is fully
detailed under the head of Religiotis Instruction, in chapter on Oral
Lessons. Suffice it, in the meantime, simply to state, that as more
than the half, both of the Old and New Testaments, is composed of
the most captivating historic details, bodied forth in the portraiture or
exemplification of living men, thereby investin<T them with the most
persuasive, the most melting influence to the y>, ng, notoriously crea-
tures of imitation, so should these details be thoroughly pictured out —
the practical lessons deduced, and deduced ))y the children themselves.
Another morning in the week, we have said, uhould be devoted to a
Bible emblem. This wondrous Book delights to convey its truths
and its lessons through the medium of similitudes, or, as we style
them, emblems. These are nothing but spiritual or moral truths,
conveyed through the medium of natural objects or visible things.
Wliat the teacher has here mainly to do, is to guide his pupils to a
knowledge of the natural picture, when the spiritual, or moral doctrine,
or lessons will be discovered and des(.ibed by the pupils themselves.
Another morning should be given to the picturing out of a moral pre-
cept. Some duty, generally or specially applicable to the condition of
the school; is selected — exemplifications given either of its observance
or non-observance, and these held up either to the commendation or
reprobation of the scholars. This is an admirable arrangement, by
which the teacher can promote the morality of his school, and that
without any direct allusion to any individual or number of individuals.
By pursuing this course regularly one day in the week, the children
will, in the course of three years or so, obtain an extensive know-
ledge of the preceptive of Scripture — be growing apace in the
enlightenment and verification of conscience, and the high ends of
moral education served. And all by bringing the moral faculties
of the young in daily and hourly contact with the Scriptures of eternal
truth.

3. As the directory in moral duty. But, again, we would notice, in
the third place, that the Bible should be employed as the grand direc-
tory, or statute book, in the every day moral duties of the school.
These duties may be classified as personal and social. The former are
such as the following: — 1. Cleanliness; 2. Control of appetites; 3.
Temperance ; 4. Management of temper ; 5. Diligence ; 6. Modesty ;
7. Decision ; 8. Steadfastness. The social virtues may be thus clas-
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Kificd : — 1. Truthfulness; 2. Justice; 3. Kindness; 4. Candour; 5.
Tulu-toUing, and the like ; G. Giving honour to whom honour is due,
as to our parents or our seniors, or those above us in rank, &c. See
requirements of the different commandments.

These virtues sliouhl bo encouraged in every way and by every
means, whilst the opposite vices ought to be discountenanced and
cond<;mned. Every motive, and argument, and consideration, should
be brought to bear upon them. But nothing will so powerfully con-
vince the conscience, nothing better fitted to lead to the abandonment
of vice on the one hand, or to the practice of virtue on the other, as
an appeal to the Scriptures. IJoth by precept and example, as un-
folded in the Bible, should the young be plied not oidy "n the usual
routine of moral eilucation, but particular virtues with their oppositcs
should bo inculcated at special seasons. "When any vice abounds, or
when any youth has been guilty of any gi'eat misdemeanour, a passage
from the Bible, bearing upon the point, with a corresponding narra-
tive, if possible, should be sought out and apjdied. The usual routine
of duties and exemplifications will prepare for this applicatic n. But
the occurrence itself should present the loudest call for its being
pressed home with more than ordinary earnestness.

Standard of appeal in all the affairs of school. Lastly, the Bible
should be employed as the grand standard of appeal in all the general
affairs and management of tb school. The scholars should be early
inoculated with the idea that iiie Bible is the highest of all authorities,
that its clear dfxisions on any one subject should put an end to all
strife. It is indispensably necessary for order and government in any
community, that there be some infallible, some common standard of
appeal, before which all are prepared to bow and make obeisance.
That standard is the infallible word of the living God. How thank-
ful ought we to be that in the school-room, as in every other sphere
and department of duty, we have a standard to which we can appeal
at all times, and under all circumstances ! How contentedly ought we
to submit to all its judgments and decisions, and how gladly unite in
carrying out its instructions and requirements ! However much these
may run counter to our inclinations for the time, we ought to place
implicit confidence in the dictates of infinite wisdom, and feel satisfied
that after what He has done for us, there is no command or decision
but what, if vigorously carried out, will ultimately serve our best
interests, our noblest destiny.

Need of Divine influence. Before closing these remarks on the
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SCIENCE OF ET>nCATION,

105

nmiss to romiiid oiir fellow teacliors that in tho whole matter of the
poruHjil of Scriptures, they shonld strive eonstaiitly to remember that
iho natural miiul cannot perceive the things of the vSpirit, and tliat the
Spirit's agency is indispensable to impart those views of divine truth,
that are sanctifying and moralizing. Much may he done by erudition,
research, and patient industry, to explain difliculties and clear away
overhanging clouds. A knowledge of anticpiity, of oriental customs, •
of natural science, of geography, of history and criticism, is all of
essential moment to the teach(;r, and places him on high vantage
grotmd in the explanation of many passages of Holy Writ, but he
must endeavour to keep alive within his own breast the fact, as W(dl
as constantly remind his scholars, that this will only be of enlighten-
ing, and quickening, and renovating and comforting power, when the
Spirit himself seals it on the heart and conscience, and that that aid
can alone be secured by humble dependence and importutiate prayer.

h'r-\n

RECAPITULAirON OF CIIAPTF-R.

This is the most important chapter of the second book, which accounts
for its unusual length. It professes to d'scuss the essential features
of the child's nature ; whereas the other chapters are only to be
regarded as the appendages, and occupying a comparatively subordi-
nate rank. In each section we have endeavoured to discuss the three
topics: — 1st. An analysis of the feature or characteristic itself, its
attributes and functions, — in other words, its anatomy and physiology ;
2iid. The position, importance, or utility of this feature ; and 3rd. Its
education, or the means to be employed for its development and
growth. On the first of these points, it may be supposed by some,
that we have dwelt longer than was necessary. This has arisen
entirely from our anxiety to lay a solid basis for the educational pro-
cess. How is it possible to do justice to the education of the faculties,
unless we are acquainted with the faculty itself, its properties, its
relations and its tendencies ? This desideratum is beginning to be felt
So long as education was supposed to consist of little else than a
mechanical process, a decent and competent scholarship sufficed ; but,
to a certain extent, at least, it is now otherwise. There is something
like a demand for the strengthening of the faculty, as well as for tho
imparting of knowledge, or, rather, for the strengthening of the faculty-
through the imparting of knowledge, and hence the need that is felt
for the study of the faculty itself. Comparatively little has been said
on the second point, the importance and utility of the organ or faculty

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uiulor conrt'uleration, and that .simply hocause thi.s, fron. its very charac-
ter, umst be apparent to every refleetivo inliid. The third and hist
point is the consummation, the cnhiiina»ion of the whole. Here the
burden of our story is exercise. All the plans, and devices, and
expulients resorted to, and recommended under this head, are designed,
and, we believe, well fitted to constrain the young to do the work
themselves, to employ their own powers, to draw their own inferences
and conclusions. In some departments this demands no ordinary
amount of ingenuity and skill, as well as of patience and forl>eari!nce.
In fact it is here where the grand dilliculty lies, where the mechanical
and the rational teacher must part company, where the talents and the
superiority of the real scholar and the thoroughly trained teacher are
most fully displayed. There is, indeed, comparatively little dilhculty
in physical, a^sthetical, or moral education, or in some of the more
mechanical parts of the others, in securing the exercise of each faculty.
If I am desirous to strengthen any muscle, or class of muscles, any
bone, or class of bones, I must just repeat, and re-repeat the act, until
the habit is fairly formed, and has become as much part of myself as
any natural propensity. And so it is, to a large extent, both with
ajsthetical and moral education. If, for instance, I resolve that the
child must abandon any particular vice in which it indulges, and must
practice the opposite virtue, I have no alternative left, no expedient
to which I may betake myself, but just to persevere in the same
beaten track, making him repeat it over and over again, till I
accomplish the object. Of course, many modifying considerations or
circumstances may be summoned into requisition by one teacher and
not by another, but the grand recipe must be adopted, the real specific
must be employed by all ; iteration and reiteration, until the habit is
formed, until tlte one dress is put off and the other put on. But
whilst reiteration is the all forwarding law in physical, ajsthetical, and
moral education, for our arrival at proficiency, it is vastly more com-
plicated, it is much more difficult in the intellectual and emotional.
Here we have to do with a grand generic master — power, manifesting
itseli' by seven or eight distinct kinds of operations, with varied
phases and hues, modified by age, by internal temperament and external
contingencies. What a study this ! And then turn we to the subject
of appliances. How diverse in their administration and adaptation,
even as are the powers and sensibilities themselves ! And then,
again, what discrimination and dexterity, and patience, in watching
the results even in one case, and how much more in 5, 10, 25, and
even 50 ! And then, above all, what enthusiasm and perseverance

8C1RNCE OP EDUCATION.

197

nro requisite to hold on amid manifold dis. ppointmonts and disoonrafjo-
monts until tlio victory is won, and the child competent to walk intel-
lectually without a crutch and without a prop!

But to be somewhat more particular. And first, as to physical
education. This subject, in relation to the school-room, has been made
a mean instead of an end, a stimulus for the excitement of all our
activities and sensibilities, an auxiliary to secure the largest possible
amount of mental and moral results. This view elevates physical
education to its right position, hove and beyond all mere mechanical
aims and ends, and associates it with the exercise of the rational and
moral faculties. It is right and proper, and in every way praise-
worthy, to attend to the health of the body, and, for this purpose, to
study and apply the laws of animal physiology. It is ecpially so, it is
vastly more so, to emfdoy every legitimate means for the development
and growth of the physical condition of the rising genenition. Kut
it is the highest of all physical api)liances, to render them subservient
to the achievement of mental and moral results, as a platform on which
to erect the most symmetrical and the most gorgeous superstn '•tures
of intellectual manliness and of moral excellence. This renders phy-
sical education an employment at once dignifying to the teacher and
beneficial to the taught. And what renders all this process of
appliauL i pecidiarly captivating and attractive, is the fact that there
is not an organ, or a system of organs, that cannot minister to the
health and growth of mind, that cannot \ye dedicated to the nourish-
ment and expansion of the most exalted and godlike principles of
humanity. In testimony and illustration of all this, we have shown
at length the operation of the ftmctions of the various systems of
organs — the nutritive, the supporting, the cutaneous, t' e muscular,
and the nervous, in their application to the ventilation, temperature,
and liijht of the school-room, to the gradinir of the ftjrniture, to the
cleanliness and orderliness of the personal of the scholars, to their
attention while at school, and to the regulation and progress of their
studies : and we have seen at every s*age how largely the physical
affects and influences the psycholo '.oal, how dependent our mental
health and vigour are upon tlie condition of the b , And what
more need be said in support of the importance of physical education
in the school-room, or how inseparably connected its fsiithfiil observ-
ance is with the whole aim and end of a sound and enlightened educa-
tion. The various details of physical exercises, &c„ both in-door and
out-door, in their adaptation to certain school employments, and to
certain ages and stages of progress, will be found under the chapter

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on school management. After all that has been said on this subject^,
it need scarcely be added that we give our most cordial approbation
to, and recommendation uf the movement now going on, usually called
" Military drill." We believe, that these exercises, judiciously gone
about with the young, are not only adniirtibly calculated to lit and
qualify them for all the evolutions of military tactics when they reach
the estate of manhood, but that they promote the heiilth, and vigour,
and gait of the body ; and still more, that they largely befriend the
orderliness and the obedience of the scholars, and higlier still, that
they impart a zest to all their mental pursuits ; but on these, and
similar points, we cannot enlarge-
Under Intellectual education, we have firet presented a classification
of the powers of the intellect ; then we have shown v/hat intellectual
education really is, iu contradistinction to intellectual instruction, and
how it is to be reduced systematically to practice ; and lastly, because
of tiieir importance, we have discussed the various faculties in rotation,.
with a view to their individual and more exact education. There are
two ways of viewing the operations of the mind, just as there are in
every other department of the world of nature, analytically and syn-
thetically. The former is the natural method. "We then look at the
faculty as it exists in itself — in its attributes or (pialities — in its rela-
tions or dependences. In prosecuting our energies thus — in proceed-
ing from generals to ])articularS) we are but nuiking the necessary
preparations for the generalizing and classifying process.. The syn-
thetical is the logical course, proceeding from particulars to generals —
from individuals to classes. It takes for granted that the analytical
process has been gone through — that the discriminative poAvers have
been in fullest exercise — that every (juality or property in itself and
in its relations has been ( ..imined, and tested, and allocated, and that
everything is now in readiness for reducing the whole to some orderly
arrangement. This step is taken, and a system or science in actual
embodiment — ^in complete adjustment and adhesiveness, rises up to
our view. Almost all the treatises iu the Old and New "World on the
subject of psychology, are presented to us synthetically, of which, one
of tl J best and most coiupcudious is Haven's Mental Science, just as
one of the ablest and most elaborate, analytically regarded, is that of
Lyall, of Dalhousle College, Halifax, to which we have ali'cady
adverted. As our object in the discussion of the leading character-
istics of the nature of the young is simplification, v^ith their practical
appli-ation to educational purposes, we have adopted the synthetic or
scientific mode 'if classification.

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

199

Here we have endoavourcd to unfold the grand expedient of intel-
lectual training, called by Stow, * Picturing out in words,* — an expe-
dient which, though it has been ridiculed by some and denounced
as unintelligible by others, is, ne /ertheless, in our opinion, in as strict
accordance with the findings of sound philosophy, as it is with the
plainest, the universal dictates of inspiration. All willingly admit the
utter impossibility of developing and strengthening any power or
energy of our intellectual being, without its being exercised ; and how,
we ask, can this be done, but by the teacher coming down to a level
with his pupils ; and how can he do so, without resorting to some such
expedient as is here taken hold of? We pause for a reply. With us
it is enough, and demonstrative of the impotency of all cavilling, that
the teacher of ?' .Jiareth — the greatest philosopher the world ever saw,
in whom were hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge — con-
secrated all these treasures to the practical application of this prin(Mple
in every relation — in every scene, and in every circumstance. Or, if
such an authority is contemned — as contemiuid it is by some — then
we ask, wli;it is all language but the exemplification of this very prin-
ciple — the employment of the seen to express the unseen — of the
material to show the working of the spiritual, whatever be the objects
or the combinations of objects, or the attributes of objects, or the
relation of objects, that may be presented to the latter. And why,
but because all are familiar with such signs, or symbols, or expres-
pions. Or, if not satisfied with this, we ask them to account for the
fact, why it is that all mankind, from the wandering savage to the
soaring genius, who wields, ut wiiL the destinies of millions of his
feiiiow creatures — why one and all of them, in their attempts to
expound their views — their thoughts — their feelings and their intents
to the less initiated — to the less enlightened, uniformly resort to this
mode.

In our discussion of each faculty, our aim has been to distinguish
the one before us from all others, and especially from those more
nearly allied ; then to press its importance, with the view of awakening
an interest in its educatiou, and, finally, to descant on the means to be
employed for that education. In tlie whole exposition of intellectual
education, we have contented ourselves with the statement of great
and fundamental principles, reserving details till we come to the prac-
tical department. In the third section, on emotional education, after
the classification of the sensibilities, wo have mainly pointed out what
is necessary to be done for their control and regulation on the one
hand, and for their being cherished, and fostered, or educated, on the

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other. These sensibilities are of immeuse service in the matter of
scliool management and government — in stimulating to diligence, and
awaking mind and securing obedience. The desires are of special
value in all these respects, and is accordingly the dei)artmeut we have
most fully considered. The subject itself, as a distinct branch of
education, is novel ; and both for its own sake, and the influenco it
exerts over all the other parts of our composite nature, presents urgent
claims on the attention and study of all enlightened educationists.

After the sensibilities we devote a short section to the will — the
determining and executive part of the whole man, giving effect both
to the operation of the intellect and of the feelings. As we confine
ourselves entirely to the psychological phenomena, little comparatively
is said respecting its nature and importance. A 1 yet, after all, we
hold that the theological and the purely mental aspects are inseparably
linked, and that there is no sound ai)prcheusion of the former without
its being based on the latter. The real question is. What constitutes
the freedom of the will ? And the right answer to tliis question,
psychologically regarded, dissipates clouds of ignorance and darkness
in reference to the theology of the question. The four elements
indispensable for every free act of the will, should be well weighed
and pondered by all who desire clear and satisfactory views upon the
subject. Much, very much, we had almost said, everything depends
on the power we have of this fiiculty. As our cor A of the will, so
is our control of every emotion and faculty. And here a great deal
depends on the educational process — upon our determination to follow
out the purposes at which we have arrived, adhering to these at all
hazards and sacrifices, anil that not by reason of any foreign infiueucc,
but entirely by reason of our own resolution. Nothing truly great
has ever been achieved, either in the natural or spiritual world, with-
out the will being in highest exercise, both innately and educationally.

In the fifth section, the subject of ajsthetical education is pretty fully
considered, at least, so far as the principles on which it rests are con-
cerned. If the foundation of all the fine arts rests on the intuitive
perception and appreciation of the beautiful in objects or things,
whether of matter or mind, our first enquiry here plainly is, what it
is tiiat constitutes the beautiful in objects or things ? Is it something
inherent in the object, which all in the normal condition apprehend, or
is it a mere mental state or emotion ? And having come to the con-
clusion that it is not the latter, the question immediately springs up,
what is in the object that all apprehend to be beautiful ? Here, again,
we are introduced into a wide region of speculation, but the conclusion

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SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

201

now all but universally arrived at, that it is not in the object or in the
collocations of matter in themselves, but in the object or matter as
expressing the character or testifying to the perfections of the fabricator,
and that in very proportion to the extent of this display or testimony,
so is our sense of the beautiful heightened. And how is the mind
affected by this apprehension of the beautiful ? Is it a mere emotion
that is awakened, or an intellectual perception ? Undoubtedly the
latter. The intellect perceives certain features and relations. It
passes judgment thereon, founded upon these features and relations.
This act of the mind is denominated taste. In some it is much more
powerful than in others, and these are said to have good taste. This
perception is susceptible of immense improvement in all its applica-
tions and departments. With a view to this, however, there must be
the actual practice. There must be the choice oi ■'ome one of the fine
arts, and a steady persevering prosecution of the same. Whatever
department is chosen, nature should be studied, and along with that
the best specimens of the masters in that department. The I'ecipro-
city here between the mechanical and mental, and between the mental
and mechanical, is very marked and palpable.

The sixth and last section is on moral education, the most important
of the whole, designed and well fitted to give a legitimate direction to
all the preceding. It is the helm that controls and regulates the ship.
The nature and the supremacy of conscience cannot be too carefully
studied, as fitted to evince better than anything else the importance,
the unspeakable, the inconceivable importance of moral education.
The principal thing to be here brought out is the radical, the funda-
mental difference between moral instruction and moral education ;
understanding by the former the mere imparting of religious and moral
knowledge, and, by the latter, the reducing of the same to practice.
All the coinpartments of conscience are susceptible of the highest
improvement and refinement. But the grand burden devolves on the
second, the perception of and the compliance with the obligation to do
the right and avoid the wrong. Here lies the very marrow of moral
education. The perception of the moral quality of actions, whether
performed by ourselves or by others, as well as the approbation or
disapprobation consequent on the performance of the action, either by
ourselves or others, these are parts of our moral nature deserving of
all heed and of the highest culture ; but really to impart tenderness
and sensitiveness to conscience is the promptitude wherewith we carry
its instructions into practical effect. The obligation which this faculty
imposes is the ready, and unhesitating, and cheerful obedience we

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render to its monitions. And are we always, it may be asked, to obey
its dictates? Always, and unbesitatingly, and without any reserva-
tion, are we bound to do so, or else it fails in performing thi' i'unctions
for which it was destinated.

But would not all this argue that conscience cannot go astray, is
infallible. This introduces another subject altogether, viz., the down-
fall and degeneracy of this vicegerent of divinity within us, and
promi)ts the en(juiry whether in its wrecked and dilapidated condition
the lord of conscience has provided any means for its enlightenment and
quickening, for its consequent restoration to rightful supremacy. This
question we have answered at some length. We have endeavoured to
show that whilst conscience is in itself depraved, and cannot, unaided,
serve the end for which it was intended, neither natural religion nor
the dispensations of Providence can furnish a guide, an infallible guide;
— that some other light iz indispensable, and that that light is to
be found in the Bible, and in the Bible alone, that the revelation it
contains exactly suits the wants of the case. This advances us
another step in our argument — the use that ought to be made of the
Bible in school so as to secure a thorough moral education. Here we
take up and endeavour to defend the position, that, if moral education
is to be carried on, the children must be brouglit into daily and hourly
contact with the Bible ; and for this purpose that the teacher have
the free and unfettered use thereof, not to impart a knowledge of the
peculiarities of any denomination, or even to unfold the doctrines of
Christianity, but to explain and inculcate the great lessons of morality,
with all the aims and moiives that can render tliat morality accept-
able in the sight of hea ^en. There may be difficulties in legis-
lating about the use of the Bible in schools, in countries where there
exists a large mixture of Protestants and Roman Catholics, but
there can be none as to its use in schools where a sound, moral edu-
cation is considered indispensable. There, it is just as essential as it
is for the sun to cive life and viiror to all organized existences, or as it
is for atmospheric air to impart healthful respiration to the whole
animal creation. The manner and occasions of its use have been
fully detailed. The whole efficiency of tlie moral education will
depend on the hoio and the when being both properly attended to.
As to the general argument of the use of the Bible in schools, derived
from its being the birtlu-ight of every child — from its being essential
for the welfare of communities and states — from the nature of an oath
— from the impossibility of divorcing religion from morality, and such
like considerations, we have said nothing, as it lay not within our

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track. All that we had to do was to consider its bearing on the sub-
ject of moral education, and for that it is just as necessai'y as the
letters of the alphabet ai'e for learning to read.

CHAPTER III.

SECOND CHARACTERISTIC.

TUE V'AUIOOS INGUEI>IENTS OF THE CIIILD's COMPOUND NATUKE ARE IN INDI8-
.SOLUBLE UNION AND RECIPUOCAI. DEPENDENCE: — ADAPTATION, SIMUL-
TANEOUS EXERCISE. — InfLUENCK OF MINI) ON BODY IN HEALTH AND

DISEASE, Extract from Aiiercromhie's Intellectual Philosophy. —
Influence of mind on rodt. — Of one part of mind on another; —
OF intellect on sensibilities, on the beautiful, on conscience; —
reaction, conscience on intellect, body, SiC. — Adaptation process ;
exercise the various ingredients of compound nature, individu-
ally, and simultaneously, so as to aid one another.

Iiijlmnce of mind on body in health. This characteristic, and the
way in which we avail ourselves of it for the furtherance of the
education of the young, will bo readily perceived. Though, in the
preceding chapter, for the sake of greater clearness, we have given
to each of the constituent parts of the child's nature a separate con-
sideration, it should ever be borne in mind that they are indissolubly
iiuited, and that not in confused medley, but in nicest harmony, in
symmetrical order, rising consecutively the one above the other, from
the body to the conscience, from that which unites man to earth, to
tliat which unites him to heaven, from that which assimilates him to
the animal to that which assimilates him to the divinity. Each part
subserves an important purpose, directly and indirectly ; and all con-
spire to form a perfect individual of the human species.

But these ingredients of our compound nature are not only in-
separably united, they are also reciprocally dependent, acting and
reacting the one upon the other. On a largo scale the body operates
upon the mind, and the mind upon the body, whilst the mind, in its
several compartments, the intellect, the sensibilities, and the conscience,
act and react the one upon the other, with no less certainty, yet
scarcely so palpably.

Body on mind in health. In our discussion on physical education,
we have had abundant evidence of the way in which the body operates
upon the mind. Indeed, the grand utility of physical education in the

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school-room arises from this very inftucnce. "We have seen, that there
is not oven a single department or exercise in the life-work of the
teacher, that the body, when the laws of animal physiology are duly
attended to, cannot subserve the high, the ennobling destiny of the
mind. It were, then, altogether a work of superei'ogation again to
open up the subject. There is, hov/ever, one point to which we must
here advert, namely, the influence of the body in disease, upon our
mental condition.

Bodf/ on mind in disease. Almost all that we have said on this
subject under physical education, refers to the body in a healthful
condition. The influence of the body, when diseased, upon the mental
powers is still more remarkable and potent, and deserves special notice
here. " The first mental function," says Dr. Abercrombie, " which is
impaired by bodily disease, is usually the power of attention ; this we
see illustrated in all febrile affections. The patient, in the early or
milder stages, is incapable of fixing his mind upon anything that
requires much attention, of following out an argument, or of transact-
ing business which calls for much thought or consideration. lie is
acute and intelligent as to all common occurrences, and shows no
want of recollection, or of the power of reasoning, when his attention
is excited ; but he feels it an exertion that is painful to him. In a
higher degree of this condition, he is still intelligent as to what is said
or done at the time, or in recognizing persons ; but in a short time
forgets every thing in regard to the person or the occurrence. He is
incapable of that degree of attention which is necessary for the memory,
though the jiowers of perception are entire. In the next stage he is
incapable of receiving the full impression from external things ; and
in consequence of this he mistakes the objects of his own thoughts for
realities. This is delirium, and there are various degrees of it. In
some cases the attention of the patient can be roused for a time and
directed to the true relations of external things, though he relapses
into his delirious impressions when he is left undisturbed ; in others,
tlie false impression is constant, and cannot be corrected by any effort
which is made to direct the attention ; and in a third modification of
this remarkable condition, ho mixes up his hallucinations with external
impressions in a most singular manner. lie is still capable, however,
of describing his impressions, that is, of talking so as to be understood,
though what he speaks of relates only to his erroneous conception, or
mere bodily feelings. In the next stage, he either does not attempt
to express himself at all, or is entirely unintelligible. Ho is now cut
off from communication with external things,

aud with other sentient

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beings ; and the liighest degree of this is what we call coma, or stupor,
which resembles profound sleep."

This description refers chiefly to the gradations in the state of the
mental functions, observable in continued fever. It is jiarticularly
interesting to trace them in this disease, because we see the various
grades passing into one another, and thus showing, in a connected
series, the leading peculiarities, which, in other affections, we have to
contemplate separately.

Such is the testimony of the greatest physico-psychologist that, per-
haps, the present century has produced as to the influence of fevers in
their different stages on the mental constitution. Similar effects follow
from injuries of the head, affections of the brain, and diseases of debil-
ity, as well as from habits of intemperance and other species of dissi-
pation. These effects may be chiefly referred to the following heads,
abridiicd from Abercrombie — 1. A state in which the attention can-
not be steadily directed to a long and connected train of thoughts, or
to anything requiring a continued effort of mind ; 2. A state in which
the impression made by external things is not sufficient to produce
remembrance, though there appears to be at the time a perfect percep-
tion ; 3. The third condition is that in which external impressions are
either not perceived at all, or are perceived in a manner which cannot
convey any distinct notion of their relations to the mind ; 4. A remark-
able circumstance for many of the cases referred to under the preced-
ing heads is, that, along with a greater or less degree of incapability of
attending to present objects, there is often a wonderful activity of mind
in regard to old impressions, and even the renewal of recollections
which had been entirely lost ; 5. The last condition is the state of
stupor or coma, in which the mind is entirely cut off" from intercourse
with the external world. This occurs in the worst states of fever — in
various diseases of the brain and injuries of the head ; and the same
condition takes place, from a very different cause, in the state of
fainting.

But not only does disease impair or suspend the mental powers, it
also obliterates impressions formerly received and long retained.
This condition is sometimes permanent, but frequently is recovered
from ; and recovery takes place in some cases gradually, in others very
suddenly. A still more remarkable phenomenon, connected with cases
of this kind, occurs in some instances in which there is perfect intel-
ligence in regard to recent circumstances, but an obliteration of former
impressions. Another remarkable modification of this condition of
the mental powers, is found in those cases in which there is loss of

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the recollection of a particular period. Though these and similar
facts of the influence of cerebral disease upon the manifestations of
mind present a series of phenomena of the most remarkable kind,
they give no countenance to the doctrine of materialism, which some
have i)resimiptuously deduced from a very partial view of them. Tliey
show us indeed, in a very striking manner, the mind holding inter-
course with the external world through the medium of the brain and
nervous system ; and by certain diseases of these organs, they show
this intercourse impaired or suspended ; but they show nothing more.

Injluence of mind on body. But we must now turn from this view
of the subject, and contemplate for a little the influence of the mind
ou the body. There is no lack of illustrations on this point. Con-
trast the physical frame in undergoing fatigue when under strong
mental stimulus and when it is not. Look, for example, at the
snortsman, and the servant in attendance, the bearer of the spoil, tlie
cairior of the game. They have scarcely travelled five or six miles
till the latter begins to give evidence of fatigue, every additional rod
becomes a mile in his estimate, every fresh capture is double its real
weight, and ere long he is seen lagging far behind, can hardly keep
sight of his master, and is well nigh sinking under the oppressive bur-
den. The forviier, on the other hand, eagerly bent on his sport, tra-
verses mouiitaiu and moor with increased activity, and agility, and
buoyancy; and it is not till the shades of evening interfere, and put an
end to his sport, that he begins to realize the length of the journey ho
has travelled — the amount of physical toil he has undergone, or even
his present state of exhaustion. All this is plainly owing to the men-
tal stimulus and excitement which have all along sustained and impelled
him onward.

Again, take the student of nature — the man who can perceive the
beautiful in the objects around, and the man who has no appreciation
of such objects. The one walks on amid scenes that entrance his
whole inner man— amid landscapes ever variegated and ever verdant,
and is as fresh at the end of his journey as at the commencement ; the
other, before he travels half the distance, is tired and worn out, and
the reason of this is plain. The former is under mental excitement,
and the latter is not. Lastly, compare two individuals walking ; the
one in company with some genial, cheerful companion, or having some
object in view — in search of minerals, or vegetable, or animals ; and
the other, all alone, with no other object in view save that of physical
exercise. Whilst the former is all life, and elasticity, and springiness,
the latter saunters weariedly along, dragging one foot after the other

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

207

nltli reluctant stop, without deriving any, or, at least, scarcely any
benefit from this pedestrian exercise. The reason is the same as
before.

lajluence of one part of mind on another. But not only do the body
and mind act and re-aci, the one upon the other ; the various parts of
the mind do so likewise ; the intellect upon the sensibilities and will,
and the sensibilities and will upon the intellect ; the intellect, the sen-
sibilities and will upon the conscience, and the conscience upon the
intellect, sensibilities and will.

'• There can be no feeling without the previous cognizance of some
ohjtict, in view of which the feeling is awakened. Affection always
implies an object, and the object is first .apprehended by the intellect
Lefore the emotion is awakened in the mind. When we love, wo love
something ; when wc desire, we desire something: when wo fear, or
liope, or hate, there is always some object, more or less clearly defined,
that awakens those feelings, and, in proportion to the clearness and
vividness of the intellectual conception or perception of the object,
will be the strength of the feeling. Within, certain limits, the one
varies as the other. The man of strong and vigorous mind is capable
of stronger emotion than the man of dwarfed and puny intellect.
Milton, Cromwell, Napoleon, Webster, surpassed other men, not more
in clearness and strength of intellect, than in energy of feeling. In
this, indeed, lay, in no small degree, the secret of their superior power.

" On the other hand, it is equally true that the state of the intellect
in any case depends not a little on the mind's capacity of feeling. A
quick and lively sensibility is more likely to be attended with quick-
ness and strength of intellectual conception, imagination, perception,
and even reasoning. These are quickened and set in active play by
its electric shock. A man with sluggish sensibilities, is almosc of ne-
cessity a man of dull and sluggish intellect. A man without feeling,
if we can conceive so strange a phenomenon, would bo a man the
measure of whose intellectual capacity would be little above that of
the brute."

Influence of Intellect on the Beautiful. But more particularly it might
be shown how much the influence of the intellectual is over the ossthet-
ical, and the ajsthetical over the intellectual. He who delineates
objects of loveliness, finds the discriminating power of taste to im-
prove. This connection between theoretical knowledge and practical
application is frequently illustrated in the other faculties. But on this
point we cannot enlarge. We would rather solicit attention for a
little to the reciprocating of the Intellect and Conscience. • ■ -■

208

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Tnjlucncc of Intellect on Conscience. The influence of tlio intelloct
on the conscience is well known and universally admitted. The
grand standard of all morality is the divine law, and this is neither
more nor less than a transcript of the divine mind. The knowledge
of this standard is indispensably necessary before conscience can dis-
criminate between the right and the wrong in human action, or
realize the impelling power of this vicegerent of divinity within. And
it is the intellect alone that will enable us to arrive at a right know-
ledge of this standard. Just as the understanding apprehends the
properties of this standard, perceives its inherent perfection, its suit-
ableness to our case, and the indissolubleness of the connection be-
tween obedience to its requirements and our truest and highest
happiness — so will conscience rise to its legitimate position, as the fly-
wheel or regulator in our mental mechanism. We have alreadv
discussed this subject under moral education, and therefore need not
here enlarge.

Of Conscience on Intellect. But the power which the conscience
exerts over the intellect is still more worthy of notice. The more
implicitly we obey the monitions of conscience, the more acute will be
its power of discrimination, and the more prompt and definite its
decisions. This effect in morals is frequently alluded to in the Scrip-
tures. (See quotations under Moral Education.)

And how often have wo seen the reality of this connection bodied
forth and exemplified, in the case of the untutored mind brought under
the hallowing influence of divine truth ! Not only does the reception
of this truth influence, and elevate, and control his emotional and
moral nature ; it also expands and enlarges his intellectual. This
oftentimes, and with great cogency, is presented to us in prayer. On
such occasions how frequently have we heard the rudest mind giving
utterance to the loftiest ideas in Theology, and these uttered in the
most eloquent, because naturally simple language — ideas unsurpassed
by the most profound and learned theologian. And this expansion of
intellect is not confined to religious truths, but extends also to secular
things, not only giving another direction to these matters, but enlarg-
ing his natural views and sentiments regarding them, and enabling him
to direct his mind to their study with far greater energy, and diligence
and perseverance.

But we have said enough to establish the soundness of our position.
Whether we consider the body and mind in th ir broad, distinctive
features, or the mind itself in its grand divisions ui ways of operation,
the direct and reflex influence of the one upon the other is great and

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

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ic'lloct
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extensive, and, when legitimately used, cannot full to place a powerful
instrument in the hand of the skilful educator. How ho should wield
this instrument, is what next demands our consideration.

Adaptation process — Exercise each part. It is hero that so many
betray the most erroneous and circumscribed views regarding the grand
end of the education of the rising g(!neration. Looking upon that
end in no higher 'ight than that of (qualifying the recipients for pur-
suing their fortune in the world, for putting them in a fair and honor-
able position of earning a decent and competent livelihood, they
naturally enough conclude that that education is ample and sutRcient,
which imparts a knowledge of those branches most likely to accom-
|)li.sh that object. Accordingly, it is no uncommon thing to find
parents instructing the teachers of their offspring respecting their
future vocation, and restricting their education, as much as possible,
to those brandies that have the most direct bearing upon that voca-
tion. They seem utterly unconcerned about their being (pialified for
the general active duties of life — cpialified for running their destined
course, and still less for the high and ennobling exercises and employ-
ments of an eternal existence. They are, to say the least, perfectly
passive in reference to their religious or moral instruction. They do
not actually prohibit such instruction, but it is only in so far as it
makes no encroachment upon their other more essential secular
studies.

Now, supposing these views and directions are perfectly correct,
and vigorously carried out by the teacher, it becomes a very important
subject of enquiry whether the end in view — the qualifying the young
for some trade or worldly employment — is by this course most effect-
ively accomplished. We unhesitatingly reply in the negative, and
tliat on the ground of the very union under discussion. By leaving a
part or a number of ingredients without education, or in a state of
nature, you are not only destroying the symmetry of the whole, but
impairing, to a certain extent, the very vigour of those parts which
you are so desirous to cultivate. You are, to that extent at least,
withholding the stimulus and encouragement from those very parts
essential for their growth and development. The real benefit of the
culture of any one depends on the culture of all the rest — and the
beauty and perfection of the compound being depend upon the
thorough education of every one of its parts, according to their in-
trinsic and relative value. It is thus plain, that, by keeping any one
part of our nature in a state of abeyance, we are not only doing injus-
tice to it directly, but we are preventing ourselves from doing justice

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to the very part we are concenicd about, and to wliicli we are devoting
so much of our tirae and energy with a view to its improvement and
advancement. To dissever where the Creator has united, and to give
any one; i)art all our eflorts for their education, is tantamount to jui
impugning of tlit! wisdom and goodness of J'rovidence in making the
necessary adjustments for the union of these ])arts. It is thus clear,
that for the benefit of any one ingredient of our compound nature, as
well as for the perfection of the whole, all the parts should be exer-
cised and strengthened, or educated according to their intrinsic and
relative value. Man is neither a purely intellectual, or emotional, or
moral being, but a eomi)Ound of all ; and for the b(!auty and glory of
each, all should receive a due share of attention and regard. N(^glect
or omit any one, and that instant the /hole is impaired, and the very
part we are most concerned about, does not, and cannot receive the
same measure of justice.

Simultaneous Exercise. To devote a certain amount of time each
day to jihysical and intellectual — to emotion.il and moral education,
sejiarately, is, no doubt, the recognition of the claims of each part, a
recognition that the young are compoun-l beings. But this does not
render available, for the purjioses of education, the dependence of the
one part on the other, their acting and re-acting. In order to this, the
teacher, whilst engaged in any one branch of education, or in the cul-
tivation of any faculty or class of faculties, must call in the aid of the
one as the handmaid or auxiliary of the other. Suppose, for example,
he is formally engaged in intellectual work — in cultivating any one of
the intellectual faculties, or a class or a number of them, ho is there
and then to bring to bear on this work the other distinctive parts of
the childrens' nature. They are, apparently, listless and indifterent in
the work in which they are engaged. Instead of prosecuting their
stud'es with diligence and perseverance, they are literally idling away
their time — becoming increasingly restless, and abounding in pranks
and frolics. In five cases out of six, the teacher, ascribing this conduct
to pure mental indifference, or listlessness, or moral oblicpiity, com-
mences to scold and threaten — to dragoon and flagellate. But instead
of this working any improvement, they are getting gradually worse.
The cause, instead of being removed, is daily becoming more aggravat-
ed. That cause is purely physical. It may be the class has been
made either to sit or stand too long, or to remain too long stationary
in one fixed posture ; or, it may be, they are now breathing a noxious
atmosphere, alike enfeebling to their mental energies and irritating to
the teacher. And what, iu these circumstances, ought to be done?

SCIENCE OF EnUCATIOy.

fill

A copious iii<^ros« of fresh, and an egress of impure air, or a ehaugo in
their position, shuuhl he eflectcd. Or the (uiu.se of the lassitu(hi may
ho ail over-tension of some of tlu) Intellectual powers ; and in that
case a season of relaxation should be ohserved, or another suhject
taken up — or, if the same subject must be -jon tinned, some rest should
be given ; and this may be done either by a march or by their singing
some favorite song. Or, it may Ite, the cause of tlitur listlessnesss and
inattention is moral obIi(iuity. They liave formi'd their plans, afid are
bent on mischief. In that case, the teacher shouhl at once ajjpeal to
their conscience, pointing out their responsibility for the use of the
gifts committed to them — the obligations laid upon them to use every
moment of time aright for their improvement. And he has still ano-
ther resort. Failing in one or other of these, he may appeal to uie
emotional part of tbeir luiture. They have doting parents — anxious
fathers and tender mothers — toiling for their benefit, and sacrificing
their own personal comfort to enable them to give their children a
respectable education. And how ungrateful, how unnatural, in these
circumstances, to squander away their precious opportunities — to
waste their time on triiles ! This may stimulate to diligence when
everything else fails. And so in the cultivation of the moral faculty
or the lesthetical ; the teacher must avail himself of the connection
subsisting between that part of our nvntal constitution ; and the other
parts as well as of the body; and use these as auxiliaries or as stim-
ulants, and thereby increase the sensibility and the power of con-
science. AVhatever, in short, is the part of our being that is, for the
time, under training, the teacher should endeavour, at all times and in
all circumstances, to avail himself of the reci{)rocating dependence of
all the ingredients of our compound nature, and call in the one as
the handmaid of the others ; in other words, he is to operate on the
one through tJio medium of the others, according to the strength of
the bond of connection. This is a matter of paramount importance,
and claims from every painstaking and faithful teacher the most pro-
found and serious consideration.

• *!

RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER,
In this chapter we have elaborated, first the characteristic itself,
and then the adaptation process. Under the former, we have mainly
dwelt on the influence of the body, when diseased, on our mental con-
dition. This is beautifully and comprehensively set forth by Dr.
Abercrombie, from whose Treatise on the Intellectual Powers we have

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made some extracts. It is interesting to trace the gradation of mental
aberration, increasing in severity, as the bodily disease becomes more
aggravated, proving to a demonstration the reality of the connection
in question. Phe re-acting jiower of the various parts is equally
remarkable, and shows still more clearly the intimate relation and the
reciprocal dependence of these parts. It will be observed that we
have taken our examples principally from the adult or the more
mature in years. We have done so, just because they come, in such
cases, more frequently within the range of our observation.

The same relations and dependencies are as marked and palpable
with the young. These influences and tendencies should be all
weighed and studied by teachers, not in their general manifestation
merely, but in individual cases, in order that special means may be
resorted to. It is in this way that that cord of the heart is discovered
and taken hold of, by which the skilful teacher may move, and control,
and subdue the most rebellious f. nd headstrong.

This acting and re-acting naturally originate a twofold process of
adaptation, exercising the various ingredients individually and simul-
taneously. About the iii'st, there is no dispute or difficulty. AH
know that the various ingredients of our composite nature are alone
preserved in b.alth and strength by exercise, and hence the readiness
of all parties concerned to make provision for the same in the alloca-
tion of time for recesses — in the various games for which the play-
ground is adapted — in the regular gymnastic and calisthenic exercises
— ^n?ilitary drill, &c., as well as in the various mental, and moral, and
religious studies and pursuits. All these exercises, it is at once
admitted, strengthen the particular parts. But the adaptation to the
other branch, the reciprocating or re-acting is neither so palpable, nor
yet so generally provided for. That the mind affects the body, as
well as tiie body the mind, is at once acquiesced in ; but how to take
hold of this, and make it minister to the 'educational force, is the grand
point in this characteristic. And yet this is one of the most signal
triumphs of Stow, blending the physical, the intellectual and moral all
in one, and rendering them all instrumental to the better accomplish-
ment of the object contemplated, both directly and indirectly. After
all, what is this, but treating the child as he is, and in adaptation to
the nature with which he is endowed. Comcenius and Pestalozzi saw
this, and carried it a certain length. But the adaptations and impulses
of nature were too enchanting to them ; here they laid themselves down
— they fed and revelled on these green pastures. They saw not, they
felt not, the religious ai ^ "^^ral want* of the young., as they did the

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matural ; and that Book which can alone meet and satisfy these wants,
they heeded not, or at least assigned to it only a subordinate rank.
Stow seized the moral as well as the natural adaptation, and thereby
wove for his brow a chaplet of unfading laurel — spread around liis
system a halo as dazzling as the sun, and as imperishable as the foun-
tain whence it sprang.

CHAPTER IV.

TinRD CHARACTERISTIC.

Great diversitt op Mentai. Endowment akd Temperament in the
Young. The adaptation here is the presentation of a variety

OF SUBJECTS, PRINCIPALLY THROUGH THE MEDIUM OF OrAL LeSSONS.

Diversity of Endowment, — in intellect, feeling and conscience.
Adaptation, — great variety of subjects, as widely different
AS POSSIBLE. Accomplished mainly by means of Oral Lessons. —
More done here by the mode of presentation than by the sub-
ject itself. Answers given both simultaneously and individu-
ally. Mode by which the peculiarity or idiosyncrasy of one
may contribute to the benefit of all, viz., inverting the right
answer into the form op a question, and throwing it back upon
THE CLASS. Moral effect of this pr/ctice.

Diversity of Endowment. It is sometimes said that the facul-
ties of the mind are as diversified as the features of the human
countenance. Whether this be so or not, it is undoubtedly true
that this diversity is immense, whether we look at mind in its
broad features or in its more minute details. In some, the intellect
is most conspicuously developed, — in others, the sensibilities, and
in others, the will ; and if we go into particulars, the same diversity
of phase will manifest itself. In reference to the intellect, we see
one remarkable for the prominence of his observational powers —
another, of his abstractive, and another, of his imaginative. Among
the members of the same family, one is signalized for the suscepti-
bility — another, for the retentiveness, and another, for the prompt-
itude cf his memory ; and still more, one is remarkable for the remem-
bering of names and dates, — another, of facts, and another, of princi-
ples. The same diversity is apparent in the sensibilities of our
Mature. Some are excessively amiable, and others Irascible ; and,
between these extremes, every possible phase exists. Some possess
a large measure of order, neatness and arrangement in their plans and
©perations, and others are, as much as possible, in the opposite dire 'ion-

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Some, again, seem to possess great sensitiveness and tenderness of
conscience ; and otliers are blunt, and dull, and obtuse, as if seared'
with a hot iron. The feats and exploits of mind in every sphere and
walk of life, achieved by those who have occupied positions in every
way adverse to their development, towering above and beyond others
placed in far more advantageous circumstances, are all traceable to the
same source — the diversity in their natural mental calibre. Indeed,
so notorious is this diversity, and, according to the supposition of
some, so utterly beyond the power of the most skilful teacher to adapt
himself to it, so as to do justice to each child, that it is oftentimes
adduced as an insuperable argument against public education alto-
gether, and the most powerful, by consequence, in favour of jjrivate
tuition ; and we are free to admit, that, were the old-fashioned method
of recitation exercises, and of the genei'al conduct and management of
the school pursued, this objection would wear a sutRciently formidable
aspect. And what, it may then be asked, is to be done ? How is the
difficulty to be met ? And this brings us at ouce to the consideration
of the adaptation process.

Adaptation process. — Now, we have no hesitation in declaring our
decided conviction, that this choTacteristic — the diversity of natural
talent — is not only capable of being met, but of being rendered ser-
viceable to the benefit of all the class, or in a graded school, of the
whole department. This, however, requires no ordinary amount of
skill, tact and management on the p:iiL of the teacher, and the purf-u-
ance of a system very different from the old mechanical rote syst' m,
both in reference to the subjects taught and the method of their pre-
sentation. And the first thing we would notice, as being at thf bot-
tom of the whole of this adaptation process, is to bring befoi the
mind such a variety of subjects a.s will furnish ample pabuh m for
this diversity of endowment. By this is not to be understood a
long list of subjects, as branches of education, such as sometimes
appears in advertisements of scholastic establishments, but a judicious
selection of subjects in Literature, Science and Philosophy, — such a
selection, in fact, as shall call into play powers and sensibilities as far
removed as possible from each other. But these branches of study
will require to bo largely supplemented by means of oral lessons, iu
whatever way carried on. whether by the real objects or theii* repre-
sentatives, or woi-d painting. These lessons, both in their substance
and in their mode of communicating, must be in accordance with the
age, or advancement, or habits, or circumstances of the pupils. By
tliis means, atribate may be levied on the whole domain of matter and

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

215

of mind. The analogies may be selected in moetest adaptation to the
views and tastes of the great majority of the pupils ; and this not in
physical and intellectual education only, but also in aesthetical and
moral. Aye, and the peculiarities of each of the different classes of
individuals can be rendered eminently serviceable to the improvement
and benefit of the whole.

But the adaptation process to this feature depends as much, if not
more, on the method in which the subject is presented to the minds of
the young, as on the subject itself. This does not consist in the
teacher proposing a question, and then asking the individual at the
head of the class to answer it, and, if he cannot, putting it to the next,
and thus going the round of the whole class, till the bottom is
reached ; or, in first naming an individual, whatever position he may
hold in the class, and then putting the question. It consists in his
(the teacher's) first throwing out the question to the whole class
or gallery, and inviting them to answer it as soon as they have
good ground to believe they are capable of doing so. This is the
simultaneous method, which, is greatly aided by the sym2)athy of num-
bers. The other, or the individual method, is to make some sign, and
wait a due time, according to the nature of the question and the con-
dition or stage of advancement of the class, till all — the smart and the
dull, the clear and the misty, the talented and stupid minds — have had
an opportunity of doing their best ; then name the person, according
to his number, who is to answer the question, and, if wrong, show him
that he is so ; then ask another, and another, until the right answer
is obtained or worked out. As soon as the teacher is satisfied with
the answer, it should be turned into the shape of a question, and
thrown back on the class, and satisfactory evidence given that every
one in the class has received it. And now need we show how all
this operates ? We shall suppose that the question put, involves a
considerable amount of cool, calculating power, and that the great
majority in ihe school are puzzled and confounded, with the exception
of one little, retiring, modest youth. He, and he alone, apprehends
and grasps the whole question. lie is not reckoned a smart, or clever,
but a calmly reflective boy. lie is also a retiring, difFident youth ;
and had the question come down to him from the top of the class, or
been put to him directly, he would, in all probability, have become
so excited, that he would not have done justice to himself, and failed.
From the way in which it is put, however, he has full command of his
powers and attainments, and deliberately arrives at the right answer.
He gives it forth correctly, both in matter and form, and is thus, for

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the time being, dux of the class, or, iu a graded school, of the whole
department. Again, by the teacher's throwing back the answer in
the shape of a question to the class, the whole get the benefit of this
bey's peculiarity or phase of mind, both in information and intellectual
power. And this elicits an important principle, viz., that the more
numerous the class, if properly graded, the more exciting, stimulating,
and efficient the teaching. In a numerously attended school, there is
a greater likelihood, even of the same grade, of having a larger
variety of mental shade or hue ; so that an answer is secured to almost
every question, there being scarcely one asked that is not, more
or less, congenial to some one mind or another. The average stand-
ard of talent is kept alive by the reception of questions within the
reach of the qualifications of a great majority of the class ; whilst,
every now and again, a mind of peculiar calibre is operated upon by a
question in exact adaptation to his liking, or tendency, or bent. And
the same method operates most beneficially in a moral point of view.
"We have already supposed the question to be of such a character as
to call forth the exercise of the abstractive or calculating power, met
and answered by the modest, retiring boy. The very next question
may be more congenial or suitable to the observational powers, when
another boy at once steps forward and gives the correct reply with
the utmost facility ; and he, it may be, one of the boys that looked
with perfect amazement at him who answered the previous quesuon,
so completely was it beyond his comprehension. He has now, how-
ever, got a question in complete adaptation to his tastes and capabili-
ties ; he replies without any hesitation ; whilst the previously success-
ful boy is non-plussed and astonished that any one should be at all
competent to give an answer. He thus feels his own inferiority, and
the last mentioned youth, distinguished for his observational powers,
obtains the pre-eminence, whilst those who were foremost in other
questions, and who had the palm readily conceded to them, are made
to feel their own level, and denuded, to a certain extent at least, of
their self-complacency and self-importance. The moral effect of this
method is thus admirable — in every way fitted, instrumentally, to
beget and keep alive a spirit of true humility — the first lesson in all
genuine progress.

The diversity existing in the aisthetical and emotional departments
•of our nature, is met by a similar arrangement, and is equally service-
able for the benefit of the whole.

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

217

RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.

There is no need, here, of expatiation on the characteristic itself.
There are few points more palpable or more universally admitted.
IIosv strikingly does this phenomenon conti'ibute to the utility, the
beauty and the happiness of all ! What a testimony does it lift to the
glory of the All-wise Creator ! How contented, then, should all be
with this arrangement, and how diligently should bach improve the
talents committed to him, whether in the kingdom of nature or of
grace, remembering that he that hath, to him shall be given.

The adaptation process here is triumphant, not so much by the
nature of the subject or branch of education, as by the mode in which
it is presented to the class. Of all arguments in favour of private
education, the diversity of endowments is, perhaps, the most plausible.
If this diversity is so great in the case of six, or eight, or ten of a
famil)"^, — if, in every one, we have a distinct phase of intellect — of feel-
ing — of conscience, and if the province of education is to develop the
powers or energies of each, respectively, who will pretend to say that
he could overtake the development of more. The very discovery of
the minute shades of difference in each case, is, of itself, a study, and
if so, what must be the difficulty in the appliance of suitable means for
the development of each! But what tends largely to obviate the
difficulty in question is, that these eight or ten individuals ought to be
viewed as types or representatives, and that the addition of as many
more might bo all classified under the same ten heads or classes ; nay
more, not only will the difficulty be thus surmounted, but the expe-
dient propounded will minister to the benefit of the whole. But the
principal charm of this expedient is its tendency to promote a spirit
of genuine humility and modesty even amongst the most talented and
promising ; whilst it is, at the same time, admirably fitted to stimulate
the mental powers of all.

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CHAPTER V.

FOURTH CHARACTERISTIC.

Different epochs op Intellectual Development in the young. The
adaptation to this featuiie, imparting branches of knowledge,

the best suited TO THESE SEVERAL EPOCHS. MEANING OF CHARAC-
TERISTIC. Order of the epochs. Reason assigned for their

MANIFESTATION. — ADAPTATION TO IST EPOCH, FROM 3 — 8 YEARS, PER-
CEPTION. Word to Mothers. First business at school. Attain-
ments AT eight. — Second epoch, 8 — 12. Representative. Memory
and Imagination. Branches best adapted. — Third epoch, 12 and
UPWARDS. Generalization and Reasoning. Branches most suit-
able.

Meaning of this characteristic. By this characteristic, it is meant
that there are certain periods in the history of the rising generation,
when some of our intellectual powers are more fully developed, and,
consequently, more matured than others. The powers of the mind
have already been compared to the leaves of the bud of a tree ; and
that just as some of these leaves are evolved at an earlier period than
others, so is it with the powers of the mind. The order in which this
expansion takes place, is pretty distinctly intimated by the classifica-
tion of the intellectual faculties. The earliest in their development is
the presentative class, or that class which requires the objects which
awaken them to be brought into direct and immediate contact with
their respective senses ; and which, in consequence, are approiiriately
denominated sense-perception, and in immediate connection, or con-
temporaneous therewith, is the conception of the external object.
The next in order of development is the representative, embracing
the faculties of memory and imagination ; and last, by the reflective,
or the faculties of abstraction and reasoning, or the two mental pro-
cesses of synthesis and analysis. This is the order in which the men-
tal faculties may be said to develop themselves ; not that it is meant
that while one of these faculties is in a state of maturity, or in full,
vigorous exercise, the others are in entire abeyance, or lying in dor-
mant inactivity. All that is meant is, that, whilst, for example, the
first is in liveliest exercise — in fullest manifestation, the others ara
but in progress, and are only capable of comparatively feeble effort.

Reason assigned. And why, it may be asked, is all this the case ?
Wliy are some powers more fully developed at one time than at ano-
ther ? In reply to this question, it were, perhaps, quite sufilcient to

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SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

219

gay that one set of these powers is more used at one time tlian at
another, and being so, according to a universal law both in tlie organs^
of tlie body and the faculties of the mind, ^hey grow more rapidly, and
come sooner to maturity. But this only shifts the question a stage
farther back, so that it again recurs, why are we dependent on one
class more at one time than at another ? The answer to this question
unfolds the whole rationale of this arrangement. It arises from the
very law of our being — from the very necessities of our constitution.
The human mind, it would seem, is little else than a blank, till brought
iu contact with the external world. This it does throujih the medium
of the senses, and, therefore, it is right and proper that we should
place dependence on our senses, which very reliance strengthens and
develops, and brings them first to perfection. But our senses are
compai'atively limited in their range. The knowledge we can amass
by means of our own observation, is, in consecjuence, small. And
how are we to add thereto ? In no other way, that we know of, than
availing ourselves of the observational powers of our fellow creatures,
which, if duly authenticated, are perfectly reliable. And the stores of
knowledge, thus accumulated, are altogether indispensable, to enable
us to generalize and to reason, or to exercise the higher powers of tue
intellect, and thus, from the concrete, to pass into the region of the
abstract, and thereby to luxuriate, as it were, in the region of the invisi-
ble — to hold converse with the infinite ; and from the materials we
already possess, to pass on to the acquisition of other and original
knowledge. There is thus in this characteristic nought but the fol-
lowing out of the law of our .being; and in that law we behold the
most manifest proofs of divine wisdom and goodness. Man's mental
constitution is susceptible of cognitions, or capable of receiving infor-
mation ; it is also capable of tracing the relations of the various objects
falling under the cognitive — of analyzing their properties, and of form-
ing combinations, — aye, and more still, from the knowledge already
ac(pured, of proceeding to the acquisition of what is new and original.
But in order to fit and qualify the mind for these higher functions,
there must be a certain store of facts or truths deposited in the mind,
which must either be derived from the observation of the parties
themselves, or that of others. How wise, then, and beneficent the
arrangement, by which the necessity is imposed upon us, from our most
juvenile years, to lay up, as in a storehouse, those facts, for future use
or service ! And how imperative the lesson thus taught us, to adapt
ourselves in the educational work to this admirable arrangement of
things, to teach the branches more peculiarly belonging to each epoch,

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not exclusively but chiefly, to rise in consecutive order, according to
the intellectual development !

Adaptation Process. As already mentioned, the first faculties
matured are the perceptive, or the knowledge we get through the
medium of the senses. And the question here clearly is. What is
the material to be presented to these various organs ? and how is it
to be presented, that the conception or idea in the mind may be vivid
and impressive? These two questions are of transcendent import-
ance, affecting, as they do, the whole future of the child, demanding
the earliest, the paramount attention both of parent and teacher.

Word to Mothers. AlthonHi to some it may seem a digression, we
cannot allow the opportunity to pass of tendering a word of counsel
to parents, and especially to mothers. And we would urge upon their
attention, the serious responsibility devolving upon them, so soon as
the observational powers of their offspring come into play, to jirovide
the objects suitable thereto. There does not appear to be any fixed
period in the infancy of the human species for those powers coming into
operation. In some infants of remarkable precocity, their observation
poT'crs are, to a certain extent, at work before they pass the third
month ; but, generally speaking, all children begin to notice before
the end of the first year of their existence ; and even then, mothers
should commence the work of presenting suitable objects to the senses
both of seeing and hearing. Though it were absurd to talk of any-
thing, at this stage being done in the way of formal teaching, mothers
should ike care, that the tunes of nursery rhymes or lullabies are
properly sung or chanted in their hearing, and also that the objects
presented to the organ of sight are such as attract — fitted to excite
lively emotion, and to form a vivid impression on the conceptive
faculty. So far as it may be proper, everything at this stage should
be done to exercise the other senses. A strong disposition is mani-
fested, even a*, thi'i early period, to bring every object within their
reach to the test of all the senses, and especially to that of touch.
Let this desire be gratified, as far as practicable. After the child has
passed his second year, something more pointed and formal may
be effected. It is now time to present objects — to call attention to
the more prominent features of the same, with the pertinent name,
care being taken always to give the reality first, and afterwards the
sign or name. A greater variety in the music may be also now
administered. At three and four years of age, the children may be
pushed forward, bringing to their notice more minute objects, with their
appropriate names, and encouraging them to sing or chant simple

m :!' "

SCIENCE OF EDUCATIOIT.

221

melodies. Here, too, may the children be encouraged to repeat short
stanzas, without being imposed in the shape of a task. Here a grand
desideratum is awanting — a kind of vade vecum — for parents, by which
they might be guided in reference to the nature of the objects to be
pre<<ented to their offspring, and the best mode of doing so, from the
very commencement of their noticing powers, till they are five years
of age, at least. This guide, to be complete, should also embrace the
whole subject of physical and moral, as well as intellectual education.
Parents are but little aware of the awful responsibility resting upon
them in both these respects. Physically and moriUly, everything
depends on the right starting — perhaps even more than in the intel-
lectual department. Much, very much, depends on food, air, exer-
cise, and cleanliness ; if these are all properly attended to for the
Hrst five years, the effects will be apparent thi-oughout the whole
future career of the individual. It is of essential moment, too, that
there is a right commencement made in the moral department. Firm-
ness and decidcdness, at the outset, even though it may impose a cer-
tain amount of self-denial on the parents, will save much labour,
anxiety, and correction afterwards. This is the easiest course for the
parents, and it is infinitely better for the children. What a boon
would be conferred on any nation, were the mothers thereof properly
instructed and rightly directed in this matter ! It would lighten
amazingly the toil of the schoolmaster, and make the groove of
character so deep and indelible that no time or circumstances would
obliterate. But we must return.

The children have now reached their fifth or sixth year, and are in
attendance at school. And the question here presents itself. What is
the first school business, or what, at the outset of the childrens' school
career, should occupy the main share of their attention ? We unhesi-
tatingly reply, that if the previous training has been, in the main,
good, the school-life should be, at the outset, and, as far as practicable,
a continuation of the domestic life. The sudden transition that is
oftentimes made in passing from the home to the school-life, by chain-
ing the little children to the same fixed posture for hours — by requir-
ing them to look the whole day at a few dead signs or marks, called
letters of alphabet, and by the teacher, with the view of maintaining
his authority, standing aloof from I. :: pupils in starched, assumed dig-
nity, and when he does condescend to speak, doing so in high, magis-
terial tones — ^in the most forbidding and distant term. Such a transi-
tion, we say, is injurious in the extreme — fitted to create and foster in
the minds of the young a loathing disgust in reference to all school

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affairs, and to look on the teacher more with fear and trembling than
with confidence and affection. Tlie first aim of the successful teacher
should he to inspire his pupils with a liking for the school — for all its
operations — its exercises and amusements ; and for this purpose, he
should endeavour to make them feel, with a slight restraint, that they
are still at home, in a congenial ntmosphere, and surrounded with
many enjoyable cbjects. The greater portion of their time, for the
first few weeks, should be spent in short exercises, adapted to the
culture of the various senses, and especially those of touch, hearing,
and seeing. Every child should be provided with a small slate,
sponge and pencil, and should begin with tiie drawing of straight
lines, the teacher showing the example on black-board, after a full
description of the reality. When, after a few weeks, the alphabet is
commenced, it should be by taking two or three letters daily, and
before the new ones are introduced going back to the first ; and these
should be taught after the phonic fashion, the mechanical process
amusing the children. ]\Iore formal object lessons, consecutively
arranged, should be gradually introduced, and the utmost care taken
to give the correct name to every part. Every branch of study should
be first brought before the mind concretely and analytically, and,
through the visible object, pass to its natural representation or pic-
ture ; then to the artificial or conventional ; and last of all, to tlie
abstract. The music should, as much as possible, be accompanied with
sound, wholesome truth, which will be so much more easily committed
to memory when married to some sweet, cheerful, and agreeable air.
It matters little as to the number of branches taught, provided they
are taught after the above fashion. Analysis of objects or things,
with appropriate and accurately acquired nomenclature, must form
the staple article of this epoch.

Attainments at eight. At eight years of age, with ordinary atten-
tion, the average attainments of the young will be such, as that they
shall be cap'^ble of reading and spelling any common book — of giving
the names of the difl'erent classes of words, and of the difTerent clauses
of a simple sentence, with the various pauses — of presenting the lead-
ing features in the Geograghy and History of their native country,
with the general principles involved — of working the fundamental
rules in arithmetic, both by slate and mentally, with a ready and
prompt recollection of the tables of money, weight and measure, and
of drawing any form from nature, and of printing, and of writing an
intermediate hand, with some knowledge of colours. And besides all
these regular brauciies, having a fair knowledge of the various objects

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

223

around, both in nature and art, with tho pursuits and employments
that may prevail in the locality. And with this measure of attain-
ment, tliey are in a fair condition of preparedness to enter upon the
more special business of the second epoch.

Second Epoch — the representative. This is appropriately designated
the representative epoch, or the epoch when the memory and the
imagination are largely developed, and most susceptible of impressions,
covering a period of four or five years, i. e. from 8 to 12 or 13. This
is the memory period, or that period when this power of the mind is
both most capable of culture and most retentive — when there is the
least trouble in committing anything to memory, and when, if tho-
roughly mandated, it seems to pi'oduco the most lasting impression.
Tliis has been already discussed under the head of intellectiuvl educa-
tion, so that there is no need of enlargement here. There cannot be
:i doubt that this is the period when the memory is freshest and
greenest, especially in the remembering of words, or facts, or dates.
And if this power is early in reaching its maturity, it is equally so in
showing symptoms of decrepitude and decay. But what is very
remarkable here, and corroborates more than anything else the sound-
ness of our position, is the circumstance, that, though in advanced
years, we may not be able to recal what happened comparatively
recently, it is quite otherwise in reference to what occurred in our
own juvenile years. Everything for the last ten or twenty years may
he obliterated, but what transpired or was committed to memory dur-
ing the epoch under consideration, no time or circumstances seem capa-
ble of effacing.

Branches adapted. What, is it now asked, are the branches best
adapted for this epoch ? Everything, we reply, that requires the sheer
exercise of the memory. And all here will naturally direct their
thoughts to Language. There is no branch of study demanding a
purer exercise of this faculty than language in all its shapes and forms.
The skilful and painstaking teacher may do much to simplify what is
intricate — to reduce the theoretical to the practical, and thereby to
invest it with tenfold greater interest ; but no process of simplification
— no system, hovrever novel or improved, can do away with the
drudgeries of memory in the acquisition of language, and especially
any foreign language, ancient or modern. And it is worthy of notice
here, that, during no other epoch in our history, does language take a
firmer hold of this faculty. There have, no doubt, been a few distin-
guished linguists who did not commence a foreign language till long
after the period referred to, but these are the exceptions. And the

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reason seems to be that we depend \jpon our reflective powers as well
as on our memory in the getting of hmguages afterwards. Ask nine
out of every ten individuals what language was most easily remenj-
bered, and most available to them, when they reached their 4Uth year,
and, to a man, they will reply, the one accjuired during this epoch, or
before they had passed far into their teens.

To avail ourselves, then, of this capability, the first tiling, we appre-
hend to be done, is to make the young familiar with the vocables of
their vernacular tongue as the instrument of thought and as the
record of the myriad elements of consciousness. This process has
I in going on under the foruKsr epoch in reference to what is visible,
tangible, audible, sapid or odoriferous. As one of the greatest benefits
of object lessons, we have specified a perfect analysis as far as the
stage conducts, and to every part assigned the most precise and accu-
rate sign in the shape of vocables, whether these express analysis, or
subject, or the quality of either, or the action of the subject. A much
greater share of attention must now be givon by the young to the
whole sul>ject of their native tongue — the source — the structure — the
inflection — the derivation of its words — the root, prefix and affix — its
compounds. «S;c. The grammar of the language should be studied at
this stage. By means of oral lessons, attention has already been called
to this subject, analytically ; but it must now be studied synthetically,
or as a science, and from a regular text-book. All the niceties and
peculiarities of etymology — all appertaining to the construction of
sentences or grammatical analysis, and to their arrangement or rales
of syntax, should be attended to. Now is the time for the grammars
of ancient and modern ' "'^ges, if these are to be acquired, especially
the purely memorit'^ .s of them. The philosoi^hy of language

may be deferrc^ tjr period, but not the elements or those por-

tions requiring j accurately committed to memory. Of course,

much of the practice, either writing or speaking of the languages
learned, should go along with the mandating work. At no epoch can
languages be acquired, so as to be spoken correctly with such facility,
as now, and this without at all destroying the peculiar pronunciation of
each. Children have been known to learn five languages at once
during this epoch, and to talk them fluently, without any confusion
or much apparent difficulty. The children of the pioneer India mis-
sionary, Carey, acquired a command of the ITindostanee vocables long
before the fether, distinguished linguist though he was, and master of
the grammar before he set foot on the shores of Bengal.

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SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

225

storin;;j up of facts, dates, &c., iu Geography aud History, as regular
brunches of education, and the technical terms commonly used in the
sciences, presented in the form of oral lessons. During this period,
the outlines of natural science might be surveyed with great and bene-
ficial results.

But this, too, is the period when the imaginative power is in liveliest
and most vigorous exercise, and most susce])tible of foreign influences.
The act of the imagination supposes that some analysis has taken
place. It may not bo the analysis of the qualities of objects, but
of the parts of objects. Ai^ if the mind is specially given to this
work about this period, so is it in the combination of parts into a whole,
in the formation of new creations. This, accordingly, is the time
when the young are fondest of listening to stories — to romantic and
imaginative tales — to the perusal of legends, of novels, &c. Some
are, of course, more under the influence of this principle than otlK'rs ;
but now, if ever, is the epoch of its most powerful impulses. Don
Quixotte, Robinson Crusoe, Pilgrim's Progress, &c., are the staple
delights of the young at this period. This, too, accordingly, is the time
when figurative language or analogical illustration of every sort is
most attractive and enchanting, and when the young are most readily
and delightingly conducted from the region of the known to the
unknown — from the natural to the figurative.

And what is the food most congenial to this power — best fitted to
satisfy and gratify ? It is to present to it the most graphic delinea-
tions of great and important scenes or events — to encourage the study
of poetry, and especially of epic poetry — the perusal of the best and
most manly novel writers ; or, if they manifest anything like a taste
for form, to examine and study the different pieces of sculpture per-
formed by the first masters ; or, of colours, to direct their attention to
the finest specimens of painting, &c.

But this is not enough. At this period, their attention should be
directed to the beautiful and sublime iu the works of nature around.
It does not matter whether these views are microscopic or telescopic,
provided the young are brought to look on them as they actually came
from the hands of the All-wise Architect and Painter. It is well, too,
at this stage, to require them to delineate these scenes practically,
eitlier in words, or models, or painting. This is the time when they
will evince whether they possess the gift of reducing to embodiment
the ideal, whatever bent their taste may take ; and in this, the yoang
should be encouraged in every possible way. If there should not be
among them geniuses in poetry, or architecture, or painting, scores
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may arrive at that proficiency vvliich will prove of immense benefit to
their fellow creatures, as well as to themselves. At all events, such
pursuits or employments being encouraged, as far as it is consistent
with their other duties, will exert a powerful tendency in elevating the
whole refinement of the generation.

3rd Epoch — Generalization and lieasoninff. The third and last
epoch of mental development is the reflective or the discursive, embrac-
ing several faculties, but all u? ly comprehended under generaliza-
tion and reasoning. The mind is now sufficiently stored with facts and
rules — now fully developed for the higher exercises of synthesis and
analysis.

And what, it may now be asked, are the subjects best adapted to
this last and most exalted of all mental effijrt in our school days, from
12 or 13, and upwards?

In so far as the synthetic or generalization process is concerned, we
would unhesitatingly recommend the propriety of beginning with
grammar. This, as has often been stated, is the science of language.
Language, concretely regarded, has been presented to the young in
all its aspects during the preceding epochs. They are now then fully
prepared to consider it in its synthetic form — in all its principles — in
all its philosophical and scientific bearings — in all its arrangements and
classifications. It were well that grammar, synthetically regarded,
were always reserved till this epoch. Then, instead of the unmeaning
jargon, it so often assumes, it would be found to be both a delightful
and profitable branch of study. Then, too, will the thoughts of the
mind be not only more vivid and expressive, but the mind itself be
cultivated and disciplined. Another branch, well fitted to exercise and
strengthen the synthetic power, is geography in its highest general-
izations. What could furnish finer illustrations of this principle than
the mountain systems of continents or of the world, or the river sys-
tems, or river basins. Arithmetic, in its more advanced stages, too,
is admirably calculated to show the principle of proportion in its appli-
cation to some half dozen or more distinct commercial, arithmetical
rules.

Algebra is still better than arithmetic, and should receive much atten-
tion at this stage in its higher departments — quadratic equations- &c.
Natural science in one or more of its branches, should also be here
encouraged. Many facts connected therewith are already stored up in
the understanding and memory of the young. Now it should be
studied in its classifications. In the inorganic kingdom, what more
beautiful generalization than that of the law of attraction from chem-

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

227

ical affinity up to its graud consummation iu that of gravitation. And
so is it in tlic organic or biological department. This great principle
of life can he here illustrated, not in theory or abstractly merely, but
in actual existence, befox'e the eye and other senses.

Reasouing power. But there is another exercise of the mind closely
allied to this, — we refer, of coarse, to the analytical process, or going
ou from generals to particulars. In its highest exercises, this involves
the reasoning power, which, in some respects, argues a more matured
or developed mind than the preceding, being founded on the principle,
that whatever is affirmed of the whole of the class, may also be affirm-
ed of every individual of that class.

Perhaps, upon the whole, the branch of learning most congenial to
the exercise of this power, is mathematics, especially that department
that has to do with magnitude or geometry, both theoreti'^al and prac-
tical. Some of the most distinguished philosophers have questioned
the utility of geometry, as a discipliner of the mind. This, in all pro-
bability, has arisen from the way in which geometry is too frequently
taught, without any al usion or reference to the relation subsisting
between the different propositions, and still more, between the merely
theoretical and practical. When geometry, both plane and spheri-
ical, is thoroughly taught, we can hardly conceive any exercise better
fitted to strengthen the power of ratiocination. The elements of phys-
ical science might be also prosecuted with great advantage daring
this period. How admirably fitted are the laws of mechanics — of
statics and dynamics- -of optics, astronomy, and such like, both in their
mathematical and experimental bearings, to give employment to the
reasoning faculties !

Logic, too, with the laws of mind on which this science rests, may
be also prosecuted here with great benefit to the strengthening of this
noble power. Indeed, the whole department of psychology might be
here introduced, and the mind advantageously exercised thereon.
This is, perhaps, the field for the highest exercise of the reasoning
faculty, and will require much training before the mind steadily and
earnestly investigate tho phenomena of its own consciousness. But
industry and perseverance will conquer, and what a victory !

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RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.

Here we pursue the same course ; first, explaining and illustrating
the characteristic itself, and then the adaptation process, or the means
to be employed, educationally, by which the great purpose of its exist-

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ence may be served. There may, and there does exist considerable
diversity of opinion as to the exact periods of these epochs — the num-
ber of years that should be allotted to each, and the branches of educa-
tion best fitted ; but as to the feature itself, and the necessity of adapt-
ing ourselves thereto in educational matters in some one shape or
another, no one seems to entertain the slightest dubiety. Our decided
conviction is, that considerable latitude of view ought to be allowed
here, and that in consequence of various contingt. '^.cies, arising both
from external and internal causes, over which we have no control.
No one, for example, denies that climate affects, and that most exten-
sively, the physical organization, and, by consequence, the mental.
This, perhaps, will produce between the young of Nova Scotia and
Scotia Antiqua, the difference of a year i'^ point of advancement of
intellect, so that if the latter commence neir school-life at six, the
former should at five years of age, and so on continuously in all the
epochs specified.

But we need not dwell longer on this point. We would rather
bespeak the attention of our readers to the principle here so strikingly
and beautifully exhibited; — we refer, of course, to the law of grada-
tion. This law, as already stated, reigns universally in the works and
ways of Deity, alike in the world of matter and of mind. And what
resplendent lustre have the discoveries of geology shed upon this law !
How interesting and fascinating to trace back, through the intermin-
able links of the chain of organized existences from the creation of man
to the time when the first lichen was summoned into being. Surely
the infinitely-wise must regard this law with ineffable complacency and
satisfaction ! And no wonder, when it is considered, that through it
He exhibits to all orders of moral intelligences the glory of His perfec-
tions both in the world of nature and grace, and maintains the dignity
and honour of His jireserving, presiding agency. And more thau all,
that it is through this law He secures our co-operation in the fulfil-
ment of His purposes, and thereby enhances His own excellence,
whilst he adds, and adds inconceivably, to our blessedness.

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

CHAPTER VI.

229

FIFTH CHARACTERISTIC.

Great diversity of Attainment. Teaching by outlines, the adapta-
tion PROCESS HERE. ThE UNIVERSALITY AND ORIGIN OF THE EXIST-
ENCE OF THIS FEATURE. MEANING OF TEACHING BY OUTLINES. TwO
ILLUSTRATIONS TAKEN FROM TEACHING HiSTORY AND GRAMMAR. BbNE-
FITS OF THIS METHOD OF TEACHING.

TTie universality and origin of its existence. That this diversity in
the matter of attainment exists, no one, for a moment, questions. In
populous districts there may be well graded schools, and, in rural dis-
tricts thoroughly classified miscellaneous schools ; but, despite of all
our pains and faithfulness in classification, there still remains con-
siderable disparity. In the same class, with the children pretty
nearly of the same age, and with the same advantages in their pre-
vious school cour.se, there are scarcely two exactly alike, even in the
same branc'', and this all the more in different branches. This, of
course, arises primarily from the characteristic .ilready discussed — the
diversity of natural talent ; for, so long as this exists, it must, of neces-
sity, produce great diversity of attainment ; and even in cases where
the intellectual calibre may be nearly alike, there is oftentimes such a
diflPereuce in character and habit, that, by diligent application to study,
some are found far outstretching others.

Adaptation — Teaching hj outlines. And what is it to teach by
outlines? It is to take the leading, salient points of the subject
about to be studied, and, by every legitimate means, to get these
incorporated into the mental frame-vork of every member of the
class, if engaged ; and, thereafter, by three or four courses, to fill in
the details, according to circumstances, until the whole subject rises up
in full-shaped manifestation or complete maturity. Take the history
of England as an exemplification. To teach this subject by outlines,
is first to take the different periods, viz., the Roman, the Saxon, the
Norman, the Plantagenet, the Tudor, the Stuart and the Guelph, with
their dates ; then the reigning monarchs of each period, with the dates
of the beginning and end of their reign — their personal life and cha-
racter ; then the domestic, colonial and foreign policy of their reign —
the leading statesmen — warriors — authors — men of science, «fcc., and
for what they were famous ; and, lastly, the leading events, classi-
fying them as political, commercial, literary, scientific, religious. After

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such a series of outlines, clearly understood, aud thoroughly depositeti
ia the memory, the class is now in a befitting position to take up the
history, and read it, chapter by chapter. With what intense interest
is it read, and with what unerring certainty remembered ? Take Gram-
mar — systematic or synthetic Grammar — as a second illustration.
The three distinct classes of the science of language, viz., Orthography,
Etymology and Syntax, with an outline of the various topics embraced,
constitute the broadest or skeleton outline. The second stage is the
presentation of each of these branches by outline — all about orthogra-
phy, etymology aud syntax ; and then the third stage should complete
the whole, embracing the most minute points, with all the exceptions
and niceties. Not only should these branches be first taught after this
fashion, but on occasion of every review, which should be weekly or
fortnightly, the same course should be pursueil, dwelling more particu-
larly, and at greater length, on the point or points last said in detail.
It forms, too, an excellent and a powerfully stimulating exercise in a
miscellaneous school, when the various stages of progress in grammar,
or in any other branch of learning, are all grouped into one class once
a week or so, and especially on days of general review, and examined
in accordance with this plan — that is, the younger, or less advanced,,
answering the skeleton outlines, and the more advanced according to
their stage, filling in gradually the detail, until the whole is complete.
Indee<l, the whole of this outline method of teaching cannot be too
extensively practised or too frequently resorted to in a common school.
It forms an admirable expedient for arousing and stimulating the
mind in any one department, both of the more juvenile or the more
advanced. The law of nature proclaims aloud its oxcellenco. Look
at the little child, for the first time introduced into the museum.
What is it that first engages his attention, and absorbs his interest?
It is the more conspicuous objects and curiosities — such as the camel —
leopard, the elephant, and the whale, — all, in fact, whose sizi and
colour produce the most dazzling and the most stunning effect. On
occasion of his second visit, his mind is more occupied with the objects
of smaller dimensions, such as the lion, the tiger, the bear, and the
like. And so onwards, in every succeeding visit, he descends lower
and lower, till he arrives at the smallest and tiniest objects.

And so with the painter, in transferring the landscape to his can-
vass. His first effort is to draw the faintest outlines, and specially
the background. lie next fills in the more prominent and then the
more minute objects ; and, lastly, he proceeds to give stroke after stroke
— touch after touch — at one time to this part and at anotlipr to that, until

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

231

the whole is presented to his view in living embodiment — in complete
symmetry — in perfect beauty. And so is it with the sculptor and the
architect. These all carry on their operations by outlines, and this
simply because it is the law of nature. Why should not the teacher
avail himself of the same natural law ? The closer we imitate nature
in any of our operations, the more likely are we to approximate per-
fection.

Benefits of this mode. Accordingly, it will be found that, by the
adoption of this course, the teacher is enabled to give his pupils a far
more comprehensive view of the subject, than if he were to proceed in
regular detail from chapter to chapter. Not only will the scholars
obtain a more enlarged view of the subject, but they will see it in
all its relations and links of associations, and thus find it far more
easily remembered. The broadest outline being thorcii;.'i ly engraven
on the mind, will form a nucleus, around which all subordinate events
and all minor matters will cluster, and the ! i>7 of association will thus
come in as a help — as a handmaid to the memory. Contemplating the
subject, too, in all its various relations, will impart a more vivid appre-
hension and appreciation of its beauty — will invest it wnth far deeper
interest, and enable the young to render the knowledge thus acquired
far more available during the whole of their future career.

The first thing, then, that all ought to aim at in commencing any
new subject, or in the perusal of any new book, is thoroughly to mas-
ter its prominent features ; and, if the book is well arranged, these will
be found under the head of the contents. There could scarcely be a
more profitable employment than writing out our own views on the
subject, having, for our text, the contents of the book. Doing this
before we read a word of our author, would not only enable us to test
his powers and capabilities, but be of immense practical benefit to our-
selves.

RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.

This is one of the most valuable of all the adaptations. If there is
no feature so prominent as the one under consideration, so is there
none so suitably met by what are denominated outline lessons.. It is
in perfect accordance with the instincts of our being, as illustrated by
the child's visit to the museum, or by the conduct of the architect, the
painter, the sculptor, the carver. Not one of the professional men, or
of the amateurs of the fine arts, ever dreams of finishing the various
parts of his performance in detail. First, to pencil or chisel out the

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broad outlines, and then to proceed step by step, doing a little to each
part, till the whole is finished, and rises up in living reality, is the course
pursued by one and all. And so ought it to be with every branch of
education. By the pursuance of this plan, not only v/ill a more thor-
ough knowledge of any one subject be more easily acquired, but that
subject will be far more serviceable in its application in all time
coming. The leading, the salient points being incorporated into the
mental framework of the young, the law of association will, when
required, cause all the details to spring up and cluster around, and
thus whatever is acquired will prove of enduring benefit. Indeed, it
is our decided conviction, that were all the branches of education
taught after this fashion — were greater prominence given to the out-
lines and less to the details — were the former more thoroughly
woven into the mind of the rising generation, and the latter left for
after filling in and the work of self-education, it would tend largely to
the development of mind, and to the promotion of the higher interests
of the human race.

CHAPTER VII.

iii

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SIXTH CHARACTERISTIC.

The influence op the Sympathy of Numbers in the Schooe-room,
ani> the means best fitted to render this infeuence availabij;.
Meaning of feature, with illustrations. Means to be employed

TO GIVE this PRINCIPLE EVERY ADVANTAGE AND FORCE IN SCIIOOL-

KOOM : 1st. Thorough classification — specially graded schools.
2nd. Non-separation of the sexes. 3rd. Gallery, or elevated
seats and L!ESK8. 4tii. Enclosed play-ground.

Meaning of feature. The word sympathy, according to its derivation,
signifies suffering or feeling along with another — a fellow feeling — a
mental sensibility. It has its seat in our constitution as social beings,
and is one of the chief elements that cements man to man, and contrib-
utes largely to his happiness. It is of extensive application. Prima-
rily, it was used almost exclusively in reference to the sensibilities of
our nature, and specially to the feeling of sorrow ; but now it is used
in reference to all our states of mind, intellectual as well as emotional.
We talk of sympathy of views — of tastes — of feelings, both of melan-
choly and cheerfulness — of sorrow, and of joy. And this principle is
no less universal in its existence than it is influential in its operations.

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

233

Few, comparatively few, can resist its potency. Let the coldest and
most frigid in tlieir emotional frame be ushered into a company where
all is hilarity, and mirth, or laughter, — or let the hardest and most
stony-hearted be introduced into the apartment where sorrow is de-
picted on every countenance — where the deepest sighing and sobbing
prevail, and where every cheek is suffused with the burning and the
scorching tear ; and who, in these circumstances, can resist the impulses
of his being? But it is not the mere capability of syn.^ ..thizing with
others that this characteristic has to do ; it is the sympathy of num-
bers, or the additional power imparted to this principle by the concen-
tration and proximity of numbers. That great power is imparted to
this principle of numbers, must be apparent to every one who contrasts
the state of the inhabitants of a densely-peopled city with those of a
thinly settled, rural district, regarding any important question that may
bo agitating the public mind. In the latter, all is quietness and calm
tranquility ; the people do not seem at all driven out of their usual
latitude of action, or from their usual moderate routine of procedure,
lu the former, on the other hand, all seem to be in a state of
excitement — of enthusiasm — of frenzied fever, regarding the subject.
They can think of nothing else. They can speak of nothing else.
Their whole minds and energies are absorbed. The subject that has
produced this diversity of result is of the same value to the one as to
the other. But in the one case there are numbers, overflowing num-
bers, and these in close juxta-position, every day and every hour com-
ing in contact with one another, and exciting and stimulating one
another. Be the cause what it may, there is a marvellous power in
numbers, when these are in immediate contact with each other, both
physically and mentally. How palpably is this phenomenon presented
to us in politics — in religion, and indeed in all employments or pur-
suits, when men are collected for the furtherance of any one common
object! How often do we find them, when associated in any scheme or
operation, saying or doing what they would never dream of individu-
ally. Hence the bravery and magnanimity of soldiers when appeals
are made to their patriotic glory and fame. Hence, too, the carnage —
the havoc and desolation, created by a tumultuous crowd.

But we have said that to give due effect to this principle, the
people must not only be in great numbers but in closest proximity,
in place, age, &c. This is an indispensable requisite for the full
outflowiug of this principle. Let the most popular orator of the
day address a large audience on any stirring question, in a
Hall, where the people, however numerous, are considerably re-

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moved from one another, and he cannot, by dint of all his eloquence,
rouse their spirit, awaken their enthusiasm, or even interest them in
the subject. Let the same audience be gathered together into an
apartment where they are packed, closely together, where they are in
compact array, and where they can see each others faces and feel each
others movements ; and let the same individual address them, and how
different will be the effect ! Every one is roused to highest excite-
ment ; indeed so thoroughly have they all caught the spirit of the
speaker, that they are completely one with him. Look again at children
at play. Let four or so be engaged, two on the one side of the game and
two on the other, and how dull and cheerless the whole scene. Let,
on the contrary, some twenty enter the list, and let them bo well
classified in point of strength and capabilities for the game, and what
ardour, what struggling will be exhibited. In very proportion to the
number and to the equality of the match will be the conflicting oa
each side for the mastery. Now if this principle is so influential, so
omnipotent and so universal in the common affairs of life, at all ages
and under all circumstances, why should it not be laid under tribute iu
the education of the young ? Indeed it is the very power of this prin-
ciple that constitutes one of the strongest arguments in flivour of a
public education. In the family, there can be scarcely any play given
to it. It is in the public school, and in that alone, where a suitable
arena can be found for its full manifestation.

Means to be employed in education. And now the enquiry is, How
is this principle to obtain full justice in the public school. We reply,
first, thorough classification. In the game above referred to, we saw
that the violence and determination of the combat depended on two
things, first the number, and then the equality of the physical strength
and skill on each side. And as it is physicrdly, so is it intellectually,
and morally, and ajsthetically. There must be numbers, but there must
be something more. The scholars must be arranged in such a way as
will call forth, in the most complete manner, the working of this
principle.

It is here that the real worth, and excellence, and glory of classifica-
tion are manifested. And hence, when the population will admit of it,
the immense advantage which graded schools possess over miscel-
laneous, as they are, in contradistinction, designated. The first advan-
tage mainly appertains to the teacher and his relation to his scholars.
If all the scholars under the charge of one teacher are capabl*^. of being
placed into two sections, it puts the teacher on the highest vantage
ground in relation to his pupils. Being one-half of his time engaged

SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.

235

with the one section and the other half with the other, lie ha? every
opportunity of plying the miiuls of every individual with the subject
under consideration. Instead of being completely employed with tho
mere routine of recitation-exercises, — many of which are purely mecha-
nical, — and scarcely able to overtake the work, even in the most perfunc-
tory way, he has abundance of time to work and weave the whole
subject into the mental frame-work of his pupils, both by the use of
the text-book and by supplementary viva voce instruction. This were
education worthy of the name. And all this is vastly enhanced and
exalted when wo add to it the force of the principle under review,
the sympathy of numbers, where th 3 scholars are properly classified
and arranged. Perhaps as much, both intellectually and morally,
depends on the working of this very power as on anything else, the skill
and power of the teacher not excepted ; and yet it is comparatively little
known or regarded as an element of power in the school establishment.
And hence the small appreciation of the graded school, the utter
indifference of more than a half of the enlightened and educated
classes, whether the school is in accordance with this system, or
whether it is an old fashioned miscellaneous school. Did those who
profess to be interested in the cause of education but know one
tithe of the superiority of the graded to the miscellaneous school, that
as much work can be done in one week in the former as in two weeks
in the latter, and that with much greater effect, they would strain
every nerve and put forth every instrumentality to put the system into
operation wherever practicable. And all the more, because tho char-
acteristic under consideration is only fully met and illustrated in
graded schools.

Glassijication of Miscellaneous Schools. In a miscellaneous school,
that the sympathy of numbers may have full and free scope, the clas-
sification must be thorough. Everything here must be properly
adjusted — the classes neither too few nor too many — the criteria of
judgment not dependent on any adventitious circumstance, but on
sober, substantial realities, so that when the emulative principle comes
into operation, each competitor may feel that he has got an opponent
to confront and a prize to win.

Another arena for the display of this characteristic, is the non-sepa"
ration of the sexes, or attendance of boys and girls at the same school
till they reach the twelfth year of their age at least. This jjoint has
not received the attention it merits. Some regard the teaching of
boys and girls in the same apartment as a flagrant breach of all the
proprieties of civilized society. Others again treat the whole subject

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with passive indifference, or as a matter of no moment. We account
it of paramount importance for the mutual advantage of both
sexes. All admit the benign, the hallowing and ennobling influence
of the female character, when she holds the position in society to
which she is entitled. Not only does her presence restrain rudeness
and impropriety of every sort — it spreads around the fireside, the social
circle, and the public place of meeting, a grace and a charm all tlieir
own. Deprive man of the refining power of female society, and he
soon approaches to, if not actually sinks into, barbarism ; exclude the
female, and prevent her from association with the male, and equal, if
not more disastrous, will be the results. She will fall, both intellec-
tually and morally. And if such is the reciprocity of benefit that they
confer on each other respectively, surely the young of both sexes can-
not be brouglit too early together — they must derive the highest
benefit from being trained iu the same school.

But the benefits that flow to each sex from both boys and girls
being educated together, are marked and decided, evincing, in a way
that cannot be gainsaid, the power and glory of our principle. The
girls morally elevate the boys, and the boys intellectually elevate the
girls. But more than this, the girls themselves are morally elevated
by the presence of boys, and boys are intellectually elevated by the
presence of girls. The boys stimulate each other, intellectually, and
the girls, morally ; so that girls educated with boys are more positively
moral, and boys educated with girls are more positively intellectual,
than if they had attended separate schools — than if educated apart.
And all this by reason of the potency of our characteristic, provided,
of course, that both the boys and girls are thoroughly classified, and
the moral tone lofty and commanding.

Another instrument for giving force to this feature is the Gallery or
elevated benches. Contiguity in j^lace or proximity has been already
noticed .;s imparting vivacity and power to our principle. The
nearer, accordingly, the pupils are to one another and to the teacher,
the more distinctly they read iu each other's countenance the thoughts
and sentiments passing through the mind, the more unique will be
the sympathy, the more completely will one cord unite the scholars in
one adamantine bond. No external position or arrangement seems
more favourable for the production of this state of mind and feeling
than the gallery or elevated benches.

Another instrument not less powerful in the fostering of this princi-
ple and deriving from it the highest assistance, is the enclosed play-
ground. It is in the play-ground, as has been often said, where the

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SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

237

real clinracter of the scholars is dlsplayctl. So long as thoy remain in
the school, they are under restraint. When they are in the play-ground
however, they api)ear in their true character, and the teacher ohtains
more correct knowledge of their tempers, their dispositions, their
liahits, &c., than in any other way. Without any lording of his
authority, without anything in the shape of espionage, anything in
short save a vigilant superintendence, the teacher detects every phaso
of character, notes every peculiarity of mind, and perceives every
habit or disposition of temper. In the various games or employments
the sympathy of the scholars will be fully manifested, those of like age,
like views and like feelings, all grouping together for the furtherance
of the same object, all intent upon the same gratification. And this
gives immense power to the teacher, not only in the discovery of char-
acter but, afterwards, in the selection, adaptation and effect of his oral
lessons. Such knowledge could never be arrived at without an enclosed
pluy-ground.

RECAPITULATION OF CIIAPTER.

Sympathy is one of the finest and noblest of the emotions or instincts
of our being. Its direct design is to alleviate the sorrows incident to
this vale of tears, as well as to enhance and to elevate our joys. But
whilst this is the direct design, there are other benefits resulting from
its exercise, and one of these is the disposing of the mind to accom-
modate itself readily to the tastes, sentiments and views of those
with whom we have occasion to associate — a disposition this, augmented
and strengthened a hundredfold by external circumstances, and by
nothing more than the concentration and proximity of numbers. What
exploits, what feats of valor and magnanimity have not been achieved
by a number of kindred spirits in thick and confederated phalanx, all
animated by the same zeal, all goaded on by the same impulses, all
bent on the accomplishment of the same high purpose ! What would
these have been, had they been called to confront the enemy in a state
of division, or standing aloof? What but very cowards — miserable
fugitives or deserters. Keep them united, and they are bold as lions ;
they would face any enemy. What will a community not do either for
good or for evil, when leavened by the same principles, inflamed by the
same spirit, determined to accomplish the same ends, if they remain in
close and compact array ! Example, they tell us, is ...ore powerful
than precept, and so assuredly it is, but sympathy is mightier far than
both ; it sweeps all before it with one tremendous surge. If such be the

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power of this principle in all congregiitcd masses, why not give it fair
play in the scho(jl-room ? So reasoned Stow. He tested it both in his
Sabbath and week day school, fonnd it all ellicacious both intellectually
and morally ; and thereby placed a lever in the hand of the public
teacher more potent far than all his stores of learning — than all his
skill and experience in the art of imparting knowledge — than all his
tact in discipline jind government.

■VI

CHAPTER VIII.

SEVENTH CIIAKACTEUISTIC.
The iMPRESsnuLiTY of tub young. The apaptation to this feathhe is

A STEADY, CONTINUOUS AND WELL-REGULATED EDUCATION. — UnIVER»
8AL1TY OF FEATUKE IN ORGANIC IJEINGS, AND SPECIALLY IN "HAN.—
HESPONSIBILITY llfVOLVED. — APPLICATION OF THE ADAPTATION PHOCESS,
A STEADILY CONTINUED AND PKOGKESSIVE EDUCATION.

UniversaUty of Jeature. Every object capable of expansion or
growth proclaims the season of human instrumentality the most efficient
and most extensively useful, when in a germinative or adolescent con'
dition, or at the commencement of its career. Look at the mighty
river, as it pours its broad and deep waters into the devouring ocean,
and where is the man, or body of men, that would divert it from its
channel ? Follow it up, mile after mile, till you arrive at its fountain-
head, and what do you see, but an insignificant rill, whose course a
child might turn.

This feature is still more conspicuously displayed in organic sub-
stances. Look at the trunk of the sturdy and stately oak. Hundreds,
aye, thousands of men could not bend it a hair's breadth from its direc-
tion. Look at it, when a tender tiny shoot, it sprouts from the acorn,
and a little child could bend it, in whatever form or direction he wills.
How hard, next to impossible, is it to tame and subdue the wild old
and vicious animal, and much more to eradicate any vicious or evil
habit which a dog or horse may have contracted ! How easy, on the
contrary, to educate to almost any mechanical employment or pursuit
the young colt or dog ! The effect of industry and perseverance in
the training of either of these animals, confessedly the most sagacious
of the brute creation, is perfectly marvellous.

SCIKNCE OF EDUCATION.

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And the luiman specu's is no exception to this univcrgal law. In-
deed, there is no creatur-j so plastic, so puscoptible of impressions, and
of tlie inlhiencc of early training, as man in all the parts of his com-
pound nature, physically, intellectually and morally. Wo all know the
effect of early education on the physical frame of the young of all
animals, and especially of man ! — of the robustness — the athletic
strength, and the capability of physical endurance of those who
have had justice done to the training of their bodies, when young,
when in a state of growth. The record of the feats and achieve-
ments of the Greek and Koman soldiers in the manhood age of these
nations, fin'uish the most ample illustration of the truth of this obser-
vation. And the effects of early training are still more visible both
in our intellectual and moral constitution. AVho can over-estimate the
influence of early and sound education on the intellect and conscience
of man? We do not here refer to individual minds, for born genuises
will rise to eminence at times, whatever the external obstructions of their
more juvenile years ; we refer mainly to the average class of minds
trained to the exercise of patient thought, and to the iiard yet dilllcult
work of self-denial, when in a growing state. What triumphs have
the one and the other not achieved, and what blessings untold and
priceless, have not thereby been poured out on the human family at
large! In full concert with the most palpable, every day observation,
are the intimations of Holy Writ. Nothing more to the point or more
encouraging, than the hackneyed, yet unspeakably precious saying,
" Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will
not depart from it." And with a few exceptions, which after all but
go to the confirmation of the general principle, have we not in the
whole history and condition, both of the body politic and ecclesiastic,
the most abundant illustrations of the divine truthfulness and faithful-
ness. What is the secret of the distinction of four-fifths of the men
who sway in literary and scientific, in commercial and political matters ;
and still more of the men who take the lead in all benevolent and
philanthropic, in all religious and moral undertakings — what but the
advantages they enjoyed in their more juvenile years. And here we
cannot refrain from adverting to the striking harmony that obtains be-
tween the findings and experience of nature, and the discoveries and
intimations of Holy Writ ? What is it that gives such power and in-
fluence to the early education of tho rising generation ? It is that
principle in our intellectual and moral constitution designated habit ;
the principle which renders an intellectual and moral act when reiter-
ated, it matters not how unpalatable and formidable it may be at the

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outset, part and parcel of ourselves, — a second nature, a very laceration
of our inclinations to abandon. And do not all the testimonies of
the divine record but go to the ratification and illustration of the
power and glory of this innate jirinciple, proving to a demonstra-
tion that the author both of nature and revelation is one and the
same.

Responsihillty involved. And what an awful responsibility is in-
volved in tliis position, that unless justice is done to the educational
work, to tlie training process at the very season when the mind is
growing and most susceptible of impressions, at no other season can
that be done ? You may redeem the time that has been misspent, you
may ply your energies when the powers are more fully developed and
matured ; and mucli, in this way, may be laudably accomplished —
much permanent good eifected ; but the season has ^'assed, the
golden opportunity has gone and cannot be recalled. You may give
utterance to the poignancy of your regrets, and bitterly lament the
carelessness, if not the criminality, of those to whom you were
entrusted intellectually and morally, as well as physically, as the most
precious of all deposits, as one whose education was destinated to tell
not only on the fleeting moments of a day, but on the whole of your
eternity ; but you cannot recall the season of improvement. And how
powerfully does this enforce the application of the adaptation process ?

Adaptation process. And that plainly is, that education be dili-
gently administered at the proper season, when the recipients are in a
growing state, and therefore most susceptible of impressions. Though
education in its broad features is continuous on throughout time and
eternity, its real and most important work is effected in our juvenility,
at the commencement of our thinking life. There is no doubt such a
thing as ever learning and yet never learning, but still this fact does
not affect the position as to the proper season when the basis is laid
and a right direction given to the whole superstructure of education.
It is needless to dwell on the value of laying a proper foundation here,
as in everything else. If infinite wisdom tests a wise and a foolish man
by the character of the foundation laid for a house, a fortiori must this
be the case with education, that building destined not only to shelter
and embellish in time but eternity. And what does a proper foun-
dation in education consist of? It consists of a steady, progressive
education during the whole of our juvenile years, from 5 or 6 to 15
or 16 years of age. During that period, we have seen that there
are several epochs of development, when one set of powers are more
fully developed than others, and which require special studies for

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their exercise. Unless these epochs are embraced at their proner
season, much injury must ensue. Hence, the utter folly of maki:i<f
education a mere succession of fits and starts, a foi'ced hot-house affair
for six or twelve months, and, then, a total cessation for as many more.
And so this alternation system goes on. At one time, all is bustling
activity in tlie matter, and, at another, all is left off, or whatever is
done is the hap-hazard, spasmodic effort of the day. No one who
contemplates with calm reflection the nature of mind, can fail to appre-
hend the damage done to education by the pursuance of such a course.
What would be the effect of such a treatment of the body, if the food
necessary for its nourishment were withheld for a week, or so many
days, and then presented in abundance, even to a surfeit? It would in-
evitably result in the most disastrous consequences to the body. But
the mind is a far more delicate piece of mechanism than the body, and
to supply it with congenial food at one time, and then withhold it
altogether, is more fitted to unhinge, and derange, and cripple, than to
nourish, and strengthen, and mature. And not only should it be con-
tinuous, it ought to be protracted. How many parents regard their
offspring more as a selfish convenience or worldly gain to them, than
as a solemn trust, for Avhich they are accountable to the author of all
their blessings ; and, hence, so many of the most promising and talented
youths are removed from school and sent off to lucrative situations,
long before their minds have reached the era of the reflective ; and,
couseqnently, before they have been accustomed to turn to practical
account the facts they have amassed, or the information they have laid
up. Not only are their higher powers unexercised, but their capability
of turning to profitable account the education tiiey have received, is
never called forth ; and, consequently, the education they have re-
ceived is, in too many instances, productive of no beneficial results,
either to themselves or their fellow-creatures. This, then, is a point
in which not only parents are deeply involved, but the best and dearest
interests of states and churches. Would that the i-ime had arrived
when education will be regarded as the true foundation stone of all
prosperity to individuals, to nations, and to churches ! Then would
all parties be found combining their energies and zeal in securing for
the rising generation a continuous and well-regulated education, as at
once the guarantee of their happiness and usefulness, the bulwark of
tlu! State, and the glory of the Church.

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RECAPITULATION OF CIIAi'TER.

Thip, the last characteristic, is, perhaps, the most easily apprehended,
and involving the deepest responsibilities of any we have yet considered.
All admit that youth is the season best fitted both for the reception of
instruction and for the development of the faculties ; and that when
these are neglected at that season, they can never be fully repaired ;
and yet, how careless are too many parents in reference to their off-
spring enjoying all the educational advantages possible, by their regu-
larly attending school during the whoie period of their juvenile years.
This is a lamentation, and shall be for a lamentation ! This irregu-
larity forms a marked feature over much of this continent — is, in fact,
very common in all young countries, and hence, generally, the super-
ficiality of the education imparted. It has been recently [)roposed
by a royal educational commission of the Parliament of Britain, that
the number of hours given to education every day should be greatly
reduced, and that the time thus saved should be handed over to phys-
ical or manual pursuits. We have little doubt of this plan operating
beneficially, provided the children carry on their studies during the
whole of their school age. If this were done, not by evening schools
but by a limited period every day, and continued till they are sixteen
or seventeen years of age, it would, we b lieve, further largely the
interests of education. Either this, or a compulsory attendance, till
they reach a certain age, will impart a competent education, such as
will prove of real service to the recipients, fitting them for usefulness
in whatever sphere they may move, and imparting to them at once
the ability atid the inclination to educate themselves. This were an
education worth striving for, and only requiring a nation's extent and
a generation's existence to show what it can do for man individually
and collectively — for man temporally and eternally.

We have now finished the Second Book, or the Science of Educa-
tion. That, as has already been noticed, is founded upon two things;
first, the nature of the recipient of education, in its grand, essential
features, and the means to be employed for the development and
growth of the same ; or, in other words, the application of the law
of adaptation to the various characteristics of the child's nature, that
they may be expanded, and thereby rendered subservient to the high
and important purposes for which they were destiuated. No one, wo
think, will venture to question the soundness the legitimacy of this

SCIENCE OP EDUCATION.

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l&w. We may make mistakes in reference to the nature of the young,
iis well as to the proper appliance in certain circumstances ; but as to
the law itself, and our obligations to comply with it, we possess the
highest possible exemplifications, alike in the kingdom of nature and
•of grace. We lay claim to no infallibility, either in reference to the
number, or the exact boundaries of the leading characteristics or fea-
tures in the young, or in reference to the application of the means.
Great diversity of view may obtain as to the first, and considerable
modifications may be made as to the second ; but as to the appropriate-
ness of the law itself— -as the law that should sway and regulate the
whole educational process, we entertain not the shadow of a doubt.
The characteristics may be increased, and that with greatest ease, and
other means, or modifications of means, may be preferred for their
development ; but as to the excellence of the law itself, we feel that
we are standing upon a rock, which will not oidy bid defiance to every
assailant, but which will become all the more stable and enduring iu
proportion to the fury of the tempest that beats upon it, or the
lashing of tiie waves that wash it. We have attempted to lay the
basis of the science of education, or rather we have endeavored to
reduce to a system or methodical arrangement the principles embodied
ui what is usually designated ' IVie Training system,' and which were
so admirably worked out and exemplified by Stow. That devoted
philanthropist and educationist saw clearly, in the light of God's tes-
timony, the principle or principles on which genuine education rests.
With indomitable energy — -with consummate skill, and with patient
perseverance, he showed the application of these principles to secular
as well as to religious education ; and having done so, he felt that his
task was finished. We liave endeavored to gather these principles
together, and reduce them to a science. This is all the originality to
which we lay claim. If we have succeeded iu this, we are satisfied.

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BOOK III.

THE ART OF EDUCATION.

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Vi},..

The art of education is just the reducing to practice of the whole
of the two preceding books. It is the maintenance of this connection
— the connection between the science and the art of education, that
constitutes, in our estimate, one of the most important and prominent
features of our work. Several publications have recently appeared
on the business of teaching ; some discussing its pi'inciples, others its
practice, but in comparatively few is the bond of union traced ; and
even when it is, in many cases the boundary line of each is not very
clearly marked, or the relation between them definite and palpable.
It has been at least our aim and endeavour, — with what success others
must decide, — to advance not even one practical position, but what
natui'ally flows from some principle embodied and illustrated either in
the first or second book; and that practical position, not as con-
jectural statements or plainly deduced logical inferences, merely, but
as the result of oft-repeated, severe, and successful experiment.

In taking a com^jrehensive view of the department now under con-
sideration, it is manifest tliat one portion of it has to do mainly witli
the teacher, with the duties arising from the relationship subsisting be-
tween him and liis pupils ; and that the other belongs to the community
or nation, whose office it is to provide the necessary school accommo-
dation, furniture and apparatus, as well as the means necessary for thi'
maintenance of a well cipiipped teaching staff. As the former apper-
tains more directly to the essence of the art, and the latter to the mere
outworks, we have designated the one the Interior, and the other tlif
Exterior.

The Interior naturally claims our first attention, not merely because
it is the more important, and occupies a much larger space, but

ART OF EDUCATION.

245

because it regulates, and fasliions, and shapes the other. Whatever
the system pursued by the teacher, whatever his views in reference
to method, it is perfectly plain, if full justice is done to it, that the
school-house, the furniture and apparatus, &g., must be all of a-piece ;
and, by consequence, that the Interior must jjrecede the Exterior.
This is the mere scaffolding of the building, that the palace itself, with
all its substantialities, equipments and embellishments.

IM^H

THE INTERIOR.

This comprehends four subordinate divisions : — 1st, J^ie branches
taught ; 2nd, The method of teaching ; 3rd, The instrumentality ; and
4th, The teacher, or the living agent. These embrace the whole of the
inner life of education in the practical department, and conduct over a
wide and important field. Fully to exhaust these themes would more
than fill a large volume. We must content ourselves with a brief
glance at the more salient points.

CHAPTER I.

BRANCHES TAUGHT.

These branciies divided i^xto two classes: — 1. Those that plainly
fuitnish the means for the acquisition of knowledge and the
discipline op the mind; and 211(1. those that impart knowledge
moke directly. i. a. music ; b. english reading — from alphabiit
to the highest elocutionary exercise, with all its accompani-
MENTS ; c. Grammar ; d. Classics ; e. Mathematics, embracing Arith-
metic. Algebra and Geometry, both theoretical and practical ;
/, Writing, Drawing and Painting ; g. Book-keeping. II a. Oral
Lessons; h. Geography; c. History; d, Natural Science; «. Ele-
ments OF Natural Philosophy ; /. Psychology ; g. Elements of
Social Science or Political Economy.

The nature and utility of each branch. To those who regard
instruction and education as synouimous terms, who look upon the
mere imparting of knowledge as the all in all of education, this is a
matter of transcendent importance. Hence, the value which such gener-
ally attach to the Text-books, to the mere scholarship of the teacher,
to the an-ay of subjects professedly taught in their favourite institu-
tions. Though we cannot and dare not look upon instruction or mere

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knowledge, however wholesome and useful, as of equal import with
education, we yield to none in our estimate of knowledge as an end or
as a means leading to an end of immeasurable value, an end broad as
the expanse of heaven and lasting as eternity. We prize instruction
in very proportion to the magnitade of the end served by education
itself; and in the full tide of this spirit, we proceed to the considera-
tion of the subject before us.

On each of these branches of learning, we shall now offer a few
observations, dwelling mainly on their nature, position, and utility, and
reserving our observations on the mode of being taught till a subse-
quent stage. The three branches, Heading, Writing, and Arithmetic,
have been universally admitted in every age to form the staple
branches of learning in all our elementary schools, and this, we think.
with greatest possible propriety. How utterly hopeless are the
shrewdest and most naturally gifted, when destitute of these branches !
But, Avith these at our command, we can, as with a key, unlock all the-
treasures of knowledge, and become, if we will, very eucyclopajdias of
learning. Is it not much to be apprehended that these branches, even
in our elementary schools, do not receive the attention and considera-
tion to which they are entitled? In too many instances, scarcely have
the scholars in om* common schools entered into their teens, than they
are hurried into what is conceived more advanced studies, and much
more becoming their age, whilst the far more essential ones of read-
ing, counting and writing, are all but overlooked or neglected, or, at
best, receive but a slender share of attention. In Grammai', or Tligli
Schools, they are oftentimes entirely superseded by the higher
branches. This, we apprehend, is not only one of the grand sources
of the miserable reading to which we are sometimes doomed to listen,
but of the comparative indifference, if not absolute neglect, of all
reading and mental improvement on the part of two-thirds of those
who have received, what is generally considered, a fair common school
education. These essential branches they have never entirely mastered,
not because they had no opportanity of doing so, but because they
were supplanted by others which are now of no practical benefit to
them : and having neither the inclination nor energy to overcome tlie
drudgery necessary to enable them to comprehend a piece of oomraou
English reading, they naturally sink into a state of utter supinenoss.
in reference to their mental improvement, and not unfrequently give
themselves up to the lowest and most grovelling sensual pleasures and
amusements.

But to return fi-om this digression. Let us now briefly advert to

ART OP EDUCATION.

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each of these branches as enumerated, and this, as stated, entirely for
the purpose of indicating their nature and utility in a complete and
liberal course of education.

(I.) Music. We have given music the precedence of all the
others, not because it is to be here systematically taught, but because,
even when practically employed, it forms such a powerful auxiliary
in the acquisition of all the other branches — such a valuable hand-
maiden in the ordering and regulating of the whole scholastic estab-
lishment. It has been said, that to attempt to condi'^-t an infant or
primary school without music, is as impossible as to govern a nation
without laws. This is strong language, but it is not, in our opinion,
one whit overstated or exafjfferated. What is the natural condition
or temperament of children of four, five or six years of age ? It is that
of high buoyancy of spirits — of mirthfulness and joyoasness, — a state,
this, evidently as necessary for the health and growth both of the mind
and body, as it is for the happiness of the young. And this spirit or
temper must have its outflowings ; and if these are not controlled and
directed within some legitimate channel, they will, erewhile, produce
such confusion and disorder, which it will be no easy task to quell and
rectify. Now, we know not a better or more advantageous channel
in infont or primary schools, than that of music, accompanied, occa-
sionally, with physical exercises. But it is not only in the most
initiatory departments that music may be turned to profitable account.
It is oftentimes of the greatest possible consequence in the more
advanced stages. It operates powerfully in preserving order. No
small amount of the disorder occurring in schools, originates in the
changes that take place in the different recitation exercises, and still
more, in the entering or returning from school-room, whether for a
longer or a shorter period of intermission. Everything connected
with such movements must be strictly regulated and watched, and
every m(!ans resorted to, to prevent pressing, or jostling, or pushing,
or quarrelling, or disturbance of any sort. And we know not a better
regulator, in all these movements, than the accompaniment of suit-
able music. The children, trained from their earliest years to keep
time to the music, and to march in concert with one another, Ul-g con-
strained, in spite of themselves, to conduct themselves with decorum,
and to avoid everything that would create confusion. But music,
when judiciously called in, constitutes, even in more advanced schools,
an admirable mental stimulant. The brainy system — the seat of
thought and volition — is liable to the same law of contraction and
relaxation as the m.scular, and consequently demands repeated

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changes. Look at the class or form, tired and exhausted. They
have been in the same posture for more than an hour, and their minds
are worn out, and no longer capable of vigorous effort. The teacher
has exhorted them over and over again to diligence and perseverance,
and accompanied his exhortation with every species of threatening,
but all to no purpose. The children, from no mental, but purely from
physical causes, have suidc into a state of perfect listlessness and
inditterence, which not only bids defiance to every kind of remon-
strance and appeal, but coolly vents itself in tricks, and pranks, and
mischief, of every description. In these circumstances let their posi-
tion be changed, and let that be associated with some cheerful, some
well known air, witli stirring and exciting sentiment; and their whole
«;ondition is altered, and their emotional nature is translated from a
state of dormant lethargy to one of highest excitement. The ener-
gies of the intellect are rested, resuscitated and invigorated — the
youths prosecute their studies with fresh ardour and determination ;
and all this is effected in the space of a few minutes.

But music in the school-room is not only a powerful intellectual
stimulant, it also elcates and refines the whole tone of its morality.
Why is it that all, or mostly all children prefer t(^ learn a piece of
poetry to prose ; and still more, why do they learn more easily and
remember much longer a song married to some agreeable air, than any
other composition ? It is evidently because of the facility with which
they commit anything to memory that is associated with sweet
melody, it is evidently because of the gratification thereby imparted,
and the delightful emotions thei'eby enkindled, producing far deeper
and more lasting impressions. Let the sentiments and thoughts thus
mandated be true, and manly, and christian, and this the teacher
should see to, and the whole moral tone of the school will be elevated
and purified.

On these and similar grounds we insist that music, if it were to serve
no other purposes than those just specified — a means leading to such
important ends, ought to be ranked as one of the branches of a com-
mon school education.

But there are other reasons eipially powerful, conducting to the
same conclusion, and which must be here noticed, though we can do
little more than barely enumerate them.

1st. Mv^dic is one of the instincts of our being. " Singing," says
"Currie, '' is as natural to man as speaking ; and, for any reason that
appears to the contrary, it should be as universal. The parent speaks
to the child, and the child speaks after the pattern thus given, him ;

ART OP EDUCATION.

249

both act upon instinct : tlio parent sings to the chihl, and the child
learns to sing to itself by imitation ; in this, too, both follow their
instincts. In childhood, speech, as the intelligent utterance of thought
and emotion ; and song, as giving intensity to the utterance of the
emotions, are alike common." " Children," says Morrison, " art;
instinctively fond of music. The nurse soothes the young infant with
snatches of some simple melody, and the smile on the little cheek
betrays the pleasure which the song conveys. As they advance in
years, (children manifest a stronjf liking for all kinds of nuisic. and
readily pick up those tunes which make the deei)est impression on
their minds, or those which they are in tlic habit of hearing most fre-
([uently. These are facts familiar to all who liave to deal with chil-
dren, and it must be evident to any one who has reflected on the sub-
ject, that all that is necessary to render them tolerable, if not good
musicians, is to accustom the ear to musical sounds, which will thus
1)0 ac([uired with little apparent effort. Continuous systematic train-
ing Itegun in infancy, and carried on during the whole period of the
child's school life, will accomplish far more than any amount of con-
vulsive, spasmodic exertion."

Surely, then, if music is thus an instinct of our being, if an endow-
ment bestowed less or more upon all by the beneficent Creator, it
must have been intended to bo cultivated and developed, and how
could that be more effectually done, than by making it a branch of
education in our common schools ?

2ud. Music opens up to the possessor, sources of the highest grati-
fication, of innocent and refined amusement. This is discussed at
some length elsewhere.

3rd. Music, both vocal and instrumental, adds largely to the domes-
tic and social happiness. Whatever may be man's industrial pursuits,
neither his physical nor mental condition will admit of constant labor.
He nuist have his seasons of recreation and pastime ; and v/hat better
adapted for these purposes than music. An hour or two given to such
exercise after the toils of the day are over, sweetens the domestic tie,
and enlivens and^exhilarates the social circle. And if the sentiments
embodied are suitable for family or social singing, instead of paralyziiig,
they will stimulate to industry, and largely enhance the comforts and
enjoyments of household life, as well as elevate the moral tone.
These advantaffes could not be half so extensively secured, unless all
are taught to sing, just as they are taught to read.

4th. Music inspires the peasantry of a country with loyal and
patriotic sentiments. The ballads and songs of a country are power-

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fill either for good or evil. IIow injurious, for example, have been
the effects of many of the songs of Scotland's bard upon tlie general
character of his countrymen. IIow beneficially instrumental, on the
other hand, might school-music be rendered, in counteracting these
results, and in impressing the highly susceptible minds of youth witii
truths of the last importance to their present and future welfare. But
the nation's legends and triumphs — its chivalry and heroism, are.
generally, preserved and embalmed in song. This constitutes the
grand medium by which the peasantry of i i ■'►'mtry are brought in
contact with its past history — its heroic achievements — its noble ex-
ploits. In accpiiring these, in school, tuned to some national melody,
they are iiis{)ired with confidence in her strength and prowess; and
should they be obliged to take up arms in defence of their country's
rights and liberty, how will these very songs that they acquired when
their minds were so pliant and so easily impressed, set to those very
tunes that thrill through theii inmost soul — brace them to ftxce, with
unshaken fortitude and with mfignanimous daring, the cannon's month
or the lion's gory mane ; and surely, in all this, we have a sufTiciently
powerful argument in favour of music in our common schools.

5th. Music is indispensable in exciting and keeping alive a flame of
heavenly devotion in the soul of the spiritual worshipper. Under every
dispensation of the divine method of salvation, music has formed an
essential part of public worship. It has been strictly enjoined by the
Great Author of our faith ; and wherever it has been engaged in witli
spirit, it has been productive of the most softening, chastening, and
heaven-inspiring results. But these results will not be realized in
anything like their full extent by the mere listener to music, however
seraphic the strains, whether performed by instn ments or the human
voice. To be fully appreciated, and to derive all the benefits intended,
it must be actually celebrated — we must sing with our lips ; and to
accomplish this, all should be taught to sing according to their natural
ability, and this can only be, by making it a branch of education.

Beading. It were a waste of time to go into any argumentation to
prove that this is a branch of education. It stands fotth conspicuously
as the branch of branches ; as that on which we are more dependent
for our gratification, our advancement and elevation, than on any
other — than on all the others put together ; that through which we
obtain access to all the others, and by which we can impart the great-
est extension and perpetuity to our own instrumentality or agency.
Next to the glory of mind, is that of articulate language, the vehicle
by which we give embodiment and expression to all our mental opera-

ART OP EDUCATION.

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tions — to all the mynad elements of onr consciotisness ; by wliich we
can, iis it were, annihilate space, and send our eopritations, as winged
messengers, to the utmost ends of the earth, or transfer them ta
generations unborn. With what power does this branch of educa-
tion invest us — a power by whieh I can address, instead of a few
thousands, a whole world of thinking beings, and by which I can add
to my own slender sto<!k the accumulated stores of past generations !
And how vastly has this boon been eidianced by the art of writing,
and still more by the art of printing !

And when should this branch of education be taught ? At the very
commencement of our school life — a position universally acceded to it.
Wherever there exists such a thing as education, whether public or
private, the first acquirement — the first thing learned, is reading, as
not only the key to all other knowledge, but as the key of the outer
door, without which we could never open those that are within. And
snrfily there could n()t be a stronger testimony to its outstrii)ping
importance as a branch of education ! It may be a time before vo
can use it for the benefit of others ; but to acquire knowledge — to
know the workings of others' minds, it is indispensable, and that
throujihout all the stajjes of our educational career. Would that it
received, both in its initiatory and advanced stages, the att'jution and
care to which it is entitled ! Would that the conviction were more
generiilly prevalent, that it is only as the symbol of thought — as the
manifestation of the inner workings of the mind, that it is significant,
and disi)lays its power ! Would that from the comniencement of our
educational career up to the most advanced otages^ the thoughts were
always associated with the vocables, and that means were taken with
the teaching of this branch, by which this bond of union were more
paljiably realized and exhibited. Then would it appear in all its
inherent worth and glory. Then would it be seen to be, both in
reference to ourselves and others, the instrument of instruments .he
key of keys.

But innumerable also are the indirect benefits flowing from this
branch of education. It cultivates the observational powers in the
distinguishing of the different letters. It helps largely in giving to the
young power over the workings of their own will, and over all the mind.
If language is what Isaac Taylor calls it — the engine of the mind's
operations — the record of its stores, and the index of whatever is cog-
nizable to our external and internal senses — then how invaluable is
that instrument — how immense its power ! How deep the responsi-

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bility connected with its teaching! How exalted the privih'ge of
wielding it with dexterity !

3. Grammar. Every scholar is aware that this liranch of learning
is neither more nor less than lanjiuajfe methodized, or r(iduced to a
science. Language is the (Expression of thought, and thought is an
act of the mind by which something is affirmed or predicated respect-
ing any object or objects that maybe submitted to it. 'Snow 'and
' white,' for example, are two distinct objects presented to the mind,
suggesting certain ideas or notions, but as yet no verdict or judgment
has been arrived at. When, however, I say ' the snow is white,' that
moment is an act of the mind performed. The mind, by reason of its
own constitution, affirms or declares something regarding the snow :
and when this act is given utterance to by sounds, or expressed in
words, it is designated a sentence, or, logically regarded, a proposition.

The above exjiression, ' Snow is white,' is called a simple sentence,
because it consists of a single subject and predicate. It is eapa])lo,
however, of every possible expansion or enlargement, and this is
accomplished by means of additional words and clauses, according to
circumstances. " The snow, lying on the ground, is white ;" or, '' the
snow, which fell last night, is purely white." Whatever the terms
applied to these words or clauses, it matters not. They are the creat-
ures of the mind, and are summoned into existence to apprize our
fellow-creatures of its actings or cogitations. Now, the business or
office of Grammar is to take these words, or sentences, or clauses, and
classify them, or reduce them to a science. But, before this can be
done, these sentences and words must be analyzed, or reduced to their
respective elements — the sentences, if simple, are regarded in their
essential parts — the subject and the predicate, and these again in all
their attributes and enlargements, &c. Again, if the proposition con-
sists of a leading thought, and others dependent, the former is desig-
nated the principal clause, and the latter, the subordinate. If the
sentence is made up of a number of clauses, all independent of one
another, it is designated a compound sentence, and the clauses
co-ordinate. But sentences or clauses are made up of words, and
these, too, are all analyzed and reduced, first, to their classes;
secondly, to their subdivision, or the distinction that obtains in each
class ; and thirdly, to the relation they bear to one another in the sen-
tence. But again, words are made up of their elements, called let-
ters — the forms — the power — the names, and the combination of which,
must be all carefully considered.

Now, the reduction or analytical process is at an end. The language,

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whatever it be, h now resolved into its elements, and all is in readi-
ness for the .synthetical organizing process, or that process by which
these elements are examined — compared — classified, and a science
formed called Grammar.

Grannuar is thus a purely abst- .ct science, and bears the same
relation to language that Botany u^es to plants, or Zoology to ani-
mals, or Astronomy to the stars in their magnitudes — their relations,
their revolutions, with all their classifications, technicalities and ab-
stractions ; and just as it is before these sciences can be constructed,
the analytical process nmst be gone through — the plants and animals
must have their parts, or elements, or ingredients, examined — com-
pared, and their resemblances and differences carefully noted, so must
it be here in reference to language.

We have been thus particular as to the mode pursued in the forma-
tion of language into the science of Grammar, that we may the more
clearly apprehend its position and utility as a branch of education,
when and how it should be taught. And from what has just been
stated, no one, we think, can fail to perceive the utter folly of attempt-
ing to teach Grammar as an abstract science, the only way in which it
is presented to us iu treatises on the subject, to very young children,
however intelligent or precocious. Such may roam at will among the
mysteries of technicalities ; they may commit to memory, and that
most accurately, a long series of definitions, and rules, and examples ;
hut their whole accjuisition is, after all, nought but a species of sym-
bolism, or nominalism, or wordmongery, destitute of all practical
benefit, either in the future use of the language or in the disciplining
of the mind. The very command they have got of a few vocables or
terms, operates more as an obstruction than as an auxiliary to their
apprehension of the idea or thought couched underneath.

But whilst we would denounce all such attempts to teach very
young children any one branch of abstract science, and especially that
of langu-ge ; and that simply because those faculties, by which alone
they are apprehended and appreciated, are not yet developed ; we are
equally decided in affirming that much may and much ought to be
done in teaching the young those elements of language that lie at the
very foundation of Grammar in its most synthetical foi'm. So soon
as the child is able to read and understand a simple sentence, he is
capable of analyzing it, or looking at it in all its parts — of drawing
the distinction between the thing spoken of and what is predicated or
affirmed regarding it — of divestng the subject or object of all its
adjuncts, and the predicate of all its extensions and modifications — of

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observing and detecting at once a difference of meaning under a differ*
ence of form, and that not only iu clauses, but iu phrases and voca-
bles, ai'd 'eu iu letters, and thereby obtain a knowledge of what cou-
• titutes the very essence of Grammar, though the technical terms of
Orthography, Etymology and Syntax, have never once been sounded
in his ears. Nay, we are prepared to go a step furtluu', and maintain
that a child, able to read, with ordinary fluency, an elementary sen*
tencc, is capable not only of comprehending the various ingredients, but
of deriving the greatest possible benefit from tlus exercise. It is admi-
rably fitted to arrest his attention, and to whet his thinking powers.
[t, will concentrate his thoughts on the meaning of the passage, aud
enable him to distinguish between the leading and subordinate ideas.
It will place him on firm ground, and give him a known region on
whicdi to stand when he proceeds to the n^gular study of grammar in
all its scientific bearings and relations — in all its classili(;ations aud
lechnicalities. And what is this after all but walking in the footsteps
of the original compiler of a grammar, who muot pass through the
analytical before he attempts the synthetical jirocess — who must
thoroughly understand the elements before he proceed to genei-ulize
thereon. Nay, even sujtj)osing this child never systematically studies
the science of grammar, he has, by analysis of language, obtained a
boon of inestimable ^alue — a boon, by which his thinking powers are
developed, and by wl.':;h, too, he lool ':i)on language with another
eye altogether — an eye that is neve^ s> .sfied till it has penetrated the
innermost recesses of the thoughts conveyed.

With such a course of preparation, I need scarcely say that the
youth, when he reaches his ninth or tenth year, will enter upon the
»tudy of grammar, not only with the highest zest and <lelight, but with
the greatest success and profit. That the study of grammar is an
essential branch, not only of an advanced but of a common school
education, is abundantly apparent from its all but universal Joption.
There is scarcely a common miscellaneous school in any country
where it is not taught in some shape or another. When properly
taught, it should be carried on contemporar-'ously with reading, as, in
fact, it is but a dopartmen of it. Many are the benefits flowing from
its systematic study.

Ist. U teaches the theory of correct expression, and thus we imitate
those who speak correctly, more confidently, more intelligently, and
more rapidly ; whilst, on tiio other hand, it fortifies against the influ-
ence of incorrect e vample.

2nid. Tt imparts the habit of correct speaking an" vriting, and

iiiilhest
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ART OF EDUCATION.

255

thereby gives greater precision and exactness to our conceptions and
our judgments.

.'>r<l. Grammar makes us acquainted with the essential principles,
the leading laws aud operations, of the human mind, Language is
but the expression, the tangible represci tation of tluise princii)les and
laws, and these are substantially the same, everywhere, and in all,
111 reducing these to a science, we have mind actually embodied
i)etbre us.

-Itli. IJut the indirect benefits < he study of grammar are numer-
ous and valuable. Amongst others, it whets our discriminating pow-
ers. In the j)rosecution of this study, we are compelled to compare
one thought with another — one word with another, aud this naturally
sliiirpens our powers of comparison, aud our ability to trace relations.
But llie principal faculty it cultivates is that of generalization. Thia
is the pow(!r mainly culled into play in the construction of every
branch of science, and not less in grammar than in any otliei In the
prosecution of this study, our minds ar<i naturally brought into con-
tact with this exercise ; they catch the process, and thereby discipline
and develop it more and more extensively. And what an exalted —
wliat an ennobling power this! IIow admirably fitted to exhibit the
order, the symmetry and beauty that pervade all the works of nature,
aiul thcj'cby to elevate the mind from the contem[)lation of the visible
to the Invisible One — from the works, to the Creator, of whose mind
tlioy are but the transcrij)!.

Classics. The Roman people were divided into classes, and the
highest were, by eminence, styled (Jlassici. Hence the name after-
wards came to signify the highest and purest class of writers in any
language. But whilst the term is not unfre(pu3ntly applied to authors
or works of the first rank, ic is commonly used to denote those Greek
and Latin authors who flourished and wrote in their respective coun-
tries, and that at the times when their countries, generally, had reached
the highest stage of civili^'ition and literary refinement. It is need-
less, here, to give a catalogue of these fithors, or to point out the lead-
ing peculiarities of each, or the order in which they are usually studied,
riiis we may have occasion to do at a subsequent stage in our course.
During the Mediaeval ages, the study of these languages, and, espe-
cially, the Latin, was all but entirely confined to the Roman Catholic
dergy. In consequence of the use of Latin in the rites of their
church, their influence and power could not be obtained, save through
its knowledge, and the chur(!hmen accordingly gave up the study
of his mother-tongue, and prided himBeK" only in his Latinity. The

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wider diffusion of these languages in conneccion witli tlie invention of
printing, constitutes, as is well known, the foundation of tnt revival
of learning which took place in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.
Then, the learned throughout Europe wrote principally in Latin ; and
hence, the large number of words, of Latin origin, to be found in
English and other modern languages. Hence, too, the endowment
and establisment, about this time, of Grammar Schools, as they are
called, in England, and other advanced seminaries of learning over
Europe, with a view to the encouragement of the propagation of tlie
grammar and literature of these languages. The piincipal of what
are now considered the first class schools in England, all sprang into
existence during this period — all intended and adjusted to prei)are the
youth for the tlien existing Universities through the study of their
grammar ; and hence, we apprehend, the real origin of the term Gram-
mar Schools. From about the middle of the sixteenth century till
about fifty years ago, these languages held undisputed sway in all our
advanced institutions of learning— were universally admitted to con-
stitute the basis and superstructure of a liberal education. As
science in its varied appliances advanced, and refinement and com-
merce grew, the question arose, — and was argued with no small amount
of earnestness and pertinacity -Whether the study of these languages
yielded compensation adequaio to the time and means expended in
their attainment ; and whether the mathematics, both pure and mixed,
as well as the sciences generally, should be consigned entirely to our
colleges ; or should not be studied, at least, in their elements before en-
tering within their walls ? This subject agitated the educational world
not a little about fifty years ago, or less> and, we think, with the greatest
gain and benefit. Tlie public mind has now settled down into a
general, if not universal conviction, that whilst the Greek and Latin
languages lie at the foundation of a liberal education in all our
advanced schools or academies, thei'C are other branches which should
be associated with them, such as Mathematics, Elements of Natural
Science and of Natural Philosophy, INIodern Languages, &c. In our
opinion, great changes are still required both in the allotment of time
to these branches, and in the method of their teaching, before these
serve their respective purposes, even on the understanding that the
Classics are allowed to hold the preponderance.

The advantages of the Greek and Latin languages, as giving a claim
to their merited pre-eminence, are twofold — linguistic and literary.
On account of the former, tliey are entitled to the palm ; 1st. Because
of the regularity of their structure ; 2nd. Because of thoir logical

ART OF Et>trCAT10N.

257

accuracy of cxprc?!sion ; 3rfl. Because of the comparative ease with
■\vhicli their etvmolocjy is traced and reduced to general laws ; 4th.
Because of their severe canons of taste and style ; 5th. Because of
the very fact that they are dead, and have been handed down to us
directly from the periods of their highest perfection, comparatively
Uiitouched by the inevitable process of degeneration and decay."

" As literature, these languages ftn-nish the most graceful and some
of the noblest poetry, the finest eloquence, the deepest philosoi^hy, the
■wisest historical writing ; and these excellences are such as to be
appreciated keenly, thongh inadequately by tlie minds of the yoiing,
and to leave, as in fact they do, a lasting impression. Beside this, it
is at least a reasonable opinion that this literature has had a powerful
effect in moulding and animating the statesmanship and political life
of Britain. Nor is it to be forgotten that the whole civilization of
modern Europe is really built upon tlie foundations laid two thotisand
years ago on the shores of the INIediterranean ; tliat their languages
snpply the key to our modern tongues ; their poetry, history, philoso-
phy and law, to the poetry and history, the philosopliy and jurispru-
dence, of modern times ; that this key can seldom be acquired except
in youth. And that the possession of it, as daily experience proves,
and as those who have it not will most readily acknowledge, is very
far from being merely a literary advantage." But the indirect benefits
of the Classics are even greater than the direct. They call into play
and discipline all the powers referred to under Grammar, setting all on
a higher pinnacle. They are specially well calculated to develop and
train the whole of the abstractive and cesthetic faculties — to regulate
and to elevate the most important of our mental powers.

Matheimdics. Webster, no mean authority in Etymology, derives
this word from the Greek manthand, niafhPfes,—! learn, — a disciple,
thus signifying, in accordance with its derivation, ' things learnt.'
But liow it came to pass that this department of knowledge should
have received, by way of eminence, such a designation, he does not
attempt to trace. Very probably it arose from the circumstance that
as, at the time when this name was given, IMathematics was in high
repute among the Greeks, was considered indispensably necessary for a
liberal course of education, so it had assigned to it this honored apjiel-
lation. But, be this as it may, it is palpable to all that it opens up a most
extensive and important field, and one that will amply repay the most
dilij^ent and laborious cultivation. Tt treats of quantity in general,
and comprehends all that can be measured or numbered. It is divided
hito two parts: 1. Pure or specula' ive, in which abstract quantities or
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geometrical magnitude or numbers are the subject of investigation ,:
and 2. Mixed, in which the deductions are made from relations, whici'
are obtained from observation and experiment. To the former belong
Geometry, Algebra, Conic Sections, &c. ; and to the latter Arithmetic,
Practical Mathematics, Land-Surveying, Navigation, &c.

The three principal branches upon which the others are dependent,
are Arithmetic, Geometry and Algebra, on each of which we shall
now say a few words.

Arithmetic. This term, derived from arithmefike, helongmg to uum^
ber, and this again from arithmos, number, is used to indicate that
branch of Mathenisatics which treats of number or calculation. It may
be regarded both as a science and as an art. In the former sense, it
treats of the properties and relations of number, and is called theoretic
arithmetic ; in the hitter, it computes by figures, or reduces our know-
ledge to practice, and is therefore called practical arithmetic.

The grand elementary principle in this science is unity, or the state
of being one^ oneness ; and it is by adding to unity and then taking
from it again, that the whole of its practical opertvtions is carried oiu

It has its origin in oar social nature ; our dependence on one ano-
ther for life and all its comforts, leading not only to an interchange of
thought and sentiment, but of commodity. Hence the necessary tralfic
between man and man, nation and nation, clime and clime ; and hence,
too, the whole rationale or philosophy of commerce. As no one cau
lay claim to absolute indepeiulence of his fellows, so no one cau exist
without an exchange of goods, whatever form that exchange may
assume. '

At a very early period, the young obtain clear and distinct ideas of
number in the concrete. Tliey no sooner discover any two objects to
be alike than their idea of unity merges into duality, and so by the
addition of another and another, they rise in their complexity of
thought, and in their power of computation. If, then, arithmetic is
taught at first through the medium of sensible objects, before the
abstract or the slate be attempted, it can scarcely be commenced at
too early a period iu the history of the education of the young.
Indeed mai\y, at live years of age, may be more ripe for counting than
they are for deciphering the forms, or understanding the powers of
letters. And if it should be begun thus early, it should be carried on
continuously during the whole period of the school life, rising from tlic
most initiatory to the most adv. oed, and tliat both mentally and with
the alate.

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259

The following is a brief summary of the benefits conferred by this
branch of education :

1st. It is of practical service to all grades of society. It is a
great mistake to suppose that this branch of education is only of use
to those who are following the mercantile callinir. It is no doubt true
that the regular merchant has much more to do with such exercises,
but no tradesman or day-labourer should be without his account-book,
or the capability of inserting therein his daily transactions — what
he earns and what he expends. This, whilst it will enable him
daily or weekly to ascertain the state of his affairs, will, at the same
time, stimulate to industrial and frugal habits. There is therefore
no position in society, no condition in life, where arithmetic is not
available, and consequently should not only be universally, but
efficiently taught.

2nd. But arithmetic also is of the greatest possible benefit for
training and disciplining the mind. When carried on without the aid
of the slate, it riv .ts the attention, improves the memory and exercises
the abstractive powers. When carried on conjointly with the slate, it
weakens the tendency to take things upon trust, if the proof or truth
be within reach.- It imparts precision and exactness to the judgment.
It strengthens the powers of invention and originality, especially when
the rationale of the rule is expounded, and any effort put forth to work
out the same results in a variety of ways. In one word, arithmetic
is admirably calculated to cultivate and strengthen all the reflective
powers of mind, and i? perhaps, next to reading, and writing, the
most essential branch of a common school education.

Geometry. This term is derived from ge the earth, and nietron
a measure, and is that branch of Mathematics which treats of that
species of quantity called Magnitude. Magnitudes are of one, two or
three dimensions, as lines, surfaces and solids. They have no material
existence but they may be represented by diagrams. Theoretical
Geometry treats of the properties of magnitudes, and Practical,
of their construction. That branch which refers to magnitudes
described upon a plane, is called Plane Geometry. A system of
Geometry proceeds from simple axiomatic and incontrovertible prin-
ciples, to the demonstration of new truths ; and, from the combination
of truths previously known, new truths are continually evolved ; and
thus, by a process of logical deduction, a system of Geometrical
Science is established.

There have been disputes as to the exact position that Geometry
and the cognate branches should hold in our advanced or academic

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seminaries, and, especially, as to the relative proportion of the time that
should be dedicated to the study of Classics and Mathematics ; but there
is now happily no diversity of view as to the propriety of the latter
holding a consi)icuou3 place in every institution of learning, and this
opinion, as philosoi)hy and science advance, is taking deeper root and
extending its branches more and more widely. The following are
some of the main benefits ilowing from the study of geometry.

1. And the first is its practical utility in measuring distances,
heights, surfaces, and solids, in artificers work, guaging, land and
marine surveying, navigation, in nautical and practical astronomy, in
the arts of the machinist and the optician, in carpenti'y, engineering
and planning, perspective, and in the construction of maps and charts.

2. Geometry is a powerful instrument in enabling us to investigate
and extend our ktiowledge respecting many phenomena in the phys-
ical world. By the help of Geometr^;-, have the princii)les of theoret-
ical mechanics, of vision, of electricity and magnetism, the theory of
the propagation of sound and of light, the laws of the eijuilibrium and
the motion of fluids, been investigated. Without the rules derived
from Mathematical science, the navigator, even \viLh all the advantages
of the compass, could never have ventured out upon the wide ocean,
and, consei^uently, our knowledge of the globe would have been com-
paratively limited. Without it, too, our knowledge of the planetary
system, and still more of the system of the universe, would have been
exceedingly circumscribed, and the ennobling science of Astronomy
yet in its infancy.

3. Another direct benefit arising from Geometry, is the numerous
and striking abstract truths it makes known, which constitute a
source of highest gratification to the cultivated mind, and which, of
themselves, entitle Geometry to a prominent place in any course of
liberal education.

4. But the indirect benefits of Geometry, as a discipliuer of the
mind, plead still more powerfully for its occupying a high place as a
branch of education. It improves the memory ; it secures continuity
of attention and coherency of thought ; but it principally cultivates and
strengthens the i-easoning ftumlty ; for what is every proposition in
Geometry but a chain of deduction, where each truth haugs upon the
preceding. Some writers of high reputation have recently attempted
to impugn this view, on the ground that mathematical study has merely
to do with necessary or abstract, and not contingent truth ; and that as
the former is beyond the sphere of our observational powers, beyond
!the range of our experimentalizing, it can be of little or no benefit in

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the practical affairs of life, and that, in fact, profound mathematicians
have often proved themselves exceedingly feehle and helpless when
they attempted to bring their reasoning power in contact with contin-
gent truth. That such specimens of intellectual calibre may have occa-
sionally been exhibited, — men profound in abstract science and at the
same time very unobservant, very stupid in reference to the common
affairs of life, — is what we are not at all disposed to question. We have
sometimes met such characters ; but this, we apprehend, has not arisen
from the nature of the subject or truths about which they reasoned, but
from some inherent defect in their observational power or some idiosyn-
crasy in the reasoning faculty itself. " A step of reasoning," says a
distinguished writer, " or a syllogism, consists of a major and minor
proposition, and a conclusion ; and by a law of our mental constitution,
whether it be called judgment or the faculty of relative suggestion,
the conclusion follows as a necessary consequence from these i)remises
in reasoning in any subject as well as in Mathematics ; so that reason-
ing is exactly of the same nature in the investigation both of necesary
and contingent truth — with this difference, that in the former the chain
of sequence is of almost indefinite extent, and the premises incontro-
vertible, while in the latter it is generally brief and usually only
probable."

A step of reasoning in Mathen: ■sties is clear and satisfactory when
once perceived, which is also the case in other subjects ; for in them
the vagueness or unsatisfactoi ."npanying any discussion pro-

perly conducted, originates, i. ^ . he reasoning but in the uncertainty
and sometimes in the multiplicity of the principles involved. And all
this has been illustrated and ratified by the fact that profound mathe-
maticians have often signalized themselves, by their investigations
and discoveries in fields, where not only close and consecutive reason-
ing was indispensable, but severe study, experimental testing, and
extensive observation.

Algebra. The prefix of this word is evidently the al of Arabic
origin, signifying the, a prefix occurring often in words of Oriental
origin. What the f/ehra is derived from does not seem at all deter-
mined by philologists, some taking it from gcher, a philosopher, and
otliers from gl.fr, pai'chment.

This is another branch of INIathematics, performing its calculations
by means of letters which represent numbers or quantities, and symbols
wliich indicate the operations to be performed on them.

To ascertain the length of a line, some unit of measure, as a foot, is
assumed, and the number of feet in the line is called its length. The

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numerical value of a quantity is expressed by the number of times that
the assumed unit of measurement is contained in it. Thus, if a foot be
assumed as the unit of measure of a line which contains 20 feet, its
numerical value is 20. The same line may have different numerical
values accordin<r to the assumed unit of measure.

When the kind of units of which a number is composed, is not
mentioned, the number is said to be abstract, but when the denomina-
tion is specified, it is said to be concrete.

Since quantity may be represented by numbers, and are always
supposed to b« so in Algebra, the letters denote numbers, and in the
theory of Algebra, the letters have no numerical value, so that they
represent any number or quantity, that is, f moral or abstract (quantity.

Theoretic Algebra investigates the properties of abstract quantities,
and the rules of Algebraical computation, and practical Algebra is
concerned in the solution of questions in which the given (puiutities
either have ])articular values, or may have such values assigned.

In Algebra as in Geometry, there are two kinds of propositions,
Theorems and Problems. In a theorem, it is proposed to demonstrate
some stated relation or property of numbers or absti'act (juan titles. —
In a problem, the object is to find the value of some unknown quantity
or numbers, by means of given relations existing between them and
other known numbers and quantities.

This branch is perhaps the most important of all the mathematical
sciences and its elements ought to be taught at a much earlier period
than is generally done. The following is a summary of its benelits :

1. It is of the highest practical utility, and not as some seem to
imagine a purely theoretical exercise. And in proof of this, it may be
stated, — 1st. That it establishes the properties and the relations of
numbers by general reasoning. 2nd. That it investigates and estab-
lishes the rules of Arithmetic so that any one who understands it has
not only a clearer comprehension of Arithmetic, but, if need be, is vastly
more competent to teach it. 3i'd. That it enables us to make valuable
discoveries both in reference to the powers of number and (^[uantity.

2. There are few branches of study so admirably fitted to improve
and discipline our intellectual powers, treating, as it f^oes, of numbers
in the abstract, and employing characters without any risk of ambiguity.

Writing. If it is desirable that we acquire the art of reading to
increase our stock of knowledge from whatever quarter it come, it is
not less so, that we retain the knowledge we have got, whetlier that is
the result of our own observation and reflection, or that of others. To
retain it within de compass of our own understanding and memory

ART ©F ET>TJCAT»©N.

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were vastly the most satisfactory method, but for this, our finite capac-
ities are utterly 'nadequate ; and hence the inconceivable value of
the art of writing, so as to give permanence to thoughts the most
transcendent, and endurance to facts, or truths, or discoveries which
would otherwise be speedily obliterated from the tablets of our
memory. By means of this art, we are provided with a kind of ready-
reckoner, by which we can summon back to our mind any fact or
thought long ago effaced, and render it available for the present emer-
gency ; by which we can transmit, as by a winged messenger, the
products of our investigations or explorations to the most distant lands,
so that they all but obtain the property of ubiquity ; and by which,
too, we can hand down for the benefit of generations unborn the
additions made to useful knowledge in every succeeding age. What a
boon this, especially when wo take into account the facilities added,
both by the cheap manufacture of paper and the invention of printing !

But, again, writing must also be regarded in its indirect benefits.
When properly taught it cultivates and improves the taste. It is in
reality a species of drawing — of linear drawing, and in this character
it necessarily levies a tribute upon our imitative powers. We must
for this purpose have as perfect a moii. 1 as possible set before us, and
we must continue our work until we arrive at the highest proficiency.
This naturally improves our taste, and imparts an ease and command
in the use of the pencil.

But still further, writing is a mechanical art, and involves certain
principles, which it is the bounden duty of the skilful teacher to
explain. Every art has certain element" or [>rinciides, and so hp.s
penmanship. In more recent times, these principles or elements have
claimed a much larger share of attention, in consequence of which
penmanship has been elevated to a much more commanding platform,
cultivating as it now does the faculties of memory, of attention, and of
the understanding.

Every pains should therefore be taken in the acquisition of this
art, every means used to see that the penmanship of the rising gene-
ration be plain and legible, that it serve the end intended. Cor-
rectness is the first essential requisite, — correctness in point ot form,
distance and inclination ; expedition will follow in due course. How
all this may be effected in strict consistency with our system so
that the mechanical and the intellectual shall be combined, will fall to
be considered in a subsequent part of our course. Suffice it now
«imply to state that teachers of all grades and classes should be deeply
impressed with the conviction that this is no minor or indifferent brancii

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of education, ami that, from the fiict of the acciuircmcnt tlepending .sg-
much oil the principle of imitation, it is indispensably necessary that
they themselves aim at high proficiency therein.

D-fawiag and Paintiiiy, or Fonu and Colour Drawing. Already
luis it heeii answered vvliy tliere ai"e comparatively so few of tlie
human ftimily, w^lio really see and appreciate tJie beauties and graces
that reign in the world of nature around them. It is not because there
is no innate sense whereby they may discern these graces, but purely
because this sense has^ not been cultivated, lu\s been allowed to lie iu
a condition of total dormancy, nothing having been done for its whetting
or imi)rovement. This is doubtless wrong in reference to any faculty
or sensibility that the mercifid Creator lias bestowed upon us, but it is
specially so in reference to- the emotion of beauty, seeing that its culti-
vation contributes so largely to our elevation and refmement, aud
atiects so deeply uur varied relations and tendencies. But in order
to di'aw out and duvelc^J) this seasibility, to do anything like justice
to its. universal existence, either in greater or lesser measure, it muot
be taught in oiu" sclijools, it must form one of the branches of a
coimnon, school education. It is somewhat akin to music. The sooner
the ear is brought into contact with melody the more likely will the
love of this art be awakened. And so it is with Drawing. The
reasons why it should be considered and treated as a distinct branch of
education are the following:

1. It opens up to the possessor inmmierable sources of gratification
and delight. AVherever he roams, in whatever field of nature he may
liappen to move, he sees, in every fresh object presented to his view,
beauties aud attractions that excite his interest, his warmest admira-
tion and praise.

2. The general diffusion of the development of ajsthctic faculties,
would extensively promote a nation's happiness au'l usefulness, and
especially if that nation happens to bo largely employed in manufac-
tures and commerce. It would impart such a general appreciation of
the beautiful in nature and art, tliat could not fail to elevate and
refine their minds, and thereby lift them far above those low and grov-
eling pleasures in which they are so prone to indulge.

o. It so cultivates and whets the senses, especially the sense of sight,
as that not only deeper impressions but more vivid conceptions of the
external object are presented and represented to the mind. This
gives a clearness and force to our id'^-^s of the utmost possible value
to all our- mental processes of analys*. coid syntkesis, and enables us,

ART OF EDUCATION.

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at the siiuio time, to cxpross our thouglits with a precision and simpli-
city and cogency whicli no soi)hi.stry can arrest or misconstrue.

4. A practical application of the graces that abound in tin; world of
nature, cannot fail to awaken and keep alivo most impressive views of
the wisdom, power and goodness of the all-glorious Creator.

Ihoh-kci'piiig. Though this is the last of the indirect branches of
study which we intend to notice, it is not by any means the least
imjjortant. It is indeed frequently imagined that this branch requircis
to be taught only to thos<( who mean to prosecute the mercantile call-
ing. This is a great mistake. A thorough knowledge of Book-keeping,
botli in theory and practice, is indispensably' necessary to the mer-
chant, but though it may not be so to others, it is to all highly advan-
tiigtious, whether engaged in mechanical, agricultural or professional
em[)loyments ; at all events, sucli a knowledge of it as shall sulficc for
tlie recording of their daily transactions, of their income and expendi-
ture, whether that be in si)ecie or value, in physical or mental effort.
And all this for the following reasons :

1. Because we are bound to see that we owe no man anything but
love. The duty which lies at the foundation, and which indeed
pervades the whole of the commandments of the second table of the
law, is, justice, righteousness, giving to every one bis due. This can
only be done by scrupulous care tliat our expenditure does not
exceed our income ; and how can this be done but by calling ourselves
to a strictly periodical account of the state of our affairs ? This is
obligatory upon all, and for this a certain knowledge of Book-keeping
is required. It is a fundamental rule in ethics, and a rule whose
observance never fails sooner or later to bring its own reward, that
we never go beyond our income, however limited that income may be.

2. Because the daily record of our trausactions stimulates to
industry and frugality. It is a well understood law in economics, that
the individual who has anything laid up in store, possesses the strongest
desire to add to it ; and the gratification of this desire renders him all
the more industrious and saviufj. Nothing but a constant reckon-
ing with himself, a careful inspection of the debit and credit side of
his cash book, will s cure thia desirable end.

3. Because it will promote order and neatness in all our arrange-
ments ; and this will operate beneficially upon our activity and load us
to combine caution and care with all our undertakings.

4. Because we are laid under the most solemn obligation to devote
a certain proportion of our means or substance to benevolent and relig-
ious objects. "VVe cannot be iu a position to deal fairly with such au

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application of our means unless we know accurately our profits and
losses, and this can only be done by systematic Book-keeping.

Section II. — Embracing those branches which principally

IMPART knowledge.

In proceeding to the consideration of those branches on which we
mainly depend for information, it is scarcely necessary to premise that,
by such a division of the branches of knowledge, it is not intended to
convey the impression that there is none imparted by the study of
those branches we have just discussed. All that is implied is, that
this is not their direct or main object in the educational process, hut
that it is to furnish the best means and methods of acquiring knowledge.
Neither is it to be supposed, that in this second department on which
we now enter, there is nothing done either to discipline the mind, or
to impart greater skill and dexterity in the use of means and methods.
All that is meant is that, whilst these are not by any means neglected,
the grand aim is the communication of knowledge in the best possi-
ble form. We begin with

Oral Lessons. This is comparatively a novel branch of education ;
and being, in our apprehension, one of paramount importance, both for
the imparting of knowledge and the development of mind, it demands
our earliest and fullest consideration. It is, in fact, neither more nor
less than giving a shape and a systematic form to the great principle
pervading the whole of the science of education, viz., exercise, which, if
faithfully followed out, would produce a complete revolution in every
department of our theme. Generally regarded, an Oral Lesson is just
instruction delivered by word-of-mouth, and not read from any written
composition. Educationally regarded, however, the expression has
received a peculiar and a more extensive application, both as it respects
the subject-matter introduced and the mode of discussing it. In
reference to the former, its specific object is to bring before the minds
of the rising generation a large amount of information regarding things
and pursuits with whose appearance they are familiar, but with whose
structure, or parts, or qualities, or application, or origin, or history, or
relations, or benefits, they know little or nothing ; in all which things
they are deeply interested, and to the exposition or explanation of
which they give the deepest possible attention, as most directly bearing
both on their present interests and their future usefulness. In refer-
ence to the latter, or the way in which this knowledge is communicated,
the expression before us, as applied to education, has a still more
peculiar or special acceptation. It repudiates and denounces the

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267

olil-fashioned style of conveying knowledge in the shape of a continu-
ous oral address on the part of the teacher, and of simple listening on
the part of the scholars. It is equally opposed to a series or succes-
sion of questions and answers, the questions, as usual, put by the
teacher and the answers given by pupils. Its grand aim in impart-
ing knowledge, is to operate upon and develop mind, and accordingly
the teacher puts questions to ascertain what the pupils know ; what
they do liot know, he tells them, and what they know, he allows
them to relate ; and, when it is desirable to make applications, or to
draw inferences, he encourages them still to carry on the subject. In
one v/ord, the grand object of the teacher is to train and not to teach.
An Oral Lesson, then, is neither a lecture, nor a series of questions
and answers, but a colloquy or conversation between the teacher and
taught, carried on by questions and answers, and ellipses.

There are two distinct classes or sorts of Oral Lessons, originating
iu the mode in which they are given, viz.: — 1st. Object-Oral Lessons,
and 2ud. Word-painting Oral Lessons — the one being addressed to
the perceptive, and the other to a diversity of faculties — the one being
more in accordance with the Pestalozzian, and the other with the
Stow or Training system. The object-lesson, again, may be regarded
iu a two-fold aspect, first, as the cultivator and strengthener of all the
senses, adapted mainly for the young, and, secondly, as the hand-maid
of brighter views or deeper impressions on any one subject or object,
and this for persons of all ages. The word-picture oral lessons may
also be subdivided into those that are figurative and those that are
literal, meaning by the former those that convey thought through a
ligure of speech, either an allegory, or parable, or similitude, or meta-
phor ; and, by the latter, where the picture must be made ; and this is
most easily done by using the exterior or natural for the interior, or
moral, or spiritual, and holding vp these as pictures to the mind.
These kinds of oral lessons will be fully elaborated under the mode.

Sahjeets of Oral Lessons. It has been already noticed that whilst
any subject or branch of education may be presented to the young
by means of oral lessons, there is a class of subjects regarded by
educationists as the more peculiar province of these lessons.

The class to which we now refer consists of all those objects or
things with which the young have been perfectly familiar from the
very commencement of their observational existence, but with whose
iiature, properties, relations and history, they are entire strangers.
They have been accustomed to look at, to handle, and to use these
objects every day, and every hour of the day for very important pur-

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poses, but beyond their mere external qnalities or habits, or their
general usefulness, they literally know nothing. Let these objects,
however, form the theme of investigation and discussion, let their
nature be explained and their properties and relations pointed out,
and they listen with the greatest attention and earnestness, and that
just because they are profoundly interested therein. This is the class
of subjects that more specially falls under the category of oral lessons.
And surely no one can fail to perceive the vast utility, the transceiul-
ent importance of these topics. It is a great achievement to rivet
the attention, to secure the earnest application of the mental energies
of the young to any one topic. It is greater still to have the oppor-
tunity of expounding to them the properties and relations, the princi-
ples and laws of those very objects and pursuits with which they are
most familiar, and which, in all probability, they will be viewing,
and handling, and grasping, and combining, the remainder of tlieir
days. But it is the greatest of all triumphs so to arouse and direct
the mental and moral energies of the rising generation, so to train
them to habits of application in the use of these energies, that their
reflective powers are expanded and developed, and rendered capable
of investigating and scrutinizing any object or subject that may, during
their future career, come within the range of their enquiries. But we
cannot follow any longer this strain of remark. It is more to our
purpose that we go into particulars regarding these topics them-
selves. Here, as usual, in accordance with our system, we begin
with those that are dearest and nearest, with those that are best
known, and proceed to those that are more remote or unkno^Mi.
so that the latter may be reached and explained by the former. The
way of discussing these subjects will of course depend on the state of
intellectual development of the class or party exercised. The percep-
tive power, as is well known, lies at the foundation of all mental
activity, and is the first developed. The first stage, then, of Oral
Lessons, should be mainly directed to the cultivation of the senses,
and should have those objects presented to them which are suit-
able and congenial to their nature. This, then, is the stage which
demands tlie greatest number of Object Oral Lessons by whicli the
senses may be respectively cultivated, and thereby more vivid con-
ceptions of external objects in all their properties and qualities
impressed upon the mind. Our knowledge of the external world, of
its objects and pursuits, has not advanced far, when the mind evinces
a disposition to trace the relations between one thing and anotlior, to
point out resemblances and differences, to apprehend analogies in tlie

ART OF EDUCATION.

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various departments of knowledge ; and what is this but the faculty of
the Imagination beginning to exhibit itself and to send forth its cry for
materials or food ? This, then, constitutes the second stage iu Oral
Lessons, and it is in this department where word-painting comes most
fully into operation. The same class of objects may be again employ-
nil, with a higher exercise of mind, even the faculty of simple
generalization and imagination. "We can now take a synthetical view
of any subject or series of subjects, and from certain data called pre-
mises, the mind can deduce certain conclusions. This is the highest
exorcise of the human mind, its combining power, and has very appro-
priately had assigned to it the third .'■.tage in these Oral Lessons.
Tlie very same subjects may be taken iu all the stages, and treated
iu such a way as to be in complete adaptation to the intellectual
development of any one stage. We may take, for example, a plant
or an animal for each stage ; and, under the first stage, call attention
to the various parts palpable to our observation ; and, under the second,
trace the relations subsisting between its parts, or between it and any
other object ; and, under the third, point out the place it holds in
the system, with its various uses or applications, and all for the purpose
of exercising our reflective powers. But whilst this may be done, it
will be found more satisfactory and more interesting to have separate
lists of subjects for each stage.

SECULAR SUBJECTS.
Stage 1st. — Primary. 1. Articles of food ; 2. Of dress; 3. Of furni-
ture ; 4. Common trades in the locality ; 5. If country schools, the
various pursuits of the farmer, if town, the manufiictures, &c. ; G. The
most common domestic operations ; 7. The different sorts of shops in
the neighbourhood with their respective materials ; 8. Common plants
growing in gardens, bushes, and trees ; 9. Common animals ; 10.
Miscellaneous list of common things, such as cleanliness of person,
inmctuality, its advantages, &c.

Stage 2nd. — Juoejiile or Intermediate. As the perceptive faculty is
mainly exercised in the first stage, so here the principle of com-
parison, by which the relations are traced between one part and ano-
ther in the same object, or between one object and another. Hence it
IS clear, that the very same subjects may be taken up, at least, such of
them as furnish good material for the exercise of the priuciple of
v'omparison.

Compare, 1. The cow and the sheep; 2. The elephant and camel ;
3. Hen and duck ; 4. Cat and dog ; 5. Lion and tiger ; 6. Sloth and

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hedge-hog ; 7. Hare and partridge, habits, means of defence ; 8. Mole
and beaver ; 9. Teeth of a cow with those of a beaver ; 10. Modes by
which animals defend themselves; 11. The different and more promi-
nent parts of the human body ; 12. The manufacture of salt from sea
water and other salt ; 13. Glass, of what composed, and how manufec-
tured, and so with paper, soap, gunpowder, candles, leather, &c. ; 14.
Smoke, how consumed ; 15. Evaporation, what is it, and how caused;
1 G. Sheep's wool, why different in texture, in different countries, advan-
tages of this to the animal and manufactures ; 17. Clothes, of what use :
would certain sorts be equally suitable in all climates ; 18. Perspiration,
sensible and insensible — picture out uses; 19. Compare weaving and
sewing — felted cloth with woven cloth ; 20. Compare lead and iron —
<iualities and particular uses of each — beat iron and cast iron, screw,
pulley and saw ; 21. Flesh of the different animals used as food, viz.,
beef, mutton, lamb, pork, venison, fish and fowl ; 22. Clay, sand, lime,
and other soils ; 23. Compare needle-making and pen-making with
their different forms and uses ; 24. Comparative use of roots, barks,
stems and leaves of plants ; 25. The distinction between boiling, roasting
and stewing; 26. Yarn and thread, picture out the process of making
each; 27. Warp and woof, should there be any distinction in
strength, &c.

Stage Srd. — High School. This stage has a special reference to the
training of the reasoning powers and to the inferring of consequences
from premises laid down. This is well pnt by Smith in his " Prize
Essay on Education." " By books the pupil can never be properly
exercised in reasoning. As conclusion and premises follow one another,
both of them being placed before the reader, he is under great tempta-
tion to assume both on equal authority. Hence the means must be used
in the first instance to induce him to draw inferences which he has not
thought of beforehand. Some men entirely unexercised in reasoning,
know just as much as they are told in plain language, or as they can
perceive by their senses ; but all men of oi'dinary capacity are able to
acquire the power of concluding something involved in what is sensible,
and deducing inferences from the information communicated to them.
We would set out in lessons of this sort, from something which the
pupil knows, or which can be made patent and palpable to his senses,
and go on from simple processes to more difficult, the complex con-
ceptions thus acquired forming the components of new reasonings."

The subjects here should be of a much higher and more systematic
description, with special reference to their practical application, the
pupils themselves drawing the inferences. Every lesson here should

ART OF EDUCATION.

271

aim at turaing the attention of the pupils to an examination of tlnose
phenomena that meet them in their daily life. Of course the train of
reasoning here will be much longer than in any previous subjects.

Natural Science. *

\st. Mineral kingdom. Metals ; properties, process of manufacture,
and uses to mankind. Rocks ; kinds, crystals, clay and soil. Fossil
remains of plants and animals. Coal ; its formation, manner of deposit,
varieties, association with iron ore, manufacture of coal gas, gas works.
Salt ; as found in mines, and manufactured from sea water or salt
springs, its general distribution in nature, and valuable qualities.
Sulphur ; its properties, what kind of countries principally found in.

2nd. Vegetable kingdom. DilFerence between plants and minerals,
vegetable life. Tissues of plants. Organs ; root, stem, leaf, flower,
seed. Nutrition of plants. Flow of sap. Distribution of plants.
Of development of plants. How plants of all climates may be found
iu same latitudes.

ord. Animal kingdom. Difference of vegetable and animal life.
Tissues of animals. Skin ; nature, functions. Bones ; composition,
uses. Muscles. Nerves. Digestion. Flow of blood in veins and
arteries. Respiration. Difference of air inhaled and exhaled. Man
fitted to inhabit all climes, &c.

Physical Sciknce.

1st. Properties of bodies. What essential, what secondary Proper-
ties. Different forms of attraction.

2)id. Mechanics. Laws of motion. Mechanicalinstruments. Lexers,
practical example of wheel and axle. Pulleys, advantages of. In-
clined plane. Wedge. Screw.

3rd. Fluids, at rest and in motion.

ith. Pneumatics. — ffeat, Optics, Acoustics, Magnetism, Electricity.
Pressure of atmosphere. Air pump. Common pump. Forcing
pump. Fire engine. Philosophy of draughts. Evil effects of
prevention. Heat, communication of heat, conduction, radiation,
absorption. What kind of clothes most suitable for summer and
winter wear. Expansion and contraction. Thermometer. Lique-
faction. Vaporization. Elasticity of steam. Steam engine. Light.
Reflection and refraction of light. Description of the eye. Uses of
spectacles. Telescope. Microscope. Magic lantern. Effects of
light on vegetation. Various sources of artificial light. Its mode
of travelling and wherein different from that of sound. Colours,

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blo.ac'iiing. Mirrors. Concentration of heat and light. "Prisms. —
Burning glasses. The daguerotypo. Sound, how produced and
conveyed. Echoes. Bells. Speaking trumpet. Magnetism. Dis-
covery. Properties. Polarity. Earliest use as indicating cardi-
nal points. Mariner's compass. Electricity. Its name. Electrics,
and non-electrics. Various means of collecting it. Electrical conduc-
tors and non-conductors, insulators, leyden jars, ordinary electrical
machine — identity of electricity with lightning, lightning conductors,
effect when discharged into vegetaldes and animals — tlnmdor, how
produced. Galvanism — Its discovery and origin of name, connection
between galvanistn, electricity and magnetism, construction and i)rinci-
ple of the galvanic battery, effect on animal bodies — its application as
a med. :'al agent — principle and arrangement of the electric telegraph.

Anatomy and Physiology.

Human body and its health. Head. Trunk of body. Legs. Arms.
Hand. Eye. Ears. Hair on head. Circulation of blood. The

heart. Lungs.

Liver. Stomach. Bowels. Nerves. Nose. Tongue.

The human brain. Perspiration, sensible and insensible. Philosophy
of exercise, of washing the skin of the whole body, of sleeping. Effect
of cold feet on health, &c.

Mind.

Outlines of Psychology and Ethics. Various powers of intellect,
various emotions, will. Ethics — man a moral being — relation to God
— relation to man — duties therefrom.

Apparatus necessary for these Lessons. 1. Gutta percha tube. 2.
Glass tumbler, o. A x lorence flask. 4. A water-hammer. 5. Glass
globe with tube attached. C. Glass syphon. 7. Glass tubes. 8.
Barometer and Thermometer. S). Prism. 10. Gonigraph. 11.
Ilorse-shoe magnet and couple of bar-maguets. 12. A magnetic needle
balanced on a simple stand. K. A magnetic and index needle. 14.
Electric machine. 15. A microscope. IG. Air pump. 17. Magic
lantern. 18. Specimens of raiuei'als, plants, animals, &c.

RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS.
Havin^' thus pointed out the subjects of the different stages in the
secular department, it may not be improper if we refer briefly to those
in the religious. The stages and the modes of imparting, here, are
exactly the same as in the preceding. The subjects of course are dif-
ferent, but though they are, they ought to bo selected in adaptation to

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the (leveloptnen:, of the intellectual powers, on the same principle as
the above.

Stage 1st. The first stage shoHld embrace Bible stories, taken eitlier
Trom the Old or New Testament, according to circumstances. Tlie
teacher may desire to correct a species of naughtiness or rudeness, or
any particular sin tliat may pTevafl among the scliolars, or to elevate
their notions and appreciation of any virtue, and lie accordingly selects
the story, wliere the one or the other of these is exhibited. Such a story
should always be presented in pictorial form, or else it will prove a
failure, but 'of tlirs more anon. And so with the truth embodied and
the lesson tang"ht. The otlier subjects here are emblems and pre-
cepts of lihe jJainest, the simplest, and most familiar cliaracter. The
emblem should always have the natural picture of an object, or thing,
tliat tl>e youngest children are acquainted with, and they will be able to
deduce tlie lesson. Tlie precept, too, should always be accompanied
with some story whether true or feigned— whether from BiMe or our
own observation and experience. Here the teacher must strive after
an adaptation to circumstances.

Stage 2nd, The emblem and precept are continued, though, of
course, more details are presented. Tlie Bible narrative, too, is
also continued, but moio consecutive, or, in otlier words, presented
in historical form, both with <lates and naaies of places or sacred geo-
graphy. The principal new subject here introduced, are tlie doctrines
of Christianity, and tJiesc arrartgetl, of course, in systematic form. In
public schools no ■ecclesiastical catechism, where these doctrines are
systematically arranged, ean be introd«ced. This may •do in a congre-
gational Sabbath School, but in a public week-day school they are
inadmissible. But these doctrine*, with the headings of Sin and Sal-
vation, could be cast into a systematic form by passages of the Bible,
with the simplest title of the doctrine. In this way a smaller or larger
system of doctrine may be very easily constructed, beginning with the
analytical form instead of the synthetical, as in general CoiifessionL
or Catechisms.

Stage 3rd. Here all the preceding are continued, though carried to
a much higher minutia; of detail. Other exercises may be intrc
duced. Some of the more important of Paul's epistles, such as 1
one to the Hebrews or the Romans, should be tlioroughly studied
and committed to memory. — Connection between the Old and New
Testament.-— The subject of fulfilled prophecy, ' wish and Oriental
antiquities, &c.

Uses of Oral Lessons. The value of these lest if properly and

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judiciously conducted, is inconceivable, both in inii^artiug knowledgp
and in disciplining mind. Tlieir peculiar benefits are the tolTowing :

1. They impart useful knowledge. The channels by Avhich know-
ledge is imparted are many and diversified. Each, in the estimation of
its advocates, has its own 8i>ecial advantages. "VVe claim for Oral Lessons
the highest and most marked. 1st. Because they strikingly combine
the practical with the theoretical, both in things secular and sacred.
2nd. Because the knowledge acquired is more likely to be retained
for two reasons ; — it is, much of it at least, our own manufacture, that
is, got by the dint of our observant or reflective faculties, — it is presented
to the mind through the medium of visible or tangible objects, or illus-
trative analogies.

2. They excite an insatiable desire far more knowledge, both in
reference to what is already deposited in the mind, and all kindred
topics, as well as all other kinds.

3. They develop and strengthen mind for future application and
work.

4. Tliey awaken a spirit of enquiry into the cause of things, and
especially into the rationale of common things.

5. They generate an inventive spirit, even amongst common trades-
men and labourers.

6. They raise the mechanic above the mere machine, and the far-
mer above the clod-hopper.

7. They turn all education into a practical and profitable bearing.

8. They make man not only in theory but in practice a thinking
being.

9. They combine the specula'tive, the active, and the moral powers
of our nature into one resplendent, harmonious whole.

10. Tliey fit and qualify for the investigation and study of the cha-
racter and attributes of Duty.

Geoyraphy. In so far as the matter of information is concerned,
this is perhaps the most comprehensive, as it is the most important
and interesting of all the branches of learning. It is only but as yes-
terday that it has made its escape from the prison house in which it
had been so long confined. For a long period, even as a branch of
education, it was considered to consist merely of a catalogue of names
of mountains and rivers, of countries, of capitals, and of towns ; and he
was considered to be a geographer of no ordinary celebrity, who could
recite these with fluency, or tell for what they were noteworthy. But
not only did the whole excellency of this branch consist in the nomen-
clature of places and things, that nomenclature was a pure rote or

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memoriter process, not only destitute of all associating ties or links,
but without anything to invest it with intelligence or interest, and, as
we shall see in course, taught in the most irrational way, conducting the
bcholar not from tlio known to the unknown, but from the unknown
to the known. No branch of learning has undergone a more thorough
revolution in these modern times, whether we look at its extent or
its mode of teaching. Now, it permits us to range at will both
throughout the works of God and man, from the most minute to the
most grand and sublime, from the most secular to the most ethereal
and spiritual, from what is visible to what is invisible, from what is
transporting around us, back to the most remote epoch in the history
of our planet. There is scarcely a science or an art upon which it
does not levy a tribute, or call in to its succour and advancement. It
has to do, and to do most extensively, both with the science of Astro-
nomy and of Geology, the one ranging throughout the illimitable
bounds of space, and the other diving into the very depths of the most
remote antiquity. It rcums at will throughout the various departments
of Natural Philosophy and Science, availing itself of the great princi-
; ' s and laws that reign in the world of physics, whilst it garnishes
itself with substances both inorganic and organic, from the pebble in
the brook up to the most beautiful and most complicated of animal
existences. But it takes a higher platform still. It looks at man in
all the aspects in which he can be exhibited to us individually and
socially, as connected with the world of matter and of spirit, as the
denizen of the present scene and controlling all its movements and
operations, and as an expectant of a higher sphere of being, and in
course of preparation for its enjoyments.

But the extent of the range now opened up by this branch of know-
ledge, is but a subordinate part of the improvements that have been
effected. The whole subject is regarded in its dependences, relations,
and adaptations, so that the Almighty Creator and Preserver is seen
to be acting out one grand system, and all for the instruction, elevation,
and happiness of the human family. Here we are compelled to study
the relations subsisting between the solar system and our world, or
between Astronomy and Geology, and that for the purpose of account-
ing for phenomena every day and every hour presented to our view,
and which, from the very condition of things, must have been in
operation ages gone by, as well as at present. Here, too, we are
required to study the various, and yet complicated, relations and
dependences that obtain throughout the departments of the kingdom
of nature, the dependence of the organic on the inorganic, of the-

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vegetable on the mineral, and of the animal on the vegetable. Here,
especially, are we required to trace the relations between man and
his surroundings, the influence of his external circumstances on his
internal state, of the physical on the intellectual, and these both indi-
vidually and collectively. But we may, and ought to advance a step
higher still, and contemplate man a-s the subject of moral government,
tbo relation subsisting between the dispensations of Providence and
the body politic. In one word, this branch of learning is now prose-
cuted in connection with its causes and effects, and whilst it imparts
valuable and useful knowledge, it exercises almost all the intel-
lectual and moral powers of our nature. In accordanc( vith these
wide and extensive views of our subject, various subdivi lons have
been given. Perhaps the plainest and most palpable division is into
Secular and Sacred, then Ancient and Modern, next Natural and
Artificial, and, last of all, into Mathematical, Physical, Political and
Historical.

But there is another division of still greater importance, though
perhaps more appropriately belonging to the next chapter, we mean
the Oral, or the Elementary, and Systematic. One of the most
remarkable and interesting features of this branch is that, whilst it
furnishes material for the loftiest genius and the highest attainments,
it is at the same time capable of being taught to the youngest scholar,
and taught in perfect adaptation to the stage of development of his
intellectual powers. Indeed, there is not perhaps one single branch
of learning so completely adapted to every stage of developmeni.
This, however, requires such an acquaintance with the nature of
the recipient, and such a thorough familiarity with itself, as are
but rarely met with on the part of the most pk'lful teacher. The
whole of the elementary parts of Geography may be taught to the
primary department through the medium of objects with which the
children are perfectly familiar, such as the hills or mountains, as
represented by the rising ground ; the rivers, by streams at hand ; the
lakes, by pools, «&c., and these can be either drawn on the black-board
or exhibited on a map.

The benefits which flow from the study of Geography are many and
valuable. After what has been said, a simple enumeration is all that
is necessary.

1. It imparts valuable information in the most impressible form,
even through pictorial representations.

2. It makes us acquainted with the laws of the heavenly bodies,
the planetary system, as well as with the general laws of the system

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of the universe, in connection with the practical application of physi-
cal science and mathematics.

3. It conveys accurate information regarding the resources and
capabilities of any country, whether in agriculture, mining, manufac-
ture, or in commercial pursuits.

4. It provides statistical data by which we may form a fair estimate
of the character of any nation, its responsibilities, its immunities and
its probable destiny.

5. It enables us generally to comprehend what is going on among
the nations of the earth, through the usual channels.

History. This, as well as the preceding branch of knowledge, is oidy
beginning to occupy the positic i to which its importance entitles it.
Just as Geography was at one time considered, as all but synonymous
with topography, so was this with chronology. And that individual
was laua as the greatest adept in history, who could recite with
fluency the battles fought during some particular epoch in the history
of the world, repeat the dates of the commencement and termination
of the reign of the various sovereigns in any one country, their pedi-
grees, their individual history, &c. More enlightened and befitting
views are now beginning to gain sway. History is no longer regarded
merely as a record of events or of facts, but of their causes or effects,
or of events and facts in connection with the principles whence they
emanated. But we take still higher ground, and maintain that History
is neither more nor less than a record of the dealings of Providence
with a nation or nations, with the effect of these dealings as expressed
iu the words and deeds of that nation. These dealings must be
regarded not as the hap-hazard occurrences of chance, but as the ful-
filment of the Almighty's decrees or determinations, for the accomplish-
ment of high and important purposes. Every event then happens in
accordance with the will of an over-ruling Providence. Every indi-
vidual, however humble or exalted, but plays his part in the great
drama of life, — whether he knows it or not. The history of a nation,
then, or any particular period, or epoch, or event thereof, is the
representation in so many verbal statements of the effect of these
dealings. And where are the materials for such a representation to
be got ? They are to be gathered from a great variety of sources.
We cannot penetrate the human mind or read the thoughts that are
passing through it, but we can gather what these thoughts are from
the sayings and doings of every day life, and still more from that
nation's acting in some important crisis or conjuncture. These are
preserved and handed down from one generation to another, in the

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writings of the time, the architecture, the sculpture, and the fine arts,
in the various observances both civil and sacred, in the amusements,
pastimes, pursuits, &c. From these we arrive at just conclusions
respecting the character, the views and sentiments, the principles and
motives, the aims and ends, of the nation or people at large, or any
particular party or individual.

Divisions have been assigned to History, diversified according to the
object contemjilated iii that history. If it regards man in his spiritual
or religious character, it is designated Ecclesiastical History ; or, if it
regards him in his temporal or social character, Civil History. If it
is contemplated in its general aspects, inclusive of all the character-
istics of the human species, all the nations upon earth, from the most
remote period of authentic records to the present time, it is generally
subdivided into Ancient and Modern, the former coming down to the
birth of Christ, and the latter thence to the present day. Sometimes
it is more minutely subdivided into Ancient, Mediaival and Modern,
the first conducting us from the most remote period of authentic
history to the tiall of the Roman Empire ; the second thence to the
commencement of the Reformation, and the third thence down to the
present time. Besides these there are several varied subdivisions.
When the history is limited to any one particular nation, such as that
of Britain, it is called the History of Britain, and when it extends to
all nations, it is called Universal History.

This branch of knowledge is of surpassing importance, as may be
specified under the following heads : — 1. History is of great utility,
because of the nature of the knowledge it imparts ; as from the lessors
of the past, we may obtain suitable directions for the future. 2. The
knowledge which history imparts is still of greater value when the
effects are studied in connection with their causes or vice versa, and
principles in connection with the facts evolved. 3. It is of still greater
benefit to the young, inasmuch as it unfolds facts or truths, by exam-
ple; and, therefore, as a moulding or transforming branch of education,
peculiarly adapted to them, as more under the influence of the imita-
tive princip'e of our being. Indeed, next to religion itself, there is no
branch of knowledge, better fitted to awaken attention and mould and
fashion character, provided the teacher uses all diligence in holding
up to the execration of his pupils, whatever is blameworthy in the
hero of the narrative, on the one hand, or whatever is commendable,
on the other. This, of course, implies, on the part of the teacher, not
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mind completely mad ^ up on the conduct of the different parties intro-
<luced, and on the nati're of the events themselves.

4. History is, abov ^ all, beneficial, inasmuch as it brings us into

contact with the inner life of o\ir fellow-creatures, points out the effect

<ju their minds of a certain procedure in the divine economy, and

hereby enables us to studj man in relation to the higher destinies of

his being.

Natural Science. By this branch of knowledge we are simply to
understand the classification of all the objects in the world of nature,
both inorganic and organic. It differs from natural philosophy, whose
business and province it is, to observe the phenomena existing in the
material world, to investigate the principles and laws on which these
phenomena depend, and carefully to study their practical application.
This branch differs also from natural history, which has respect
merely to the external structure and habits of the object, depend-
ing m;)on and deriving all its information from the observational
faculties ; whereas Natural Science adds to this, the examination of
the internal structure by the aid of the scalpel or anatomical knife.
It must be seen with a glance that this is one of the most extensive
subjects or branches of education we have yet touched, and involves
the consideration and examination of the following sciences, viz. :
Chemistry, IVrineralog}', Botany, Zoology and Geology. It must not
be supposed, hoAvever, that in introducing this branch of knowledge
into our schools, we pretend to make any encroachment on the
province or prerogatives of collegiate institutions. We are decidedly
of opinion that instruction should be given in this department almost,
if not entirely, fi*ee of technicalities, and principally in .the shape of
oral objective lessons. With this limitation and exjjlauation, it may
be begun at a very early period in the history of the education of the
young. Every child lias a natural desire to obtain some knowledge
of the gold, or silver, or copper, or lead, or iron, he has so often seen,
and handled, or of the rose bush he has so often admired and smelt, or
of the mouse, and cat, and dog which have yielded to him such a fund
of amusement and gratification. And what is aU this but an apprtency
for this branch of knowledge in its more simplified forms ? It is, of
course, in every way desirable, that tlue teacher possess a scientific
knowledge of each of these departments, but it were the very excess
of pedantry, if not the very height of folly, to bring them in this shape
before the minds of their pupils. No one can teach witli accuracy
without such a knowledge ; and yet the utmost vigilance must be
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ill their consideration as distinct sciences. Of course, it fs perfectly
allowable in the more advanced classes in any school establishment^
or in Grammar schools,, ar Academies, to go mjore thoroughly into
detail, and to observe greater continuity in the discusson of the- objects-
under each department ; but even then, every effort must be made to
avoid, except in cases of extreme necessity, all technicalities ; and,
when necessity compels, these should be pictured out, so that the pupils
shall have a distinct apprehension of the ideas couched and'er them.

The grand distinction to be mad'o in bringing the subjects embraced
under tliese branches of Natural Science before the different stages or
degrees of a<T\'ancement in scholars, must rest, not so much on the
subjects themselves, as on the mode in which they are presented and'
discnssed. But this falls mider teaching department.

The study of Natural Science, when prosecuted aright, and in adap-
tation to the various stages of the development of mind, cannot fail to
be productive of immense benefit during all the future career of the
recipients. It communicates knowledge of great practical utility iu
almost every sphere and pursuit of Kfe. It imparts enlightened views-
to the house-wife- in all culinary operations, for all cooking is less or
more the application of chemistry. To the agriculturist — the fisher-
man — the tradesman — the merchant — the capitalist — it gives that
information which is capable of being reduced to large actual gaiu,
both on the score of income and economy. To the physician, it is of
great use, both in the department of disease and remedy, or of pathol-
ogy and therapentics, enabling him. to become better acquainted w\0
the human frame, and to adapt his application thereto with still greater
skill and success^ To the theologian, and,, especially, to the missionary
among the heathen, it is of eqnal, if not of greater advantage, for
imparting a dear ai>prehension of the figurative language of scripture,
and who does not know that two-thirds of the volume of inspiration
is couched in emblems or parables borrowed from the objects and
things of external nature ? And it is a fact now well established that
that missionary, instrumentally, is the most successful wherever \m
field of labour may be, who is most f^\miliar with the various depart-
ments of the world of nature around, and can bwrow, with facility,
illustrations therefrom. In all this the theologian, both at home and
abroad, is but copying afler the example of Ilim, who spake as never
man spake^ and whose thoughts were of course couched in the language
best fitted for producing the end intended. And to what study ca!»
the youn w betake themselves better calculated to lead them away from

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the world of visibilities to that of invisibilities, from matter to mind,
from the finite to the infinite, from the creature to the Creator ?

And if this branch of study is of inconceivable value in all the prac-
tical pursuits of life, it is equally advantageous in the disciplining of the
miud. What better fitted for cultivating the perceptive powers than
the analytical process that must be gone through with every object in
the world of nature, in the determination of its character, and in the
allotment of its legitimate place in the system to which it belongs ?
And the power thus cultured and brought into healthful exercise and
strength will operate, and that most extensively, upon the reflective
cLass, and, espedally, upon the abstractive. And all this, again, will
form a most powerful means in helping us to analyze mind itself, in
imparting the capability of sitting as sentinels over the workings of our
own consciousness.

Natural Philotophy. The term, philosophy, signifies the love of
wisdom ; but, as a general term, it is used to denote an explanation of
the reason of things, or an investigation of the causes of all phenomena,
both of miud and matter. When applial to any particular department
of knowledge, the word Philosophy implies the collection of general
laws or principles, under which the subordinate facts or phenomena
relating to that ;. v'Hit are comprehended. Hence it is not unfre-
quently defined the science of causes and princiiiles ; the investigation
of the principles on which all knowledge and all being ultimately
rest. " Man," says Fleming, " first examines phenomena, but he is
uot satisfied till he has reduced them to their causes ; and when he
has done so, he asks to determine the value of the knowledge he has
attained. This is Philosophy, properly so called, the motive and
governing science, the science of sciences." Accordingly, that branch
of Philosophy, which treats of God, His attributes and decrees, is called
Tlieology ; that which treats of the ijitellect, is called Intellectual
Philosophy ; and that which treats of the material world is called
Physics or Natural Philosophy.

The term Natural Philosophy is considered by some authors as
embracing the whole extent of physical science, while others use it in
a more restricted sense, including only the general properties of inor-
gauized matter, the forces upon which it acts, the laws it obeys, the
results of those laws, and all those external changes which leave the
substance unaffected. It is in this sense we use the term now, the
other grand department being occupied by Natural Science.

In this restricted sense, it compiehends the general properties of
l>odies, both essential and accidental, mechanics or the laws of motion

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with the six mechanical powers. Natural Philosophy not only
discusses the statics and the dynamics of solid bodies, but those of
fluids too, called Hydrostatics and Hydraulics, meaning by the former
the nature, gravity and pressure of fluids, and by the latter the motion
of fluids and the canstruction of all kinds of instruments and machines
for m'jving them. It takes a wider range still, and discusses the
nature, properties ai:!d effects of seriform fluids, or Pneumatics ; the
nature and laws of sound, or Acoustics ; the laws, properties and ope-
rations of heat, or Pyronomics ; light, colours, and vision, or Optics ;
Electricity in all its forms and modes of manifestation, and Astronomy
or the Science of the Heavenly bodies.

This, it will be observed, opens up a wide and extensive field of
study and contemplation. And when prosecuted to its full extent is
sufficient to occupy the matured reflection of the human mind, of those
whose minds are not only developed but well disciplined. It will be
observed, however, that in so far as the school is concerned we have
confined the limits of its study to the mere elements. And surely
these, in their fundamental properties, can be easily expounded so as
to be within the compass of the understanding of the advanced pupils
in a common school, and of the whole pupils in a Grammar school or
Academy. Whatever can, along with the verbal description, be pre-
sented to the senses, and, still more, be rendered the subject of experi-
ment, interests and excites the attention of the young, and in almost
every department this can be done, and this, too, with objects and
things with which the young are perfectly familiar, being subjected
almost daily and hourly to their personal inspection or observation.
Were oral lessons of eight or ten minutes duration given every alter-
nate day on these themes, even in our common schools, it would not
only turn out more intelligent and useful men and women, but instead
of detracting from the amount and quality of their other scholarship
would greatly enhance and increase it. And this leads us to notice
tho advantages to be derived from this branch of knowledge.

1. It is here especially where the science of common things can be
most extensively dwelt on, than which there is no kind of knowledge
more useful, or interesting, or exciting. The real province of philosophy
is to unfold the reason of things, and especially of those things sub-
jected every day, or, it may be, every hour to our observation. This
constitutes the true secret of the development of mind. It never fails
to awaken a spirit of enquiry, and this increases spontaneously at an
amazingly rapid ratio.

2. More particularly, the knowledge thus imparted is peculiarly

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valuable to the clay -laborer, the tradesman, and especially to the agri-
culturist and the mechanic. And do not these in every nation consti-
tute the greatness ; and do they not form the very subtratum of society,
on "ch the main bulwark and strength of the nation depends ?

a. The knowledge thus imparted dignifies and ennobles manual
employment. Physical labour is too often undervalued. This ought
not to be, except when it is unaccompanied with the exercise of mind,
as it then assumes the character of brute force. Let it be associated
with the exercise of our reflective powers, and then it becomes the
best of all kinds of exercise alike for mind and bodv.

4. This knowledge is beneficial to all. It may not be of direct
service to many pursuits or employments, but it has proved the means
of awaking mind, of exciting a spirit of inextinguishable enquiry ; and
this has only to be transferred to the particular calling, to redound
most largely to the benefit of all.

5. There are few, if any, branches of knowledge better fitted to
show to the mind the vastness of the material universe, and thereby to
impress the heart with the majesty and glory ot the Omnipotent
Creator.

Psychology or Elements of Mental Science. lu the preceding book,
in the discussions connected with the first characteristic of the child's
nature, we had occasion to pi'esent an outline of the whole subject of
Psychology, and to this we would simply refer our readers. But
however lawful and warrantable it was to expatiate on such a subject
in that connection, we can easily conceive some of those who have
gone along with us, and, in the main, given their approval to the
branches to be taught, filled now with very amazement and consterna-
tion at the idea of introducing this, the most latent, and compli-
cated, and incomprehensible of all subjects, as one of the branches of
education in our schools. Here, again, we must beg our readers to
remember that it never was intended to attempt to make scholars, even
in the most advanced scholastic establishments, climb the heights of
Metaphysics, or plunge into all the depths of the condition of being,
or even to survey the field of the intuitive ; but simply to make them
acquainted with the elements of Mental Science with an outline of
its first principles. Chiothi semtton, * know thyself,' is a phrase which
has been rung and rerung in our ear from our very childhood.
And how cjn any human being, whose mind has been at all cultivated,
be said to know himself, if he is ignorant of that which constitutes the
very glory of man ? It is now universally admitted that every scholar
should be instructed in the elements of animal physiology, as not only

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of vast importance, theoretically regarded, but as pregnant with great
practical significance. And surely, it is not of less importance that the
young should be made acquainted with the leading features i-i tl>e
mental constitution, that that part of our being through which we
obtain all other knowledge, which constitutes the axe or the instrument
by which we fell every other tree, however formidable, by which we
scale every mountain, however apparently insurmountable. We are
thus decidedly of opinion, that it is not only allowable and practicable,
but the bounden duty of all the more advanced t^chools to see, that the
pupils are made acquainted with the elements of mental science, and,
especially, with these elements in their practical bearing. The grand
leading distinctions that obtain between the intellectual, the emotional
and moral should be clearly drawn and impressed, or as they are sub-
divided in Scripture, — the understanding, heart and conscience. A
knowledge of the senses, too, both in their anatomy and in their mental
aspects, will form a very interesting theme — as well as their relation
to the perceptive faculties. The representative powers, too — the
iiicmory and imagination with all their practical effects, the laws that
govern, and means of improvement should also be presented, &c.
The difference, too, that obtains amongst the sensibilities of our mental
framework, should also be pointed out and dwelt upon — the emotions
instinctive and rational, the affections benevolent and malevolent, the
desires physical and mental. The nature, authority and influence of
conscience should also be clearly pointed out. The whole subject of
Ethics, as grounded upon the word of God, can be made very plain
and simple to the most ordinary understanding.

The following, among other benefits, flow fron^ this branch of
knowle '^j, presented either in a more or less systeniuiic fori. :

1. It will accustom the young to look at spirit apart from matter.
to study the immaterial as a distinct essence or substance.

2. It will impart not only a knowledge of the particular power or
faculty in all its properties, laws, and means of improvement ; — but
enable the young to ascertain the faculty or class of faculties, &c., with
which they are more largely endowed, and stimulate to a more diligent
and hearty improvement of the same.

3. It will whet and render all the more efficient those powers by
which they obtain all other knowledge, and prosecute all other inves-
tigations.

4. It will bring within their reach far more extensive fields of
thought for their gratification.

5. It will exert a powerful influence in bringing the finite mind in

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contact with the infinite, of the visible with the invisible, of the natural
with the supernatural.

Elements of Social Science. By this science we understand the
(Treat leading principles invol' ed in civil government, systematically
arranged, or the rights and duties of the governing and the governed
in the social compact. This science involves Political Econon\y, or
that science which investigates the circumstances most favorable to
the production of national wealth, and the laws which determine its
distribution among the different ranks and orders of society ; but it
i-oes a great deal farther, and embraces the nature and the properties
of civil gov( rnment as an ordinance instituted by heaven, designed
and in every vay fitted to promote the happiness of the body politic, —
the different forms of civil government, — the rights arid duties of citizens
in the varied relations in wh'ch they stand to one another, &c. This
is a branch of knowledge deeply involving the welfare of the human
species, as social beings, and which is every day assuming a greater
importance and demanding the closest attention of the most enlightened
statesmen and devoted philanthropists. For ages, such a science was
scouted and contemned. During that period the whole matter of
Government was limited to but a few, and the happiness or prosperity
of comtQunities, or nations, principally consisted in the implicit obedi-
ence yielded by the masses to the legally constituted authorities. As
population increased, and civilization and refinement advanced, and
the rights and immunities of citizens became better understood, both
by themselves and by those placed over them, matters assumed a very
different aspect. The political franchise took a far broader area, and
hundreds and thousands were invested with this privilege who had
before been mere passive spectators of great political movements. In
consequence of this change, which has been growing throughout all the
constitutional nations upon earth, ever since the close of last century,
and especially since the declaration of American independence, it has
become indispensably necessary to diffuse amongst the masses of the
population sound and enlightened views of civil government. And in
no better way can these be disseminated, or the minds of the people
more thoroughly leavened with sound views of the subject, than
through the medium of the schools of the country. Not that such
instruction should ever condescend to the low arena of partizan politics,
or to those fightings and contendings upon which changes in rulers
depend, and which are so essential for the preservation of the purity
of the political atmosphere. This were to frustrate the grand object
intended by the exercise. What we mean is that the forms of

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Government, the institutions of kingdoms, and the immunities of all
the inhabitants should be clearly pointed out. And surely boys or
g:rls of 14 or 15 years of age, when their education is at all equivalent
to their years, can be easily taught to understand and appreciate the
difference between constitutional government and despotism, between
anarchy and the preservation of order. They can also bo taught that
to secure civil liberty, each citizen must be curtailed somewho.t in the
exercise of his natural liberty ; and that whilst, in all our measures, we
ought to aim at perfection, we must be content in practice to stop
short of the wished for goal. Such knowledge delivered in oral
lessons to the rising generation would, we are persuaded, prove of
immense benefit to the body politic, and to the advancement of the
comfort of all ranks and degrees.

1. It would enable them to draw the distinction between the official
position and the private condition of the rulers of the laud, and would
inspire with that respect and obedience which they owe to the law
fully constituted authorities.

2. It would be the best preparative to fit and qualify the free
citizens of any country to exercise their elective franchise for the
highest and most important aims and objects, and not for their own
selfishness or personal aggrandizement.

3. It would tend vastly to prevent strikes, chartism and many
other isms which cannot be effected by Acts of Parliament.

4. It would diffuse a spirit of contentment through all ranks and
degrees, and dispose them to render the ties which unite them together
subservient to each others real good.

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RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.

In the discussion of the different branches of education, we have
confined ourselves entirely to the two points proposed, namely, the
nature and the use or benefits of these branches respectively. Under
the former, we have briefly investigated the origin and elucidated a
few of their more prominent features ; under the latter, we have consid-
ered the benefits, direct and indirect, the kind and value of the know-
ledge they impart, and the more important powers they call forth and
cultivate, that is, when they are properly and judiciously taught.
This latter might have bef easily enlarged ; but enough has surely
been said to demonstrate the mtimacy of the connection between this
and the foregoing Book, and that there is not one faculty or emotion
without a branch of education fitted to give it expansion and discipline,

AKT OF EDUCATION.

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thereby, in one respect at least, tracing the connection between tJic
tlicory and the practice, tlie science and the art. As several oi" these
branches operate ui)on the same faculty or class of faculties, they might
easily be reduced in number, but this would be to the serious damage
of the other class of benefits in the knowledge they impart, all which
\vill be found necessary in the various scenes or sjiheres in which the
recinients may be placed in their future career of life. Even in this
view some may regard the list as too numerous, too extensive in its
range, and as usurping the collegiate course. And they judge rightly,
if it were intended to treat these synthetically, or even tc .tempt any-
thing exhaustive in their application, or to follow them out in the
minutia) of their detail. But this is not the object contemplated. All
that is intended is to present these topics in their broadest skeleton
outlin'^, is to put the scholars in such a position respecting them as
that they shall be able to prosecute them for themselves, as that they
shall be competent not only to fill in the details, but to have the taste
and relish to do so. Besides, it ought to be remembered, that the
branches of learning herein briefly sketched, are not intended for any
one class of school or seminary, but for a full, a complete curriculum
of a liberal education, for a regular gradation ".om the most initiatory
to the most advanced, every school being allowed to select the branches
most congenial to its nature or design.

It will be observed that in the order in which we nave presented
these branches of learning, we have followed the distinction usually
drawn between those that are mainly instrumental and those that are
mainly communicative. We have classified or arranged the former
into the literary, the scientific and the economical. The latter rises
from the more easy to the more difficult and complicated. This is not
a matter of much importance, and yet we consider some order advan-
tageous. Text-books, to be of essential service on all these branches,
would require to be thoroughly graded, and with the exception of
those on language, more in the shape of Institutes than of elaborate
expositions.

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CHAPTER II.

METHOD OF IMPARTING KNOWLEDGE.

Outline. — Meaning of Ciiai'ter.— Sect 1st Piiilosoi'iiy of MRTitori,

VIEWED BOTH SUBJECTIVELY AND OHJKCTIVKLY. — SeCT, 2nd. HlHTORY
OF METHOD. PROMINENT CIIAKACTER8 WHO, AT DIFFERENT EPOCHS,
FLOURISHED BOTH IN OlD AND NeW WoRLD. — SeCT. 3rd. FiVE DISTINCT

systems: Rote, Mkchanical, Monitorial, Explanatory, Objective,
Training. — Sect. 4th. Selection of a system. Ground on which
A selection should re made. — Sect. 5th. More particular exposi-
tion OF thk Training system adopted. — Sect. 6. Exemplification
OF Training system in teaching the different branches of edu-
cation. — Branches enumerated in preceding chapter gone over ijt
order; how taught jn accordance with our system.

Attention tas already been called to the distinction that obtains
between knowledge and the method of imparting it. — a distinction
that must appear plain and palpable to all, whatever the xind of
knowledge, or the party to whom, communicated. In the case of pub-
lic speakers, for example, is not the difference between the one and
the other in the discussion of the same point, owing as much, if not
more, to the way in which the subject is presented than to the subject
itself, or the conclusions arriv 1 at? One uses powerful argumenta-
tion ; another, beautiful illustrations ; another, interesting and beguiling
anecdotes; and a'j other, plain, didactic statements, but the truth or the
event presented is substantially the same in all ; and yet one is vastly
more successful than another in the art of persuasion ; and all because
of the method employed.

And 80 is it pre-eminently with the education of the young. It is
not the truths or the lessons they impart, that produce the most bene-
ficial results, but the way in which they do it. For a long period the
branches of learning constituted the sum total of education, and the
school which travelled the round of the largest list of ologies was par'
excellence, the best and most efficient. As, however, more enlightened
and elevated views of the end of education gained ground, the distinc-
tion referred to has been more calmly and soberly looked at, and the
method has in consequence bulked into a magnitude which it never
had before. And this respect to method will grow apace. As more
lofty conceptions of the end of education prevail, so will method be
proportionally appreciated and enhanced.

There is indeed an inseparable connection between the knowledge
and the method of imparting it. The better the method, the clearer

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and more liicirl will bo the apprehension of the truth or the subject.
And the more firm the grasp of the knowledge by the mind, the more
perfect will be the satisfaction it yields, and the more valuabUi will the
method be accounted. Need we prfmi.se that if this is a subject of
transcendent importance, it is one of no ordinary complexity. It
involves the practical application of all that has been advanced regard-
ing the nature and the science of education, and of eoursxj must embrace
the essence of the varied principles therein set forth. This, however,
constitutes the real work of Normal Schools ; implying not only a
large amount of study clearly to comprehend the adaptation process to
the V iried phases of the human mind, but also of experience in acquir-
ing facility in the practical department. But "we proceed to the
Jisquisition of the whole subject.

Section 1st. — Philosophy of Method.

By the philosophy of method we are plainly to understand thtj
[vrinciple on which it rests, the rationale of the thing. And this is
neither more nor less than the presentation of the subject, of whatever
nature it be, in such a way as shall enlist the sympathy antl interest
of every child in the class. This plainly involves two things — the
subject itself and the scholars — how the one and the other are to be
treated so that this end shall be served. Now there are just two ways
in which any subject can be presented and unfolded to the human
mind. It maj be viewed in itself, either as a whole made up of parts,
or relatively, that is, in its relations as part of a system, its various
properties, or attributes, or qualities being all classified — and both the
one and the other brought before the class, and that through the
medium of questions and ellipses, either simultaneously or ind dually.
These are the only two ways in whicli any subject can be developed
and exhibited to the mind, either by analysis or synthesis. In treating
a subject or object analytically, we just treat it as it is, we look at it
concretely, and then in its parts or properties ; in other words, we
proceed from the general to the particular. The all-wise Creator has
presented everything to us in a concrete form, complete in itself.
This principle reigns alike in the world of nature and grace. By this
arrangement the Almighty evidently intended that man should study
or look at things as they are, and reduce them to their constituent
parts. And in accordance, therewith, he hath implanted in the human
breast an innate desire to regard and to take an interest in objects or
things, as thus presented. We not only delight to look at, to touch, to
taste, &c., whatever may come under our consideration, but we possess
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an instinctive desire to divide it into its constituent parts, as is well
illustrated by the celebrated Du<^ld Stewart in the untieing of tlie
artificially constructed knot, with which illustration many of our
readers are doubtless familiar. And it is only by presenting it in this
form to the young that we arrest their attention and excite their
interest. And feeling the firmness of their foundation after they
obtain all this knowledge, they are inspired with an ardent desire to
know more, to prosecute their investigations to higher and yet higher
degrees, to soar from the known into the loftiest regions of the
unknown. To the young and untutored mind, therefore, every branch
of knowledge ought to be presented first in this light as the natural
mode, as the one best fitted to awaken an interest, and, by consequence,
an inextinguishable thirst for higher attainment. Nay more, by the
pursuance of this plan, such an amount of self-reliance and confidence
will be generated, that they will be emboldened to undertake yet more
valorous mental achievements, and be qualified in short for the higher
exercises of generalization and classification. By a knowledge of
figures viewed concretely or associated with objects, the young will
be prepared to go on to the consideration of abstract numbers. By
lessons in oral geography, they will be qualified for the systematic,
and so with grammar and other branches.

The only other way of presenting any subject to the mind, is rela-
tively as a part of a systematic whole, as holding a certain place in a
science, that is abstractly or synthetically. This is exactly the converse
of the preceding method, proceeding from particulars to generals. It
supposes that the analytical procsss has taken place, that the parts
have been separated, that, by a process of generalization and classifica-
tion, these parts have been reduced to a system and placed in their
proper place as parts of one grand whole, of one beauteous system,
according to their various properties or attributes. This is the pecu-
liar province and work of the human mind. By the legitimate
exercise of our rational faculties, wo collect the disjecta memhra of
every department in the kingdom of nature, and turn the wliole of the
parts into a systematic arrangement or science. This is man's sphere,
this is the food provided by the all-bountiful Creator for the employ-
ment of his intellectual and moral powers. The text-books in all our
common schools on Arithmetic, Grammar, and Geography, &c., are
presented to us in this form ; and the pupils being plunged all at once,
and without the least preparation, into the abstractions, and intricacies,
and technicalities of science, their education becomes neither more
nor less than a species of systematized word-mongery, a series of

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verbal signs. They have nothing to hold by, no known region on
which to plant their feet. They are transjjorted all at once into the
niry region of signs and shadows. They are altogether uninterested,
ond conseiiuently put forth no mental effort, save that of the memory
of words ; and even that is nothing but tho effect of a miserable
dragooning, of threats and of punishments.

To awaken an interest in the minds of the young and induce thorn
to put forth any mental effort, it is tluu" indispensably necessary that
the analytical precede the synthetical, that the natural go before the
logical and 'consecutive. And, even when the latter mode is employed,
it must be preceded by the former; that is, to interest even the
advanced youth and call forth their energies, there must always be
taken the solid groui;d of the known. Hence the necessity of illus-
tration and analogy at every stage. The subject may be new, and the
first thing the skilful teacher has to do is to discover the relation
between it and some known territory with which his pupils are per-
fectly familiar, that their transition into tho unknown may be easy and
natural.

Such wo hold to be the philosophy of method in so far as the
subject-matter is concerned. But, as we have already hinted, there is
another element to be taken into consideration, and that is, the way of
handling or inanipu'^ting the children when thus unfolding the subject,
so that all shall be worked by the exercise in hand and each benefit
all. This (.'emands both the individual and the simultaneous process ;
in other words, the teacher must come into direct contact with every
child in the class, and still take all the advantage that can be derived
from the sympathy of numbers. If the object of the teacher is t ">
ascertain whether the class has got the lesson, this must be done by
individual questioning and answering. If, on the contrary, his object
IS to exercise the thinking powers of the children through the medium
of an object lesson, or the exposition of any principle that may lie at
the bottom, he must carry on the work by means of the simultaneous
process, that is, he must propose the question to ue whole class, allow
as many as choose to give the answe'^, or to carry on the elli; al
process. And if only a few are able to df» the one or the other of these,
to convert the answer into a question and throw it back upon the class,
tliat, if possible, none shall be allowed to remain without carrying every
idea along with them. Addressing the question to all will make them
all think, and here the sympathy of numbers will come in mightily to
aid the teacher. The one will stimulate the other, and thus each will

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benefit a? ' the others. But in order to see that the exercise has been
understood and received by all, it were in every way a<lvantageous, at
the conclusion, to call upon one or more, as opportunity admitted, to
give a recital of the whole in its various relations and connections,
or to cause the class to write an abstract. This would stimulate to
diligence, and furnish sotnething like evidence to the teacher, whether
the exercise gone through by all has been actually received by all.

Section 2nd. — History of Method.

Though the true method of educating the young is embodied in the
sacred volume, distinctly inculcated in the Old, and amply illustrated
in the New Testament, yet how slow have those, in possession of this
record, been simply to obey its dictates or follow out its instructions.
The quantity and not the quality, the what and not the how, has been
the all but universal demand. True, there have been a few in every
age ",vho have apprehended the real glory of education, who have
looked beyond the mere exterior of school houses, of school furniture
and school text-books, who have penetrated and surveyed with pro-
found study, with keen eye, with practical enthusiasm, the recesses of
the inner life of our theme. These luminaries, these morning sturs of
education, have multiplied at a very rapid ratio, ever since the estab-
lishment and propagation, in all civilized countries, of Normal Schools
with their Colleges and Model or practising schools. These institu-
tions are presided over by the most enlightened and devoted enthusiasts
in education, who have associated with them Professors of Didactics,
or Paideutics, or ?Iethodology — men who spend their time and
energies in prying into and unfolding the whole subject of the science
of education, testing the various improvements proposed, and experi-
mentalizing in their own s^ >cial field. It may not be unprofitable,
in connection with our present discussion, that we briefly contemplate
the life and history of a few of the more prominent of these characters—
their innovations and improvements — their gains and their losses-—
their triumphs and their struggles.

Europe. Those who, in the sixteenth century, held the most pro-
miner t place on the continent of Europe, wore the following:—
Luther, Melaucthon, Irotzendorf, Sturm, Neander, Wolfgang, Matich,
Christopher Helwig, Amos Comenius. Though the first two of these
•distinguished worthies were principally engaged with the organization
;and consolidation of popular systems of education^ the clearness and
soundness of the views of both on the subject of method are truly
marvellous. They sat at the feet of the great Teacher, and were

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evidently imbued with His sentiments and spirit. "We refer our
readers to the writings of both these distinguished teachers.

In the seventeenth century, two equally illustrious individuals
appeared, viz., Philip J. Spener, born in the Alsace in 1635, and
Augustus Herman Franke, born at Lubeck in 1663, who, the first, by
the invention of the Catechetic method, — and the last, a pupil of the
former, — by the foundation of the Orphan House at Halle, in 1696, and
of the Seminarium Pra^ceptorum, in 1704, — the first regular Normal
School, — were destined to introduce a new era in the history of educa-
tion in Germany. At this institution, the pupil-teachers received
separate instruction for two years, and obtained a practical knowledge
of method in the classes of the several schools. Among the most
distinguished of Franke'.s pupils and disciples were Count Zinzendorf,
the founder of the Moravians, Steinmetz, Hecker, Rambalt, Filbiger,
all successful teachers, and known as the school of Pietists. In this
same century arose another school called the Philanthropinic, still
prevailing in some si-ctions of Germany, mainly founded by Basedow,
Campe and Sabyman. The principles of this school were, 1st. The
formation of character by following the indications of nature. 2nd.
The body as well as the mind was to be hardened and invigorated,
and prepared to execute with energy its designs. 3rd. Discipline
softened by appeals to the best principles in the child's nature. 4th.
The branches receiving main attention were languages, music, objects
and laws of nature. In 1746, Henry Pestalozzi was born at Zurich
in Switzerland, the brightest educational constellation that had appear-
ed, and wh- both by his example and writings, diffused a new spirit
among the schools of primary instruction over all Europe, and indeed
over all the civilized world. Ilaviuf; laboured to discover the true
and simple means of education, he established a regular school at
Burgdorf, in the canton of Berne, to which his benevolence and talents
attracted a large number of fellow labourers. As the result of his
investigation, Pestalozzi assumed, as a fundamental principle, that
education, in order to fit man for hi? destination, must proceed accord-
ing to the laws of nature ; that the teacher should assist the course of
natural development, instead of doing it violence; that he should
watch and follow its progress, instead of attempting to mark out a
path agreeably to a preconceived system. In view of this principle
he sought

Ist. To develop, and exercise, and strengthen the faculties of the
child by a steady course of excitement to self-activity, with a limited
degree of assistance to his efforts.

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2ncl. To find the proper point for commencing, and to proceed in
a slow, and gradual, and uninterrupted course from one point to
another.

3rd. To place the essence of education in the harmonious develop-
ment of every organ of the body and faculty of the mind.

4th. To give close attention and constant reference to the peculi-
arities of each child and of each day, as well as to the characteristics
of the people among whom he lived.

5th. To limit the elementary subjects of instruction to Form,
Number and Language, as the essential condition of definite and
distinct knowledge, and to teach them with the utmost simplicity,
comprehensiveness and mutual connection.

6th. That instruction should commence with the intuitions, or
simple perception of external objects and their relations.

7th. To treat every subject of instruction properly, and thus
become un exercise of thought.

8th. To attach great importance to arithmetic, and specially to
mental arithmetic — to value it not merely in the limited view of its
practical usefulness, but as an excellent means of strengthening the
mind.

9th. Not to rest satisfied with a lifeless repetition of the rules of
grammar, nor yet with mere exercise for common life but to aim at a
development of the laws of language — an introduction ^uto its external
nature, and construction, and peculiar spirit, thereby not only culti-
vating the intellect but improving the affections.

10th. To introduce vocal music into the circle of school studies, to
render them as familiar with the notes as they are with the sounds of
the letters.

11th. To oppose the abuse made of the Socratic method, by
attempting to draw something out of the children before they had
received any knowledge regarding it.

12th. To oppose strenuously the opinion that religious instruction
should be addressed exclusively to the understanding; that it lies
deep in the hearts of men, and is not to be enstamped from without
but to be developed from within.

13th. To render education effectual and useful, that mutual affec-
tion should reign between the educator and pupil, both in the bouse
and scl.ool, not to rely on artificial excitements, such as those addressed
to emulation ; that the children should find their best reward in the
consciousness of increased intellectual vigour; that the delightful

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feeling of progress should be the strongest excitement to industry and
morality.

14th. To attach as much importance to the cultivation of the
bodily powers and the exercise of the senses as the Philanthropinists,
and to have a graduated course for this purpose.

Such are the leading principles avowed and practised by Pestalozzi,
on account of which he is amply entitled to the high encomiums that
have been pronounced upon him. as having placed the sacred cause of
education, in its methods, a decided step in advance of all that
preceded, and as having given it a deeper, a more natural and compre-
hensive foundation. But the excellencies and defects of this system
we shall notice in its proper place. Suffice it to state that, when at the
commencement of this century the Prussian Government undertook,
systematically, the work of improving the elementary schools as a
means of creating and diffusing a patriotic spirit among the people,
the fame of Pestalozzi was at its height. To him, accordingly, and to
his school, to his method and to his disciples, the attention was turned
for guidance and aid. His views were speedily adopted and propa-
gated ; and the present system of elementary instruction in Prussia
was moulded and fashioned thereon. His name is held in high repute
up to this day throughout Prussia. On the 12th of January, 1846,
his centennial birthday was celebrated throughout Germany and part
of Prussia with an enthusiasm usually awarded to the successful
soldier. In more than a hundred cities and villages was the anniver-
sary marked by some public demonstration. "Within the last 25 or
30 years, when popular education has bulked so largely and engaged
so much of the attention of the most enlightened patriots and states-
men in the Old and New "World, the eyes of all have been directed
towards Germany, and specially Prussia. Several distinguished and
experienced educationists have visited and examined the practical
working of the whole system within this period, and their testimony
to its excellencies and imperfections has been published and canvassed.
We are inclined to the belief that there exists considerable exaggera-
tion on both sides. There cannot, however, we think, remain a doubt
in the minds of those who have examined the subject, that Pestalozzi
is entitled to be considered one of the benefactors of the species, that
his views on elementary education produced, wherever they received
justice, a decided revolution, that notwithstanding their stereotyped
and mechanical character and tendency, there is much that will prove
of lasting benefit to mankind. Pestalozzi has many devoted disciples
both in Germany and Switzerland, some of whom, such as Ramsauer,

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Raumer, Zclla of Wirtemberg, made great imiirovements in matfer*
of detail. IJut more of this afterwards.

Britain. It is time that we direct attentiou to the hi. .ory of
metliod iu Britain. "We say nothing here ab . Ireland. It is well
known that two bodies or parties, antagonistic in their practical opera-
tionsy are piishing forward the education of the people in that Island —
the National Board, and the Church Education Society, both with
vigorous Normal Schools, the former conductetl mainly according to
the Lancasterian or Monitorial system, and the latter mainly according
to the Pestalozxian. Yet Ireland presents no feature wo-rthy of notice
on the subject of method. It is otherwise, however, both in the case
of England and Scotland. Though these countries are united mider
one government, there are not perhaps any two christian nations so
diverse in their modes of thinking, in their habits, in their grand
national characteristics, traceable, iu a great nveasure^ to the educational
operations of both these countries. In both instances an immense
impulse was given to education towards the middle of the sixteenth
century, in England, however, education reached only to the middle
classes ia the communJty, while in Scotland, it came down to the
lowest, even to the children of the ai'tizan and peasant. Iu the former
case, there was no national system, and tlie common school was, in
consequence, never known, or supposed to be necessaiy till the days of
Joseph Lancaster. Milton and Locke, both democratic in their lean-
ings, wrote very profoimdly on the subject of education, and clearly
demonstrated their thoi'ough apprehension of its end, with fine broad
practical views as to the way in which this end was to be reached;
but they did not seem to havi>. any idea of the education of the masses.
In the latter, that ia, in Scotland, matters were quite the reverse.
Knox, the champion of the Reformation there, not only insisted
that a school should be erected side by side of the parish Kirk, but
that a school-master should be appointed in every way competent to
teach the higher branches of a sound and enlightened education ; and
such was the response on the part of the people to this proposition,
thaty in 1632, a civil enactment was obtained, by which provision was
made for the education of all the children in every parish at a cost
which none was unable to pay. No one can ftiil to perceive how these
two conditions of things have affected the subject under consideratiou^
how different the estimate in these two countries of the value of popu-
lar education, as well as of the mode of carrying it out, till within the
last thirty or forty years. Since that time an immense revolution has
taken place. Every one has been outvieing his neighbour in the race

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of popular education, in the qualification of the teacher, its heart and
life, and in the devising of plans for securing the greatest efficiency at
the least expenditure of means and time. Nothing can more satisfac-
torily demonstrate the progress of the public mind on this subject,
than the large number of Normal Schools for the training of duly qual-
ified teachers. Thirty-five years ago, and there was not the vestige of
a Normal School either in Great Britain or Ireland, and now there
are not fewer than forty, all well officered, and all competing with one
another on the all-important matter of methodology. Here we must
notice a few individuals both in England and Scotland, who seem to
have made the deepest impression, and worked the most complete
revolution in connection with our subject. In England, we have, in
first class public schools, Dr. Arnold of Rugby ; and in popular
education we have Messrs. Bell and Lancaster, Wilderspln, and Sir
James Kaye Shuttleworth.

Dr. Arnold was born at "West Cowes, Isle of Wight, in 1795,
educated at Winchester, graduated at Oxford, and in 1819 removed
to Laleham as a private teacher, and there commenced his great
career. The ninth year at Laleham was passing, when Arnold
became a candidate for the head-mastership of Rugby, and was
successful. It was during the fourteen years that he laboured at
Rugby tl at he obtained his celebrity, as one of the greatest education-
ists that England has produced. Did space admit, it would be
exceedingly interesting to go into detail, to trace his operations in the
management of the whole general exterior of the establishment placed
under his charge. But it is more to our purpose and in keeping with
the design of this section, that we advert as briefly as possible to the
relation between Arnold and his pupils, and how he discharged his
duties here. He possessed the most clear and exalted views of the
aim and end of education in all its departments, and the means by
w h this is to be achieved — work — exercise. He was as anxious
about the physical as the intellectual condition of his boys, and when-
ever he saw them reading too much, he always remonstrated with
them, caused them to relax their work, and invited them to his house
in the holidays. As for the minds of his pupils, he seemed to have
but one wish, that they should be at work. Their cleverness was
altogether an inferior consideration, even the amount of the attain-
ments was comparatively unimportant, provided they were doing what
they could. " If there be one thing on earth which is truly admira-
ble," he said, " it is to see God's wisdom blessing an inferiority of
natural powers where they have been honestly, truly and zealously

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cultivated. The great business of education, as far as regards the
intellect, is to inspire it with a desire of knowledge, and to furnish it
with power to obtain, and to profit by what it seeks for." But far
above all intellectual, as above all physical development, was the
moral excellence after which he would have teachers and pupils alike
exerting themselves. Indeed the r>>ligious element in Arnold's system
constituted the mainspring. His views upon this subject are very
felicitously expressed in one of his sermons from which we quote,
bringing out as it does his distinction between religious instruction
and religious education. He is answering the question what can
public schools do ?

"They can give elementary religious instruction. As every child
can be taught to read and write, so every child can be taught to say
his catechism, can be taught to know the main truths of the gospel,
can be taught to say hymns. There is no doubt, I suppose, that
schools can certainly compass as much as this, and this is, I think, by
no means to be despised. For though we know but too well that the
learning this, and much more than this, is very far from saving our
souls certainly or generally, yet it is no less true that without this we
are much worse off, and with this much better off. It is at least giving
a man a map of the road which he is going, which will keep him in
the right way if he uses it. A map will not make his limbs stronger,
nor his spirits ^rmer ; he may be tired or he may be indolent, and it
is of no use to him then. But suppose a man furnished with a very
perfect map of a strange country, and on his day's journey he has
wasted many hours by going off his road, or by stopping to eat and to
revel, and by and by the evenirg is coming on, and he knows not
where he is, and he would fain make up for his former carelessness,
and get to his journey's end before night comes on. The map, which
hitherto has been carried uselessly, becomes then his guide and his
best friend. So it has been known to be often with religious instrnc-
tion. Neglected, like the map, while the morning was fair, and we
cared not about our onward journey ; when life is darkened, and
troubles have come, and a man has indeed wanted life and comfort,
then the instruction of the school has been known to flash upon bis
mind, and more especially what he has learned in psalms and hymns,
which naturally cleave the easiest to the memory. When he would
turn he has nowhere to turn. This has very often happened as the
fruit of early religious instruction, when that instruction has been in
no way accompanied with education. And therefore, as all our church
schools can undoubtedly give to all the elements of religious instruc-

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tion, as well as teach all to write and read, they deseiTe, I think, our
most earnest support ; and it is our part to hold, according to our best
ability, in providing every portion of the kingdom, with the means of
certainly obtaining so much of good.

I have said that schools can certainly give religious instruction, but
that it is not certain that they will give religious education. I dwell
on this distinction for two several reasons : — first, because it concerns
us all in our own private relations, to be aware of the enormous differ-
ence between the two ; secondly, because confounding them together,
we either expect schools to educate, which very likely they will not
be able to do, and then are unreasonably disappointed ; or else feeling
sure that the greater good of education is not certainly to be looked
for, we do not enough value the lesser good of instruction which can
be given certainly, and thus do not encourage schools so much as we
ought. Elementary instruction in religion, as in other things, may be
certainly given to all who have the common natural faculties, that is,
as I said, the catechism and hymns may be made to be learned by
heart, and the great truths of Christ's gospel may be taught so as to
remembered. But even instruction, when wo go beyond the elements,
cannot be given to all certainly, we cannot undertake to make every
boy, even if we have the whole term of his boyhood and youth given
us for the experiment, either a good divine or a good scholar, or to
be master of any other kind of knowledge. This cannot be done,
although as far as instruction is concerner schools have great means
at their command, nor do other things out of school very much inter-
fere with their efficacy. But to give a man a christian education, is to
make him love God as well as know him ; to make him have faith in
Christ, as well as to have been taught the facts that he died for our
sins and rose again ; to make him open his heart eagerly to every
impulse of the Holy Spirit,' as well as to have been taught the fact as
it is in the Nicene Creed, that he is the Lord and Giver of spiritual
life. And will mere lessons do all this, Vi'hen the course of life and
all examples around, both at home and at school, with a far more
mighty teaching, and one to which our natural dispositions far more
readily answe", enforce the contrary ; and therefore the great work of
christian education is not the direct and certain fruit of building
schools and engaging schoolmasters, but something far beyond, to be
compassed only by the joint efTorts of all the whole church and nation, —
by the school-master and the parent, by the school-fellow at school,
and by the brothers and sisters at home, by the clergyman in his
flailing, by the landlord in his calling, by the farmer and the trades-

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man, by the labourer and the professional man, and the man of inde-
pendent income, whether large or small in theirs, by the Queen and
her ministers, by the council of the nation in Parliament ; by each
and all of these, labouring to remove temptations to evil, to make
good easier and more honoured, to confirm faith and holiness in others
by their own example ; in a word, to make men love and glorify their
God and Saviour when they see the blessed fruits of His kingdom
even here on earth. And to bring this to ourselves more closely, as
private persons, let us remember that we send our children to school,
although we give up their instruction to the school-master, yet we
cannot give up their education. Their education goes on out of school
as well as in school, and very often far more vigorously. "We shall
see this again, if we remember again that the great work of education
is to make us love what is good, and therefore not only know it, but
do it.''

Such Were the views of Arnold as expressed in his own words.
And how enlightened, and noble, and christian — and all because he
sat at the feet of his divine master, because he had learned at the
fountain-head the Bible method of education.

Those teachers again who have gained notoriety in elementary
instruction in Englf.nd, are Dr. Bell, Joseph Lancaster and Wilderspin,
along with Sir Jaraes Kaye Shuttleworth, the first and second of whom
are considered the founders of the Madras or Lancasterian system,
the third of infant schools, and the fourth inaugurated the present
denominational and governmental system. The origin of the Lancas-
terian or monitorial system is thus given by Samson Low in his
* Charities of London.' Whilst superintendent of the Military Orphan
Asylum at Madras in 1791, Dr. Bell one day observed a boy belong-
ing to a Malabar school writing in the sand ; thinking that method of
writing very convenient, both as regards' cheapness and facility, he
introduced it in the school of the Asylum, and as the teacher refused
to teach by that method he employed one of the cleverest boys to
teach the rest. The experiment of teaching by a boy was so remark-
ably successful that he extended it to the other branches of instruction,
and soon organized the whole school under boy-teachers, who were
themselves instructed by the doctor. On his return to England, he
published a report of the Madras Orphan Asylum, in which he partic-
ularly pointed out the new mode of school organization as far more
efficient than the old.

The publication took place in 1797, and in the following year Dr.
Bell introduced the system into the school of St. Berolph's, Algate,

ART OF EDUCATION, 801

London. He afterwards introduced it at Kendal, and made attempts,
with small success, to obtain its adoption in Edinburgh. Settling
down soon after as rector of Swanage in Dorchester, he was secluded
from the world for seven yea'^s ; yet he retained his strong opinion of
the value of the new system of education, and had the school at
Swanage conducted on that system.

In the meanwhile, Joseph Lancaster, son of a Chelsea pensioner, in
the Borough-road, London, opened a school in his father's house in
the year 1798, at the early age of eighteen. He had been usher in
schools, and being of an original, enterprising and ardent character,
he had himself made improvements in tuition. Dr. Bell's pamphlet
having fallen in his way, he adopted the Madras system with eager-
ness, making various alterations in its details. In the year 1802, he
had brought it into a very perfect state of organization, and found him-
self as well able to teach 250 boys, with the aid of the senior boys as
teachers, as before to teach 80. His enthusiasm and benevolence led
him to conceive the practicability of bringing all the children of the
poor under education by the new system, which was not only so
attractive as to make learning a pleasure to the children, but was so
cheap as exceedingly to facilitate the establishment and support
of schools for great numbers of the poor. He published pamphlets
recommending the plan, and in one of them ascribes the chief merit
of the system to Dr. Bell, whom he afterwards visited at Swanage.
His own school he made free, and obtained subscriptions from friends
for its support. The Duke of Bedford, having been invited to visit it»
became a warm and liberal patron of the system. Lancaster pushed
his plan with the ceaseless energy of an enthusiast ; nothing daunted
or discouraged him ; he asked subscriptions for new schools from
every quarter ; and at length he was admitted to an interview with
the king, at Weymouth, in 1806. Being charmed vnth what he heard
of his large designs, the admirable order and efficiency of his schools,
and also with the simplicity and overflowing benevolence of the man,
his Majesty subscribed £100, the Queen £50, and the Princesses £25
each, to the extension of the Lancasterian system. The King also
declared himself to be the Patron of the Society, which was eoon after-
wards formed to promote education on this system. Such was the
origin of the " British and Foreign School Society," originally desig-
nated " The Royal Lancasterian Institution for promoting the educa-
tion of the children of the Poor." In 1808, Lancaster resigning his
affairs into the hands of Trustees, it assumed more of the character of
a public institution. Mr. Lancaster died in 1838, supported in his

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latter days solely by an annuity purchased for him by a few old and
attached friends. Dr. Bell died in 1832, leaving the princely sum of
£120,000 for the encouragement of literature and the advancement of
education.

Dr. Bell's method, thus publicly brought forward and advocated, iu
process of time was adopted in the Lambeth schools, by the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, and in the Royal Military school by the Duko
of York's authority ; numerous schools springing forthwith into
existence upon what is known to this day as the Madras system ; the
distinctive features between these and such as were founded by
Lancaster's party, consisting in the extent to which the religious
instruction should be mixed with the secular ; the former, as a clergy-
man of the Established church, advocating the inculcation of the truths
of Christianity as held in the church articles and formularies ; the
latter, representing the dissenting interests, admitted the reception of
the Bible as the foundation of all instruction, but without note or com-
ment. This still remains the essential difference between the two
societies and the schools conducted on their principles. In 1808, Dr.
Bell endeavoured to induce the government to take up his plans and
to establish a National Board of Education, with schools placed under
the management of the parochial clergy. In this he failed, but friends
of the Established church rallied round him, and through their efforts
and under the patronage of the bishops and clergy, the National
Society was eventually formed in 1811.

Such was the foundation of that which is sometimes designated the
Lancasteriau, the Bell and the Madras system, and sometimes the
monitorial. This system in its exterior was a beautiful piece of organi-
zation, produced an immense sensation in the educational world, and
gave a mighty impulse to the cause of elementary or common school
instruction, aided and abetted as was this movement by the labours of
Raikes in the Sabbath School. These two individuals, Arnold and
Lancaster, may be, with safety, pronounced the grand pioneers in
modern improvement in England, the one in the advanced and the
other in the common public school. Undoubtedly there were many
enthusiasts and many successful teachers both before and since their
time, but these stand out in bold relief, and their views and contribu-
tions to the cause have mingled, and will still continue to mingle, with
the advancing tide of modern improvement.

Wilderspin, the next celebrated teacher we have no' ed, may be
considered, if not the originator, the principal propagator, and the most
successful conductor of the Infant school system in England. These

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institutions wore amazingly popular about forty or fifty years ago.
They were set agoing mainly to meet the condition of manufacturing
and mining districts, where both parents were employed at the public
works, and the younger children between four and six consigned to
the charge of those who were only two or three years older. These
institutions for the time did good service, though they never realized
the expectations of their friends and advocates. Generally speaking,
they were conducted on the objective system, without much real
iutellectual or moral training. Wilderspin was a most devoted and
enthusiastic supporter of these institutions.

We cannot leave the history of poj)ular education in England with-
out ascribing our meed of praise to Sir J. Kaye Shuttleworth, by whose
unwearied industry and enlightened zeal the present system of popular
education was inaugurated. It may be fancied by some that Sir James
acquired his well-merited fame in connection with the purely exterior
departments. This is not the case. Both he and his friend, Mr. Tuffnell,
set agoing the Normal School of Battersea, near London, and for years
supported that institution out of their own private funds, where they
experimentrJized on the various systems, and where, if they originated
nothing new on the matter of method, nevertheless they imparted a
mighty stimulus to this class of schools, and inscribed an indelible
imprimatur on the superiority of well trained teachers to all others,
however profound their genius or scholarly their attainments.

But we must now turu to Scotland. The grand imperfection
of the parochial or national system of this country was its want of
provision for an increase of the population, and its consequent in-
ability to meet the wants of densely peopled localities, or mining and
manufacturing towns as they sprang up, oftentimes in regions where all
was sterility or empty desolation. This was the case with the church
as by law established, and which led to the most disastrous resixlts in
reference to religion and morality. And it was equally so in educa-
tional matters until the riot which took place in Edinburgh on let
January, 1812, which aroused the attention both of the ecclesiastical
and civil authorities, and led to the devising of various means with the
view of diminishing the mass of crime and misery then brought to
light. The founding of the Sessional schools was one of these means.
In the year 1819, circumstances led Mr. John Wood, Shenff-deputy of
the county of Peebles, to take an interest in the institution ; and that
benevolent individual began by degrees to give so much of his time and
attention to it, that it soon became almost identified with his name.
Under his superintendence a large and commodious school-house was

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erected, and the system of teaching entirely remodeled. In the latter
department of his meritorious labours, Mr. Wood can scarcely hv said
to have adopted or reduced to practise any particular views, or taught
any branch that had not been taught before, but he managed to impart
a new impulse to elementary education, and that by the pursuance of a
simplifying process in all the branches, and especially in the derivation of
the vocables of the English language and mental arithmetic. Whatever
was the branch of knowledge taught, he laboured, and that successfully,
to make it plain to the understanding of the children. If there were
any words they did not understand, or had not seen before, he pointed
out, in a vivid way, tho root, the power of the prefix and affix, and
from their primary import deduced the various shades of their secondary
signification — or if the sentences were com'^ylicated, he cut them up
into small portions, explained them piecemeal, and so arrived at a full
understanding of the meaning of the passage. Nothing was committed
to memory without an attempt to reach, at least, their intelligence
first. Wonderful feats were also performed in mental arithmetic.
When this art is taught concretely before it is abstractly, and when
begun so early that it grows with their growth ; and still more, when
taught in a way that the principle of the different rules is thoroughly
comprehended, it is truly marvellous to what a degree of proficiency
the young may attain. By these and similar means, Wood succeeded
in imparting new life and energy into the common school, dissipating
the old fashioned stereotyped mode, and doing for the intellect what
Lancaster in England had done for the body. He is amply entitled
to the honour of being the founder of what is styled in the following
chapter, the Verbal and Explanatory system. Wood was greatly
aided and cheered on in his labour of love by a host of devoted
philanthropists and educationists. Amongst these were Dr. Andrew
Thomson, minister of St. George's, author of several books, and Mr.
Gall, printer and publisher, author of * Nature's Normal School,' and
several other educational publications. The system was also intro-
duced among the higher classes in the city of Edinburgh through the
medium of the Circus Place schools, which were taught by gentlemen
of highest professional eminence, and whose labors and books gave
celebrity and eclat to the system. We need but mention the names of
Drs. MaccuUoch, and Reid, and Oliphant, in corroboration of this
remark. Mr. Gall was the pioneer of this system in Sabbath School
instruction.

Whilst all these operations were going on in the metropolis of
Scotland, a far higher, and nobler, and more enduring experiment was

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Wing worked ont by a Mr. David Stow, a manufacturor in Glasgow,
and a native of Paisley. The following beautifully written historic
statement of the lubours ot this devoted philanthropist, is from the
pen of the Rev. W. Frazer, minister of the Free Middle Church,
Paisley, for years a teacher in the Normal School, Glasgow, and
mithor of several valuable contributions to the cause of education :—
"It is now fifty years since in the Salt-market — the St. Giles of
Glasgow, a young merchant, having to pass almost daily through a
reorally sunken part of the city, prompted by a desire to save some
from a life of degradation, gathered in, on the Sabbath evenings, to a
(Jingy apartment in a back lane, about tliirty young Arabs of the
moral wildernc^ss. Alone and iiidieeded, like hundreds of Sabbath
School teachers, lie toiled to benefit his rude and ignorant scholars.
With these naturally in confusion before him, he commenced his work ;
and the light in which, from the outset, he regarded his class, gave
promise to a higher and gentler culture than was then common in
ordinary schools. Atnid all these circtimstances of poverty, rags and
filth, he viewed them as on u equality with himself, rational, respon-
sible and immortal, having minds as delicate, curious and complicated
in structure as his own, with emotions to be cherished, intellectual
faculties and moral powers to be sedulously trained. lie determined
to use no corporal punishment, to expel none, to rule, if possible, by
kindness alone, to appeal to the higher principles of their nature, and
to draw their sympathies to the side of order and truth. It is not
surprising that under such treatment, a mode of treatment new to the
young hearts there, all the scholars became respectful to their teacher
and ardent in study, that a less saddened expression appeared in th«
countenance, and a lirighter intelligence soon beamed in the eye. He
laboured perseveringly ; and was convinced that corporal punishment,
though the quickest and simplest discipline, was decidedly unnecessary,
and that the stimulants of prii.es and place-taking, like all stimulants,
are unhealthy.

He found that the best way of conveying truth to young and
untutored minds, was to present a distinct picture through the imagi-
nation to the intellect ; and thus originated what he calls " picturing
out in words." It is most natural. Is it not because of this life-like
picturing, Jack and the Bean Stalk, Cinderella, Robinson Crusoe, and
the Pilgrim's Progress are such universal favourites ? This picturing
out is felt by him to be a new power, and he sometimes requires to
work it constantly. He accepts whatever facts and opinions the cliil-
<lren can give bearing on the subject of tae lesson, adds whatever may
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be essential as the basis of the conclusion sought, exercises them in
drawing inferences or forming opinions, and by his various processes
oi pictnrinr/ out in words, and by patient applications of the children's
powers to cultivate .^eir sympathies, reason and taste.

For the sake of oi'der, attention, and the simultaneous, as well as
individual exercises of the pupils before him, he arranged them in
parallel forms, and thus saw the advantage of Gallery Training, which
he afterwards introdaced into the common school.

Observing the delight the scholars took in drawing their own
inferences from clearly enunciated premises, and convinced that
increase of power woukl be the effect of exercise, he resolved to
Jissociate each pupil with himself in the work of education, and laid
down for his own guidance, a rule not to tell anything which the pupil
could himself infer. And on this rests the important distinction
between teaching or telling, and training.

As he cojitinued to toil on their behalf, he marked strong mental
sympathies subsisting among his pupils, which, althougli he laboured
to catch all their peculiarities of thought and feeling, he could not
share, and resolved to tura this also to account as a power in moral
training. The name he appropriately gives this power is Sympathy
of Numbers.

Longing to follow his scholai-s to their haunts, to see there the
effect of his Sabbath teaching, to get a glimpse of their habits and a
clear insight into the character of each, and finding that his labours
were comparatively fruitless, and even must be so while the six days'
week-day training in the streets was placed against his two hours
teaching on the Sabbath evening — he determined to establish a
counteractive to street-training through schools with play-ground,
that he might not only give a deeper flush of health to the pale cheek,
but impart a finer and more vigorous moral tone to the character.
For this purpose he set up a two-fold agency, which he called the
" Covered and Uncovered School."

A system thus springing not from amid fancies, bnt facts, not from
incidents but coincidences, but from observation and deep thoughtful-
ness, must have, we should infer, greater strength of principle autl
appropriateness of practice, than those methods, which have been
hastily evolved, or than those which have been slowly evolved from
amid abstractions too transcendental for the verities of this practical
human life.

. Mr. Stow, looking to the secular and spiritual interests of the
young of that sunken district "-^mmenced in 1826 week-day school*

ART OF EDUCATION.

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on a small scale at first ; and dealing chiefly with the young as the
most liDpeful, brought out striking results. Pale faces crowded into
the schools ; and amid the cheerfulness of the work and the excite-
ment of the play-ground, they lost much of their early haggardness,
and the peering sharpness of premature intellectuality gave place to
the franker and more ingenuous expressions of intelligent boyhood.
But there was a still more striking result. In the play-ground, flowers
shod abroad their beauty and fragrance, and many a young face, too
early haggard, bent in admiration over them, but no hand plucked
them ; and, better atill, tempting fruits, as currants and strawberries,
ripened and remained untouched. All this was the result, not of
corporal punishment, for there was none — nor of terror, for it was
unknown there — ^but of distinct and solemn references to the unknown
Father, of the declarations of Holy Writ, and of their own sense of
right. Instances of this power of self-restraint, were it necessary,
might be multiplied. Are not facts like these of immense importance,
as testimonies to the power of Bible truth when presented to the young
heart, not austerely, nor through dreary tasks or repetitions, but
thoughtfully, lovingly, and with cheerfulness, and to the value of habit
as an educational power.

The very circumstances in which the system was originated and
applied give it naturalness, adaptation and power. Its progress has
been almost continuous, though, as might be expected, through mani-
fold misinterpretations and obstructions. "When teachers found thr.t
corporal punishment, prizes and place-taking were set aside, that
play-ground superintendence was indispensable, and Bible training a
part of every day's duties ; and when school committees and patrons
discovered that the play-grounds were expensive and the trained
master's salary high, it was laughed at as visionary aud impracticable.
The system, however, soon commended itself to the most thoughtful
educationists of that day, as sound in its philosophy and beautiful in
its results. After a tour of inspection through Germany and France,
and a careful scrutiny of the Prussian and other systems of primary
education, Mr. McCrie, son of the well-known Dr. McCrie, and him-
self a distinguislod student, gave it as his opinion that there was
nothing of real value in the inner or life-work of these schools which
was not embodied in the Training system, and that, iu aiming at the
formation of moral character, it had elements of strength aud interest
which they did not possess.

Not long since, Dr. Duff, and there are few, if indeed any, higher

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educational authorities, publicly affirmed that it was the best system
he knew.

The most noble the Lord President of the Council on Education,
stated in the year 1841 to a deputation from Glasgow, who prayed for
a grant to assist them, that all the improvements in education, worthy
of the name, that of late years had appeared in England, could easily
be traced to the Normal Seminary in Glasgow.

But testimonies are valueless. The system must stand the test of
incessant scrutiny, and it is doing it. It has now found its way into
many of the most distinguished and influential institutions of Britain
and other countries. Its leading principles and their application are
meeting with general approbation, and have done more, it is generally
admitted, to revolutionize and raise the educational opinion of Britain
than any other system. Some of its features are almost everywhere
traceable in our public schools ; and I have no hesitation in affirming,
that apart from mechanical methods and details, there is no educational
principle of any value at present enunciated and practised in England
which has not been long represented by this system."

Such is a brief account of the history of a few of the more promi-
nent features of that system as to the mode, which is alone entitled, in
all its length and breadth, to the designation of The Training System.
Its grand aim and object is the formation of character through the
cultivation of the physical, intellectual, moral and social powers of the
young. And it effects all this by exercise or training. It is the first
systematic attempt in the public school to carry out, in its most
extensive sense, the scriptural rule, " Train up a child in the way he
should go."

Method in America. The history of the American continent on the
subject of method is soon told. In so far as quantity and all exterior
arrangements, especially in the New England States, are concerned,
America has obtained a world-wide celebrity, and rightfully stands
pre-eminent above all the other civilized nations upon earth. On
the matter of quality, however, or that which appertains to the inner
life of education, we are not aware that there are any, who, by their
own observation and experiment, have worked out any great or
important principle, or originated any new views on the development
of mind through the instruction imparted. That great and distinguished
educationists have arisen since the American nation took existence as
an independent and distinct Republic, does not admit of a doubt ; but
their efforts and enthusiasm have been directed more to the external
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practice than giving even greater breadth to any new views that
may have sprung into notoriety in older countries. Mighty as have
been the exertions put forth in Britain within the last thirty years to
obtain a class of duly qualified teachers and to make the most ample
provision for this purpose, she has not surpassed the American nation.
The first regular Normal School established on this continent was in
1831, in the State of Massachusetts, v/hen not less than three sprang
into existence, one at West Newton, another at Bridgewater, and
another at Westfield ; then in 1845 another, on a very extensive scale,
was established at Albany for the State of New York, and now there
is scarcely a State of any standing without its Normal School in one
shape or another. The agitation in their favour commenced as early
as 1825 by the Rev. Thomas Gallaudet, Principal of the American
Asylum for the education of the Deaf and Dumb, by a series of essays
in the ' Connecticut Observer.' These soon awakened attention, and
the subject was freely discussed at Teacher's Associations, and through
other media by the then leading minds in the cause of education.
Those connected with the working of Normal Schools, and especially
their Principals, have been men of the most enlightened views and of
the most enthusiastic zeal, and have proved eminently successful in
diffusing more exalted conceptions respecting the profession of teach-
ing as well as inspiring teachers with a higher sense of the dignity and
utility of their office. Among the foremost of these was Mr. Page,
the first Principal of the Normal School at Albany, and author of the
' Theory and Practice of Teaching,' one of the most fascinating books
that has appeared in any country on the business of teaching ; which,
though it may make no pretensions to any originality of views in the
inner life of education, seizes with a firm grasp the grand end of the
education of the young, and delineates with graphic power and beauty
the responsibility of the office of the teacher. This book should be in
the hands of every young teacher. Much has been done in America in
heightening the attainments of teachers through the medium of local
associations, and, especially, of the American Institute of Instruction.
These general associations have been in existence since the commence-
ment of this century. The American Institute of Instruction was the
result of a movement which commenced by a meeting of teachers
and friends of education at Boston in 1830. It was incorporated in
1831 by the Legislature of Massachusetts, and his received an annual
grant from that State. Its series of annual meetings is still continued,
and its accompanying series of annual volumes of lectures has now

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reached the thirty-first, and includes a valuable mass of useful, the-
oretical and practical discussions.

These associations, or, at least, a large number of them, have, how-
ever, now merged into those of a more permanent form, viz., the State
Teacher's Associations, of which there are upwards of thirty, some of
them acting with remarkable efficiency for the professional improve-
ment of teachers. These associations, with their affiliated county
societies, receive State aid, and are legalized as part of the national
system. Tliese are but temporary Normal Schools, and must prove
of immense service in helping trained teachers to keep up to the mark.
The press, too, has been rendered highly serviceable in qualifying
teachers, and diffusing sound intelligence and useful views. This has
taken the shape of journals and magazines, and reports of Superin-
tendents of education.

Two of the most distinguished and enthusiastic educationists that
America, or in fact any country hath produced, are Horace Mann
and Henry Barnard, of both of whom we must make a short
notice. The former was for twelve years Secretary of the Mas-
sachusetts Board of Education, and never did man make a more
unreserved surrender of himself, and of his time and energies to any
cause than did Horace Mann to that of education. His seven lectures
and his twelves reports, as well as the account of the visit he paid to
Germany for the purpose of inspecting the Prussian system, are all
published, and form an enduring monument of well-directed zeal in
the public service, as well as of large, comprehensive and practical
views of educational improvements, and of his power, as a master of
the English language. Mr. Mann's labours were principally directed
to the exterior of education, but he also discusses, and that with no
ordinary power, the modus operandi, and generally takes the most
enlightened views of this department.

Henry Barnard is one of the greatest veterans in the cause of
national education, and indeed of all kinds of education, — one of the
purest philanthropists the world ever saw. His writings on the subject
are more voluminous than those of any other living author, and perhaps
of any other author dead or alive. His work on National Education
in Europe, betokens an amount of industry, research and perseverance
but rarely paralleled. His treatise on school architecture is expansive,
and the authority both on the continent of Europe and America.
His American journal of education is perhaps the most elaborate and
expansive work on education, in all its aspects and phases, that this
or any civilized Christian nation has yet productd. Barnard has

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been twice Superintendent of Education for Connecticut, and once for
Rhode Island ; his writings and reports, when he held these situations,
contain a vast amount of valuable instruction. Though he cannot lay
claim to any new method of teaching in any one depai'tment, he pos-
sesses accurate and comprehensive views on almost every topic and
branch of education, and generally argues for the most approved and
advanced. Time and space will only admit of our further referring
to the (names of Abbott, Alcott, Beecher, Burton, Davis, Emerson,
Griscom, Hall, Palmer, Potter, Russell, all of whom have contributed
largely to the improvement of education, and whose writings on the
profession are invaluable, and slioald be in the library of ev€ry faithful
and pains-taking teacher.

Skction III. — The Leading Systems.

The term method, has great latitude of meaning in education, as in
other matters. It is sometimes applied to the external arrangements
and sometimes to the inner work of education, sometimes used gener-
ically in reference to the one a.nd other, and sometimes specifically,
sometimes synonymously with system and at other times distinct from
it. We confess our liking for the distinction that has been drawn
l)etween the terms method and system, using the former geuerically
and the latter specifically, the one pointing to the principle or manner
of arrangement and the other to the arrangement or classification
it8el£ This distinction is, in a measure, drawn by men of science in
characterizing the arrangement of stones, plants or animals, or what
ever sciences they happen to deal with. Every one that possesses
any knowledge of the kingdom of nature, is aware of the twofold clas-
sification that obtains, — the natural and the artificial, the former being
founded on the similiarity or dissimilarity of the various parts, the
latter upon a few of the more important organs, or properties. The
natural classification has received the honoured appellation of method
and the artificial tliat of system. And hence the former has been
designated the natural method, the latter tho Linnjean system- The
same kind of distinction ought, we think, to be observed in education —
method, having respect to the manner or principle of arrangement, in
the application of the philosophy and art — system, to the specific form
or forms, which that arrangement teaches.

Now whether we look at method in Us past history, or in its present
aspects, as practically dilineated, it is no small task to gather up, and
classify the various distinctive systems. There has been so much
<io-:,t>t&\l\Dg of the one into the other, so much mingling and inter-

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mingling, that it is no easy task to draw the line of demaycation be-
tween them, or give to- each system its due, or its author, his fair meed
of praise. There are three ways in which this subject may be looked
at ; — either as it regards the organs or faculties, that may be more
directly cultivated, whether the physical, the intellectual, the emotion-
al or moral ;— or at the way in which the organs or faculties are
operated upon, whether by a mechanical, verbal, explanatory or
experimental process ; — or by affixing the name of the author, or in-
ventor to any particular view, or plan, or aperation. It matters little
as to the origin of the nomenclature, provided there is a clear line of
division, ojie sufficient to distinguish the ane scheme or system from
another. We give the preference to the middle course, as being on
the whole the best by which to characterize the systems, that have
obtained any general currency in any country or community, and we
arrange them, not according to the time they came into vogue,, or were
launched upon the world, but to their real intrinsic worth and merit.
The following list, will, we think, well nigh exhaust the subject; —
1. The note or the mechanical system. 2. The Monitorial. 3. The
Explanatory. 4. The Objective> and 5» The Training.

1. The Rote ^stem. This, ju'operly speaking, is not worthy the
name of a system. A system implies aj3 arrangement or an orderly
exhibition of some facts or truths, founded on some important princi-
ple. But here there is neither order nor principle. The only thing
entitling it to the designation of system is the invariablencss of the
■way in which it is prosecuted. The term is evidently derived from
the word rota, a wheel, and, considering the thing itself, it is by no
means inappropriate. The rote system then consists of a round of
words, a frequent repetition of words or sounds without the least
attention to, their meaning, or the thoughts and principles they x'epre-
«ent ; the impressing of words on the memory without any effort of
the understanding to comprehend them. This is not oii'y the mo«t
ancient mode, but, in all probability, the one still most generally
practised. At the outset, public education seems to have consisted
almost entirely of a repetition of words, or sentences, or rules, without
the slightest attempt at explanation ; and, still less, at depositing in
the mind the ideas embodied in these words or rules. And is not this
practise pursued to a large extent still, even in countries accounted
enlightened and advanced in the cause of education ? Wliatever the
system of education pursued, there have always existed, and still exist,
a goodly number who are inefficient because indolent workmen, and
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at the commencement of their career. They are in every sense of the
term hirelings, and to save themselves trouble and toil, they are
content to go their gin-course round or to ring the changes on words
and sentences.

"Whoever knows anything, — even the very alphabet of the subject —
will readily admit that this is not education. By dint of exercise it
may strengthen the memory, though even to thia faculty it scarcely
does justice, resolving as it does all into the mere memoiy of words.
In its day, it has undoubtedly made some excellent linguists ; but in
so far as the educational process is concerned this seems the amount
of what it hath accomplished. In the case of those, who, by the
expansion of their reflective powers, have burst asunder the bonds by
which it enslaved them, it has proved of service only in so far as the
repetition of words or sentences is entitled to be so considered. From
beginning to end it treats the young as machines. And hence the
general mental dwarfishness of those who have been taught under its
auspices and directions, and whose mental energies have never enabled
them to shake themselves free from its trammels, or to rise superior
to its mechanical bondage.

2. The Monitorial Systetn. This system has its name from the
more advanced scholars acting as the teachers of the younger. One
master, in the capacity of a general or dictator, presides over the
whole establishment, consisting of two, three, four or even five hund-
red children, gives instruction both general and particular to his lieu-
tenants — the teachers, who are called monitors, from their acting as
advisers or counsellors, and through whom he regulates and controls
and adjusts the whole.

The monitorial system as already noticed, owes its origin to Dr.
Bell of Madras, and Joseph Lancaster of England, both deriving their
ideas of arrangement from the evolutions of the army and navy. It
undoubtedly possesses much that is attractive and useful. It gives
education at a comparatively small expenditure of means and agency.
If 500 children are taught by one teacher, that is, only one person re-
quiring to be remunerated, then verily it must be at the smallest cost
imaginable. It awakes, too, from the apathy and indifference of the
old stereotyped rote system, and imparts a mighty impulse to the out-
ward forms and mechanical arrangements of the school establishment.
It gives a sort of instruction to a large mass of the lower orders, or
classes in communities, who might otherwise remain altogether desti-
tute of it. It is well fitted to discover those who possess an aptness
to teach, whose gifts might be more beneficially employed in teaching

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them in any other pursuit or calling. Modifications of this system in
every shape and form, have produced the most satisfactory results.
Monitors have been employed in some departments under every sys-
tem with marked efficiency and success.

But whilst it possesses these and similar benefits, the monitorial,
as such, when weighed in the balance of its intrinsic merit, has been
found wanting, — the semblance, and not the reality of education. How
is it possible that a green and raw apprentice in any branch of busi-
ness can execute and finish a piece of work, like a thoroughly trained
tradesman ? Monitors may and do impart a certain amount of secular
knowledge, in accordance witli the rote system, but this is the utmost
of their capabilities. They cannot touch the latent springs of human
action, either intellectually or morally. This demands the skill and
experience of the best master-teachers, of men who have fathomed
the human mind in all its depths, and who have studied and studied
profoundly the effects of the various appliances brought to bear upon it

But this system is injurious to the monitors themselves. Its direct
tendency is to pamper their pride, their arrogance and self-sufficiency,
and ther'^by to unfit them for personal improvement, lor progres-
sive advancement. No one, who has witnessed the self-important
gait, and manners and strut, of many of these quasi-educators while
engaged in their temporary official elevation, but must be convinced
that whatever intellectual vigour, or excitement, or fury they may have
acquired by exercise, their own moral training is seriously damaged.
But worse th u all, this system presents innumerable snares, and
temptations, to both monitors and pupils. How often, for example,
have the former been detected favouring some and threatening others,
and that simply because in the one case they obtained by stealth all
they desired from them, and by the other were sternly and obstinately
refused! How often 3<5ain have pupils been tempted to come to
school with their lesp jns nv^ver even looked at, knowing and believing
that with a little bribery, they could manage to obtain a release from
all their obligations ! And how often have these temptations and
snares opened, to monitors and scholars of frivolity and deceitfulness,
the highway to vice and crime. All these evils have been seen, and
felt, and owned, and, accordingly, as a system it may be said to be at
present without any embodiment or fully displayed existence. The
Madras school at St. Andrew's, Scotland, so munificently endowed by
Dr. l>ell himself, and intended to ftirnish an exemplification of the sys-
tem, scarcely retains a vestige of it. The Borough Road school, London,
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the more prominent features of the system, now presents but the
merest skeleton, and even that bids fair, ere long, to be utterly
exploded, as behind the age, and unsuited to the demands of a pro-
gressive education.

3. Explanatory System. We call that system the explanatory
which aims at making the subject plain and palpable to the compre-
hension of the youngest and most stupid. This is done by a process
of simplification, analyzing words or clauses, and supplementing
facts and illustrations. It is sometimes called the intellectual sys-
tem, and in so far as that system consists in making things plain to
the understanding, and in storing up important and useful knowledge,
there can be no great objection to this use of the term ; though, at the
same time, it must be borne in mind that this is only a part, and a sub-
ordinate part too, of intellectual education in the sense in which it has
been already defined.

This system, in all its essential features, owes its origin to Dr. John
Wood, was practised first in the Sessional, afterwards in the Circus
Place Schools, Edinburgh, and soon extended to all improved ele-
mentary schools in Britain, leading to a complete revolution in their
inner life, giving to the mind the same activity and energy that the
mechanical or outward forms of Lancaster and Bell had given to the
body. This system, so far as reading was concerned, was carried on
mainly through the analysis or derivation of words. First by directing
attention to the composition of Saxon words, such as king, kingdom —
tea and pot, teapot — bookseller, «fec. ; then, more systematically, a
number of the more common roots of words in English, derived from
Latin and Greek, were selected, their meaning given, and then com-
mitted to memory. A list of Saxon, Latin and Greek prefixes and
affixes was also prescribed, and got accurately by heart. When
words of such composition occurred in the English lesson, the scholars
were commanded to analyae into their parts, and then to construct
sentences where these words occurred with their exact m^^anings
according to their original derivation. If these words were used in a
figurative or secondary acceptation, the pupils were required to trace
these throughout their various shades of meaning and history. In
complicated sentences the same plan was pursued; that is, these
sentences were divided into the'r separate clauses ; these clauses were
analyzed, and the whole drift or scope then given. On the introduc-
tion of this, much use was made of mental arithmetic. Beginning
with counting objects, adding and subtracting, then passing on to the
arithmeticon, and then to abstract numbers, it is marvellous the feats

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that were achievecl vvitli numbers by very young children, when thus
taught, step by step.

But whatever are the benefits flowing from this system, it labours
under many defects. Though an immense improvement on the old
mechanical rote system, imparting a for deeper and more systematic
form to popular education, it but communicates instruction after all.
Though it unquestionably exercises memory, and exercises it iu a
proper way, making that a memory of ideas as well as of words, yet
it neither cultivates nor strengthens any of the other powers of the
intellect, and far less those of the will and conscience. Though it
may keep the children alive by a series of questions and answers, It
does not conduct into the region of the unknown, or attempts even to
develop thought — it merely takes stock of the knowledge already
possessed ; good, in many respects, as far as it goes, it leaves much yet
to be done iu the important field of the education of the young.

4. Objective System. This system is thus designated, because
object-lessons constitute one of its most prominent features. This
consists in calling in the aid of the object described, and presenting it
to the sense or senses, either alive or dead, by picture or diagram.
This system was mainly concocted and consolidated and published by
Pestalozzi and by some of his coadjutors and immediate successors.
The grand aim of this distinguished philanthropist was to adapt edu-
cation more thoroughly to the nature and sympathies of the young.
Instead of confining it to books or second hand information, he insisted
on his jjupils sitting at the feet of nature, investigating her phenomena
and observing her laws. Pestalozzi evidently understood the intimacy
of the connection between the education of the perceptive and the
other faculties of the mind, and having assiduously laid a proper
foundation in the knowledge thus derived, be laboured to *"ain his
pupils to erect thereon the superstructure of reasoning and g< iliza-
tion. He also judiciously adapted himself to the emotional an., social
parts of their constitution, taking whatever advantage he could there-
from. Imbued with the notion that all our knowledge aross from
number, form, and language, he laid down this triple basis as that from
which all education should proceed, thereby effectually teaching bis
scholars to look at every object as one, or as unity and in its relation
to others, to look at every object not only numerically but iu its size
or proportion, as well as to append the appropriate name to every
such object.

This system is defective, shutting out, as it doesj, valuable doors of
knowledge, and attaching by far too much importpnce to others.

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Another grand defect of this system is its stereotyped character.
Pestalozzi laid down certain principles and regidations for carrying
it out, and insisted upon these being slavishly attended to, without
the slightest license being given to the teacher in adaptation to the
pupils, and thereby destroying the sympathy that ought to exist be-
tween them. "With decision and judiciousness does Karl Von Raumer
thus delineate this peculiarity. " But can any one imagine a more
miserable piece of slave work than that of a teacher who is strictly
tied to a Pestalozzian compendium ? Is not all j^eculiar teaching
thereby fettered, all disposition to sprightliness and decision in teach-
ing and acting kept down. All affectionate relation between teacher
and scholar rendered impossible.

But the crowning defect of the whole is the absence of the sound
religious element. In his anxietv to sit at the feet of nature, lie ex-
pected too much from her both in reference to himself and his pupils
He forgot that conscience was depraved and that our whole nature
was corrupt, and that some foreign help even the Bible was requisite
to give it light and life and stimulus. How forcibly ami pathetically
does Kamsauer one of his associates in labour for 16 years describe
this defect : — " Had the otherwise so noble Pestalozzi made the Bible
the foundation of all moral and religious education, I verily believe
the institution would still have been in existence, even as those insti-
tutions are still in existence and working with success which were
founded by Franke and others, 100 years ago, with small means but
in full reliance upon God. But, instead of making the pupils familiar
with the Bible, Pestalozzi and those of his assistants who conducted
the so-called morning and evening prayers, fell more and more each
successive year until they held a mere empty moralizing ; and hence
it may be understood, how it could happen that I grew up in this ins-
titution, was confirmed there, and for 16 years lived a very active and
morally good life, without acquiring the slightest acquaintance with
the word of God." " Therein," says Frazer, " lay its utter feebleness ;
the whole system wanted purpose and power. "NVliile Pestalozzi gave
many a noble creation of intellect and imagination, he yefc raised no
central column of enduring principle around which he might entwine
and preserve his special methods."

But let it not be supposed by these statements that we wish to con-
vey the impression that there is nought of real merit in this system.
With all its imperfections, it is a step decidedly in advance of all that
had gone before, in the matter of the inner life of education. It is
the first system that advances the pietensiou of bringing the educa-

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tional process into meet conformity with the findings of human nature.
True in tliis respect it is hiraentahly defective, for it scarcely touches
that part of our nature whicli presides over and controls all the rest ;
nevertheless it is fraught with immense henefit as a pioneer, as putting
the educational world on the right track to work out a full and com-
plete system. A largo amount of good has flowed from it. The in-
fant schools throughout various countries, have derived no small henefit
from this system, and especially from that part of it which elaborates
the whole of tlie objective system. The principles and methods of
Pestalozzi, in so far as they deal with the social sympathies of the
young, with the facts and forms of the external world, have not only
been largely adopted on the Continent of Europe but on this, and no
one can estimate the indirect influence they have exerted upon the
whole subject of popular education. AVell then has it been said con-
cerning Pestalozzi — " Let the brilliancy of his genius cover one class
of his weaknesses, and the deej) gloom of his sorrowful life another,
and let us take gratefully the fresh thoughts, generous aspirations and
enduring example, he set in working out conceptions, albeit unreason-
able or worthless."

5. Training System. The grand end of this system is the forma-
tion of character through the cultivation of the physical, intellectual
and moral powers of our nature, according to their intrinsic and
relative importance. This it does by a series of adaptations to the
more prominent characteristics of the recipients of education, and, by
the sympathy of numbers, it renders the peculiarities of each mind
subservient to the general good. The grand instrumentality it wields
in all its adaptation processep "- exercise, the calling into activity all
the organs, faculties and tc is of the scholars both individually

and relatively — and he signation Trainir.g, which just means

doing. And how d( -^trry this out ? In the education of the

intellect, for example, it not only imparts knowledge, but whets and
stimulates its varied faculties so that they are expanded and developed.
This it effects theoretically by the teacher coming down to a level
with the scholars, by verbal pictorial representations of objects or
things, with which they are perfectly familiar ; and, practically, by
questioning and ellipses, leading them on from the easy to the more
difficult, from the known to the unknown, and thus to draw their own
conclusions or form their own opinions. In reference to the education
of the conscience, there is something more in this system than the
mere communicating of religious and moral instruction derived, though
that instruction be from the pure undiluted fountain of eternal truth,—

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llio Bil)Io ; there is the acting in conformity thorcwitli, that ia, the
Bible is not only exphiineJ without tlio least tinge of sectarianism,
but it is reduced to practice in all the hitercourse between teacher
ami taught, between scholar and scholar. And the physical i)art of
our nature is called in, whenever it can be employed as an auxiliary
to both these departments, either in the expanding of the intellect or
in the imparting of sensitiveness to the conscience. And this is a most
powerful instrument for both these purposes, because of the very
relationship subsisting between matter and mind. lu order to the
effectiug of all this, with the view of deriving the greatest possible
benefit from the nature of the scholars as social beings, two things aro
requisite, a gallery with school and an enclosed phiy-gi'ound. By the
help of a gallery, with the children all arranged in parallel rows and
their eyes directed toward their teacher, the sympathy of numbers
operates far more powerfully, and so blends all their thoughts and sen-
timents into one, rendering, thereby, the intellectual and moral devel-
opment of one, or more, beneficial to the whole. With an enclosed
play-ground, the teacher, who, according to this system, is supposed
to be as steadily and vigilantly engaged with his pupils there as in the
covered school-room, obtains a far better knowledge of the disposition
and character of his scholars, than he can possibly obtain in the shut
up school room. Within, if all do not feel themselves in a place of
confinement, they are, to say the least, under restraint. In the open
air, on the other hand, every child is allowed to follow the bent of his
o\yn inclination. The steam will naturally be let off, and thus the
real character of the youth will be discovered. The teacher making
himself one with the pupils, entering into all their sports and amuse-
ments, is there more in the capacity of an observer than of a magisterial
head, or else the scholars would still be under restraint, and thus the
end fail of being accomplished.

By these and similar more minute details, the whole processes of
the training system are carried on, and only await a more practical, a
imiversal diffusion to revolutionize the whole subject of common
school education. The different steps in the development of this
system are detailed in preceding chapter, in connection with the
history of its distinguished originator.

Section IV. — Selection of a System.

This is a matter of primary importance. The selection of a good
national system of education, and the insertion of the same, by Legis-
lative enactment, in the Statute books of the realm, are matters

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which, in the estimation of all enlightened and patriotic statesmen,
yield to none in magnitude, yea, demand the highest efforts of
their genius, the most profound sagacity of the cabinet, the noblest
achievement;: of diplomacy. These individuals, penetrating the vista
of coming ages, and perceiving the priceless blessings which such a
measure is destined to confer on generations unborn, begrudge no toil,
or sacrifice for the accomplishment of such an object. The whole
nation is stirred to its lowest depths bv the oppositions, the contend-
ings, and the strugglings incident to .^.e carrying of such a measure
in the highest Legislative Assembly of the land. And all this because
it is pregnant w»th results the most momentous alike to the noble and
the ignoble, the rich and the poor.

And yet after all, what is this external system or legislative enact-
ment but the mere framework, the scaffolding of the inner life of
education contemplated by the subject under review. This is the
high, the special function of the educational authorities, the Superin-
tendent of Education and the Council of Public Instruction, if there
exist such a body. It is the selection made by these authorities that
shapes and moulds and regulates and controls every other department
of the national procedure, connected with the cause of education. It
even precedes the selection of the teaching agency. How deep
then the responsibility involved ! How transcendently important in
itself and in all its relations !

And, here the question naturally arises, what is to guide and direct
in making a suitable selection out of the systems enumerated ; whether
one is taken as a whole, or blended in part with others ? The an-
swer to this question is to us plain and palpable. There is no alterna-
tive but to adopt the system that seems to provide the best means for
the accomplishment of the object of education. That end or object
has been already settled by us in the second chapter of the first book,
viz., the growth and direction of all the parts of the compound nature
of the rising generation. And if the party selecting are at one with
us upon this point, the system is determined for them and ready to
their hand. It is alike the testimony of sound philosophy, and of
revelot'on, that nothing but the exercise of all the parts of our complex
being, will effectuate such a growth or secure the legitimate direction.
T'.iis has been proved, illustrated and ratified over and over again.
Whether we regard these parts in their lowest or highest quali-
ties, individually or collectively, in relation to time or eternity; if we
desire them to accomplish the high end of their existence, they must

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V)0 used or exercised in accordance with their intrinsic worth, and
tlieir influential capabilities.

And what is the system, which, hi its adaptation process, meets all
this ? What the system in all its plans, arrangements and operations
best fitted to Impart it? Unquestionably, that which requires the
scholars to use their varied powers and energies — tiik training.

Need we show how well calculated, every department of this system
Is, to make the pupils depend upon their own exertions, to promote
self-education. Whether we regard it in its external organizations, or
111 its internal operations and proceedings, it pve»^ents at every step
but a living commentary on the truthfulness of this position. Every-
tiling else, in fact, is periled and sacrificed for its maintenance, its
predominant influence, its due weight. Looking again at the varie<'I
parts in themselves and in their relations, what have we developed in
this system but a series of dove-tailed adaptations, all designed as they
ure fitted to give use to the organs of the body, to the energies
:uk1 ^sensibilities of the mind, to their reciprocating and reacting
iufluonccs. We pretend not to say that these adaptations are ex-
hausted, or that others more suitable, in similar circumstances, cannot
he called into requisition ; — neither do we say that this system, in its
appliances, has received anything like justice at the hand of its advo-
cates or propagators — but we do say, — and that without fear of contra-
diction, — that never did a system manifest a more intyense yearning to
<liscover and put into practice the apparatus and the methods that seem
hest fitted for the cultivation of all the complicated and delicate
machinery upon which it is called to operate, or put forth higher
efforts in the accomidishmont of the object contemplated. These
j^rounds, we hold, to be amply sufficient to direct the enquiring and
unprejudiced mind in the selection of a system, and not only in
imparting stability and glory to the system we have nominated as the
system, but the only system for guaranteeing at once the growth and
light direction of all the parts of tlie compound nature of the young.
We say nothing about the eulogiums that have been pronounced on
this system, by the greatest and most distinguished educationists
of the age. We say nothing iu reference to the fact that, notwith-
standing the unwillingness of some to acknowledge it, there is
scarcely an improvement in educational matters in modern times that
IS not traceable, in some shape or anotlier, to the labours of Stow.
Enough for us to know that there is no system :o admirably adapted
>is a means for the accoraplishment of the high end of education, —
that there is no system even capable of standing a comparison with it.
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Section V. — The distinctive features of the Tuaining

SVSTEM, or a full EXPOSITION OF TUE SYSTEM ADOPTED.

These features, as they developed themselves ta the mind of the*
devoted and enthusiastic founder of the system, have been already
noticed with more or less particularity. Nevertheless, we think it in
every way advantageous to gather them all together and present them
in a condensed, consecutive form, that they may be looked at in their
relation to other systems, embracing, as we conceive, all that is;
excellent in these systems, and yet shooting far in aiVance of them
all. At all events, a succinct enumeration of these features will be of
great service when we come to exemplify them in the teaching of the
different branches of learning. Then, we shall only require to show
their application to these branches respectively.

1. This system professes to educate all the parts of tlie child's
nature, both sepai'ately and unitedly.

This is its aim — its high errand. We say aim ; for it has never yer.
we believe, been carried out to its fullest extent, never yet been exhib-
ited in all its diversified and glorious results in consequence of the
external impediments it has encountered, even in the most advanced
and favoured circumstances. Nevertheless, this is its declared object.
even the cultivation of all the component parts of the child's nature,
and the more closely we approximate that object, the higher must be
our educational condition. That nature is twa-fold, — body and mind ;
the former being subdivided into systems of organs ; and the latter.
into powers, generally regarded as Intellect, Sensibilities and Will.
The Training system nobly aspires after the development of all these
organs and powers, and that under the heads of physical, intellectual,
aisthetical, emotional, and moral education. It not only regards these
in their separate, but in their relative existence, as acting and reacting
the one upon the other. It, accordingly, calls in the one as the hand-
maid and auxiliary of the other. In one word, it professes to educate
all the pai-ts of the child's nature, and these parts in all their relatioib
sympathies and tendencies.

2. J f' " system throughout all its processes draws a marked distinc-
tion betW' an teaching and educating, between telling and training.

It starts with the principle that education is a life-work, yea that it
is a work bounded only by eternity, and that the education of the
young cousi.sts mainly in putting them on tiie way of educating them-
selves. Taking up and holding the position that the child is the father
of the man, it endeavours so to connect his education as that when he
becomes a man, he shall bo able to think and feel and speak and act

ART OF EDUCATION.

aright. It is tlierefore far more concerned about the mode of impart-
ing the instruction, than the instruction or the knowledge itself. Not
that it undervalues instruction. Quite the reverse. Just .as the means
in every case rises in value in very proportion to the magnitude of
ti.e end to be served, so is it here. Wherever then it is proper, it
Imparts instruction, but in doing so, it strives to provide both the
means and the methods of getting more, and that by dint of the applica-
tion and investigation of the scholars themselves, preparing them for the
varied duties and trials before them. Thus whilst it regards instruc-
tion and education as inseparable, it does so simply because they stand
to one another in the relation of means and end.

3. This system strives to give a practical bearing, an out and out
application to all the knowledge communicated.

This is the very import of its designation. It attaches vast import-
ance to knowledge, but it does far more to wisdom — which is neither
more nor less than the reducing of the knowledge acquired to practice.
Accordingly, it not only shows speculatively the uses of any subject,
but it labours, as far as practicable to body forth and exemplify the
same. And this it does not merely for the purpose of demonstrating
the utility of the su ject itself, but of obtaining more enlightened and
enlarged views regarding it. JMuch of this it accomplishes through
the medium of oral lessons, and these principally on objects and pur-
suits, with which the young are perfectly familiar, but whose nature
and application they neither comprehend nor appreciate.

4. In the consideration of any subject it makes the analytical the
basis of the synthetical, the concrete of the abstract.

At the earliest period, almost from the moment that their observa-
tional powers come into play, the young manifest an instinctive desire
to subject every object to their senses, not merely to their sight or
hearing, but, if possible, to their touch, taste, smell. When they have
examined the object, it matters not what it be, and obtained a thorough
knowledge of it as a whole, as a reality, as a living being, a things a
substance, they then evince an equally instinctive propensity to dissect
it, to look at it in its parts, and again to reconstruct it. Look at the
little prattling girl of scarcely two years of age, how fondly she hugs
and caresses her doll> surveys it as a whole until she has obtained a
thorough knowledge of it, and can readily distinguish its general
appearance from every other doll. No sooner, however, has she be-
come familiar with it, than she proceeds to separate its parts. She
carefully undresses it, closely watches as she does so, how the one
part is appended to the other, and lays each part aside by itself. This

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(lone, she tries her skill and ingenuity in readjusting the whole, puts
on one article of dress after the other until she has completed her task.
She then leaps and skips in perfect ecstacy at the feat she has
achieved, regards the doll with higher complacency and satisfaction
than ever, and now, as specially her own. • This is the course of nature
and universally true. Our system, accordingly, meets this feature and,
at every stage of the educational life, from the alphabet up to the
highest department, gives the concrete before the abstract, the analy-
tical before the synthetical. It strives to conduct the scholars from
the region of the known to that of the unknown, never introducing a
subject without some stand-point, for both teacher and taught, some
common ground or principle on which to plant their feet, and to pass
therefrom by easy transition into the subject itself. This removes
education from the region of nominalism and empiricism, to that of
substantialities and of healthful invigorating influences.

5. This system, on presenting any subject to the minds of tbe
young, insists first in our doing so by broad outline features, — and,
after the pupils are thoroughly familiar therewith, to fill in gradually
the details.

The naturalness and utility of this course have already been adverted
to in a preceding part of our work. Suffice it here simply to say,
that by the adoption of this mode the subject, whatever its nature, is
far more clearly apprehended, both in its parts and relations, by the
law of associations rendered vastly more serviceable in future applica-
tions, more thoroughly incorporated into the human mind ; and, by
reason of all these considerations, far more easily remembered. In
view of all this, our system recognizes and acts out this feature, in
every one of its departments.

6. The Training system deals largely in oral lessons, but is espe-
cially characterized by that form known by the designation of word-
painting, or 'picturing out iu words.' Object lessons, the princi; J
feature in the objective system, owe their origin to Pestalozzi and his
coadjutort:. These are admirably adapted to the youthful mind in its
more initiatory stages — appealing as they do directly to the senses,
and thereby serving great and glorious purposes in the development
of mind ; and yet after all these lessons are defective, they can only
give us the knowledge of whatever is subjected to the senses. There
are many things, many facts or ideas regarding the dispositions, the
uses and habits of objects, whether animate or inanimate, that cannot
be communicated in this way, and recourse must therefore be had to
verbal description, which, to render interesting to the young, is

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presented in the shape of word-painting. This feature, in an oral
lesson, owes its origin entirely to Stow, and constitutes one of the most
prominent features of his system. It is founded on the principle, that
all mental processes can only be rendered intelligible to others by
external or visible objects or things, — every word being the sign, or
image, or representation, either of some object, or the combination or
relation thereof. Hence, to obtain a vivid idea of the secondary
or conventional import of any word, we have only to picture out its
primary or external signification, and give the application. (See
chapter on oral lessons).

7. This system carries on the instruction department, whether
through text-book or oral lessons, by questions and answers, and
ellipses.

The questioning and

answermg

process, sometimes call'

the

Socmtic mode of imparting knowledge, is the old :)ractice, and still
obtains, to a large extent, both in elementary and advanced schools.
Tl'e Training system does not exclude this, but it limits it to the two
points of ascertaining the amount of knowledge possessed by the pupils
on any given subject, as well as the imparting of the knowledge of
any fact or truth that may be essential to their reasoning out that
subject ; and it adds the all-important element of ellipsis, or that of
allowing the pupils to go on as long as they keep the right path,
drawing their own inferences and conclusions, or giving expansion
and enlargement to the views they already entertain. This is the
grand practical expedient devised by the founder of this system, for
the purpose of enabling the pupils to exercise :ir own thinking
powers — and an admirable expedient it is. It is the one resorted to
by the great teacher of Nazareth, and therefore must not only be
surpassingly excellent, but infinitely the best. It is pre-eminently
intellectual training. (See the whole subject discussed under intellec-
tual education).

8. This system carries on its questions and answers both simul-
taneously and individually.

In the adoption of one or other of these two modes, respect is had
to two things — the character of the pupils, and the nature of the sub-
ject, but chiefly the latter. If it is an exercise recited after being
prepared, the skilful teacher will diligently and carefully ascertain
whether it is thoroughly mastered by each child in the class. If, on the
contrary, it is an exercise in which thought is to be evolved, and mind
developed, he will work the whole class sinuiltaneously, allowing them
idl to answer at once, though oftentimes the answer will only be given

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by one or two, or such as feel the question to be a congenial one. By
this latter expedient, each child is allowed the free and unrestrained
use of his thinking powers. And by the former, all are stimulated to
exert themselves to the uttermost, feeling satisfied that there is no
possibility of their escape in the crowd.

9. This system renders the sympathy of numbers subservient to
the cause and interests of education.

The power and the extent of this principle — a principle common to
all — has been already explained. The training system is the first that
has attempted to apply this universal principle as an educational force.
That it may have full justice done to it, it first endeavours to have all
the externals in meetest adaptation ; — such, for example, as a well-
assorted enclosed play ground, the arrangement of the benches and
seats in paralell rows, with a gradurJ elevation backwards, if not
provided with a regular gallery, &c. Before proceeding to work, it
I'educes the whole of a miscellaneous school to a thorough system of
classification, testing, by every possible appliance, the whole of every
child's capabilities and attainments, so as to put him, not only in one,
but in all the branches, in his rightful position ; and, having got all
the exterior arrangements adjusted, it proceeds to all the steps in tho
educational process, with this principle full in view, and physically,
intellectually and morally, avails itself of its assistance. But it is in
the regularl}' graded school, it produces the most benign and powerful
results. There, seated in a properly constructed gallery, from fifty to
eighty children are called upon to vie with and outstrip one another,
intellectually, and to do the same physically, and morally, in the play-
ground. The power which this principle places in the hand of the
teacher is inconceivable, and, without which, the most skilful teacher
and the most approved mode are comparatively fruitless. But the
teacher, who knows anything of its power, is equally solicitous that
this principle be called into requisition, and habitually eyed in the
relation subsisting between him and his pupils ; and, accordingly, he
makes it a point in all his operations, in door and out, in recitations
and in discipline, to secure the good will and sympathy of all the more
intelligent and better conditioned of his scholars. These influence and
direct, or, at least, hush into silence, the indolent, the deceitful, and
the immoral ; thereby reducing, by one-half, the toil, the anxiety, and
ihe watching of the pains-taking teacher.

10. This system repudiates the separation of the sexes in the
educational process. .... .•

It maintains the position that the "beat scliool-room is the fomily

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327

riresicle, that the natural and most efficient educators are the parents,
and, consecjuently, wliatever obtains in the domestic arrangements ought
to bear sway in the scholastic establishment. "It professes to sit at the
feet of nature, to elicit its laws and to act out its principles ; and it
does so simply because all these are in meet adaptation to our con-
stitution. As, then, the sexes are educated together aiound the
domestic hearth, so ought they to be in the school-room, at least until
thoy are twelve or thirteen years of age. And all this because it is
In every way the most successful. Not only do the boys thus stimulate
the girls intellectually, but the girls the boys morally. And as already
noticed, this influence is not only reciprocal but reflex, — the males be-
coming vastly more intellectual, and the females more moral. Thus
ilo the blending and commingling of the two sexes, instead of being
prejudicial to the one or the other, produce the most exhilarating'
eunoblii'g and salutary effects upon both, and this not merely through-
out the school-life of the parties themselves, but tliroughout the whole
i)f tlieir future career, adding very naturally both to their usefulness
and happiness. Much, it is right to notice, of the success of this prac-
tice, depends on the moral tone that is preserved in the school estab-
lishment, as well as on the exterior fitting and conveniences, and on
the teacher exercising the most complete surveillance in the play-
ijround as well as in the school-room.

11. Tliis sytem acts on the priucij)le that no lesson is given till it
is recited and receiveu by all.

Much of the labour of the teacher is expended to no purpose, in
conseipience of his not being thoroughly apprehended by a half, at
least, of his scholars. The other half may have obtained a vivid con-
ception of the subject under consideration ; they give full and satisfac-
tory answers to the questions pfoposed, and the teacher quits the
siibject or question, under the impression that all is well and finished-
Not only is the one-half of the class or section in a great measure, if not
entirely ignorant, but many even of those who would bo pronounced
as possessed of a fair understanding of the subject, liave no clear
apprehension of the general scope, and still less of the relations that
subsist amongst its various parts. After the labour expended in pre-
paring or propounding the subject under review, this system acts on
the principle that no lesson is given until it is received ; and how is
this to be got at ? In no other way, we believe, than by requiring the
class, or every member of it, to present, after the recitation work or
exercise, whatever it be, is ,^one through, a viva voce statement, con-
tinuously, without the prop of questioning or answering, or what Ib

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still botUir, :i written syMoj)si.s or iihrid^cMucnt of the subject. Tlii» orn
system insists upon as ono of the infallible tests of (juality, and this is.
suroly vastly superior to large (juautities acquircfl in the most misty
and vague and inaccurate style. It counnenccs the exercise when thf^t
child has mastered the nutchanical work in reading; it (Miconrages the
most 8ti4)id and doltish to try the exercise, to tell, at least, what it is
about, and what is said or alUrmed regarding, it. Ah the child ad-
vances, to give further outlines, and by the liuu; he has arrived at his
ninth or tenth year, he is able to recite not only the grand features, hut
its most minute details — the time when, and thi; place wliere, the event
liap[)ened, the principal persons concerned, the circumstances accom-
panying and the results following. Thus is the youthful mind trained,
habitually trained to associate the reality with the thing signified, to
think as he reads.

12. This system makes it a paran)oant concerii to find out tiie
specific character of every child and governs itself accordingly.

It takes the position that every individual has some peculiarity in
endowment, in temper or disposition and in character, and that it is
alike the duty and interest of every teacher to discover this peculiar-
ity, and turn it to pi*ofitable account. The intellectual endowments
and attainments, are easily discovered by the simultaneous (juestioniiig
process of the system. The physical, vsthetlcal, emotional, and moral
features are gradutdly found out by close inspection and minute sur-
veillance in the cavere<l and uncoveixHl school room. This the train-
ing system endeavours to arrive at by natural and rational means.

It laboiu's to secure the confidence and attachment of the pupils by
gentle yet decided measures ; and withholds all those of forcible or
compulsory character, till every expedient and device have been re-
sorted to and tried. If it be necessitated to betake itself to threaten-
ing or the use of the roil, it is not till every other measure has failed.
and that merely by way of experiment. But how-ever much, it may
insist on the right, it rarely betakes itself to this exi>edient. It prefers
to lay hoM upon some peculiarity in the constitution, and through that
to get at the higlier principles of their nature^ the intellect, the emo-
tions, especially, the coiiscieuce.

13. This system, whilst it extends, in many respects, far beyond
the others, gladly avails itself of whatever in them suits its purijose,
or is in accordance with the great principles of our constitution, ratified
by the teachings of revelation.

Though we have already stated that Pestalozzi was the first, or, at
least, amongst the foremost who adapted his educational appliajiccs to

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tlu> Iiumiiii coiiMtitiition, we ui<! fur from maintuiiiiiig that fhoro woro
not many oxcicllciit (Mlucrationists luifori! his day, many of vvlioso j)lans
iuid operations wvva entlormMl and practically <rivon oflTect to l)y him.
And HO was it with Sto>y. IIo saw and mouriied ovor tho d(!f«!(;ts in
the modes of teac^lunij then gonorally praetiscid, and ina<le nol>K; efforts
to supply what was defective as well as to imjjrove what was in itself
nitional and sound ; yet he gladly availed himself of all that was
excelU^nt hoth amongst his predecesscns and contemporaries. This,
accordingly, is the character of the system which hears the impress of
his chisel. In all its essential liiu^aments, it is in advance of the
other systems, yet there are excellent points in thorn which it moat
cordially appro[)riatv3s. For example, in the accura<!y of tiie nu^moriter
process of the rote system, it alms at the same proficiency, though it
hiises it on the memory of ideas and not of words mer(dy — it uses
monitors in purely mechanical employments — it hrings to a most
prolitablo use the analysis of words, the simplifh-atlon of sentei;ces
and mental arithmetic, the leading feature of the explanatory system.
It deals very liberally, too, in object lessons, and in the other really
natural principles of Pestalozzi and his fellow-labourers. Whatever,
in fact, promises to add to the elRciency of the Training system, it
em])races, provided it is in accordance with the fundamental principles
of the human constitution, and with the high discoveries and hopes of
revelation.

Section VI. — Exempmfication of the Tuainino Systkm in

THF, MODK OK TKACIIING THK DIFFKRKNT BRANCUKS.

We have already considered these branches as veliicles of imparting
knowledge, either directly or indirectly, and we have also pointed out
their intrinsic and relative importance. We are now to regard them,
ill the teaching process, with a special reference to the cultivating and
strengthening of the various powers which they call into play. "We
|)ursue the order already indicated, commencing with

1. Vocal Music. "We take for granted that every child may be
taught to sing, just as he may be taught to read. All do not learn to
read with the same expression and taste, but all may learn to read
intelligently, that is, with a distinctness and impressiveness suflTicient
to convey the meaning of the author. To the same extent, we believe,
may all be taught to sing, provided their sense of hearing is organic-
ally sound, and brought in contact with melody or time in our infantine
<lays, and continued throughout our juvenile years. At first, we
believe, tliis exercise should be carried on meclianically or by imita-

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tion, and this till the child is nine or ten years of age. Not that dur-
ing this _)eriod there is to be no order or consecutivoness in thf
instructior imparted. The skilful and faithful teacher will proceed
here, as in every department, by gradation, from the more rudimontal
to the more advanced. After a few simple tunes are acquired, and so
acquired that every child tan recite them individually, as well as
simultaneously, the Diatonic scale should be taught — taught not by
notation but by the ear, forward and backward, up and down, until
the pupil can distinguish every note and give it forth at once when
required.

After they liave gone thrwigh these processes, and .".re well acquaint-
ed with musical sounds, both separately and in combination, the pupils
may then be considered as in a state of readiness to obtain instructiou
in notation, i. e., be taught to read music for themselves. They are
now in the same position in reference to musical sounds as the child is
in reference to the articulate elementary sounds of the English
language. When these sounds are carefully and correctly learned, the
child's next business is to acquire a knowledge of the marks or
characters that represent, or symbolize, the same, that is, of the
alphabet. And so it is in reference to the musical sounds. Having
acquired a connect knowledge of these sounds, and being able to use
them on every befitting occasion, the pupil is now prepared to go on
and acquire a knowledge of those marks which indicate these sounds,
and by which the musician becomes altogether independent of an
instructor ; at least can prosecute, after a fashion, his study both of
the science and the art.

And here a question arises whether the tonic, sol, fa, method should
be adopted, that is, the employment of figures as the representatives
of the sounds, or, as it is usually styled, sight-singing, or whether the
old system of notation should be pursued. The former is evidently
the more easily acquired, and is preferred by many musicians who
have had considerable experience in the teaching of the young. Tlie
latter is retained by all old experienced musicians as the method to
which they have been accustomed, and as the one generally prevalent.
From any examination we have given the subject, we are strongly
inclined to recommend the sight-singing, first ; and, when the pupils
are more advanced, a knowledge of the common notation. The
figures are equally efficient, and bring out as distinctly the different
musical sounds, and all that is required is the associating of the par-
ticular sound with the figure. The old notation system can easily he
taught at any subsequent period, when the pupils are more advanced

ART OP EDUCATION.

331

in their musical lore. It may be well, however, to introduce this at
huch an early period into the more advanced classes, that the pupils
may be able to read any time, with facility and intelligence, on leaving
school, and so bo able to derive gratification from the employment the
whole remainder of their days.*

School So7igs. To make a good and proper selection of school
liongs is no easy task. There must be first an adajTitation to the object
contemplated, whether that be secular or sacred. Whether the one
or the other, it must never be forgotten that the natural temperament
of the young is that of joyousness, and consequently that a great deal
of the sentiments contained ai school songs, should be in accordance
therewith, full of excitement and of mirth. The sentiment must be
true and manly, and correctly moral, and lastly the poetry must bo of
the pure genuine metal, such as will stand the fair test of criticism.
And if such is the general character of the songs befitting the school
room, how arduous the task of selecting from amid such a host of
poetasters, rhymsters and sentimentalists, those that are possessed of
the necessary qualifications. On no subject perhaps have we such a
miltiplicity of claimants and pretenders to popular favour. It would
seem that almost every body, who had any ryhming faculty, has attempt-
ed to swell out our school songs, and with the view of imparting to
them greater longevity has associated them with favourite national
airs. We know not a greater service that could be conferred upon
the whole of our school psalmody, than to subject it to the winnowing
fanners, and to extract from it the best and the purest grain, real gen-
uine poetry, enhanced and ennobled by refined- and correct moral
sentiment.

2. English Reading. This department when followed throughout
all its stages, will necessarily occupy a goodly number of pages. As
has been already stated, it is one of transcendent magnitude. It is the
gate of gates, the path of paths for the acquisition of all knowledge,
the key for the unlocking of all the other store houses, the foundation
and the corner stone of the whole scholastic structure ; and demands
on the part of the teaching official, the most i>rofound study, the high-
est professional skill, and the most laborious, painstaking assiduity.
It embraces: (1.) Mechanical reading or the teaching of the alpha-

* Notwithstanding our exalted estimate of tho value of music in '. school
room, whether primary or advanced, wc confess our inability to give any specific
Jirections on the subject. To all teachers, who have any tast« for such a study, we
would recommend the perusual of the able Treatises of the Rev. J. Currie, Princi-
pal of the Church of Scotland Training College, Kdinbro', on the Profession of
Teaching, as well as his separate publications on the Theory and Practice of music.

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TKAOHKRS TKXT-BOOK.

hot up to the easy and fluent proiuuicisUiou of the more common words
of the English language. (2.) Int«dlectual reading — from orthoepy
to the liighest elocutionary exercises — with its properties, principles
and rules.

Alphahet. No hranch of a common school education has recently
c.laimcfl a greater share of attention, or given rise to a wider diversity
of opinion than the one on which we now enter. Nothing can exceed
the absurdity of the old fashioned style of teaching the alphabet, a
style, in many localities, still prevalent. The following somewha'.
ludierous picture is drawn by the pea of Horace Mann. "The teacher
calls up a class of abecedarians, or, what is more common, a single
child, and while he holds a book or card before him, with a pointer in
hand, says n, the child echoes a ; then h, and he echoes h ; and so on,
till the vertical row of lifeless and ill-favoured characters is completed,
and then remands him to his seat, to sit still and look at vacancy. If
the child is bright, the time which passes during this lesson is the only
part of the day when he does not think. Not a single faculty of the
mind is occupied, except that of imitating sounds ; and even the num-
ber of these imitations amounts only to twenty-six. A parrot, or ai;
idiot, could do the same thing. And so with thr organs and members
of the body. They are condemned to inactivity ; for the child who
stands most like a post, is most approved ; nay, he is rebuked if he
does not stand upright. A head that does not turn to the right baud
or left, an eye that lies in its socket, hands hanging motionless at the
side, and feet immoveable as those of a statue, are the points of
excellence, while the child is echoing the senseless table of a, h, c, is a
general rule. Six months are spent before the twenty-six letters are
mastered, though tlie same child would learn the n.unos of twenty-six
playmates in one or two days." This is no overdrawn account ; it is
exemplified in five cases out of the six, wherever the alphabet is taught.
Need it then be matter of wonderment, that so many of the reforming,
progressive teachers of the present day, in view of these absurdities,
should have bounded, per saltum, to the opposite extreme, and boldly
taken up the position of discarding the alphabet altogether, at least-
till some progress is made in reading. This attempt, however, of
escaping the tedium of teaching the alphabet has proved a task hardly
less formidable than that of mastering the hieroglyphics of the Chinese
language. A similar defect must attend every attempt to over-leap the
elementary parts of learning, with the view of coming directly on the
pleasures of the more advanced. It is like seeking fruit where no
blossoms have been permitted to grow. Such a method can never

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ART OF EDUCATION.

333

iittain tljc end at winch it tun;s. The pleasure contemplated is never
i'ouud. It remains locked up, and the key has been thrown away.
The error proceeds on a mistaken notion of what is interesting. No
matter how groat or valuuhle the subject may be, it is not a blind
groping after it, that will give intellectual pleasure; but the exercise
of the understanding, performed clearly and distinctly, is, in itself,
naturally connected with a piin; and elevated delight.

On the supposition, then, that it is necessary that the alphabet be
taught before any real progress can be mado in reading, it becomes a
(jiu'stion of paramount importance, how this is to be done. To those
who look upon education in no higher light than that of imparting or
receiving knowledge, however useful, such a question will appear of
little moment, and awaken but small interest. " What does it matter,"
say they, '• how the child learns his lesson, provided he does learn it,
how the fact or truth is deposited in the understanding and memory, if
it is really there ; how the alphabet is acquired provided it is tho-
roughly and carefully got" ? Very different are the views of tliose who
look upon knowledge as mainly the means, and the growth or develop-
ment of mind in nil its capabilities of expansion as the end, — the grand
consummation of the education of the young. It is a good thing wlieu
sound knowledge is imparted, but it is vastly better whea that know-
ledge is comrauiiicatcd iu such a way as will awaken a thirst for more,
us well as provide the means alone capable of gratifying that thirst.
And if this is the case at all stages of the child's educational career,
it is specially so at the commencement. It is a trite, yet ti'ue sayingj
that a work well begun is half done ; and surely this is just as appli-
cable to education as to any thing else. The commencement of our
school-going days is a period to which we have been looking forward
either with fear and trembling, or with high hope and joyous anticipa-
tion, and, according to tl^e treatment we receive at the starting, will be
the impressions produced, end, iu all probability, our future progress, if
not our whole life's course. When does the gardener bestow the
greatest care aad pains upon the tender exotic, when, but at the
stage of earliest sprouting ? When in full and vigorous vegeta-
tion, it occasions him little or no trouble or uneasiness. So it
is with the mother charged with the nursing care of the tender
and delicate child. And so ought it to be with the teacher. How
deadly and pernicious the error ; that any person can teach the child,
whereas it requires the trained master to teach the advanced boy. Tf
the statement were reversed, it would be nearer the truth. The
highest perfection in teaching is the capability of teaching the child.

it I

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334

teacher's text-book.

i '■' .

And now is it asked, IIow should the alphabet be taught so as at
once to interest the child and develop his thinking powers ; in other
words, How should the alphabet be taught so as not only to be in
accordance with, but in illustration of, the Training system ? In reply
to this question, we shall first lay down some general principles indis-
pensably necessary for our guidance in this matter, and then give
some specimens of their application to the case in hand.

1. And surely no one will venture to call in question the position
that the alphabet ought to be taught in a rational or intelligent way, in
a way that will most eftectually accomplish the end in view. Tliat end
is to enable the child to read with distinctness and ease his own
language, and this can only be arrived at by one way, viz., by a know-
ledge of the appropriate sound or power of each letter. The child, by
a process of imitation, has already acquired the knowledge of all the
elementary sounds of his vernacular spoken language, so much so that
he can converse orally upon common matters with the greatest fluency.
His object now is to obtain a thorough practical knowledge of the
signs, or symbols, or representatives of spoken language in the chape
of words ; and as these words are made up of certain marks, called
letters, which have a certain meaning or power attached to eacii, his
first business plainly is, not only to become acquainted with these
characters so as to distinguish the one from the other, but with the
power or sound which they respecti\ ely represent. Written language
is nothing but a substitute for spoken., and must, from the nature of
things, be posterior thei'eto. The child ha3 already obtained a know-
ledge of the latter, and it is now his aim to obtain that of the former.
Written language consists of words with their appropriate pronuncia-
tion, but these words are made up of letters or marks representing
certain sounds, and as is the sound of each letter, so, generally and
substantially, is the pronunciation of the word. And how ir, this sound
or meaning to be acquired ? In no other way than by a knowledge
of the force, or power, or somid of each letter. Unfortunately there
is a great defect in these letters or characters, there being about forty
elementary sounds in the English language, and not more than twenty
six letters, even on t!ie supposition that these have all different
«ounds. Were there an exact correspondence between the marks and
the sounds of the letters of the English language, it would obviate
many of the difficulties connected with the teaching of the alphabet,
but this is not the case ; and, therefore, we have no alternative but to
make the best of our circumstances, and devise those means for teach-
ing the alphabet by which the end in view shall be best accomplished.

""■•^^ff!'^

AUT OF EDUCATION.

335*

Sow, whatevei' bo the diversity of ways in which the forms of the
alphabet may be taught so as to distinguish one letter from another,
there are only two ways we know of, by which the meaning or the
power of the letters may be taught, by theii- names or their sounds.
Tlie former is the common way resorted to, both by parents and
teachers, the way all but universally pursued. But, notwithstanding
tlie time-honored prestige of this mode and its almost universal pre-
valouoe, w<! have not tlie*sHghtest hesitation in pronouncing it utterly
incompetent for the end in view, nay. as the first step in that com'so
of mechanical routine and mental bondage to which too ma.iy of the
youth of our population are subjected on their entering school. We,
therefore raise our most decided protest against this mode of teaching
the alphabet ; and we do so simply because it is irrational, or Tn other
words preserves no thorough connection between the means and end.
We have said that the end in view in teaching the alphabet is to put
the children in a position to pronounce certain words by knowing the
soiuul of the letters of which these words are composed^ Well, let us
take a few samples and see whether, by the mere names of the letters,
Tve can give the proper sound of the words. Take the word me, one
of the first words that occurs in the primer lesson-book. The child 13
told to call the first letter <??« and the second e, but instead of pro-
nouncing it erne, he is bade to call it simply tne. Take another word,
hat. You teach the child to enunciate the letters, and they at once
say aitch-aye-tee, which, being put together, would make the word
(ii'tchatee, and yet they are commanded to call it hat. So with the
word leg. They name the letters ell-e-dje, and still they are instructe^^
to pronoiuiec the word leg, without tracing any connection between
the names they give the letters, and their power in the word itself;
nay, where there is in reality no connection whatever. And what is
all this but a solenui mockery of these children ! They are required
to get a knowledge of these letters for the purpose of enabling them
to pronounce the word, and yet that knowledge, instead of aiding,
actually impedes them. But the imitility of the name, sounds, or the
letters for the pronunciation of words, is not less apparent with
vowels than with consonants. The name sounds of any one of the
vowels is not the sound which will meet the child in one case out of
ten, five vowels having not less than fifteen sound' r modifications
thereof. Biit, over and above all this, the name sounds of the letters
can only be the same in number as the letters themselves. Now there
are, properly speaking, only twenty-two letters in the alphabet, t and
!/ representing the same sounds, q being ecpiivalent to k, x to gs or Us,

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336

TEACHER S TEXT-BOOK.

and c having no sound that may not be represented by s or k ; and
this being the case, there can only, by this mode of teaching, be
twenty-two sounds, not much more than the half of the elementary
sounds actually necessary for the articulation of the words of the
English language. This proves to a demonstration the utter incom-
petency of this mode, there being only twenty-two sounds by the
names of the letters, and the pronunciatipn of the words of the
language, requiring nearly forty, leaving thereby a defect of nearly
twenty letters, even supposing there were a complete correspondence
between the name and the real sound. I^ut, surely, enough has been
said to show that teaching the alphabet by the names, or n me sounds
of the letters, does not serve the end ; and that, if it is to be taught in
a rational way, it must be by giving the real sounds, — in other words,
it must be taught phonically. Then, whatever be the difficulties to be
encountered, — and, to say the least, they are not greater in the one
case than in the other, — there is real satisfaction in hiiowing that
progress has been made, that the mastering of a difficulty has resulted
in the acquisition of substantial benefit, and that even the youngest
child can trace the connection between th'^ r?eans and end.

But other important advantages will follow the adoption of this
method. By the habitual practice of the lingual organs in the acqu
«ition of the sounds, the foundation is laid for good reading, even for
the highest style of elocution. By this exercise the muscles employed
in particular sounds become supplified and pliant, and fit for the
work of articulating, with ease and distinctness, any sound chat may
be required. It is exactly the same here, as it is with the muscles of
the hand and fingers in instrumental music. If these muscles are
fully grown and consolidated, before they are used for such a purpose,
they will never become so serviceable to the possessor as they would
have been, had they been exercised when flexible and easily bent.
Though he may by unwearied, and persevering effort do much to remedy
such a defect, he will always be lacking in delicacy of execution. If
the muscles used in speech are not properly strengthened when young.
— and this can only be by exercise, — all after effort will never com-
pletely remedy the defect The true and only way then is to
commence when young. By teaching the real sounds of letters, we
are no* only taking the direct road to enable the young to read, but,
in course of time, to read well. But over and above all this, giving
the real sounds of the letters is as interesting and amusing as it is
advantageous to the young. This is performed by the lingual organs,
sometimes by the throat, sometimes by the teeth, a a, at other times,

ART OP EDUCATION.

337

by the lips ; and as this is done by the teacher showing the example,
and the children imitating, it never fails to excite their interest and
amusement ; and this is all the more increased when they are set
a-searching for particular letters, or words, in their primer, or box, or
tabular blocks. This trains them to diligent and cheerful employment
from the very commencement of their school-going days. The con-
clusion deducible from all these observations is, that the alphabet can
be alone efficiently taught by giving the real, and not the name sounds
of the letters.

2. But we would notice, in the second place, that if the alphabet
is taught in accordance with our system, it must be in a natural
way, proceeding from the simple to the complex. The child, before
he enters school, has acquired the knowledge of the sounds of words,
and how has he done this ? By going on from the easy to the difficult.
He catches the simple monosyllabic sounds first, such as ma, pa, and
the like ; and gradually extends his vocabulary to little words loss
easily enunciated, and then to dissyllabic words, and so onwards.
And all this the child does instinctively, it is part of its very nature.
Gradation is the law of humanity, from infancy upwards. What is
the whole history of man, — of man individually and collectively, of
man intellectually and morally, — but the history of gradation. And
if the reality is thus acquired, we have set before us a directory for
our guidance in teaching the signs. The simplest or easiest letters
should be first taught, and, after these are well learned, we should go
on progressively to the more difficult. And this principle should be
carried out, not only in the letters but words. Now it is well known
that there is neither order nor classification in the way in which the
letters are presented to us in the English alphabet. Indeed, it is
scarcely possible to conceive of anything more confused or unphilo-
sophical, than the order of the letters in the alphabet. The vowels and
the consonants, simple and compound, are all huddled together in one
heterogeneous mass. The first thing, then, that ought to be done by
the skilful teacher is, to arrange the letters in something like systematic
order, separating the vowels and the consonants, and placing the con-
sonants together, according to the organs with which they are articul-
ated. There are, indeed, several ways of arranging the consonants,
either according to the power of the letters themselves, or according
to the organs with which they are enunciated. The last mentioned is,
perhaps, the most natural and useful of the whole. The vowels (from
vocalis, sounding,) are seven in number, a, e, i, o, u, w, y ; of these
only three are simple, a, e, o ; i and u when pronounced with their

338

teacher's text-book.

V''

*'!,-
•:,^

t ■ J

i;lM|k!W{l^ 1

It.

1:?'

name sounds are compounds ; and w and y at the beginning of a word
or syllable are consonants. The vowel sounds of a are four, as in cmi,
cane, car, call ; of e two, as in met, me ; of i two, as in pin, jnne ; of
four, as in no, more, nor, not ; of u three, as in tub, tube, and bull.
The consonants (from co7i, with ; and sono, I sound, i. e. sounding
with something else), are thus arranged according to the organs of
speech with which they are pronounced.

1 . Labials (from labium, the lip — a sound formed by the lip) b, f,

p, V, w.

2. Dentals (from dens, a tooth — letter pronounces! by striking the

root of the teeth with the tongue) d, j and g (soft), s, t, z,
th in thin, th in thine, ch in chain, sh in shine.

3. Palatals (from palatium, the palate — letters chiefly sounded by

palate) 1, r.

4. Gutturals (from guttur, the throat — letters pronounced by the

throat) k and g ('hard), h and y.

5. Nasals (from nasus, the nose — letters whose sound is affected

by the nose) m, n, ng.

These letters or characters ought to be taught gradually, both in
their sound and form, going on from the simple to the more complex,
finishing the labials before proceeding to the dentals, and using various
means by which the scholars shall be thoroughly familiar with one
letter before they go on to another. The same course must be
pursued with words. In tlie earliest monosyllabic exercises, the
simplest words, that is, those in which each letter has its appro-
priate sound should be selected. Then should follow the words
with two consonants, either at the beginning or end of the word;
after this, the diphthongs ; and then the irregular and anomalous
words. Here, tlie utmost pains must be taken to see that the les-
sons are consecutively arranged in gradually ascending order, begin-
ning with the more simple and rising to the more diflicult in letters,
words and sentences.

3. Again, the alphabet should be taught in such a way as that the
scholars shall go on from the known to the unknown, from the reality
to the sign or symbol.

The children, before they enter school, are familiar with the names
of a great many objects or things. These names, it is true, are made
up of short words, and they may be able to do little more than pro-
nounce them, and tell their corresponding predicate or what they do ;
still, when they hear them named, they recognize them as friends.
No sooner are they asked if they ever saw a cat, or a pan, or a fan,

\%l

ART OV EDUCATION.

839

than their little eyes flash with intelligence, and, being properly
encouraged, they are prepared to tell all they know about these and
similar objects, and if pi'^tures of these objects can be hung up before
thera, or representations of the same be drawn on the blackboard, th
exercise will be rendered all the more impressive and interesting
But whether the teacher presents the picture or no, he should write
the words on the blackboard, informing his pupils that these are the
signs or representations of the reality. Having thus secured the
interest and attention of his scholars, he will then proceed to analyze
the word. He bids them tell the number of letters of which it is com
posed from sound and sight, and, then pointing to the first, dissects it,
shows its form mathematically, its parts, its power, or sound by itself
and in the word. The children are again remanded to their seat, set
a-searching for this letter or character in the primer, or in the box of
letters, or on the boards ; and, after they have found all they can and
counted them, told to make the same on their slates.

But there must be not only significant words but significant sen-
tences, such sentences as the children can easily understand, being
about things with which they are well acquainted, and in which they
are interested. And here there is another difficulty arising from the
anomalies of the English orthographj'. It is exceedingly hard to find
monosyllabic words that will bring out the different sounds of letters
in regular form, and yet capable of being constructed into short, easily
understood sentences. There cannot, indeed, exist greater anomalies
than are to be found in those monosyllables which are of the most
frequent occurrence. The old-fiishioned practice was, to combine two
letters, — a vowel and a consonant, or, a consonant and vowel, — such
as a-b ab, or, h-9, ba, and to ring the changes upon these sounds with-
out any sense or meaning. This practice is now well-nigh exploded
as a relic of the mechanical age of education, and something more con-
genial to the thinking nature of the young has succeeded ; and that is,
the introducing of the children all at once into the acquisition by sight
of thirty little words or so, which can not only be converted into, but
prove of vast service in the manufacture of, short significant sentences,
in all the future stages of their learning to read. The words which
have thus to be learned by sight, without spelling, are the following :
80, go, lo, no ; he, be, me, we ; at, am, an, as ; in, is, it, if; on, or, of,
ox ; by, my, thy, this ; up, us ; do, to, yes, no. The children will very
soon acquire a knowledge of these words from sight ; and immediately
thereafter, or even when this exercise is going on, make little sen-
tences from them. These sentences may be such as the following : I

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TEACkiER's TKXT-BOOK.

• 5

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am up. Is it I ? Is he up ? Go as I go. After the children are
able to read these sentences with tolerable fluency, words with the
short vowels ought to be introduced first ; such as the sound of a in
fat, e in met, i in pin, o in not, u in bull. At the same time the conso-
nants are taken up, according to the organs of speech with which they
are enunciated : an, at — ^ban, bat — fan, fat — pan, pat — wan, wat, &c.

These words are then arranged into short significant sentences,
which interest the child, and, at the same time, give the teacher an
opportunity of questioning him upon his knowledge of the objects
specified in the lesson ; and thus each lesson becomes the means, not
merely of teaching him to read well, but of adding to his stock of ideas.

Hitherto, each character has symbolized one sound only, and how
shall the teacher proceed to deal with the different vocal sounds so as
to enable the child to distinguish between the short, the long, or the
open sound of a in cane, call, car, «S:c. ? For this purpose, some con-
ventional arrangement is generally resorted to, some change in the
form of the word to indicate the change in the sound. Tlius, to point
out that a is long, we find a mute vowel at the end of the word, and
so with the other vowels. The child is already acquainted with the
short vowel sounds, and he only requires his attention to be called
to the convention to enable him to decypher the long sound. Take
the following as an illustration : — at, ate — ad, ade — ot, ote — in, ine—
fat, fate — mad, made — not, note — pin, pine. Let these and similar
words be combined promiscuously into sentences, "and the child would
easily learn to distinguish them and to give the correct sound. And
so must the teacher proceed with all the other vowel conventions as
well as with the diphthongs.

The next difficulty to be encountered is with the double consonants,
whether at the beginning, middle or end of words. These must be
proceeded with after the same fashion, gradually introduced, and in
definite order, according to their complexity, taking first those double
consonants, that have an elementary sound, and afterwards those that
have two or three sounds.

4. But we would Dotice, as the last general principle, that the
children throughout the whole of this process should be encouraged to
make out, as much as possible, the words and sentences themselves.

This can be done from the very commencement of the exercise by
accustoming them to place a letter before or after another, with which
they are well acquainted. Take o for example mid place 1, or s or g
before it, — s-o, l-o, g-o, and gradually contract until it becomes the
monosyllable so, lo, go. By procee<Ung iu this way, the children will

ou pronoui

•"' w^]]

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ART OF EDUCATION.

841

every clay be becoming more and more competent, until they are able
to read fluently themselves. Suppose the lesson to be on the sound of
ou pronounced like ow.

.out.

•oun.

n. . .

s. . .d

tr.

b. . . .

ab.

The teacher should never rest satisfied with merely telling the children
the sound ; he should endeavor to make them learn it for th-'raselves.
This, when properly managed, is a source of highest gratiluation to
them, and is afterwards of invaluable service in providing them with
the key for the pronunciation of similar words. Thus, if the children
stumble at such a word as rout, instead of giving them the sound and
allowing them to pass on, the teacher should at once analyze it ; thus
oil sounds ow, ou-t sounds out, and r-out, rout. Words of more than
one syllable should be gradually introduced, and for some time the
syllables should be separated by a hyphen ; thus, re-mem-ber. The
sounds of such words can be acquired as easily as those of monosylla-
bles, requiring simply an eiFort at combination, the pupils being already
familiar with the separate syllables. All new and difficult words
should be arranged in columns at the head of each lesson, and carefully
examined before the lesson is read.

We have thus discussed the four important principles essential for
the teaching of the alphabet, in accordance with the training system,
— principles which we hold to be in meet adaptation to the nature of
the child, and which, if fairly and legitimately reduced to practice will
render the acquisition of the letters, not an unmeaning and mechanical,
but a rational and agreeable exercise.

On the supposition, then, that the teacher has acquiesced in, and
thoroughly mastered these principles, that he is persuaded that the
phonic method, whatever may be the difficulties, is the only rational
one, and that he is perfectly familiar with the whole subject of orthog-
raphy, we now proceed to give a few specimens; by way of illustra-
tion, of the order of procedure.

The 3acher, then, is beginning a term, and there are a dozen of
the scholars, between the ages of four and six, in the abecedarian class,
who have never received a single lesson in the alphabet. On the
principle of making the school to such little children as agreeable and
cheerful as possible, no formal lessons on alphabet &c., ought, in our
opinion, to be given for a month or so. Not that the children aro to be
idle, or their minds to be unocc? nied, but that, as far as possible, the

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cotiimeucement of their school life should be a kiiui of contiuuat'oa
of the domestic arrangements of what the children have been accus-
tomed to — such as object oral lessons, the drawing of lines npon their
slaie, from objects palpable to the eye, and transferred to the black-
board ; first, straight lines of every form and shape, and then curves.
This, along with vocal music, physical exercises, — among which may
be ranked those of the lingual orgjins, linguistic gymnastics, counting
numbers, and committing to memory simple, easily-understood, pieces
of poetry, and the like, will furnish abundant employment for the time
specified ; and even after the formal exercises have commenced, this
preliminary work should be carried on to a very considei-able extent.
The acquisition of mechanical reading, or the proper pronunciation
of words, may be conveniently divided into two parts, and these into
several stages.

Part I. — The knowledge of the letters.

Stage 1. Simple consonants learned in conjunction with short
vowels.

The twelve little children are now before you with their face*
directed to the blackboard, and you are going to give them the first
formal lesson in the alphabet. You ask them first of all if ever they
saw a pan, or a fan, or van. They will all likely reply in the affirma-
tive. You will then ask them to describe any of these objects. This
being done, after patiently listening to every little story, and thus
acquiring their confidence, show them,, if you can, the picture^ or, if you
have not any picture, make one on blackboard. Having called their
attention to the picture and looked at it in its various parts, you
enquire, whether they would like to see the name written down so that
they could read it p.nd know that it refers to that object, whether they
saw it or not. You get them to pronounce the word fan, and ask
how many sounds there are f-a-n ? three, they answer. You point to
the word and ask how many letters they see, and they at once reply.
three, a letter answering or corresponding to every sound. Separate
the labial consonant f from the rest of the letters, pronounce it by
itself and afterwards in combination ; and when you show them that it
is pronounced by partly closing the lips, you proceed to analyze its
form, pointing out to them whether it is made up of a straight line or
curve, and if a straight line what its nature, &c. Remand them to
their seat, and bet them to work to find out the same letter in so many
pages of the primer, or in the box of letters, &c., and after they have
found them, to print the letter under review on the slate until they
can do so with facility and expedition. In the afternoon, another.

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labial may be taken up, after tbe forenoon one is gone over and over
again, and treated exactly in the same way. And so on continuously,
until the whole of the simple consonants and short vowels are thor-
oughly understood in their power, form, &c. After this is done,
which may be in a fortnight, the short words already referred to
should be learned by sight, so that by their help, easy sentences may
be constructed, and a series of reading lessons with an examination of
their meaning accurately given.

Stage 2. Simple, compound and double consonants, with the long
sounds of vowels formed by the convention of mute e, should form the
great burden of the lessons of this stage.

Stage 3. This should embrace all the other conventional arrange-
ments for the long and open sounds of vowels with the same consonants.

Stage 4. Double consonants with every variety of vowels already
given-

Stage 5. Diphthongs of every form and consonants of every sort
and anomaly.

Part II. — Mechanical Reading.

Stage 1. Little stories of interest and of good moral tone about
objects, or things, or events within the range of the observation, and
experience, and mental development of children, averaging six or seven
years of age, such as those in the third and fourth books of the Nelson
series. The children at this stage should commence analytical gram-
mar, and be taught, by a series of word-painting orr. lessons, to distin-
guish one sort of word from another. (See chap, on grammar.)

Stage 2. Dissyllabic words. This is another stage in advance, but
it is one in which those who have been well trained in the preliminary
stages have little difficult}'. There should be a hyphen in all words
of two or more syllables, separating the syllables ; the scholars being
familiar with these syllables separately, can readily combine them
with a view to the pronunciation of the word. Every new and pecul-
iar word, and specially every dissyllabic word, should be writtea in
columns at the top of each lesson.

Stage 3. Trisyllabic words, and others of more syllables treated in
same way.

Intellectual Reading.

The mechanical power of reading has now been attained, and the
question arises, what is next to be done ? Unquestionably, we reply;
it is to acquire the art of reading well, that is, of reading with

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untlerstaiuUng, ourselves, and impressively, iu so far as our auditors
are concerned. Reading is but a means with a two-fold end in view ;
first, to gain knowledge ourselves, and, secondly, to impart it, with
proper effect, to others; and if this two-fold object is not served,
it is of no use whatever, it is a work of supererogation. IIow egre-
giously absurd then, the mistake of those teachers who imagine
that all that is necessary in this branch of education is simply to
enunciate or articulate the words, however imperfectly or indistinctly.
A great achievement in their estimate has been effected, when they
have succeeded in teaching their scholars to rca'l, r-t-.-ely to name the
words after a fashion. As to the way in which this is done, the
method pursued in its accpiisition, or the understanding of the import
of what is read, is to them a matter of no moment. This is the second
stage in that mechanical process, or that rote system still too prevalent,
whose direct tendency, instead of awaking mind, lulls it into deeper
slumber. Hence it is that a large number of our youth leave school
without the ability of taking the sense even out of the commonest
paragraph of what they may chance to reatl. Hence, too, the fact but
too notorious, that many, — very many — who have received what is
supposed a fair common school education, cease from reading, in a
great measure, altogether ; at all events, they evidently derive not the
smallest gratification from the exercise. Mind has never yet been
stirred out of nature's dormancy, and such are the difficulties in the
way of decyphering the meaning of the plainest language and the
clearest thought, that instead of coping with these difficulties they
never face them, and cast the book aside as possessed of no interest to
them. " I have devoted," says Horace Mann in his second annual
report, " especial pains to learn, with some degree of numerical accu-
racy, how far the reading in our schools is an exercise of the mind in
thinking and feeling, and how far it is a barren action of the organs of
speech on the atmosphere. My information is dei-ived chiefly from
the written statements of the school committees of the different towns;
gentlemen, who are certainly exempt from all temptations to disparage
the schools they superintend. The result is, that more than eleven-
twelfths of all the children in the reading classes do not understand
the meaning of the words they read ; that they do not master the
sense of their reading lessons ; and that the ideas and feelings intended
by the author to be conveyed to and excited in the reader's mind still
rest in the author's intention, never having yet reached the place of
their destination. It would hardly seem that the combined efforts of
all persons engaged could have accomplished more, in defeating the

ART OF EDUCATION.

845

true objects of reading. IIow tlio cause of this deficiency is to be
apportioned among the legal supervisors of the schools, parents,
teachers and authors of text-books, it is impossible to say, but surely
it is nn evil gratuitous, widely prevalent and threatening the most
alarming conse(juences."

Such is the testimony of Horace Mann, touching this branch of edu-
cation, and others of equal authority might easily be adduced. And
why this state of things ? It clearly arises from low and inadequate
views of the grand end of education ; and if such ignorance prevails
in reference to such an important elementary branch, what may not
reasonably be expected in reference to others ? This surely demon-
strates the necessity of something more being required on the part of
the teacher than the mere fact of his scholarship, or even the ability
of imparting to his scholars the knowledge he possesses, viz., his pos-
sessing enlightened and enlarged views of the end of the education of
the young — the growth and development of all the parts of their com-
pound being — and his practical acquaintance with the means best
adapted for the effecting of that end.

But it is time we put the question. What constitutes good reading,
or wherein lies the charm of genuine elocution, and the means neces-
sary for its attainment ? In reference to the first question, it is per-
fectly clear that there must be a standard at which to aim, and that
that standard must be founded upon the very nature of things, such as
must command itself to the approbation of all. Were we to speak
succinctly, perhaps the term or the word most appropriate would be
expression, or such a modulation and tone of the voice as would
bring out the real meaning of what is read. But this term involves
several elements, and to read so as to give proper expression to the
sentiments conveyed, requires, 1. Distinct articulation; 2. Fluency
of utterance ; 3. Correctness of pronunciation ; 4. Attention to time ;
5. Impression ; 6. Taste. We shall say a few words respecting each
of these. Then we shall be in a ri^rht position for considering the
means best fitted for arriving at this standard.

1. Distinctness. By this property we are plainly to understand
tliat every letter, and syllable, and word receive their appropriate sound.
There is a strong disposition on the part of beginners to slur over
letters and syllables, or to merge them into one another. This is
specially the case in monosyllabic words, in words ending and begin-
ning with the same or similar letters, and syllables with words of
l)eculiar formation, with vowels or consonants succeeding one another,
such as extraordinary, government, acts, &c. This is evidently the

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origin of many, if not of all the contractions tliat occur in tlie dead
langua<j('s, as well aa of a goodly number of tlui irregularitie.s iuid
anomalii's in some of the modern langujiges. Letters are slurred over
till it becomes the usage of leaving them out altogether, and gradually
this assumes the eharacrter of a fixed law. Every approximation to
such n fault should be cautiously shunned at the very eommenccfuictit
of the reading caret'r, — and this can only bo secured by the rigid
observance of the distinct articulation of every letter, and syllable,
and word. This (luality lies at the foundation of all good reading,
without which all the other attaimnents and elegances are unavailing.
It is no doubt principally mechanical, but this prov(!3 all the more the
necessity of its acquisition at the very commencinnent of the reading
process.

2. F/iicnn/. Some lisp, and stammer, and hesitate in consequence
of some malformation in their lingual organs, but the greater propor-
tion do so by reason of bad habits contracted through tho carelessness
of parents or teachers. Whilst much may be done by care and atten-
tion to correct tho former, there should not be the smallest toleration
in reference to the latter, as it must appear palpable to all that so long
as this defect continues, so long as there is any hesitancy or want of
ease in tho enunciation of the word or phrase, it mars the best and
otherwise most accurate reading. There must, therefore, be nothing
in the shape of stuttering, or hesitancy, or repetition of syllables or
words ; the voice must flow on smoothly, sweetly, easily and continu-
ously. Accordingly, fluency constitutes one of the essential elements
of good reading.

3. Correct pronunciation This consists in giving every letter,
and syllable, and word their right sound and accent. The foundation
of orthoepy lies in usage — the usage of the best readers and speakers,
and to this um])ire must all lexicographers bow. This rule, however,
is not arbitrary or despotic, but, generally speaking, administers its
laws in accordance with the etymology and analogy of the language.
The great proportion of words are fixed and settlea in their pronuncia-
tion, and can easily be found by reference to any authorized lexicon.
In reference to those that are not, the usage of the best readers and
speakers must prevail. All provincialisms and pedantic affectations in
pronunciation are to be carefully avoided. All words and quotations
not anglicized, should be pronounced in accordance with the analogy
of the language to which they belong, and if the reader is unacquainted
therewith, in accordance with that of the English or his native tongue.
Orthoepy is another element that lies at the very foundation of good

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reading, hikI, as it is diiefly lUKjuired l»y imitation, the teacher ought
to bo :i luiistcr and a model in this department.

1. I^ropcr time. This is another, and a very important ehnnent.
It may \w reganh/d in two aspects, either as ahsohite and relative, or
as Higiiifi(Uint and rhetorical. IJy the al' jlute time, we are plainly to
understand the general tinui that hefits t..o nature of the piece read or
spoken. As that is widely diflerent in 8ubje<;t, passion and occasion,
so must the lime be exceedingly variable. If the subject is of a seri-
ous and religious character, the time must be slow, and staid, and
solemn. If it is terrific, and arousing, and imi)assioned, the time must
bo rapid, and maj«!Stic, and commanding, if it is descriptive, histori-
cal, the t'me must bo intermediate, niiither too slow nor too (juick.
But whatever may be the duration or time absolute, which the piece
from its nature may demand, and liowever tlnit may vary, the relative
time, the time which all the parts take, ought to be most 8cruj)ulously
preserved. This must be done in the reciting of poetry, and it should
also, as far as practicable, be in prose. Nothing surely can be more
discordant or more unharmonious than to read one part of the samo
religious piece in chastened slow time and the other half in quick rapid
time. It is clear, then, that whatever is the absolute time selected, the
relative time must be preserved, must be in exact proportion.

As to the other distinction we have drawn in reference to time, and
which we have characterized as significant and rhetorical, we under-
stand by the former the actual pauses or the usual marks of punctua-
tion — comma, semi-colon and period — and depending upon the mean-
ing of the various clauses in any proposition. These pauses should
be scrupulously attended to, and that from the very commencement of
this branch of education. They are not only invaluable to the reader,
as giving an authoritative rest to his lingual organs, and thereby
investing him with a more tliorough command over them, but, to the
hearer, they help to elucidate and give additional power to the passage.
To pass these o''er, or not to give them their proportionate duration,
is not only in itself a violation of all propriety, but is to mar the effect
of every other excellence in reading. But there are other pauses,
beside, which enhance very largely the significance and beauty of the
other, — we refer to those that have been designated rhetorical. The
elocutionary marks for this purpose are two ; the one, a double hori-
zontal line or hyphen - - marking a longer or more decisive pause,
usually separating the subject from the verb, and the noun from its
description, or its adjunct, connected by a relative pronoun ; and the

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Other a horizontal line or single hyphen - uniting separate words and
phrases into one whole, and usually requiring a shorter pause.
" 'Tis the voice - of the sluggard- -I heard him - complain."

5. Tmpressivi '>ss. This fifth element in our standard of good
readinjr ov speaking is in advance of all we have yet considered.
These partook largely of the mechanical, hut this of the intellectual.
It just means that the individual reads in such a way as to convey to
his auditors the true sense of his author. It implies not merely dis-
tinctness of articulation and fluency of enunciation, but a modulation
of voice so accordant with the sentiments read, as shall demand an
entrance into the understanding and heart of those that are listening.
This is what all may arrive at by a course of training in a few of the
mor3 common rules of elocution, and by a thorough understanding
of every word, clause and propof^ition in the sentence read. No
teacher should be allowed to instruct others in the art of reading who
has not himself reached this same measure of attainment.

6. Taste. This is the highest of all the elements that enter into
the composition of our standard. It consists in a complete impersona-
tion of the author, the emotions awakened by the sentiments conveyed
so naturally expressed by the tones of the voice, all ratified and
ennobled by the features of the face and the motions of the body.
This is what no rules in elocution, no practical training in the art of
reading, no masters of the subject, however perfect, can bestow. It
depends on something above t id Iteyond all t' •, even on an innate
endowment, a delicate refinement of taste, an _ar for harmony, and a
power of intonation of voice, with a soul that can drink into the very
essence of the subject read or spoken, — all which are possessed by the
individual as a special gift of nature. It is no doubt true that these,
or at least the greater proportion of them, can be greatly improved by
practice, and bo largely benefitted by the elaborate rules of elocution ;
but ihere is underlying a substratum which raises and elevates the
possessors far above what art can give. There are always a few sue
in every school, and every teacher should be qualified and prepared
not only to guide and direct, but to embellish and adorn.

We have now shown what good reading or elocution really is. We
have presented something like a standard, both as a touchdtone of
appeal and as a point to be steadily aimed at by teachers in the acqui-
sition of the art of reading by their pupils. And here the question
naturally arises, What means are to be employed for the purpose of
arrivincr at such excellence ? What are the respective functions of
teachex and taught in the matter ? This we hold to be a subj -ct of

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349

transcendent importance to every human being, whatever his rank,
or condition, or subsequent career. It not only lies at the foundation
of all intellectual development, but imparts a tone and character to
the whole future education of the recipient.

1. And the jirst thing here to be attended to is the attitude of the
body and the exercise of the lingual organs. "Whatever the intellec-
tual or moral exercise to be gone through, i' is at all times befitting
and advantageous that the body, and especially those jiarts more
immediately con orned, should be in th'^"- right position, and if this is
necessary in every department, it is spec.any so in reading. The body
should be erect, the shoulders bent back, and the chest expanded.
The book should be held in the hand easily and gracefully, and right
opposite the mouth and eye instead of the breast, as it so often is, so
that the voice may go outwards, and thereby come in contact directly
with the ear of the listeners, rather than fall downwards to the ground.
The children, wheii engaged in this exercise, should be made to stc id,
as this posture seems to give a much greater command of the voice.
Here those who have been taught according to the plionic system
ha ■'". a great advantage over others, as their lingual organs have been
rendered by exercise more flexible, and consequently more serviceable.
But whether the class have been taught according to this system, it
were well that the whole class, before commencing a reading exercise,
should occasionally, at least, go thiough some lingual gymnastics, for
tlie purpose of opening the mouth, of unlocking the jaws, separating
the teeth and supplifying the lips. The various elementary sounds
may also be given, now and again, on the same principle as the scale
or gamut is gone over, to impart greater command to the muscles in the
instrumental music about to be practised. This is of vastly greater
value than all the rules or exe)iiplification8 of the best aud most
accomplished artistic elocutionist. Indeed it is just because the accom-
plished elocutionist does not submit to the toil and drudgery of these
elementary exercises, in the case of those who have not been properly
trained iu their juveuile years, ti»v.t he genei'ally effects so little real
substantial good.

2. Another means at the very threshold of the acquisition of this art,
is the thorough comprehension of the thoughts conveyed in the lesson^
or the undersianding of the piece, both in its general scope and in its
more minute details.

It is impossible that any one ignorant of the import of the passage
to be read, or even possessed of but a vague 'dea of its general drift
or scope, to do any thing like justice to the reii'Jng exercise. The

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very attempt to do so in the circumstances were injurious in the ex-
treme, as it would inevitably lead to the dissociating of the idea from
the words, liimiliarizing them with the sounds, without the slightest
reflection upon the things signified. And here the question naturally
arises, What are the means best fitted to stimulate the young to obtain
a thorough knowledge of the import of the passage to be read such a
knowledge as would qualify them to read it with intelligence at least;
and thus to train to high mental development ? In answering this
question, we would notice in the first place, that every pains should be
taken by the teacher to impress the young under his charge with the
idea that the acquisition of the art of reading is but a mean leading to
a certain end, viz., a thorough acquaintance with the sentiments or
thoughts communicated. For this purpose, as soon as they are able to
read monosyllabic words, the young should be required to express in
their own language the contents of the passage, to tell the meaning of
what they have read. This may be done in two ways, either by a
catechetical process of examination on the part of the teacher, or by
an abstract outline of the passage read by the pupils themselves,
clothed in their own diction, expressed in their own simple style. The
latter is the most satisfactory way of accomplishing the object in view,
inasmuch as it not only elicits the general contents of the passage, but
the various details and relations. No all delusion oftentimes obtains
in connection with catechetical examinations. After a close and
apparently triumphant examination on the part of the teacher, with
the most exact and prompt replies of the scholars, it not unfrequently
occurs, that after all this process of questioning and answering, the
scholars are in a great measure ignorant of the relations or connections
subsisting amongst the various parts, and destitute of al! associative
links, the whole subject is ere long obliterated from their understanding
and memory. It is clear, then, that the more effective way, is the
abstract or abridgement given by the pupils, either in spoken or writ-
ten language. This will compel them to attend, not only to the
general scope of the piece, but to all the minutite of detail, and thereby
to have the whole inwoven into their n ental structure. But whatever
is the mode adopted, the teacher will see that the exercise is thoroughly
graded, in adaptation to the ago and attainments of the scholar, that
the different epochs of the development — the percejitive, the recol-
lective, and the reflective — are nicely watched and united. Com-
mencing with the most initiatory department, the scholars, when they
reach the most advanced, will be perfectly competent not only to pre-
sent a full account of the leading features, with all their relations and

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351

dependencies, but to discuss and criticise its merits aiid demerits, it»
faults and excellences, whether those refer to the coherence of the
thought, or the purity of the style, or the embellishment of the lan-
guage.

3. Accentuation. The pupils are now physically and mentally in
the right position, and ready to commence the reading exorcise. The
Hist and most rudimental point to be here attended to, is, accentuation
or the stress or force of the voice on a certain syllable in a word, or
on a word in a phrase, or sentence, or clause. There are two accents,
the primary or acute, and secondary or grave ; the sign of the former
being a small line from right to left, and of the latter from left to right.
In every word of more than one syllable there is always one sounded
widi greater force or strength than another, and in words of several
syllables, both primary and secondary accents are employed. This
serves important purposes. It facilitates the pronunciation of the
word, by clustering all the other syllables round it. It renders the
sound much more melodious or euphonious. There does not appear
to be any principle for attaching the accent to one syllable in prefer-
ence to any other, except usage and the etymology of the word. But
not only are tlie syllables accented, words in phrases are so too.
Phrases or clauses are constantly occurring, in which, though the
words are separately written, yet they are so closely connected in
sense that they require to be treated in precisely the same manner ;
namely, to be combined as it were into one word, by pronouncing
them closely together, and giving to one of them an accent, and some-
times to others of them secondary and tertiary accents. The following
line, for example, should be read as if it consisted of four words, thus :
" 'Tis the voice - of the sluggard - 1 heard him - eomplaia."

Now much of the perspicuity of reading consists in thus grouping
together ihose words which are closely connected, and which present
one object to the mind. And nothing creates greater confusion and
indistinctness, than when a reader or speaker separates those words,
which ought to be united, and joins together those which ought to be
separated. Let any one read the above line differently grouped, and
he will discover the injury that is done to the perspicuity of the lan-
guage :

II "ii

Tis the - voice of the - shiggnrd I - heard - him - compjiin." Or

ila

'Tis the - voice of the - sluggard • 1 heard - him complain."

Thes(j words, then, are distributed into groups, each forming a com-
pound word to be read closely together, and having an accent on the
principal word ; so that when read it may be heard, not as a succession

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of syllables or words, but as a succession of plirasos, each containing
a distinct idea within itself, and kept separate from the others.

But these compound words or phrases are not connected together
with equal closeness. Some of them require to be pronounced more
closely together than others, because they are more nearly connected
together in sense. Thus (to keej) by the same exami)le) there ought
manifestly to be a longer pause after the word sluggard, than after the
words voice and him. To express this difference of connexion be-
tween different phrases, the two marks of pauses, already noticed, have
been adopted : the double hyphen intimating the longer pause, and the
single hyphen, the shorter pause. "When one of the ordinary points
intervenes, no additional mark is deemed necessary ; because any of
them implies a division between one phrase and another. Thus, in our
example, these different connexions might be marked in this manner:

" 'Tis the voice - of the shiggard - - 1 heard him - coninhiin."
" 'Tis the voice -of the sluggard, I heard him -complain."

Sometimes words are so closely connected, while yet two, or even
more of them, may be words which ought to be distinctly marked in
reading, that it is difficult to say whether they should be united toge-
ther in one compound phrase with primary and secondary accents, or
whether they should be regarded as separate phrases. In these cases,
the principal words are accented, but without any mark of separation
being placed between them.

This suggests another very important topic, namely, primary and
•econdary accents. In meeting the phrases into which language is
distributed, it will be found that there is a great diversity among the
accents, some being more strong and marked than others. Thus, in
our example, the accent on the word sluggard is stronger than that on
the word voice ; and the accent on the word complain is stronger than
that on the word heard. To mark these distinctions the acute and
grave accents are employed ; the acute to express the stronger, and
the grave the weaker accent. Thus :

" 'Tis the voice of the slug'gard -- 1 heard him com 'plain."

The whole line is thus divided into two compound phrases, by the
double hyphen after the word sluggard, and the two parts of these
compound phrases are separated, yet combined, by the marks of divi-
sion after the words voice and him, and by a principal accent being
given to the words sluggard and complain, and secondary accents to
the words voice and heard.

One general prhiciple of ascertainii" where the accent lies, and
which determines a great variety of case.^, is, that whatever word limits

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353

ihe phrase or renders it more speciflc, requires the primary accent ;
because the limitation is usually that which the speaker wishes, or finda
it necessary most determinately to impress upon his auditors. Thus
when an adjective qualifies a noun, the adjective carries the accent,
and so with the adverh qualifying a verb — in compound numbers, the
smaller numbers — the verb following its nominative — the objective
case, except in pronouns, &c.

Though only two marks have been employed, yet, when the sen-
tence requires that the successive accents should increase in intensity,
this is indicated by two or more primaries or secondaries, following
one another in succession. Two marks, therefore, have, upon the
whole, been deemed sufficient ; and the reader is left to make the
more delicate variations from his own judgment aud taste, in which,
however, he will be materially assisted by attention to the principles
above explained.

4. Emphasis. This is another important mean to be attended to
in arriving at the elevated, standard of good reading or elocution.
Though this is substantially the same thing as accent, depending on the
strength or force of the voice, it must not, as is not unfrequently
the case, be confounded with it. It is regulated upon a different
principle altogether. Emphasis always suggests some contrast ; and
any word or words may, when a contrast is intended to be suggested,
become emphatic. Thus the phrase on the table, would, if no con-
trast were intended to be suggested, be accented on the syllable ta
of the word table. Aud if the word on be accented, it immediately
suggests the idea on as distinguished from under, not under, but
on the table. The naturally accented syllable, however, may also
be the emphatic one. Thus, if the word table be pronounced emphat-
ically, on the table, it suggests the idea, not on some other place^
not on the chair, nor on the side-hoard ; but on the table. Or to take
a well known example, the following question, if no contrast were
intended, would be accented thus : — ' Do you ride to town to-day ?'
But each of these words in this question may, by being pronounced
emphatically, be made to suggest a contrast, thus : — Do you ride to
town to-day — or send your servant ? Do you ride to town to-day —
or walk ? Do you ride to toiDn to-day — or to the country ? Do you
ride to town to-day — or to-morrow ? Even the word to, made em-
phatic, would intimate, though obscurely, the idea of riding not quite
to the town. Do you ride to town to-day — or only part of the way ?

Emphasis, then, is very different from accent, although it is some-
times confounded with it ; because, very frequently, emphasis is ex»

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pressed like accent by a louder toue of voice. Emphasis is, however,
not confined to this mode of expression. It may be expressed by
almost any means that will single out the emphatic word from the
rest of the sentence, and render it prominent and remarkable. It may
be expressed by the tone, by the pitch of the voice, by increasing or
decreasing the quantity, by pronouncing the emphatic word in a whis-
per, or by simply making a distinct pause before or after it, or both
before and after it. These different modes, however, of expressing
emphasis, produce very different effects ; and they must be adapted to
the nature of the emphasis that is intended to be expressed, for which
it would be difficult to give any other rule, than to watch the natural
intonations and modulations of the voice.

5. Common and Rhetorical Pauses or Stops. The common marks
of punctuation are familiar to all, but, alas ! in how many instances
are these marks overlooked, hurriedly galloped over, as if they
had no existence, or as if they were written for the purpose of being
treated with indifference ; all arising from the circumstance, that
the attention of the children has never been seriously directed to
them, their utility dwelt upon, and, above all, their minds have
never been trained to their observance. So soon as the scholars are
able to pronounce, with ease, monosyllabic words, attention should
be given to the common marks of punctuation, the time of rest, or
the duration of the pause that each should receive ; and we know of
no simpler mode than the old-fashioned pi'actice of calculating these
pauses by counting one, two, three, four, &c., the first, to stand for the
comma, the second, for the semicolon. The principal thing here,
however, to be attended to, is not the simple knowledge of one or other
of these marks, or the time that each requires, but it is the training
process, by which, in all time coming, they will pay as much rei^pect
to these marks as they do to a word, and pause and rest the lingual
organs, as an esential part of good reading. Passing over these points,
or treating them with heedless indifference, should not be tolerated
for a moment.

But there are other pauses that demand our attention These are
dasignated the rhetorical, and are characterized by a single and
double hyphen. These arise from the connexion subsisting among
the words in a phrase or clause. These are much more closely con-
nected in their sense, in one case than in another, and consetiueutly
they require to be grouped together and to be pronounced in accord-
ance with their affinity. Thus, in our example, these different phrases
might be marked in this manner :

" 'Tis the voice - of the sluggard - - 1 heard him - compliiin."

ART OF EDUCATION.

855

The one hyphen indicates the pause to be shorter than a comma, and
the two about the same duration as the comma. There can scarcely
be abetter exercise than to familiarize young readers with this grouping
process, and requiring them to give every possible attention to these
pauses.

6. Injlection or intonation of voice. Accentuation and emphasis
have a bearing only on the sylla])les of words, or on words them-
selves, and merely give force or energy or strength to the voice ; but
inflection or intonation has a reference to the raising or suiting the
pitch of it. There is a pitch of voice which every person is accus-
tomed to use in ordinary conversation, which forms a kind of key-
note, and from which words or clauses requiring to be distinguished,
either rise or fall. This pitch of voice is diiFerent in different indi-
viduals, but always the same in the same individual ; and is one of those
characteristics by which the voice of one individual is known from
another. On that natural pitch of voice, the tones in spontaneous lan-
guage are natural ; but if any other pitch of voice be adopted in read-
ing or reciting, it is difficult to retain the natural inflections of the
voice, and the enunciation becomes in that case constrained and un-
natural. It is of much importance, therefore, in reading or public
speaking, to retain this natural pitch of voice, and to add to it the
necessary degree of force without altering it. Further, it will be
found tliat it is easy to rise to this natural pitch of voice from a lower
pitch, but exceedingly difficult to come -' if if a higher pitch

has been once adopted. An obvious ru] s -jgested by this observa-
tion, for persons who have occasion to read or s})eak to large auditories,
and are thus under the necessity of reading or speaking in a loud tone,
namely, to commence at as low a pitch as they can render them-
selves audible ; for, as they proceed, they will gradually rise to their
natural pitch, and thus retain possession of their inflections : whereas,
if they commence too high, they will find it scarcely possible to come
down to their natural pitch, and their manner will be stiff and forced.
There is always a tendency to raise the tone of the voice along with
the accent, or what amounts to the same thing, to raise the pitch along
with the increase of force. The reason of this is, that increasing the
force with which any word is pronounced, and raising the pitch of
voice in which it is pronounced, are both used to express earnestness in
calling the attention of the auditors to that word ; and the louder the
tone ia which any word is enunciated, and the higher the pitch of
voice that is used, the more earnestness is the speaker or reader felt
to express.

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TEACHERS TEXT-BOOK.

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Children should be taught to increase the force or loudness with
which they read, without raising the pitch or tone of their voice, and
the distinction between tliese two variations of the voice, namely,
strength and elevation of tone, with the practice of giving force
without raising the tone, should be one of the first lessons inculcated.

The rules relative to the rising and falling inflection in every sort
of phrase or clause, will be found in every well written treatise on
elocution. The observations we have made are exceedingly general.

The student, however, is not to expect, that attention to these
observations, will make him an accomplished, graceful, attractive
reader or speaker. The directions which have been given refer
merely to the conveying of the sense of what is read distinctly and
forcibly. But to read with taste and effect, -nich more is necessary
than this. The reader must enter into the spirit ot the author, and,
while he raises or lowers the pitch of his voice, or gives force and
emphasis to particular words, he must, at the same time, use such
tones as are appropriate to the sentiment expressed. Some pieces
require to be read in a bold, abrjipt ton*^ of voice, the words broken
off from one another, like what is called staccato in music. Other
pieces require that the words be pronounced smootlily, gliding into
one another with scarcely any break or interruption. Some pieces
require an expression of pleasure, others of gi-ief or sympathy ; soire
of satisfaction and approbation, others of anger and censure.

But these elegancies and delicacies of elocution cannot be taught by
written or even oral directions. Nothing but a correct taste, cultivated
by attention to the manner in which people of education and refine-
ment express their pcntimeuts and feelings, will enable any person to
attain to them. Let it, however, be remembered, that in this, as in
every other art, accuracy must be at the foundation of excellency.
Just as the management of light and shade, or colour in a picture, is
totally lost if the drawing be incorrect — if the rules of perspective, or
the principles of anatomy, or of architecture are not attended to ; so the
boldest and most commanding enunciation, or the most moving pathos,
or sweetest tones of voice, are but deformities if they are *nisapplied,
or if the sense is not clearly and distinctly conveyed.

7. Gesticulation with Recitation Exercises. Though the tones of
the voice constitute the main element both in the substantials ani
elegancies of elocution, there are various subordinate appendages
which greatly enhance and ennoble these. There is, for example, the
position of the body. If that position be easy and graceful, if the
attitude of the speaker be erect tmd commanding, if the motions of the

ART OF EDUCATION.

357

upper and lower extremities be natural ; if, instead of preceding, they
follow and give effect to the emotions of the mind, as indicated by the
tones of the voice, they will add tenfold force and power to his oratory,
or elocution. Then there are the features of the human face divine,
all which are powerfully expressive of the emotions of the mind. The
eye, the lips, the nostrils, the forehead, every feature, in fact, can
be brought in to minister to the help of the speaker, and to give ettect
to the tones of the voice.

In order to all this, however, the body must be free and unfettered,
so that it may assume any attitude or motion, or any expression of
feature, that the nature of the subject may demand. This cannot be
(lone if the mind is unacquainted with the thoughts communicated, or
if the eye is kept steadily gazing upon the book, and the whole body
chained, as it were, to one staid posture. Hence the necessity, if we
would do justice to our elocution, of being not only well acquainted
with the thoughts embodied in the passages, with the passions and
emotions they call forth, but of having the language carefully com-
mitted to memory — in other words, making recitative elocutionary
exercises part of the regular business of the school. These exercises
should be commenced at an early period in the ducational history of
every child. So soon as the scholar has reached the Intermediate
department, and capable of reading any ordinary piece of composition
witli fluency, he should, every week, be lequired to commit to memory
a certain quantity either of the best poetry or prose adapted to his
age or stage of progress. Such pieces may be inserted in the reading
text-book at certain intervals, or they may be collected in a separate
recitative book, and arranged for different grades of advancement.
The selection should be made on three grounds ; 1st, The truthfulness
andiuanline''s r,f the thoughts ; 2nd, Those passages which furnish the
finest i' lustrations of the emotions or passions of our nature, and 3rd.
Thost- which present the best models in correctness and perspicuity of
style, in refinement and elegance of composition, and of literary taste.
The committing to memory such pieces would provide the minds of the
rising generation, and that at a time the most impressive, with some of
the noblest thoughts of the English language ; would impart a power
and a chasteness in composition far greater than the most renowned
treatise on rhetoric or belles-lettres, or all the rules that have been
printed on the subject of elocution ; but above all, this exercise, though
It may be only gone through once a fortnight, will enhance the whole
of their elocutionary powers, and impart such a taste for good reading,
that they will thereafter spurn whatever is indifferent or second-rate.

358

teacher's text-book.

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Indeed, the benefits arising from this exercise arc manifold, and, there-
fore, every effort should be made to do ample justice to it. A regular
time ought to be set apart for it. The teacher himself should master
the passage, and, if possible, endeavom* to recite it. The pupils might
occasionally be allowed to select their own piece, and every thing done
by which the whole school will see that it is no subordinate branch,
but one of the highest, of surpassing importance.

SpeUing. Of all the branches of a common school education, there
is none more difficult, or demanding a larger amount of time and
attention, than spelling. This is mainly owhig to the anomalies of the
English language, — anomalies arising from the deKciencies of the alpha-
bet, on the one hand, and the structure of the language, on the other.
The former gives birth to all the conventional arrangements necessary
to supply the deficiency of letters and to I'epreseut the elementary
sounds of the language. The latter, again, depending upon not less
than five sources, and these sources, preserved in the orthography,
jiecessarily beget a large number of irregularities. When we take these
two points into account, it is not at all to be wondered at, that the
subject before us is encompassed with such perplexities and difficulties.
Indeed the best and most accurate scholars are scarcely aware of the
time and labour they expended in the acquisition of this branch. It
was begun at the most initiatory stage of their educational career, and
continued, it might almost be said, till the cope-stone was put on the
fabric. But what is spelling? It is exactly the opposite of reading.
In reading or articulating words, we give a certain understood sound,
to certain marks or characters which we call letters. In spelling we
give or write down certain letters or characters indicative of certain
sounds enunciated in our hearing. Before, then, we are in a right
position to learn to spell, we must be able to read, or to know the
letters that represent certain sounds. But more than this, we must
know the meaning of the passage, and of every word in the passage.
There are many words pronounced alike, but which are spelt differ-
ently, owing to their etymological derivation. For the same reason
there are many words spelt alike, but whose sound or pronunciation
differs. All these irregularities render it indispensable that we are
not only capable of reading the passage, but that we thoroughly
understand the import before we are in a position to spell the words.
Besides, in giving out a spelling exercise, this points out the necessity
of reading first the whole sentence or passage, that the class may
understand the meaning to affix to every w ^ and, thereby, to decy-
pher its orthography. And when should wt commence this exercise .'

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AKT OP EDUCATION.

359

As soon as the children arc able to read the simplest monosyllabic
words with ease and fluency ; and, thereafter, they should proceed
contemporaneously, — the reading and the spelling. This should be
rigidly adhered to if good and correct spelling is to form the rule,
and not as it is in too many cases, the exception. No lesson in read-
ing should be considered as received, until it is carefully and accurately
spelt, as well as read.

The first and lecond reading books should thus form the first and
second spelling books ; and if these are consecutively arranged for
reading, and thereby well adapted for the acquirement of this art, they
are equally so for spelling. For giving greater prominence to this
branch, a list of the new words in the chapter should appear at the
beginning, with all the syllables divided and properly adjusted. The
words should be pronounced and the meaning attached before the
reading exercise is commenced. These words again presenting them-
selves in the reading exercise will become familiar friends, both in
their orthography and meaning, and little or no difficulty will be
experienced in the spelling.

And this exercise should be carried on analytically, that is, every
sentence should be spelt just as the words occur, and not as is fre-
quently done by the selection of the hard or more difficult words.
This practice may be resorted to in the intellectual, but it should never
be in the purely mechanical department There are two ways in
wbich this process may be carried on. It may be done, first, by the
ear alone. The teacher, after reading the sentence, so that the class
may know the meaning to attach to every word, will break it down
and give it out in short phrases or clauses, according to the age or
stage of advancement of class. The spelling may be given in various
ways or forms. It may either be letter about, or syllable, or word, or
clause, or sentence, or whatever mode may be found most desirable for
best securing the attention or keeping alive the interest of all. What-
ever mode is adopted, let there be no stereotyping, so sliding into a
perfunctory way of engaging in this or in any one exercise. The
other way referred to is by the eye alone. The youngest classes can-
not of course be expected to write these sentences, but they may print
them on their slates, and this will furnish profitable employment to
these classes, giving them ease in the formation of the letters as well
as -endering them expert in the spelling process. From the time
taken up by such an exercise, it can be resorted to only occasionally
until the children are able to write with some facility. It might be
well to occupy the attention of those that can only print the letters;

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to require them to do a certain amount of this work every day. They
could copy either from the primer or the blackboard. This familiar-
izes the eye with the letters that enter into the composition of certain
sounds, and so prepares them for more advanced exercises.

Whilst these and similar exercises are going on in spelling, the
teacher should be ever and anon directing the attention of these
initiatory classes to great general principles connected with ortho-
graphy. Without at all attempting a systematic discussion of the
rules of orthography, there are words occurring in almost every lesson,
types or representations of certain classes of words, such as the termi-
nation y being changed into i before adding another vowel, etc.
Attention should be called to those words of similar structure, and
thus incidentally an immense amount of information imparted upon
the general subject, and an admirable basis laid, when the class is ready
to proceed to the systematic discussion of spelling. But there is a
large number of words, and especially of anomalous words, that in the
most extensive round of reading exercises, and in the gi'eatest variety
of books, cannot be supposed to occur, and yet with whose orthography
the young that are passing out of the mechanical into the intellectual
region, should be rendered familiar. And here the whole subject
must be taken up and dealt with systematically, and that chiefly
through the medium of spelling-books.

In more recent times, prejudices strong and rampant have arisen in
connection with the whole matter of spelling-books. Some have
denounced them in no measured terms, as a species of word-mongery,
a succession of nonsense-columns. These spelliug-books are accord-
ingly entirely discarded in some schools. In others they are used, but
not with much confidence in their utility, or much system in their use.
Now, there cannot be the shadow of a doubt that by far the greater
proportion of these spelling-books are meagre enough, constructed,
many of them at least, more with the view of giving a knowledge of
the etymology than of the orthography of the language. They are
generally arranged according to the derivations of the words, and a
synonymous word or two given by way of explaining their meaning.
But the grand defect in connection with the whole subject of spelling-
books, and what has rendered them so inoperative in the accomplish-
ment of the object for which they wore intended, has been the use, or
rather the abuse, that has been made of them in connection with their
teaching. Half a dozen or a dozen words were prescribed in succes-
sion, just as the school was dismissed, and the pupils, according to their
grade, required to spell these and give synonymous words, as the lesson

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ART OF EDUCATION.

861

of the following day. In three cases out of five, this lesson was never
looked at, and in many cases was regarded by the scholars themselves
as meaningless and absurd. The more thoughtful and pains-taking,
who commit the words prescribed to memory, do so under the thorough
conviction that their labour is all but thrown away ; for they are per-
suaded that the lesson of to-day jostles out and supersedes that of
yesterday, and so, at the conclusion, the whole appears as but the idle
phantom of a vision, leaving scarcely a trace behind. But the abuse
of a thing can never be adduced with any rationality as an argument
against its legitimate use. And if this proverbial statement was ever
advanced with truthfulness, it is so in che present instance. Spell-
ing-books, when properly constructed and rightly used, are of essential
service in a common school education, in the teaching of a correct and
accurate style of spelling, without which no one is entitled to be
regarded as educated. And how ought they to be constructed? Clearly
in the way best fitted to bring out the anomalies and peculiarities of
the language. The words should be classified, or grouped, not etymo-
logically, but orthographically, and they should rise gradually from
the simple to the more complex. Dr. Sullivan, in his Spelling-book
Superseded, thus arranges all the words in the language which are
liable to be misspelled : — 1. Words similarly pronounced, but differently
spelled. 2. Words similarly spelled, but differently pronounced and
applied. 3. Words spelled and pronounced alike, but differing in
signification. 4. Words liable to be misspelled either from the silence
or unusual sound of one or more letters. 5. All words of unsettled
orthography.

There are other classifications, such as the Manual of Pronunciation
in the Scottish School Book Association Series. (See Schoolmaster,
Vol. 2, and Edgeworth's Practical Education.)

But, however important a well constructed spelling book may be, it
is of still greater importance that it be properly used. This has been
the principal cause of the failures or the comparative inefficiency of
spelling books, and till sometl.ing effective is done to correct the
method of using them, they will, under all circumstances, continue to
be so. The first thing necessary for this purpose is to give the class,
whatever its stage of progress, a correct idea of the meaning of the
words of the lesson. This is to be done, not by the use of synonymous
words or by explanatory remarks, but by the manufacture of sentences
in which these words occur, with their appropriate meanings and in
their right connections. The class should then be required to affix
the meaning to the particular word, as far as they can gather it from the

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TEACHES S TEXT-BOOK.

context, from the meaning of the whole sentence, or the surrounding
vocables. Their very effort to do this, will be worth more to them
than all the explanations that could have been given, though they may
not happen to hit on the real definite import of the terms in question.
It is the province of the teacher to aid and guide them to a clear and
correct understanding of the signification of each word, and, as soon
as they have done so, to require them to make themselves new
sentences, with the words given out inserted, and the whole carefully
written, that the most superficial reader can comprehend their meaning.
This latter part of the exercise may be prescribed for preparation at
their desks or for the lesson of the night. Half-a-dozen or so of these
words in spelling-books may be thus given out, and the class required
to write sentences on slates or on slips of paper in which the words
of the lesson occur, with their appropriate meaning. This will not
only furnish them with a correct idea of the meaning and orthography,
but it will vastly improve their compository powers and prepare them
for more lengthened and advanced exercises. They are now so thor-
oughly familiar with the words prescribed, that they can spell them
by the ear or write them with accuracy. Both the ear and eye are so
well acquainted with them, that there is little or no probability of their
ever being extruded from their memory.

But the grand thing to be aimed at in this branch of education, and
which can alone make good spelling, is steady, consecutive practice,
and, especially, practice in dictation exercises. It has been sometimes
remarked that the individual who reads much, is, generally speaking,
a good speller. This remark is evidently founded on the power of
our visual organ. By constant reading, the eye becomes so accus-
tomed to the form of every word and letter, that it discerns, as by
instinct, the least flaw, whether it be in the shape of deficiency or
redundancy, and the observer is ill at ease until it be corrected. This
shows the innumerable advantages of practice in dictation. It may be
well to have a short exercise with the juvenile department every day
in oral spelling ; but the grand thing to be attended to, and which will
be productive of far greater and more lasting benefit, is the written
exercise, whether from the spelling book, or occasionally from the
reading text-book. These written exercises are often objected to
because of the time they consume, and though they may not be shoved
out altogether, — this the conscience of the pains-taking teacher will not
submit to, — they are often slurred over or performed in so speedy, hasty,
unprofitable manner, as to be productive cf little or no benefit. Let
the teacher show indifference or carelessness in any one exercise or

ART OF EDUCATION.

863

branch, and it will erewhile infect the whole school, not only iu
that, but in all others. But, after all, the time required is not so long
as many seem to imagine. If the exercise is proceeded with system-
atically and consecutively, fifteen or twenty minutes a-day will achieve
marvellous results, and amply compensate for the time spent. Two
things are chiefly to be attended to, first, the giving out of the exercise,
and secondly, the correction of the exercise. Here, with an ordinary
class, all must be done simultaneously. Attention being called, slates
cleaned, pencils ready, right position taken, the sentence is then read
in a slow, distinct tone, that the class may understand the thoughts it
embodies. It is then broken up into phrases or clauses until the
vrhole is written, one of ordinary speed in writing being selected to
make a sign when he has finished as a guide to the teacher to proceed.
When the whole is given out, the class should be allowed two minutes
or so to look it over, put in the marks of punctuation, and make such
corrections as may be needed. But the most important part of the
exercise is yet to come. We refer, of course, to the best and most
expeditious way of correcting it. Much of the benefit to be derived
springs from the method pursued here. If this is carelessly and
slovenlv gone about, and mistakes in consequence remain, the lesson,
instead of doing good, will inflict positive injury. There are various
ways pursued by teachers in correcting the exercise. In some cases
the teacher takes the slate or copy book of the scholar at the head and
exaaiines it, and the one next hands his slate to the one at the top,
and so onwards till all the slates are subjected to the scrutinizing
inspection of their fellow students. This course seems to bear on its
very face a suspicion of the trustworthiness of the whole class, a lack
of confidence in their honour. This is morally wrong, and ought to
be avoided. Every child should be treated with honour till he has
proved himself, bj some overt act, to be undeserving such treatment*
Another mode is, that one of the pupils read aloud his exercise, and,
as he proceeds, receive the corrections of his fellow students, the whole
class in the meantime being busily engaged in correcting their exer-
cises. Neither of these nor similar plans seem at all satisfactory. We
recommend a simjder and a better course. In the case of a junior
class the teacher may have the exercise correctly written on a movable
blackboard, and the moment the prescribed exercise is finished present
the board and require that each scholar make it his model. With a
more advanced class, and much fewer misspelt words, the teacher may
Bpell the exercise viva voce, and the pupils correct their exercises by
his standard. In neither case should the scholai-s be allowed to write

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864

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the corrections by interlining, or by cancelling while brought side by
Bide with th(; standard. They should be strictly required to mark
their mistakes in figures, and immediately thereafter write in full the
correct version at the bottom of the slate. This will impress on their
minds, as indelibly as possible, the mistakes they have committed, that
having seen and become familiar with the wrong, they may also see
and become familiar with the right. These exercises, combined with
transcribing from reading text-books or any other good author by the
older pupils, if systematically pursued during the whole of the school
days, will not fail to make good spellers, will at least render bad
spelling the exception, and not as it is now, in too many instances, the
rule. There is a large number of proper names of common occurrence,
names of persons and places with whose orthography every scholar
should be acquainted. These fall under no general rules, their orthog-
raphy being generally regulated by the analogy of the language from
which they may be derived. Perhaps the best way of becoming
acquainted with the spelling of these words would be, to make out a
list of the more common of these names and give them out as occa-
sional exercises. In addition to all these more formal and systematic
exercises, every lesson in composition should be considered one in
spelling, and, with that intent, carefully examined and corrected. This
will show to the pupils, that spelling is a matter of transcendent
importance, that whatever may be the excellences of their perform-
ance in other respects, whatever be the amount of their attainments,
defects in this department will mar and tarnish the whole ; and this
impression being deeply engraven upon their mind, will furnish a
constant monitor and stimulant to them to be on their guard, and thus
arrive at a condition of highest proficiency.

Grammar. As has already been stated, Grammar is the science of
language, the character in which it is presented to us in all text-books
on the subject. Grammar is not then the basis of language, but lan-
guage of it ; and he who first constructs the grammar of any language,
must sit a humble student at its feet, analyze its parts, arrange
them according to their resemblances or differences, thereby reduc-
ing the whole to a system, appropriately designated a grammar. He
pursues, in short, the very same course that the naturalist does,
who, instead of forming an ideal classification in his own mind, and
endeavouring to make the objects of his favourite study harmouizo
therewith, proceeds at once to the analysis of these objects, and on the
characteristics and innate differences founds his classification. A
grammar, then, is neither more nor less than the science of Ian-

ART OF EDUCATION.

guage, or language reduced to a systematic form. All the gram-
mars that are put into the hands of the young are thus presented
to us, synthetically or abstractly ; and that, too, in the most compli-
cated and elaborate form. At the very commencement of their
acquaintance with this branch of education, they are plunged all at
once into the definitions, the technicalities, and classifications of a
science, and that, too, not of realities, but of signs; not of things or
objects that can be seen or tasted, but of words, of symbols. The
child of nine or ten years of age, or as soon as he is able to read
with any measure of distinctness or fluency, is required to commit
to memory these definitions and technical terms. Without the least
preliminary explanations or preparations, he is launched on this
magnum mare of doubt and uncertainty, or allowed to soar at will
in this airy region of nominalism and symbology. The teacher holds
on his course, prescribing one lesson after another to the class, per-
fectly indifferent whether he comes within the ken or intelligence of
his scholars. It is in the order of the text-book, and this is enough.
Need we be surprised that in a short time this work becomes altogether
unpalatable and abhorrent, even to the most talented of the young?
They can repeat, it may be, with great glibness and dexterity, a round
of vocables or of technical terms, and they long, it may be, for the
arrival of the period, when they shall be let loose from this state of
bondage and confinement, when they shall see the practical application
of this unmeaning jargon and of these mysterious vocables. Need we
then wonder that grammar, as thus taught, is not only an unprofitable
but a tiresome employment, and that instead of disciplining the mind,
it only crams it with words without meaning, sentences without ideas,
and rules without any practical utility. What then is to be done, that
grammar may be taught in a rational, pleasant and profitable manner?
This is an important question, and, in reply, we would at once say,
that it ought to be taught after the same fashion, and on the same prin-
ciple that the grammarian pursues when he constructs the first gram-
mar of any language. The simplest sentence must be looked at, as it
is, as it presents itself. Its parts must be exhibited and examined in
themselves, and in their varied relations. In one word, it must be
taught analytically and orally, and that just as the juvenile mind is
capable of receiving it. In the short sentence, for example, ' The dog
barks,' how easy it is for the teacher to put the question. What thing
or object is here spoken of? A dog, say the children. And what is
said or affirmed of the dog? It harks. Equally easy is it for the
teacher to show that the word dog is but the name-word of the animal ;

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i iO k i

and that, instead of calling it the name-word, it is called, from the
Latin derivatire, a noun ; and that the word bark is the more import-
ant of the two words, without which no thought would be communi-
cated ; and that in consequence it is the word in the sentence called
the verb, derived from the Latin verbum, signifying a word. Having
gone over the different classes of words with their subdivisions and
inflexions, having analyzed th'^ essential elements of sentences both in
their meaning and arrangement, and having done all this, incidentally
and orally, and by examples, in somewhat the same way as they have
been taught to speak, there is now a good foundation laid for proceed-
ing to the synthetical. The children have got a terra cognita, a
known ground, to stand upon, and being made thoroughly acquainted
with the realities of things, they are quite prepared to attend to their
signs and representations in all their generalizations, abstractions,
and technicalities. A text-book may now be called in and used with
the greatest possible benefit. Every step of progress is firm and
stable. Grammar is no longer the vague capricious thing it once was ;
it is beheld in all its living embodiment, and in all its symmetrical
forms, as the expression of the mind's laws and operations, and ag
certain and invariable as these laws and operations themselves.
Whilst these grand departments are going on, every means and oppor-
tunity should be taken to reduce the whole to practice, both in the
shape of spoken language and written composition. This is another
of the grand defects connected with the teaching of grammar. There
is abundance of the theory, but by far too little of the application. It
is no uncommon thing to hear, both on the part of teachers and taught,
the most outrageous violations of all order and rule, and these, it may
be, at the very time when the theoretic bearing on the point is being
discussed. Attention should be paid at the very starting of the edu-
cational career, with both these departments, that the spoken and
written language be correct in grammar and elegant in style, whether
that be carried on in a more colloquial or formal manner. Both of
these should be wound up with logic on the one hand and rhetoric ou
the other, the former having to do with consecutiveness of thought,
and the latter with the embellishment of language.

The whole subject may be thus regarded in a fourfold aspect ; —
1. Analytical Grammar; 2. Synthetical Grammar; -3. Practical
Grammar; 4. Logic and Rhetoric. And to each of these, we
would now, as briefly as possible, direct attention.

Analytical Grammar. As has already been stated, this initiatory
department is carried on orally, and by example, pretty much in the

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367

same way as in the acquisition of spoken language. It may be divided
iuto four distinct stages, the first embracing the classification of words
or drawing the distinction between the eight sorts of words and the
clifforent parts of a simple sentence, viz., the subject and predicate ;
tlie second, pointing out the distinction that obtains among words of
tlie same class, and between a simple and compound sentence ; the
third, the changes that words undergo from the place they hold in the
sentence, usually designated the inflexion of words, embracing only
the five declinable parts of speech, along with the subdivision of com-
pound sentences into subordinate and co-ordinate clauses ; and the
fourth, presenting the five common rules of syntax, which originate in
the fundamental relations of all language, as well as the general prin-
ciples of punctuation.

Every word in italics is supposed to be filled in by the pupils. The
three dots . . . denote an ellipsis.

Stage 1. Oral lessons, distinguishing the different parts of speech.

Noun fully pictured out with class.

The teacher, taking up a book or any other object that may be near him,
asks the little children, What is this ? A hook. (T. writes on board.) Is that
the thing or object itself? No. What then ? It is the name of it. All
objects or thin<js have . . . names V Why ? To distinguish them from one
another. And the names differ from one another . . . As the objects or things.
Give some examples. Hat, Desk, Table, Dog, Sun, A^'c. And you call all
these . . . Words. And what end do they serve ? T'hey give the names
of these objects. They are all therefore . . . Name-ioords. Did you ever
hear of the Latins ? Yes. Where did they live ? ... As you don't know this,
liowever I will tell you. (The teacher here takes the map and shows where
Italy and Rome are situated.) What wa.s the word in tlieir language cor-
responding with name in ours ? . . . Well, I will tell you, it was noinen. And
that word in English is called . . . Can none of you tell me? . . . Well, it is
noun. And hence all these words are called . . . nouns. Give me then
some more name-words, that is . . . Nouns. Look around and tell me all the
nouns you can see or think of. (Children here give a long list.) Find out all
the nouns in lesson and print them on . . . slate, and show them to me when
I call you. An additional list of nouns is given every day for a fortnight or
more, even until they become familiar at a glance with this part of speech.

Verb. Sketch of oral lesson. As no sentence can be formed without the
verb, it should be pictured out immediately after the noun. The teacher
should a.sk the class to write down list of nouns and to read them — Dog,
Sheep, Cat, Cow, &c. He then asL. t ejira of these animals does, when
their appropriate actions are mentioned by the children. He should then
enquire whether these animals or their actions €ar<! of the greater importance.
Tlie children are uncertain on this point, when the teacher works it out and
satisfies them that what they do is greater than what they are. Hence the
superior value of the word that ir ^' "ates the action. Teacher shows that the
Latins were of the same opinion, .., therefore, they called the word that
points out the action verbum, which means ' the word.'

After the scholars are well acquainted with the verb, the teacher will proceed
to paint the difference between the subject and predicate of a sentence, e. g..
The dog bar' The object presented to the mind is the subject of sentence,

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and what is said, or afTirined, or predicated regardinj^ it, is called the pvp-
dicute of sentence.

Ailjectwc. Skrtcli of oral lessoii. Tlie teacher here ivsks the class to read
out the nouns in tlic second ])ara<^rapli ot tlie lesson, and the I'ollowinfj; list is

fiven : — house, table, hov, }^irl, roK«;, hill, &c. The teacher now enquires how
e is to find out what knul of a house, or table, or boy, or rose it is, and the
childn^n will at once reply that it is by jtuttinjij new or old before house, larjje
or small, i"ounil or square before table, bad or fjcnid be<()re boy. All these
words tell soniethin<r about or belonj^iiij^ to the noun, or exj)ress some ipiality,
and tills is done by puttiii}^ or throwin^r another word to the noun. Here
show what the Latin wcu'd is that means to put to, to a|)pend, to throw to, viz.,
adjiceo, ailjrctutt, and hence ailject-ive, adjective. All words then that express
some (piality or property of the noun aiv calleil adjectives.

It may be well here also to j»icturc out a, and «», and thr — now };enerally
ranking as adjectives and not ius articles. I'icture out the ditrerence between
house, a house, and the house — a and the liinitinjf the meaning of the word
house, the Ibriuer iudetinite and the latter detiiiite.

Aflrcrh. Sketch of oral lesson. Here the teacher may ask the class to rend
out the fu-st three sentences of the lesson. ' The fire burns brightly.' ' The
child is exceedingly dear to his mother.' ' Tlu; birds lly very swiftly. Taking
up the fii-st sentence encpiiiv how the fire is burning, and here bring out the
i(lea that ' brightly* just does to the verb what the adjective to the noun,
and hence the designation, Adverb. IShow that it is also appended to the
adjective. ' The child is exceedingly dear to his mother,* and also to other
adverbs. ' The birds fly very swiflly.* IJut it is to the verbs that this data
of words is principally joined, and hence the name. Hei-e the teacher instructs
his scholars to go to their seats and write on slate ; " the adverbs in a certain
given space.

Pronoun. Sketch of oral lesson. The teacher selects the following pas-
sage and makes the scholars read it : — ' John hius got his lessons well ; they
are hard ; but he is a boy, who is sure to improve, as he is very industrious.'
Now the tCiicher enquires what the word his oefoi-e lessons i-efers to — and he,
who, he. Having obtained this, he then bids the cliuss read the sentence with
the words complete, as John reads John's lessons, &c. He now contrasts the
two forms, the one and the other, showing how much neater and more conve-
nient the one is than the other. Having pointed out that fact, that these little
words stand in the room of the noun, tlie teacher will next train the class to
make the word, by asking them what prefix signifies — in the room or place
of — and then to add that prefix to noun, which gives the word in the room
of or in the place of the noun, viz., pronoun.

Preposition. Sketch of oral lesMm. The teacher pictures out the Iwok
on and under the table, and then asks the jiupils to write the sentences, show-
ing the relation of the book anrl table. The book is on the table. The book
is under the table. Show the impropriety of saying the book is the table on,
or the book is the table under, and that because the on and under would not
be in their right position, that being before the noun to which they stand
related. Hence it would not do to call it post-position, but preposition.
Write out on slate all the prepositions in your lesson.

Conjunction. Sketch of oral lesson. Here the teacher pictures out the
uniting of two roads, from opposite quarters, and shows that the place of
meeting is called the 'junction.* Then show two clauses separate, e. g., Jane
came fii-st, John came a little after; enquire what the word of junction is, and
fill it in. And to confirm this junction all the more put ' con' as a prefix, and
this gives 'conjunction' or the act of conjoining words or clauses.

Interjection. Sketch of oral lesson. The teacher shows that all animals
have some peculiar sound to express any sudden feeling. The dog barks

ART OP EDUCATION.

3C9

anil frisks about when happy, and pivos a loud moaning howl when
iiiilia])py. Mi'n or boys havi^ also a sound l)y which they express thi'ir sorrow
or joy. So tliere are words in all languages that give evnresHion to these
ouiolions, and these are simply thrown between other words of the sentence.
Oh ! how glad we shall be ! AIa.<» ! my son is death Here picture out the
verb to throw, — jacio, the act of throwing — jactus, the act of throwing be-
tween — inter-ject-ion — interjection.

We have now distingui.shed the eight sorts of words, viz., the noun,
or the name- word ; the verb, or that which is said or atfirraed res^ acting
the noun ; the adjective, or something belonging to the noun ; the
adverb, or somethiug belonging to the verb ; the pronoun, or the word
tliat serves the same purpose as the noun, or which is used in its stead ;
the preposition, or the word that connects words and points out their
relation ; the conjunction, or the word used to connect words and
sentences ; the interjection, or the word that expresses some sudden
emotion of joy or grief. We have also seen what constitute the two
essential parts of a sentence, the subject and predicate.

We have just shown that there are eight distinct classes of words,
all differing from one another, because performing different offices.
But these classes of words differ among themselves as well as from
one another, there being three kinds of nouns, two of verbs, two of
adjectives, &c. This introduces us to another subdivision or stage in
which we are to trace the distinction that obtains among words of the
same class. Here we shall pursue the same course, picturing out in
detail the different sorts of nouns, and then presenting a brief sketch
of the others.

Stage 2. Oral lesson on the different sorts of nouns, or how to distinguish
one class of noims from another.

Will you be so kind as read the second sentence in your lesson to-day ?
John is a good and diliyent boy, but Jane is noted for idleness. You can all
tell me how many nouns there are in this sentence. . . . Four, viz., John,
boy, Jane, idleness. Are these four nouns all alike or are they all different V
The two nouns, John and Jane, are pretty much alike ; they are particular
names ylven to particidar persons. Quite right ; but do you know what they
are called ? . . . Well, I am not surprised that you are not sure about
the answer to this question. You can tell me what a man, who owns many
houses or fields, is said to be . . . Of great possessions or of great wealth.
Ves, he is said to have ... a large property. All these things are . . .
his, properly; they properly . . . belong to him. And hence, John and
Jane are called . . . proper nouns. Well, but are there not a gi-eat many
Johns' and Janes' in the world ? / know several Johns, says Peter Brown.
You see then that John is never used for a class, but only to point out . . .
a single persbn at a time. They are always employed therefore . . . as
proper nouns. Do you see anything peculiar in the first letter of these
words? Both Jane and John begin toith capitals. Yes, all proper names
liegin with . . . large letters. See that you always remember this. All pro-
per names, whenever they occur, begin with . . . capitals. Go now to your
seatd and find out all the proper nouns in the next two pages, count them

4HI

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TKAC1IKR8 TKXT-BOOK.

iVnil what are you to bo sure tu do . . . Make

SIiow iiR' your list of proper nouns V

; Sli;ikH|»i'ri''s, and tlic ( a!orjj;e's, antl

Some may considi-r tliesc connnon nouns

cart'f'nlly, and write down aix.
the first letter (i cit/iital.

Ajhrnoim lesson. Noun eontimied
I xi'f you have m>t tliu Milton's, and tlui Sliaks|»i'ri''s, and tiic ( a!orjj;e's, and
till' Kaitliacd's all . . . in ctijtilals.

bi'cauM' (licy lu'Kjn^^ to a rliiKS. I cronsider tlu-ni ius border words (In re
draw a pieture) in a kind of transiticju state. In that ease they an; (|uitc
correct — at le;ist they are more proper than otherwise, (iive me the ne.xt
noun? Hoi/. Who is the boy iiore refi'rreil to? Il is John. (Jive ilic
names of sonn' other lM)ys ? Alejutnder, ThoiiKts, ./(iiiies, I'eter. Yes, I daru
say you eoidd j^ive me a ^reat many more names. You would call every oiio
of tlienj . . . a ho//, that !.•<, the word boy would be . . . coiunton to them oil.
And henee a name •riven in eonunon to every thin<r of the same kind i.sealled
. . . (/ common noun. Then' are a j^reat many nouns l)eloni^in^ to this elites.
. . . Yes, a (jreut mom/. Supposes you .saw two, or three, or (()ur, or five
things exactly alike, add not you <;ive them separate names. No; hut a
uuiiie common tu then, '/. Are there then a j^reat many objects or thln},'s
alike in the world ? Yen. And hence there are a threat number of . . .
common nouns. Can you mention any of them ... I see yon don't know
thoin, I will tell you a few. Tiie words, lion, liouse, will apply to each
individual lion or house, and tiiere are many nouns which ' m be ased to
desi«rnate any one of which a class c<msist.x, and hence are led . . . ctdss
nouns. Sometimes a number of individuals are united tojrether to represent
one whole, such as . . . school, company, Jlock. These are called . . . col-
lective. Others are called diminutive because they express some diminu-
tion of . . . the oriifinal. And others com|)ound, becau.se they are formed by
the union . . . of two or more words, §r.

Now tell me the third noun of the sentence? Idleness. This is neither a

I)roper nor . . . a common noun, can you tell me what kind it is . . . Well,
'. do not wonder that you an' sih'ut here. Now tell me, when you look at the
snow, or the grass, or the {^irl at school, whether you see any thing besidis
these objects Z Yes, we see hoth the white colour of the snow, and the green
colour of the r/rass and the idle conduct of the girls. Now you could take the^e
colours away from the objects to which . . . they hi long, and reflect upon
tlieni . . . as .separate. You would then give them distinct names, s.icli
as . . . whitenes.'i, greoine.ts. And could you take the »pnility away from
the girls and look at it in itself ? Yes. And you would call it . . . Idlenisn.
What would you call all such nouns ? Giving a separate existence to qualities
residing in ohjects or things, liut 1 want one word to express all this. Would
you like to know what it is ? Yes. Well, it is abstract. Tract is . . . fl
Latin root, and significii . . . taken away, and the prefix abs. signifies . . .
from — taken away from . . . nouns or . . - abstract nouns. Do you tliink
there are any other varieties of abstract nouns besides the names of qualitifs
. . . Well, I will tell you. There arc names of actions, such as participial or
verbal nouns, and names of states or conditions, such as sickness, &c. Now
go to your seats and find out, in the three next pages of your text-book, all
the examples you can of these three sorts of nouns . . Proper, Common and
Abstract.

Verbs. Sketch of oral lesson. The teacher here invites the class to read
the following sentence . " William vioved the table and the horses ran," and to
point out the difference between the two verbs contained, the one having i*n
object afler it and the other having none. Here picture out the difference in
meaning by the difference in form ; in the one case, the action passes over
from William to the table ; and in the other, it is confined to the horses.
This makes a material difference in reference to the action performed, and
there must be words mauufactuied to give expression thereto. Paint the

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ART OP EDCCAT10N>.

371

action by the trannit of floods, a passinj^ on from ono place to anotlu^r.
fau-ic the nupils to form an adjective from transit by aOixing the Pcxstfix ive,
und thih will jjjiv*; tiie word required, viz., tlie act of pjufsin^ over from ono
oi ject to an(»lher. The opposite cliuw of vitUs do not do tliis, and all that
is licre nnjuired is to pn-fix the nej;ative to the adjeeti.'c^ — intransitive

Hilt tlie transitive veri) iissiunes two forms, the artiv«! and passivi^ voice;
the former, when w(> wish to ji^ive special prominenct; to the doer and the
action, the latter when we wish tocive nrominenct^ to the object and tlio
manner in whi«;h it is alTected, whi<;n is ilone by tlie suKstantive verb to he,
and the complete or piust participle. Here give a picture of tliese two voices
by tiie ti)llowin{j sentence : ' Cicsar ecmtjuered Britain.* ' liritain wa.s con-
quered by CjCiar.' In each sentence tlie v»!rb is alike active, but the nomi-
native is active in the fn-st and p!ussiv(i in the s(!<:ond.

Tlie intransitive has also subdivisions, hut these are too refined to be intro-
•duced here.

Verbs are also divideil with n-specl to their form into three classes, — re;^u-
!ar, irre;;ular and defective.

The re}:;ular are those that form their j»a-st tensc! and p.ost particij)le by
addinij; d or ed t(j the present, and the irrej^ular those that observe no such
form. Here <^ve sentences where the words love and favour, or see an I ixo
occur, and picture out this dirteirnce. The regular form is the modcirn mode,
and is called * the weak.' The irregular is the ancient mode, is evidently of
Sax(m origin, and is denominated 'the strong.' The tendency of the present
day is to diminish the irregular. All new words take the regular form. The
dcH'ctive verbs, subdivided into jirineipal and auxiliary, imjwii-sonal and
rclicctive, may Vw all treated in the same way.

Adjective. Sketch of oral lesson. Here the teacher rotjuires the class to
read tiie following sentence : " lie howjhl a white, long and pleasant robe,
for which he paid Imentij dollars ; some .^aj/ it was cheap, and several think it
was too much. John thinks that this one is more heauti/ul than that one."
Show that there are three sorts of adjectives here; those that express quality,
or the attributive, white, long, plea.sant, cheap; tho.'^e that express quantity
x)r the numeral, twenty, some, much, several ; those that expre.«s di.stniciion,
viz.. til).- and that. These, at a more advanced period, may be again subdi-
vided. Those that refer to quality may be either sensible, comparative,
rational, (paint all these). "Those that refer to (piaiitity may be either
definite, indefinite oi- di.stributlve. Those that refer to distinction are a, or
the, this or that.

Adncrh. Sketch of oral lesson. Cause the children to read the third sen-
tence of the recited lesson. " He arrived yesterday Um<j before the time
fixeil, IS he w but .-iet/ltmi late," and show that all tlie ailverb^ in this sentence
refer to time, in one sense or another ; yesterday, to a point > if time ; long, to
duration of time; and seldom, to repetition of time. Again, ,isk the children
to read the next sentence : — " The messengers arrived there and had not /;;•«-
■ceedcd far up at too o'clock." Here show that the adverbs in this sentence
art- all ni" place ; there, rest in a place ; far upwards, motion to or from a
place. And so onward with the remainder of the adverbs, picturing them
out as you proceed.

Pronoun. Sketch of oral lesson. Cause the cla.ss to read the first sentence
of their lesson. " / saw three of the men who came from town yesterday.
What did they say concerning the fire?" The tdass are all competent to

rick out the pronouns in this sentence ; I, who and what. Picture out what
n'fers to, viz., to the person who speaks ; and hence it is called the j)ei'sonal
pronoun; then what who relates to, viz., to the three men, and is called the
relative, not merely because it is a sukstitute for the three men, but because
it joins or relates one sentence to another. The other pronoun asks a ques-

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tion, \Vliat <li(l they say concernin}; tlic fire ? rictiire out the Latin woni
that iiiii)lies to ask a (jiicstion, ami sliow that tlie wonl ' intcrrocrative* is the
appelhitioii pivim to tliat sort of nronomi. Thus tljere arc tliree siini)le pro-
nouns, tlio iJei-sonal, ivhitive and interro}i;ative. But there are also couipouiul
ones. Cause tlie 8i;hohirs to read the following sentence : — " /, rni/selj] sealed
my own cmidevination ; whoever cancels it, F care not." Ilei-e we jiave the
conii)onnd, personal, possessive and relative, all imparting emphasis and
extent of nu-aiiing to the simple.

Prep<isitio)is. Sketch of oral lessmi. Read the first sentenee of the third
paragrajjh of yoiu' lesson. " He laid the hook- on the table in the inorniiuf
he/ore 7 o'clock; and this he did irith all his heart from gratitude, and against
all the remonstrances of his friends." Aller a seleetion of all the prepositions
in this sentence, show how they ought to be ehussilied by the relations they
indicate. ' On the table,' the relation of place ; ' in the morning, before
7 o'clock,' the relaticm of time; ' with all his heart,' the agent, or means, or
instrument of an action ; ' Ironi gratitude,' the cause or purpose of an action ;
• against all the ixMuonstrances ot his fiienth a gi-eat variety of relations not
easily clasf^ified. Hence, w(' have preiKisitions j>ointing out the relations of
place, time, the agent or nu-ans, the cause or purj)Ose of an action. Besides
tht^se, there is a large number of prepositions, luiplying relations not easily
cla.ssified.

Conjunctions. Sketch of oral les.ton. Read your ne.Kt two sentences.
" William icas atnhitious and England was enslaceil. Alcinnder was brarc
or Greece was ruined." Here picture out what the conjunction and does in
the first sentence; tiiat it not oidy joins two sentences but unites their mean-
ing. And Ix'cause it thus ratifies the union or makes it doubly strong, it is
called ' copulative,' — cojnda signifying a link or connection, and, hence, the
adjective, copulative. Again, picturi; out what the conjunction d(H\s in the
second sentence, joining the two sentences, but disuniting their meaning or
putting them in contrast, and, hence, called ' disiiuictive conjunction.' IJoth
these are subdivided, thv ' cojiulative,' into copulative connective and copulative
eontinuative ; the ' disjunctive,' into disjunctive distributive and disjunctive
adversative. Take sentences where these conjunctions occur and picture out
the actualities, and then show their application to the signs.

Interjection. Sketch of oral lesson. Here give sentences, embracing the
different interjections, all exj)res.«ive of the various emotions of the mind, of
joy ajul soiTOM', of approbation, of s'lrprise, &c., and picture them out ; first tiic
reality, and then the signs or expressions.

We have now finished the second stage, pointing out the distinctions
that obtain among words of the same class. These subdivisions may
bo more or less minute according to circumstances, according to the
age and intelligence of tlie pupils, according to the attainments of the
pupils in reference to the eight parts of speech.

During the whole time that the first and second stages are carried
on, the analysis of simple sentences, with the enlargement of subject
and predicate, should be constantly attended to. One example, at
least, from the English exercise recited, should be carefully analysed.
Here, too, the expansions will be more or loss minute, according to
the qualifications of the scholars. At the end of the second stage, the
distinction may be drawn between simple and compound sentences,
compreheuJing by the latter those sentences that have both subordi-

^MHPfP"

ART OP EDUCATION.

373

nate and co-ordinate clauses. A month may be very advantageously
devoted to this work before the commencement of third stage.

Stage 3. This stage indicates the changes which words undergo
from the rehition in which tliey stand to one another in the same
sentence. It only extends to the five d(H^linable parts of speech, as
they arc called, the noim, the verb, the adjective, adverb, and pronoun.
It is an admirable arrangement by which social intercourse or speech
may be carried on, without the needless multiplication of vocables.

Noun. Oral lesson on the ninnher, gender and case of nouns in detail.
^^^lat do I hoUl in my haixl ? .1 stone. What now V Stones. Wiiat iiave
1 now ? A hm>L And wliat now ? Books. Please tell n»e tlic dUlorence
when you see nie holdinj^ one stone or a number of stones . . . Yoitj)ut an s
to the one .10 as to expres.1 a numher. Now can you {j;ive a list in whieli you
do the same thinp. (Chihlreii cry out hats, tables, chairs, desks, Sfc.) 1
shall write a few of these upon the blackboard. (Here the ttuicher writes a
loii^ list and then a^ks again the dillerenee.) The first list . . . means ju.>il
one, and the second . . . more than one. (Jive me any other word that ex-
presses one ? Single. And from that comes anotluT adjective — do you know
what it ia ? . . . Well, I'll tell you. Singular. Stone tlien you call . . . Sin-
(fular number. Could you give me an adjective to expixjss the word that
signifies more than one ? — you know the sign of more . . . Plus. You
can tell me a word that comes from that . . . Plural. When then you
wish to express one, you call it . . . Singidar. And more than one . . .
Plural. Do you think the singular is formed from tlu' ])lural or the j)lural from
the singular r The plural from the singular. In what way . . . Jig adding
an s. Now make me a couunon rule for the formation of the j)lural V The
plural is formed from the singular hij adding an s. Do you think you can
form every plural number in this way? . . . You .are not very sure.
Well take your slates and write the following nouns : — (}ju^, fish, in(;h, box,
hero, — and now give the plural of all these nouns, formed in accordance with
yi)ur rule ? Gass, ^'c. Show your slates. All right, and now pronounce
those. (Chihlren here try but caimot soinul them so a.s to show that they are
plural). Give me the plural. Gases, Ji.shes, Sf-c. You put in an e in addi-
tion to the s, for what reason V liccause though lh< g mag show the plural
numher in the written form, theg cannot he pronounced without an e, and it i;;
tuserted. Do you know any other exceptions V . . . Write loaf, knife, leaf,
half, calf, wife — and form their plural. Loafs, l-nifes, leafs, halfs, calfs, wifes.
What think yon of these j)lurals ? Thcg are verg hard to pronounce. Yes —
they are very grating — wanting euphony. Let me hear how you would sound
them to bo more melodious ? Loaves, knives, ^c. This is by . • . Changing
the f into ve 1)efore adding the s. Then there are reiisons, imiK)rtant reasons,
for all these exceptions . . . Yes. There is just another exceptional rule
relative to the plural of nouns, can you ti'll me what that is V . . . Well,
I'll give you a list of nouns and you will tell me the plural. Fly, story, duty,
glory, bounty, lady . . . Flies, .stories, fs'c. Si)ell these plurals and then
make a rule. Besides these general exceptions, there are several iiT«'gular
words of Saxon origin and other peculiarities which may be given on a future
occiusion.

Gender of nouns. Please read the first sentence in the le.'^son you have
just recited. The lion and the lioness were in the den ; but she, heroine
Ihom/h she was, was afraid to go near. Now there are two words in this
sentence nearly alike, and yet difl'erent, tell me what these words are, in
what they dilTer, and the caiuse thereof? Lioji, lioness, the second address

i
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374

TEACHER'S TEXT-BOOK.

1:1

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4 m

/o the first, and this is one of the ways by which the distinction of sex is expressed.
Give me a list of all the nouns you remember that take the same form for the
purpose of . . . Making the same distinction ; those that have ess to distin-
guish the female from the male, — Duke — Duchess, Tiger — Tigress, Count —
Countess, Sf-c. "Yes, that is enough at present of this sort. You can tell me
any other word in the sentence . , . Heroine. Tl>at is the female, and the
male is . . . hero. Any others ? Sometimes by using different words, .^uch as,
boy — girl, husband — wife, ox or steer and heifer. Any others ? Sometimes by
prefixing another word — man-servant, maid-servant, he-goat, nhe-goat, cock-spar'
row, hen-sparroio. Now you have told me that this diirerenoe point^s out
whether the word is . . . male or female, you can give one word to express all
this . . . Well, It is the won! ' gentler,' which is of Latin origin, derived
from the wonl germs, vsignifying a race. Now tell me how nvany sexes
or genders there are ? Just two, male and female. What are the names
usually given to these sexes or genders ? . . . You don't know. The
Latin word that signifies a male is, mas, and a female, femina, and from these
we get ' nuusculine' and ' ft^minine,' and these are the words used to express
the two . . . Sexes or genders. The names given to those wonls that are
neither masculine nor feminine, such as ... all things loithoui tifc, or
inanimate objects, you may call them neither ma.scuUne nor feminine. But
this is a too . . . — round-a-bout expression. Yas, and there is a Latin
word, neuter, that signifies ' neither,* which is the term here applied. Repeat
now all the genders ? Masculine, Feminine, and Neuter. Go and examine
the last two pages you have read, and count the number of nouns of each
gender.

Case. Please read the first sentence of the second paragraph of this
day's lesson . . . W'lliam has taken his father's book from the liltrartj. Some
of you can tell me tiie relation in which the proper noun William occupies in
this sentence . . . It stands in the relation ofstd)ject to the predicate ' ' ^ ^ taken.'
Tliis, then, is its . . . state or condition from the place it holds . 'e sen-
tence. This is called in grammar . . . the case, from the Latin word casus—
fallen, ov the state into which a noun falls . . . with a reference to other
words in the sentence. How many cases have English nouns ? Just three ; the
one called, — the naming or nominative case — the pwsessivo, which indioatoa
the possessor of something ; and th' other is the objective, that is the case
which is the object of the verb or preposition. You can tell me now the
three cases in English language . . . Nominative, Possessive, and Ohec-
tive. William, then, you say, is . . . the nominative case. What case is
book ? It is the one which is the object of the verb ' has taken,' the objective case.
Does it differ in form from nominative ? No, it is exactly the same. Then,
how do you distinguish it ? From the relation it holds in sentence, as here,
where it is so clearly part of predicate or the object of the verb. What case is
father's ? It points out the relation of book and fathe , that the book is the
possession of the father, or . . . belonying to, and therefore it is called . . . the
possessive case. How is it distinguished from any other case, in what way ?
By adding an s and putting an inverted comma before it, called . . . You don't
know. It is called an apostrophe. When the noun is in the plural and end's
in s, how is it then distinguished ? Just by the insertion of an apostrophe ajler
thes.

Sketch of oral lesson on verb. The first thing that shoulii here be done by
the trainer, is to picture out the distinction that obtains between the declen-
sion of a noun and the conjugation of a verb. Here much assistance will be
got from the derivation of the words, respectively — Declension from de and
clino, pointing out the bendings or changes which the nouns or pronouns
undergo. — Conjugation — from conjugo — to unite, to join. In grammar,
meaning the connecting of all the parts or inflections of a verb into the scvfr-

ART OF EDUCATION.

375

ral voices, moods, tenses, persons, number. Here, too, it may bo well to point
out tlie rea.son why the verb undergoes more ehanjres than another part of
speeeii, even beeause of the {^reat varlet}' of -conditions in wliieh aetions may
b(! viewed. 1st. In relation to tlie doer, givinj^ birth to the active and pjusslve
voice. 2nd. In relation to the manner or mode in which the action is |)er-
fornied, and which we may ccmsider either a? actual reality, or as a possilulity,
or as a eoniinand, or as a wish, or, gent^rally, iis an action, wholly undefined.
3rd. In relation to the time, which may be either past, present or future with
their modifications, and lumce the tenses. 4th. In relation to the person and
whether singular or [)lural. Short oral lessons may be given cm each of
these. On t!ie Voice; the Moods — Indicative, Subjunctive, Potential, Im-
{KM-ative and Infinitive ; the Tenses — Present, Past and Future, with the differ-
ent modifications ; the Persons and Nunibers.

Sketch of oral lesson on simple and compound verhx. Here draw the dis-
tinction between a simple aiul compound verb. The former ha.s two conju-
giitions, the regular and irregular verb, consisting of Indicative mood, present
and past tense — Imperative mood — Infinitive — Participles. The latter p -e-
sents a complete form of the English verb, made up of the ordinary, ]»io-
fjressive and emj)hatic. Here picture out the diflerencc between a Prin-
cipal and Auxiliary, and present an exemplification — the latter the auxiliaries
of voice, viz., the verb to he joined to the complete participle of any transi-
tive verb — the auxiliaries of mood, maij, can and must, for the Potential or
Optative mood, and will and shall for the Conditional or Subjunctives mood —
the auxiliaries of tense are have, shall and will, the perfect and pluf)erfect, tiie
future and future jierfect. Auxiliary of P^mpha.sis and Interrogation, do.
Thniugh the help of these auxiliaries make the class construct a complete
form of verb for themselves.

Sketch of oral lesson on adjective. The teacher, with three rods, draws out
from his pupils the fact that these rods are all long, j)laces two together and
elicits the idea that the one is shorter or the other is longer, and then
puts them all together and shows the one to be longest of all, and one the
sliortest of all. Or he may take a number of rings, works <" nm his j)uj)ils that
they are all beautifid, that one is more beautiful or less bt uitiful, and that a
third or fourth is the most beautifid, or the least beautiful. The teacher
writes these two forms upon the blackboard, anil from the difference in form,
he trains out the difference in meaning. Having found out that the jn-ocess
is one of comparison, he then trains his pupils to the conclusion that adjecti)'es
not only express the quality of nouns, but a higher or lower degree thereof.
Then he will picture out the nomenclature of the degi'ees, the cromparative
and the superlative, pointing out the irregular and defective degrees, and
invariable adjectives as they occur.

Adverbs. Sketch of oral lesson. A sentence, such as the following, occurs
in the lesson prepared : " James reads distinctly ; he is a very diligent boy,
and prepares his lessons most carefully. I run fast ; he runs faster ; he runs
fastest. Jane sings more beautifully than Elizabeth ; and Sarah the most
beantifidly of all." Here picture out the force and beauty of the adverb, in
expressing the action more clearly, and, especially, in iin])arting gn^ater
definiteness to the same. Show also that the adverb is, generally speaking,
derived from the adjective, and that it is susceptible of degrees of comparison.

Pronoun. Sketch of oral lesson. Picture out the idea that as pronouns are
purely the substitutes of nouns, they undergo inflexion in number, gender
and case. Show the changes which pronouns undergo in all these respects,
theflc being far greater than in nouns themselves. A superficial examination
of the personal and relative pronouns will show what these changes are.

Here end our examples of oral lessons on analytical grammar.

During the Inflection stage, or the period when this process is going

. ■•

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376

teacher's text-book.

Ill

ou, there are exercises every day, or, at least, every alternate day, on
the analysis of sentences, discussing principally the ditt'erence between
simple and compound sentences. When the inflection is well nigh
finished, it may be advantageous to advance a step in this work, by
picturing out the difference between the compoand subordinate and
the compound co-ordinate sentences, with bond of relations and
connectives of both. We vastly prefer this division of the analysis of
sentences to that of Morrell. 1. Simple ; 2. Compound ; 3. Subor-
dinate and co-ordinate. The terms complex and compound are too
nearly allied, all but synonymous, to be employed as characteristic of
different kinds of compound sentences, at least with young children.
Picture out all this from the sentences as they uccur.

Stage 4. But there is another relation of words to one another in
a sentence, besides that on which their import or meaning depends, we
refer of course to the collocation or disposition of words in a sentence,
whether these agree with or govern one another. Here there should
be a pictorial representation on the difference between concord and
government, and exemplifications thereof given as they o'^cur in the
lessons that are read. Some of these relations are fundamental and
belong to all languages, and others are peculiar or belong to special
languages. Here pictorial lessons should be given on the predicate
relation between the nominative and its verb — on the objective rela-
tion, or the relation between the verb and its object — on the attributive
relation, or that which subsists between the adjective and noun — the
adverbial relation, or the modification of the meaning of any words
which convey the idea of an action or attribute either verb, adverb or
adjective — and the conjunctive relation, or that which unites together
notions or assertions which hold the same relation in any given sentence.

In the picturing out of these relations, the pupils should be required
to make rules for themselves. The special rules of syntax should be
reserved for synthetical grammar.

Punctuation. Here picture out punctuation under the similitude of
a house. Let orthography represent the frame-work and foundation, —
Etymology, the stones or brick, and mortar, and lumber, — Construc-
tion, or grammatical analysis, placing all the materials together into
groups for building, — Arrangement, or collocation of words into con-
cord and government, giving rules for putting them together to form
the house, and Punctuation, dividing the house into separate apart-
ments, thereby making it depend upon the connection of the thoughts
in a passage. When that connection is unusually close, such as subsists
between the subject, predicate, object, and simple adjuncts of a sentence,

Prep

Conj

Inter

Stage 3,

the sentence

Noun

Verb

A(]JC!(

Adve

Pi-onc

Staqe 4.

Prodi

ObjtH

Attril

Adve

Conju

ART OP EDUCATION.

377

mmmmf^

there is no necessity for any partition walls or points. In compound
sentences, composed of principal clause and a number of dependent
clauses, as well as in all contracted sentences, the smallest division or
comma should be placed. In compound sentences, when there is no
dependence except a common appropriation, such as a suite of bed-
rooms, then a larger partition is erected — a semi-colon is placed.
When there is a number of apartments, dependent upon one common
source, whether consisting of one or more called apodosis, a larger
division is made — a colon is here placed. When there is no connec-
tion between the apartments, or between the thoughts, the thickest
wall is erected — the period is inserted.

"We have now presented a complete outline of the different stages
of analytical grammar, but before we leave the subject, we give
the following tabular representation : —

Stage 1. Classification of words, or how to distinguish the different classes
of words. The number is eight, and it is complete. Two — the noun and
pronoun give the names of thmgs ; three — the verb, adjective and adverb, of
attributes ; and two — preposition and conjunction, of relations. The only one
remaining is the interjection, which has no grammatical relation to the other
parts of sentence.

Stage 2. Subdivisions or the distinctions that reiyn amongst the same class
of words.

1. Noun. — Proper, common, abstract.

2. Verb. — Transitive and Intransitive — Rogidar and Irregular — Principal

ard Auxiliary — Impersonal, &c.

3. Adjective. — Quality or attributive — Quantity or numeral — Distinction

or distinctive.

4. Adverb. — Place, Time, Quality, Quantity, Mood.
6. Pronoun. — Personal, Relative and Interrogative.

6. Preposition. — Relations of place, time, instrument, cause

7. Conjunction. — Copulative, subdivided into connective and continuative.

Disjunctive, subdivided into distributive and adversative.

8. Interjection. — The emotions, five or six.

Stage 3. Injiections or the changes tvhich the declinable words undergo in
(he sentence.

1. Noun. — Number, gender, case.

2. Verb. — Voice, mood, tense, number, person.

3. Adjective. — Pasitive, comparative and superlative degrees.

4. Adverb. Do. Do. Do. Do.

5. Pixjnoun. — Number, person, gender, case.

Stage 4. Collocation of words in sentence with rules of syntax,

1. Predicate relation.

2. Objective Do.

3. Attributive Do.

4. Adverbial Do.

5. Conjunctive Do.

"■I

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378

teacher's text-book.

FORMULA FOR PARSING ANALYTICALLY.

Milton's poems are excellent and have a general air of truth.

Words.

Class.

Subdivision.

Inflection.

Syntax.

Milton's

Noun,

Proper.

BIj'g. Masc, Poss.

When two nouns, &c.,the former
is nut in pos.

Poems

Noun.

Common.

Plu. Neu. N(im.

Siibj. of verb is i)ut in nom. case.

are

Verb.

Intraniiitive.

Ind. Pres. I'lui.Srd per-
son.

Verb agrees with iU subj. in
I'umb. and person.

excellent

Affective.

Attributive.

Positive.

AJjectivi 8 (lualify nouns.

and

C 01^ unction.

Copulative.

Coiu unctions connect words,
clauses, &c.

have

Verb.

Trans. Irreg.

Act. Ind. Pres. Plur. 3rd
person.

Verbasrees with subjt. in numh.

and person.
Adjectives qualify nouns.

Adjective.

Dist, Indef.

general

Adjective.

Attiib.

Positive dej?.

Ai^ectives (|ual. nouns.

air

Noun.

Common.

Sing. Neu. Objw;.

Trans, verbs in act. voice gov.
the object.

Prep.

rel. of n. to n

Prep, sliow the rel. of n. to noun.

truth.

Noun.

Abstract.

Sing. Neut. Objec.

Prep, g )v. tht- objective.

We refer our readers to the end of synthetical grammar for formula
of grammatical analysis. There is no need of giving any samples
here, inasmuch as there is really no difference between the analytical
and constructive mode. There is, no doubt, a marked difference be-
tween them in the way in which they are presented to the mind of
the young. At the beginning, and during the whole period of analyt-
ical grammar, all that the teacher can do is to take the sentences just
as they occur in the reading text-book or elsewhere, analyze them
backwards and forwards, and make the class in this department
thoroughly familiar with the different parts, in so far as they are
capable of comprehending them, observing always the three di.stinct
stages, — 1st. The subject and predicate sentences alone, or the simple
sentence. 2nd. The sentence with principal clause and others depend-
ent, or the compound primary. And 3rd. The sentences with any
number of connected clauses, but altogether independent of one
another, or com] und secondary. Morrell's Treatise on Analysis
presents the whole subject in a notional or synthetic form.

Synthetical Grammar. We have discussed at considerable length
the subject of analytical grammar. We trust that a good foundation
has thus been laid, and that the children who have gone through such
a course — and all ought to do so, as a collateral branch of English
reading — will be able at nine years of age, or thereabout, to proceed
in right earnest, ' a connu a I'inconuu.' In a word, such should be
their knowledge of language as it is, such their capability of analyzing
the same as to be prepared, in every way to proceed to regard it as a
science. They may now, with confidence, take the text-book into
their hands and prosecute its study with intelligence, profit and interest.

All grammai's are constructed pretty much on the same principle.

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ART OP EDUCATION.

379

Some are, no (loul)t, superior to others, but this is more in the arrange-
ment or ilhistration than in any real difference in the essence. Great
improvements have taken place, in more recent times, in bi.*ii these
respects, and especially in the syntactical department. Amidst st'-'h
an imniense multiplicity of grammars, it is hard to make a selection,
or to say which is the host. Some are more elaborate than others as
a whole, and some excel in one department, and others in another.
Perhaps the two, which, as a whole, we would prefer for their simpli-
city and utility, are Wilson's of Glasgow, and Morrell's, one of Her
Majesty's inspectors of schools. There are others, however, that
every teacher should have beside him for consultation. These are
Wallis, Ilorne Tooke, Sir John Stoddart, Latham, Fowler and Cob-
bctt. These grammars all begin with definitions.

The first definition is that of language ; — what it is, and then the
distinction into spoken and written, with their respective elements.
Language, in its end, is to give expression to thought ; and as every
thought consists of an act of the mind regarding the object presented
to it, it must consist of a noun and a verb, and this is called a sentence,
or, logically regarded, a proposition. What is the composition of a
sentence, or it^ elements, its ingredients, its parts? Clauses or
sentences, WQvds, letters. And hence the threefold division or classi-
fication into Orthography, Etymology and Syntax ; the first treating
of everything belonging to letters, the second, to words, and the third,
to sentences. But language is also capable of being converted into
metre or versification, and a separate class has accordingly been
assigned to poetry, though, properly speaking, it is only a department
of syntax. This division is called Prosody. The following are the
subjects that fall under each of these heads or classes :
Class I. — Orthography.

1. Letters — their origin and history; 2. Forms; 3. Sounds; 4.
Names; 5. Combinations.

Class II. — Etymology.

1. Words — their classification ; 2. Inflection; 3. Structure, deriva-
tion and synonyms.

Class III. — Syntax.

L Construction of sentences ; 2. Arrangement of sentences with
rules of syntax ; 3. Punctuation.

Class IV. — Prosody.
I. Principles and laws of harmony in metrical compositions; 2.
Versification, kinds, &c.

I .

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380

teacher's text-book.

Such is a brief outline of grammar synthetical or the science of lan-
guage. There is no need of going farther into detail, as this can be
seen in any of the excellent text-bocks referred to. In some of these
text-books, as in Wilson, the derivation of the technicalities is given.
This is of value, and must prove of practical utility to non-classical
teachers, in explaining terms to scholars. The pupils should be requir-
ed to get these derivations very thoroughly, as auxiliary to the thing
signified. It is more to our purpose that we make a few observations
on the method of teachi.ig grammar, synthetically. And here, as in
every other department, we would first urge the propriety of teaching
by outlines. The general benefits of this system have already been
noticed. Its special benefits in grammar are such as the following: —
1. Imparting a connective view of the whole subject, giving a clearer
discernment and a more hearty appreciation of the parts in detail,
rendering the different steps in the acquirement more interesting and
lightsome, disciplining mind, and thereby fitting us for higher exercises
in our future life-work. 2. Another observation that we would offer
is, that in the study of grammar every stage should be accompanied
with practical exercises, whatever is the department under review.
In orthography, for example, the sounds of the letters should be
repeatedly gone over, in order to train to the proper use of the
lingual organs, which will be of great service in the whole matter of
elocution. (If this has not been properly taught in connection with
reading, it should receive special attention here.) In etymology,
parsing should be practised every day. And there h, perhaps, no
better way of doing this, than by taking a paragraph or so in every
reading lesson, sometimes the sentence straight-forwards, and at other
times selecting words. It would be well with advanced classes to
select peculiarities or niceties. The master may, and ought to have,
an eye to this in his preparation of the piece. With a year's experi-
ence in the practice of parsing there is little necessity for taking up
every word in detail, at .least every day. Selections should be made;
but whatever passage is taken, or whatever woi "s, a regular formula
should be observed both in analysis and parsing. The former should
be here taught constructively, in accordance with the plan pursued by
Morrell and other synthetical writers, that is, proceeding from particu-
lars to generals. The teacher should first show what an idea or thought
is, what its most bald and naked form or expression, and how both
the subject and predicate may be enlarged. Then he should show
how the primary elements of the sentence may be expanded into
phrases and subordinate sentences. A proper foundation being thus

•TW'^I

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381

laid, the subject of the sentence may be discussed. The simple
sentence shouhl be here opened up and considered both in its essence
uud modifications, especially in tho latter. Here every pains should
be taken to give tho pupils a thorough understaiiding of a simple
sentence, as tho best cue for arriving at a knowledge of all the sorts
of compound sentences. The compound pririLry should be then con-
sidered, and the distinction drawn between the pvihcipal and subordi-
nate clauses, pointing out clearly the connective link, p id the depend-
ence either in meaning or in grammar. Then follow the compound
secondary sentences with all their co-ordinate clauses and connecting
particles. Here, to the form of parsing may be changed. Instead
of going from generals to particulars, as in the analytical mode, V\e
may proceed from particulars to generals in accord duce with the whole
synthetical arrangement.

In the syntactical department the synthetical order should also be
pursued. Here a great simplifying has been effected. In Murray
and Lennie, and some of the old grammars, the rules of concord and
government were nearly fifty in number, with no small addition of
foot notes. Now they are reduced to twelve o." thirteen, and made to
depend on the relations in which the different words stand to one
another. Three on noun and pronoun — one on adjective — one on
pronoun — three on verb — one on adverb— one on preposition— one on
conjunction — on'^ on interjection — one general. In exemplifying and
applying these rul*^ i, there is perhaps no better mode than the old
system of interspersing false syntax. The correction of this whets
our powers of criticism in literature, and should operate as a powerful
check in the use of ungrammatical language.

Another branch of tho practical may be here noticed, we refer to
the marks of punctuation in written language. It is a great improve-
ment on the old-fashioned style to observe the attention given to these
marks in the common reading lesson ; but more should be done. In
every exercise, whatever may be the department, the punctuation
ought to be carefully attended to. This will impart precision of
thought and facility in composition. The following may serve as a
formula for synthetical parsing, or proceeding from particulars to
generals : —

I !

i::illfiiil

I*')

382

TKACUKU8 TEXT-BOOK.

Sentence, A dutiful son obeys his fiUlier's instructions.

Word.
A

Syntax.

Inflection,

SubdiviHion,

aiWB.

limits Ron. A(\|ectlve8 limit

Iiidolinitev

Adjoctlvi-

IIOUI.H.

dlxti'divo.

dutiful

(|ual. sou. Ac\j('ctivca qualify Po»ltive (legrrc,
IIOUDH, &c. '

Attributive.

A((je<;tiv(

HUH

NuliJ. uf cent. Tint Hubj. of Noin. caHe, xiii);. inaHCuliiie
Hunt, is put in num. |

common.

Noun.

ol>oy»

n({rf''!t with »oii. Verb agroes 3r(l. item. Hlng. Pr«B. tcnHo,

trans, icg.

Verb.

with noun, Ac.

Indie, mood, act* voice.

qunl. t'utlK'r'8. I'oH. pro, qual.
noiuiK.

personal.

Pronoun.

fathn'H

I^iiv. by instrurtion. One noun Poit. Maic. Sing,

common.

Noun.

i*ov. anutlxT, Hi^nilviiiK A

(lif. tiling in tin; ponscHS.

Instructionft.

gov. t\v olx-yn. Tiiin-. vrbn'OlJ. neut, plur,
in activo voice gov, the ob-
jective.

common.

Noun,

FORMi;i,A OK ANALYSIS, CONSTRUCTIVE OR 8YNT1 BTICAL SIMPtK SENTENCES,

Subject,

India

2iid. Further India
yrd. Further India
4th, Further India

Pi edinate.

Object

produces

produces
producps
produces abundantly

rice.

excellent rico.
excellent rice.

DKTAILED ANALYSIS.

1 Further

attributive to 1.

1 India

subject of Heiiti'ucfi.

3 prodiioi^H

predicate oli utenco.

4 abundantly

extension of ))redicate.

"> <'x<'fllcn(,

attiibutive to (!,

6 rice.

object to 3.

FORMULA OF ANALYSIS CONSTUUCTIVK OR SYNTlIETfCAL— COMPOUND
8UBOUD1NATB, OR COMPOUND PRIMARY,

Sentence,

An individual, ignorant
of the nature of a classi-
cal edi'nulion will, in all
likelihood, undervalue it,

*.
when hi, perceives

Kind of Sentence Subject

Predicate. I Object

Priu. sentence.

Kxt'»n.

An individual ig-
norant ol the na-
ture of a cla^iKieal
education

Adv, sentence to [when] he
n.

tliatsofnurh timeisspcn^'Noun sentence [that] to much

on the study offt few au-|obj. to 6. time

thord,

■whose writings do not
appear at all adapted to
the enipioynient« or gra-
tifications of the present
age.

Adj^ sentence to c [whose] \\ lititigK

will un-
dei value

perceives
is spent

do not ap-
pear adap-
ted

iin nil
likeli-
jhood

on the study
of a few au-
thors (indi-
rect object.)

to tlie em- at all
ployments or
gratifications
of the pre- 1
sent age.

ART OK EDUCATION.

DKTAII.ED ANALYSIS.

883

1 An individual

2 i^niorunt

;i oi (lie nut lire

4 oi' 11 classirui education

6 will undervuluu
it

7 in all likelihood

8 (when) he
y perceives

10 (tiiut) 80 much

11 time

12 ii* spent

i;) on the study

14 of a tew authors

15 whose

It) wriiiiijis

17 do not appear tt'lapted

18 to the enijilo , iiienis or ^rutilications
11) ol the present age.

Subject of sent.

Attrih. to 1.

I'rep. phrase— nttrib. to 2.

Predicate of sentence.
Object to 6.
Exten. of pred.

Subject of sentence.
I'red. uf sentence.

Attrib. to 11.

Subj of sent

I'red. of sent.

Exten. of pred.

I'rep. phrase — attrib. to 13.

Attrib. to 10.

Subj. of sent.

I'red. of sent.

Ind. obj. to 17.

I'rep. phrase — attrib. to 18.

'.I

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'» ■

•ii

1 I

FOU.Ml'LA OF ANALYSIS CONSTRUCTIVE OR SYNTHETICAL — COMPOUND
CO-ORUINATK, OR COMPOUND SECONDARY.

Sentence.

Kind ol Sentence

Ht^n^ist anil Horsa ac- Prin.sent. co-ord,

cepU'd (lie invitation of
the SaxiiiiH

ft.
and 8(1(111 clicckod the
progicst; of U»e Caledo-
iiiaiu,

f.
and IjoinK tempted by
thf feitiiity of the soil,
rpsolvt'd to ri'iiiain on the
island.

witli b.

Prill, sent. cop. to
a,

I'rin. sent. cop. to
a and b.

Subject.

Piedicate

Hcngist & Horsa accepted

Ilengist <& Horsa clieche

Keiigist & Horsa resolved to
l)eing tempted by remain
the fertility of
the t<oil

Object.

the invita-
tion ot the
Saxons

the progress soon
of tlie Cale-
donians.

Ext'sn.

on the
island.

DETAILED ANALYSIS.

1 Hengist at ' Horsa

2 accepted

3 the invitation

4 of the Saxons

5 and soon

6 checked

7 the progress

8 of the Caledonians

and being tempted

10 by the fertility

1 1 of the soil

12 resolved to remain

13 on the island.

Subject of sentence.
Predicate of sentence.
Object to 2.
Prep, phrase— attrib. to 3.

Exten. of pred.
Predicate of sentence.
Object to 0.
Prep, phrase— attrib. to 7.

Partic. phrase— attrib. to 1 .

Prep 9.

10.

Pred. cf sentence.
Exten. of Pred. 12.

Practical Grammar. Under this head, we embrace the correct use
of language, whether spoken or written. The former is comparatively
a new department, but, in our view, of the greatest importance, The

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kfl

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latter usually falls under the head of composition. To each of these
we would briefly solicit att'Mition. As to the first of these points,
correctly spoken language, every one must perceive the value of tlic
attainment, To be able to express ourselves with fluency and accuracy,
in common conversation, is of immense consequence, and no one has
any title to consider himself a scholar, or educated, who cannot do so.
But it is still more necessary, and indicative of proper scholarship,
when an individual can, at once, in the rehearsal of any event, or, in
the discussion of any topic, express himself in correct, perspicuous,
grammatical language, and that without any uneasiness, or, in the
least degree, disconcerting him, in the following out of his train of
observation. IIow often is a juvenile speaker disturbed and distracted
between his language and his ideas. In the course of his discussion
of any topic, he makes a glaring mistake in grammar, lie observes
it, but ic would only aggravate the case to i eturn and make the cor-
rection. He proceeds, but he is so annoyed and chagrined with him-
self, that not unfrequently a mental fluttering ensues, which threatens
well-nigh to throw him off his guard, or, at all events, to place him In
such an awkward predicament, that, for a time, he loses liis equipolso,
and neither does justice to himself nor his subject. v ' "

Surely it must be an acquisition of no ordinary value to be abore
and beyond such disturbing circimstances ; to be able to dedicate all
his energies to the subject matter of reflection, and to give "ixpresslon
to his thoughts, if not with elegance, at least, with grammatical cor-
rectness. But this is a state of things, only to be acquired by a long
course of experience. And it is here the instrumentality of the
teacher comes into play. Every exercise gone through, ought to
be an exercise in practical grammar. It matters not whether it be a
more formal recitation or a casual occurrence, the teacher, from the
day the pupil goes to school, ought to feel himself called upon to cor-
rect a mistake, or, when an inelegant expression is employed, to point
out its clumsiness or inaccuracy. All this, of course, will demand the
utmost care on the part of the teacher himself, not on more formal occa-
sions merely, but in all his intercourse with his scholars. lie should
never forget that he is not only a director but an exemplar, that his
pupils are far more likely to copy his example than to carry out
his instructions. But it is needful that there be stated work, by which
the pupils may, from experience, acquire the habit of expressing them-
selves with grammatical accuracy. And there is, perhaps, no exercise
better fitted for this purpose than to accustom them, from the very
commencement of their educational career, to tell their own stories, to

--T-,,

above
\te all
ession
il cor-
loug
if the
;hi to
.t be a
\va. the
cor-
point
id the
occa-
ihould
lat his

;y out
which
them-
lercise
very
•ies, to

ART OF KDUCATIOK.

885

give a inva voce rehearsal of tluj lessun they have finished in the Himpe
of an ahstnot or abri<lgnient, aiul otherwise to encourage them in tho
answers they give to all tho cuteehetical (juestions, that these answers
be not only materially but formally correct, ex[»ress(!d with elegance
and force. By these and similar means, the art of speaking gram-
matically will, in course of time, bo acquired. And who can estinmto
tho boon to the possessor ? An occasional oral lesson will also largely
tend to the furtherance of the same object.

But we may say a word or two about written language or composi-
t'^n. This is of e(pial, if not greater importance than the preceding.
It 1,'ives to the acts of the human mind a perpetuity of existence. The
most polished and eloquent human orations, when delivered at the
spur of the moment, soon pass into oblivion, however much they
thrilled, and fascinated, and enrapt the listeners. But it is otherwise
with those thoughts and sentiments that are writ en or printed.
These can be handed down to the latest posterity, and form part of
the stock of the ever accumulating product of ages, as well as extended
to the utmost ends of the jarth. Thus, by the invention of printing,
are space and time, as it were, annihilated, and the mind of one age
or generation made to jostle with the mind of the succeeding, and
thereby stimulated to unceasing progression. How often have the
finest aiul loftiest thoughts, the creations of human genius and tho
products of the most towering imagination been lost, save to a few,
lost to the world at large, in consequence of their never having been
committed to writing or printing! But we pursue not this theme ; it
is more to our purpose, that we inquire into the nature of written
conposition, or what should be our aim and object in training the
you'ig to the acquisition of this power, to the attainment of this art.
This Is an important point. j!.Iany seem to imagine that the power
and skill of composition mainly consist in a knowledge of certain
vocables or sentences. This is a great misapprehension. It is no
doubt true, that a certain amount of this knowledge, at well as some
acf|Uf»jntance with the structure of language and of sentences, is of vast
value in this process, is of great assistance to our composing power ;
but this V' jwledge will never operate upon mind in such a way, as to
call forth commanding tho .t or high-toned manly sentiment. The
grand aim of the teacher in this department ought to be, to awaken
mind to lively and energetic action, to evoke that action in the most
befitting expressions, to allow every mind to speak for itself, to elicit
every phase of idiosyncrasy. There ari not two minds of any force
cast exactly in the same mould. The difference is sometimes very
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886

TEACHER S TKXT-nOOK.

f ■ ■

1 -

1 •

till

1
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Htkmm^^

marki!(l,,just as much as in the pliysical features, and at other times it
is less perceptible. And, seeing that the Almighty Creator has im-
parted this variety of endowment, surely it should he our aim and
object to exhibit evciry such trait of His handiwork. And this is done
by the kind of written composition of which we are now speaking.
As languagi! is hut the embodiment of thought, we are then but doing
justice to the mind itself, we are but striving to make others partakers
of tlie diversity of its operations, we are but eliciting the perfections of
the unseen Creator. And what steps should be taken by the teacher for
the accomplishment of all this? 1st. lie should endeavour to show
his pupils the necessity of a thorough understanding of any sul)j(,ct
before they commit a word to writing. The pupils should be directed
to cogitate the subject in all its bearing with deep aiul earnest atten-
tion, to jot down the views, findings or conclusions of their mind
regarding any one aspect, to discontinue their ruminations for a hiicf
season, and afterwards to recur to it wltli fresh vigour ; and all this
before they evtui consult the most distinguished authors. This will
enable them really to profit by what others may have written or spoken
regarding it. And it will especially enable them to maintain their
own views and modes of thinking, and style of expression, whatever
modifications these may undergo by being brought into contact with
other minds, &c. Every one in short should be taught to rely upon
and to exhaust his own resources, and then, and only then, to resort
to foreign succour. But along with all this self-dependence, the young
should be well indoctrinated respecting the great leading principles or
laws of language, with cardinal or fundamental rules. And this should
not he done by hap-hazard strokes, but calmly, and deliberately, and
consecutively, and through the medium of the best cc" imon sense text-
books, of which there is no deficiency either in point of number or of
mode of execution. In th(! legitimate use of these works, however,
much caution is needed, and here come in the skill and experience of
the teaclier. A careful selection of certain leading rules, as embody-
ing great and important principles, should he made, and these should
be thoroughly engraven niion the minds of the young before proceed-
ing to matters of detail. It might be well, too, that these exercises
are accompanied with analytic criticisms. A standard author should
be taken up and examined, not so much in reference to the subject-
matter as to the general style, both grammatical and rhetorical. Ilalf-
an-hour's criticism, twice or thrice a week, will prove of more lasting
benefit than the study of any synthetical books with the most precise
rules and the most copious, apt exemplifications. But this is not

W^ff

ATlT OT EDIUCATTON.

3ft7

■CMoiigli. Greiit l)cnefit will he obtained by the young associating with
•others more advanced than themselves, not only in imbuing their
minds with their views and principles, bnt still more with their whole
manner ami styk of acting. "As iron sharpenetli iron ho doth the
face of a mati, his friend." And this is equally the case, though in an
inferior degree, by bringing the mind in contact with others through
the perusal of their written works. Standard works, and none but
such, should be read on the great snbjexits that go to make up a liberal
education. These, especially if they present exemi)liHcations of high
genius, or magnanimous svchievements, or philanthropic patriotism, or
noble intr(;pid daring for tlie maintenance of a principle or truth, will
not only inspire with corresponding emotions, but operate most pow
erhilly in inducing them to imitate their very style, their very modes
of expression. T<!a<!hers should use every effort, not ordy to recom-
mend such cmploynu^nt, to rouse into energy an enthusiastic love for
knowledge, but should strive to put such books within their reach, and
give suitable directions and encouragement for their jMirusal.

Logic and lifietort'c. This is a still higher de[>artment ; and may
be considered as the extension of thought, on the one hand, and the
■ciiibellishment of language, on the other. The former has respect to
the consecutiveni'ss and cohesiveness of tlie ideas, and the latt<3r to the
heiuity and adornment of the words.

Logic is the science and art of reasoning. As a science it investi-
gates the princi[)les on which argumentation is conducted. As an ait
it furnishes such rules as may be derived from those pnnciples intended
to guard against erroneous deductions. The skilful teacher shoidd
know s'jmcthing both of the science and art of logic, l>e able to point
out the qualities of good reasoning on tlu; one hand, and of flaws or
imperfcciions on the other, liy this means he might teach all that is
valuable in Logic, without referring to the technicalities or rules of
the thing itself, and thereby obtain all the practical good that may
result, ev€n from a systematic study of the same.

Jihetoric. Tliis, as already hinted, boars the same relation to lan-
guage that logic does to thought. In its widest acceptation, it seems
to take cognizance of everything api>ertaining to lairgimge in prose
composition. When reduced to a system it may be regarded as a body
of rules, derived from experience and observation, extending to all
communications by language, and designed to make it efficient. It
sits as umpire and decides upon the appropriat(uiess of the use of
words, and especially of synonymous words. It judges whether the
style is adapted to the nature of the thoughts comnmnicated. It takes

(

• i

•1.

■5

S8'8

TEACHER S TEXT-BOOK.

J-Jl

■?*

special cognizance of the various figures of s[>eecli, whether they arr?
well chosen for the occasion, &c.

Now the skilful teacher ought to be well acquainted with all the
rules upon which these and similar niceties depend, and able to direct
the attention of his pupils to the subject, without even once mention-
ing the name of Rhetoric. At a very early period in the history of
the education of the young, may he commence to unfold to them the
strncture, and the use, and the history of words with their finer shades
of difference from other words, to wliich they bear the closest general
resemblance. And where can there be a finer field for observation
than is presented in the whole subject of figurative langiuige; and the
young are perfectly competent to appreciate that language when the
power or faculty of comparison begins to develop itself. In no depart-
ment will they listen with more attentive ears, if the subjects are at
all judiciously chosen; and the reason of this is olivious. These
comparisons appeal to their senses, or they are borrowed from objects
or things with which they are familiar, or else they fail, and fail
egregiously, in accomplishing the end in view. In explaining these
figures minutely and elaborately, the children are on the known terri-
tory, and are anxious to hear explanations, or have new points on the
subject imfolded. And this but prepares them for making the neat
application to the subject in hand, and th ireby seeing it with their
mind's eye as distinctly as any object in the external world with the
naked eye. Even in reading, they can direct attention, at a very early
period, to tbe rheto ■ 1 arrangement of the words, so as to give effect
to the meaning, force or power to the expression^ The teacher can
do the same thing in reference to what are called rhetorical pauses.
Those pauses give the highest possible colouring to the import of the
passage, gi'ouping those words together that have a closer affinity to
one another, and pausing accordingly. And this can be done at an
early period. Tlius it is evident that the most important lessons may
be given, involving rhetorical points, at a very early perio<l, in the
education of the rising generation, and that without the least allusion
to rhetoric as a science. All this implies a thorough acquaintance
with the subject on the part of the teacher, both systematical and
experimental.

Classics. It 1ms been maintained by some that if the dead langnages,
•^as the Latin and Greek, — are to be accpnred, the learning of the
grammar of our own language is useless. It has been alleged by such
that as the Latin granmiar, for example, is for more complete, and
copious, aud elaborate than the English, and that as the latter is, to a

ww^

ART OF EDUCATION.

889

certain extent, founded on the former, it is a waste of time to acquire it.
With this opinion we do not at all sympathize. It is no doubt true
that the grammars of the Greek and Latin languages are more full
and copious than the grammrir of the English, but it is a mistake to
suppose that it is founded upon either the one or the other of these, or
that they have any more conneftion therewith, than what springs from
general coincident principles. The real question at issue, common
to all languages, and by consequence to all grammars, is, which
is the more easily acquired, so that the one shall form a kind of
basis or platform for the acciuisition of the other. And surely there
can lie no difficulty in answering this question. The grammar of
our own tongue will be admitted by all to be much more easily
acquired thrfn that of a foreign one, whether dead or living, and if so,
the inference is plain. All, whether they intend to pass through a
liberal education or not, should first master the grammar of their own
vernacular, and with that, as a ladder, they shall, with a great deal
more ease, mount into the acquisition of any other. If we have been
properly taught, not only are our minds well disciplined, but we have
been made acquainted with the great general principles or laws of
gramraar, which are just the great principles or laws of the human
mind, and which must, therefore, be found in the grammar of every
language, whether ancient or modern. In passing from tlie known to
the unknown, all that we have to do is to discover the sj^ecialities of
the hitter, and this can easily be done by comparing the one with the
other. On the supposition, then, that we thoroughly understand the
grammar of the English language, and that we are about to proceed
to the study of the Greek or Latin, say the latter, all we have to do,
is to bring the one into juxta-position with the other, and proceed to
find out wherein they are alike and wherein they differ. This is a
profitable exercise, and cannot fail to awaken a deep intierest in the
minds of the young.

It is in the matter of inflection where the grand distinction consists.
Here we possess on tlie part of the dead language not only greater
copiousness, but a different kind of inflection. In the Latin, the inflec-
tions are out and out terminational ; in the English, they undergo little
or no change, there being only terminational differences in a few
instances. There are not less than six cases in the Latin noun ; in
English there are only three. The inflection of the verb is much more
complete in the dead languages, in so far, at least, as their own com-
position is concerned.

In syntax, we find between these languages, ancient and mooern,

f
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390

teacher's text-book.

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mil '■■^ ;i •{

the same fundamental relations. That between the' predicate nwl
object is much moi-e copious in the Latin than in Englisli, arising very
naturally from the greater number of cases, giving birth in conseciuence'
to a larger number of rules in the matter of government. This is
manifest when we look at the cases govefned by verbs and prepositions,.

In prosoc • , too, there is as gi'eat a difference as in every other
department. Though the ends in both may be the same, — the produc-
tion of rhythm and metre, yet the princij)les that guide thereto ar&
widiely ap^irt. lu the English it depends upon accentuation and
time. In the Latin these have nothing to do with it. The wliole
matter of versification is made to turn on the (juantity of the syllables,
and these are all fixed and arranged by principles and laws from which
there is little or no departure. We have briefiy compared the two
grammars, and, in general terms, traced their similarities^ and differences.
B)' the application of our fixed principle, viz., proceeding from the
known to the unknown, we have discovered what in the foreign lan-
guage is really necessary to be learned, and, sonsequontly, in the most
favourable position both for picturing out and for outlining. No new
technical term should be used without its first being presented to the
mind's eye of the learner by some apt pictorial ilUiBtration. And all
should be carried on by outlines. Whatever is thoroughly mandated,
should be at once practically applied by every variety of examples,
both written and spoken. The time Spent, and the pdns taken in
these initiatory steps, will largely facilitate and exped*;e future progress.

In reducing to working order these general remarks, every Latin
or foreign grammar should be divided at least into three sections
or divisions. The first section should consist entirely of what is
indispensably necessary to be committed to memory, with a large list
of examples, on which the pupils must be well drilled. The second
should present the leading exceptions, somje of which might also he
advantag3ously mandated ; and the third, the peculiarities and niceties,
or idioms of the language, with abundance of exani[)les under both.
This, in our opinion, would form a much tter arrangement than
having all blended and intermingled together, some with larger or
smaller type, drawing the distinction between what is more or less
important. Where grammars are not arranged cither in one way or
other, it would be no difficult task for the skilful teacher to constrnct
a grammar for himself, to divide it into three grades or stages, and to
see that his pupils have thoroughly mastered the one before they break
ground on the other. We give a sample of the method that shoulol
be pursued with first stage, by far the most inxportant..

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ART OF EDUCATION.

391

Starting with the etymological departnujiit, we take the noun first.
The pupils are supposed to be thoroughly lamiliar with every thing
connected with the noiui iii general, its nature, number, gender, case, &c.
Tlie two grand peculiarities of nouns in the Latin language are their
classification in declensions, and the mimber of cases. Here the word
declension should be pictured out, showing from its derivation, that it
means a downward slope or bending from the nominative throughout,
the oblique cases being all indicated by certain terminations. These
declensions are five in number, generally considered, though they might
be easily reduced to three, distinguished from one another by the termi-
nation of the genitive case. The first has « diphthong, the secoiid t,
the third is, the fourth us, and the fifth eJ. These have certain ter-
minations in the nominative, which go far to determine the gendoi'.
The cases in the singular and plural are the nominative, genitive,
dative, accusative, vocative and ablative, which, before they are used,
should be all illustrated. An example of the first declension may here
be given, such as peniia, along with two others, such as area and toga,
to shew the difference between the hard and soft sound of c and g.
These examples must be thoroughly conniiitt(!d to memory, and recited
over and over, backward and forward, reiterated again and again, until
they are fairly incorporated into the mental framework of the scholars.
At the end of these examples, there should be given a list of the more
conunou nouns of this declension, which also should be carefully man-
dated. Underneath there should be siven a number of short Latin
sentences to l>e translated into English, and thereafter a number of
short English sentences to be translated into Latin, with a few common
verbs supplied. The same ordeal should l)e gone through with every
declension, and before any new lesson is taken up the whole of these
exercises should be repeated again and again. The adjectives should
be got next, those of the first and second declension immediately after
the second declension of nouns, and those of the third in all their
forms after the third declension of nouns.

After the nouns and adjectives, should come the pronouns, as these
are used in connection with the verb, and then the verb esse. The
verbs, in all their completeness, should now be discussed ; and here
the first thing is to compare the nature and form of the English with
those of the Latin verb. As to the former there is evidently no differ-
ence. The verbs perform the very same functions in the Latin as in
the English, expressing either a state of being, or doing, or suffering.
There is a radical difference, however, in reference to the latter. All
the changes of voice, mood and tense are terminational, whereas la

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English, they are efTected through tlie medium of what are called
auxiliary verbs. Properly sp-^aking, there are only three principal
parts in the English verbs, the present, the past, and the past participle,
all the rest are supplied by what are called auxiliaries, by whose help
every mood and tense either in Greek or Latin can be made up. It
cannot, therefore, be said that the English verb, as compared with the
Latin verb, is defective. We have, indeed, what are called supines and
gerunds in Latin without any corresi)onding parts in P^nglish, but
these can be easily expressed by other parts of speech ; on the other
hand, we have defects in the Latin that are not even found in the
English, such, for example, as the perfect particijile active, and the
present participle passive. It is, therefore, nothing short of a libel
upon the English language, advanced by some, that it is exceedingly
defective. Every thing connected, both with acting and suffering,
with the mode or mood of the action, with time or persons, can be all
as fully expressed in English as in Latin, though in a different form.
Having tluis compared the English and the Latin verb, we are now
prepared to take up the latter, and to examine it in its various fornif?,
and inflections, and details ; picturing out the difference between the
term conjugation and declension, dwelling upon the completeness, and
copiousness, and exactitude of the Latin with its four conjugations and
their appropriate characterlsvlcs ; then the four principal parts in their
regular and irregular forms, with all the parts depending upon and
flowing therefrom. These conjugations, in all their parts and forms,
regular and irregular, must be thoroughly committed to memory, every
one having its appropriate examples, and then the whole scattered
promiscuously. The verb, with adverb and the indeclinable parts of
speech, will wind up the etymological department.

On introducing the subject of Latin syntax, the first thing here is
to give a list of examples, all intended to illustrate the fundamental
relations — the attribixtive, the predicative and the objective, requiring
the pujills, after the sentences iire read and mastered, to construct the
rules themselves. These examples will familiarize both with the
vocables, and structure, and arrangement of sentences, and serve to
pave the way for translation work. It may be well here, too- to direct
attention to the outlines of Latin prosody, the leading forms of versifi-
cation with examples and rules. We have now discussed the first two
stages in the grannnar of any foreign language, and especially of the
Latin. After comparing the known an(l the unknown, we are pre-
pared to proceed to the purely momoriter or second stage, introducing
every new topic by a familiar illustration, and reducing everything at

ART OF EDUCATION.

393

once to practice ; in one word, using every means to carry the reflec-
tive powers of the scholars along with us. The third stage embraces
the second division, or the exceptional part of the grammar, some of
which may recpiire to be committed to memory, and others not — the
teacher can himself easily determine. Along with this, is the perusal
of a Delectus, or a book of extracts, from the easiest and best Latin
authors. This will serve for drilling both in etymological and syn-
tactical departments, and bring out, especially, the difference of idiom
in the structure of the languages, the known and the unknown. This
will appear in the translation from the Latin into English, and no
exeninlification of any peculiarity should be passed over without the
most sifting examination. To impress the minds of learners still more
deeply, they should be recpiired not only to write their translations
into English from the text-book, but the text-books being taken from
them, to reverse the order, and to render it from English into Latin.
This, in our opinion, is a better plan at the commencement than
Arnold's constructive exercises.

The more mechanical part of the language is now" over, and this,
if the plan sketched is pursued, ought to be in two years or less.
This is a long period, but it is more than compensated by the
accumulation of their knowledge, and the extent of their grammatical
attainments. The pupils are now prepared to take the regular classical
text-books into their hands, which books, with the assistance of their
dictionaries alone, and after such a course of preparation, they should
be able to read with considerable fluency. Much injury is done to not
a few, by commencing to translate too soon, i. e., the regular Latin
authors, before they are well acquainted with the first principles or
elements of the language. Pursuing the course we have specified,
they will be able to read the classical authors almost at the starting
with another relish altogether. Instead of spending wearisome weeks
or months over a few chapters of Ciiisar, they will master the whole in
the course of a few weeks ; and that, , instead of proving an irksome
toil and drudgery, will be a real pleasure and satisfaction. Here
the third part of grammar may be gone over. It is scarcely necessary
to say more, save that in the reading of the standard works in the
Latin language, the usual rule should be observed of proceeding from
the simple to the more complex. The usual order of the classics is
the following : Esop's Fables Cordery, Eutropius Cornelius, Nepos,
Ciesar and Ovid, Sallust and Virgil, Livy and Horace, Tacitus,
Quinctilian, Cicero and Juvenal. In recitation exercises the following
course is usually followed : — L Read the Latin as in text-book, and

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be very ptirticular alxnit the (luantity, whether read after the Eng-
lish or Continental fashion. 2. Construe the passage or arrange
the words in syntactical order. 3. Give the translation, and from
the very coinnaencement let there be an adaptation to the Eng-
lish idioms. 4. Examine carefully any peculiarity in the construction,
and apply rules of syntax to (ivery relation. .5. Parse every word for
a considerable period, ami thereafter the more dilficult words.

The mere translation into English ouijht not to sulRce. There
should be also the constant practice ke[)t up of rendering from Eng-
lish into Latin. Exercises should be given, at least, once a week, and
these should be consecutively arranged so as to bring out the various
niceties and peculiarities. In addition to all this, the conversational
method, even in reference to the dead languages, may be followed to
a certain extent, and with great effect. The finer passages in Latin,
as the student advances, should always be committed, so that, without
any pedantry, on befitting occasions, the same might be cited.

Such is a brief outline of the mode in which any foreign language
may be taught in accordance with the training system. The sketcli,
we think, will be found to contain all the leading features of that
system : such as, proceeding from the known to the unknown, from
the simple to the more difficult, teaching by outlines, accompanying
the theoretical with the practical, t&c. No one, we t'.iink, at all versaut
with the languages, can fail to perceive that, with a grammar con-
structed in accordance with this system, and judiciously taught, an
immense simplification would be effected on the whole acquisition of
language ; that along, with greater efficiency, an immense saving both
of time and labour would also follow.

Arithmetic. Most children at an early period have some idea of
number. Scarcely have they begun to exercise their observational
pow^ers than they seem to be able, in comparing the objects around
them, to mark those that are the same or identical, and thus they
obtain their idea ot number. They see two objects pretty much alike ;
they examine them more minutely, and are persuaded that they
exactly resemble one anotlier ; and the one thus becomes two, unity
is changed into duality. It is well, however, to notice here that this
knowledge is one of realities or things, and is uniformly associated
with the object or objects, is concrete. And, hence, the absurdity of
the way in which the young are usually introduced to the study of
arithmetic, plunged all at once into the mysteries of abstract figures,
without the least effort to lead them on from the concrete to the
abstract, or to attempt to bridge over the gulf that separates them, or

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the space that lies between. Unless they ha{)pen to be gifted with a
peculiar aptitudi! for the study of mathematics, they are dooine(l to
wander for months and years in n region of abstract signs, which they
neither comprehend nor care about, utterly useless to them in a prac-
ticiil point of view, and which, instead of disciplining mind, but tend
to throw Iwirriers and ini[K',diments in the way.

What then is to be done ? If the young have no idea of number in
the abstract, if they do not understand the meaning of 5, or 7, or 9,
whilst they clearly perceive that of /) a[)ples, or 7 marbles, or 9 horses,
the nvithod of teaching arithmetic is [)lain and palpable, even through
the medium of objects, and having, by means thereof, rendered them
familiar with the great principles involved, gradually, and step by
step, pass into the region of the abstract. Let this plan be pursued,
and it does not matter how soon the young begin arithmetic. Some,
on entering school, are better prepared for this work than for learning
to read. This, however, must be carried on entirely by visible objects.
It matters little what these objects are, pro^'ided the children can
count them. The systematic way of carrying on this department ia
through the medium of a ball-frame — a frame of pretty inuch the same
size as a large slate, with ten or twelve wires, and on each of these
wires ten or twelve balls, painted with three or four different colours.
By the help of this frame, the principles and practice of the funda-
mental rules can be explained and taught, and this can be diversified
in a great variety of ways, by objects in school-room, by counting the
children, &c. As soon as the children are sufHciently advanced to
apply number to money, or weights and measures, it will be necessary
that the teacher provide himself with a set of the common coins of the
country as well as with the various weights, and scales, and measures.
By these means the whole of the tables can be taught, and that in a
way calculated to produce a more lasting impression than all verbal
dissertations, or the most careful mandating. After being two years
or so at mental arithmetic, carried on through visible objects, the chil-
dren are now prepared to pass into slate arithmetic, or arithmetic
abstractly regarded. This, of course, will require to be done, gradu-
ally. After the real objects come the symbols, or representatives of
the objects with which the pupils are familiar, but absent, and lastly,
the figures, the purely abstract. Not that we are to abandon the
objective on the introduction of the abstractive. The mental and
objective are to be carried on simultaneously with the abstract — the
one to be the exponent of the other. The principles involved in every
kauch, as well as the rules by which it is to be worked, ought to be

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studied out and practised by the pupils themselves before they attempt
the abstraet at all, that is, they are to be done first by word-i)aintin(T,
and then by examples carefully analysed. TIk; principle being thus
thoroughly understood, as well as tl»o rules of working it out or reduc-
ing it to practice, the pupils are now ready to take up the slate and
do the various examples usually found in arithmetical books. Hence,
this branch of knowledge is naturally divided into two departments,
arithmoticr concrete and arithmetic abstract, and to each of these we
shall now direct attention.

Arithmetii- Coiirretr. Here, as in every other department, the
young must be carried on from the known to the unknown. The
teacher, when about to introduce any new subject to his pupils, ought
to find out what about that subject, what connected with it, or what
cognate subject, they are already acquainted with, and to constitute
that the basis of his instruction, and of all future progress. Now, in
so far as arithmetic is concerned, there is scarcely a child of five or
six years of age, who cannot count as high as fifteen or twenty, and
this plainly should form the first lesson in arithmetic. The children
should be required to gather up ten or fifteen little stones from
amongst the gravel before the school-house, or if there is a box of
slate or lead pencils on the desk, to proceed to count tliese ; and after
they have finished this task to count the balls on the frame. After
ihey have been well exercised in counting, the teacher should proceed
a step farther, and show that two are just two ones, and three, three
ones of the same sort only. To do this more clearly, two distinct objects
should be taken and counted alternately ; such as slates and books,
boys and girls ; and when ten is reached, the children should be asked
whether there are really ten slates or ten books. This will lead the
pupils to think, and to see that though there are ten things or objects,
there are only five slates and five pencils ; and that though there are
ten cliildren or scholars, there are only five boys and five girls ; and
therefore, that in adding one unic to another, every succeeding one
must be of the same nature. The next lesson in enumeration should
be to conduct the children from ten to twenty, in which it should he
shown that eleven are just ten and one, that twelve are ten and two,
thirteen are ten and three, and so onwards, dwelling especially, on
the fact that a new name is given at the end of every ten, that every
tenth figure is of a higher order, a unit, a big unit. Another form of
the same exercise is counting backwards, first from ten and then from
twenty. Every lesson, if possible, should be varied so as to impress
the minds of the youn with the idea that 20 are just twenty ones, and

ART OF EDUCATION.

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100, a Iiuiulred ones. The longer these simple forms are dwelt upon,
we are only weaving more thoroughly into the minds of the young,
that which lies at the foundation of the science of numbers.

Si/inbols. Here a short oral lesson should be given on the signs or
syniliols used in arithmetic. Take a sign-board, such as the cliildren
may have often seen ; say, the sign-board over a shoemaker's door,
witii a boot or shoe painted upon it. From this, picture out in words
the difierence between the sign and the thing signified. Another
illustration may be taken from letters being the signs of sounds, and
words of ideas. And so in figures. Wo have here also certain signs
or symbols, expressive of a certain number of units. It would be
exceedingly cumbersome, if not inipracticable, to write down three
ones or six ones, in the shajjo of dots or strokes, if we wished to con-
vey the idea of three or six ; and, therefore, to simplify matters,
symbols are employed. Here the teacher may write on the black-
board a aeries of ones, and put their corresponding figure underneath :

1 2 3 4 5 G 7 8 9 10

Tliese characters, nine of which are significant, and the cipher are
sometimes called digits, from the word that signifies fingers.

FUNDAMEN'TAL RULE'-.

Addition. Here, by an oral lesson, the teaclier nuist picture out the idea
that the quantity of anything can either be made larger or smaller, added to
or t;ikeii from, increased or diminished. For cxam])le, ask the schola'-s of
this class to hold up their left hand, find then ask : — How many fingers liave
you ii])()n it? Fine., they will, with one voice, reply. Thou tell them to liold
im tlu'ir ri(;;ht liand, and ask : — How many fingers or dif^its have you upon it ?
Tilt' same answer will be given. Tell them to put all the fingei-s of both
hands to<fetlier, and fisk : — How many have yon now ? Ten, will l)e tlie
immediate reply. Now wliat is this ? It i.i adding. You have five fingers
on one liand, and five on the other, and by putting them l)oth together, you
have — Ten ; this is called the sum, find the act of bringing them together into
one is called — addition. Does any of you know the symbol used to represent
addition ? No reply. Would you like to know it '? Yes. It is this -(- ;
and the name given to it is plus. Can you point out the sifjn or symbol
placed between numbei's to show that they are equal ? No. Well, then, I
will sliow you. It is =, 1 1 1 1 1 -f- ' 1 1 1 1 = 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ; that is, five plus five has
for its sum ten, or is equal to ten, and hence it is sometimes called the sign of
equality. Then give a great number of exercises on the black-board, such
as the following : —

11 + 111 = 11111; l: + llll = llllll; III -Mill = lllli!l.&e.

After picturing out the thir^ itself, the children should be now formally
tauirht the art of addirg. The various objects in the school-room may be
first taken up ; such as tlie panes of glass in window, the desks, chairs, boys
and }rii-ls — adding together first the ones, then the twos, and then the threes.
The ball-frame should now be called into requisition, and systematically pro-

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rc(Mlt>(l with. A ^^Tciit variety of f()i'ms may Ik* cmitloyt'il, h(';^lnnlnji wilh flm
simple and f^oinj; (in to tlie more diiricult. We may (irst talie the mimliei'sm
they oeciir ami add thtMU to tlie previous sum, iis tlie ones — twos — tlirees —
iburs — I and 1 are 2, and 1 are ',), and 1 are 4 — 2 and 2 art^ I, and 2 are (!,
and 2 are H. Or we may take tlie di^^its in a more Mystematic ii»rni and add
them consiumtively t(»jjethei' ; ;us 2 and 2 are 4, 2 and .'5 are !'), 2 and I arc G, &c.
And afh'r we have familiarized tlie pupils with these two forms, we may then
take a more misci'll;iiie<Mis method, 'lake any mnnher of halls, and ask Imw
many there are. Then divide the 7 into '.i and 4, ami ask how many in each
h)t, and what thesi; make when Hd<lcd ; and what other divisions will, when
added, make up the, same numher, &c;. Layini^ anide the hall-frame or present
objects, the next staj;e should he tht^ ailditioii of thin^js or articles which an;
absent, hut with which thi^y are |K'rfcctly familiar. I'ake the followiu;^ as a
sample: — (1) William h;us six marbles in one pocket and iiiur in another;
how many hits he altoiretherV (2) There are seven jfirls in a class; if three
more be added ; how many will there then be? (.'{) Henry };ot ninepeiico,
then fivepence and a penny ; how much money had he V (4) A man took
three, hoi-ses to be shod; one had to j^et all his twt shod; another ha<l to j^et
three, and the Lust had only to ^et (me ; how many shoos would the black-
smith recj ,ire to furnish V (.')) How many feet have a horse, a cow, a sheep,
a <^oos(% and a hen ?

Suhtracdon. Explain the term by a short oral lesson ; and this may l)c
<]one by reversin;^ the one oti addition, and askin;^ the children of the chuss to
hold uf) both their hands. How many (infers have you on both? Ten,
Take one hand down, and how many finjrers do you hold up? Fii)e. Well,
then, do you now see that you can do somethin}» else besides addin;i; to any
quantity? Yes, we can tiikc from it. Do any of you know what that h
vailed ? No. It is called subtraction, and the symbol that represents it is a
8trai;fht or horizontal line — whu-h is called minus, (live a Ibw more exam-
ples of the same description. There are how many in your class? Nine,
Take away John, and James, and Jane, and how many remain? Six,kv.
litre are six books, supjiose I subtract tlirec! from them, how many remain?
Three. Those can ea.sily be addtul to. Then take the ball-frame and ii;o more
systematically into the exi'rcisc. Begin with the fii'st wire (jf balls, and take
one from ten, and how many remain, two from ten, and how many, tliroe
from ten, and how many. Thei\ take the opposite eoui-so, and take nine fmin
ten, eii;ht from ten, seven from ten, &c. Tlien take a series of examples vitli
the ol))ects absent, (1) John has sixpence in his pocket, and he gives Thoniiu^
threepence fl)r a knife, how much has John lefl? (2) A window has twelve
panes of glass, five of them are broken, how many are entire? (3) A dozen
birds sat on a tree, seven llew away, how many remained ? (4) In two weeks
a tradesman lost four days work through ill health, what number of days did
he Avork ? (5) A boy in a hay field worked ten hours a day, how many in
the twenty-four hours did he not work ? These may be succeeded by exercises
in what may be styled double subtraction. Thus, John had six marbles, and
lie gave two to James and three to Rol)ert, how many had he letl ? A butcher
had twelve sheep; he killed three and lost four, how many had he letl?
Then may addition and subtraction be joined. Thus, John had six marbles;
be won fi-oni Thomas five, and from William two ; and afterwards lost three
the first game, and five, second ; how many had he then ? In this way nr
abundance of exercises may be constructed. It may be Avell, however, that
the teacher note down every evening some new form of exercises for every
day, that the calculations may go on steadily and progressively.

Multiplication. Give a short oral lesson on explanation of term. Ask the
children, for example, how many rows of panes there are in one of the win-
dows of the school-room ? They all cry four. How many panes arc there in

ART OF EDUCATION.

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each row ? Thret. And how do you find the whole niunher V Tlif ( liil-
(hrn lookin;; at the window lic}riii at once and co'iiit, ow. and one arc two,
null one. is three, and so on till they make twelve. The teaeher a;;ain a^ks
(•i)iil<l not you shorten this V At onee they say, three and three are six, and
three are nine, and three are tirelre. Is there not a shorter wav still ? Ves.
And they say four times three are tivelee. And what is the lesson we arc
taiif^ht by all this? That whenever a (luantity exactly conta''is a certain
niimlu'r several times, it can Ik; done in a slnirt or ahridi^ed form. Twelve
coatains three exactly tour times. Twelve is in this case a riiitlli/i/e of three;
that is, it contains three hiiu' times, and the act of doinfj; it is calicfl multipli-
cation. Miiltiplicatiou is, therefiire, nothiujx Imt a short, or an abridged, or a
('(intracted wav of aildition. The si;jn of nuiltiplic;ition is X- ^ nuuil)er of
similar examples hy visiitle ()])jects, such as slate ;i'ucils, &c., should herti he
jrivcn. Then with hall-frame or lines on hlnck-hoard tiie multipli<'ation table
should be formally tauj^ht. The ones should be fu>t taken i:j) in succession,
and the pupils tauj^ht to repeat after the teacher, two ones are two, three ones
arc tliree, or thi'ce times one are three. 'I'lien the second line in nudti|)IIea-
tioii talilc, placing the twos on tla^ dillerc ^ wires, and causing; the chihlren to
rcpi'at after teaclu-r, two ones are two, or two times one are two, two twos are
four, or two tiuies two are four, three twos are six, or three tinu's two an; si.x.
Then take thrt'c, puttiii}; the three balls to^rether, two threes are six, or two
times three are six, three threes are nine, or three tinu's three are niue. And
so on throuj;;hout the whole decinud or duodecimal undtiplication table. In
constMjuence of the ^^eueral way in which the nuiltiplication tables are now
rinted, we mean, iliiodeeimally, it nuiy be well to have three ball-ihuues at
civst, one with ten balls on each wire, another with twelve, and another witli
twenty, so that the decimal, the duodecimal and vij^i'siuial, or tiie pytha^forean
tables may be got acoordin;:; to the staj^e of the pupils.

Here tin; teacher nuiy yive a nundjci- of examples of objects, thoujih absent,
yet with which the children are fuuiliar. How many feet have 2, or ■'!, or 4
sheep V II(va many le<fs have G, or 7, or 8 cows V How numy units are
there in 3 tens y Hoiight 3 cfjifs at 2 pence each, how nuich shouM I ])ay V
AVluit should you j)ay the milkman fen' -1 ])iuts of milk, at 2 pence a pint ?
Find the cost of 4 heaves at .'> pence t'ach. If a man travels .3 milea in 1 hour,
how (ar will he travel from (J o'ch)ck in the morning till noon ?

Wiien the ela-ss is a little farther advanceil, it may be well to picture out
the terms Product and Factors. Take objects first. You cause two chihlren
to hold up tlu'ir hands, and you ask how many fingei-s on each hand. They
say fii;e. Tell them to add four fives and you have twenty. Then cause
them to nudtiply one of the fives by four, and ask what is produced. They
say twenlij, that is produced, or that is the product of 5 nndtiplied by 4,
iuid this, therefi)re, is called tlu' product. And how is that produced ? ]iy
tiic two agents, the four operating on the five. And what is an agent V It
is a pei-son that does a thino;, or doer. There is a word derived from the
Latin that does the same tlung, and that is factor. These, then, are called
factors, and the result of their operation jiroduet. This may then be perform-
ed hy drawing lines on black-board, or on ball-frame, | p|- Then give

signs, 6 X 2 == 2 X 6 = 12. Change the lines into three or loun, to give
variety.' The children may atl;erwar(ls be required to make rectangles, like
the foregoing, out of marbles or bricks, and deduct the factors themselves.
This varies the exercise, and never fiiils to amuse and interest.

Btcision. I have got in this basket not less than 24 ajiples, and I want to
give every ehihl in the class an equal share. There are just 12 children in
the class, and how many must I give to each ? Two, the children will at
onee exclaim. I then divide them into twos, and give each child accordingly,

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and bocausc wlipn 1 do so, I divide, or am making a division, this is callod
dirisioti, and has for its si}i;n -^. This is done a f^reat deal quicktir than hy
takinff 2 Irom 2 1 k-avinj;; 22, and 2 from 22 k'aviii;^ 20, &c. And hence a
new rnle is introdneed, though after all it is nothing but a short way of work-
ing subtraction, in the same way as nmltiplication is a short way of working
addition, (live here a nnnd)er of similar examples, — (1) Four whips cost 8d.,
what is the pri(;e of 1 ? (2) Three loaves cost !)(!., what is tiie price of 1 'i
(3) Divide a shilling anumg three boys, how much has each? (ij Tln-ow 18
marbles into three holes, how numy will there be in each. (o). liiere are 30
boys in a class, seated ecjually on 4 forms, how many will be on each form.
(()) A hoi-se galloped 40 miles in 5 hom-s, what rate is that j)er hour ? This
may be done in a more systematic way, by reverting again to the multi-
plication table, either on ball-frame or lines on black-board.

I I two ones arc 2, or the half of 2 is 1.

I I I three ones are 3, or the third of 3 is 1 .
j ] II two twos are 4, or the half of 4 is 2.

Ill III III three threes are 9, or the third of 9 is 3.

nil llll III! nil four fours are 16, or the fourth of 10 is 4.

At the end of every new lesson there should always bo given a few exercises
on the preceding one. When subtraction is going on, combine it with addi-
tion ; when multiplication, with addition and subtraction ; and when division,
w'th addition, subtraction and multiplication. Here there should be given a
large number of miscellaneous exercises on the fundamental rules.

Fractions in their Simplest Form. Here give an oral lesson to show tlie
real meaning of the term. Children, do you see this slate pencil ? Yes. Is
it a whole i)encil or part of one ? It is a whole one, Couhl you give iiic
another name for whole ? Yes, entire. Any other ? No answer. Well, I
Avill tell you. The word integer is just the Latin word ft)r whole or entire.
Now, tl'is whole or integer slate pencil, I am going to break into two equal
partj<. Done, and now I have to a.sk you Avhat you call each of these ? I'he
half. Suppose I divid'; these halves again equally, how would the slate pon-
cil be divided ? Into four parts. Andean I go on dividing these as I will ?
Yes. And what are these ])arts, when applied to number called ? No
answer. I supjiose you don't know, and therefore I will tell you. There is a
L.itin word, fravtiis, which signifies broken, and hoice the word fraction,
which just means broken. These fractions or broken numbers are theretbre
the parts of a whole, or integer number. Come and I will show you the sym-
bols emj)loyed to represent these fractions or broken nundjei-s. Here is a
half, ^ ; a third, ^ ; a fourth, \ ; a fitlli, \ ; two-thirds, | ; fbur-fitths, |, &c.

Having thus fixed in the minds of the young the idea of a fractional num-
ber, it is very easy to go on, and by dividing an object into a great nuinltor
of parts to give more enlarged views on the subject. Take an orange. If 1
wish to diviiie this orange amongst three boys, what must I do V How nnich
must each get ? Here is half an orange, and I divide it between two hoys,
how much of the half does each get? Hoav much of the Avhole ? Very likely
this question would not be answered. An easy demonstration of it would
consist in diviiling a whole orange into two, then each half into two equal
portions, a;\d the children would at once see that ono-half of l;ilf an orange
was exactly the same thing as one-fourth of the whole orange.

The pupils having been thus rendered familiar with the elementary ideas
effractions, they should then be led on to the addition, subtraction and multi-
plication of fractional numbers, the teacher still availing himself of tangible

W-

ART OP EDUCATION.

401

1.
2.
.•?.
4.
hour,
.j.

oculnr dc.monstrations or visihlt^ obji'cts; and lie. need ho, at no loss for tliusi'.
lion- l(>ll()w a icw oxerciscs in tlio i'uiidaini'ntal rules, —

Two-halls and one-halt' an^ how many halves y

'rhrec-f'ourths ami four-iburths, how many fourths V

Four-fifths and six-fiflhs, how many fifths V

A boy hius three half aj)i)les, and <^ives one of the^se halves to his neijrh-

low many halves has he leflV How many whole ai)j)les ?

If I were to <riv(', onc^ l)oy six-fourths of an apfde, and anotlu'r hoy two-
ioni'tlis, which would have more V IIow nuieh more, how many apples more V
G. Take four-tenths from six-tenths, ei^ht-tenths from ten-tenths, two-
liundreiltlis from three-hundredths.

7. From five-thirds take tvv^o-thirds.

8. Let five boys hold uj> each ten finders, and if of these fifty tenths we
take two-tenths away, how many tenths will be left V

9. Six boys got half an ai)ple each, how many halves had they all ? How
iiuiiiy wholes ?

10. In three apples how many halves ?

11. How many thirds are four times two-tiiirds ?

12. How many tenths do fijur times tiiree-tenths make?

Ajiplicatlon of number to moncjj. What is this (the teacher holding up a
cent in his hand) V A cent. Jaraes, suppose I were to give you this cent,
wliat would you do with it? 1 would buy a pear. Well, then, you go to
Mi-s. Thompson's, and you ivsk her to give you a pear for a cent ; she gives
you one and you put down the cent on the counter. But suppose you found
the pear, the moment you took it into your hand, to be rotten, what avouhI
you do? I ivould say to Mrs. Thompson, this pear is rotten, yive me another
pear that is worth a cent, or of the same value.

When, then, you buy the pear, you give what you consider of ecjual value,
and what do you call the cent ? Money, a piece of money. Any other name ?
.1 com. The cent then is . . . of equal value, iimX yoM exchange it . . .for
Ihc pear. Could yon gc!t the pear for anything else ? Yes, if I were to give
Mrs. Thomson a oall, which wotdd be of little more value than the pear. Would
hlie like this as well ? No. Why ? Because it is not nearly so convenient :
anil verji likely she miyht not get any person to purchase the hall at all, and it
would be of no use to her. Do you know any other kind of money? Yes.
A dime. How many jiears could you get for a dime ? Ten. And why ?
Because the dime is worth ten cents. What coin is this ? A quarter dollar.
Am! how numy ])ears could you buy for it ? Twenty-five, because there are
twenty-five cents in a quarter dollar. What is this ? Half a dollar, or a florin.
Am' liow many pears could you jiurchase for it ? And so on till you go over
all tlie decimal currency, holiling up every coin before the children, and
n'(|uiriug them to tell how many cents it contains from the number of pears
tliuy would get for it, and allowing them to touch every coin, if they wish.
Next take a farthing, a peimy, a shilling, a jwund, and go over them in the
same manner. Now the children are prepared to make the application in
accounts, like the following : —

1. John gave five cents to James, ten cents to Andrew, and had four
remaining, how many cents had he at first ?

'2. IIow nuiny dimes are thert; in half a dollar, in a whole dollar, in two
•lollars ?

3. If John had two pennies, how many farthings would you require to
l^'ive him for them, how many half pence ?

1. John has four pennies and Jane eigh*, how many have they between
tliom ?

5. IIow many pence in one shilling, in two, in three ?

6. IIow many shillings in one pound, in i;wo, in three ?

til

■A

402

teacher's text-book.

7. ,F()lin poos to the ffroccTs and liiijs lliroc ]H(imtls of Mipar at six ponce a
pound, how mncli slionld lie l)rin<i lu nic out of two shillings ?

><. James bouplit ca pair of shoes tor a dollar and a half ; a jaokot for two
dollars, and a cap tor seventy-fivt^ cents, liow nuich ditl he j)ay lor all V

Tlu'Sf may siilhce lor a specimen. The teacher may multijily these exer-
cises to any amount, and the more they are within the range of common lile,
the more ch'arly will the children see that arithmetic ha.s to do with every
day transactions.

A/iplirnti(»} of innnhcr to menswcs, inifjJits, iSc. The teaclier being provided
with a few inch, toot and yard measures, will proceed to the fii-st lesson.
He will picture out, tii-st, the neci'ssity and advantages of having exact
measures and weights, whether we buy cloth, or sugar, or tea. Having done
this, he will then call attention to the measmrs, bv showin<r them to the clnss,
ami giving their names; then by comiiaring them with one another, first hy
holding them u]) together, atterwards drawing them on the black-board and
ri'(Hiiriiig the i)ii])ils to do the same on their slates or on tlie black-board, he
will show that there are twelve inches in a foot, and thirty-six inches or three
feet in a yard. Having proved this liy actual measurement, the various
objects in the school may be taken and tested, the jjuiiils bein^f required to
state what they bi'lieve to be tlu; length of each object in succession, and then
aM'crtain the matter positively by measuring it themselves. This is the true
way of giving them a correct idea of distance. Exercises, similar to the fol-
lowing, may then be given : —

1 . In five yards how many feet ? inches ?

2. John is five feet, three inches, and William is four feet, nine inches,
what is the difference V

3. How many yards of cloth, at two shillings per yard, can be purchased
for three dollars V

4. I bought six yards of cloth for twelve dollars, wliat was that for each
yai-d V

The ap|)lication of miniber to scpiare measure, as well as measure of capac-
ity, may be taught exactly in the same way.

'J'/ti! (ippHcatian of iiuinher to iveit/lits should now 1)0 considered.

The teacher, being provided with a pair of scales, and the more common of
the Avoirdujiois, Troy and x\potliecaries' weights, will jiroeeed to explain
everything connected with the scales, and then give the names of the diflercnt
weights. Taking the ounce weight and juitting it into one of the scales, and
the dram weights of the Ajiothecaries into the oji])osite scale, the pupils will
kit once perceive how many drams are in an ounce, which the teacher will
mark on the black-board, and the j ^pils on their slates. Again j)uttiiig the
pound weight into one scale, and the ounce weights into the other, it will he
seen how many oun(!es are in a pound ; and so onward with all the weights.
P^xercises on the weights, similar to those on the measures, can here easily he
given.

Decimal Notation. This, as already stated, is a pure convention. The
power assigned to number fi'om the localizing j)rocess on the left hand :u:pht
just as well have be(!n placed on the right, and instead of being fixed to the
tenth power, it might just as well have been t(} the twelfth or sixtieth, the
duodecimal or sexagesimal. But whilst all this might have been so, no one
can fail to ])erceive or admire the inimitable siinjilicity of the decimal system,
evidently originating in the fingers of the human hand, and lying at the ha.'^ifl
of the whole system of counting or enumeration ; for what is every tenth
figure li-oni ten up to millions but the atldition often to the jneceding- Kcing
thus a convention, it is dear that it cannot be demonstrated or worked out to
the young through the medium of a geometrical proposition, or by a proccps
of reasoning ; it can only be presented to the } oung by illustrations and

]fn

ART OP EDUCATION.

403

.■rent
ami

Avill

^^W\

tlie

ill be

ivbts.
iiy be

The
ni-pbt
to tb.c
1, the
10 erne
v?toni,
. basis
tiiitli
Bi'ing
out to
rocofs

hi a

•f xomplificationf", until they become thoronjflily acquainted with the arrjinn;e-
uiiiut. Here it mij^ht be well to follow our usual plan, first to take an illus>
trillion t'roui actual objects or tliiuijjs. JSu])p()S(' wi' wish t« count a i)ox of
pencils, wliat would we naturally do? Wc would tie tlicni together in
bundles of ten, until we liad gone over tlu- whole, and we find, say, six
remaining. Wt; place these six aside, drawing six strokes on the black-board,
and marking underneath the figure 6, telling the j)upils that these strokes
r('[)ri'sent tlie (i jtencils, or six ones, suid tlie figure (j tlie symbol of tlu'se six
strokes. We ijow tie every ten of the bundles often units together, and find
attcr we are done 4 bundles remaining. We draw four strokes on tlie black-
^joanl, and write under the figure 4, and tell the jtupils that thest; rtipresent
the 4 bundles of ten. WV' now take; the la.st made bundles, each of which
contain:^ ten tens or one hundred units, and we ti(! them together. We have
only one bundle of these with three of the. one hundred reuiaining. ^V^e put
down on black-board the three one hundred strokes, putting 3 and two cypheif*
nndcrneath. Lastly, w»' place on black-board one thousand strokes, and write
^mderneath 1000, telling the pupils that this (me bundle ix»])rescnts the ten
one hundred bundles, which remained over ami above the whole. W^e have
now placed in successitni on the black-board (i units, 4 bundhis often each, S
bundles of 10(t each, and one bundle containing a thousand. We now ask
die pupils to bring all these strokes and ligurt^s together, and to put each of
these to the left hand side of the other, and to tell the whole number, lv{46.
lieiriimiu'' them to name these fij^ures over aud over, both from ri<rht to lell
and fhnn left to right.

After these illustrations, first, from the reality of the bundles, an<l secondly,
iroai their signs or representatives, — the strokes, and histly, frcHn the symbols
or figures, a large number of examjilcs shoidd be introduced. Add 24 to 35,
Wliat have you here V 4 units and 5 units, which make 9 units, 2 tens and
xJ tens, which make 5 tens. Thus we have 3 units and 5 ten.s, or .')9. Add
toirother Sti.") and 23.S. Here we have three units and five units, which make
''if!;lit, three tens and six tens, which ntake nine tens, and two hundreds and
three hundreds, which make five hundreds, or 5i)8. Here, too, a number of
exaiii])lcs n\ay be given, both in money, weights and measures, when these are
under ten. The exercises in subtraction, &c., should be of the same nature
!us the jtreeeding. Take 28 a|)plcs from 31). Here we take 8 units from 9
'Jiiits aud I remains ; 2 tens from .S tens and 1 ten remains. But 1 unit and
I ten make 11. Aud so on with multiplication and division.

Ihit besides the examples thus necessary to make the scholars familiar with
thereat and local value of numbei"s, there is another element, namely, elassi-
iication, ami this, too, must be set tiirth by an array of exam[)les. 'J'ake the
same illustration as beti)re, the bundles of slate pencils. We have then 5
bundles of one hundred, 4 often, and 3 ones, or three single pencils; 8 of one
liundred, 4 often, and (J ones; 3 of on<', hundred. 2 of tens, and 7 ones; 1 of
one hundred, 7 of tens, ami 5 single pencils. Mark these on bhu'k-board,
int'orniing the scholars that they represent the bundles of pemnls. Put down
one line as bef()re 543, and now train the td ass how to arrange the others,
placing the hundreds, the tens, and units in their respective columns, in other
words, apply tlu; principle of classification, and the work is done. This pro^
wss, too, will explain the whole matter of carrying.

Arithmetic Abstract. (I. Initiatory.) We have disonsscd, at some
leiiijth, the subject of concrete arithmetio. We have shown that the
young become acquainted with number at a very early period, not for
its own sake, but for the sake of the object or objects with which it
18 associated. Wo have dwelt at length on the application of num-

■ I

■' ,v «.

i;*

mPfv

404

teacher's text-book.

fn' ,

i4i

hi ■•

ber to realities, or the objects themselves, then to their signs oi
representations, and lastly, to the objects with which the pupils are
familiar, but which are now absent. And thus, by the systematizing
of the concrete, we have paved and prepared the way for an easy and
natural transition to the abstract. Instead of beinu launched all at
once into the region of the unknown, which is generally the case with
all children at the commencement of their arithmetical career, by going
through this course of training they feel the stability of the gi'ouud on
which they are treading, and they understand right well what is the
index of these signs, and the end in view in the processes they are
required to work out, as well as the character of the means by which
this end is accomplished. Abstract arithmetic is thus rendered a per-
fectly rational and intelligent exercise, an exercise in which children
possessed but of ordinary or medium powers may be brought to take
an interest.

Scholars, generally, who have received anything like justice in their
education, and been regular in their attendance at school from the
time they were six years of age, are quite competent to enter upou
abstract arithmetic about eight, or the period when they pass from the
Primary to the Intermediate department. So long as they are in this-
department, that is, from about eight till ten, their reflective powers
are not yet developed, and consequently their attention, during this
period, in arithmetic, should be directed to a few of the more funda-
mental rules, to be worked with all possible accuracy and expedition.
This naturally divitles the whole subject of arithmetic into two great
divisions, thereby requiring two text-books, an initiatory, and a more
advanced. The former should embrace the following rules : —

1. Enumeration and notation.

2. Fundamental rules.

3. Addition, Bubtraction, multiplication and division of decimals,
and vulgar fractions.

4. Reduction and compound rules.

5. Practice.

G. Proportion.

7. Simplest rules in interest, discount, &c.

This initiatory text-book, which would be to all intents and purposes
the text-book of the common schools of the country, should be mainly
devoted to examples both in mental and slate arithmetic ; and these
invariably rising from the easy to the more difficult. Each new rule
should be introduced by a short oral object lesson on its nature, so
as to bring out in pictorial relief the import of the designation; this

1
3 6

2 I 7

his

8 9 6
6 8 7
3 9

1 3

2 C

i 1

i 9 .7 3

iVi

ART OF EDUCATION.

405

^liould be followed by one or two, or, if need be, by three examples,
worked in full with a minute analysis of every step in the process, and
from these two, the object lesson and the example, the rule for general
guidance should lie deduced by the pupils themselves, aided by the
teacher. We here s' bjoin a few illustrations of the mode in which
we conceive such a text-book ought to be constructed : —

ADDITION. — OBJKCT LKSSON ON KXl'LANATORY KXERCISES.

ExAMPLK 1. — Henry fravc 5 dollars for a coat, and 3 <lollars for a vest ;
how much did lie pay tor both ?

Analysis. — He gave iis many dollars as 5 doUai's and 3 dollars, which are
8 (lolliirs. Therefore he gave 8 dollars i'or both.

2. John sold a pig for 3 dollars, and a calf for 6 dollars ; how much did
he receive for both V

3. Mary has five apples in a ba.sket, .and 7 apples in her hands ; how many
.i])ples ha.s she altogether ?

From the preceding operations we pereeiA'c that Apdition is the process
of uniting several numbers of the same kind into one equivalent number.

Tlie SUM or amount is tlie result obtained by the process of addition.

The sign, -(-, is called plus, which signifies more. When placed between
two numbei-s, it denotes that they are to be added ; thus, 5 -f- 1, shows that
^ and 4 are to be addeil.

SIMPLE ADDITION. — CASE I.

When the amount of each column is less than ten.

Example. — A farmer sold some oats for 102 dollars, twelve cows for 360
dollars, and a hoi-se lor 21 7 dollars ;, how many dollars did he receive for all ?

opeeation. Analysis. — We arrange the ninnbers, so that units of like
^ order shall stand in the same column. We then add the eolunms

2 . separately, tor convenience beginning at the right hand, and
write each result under the colunm added. Thus, we have 7 and
2 ai-e nine, tlie sum of the units ; 1 and G are 7, the sum of the
tens; 2 and 3 and I are 6, tin' sum of the hundreds. Hence, the
entire amount is G hundreds, 7 tens, and 9 imits, or 679, the
answer.

Z c •
- n

1
3 6

2 1

hundred

tens.

unit'i.

pose& g

8 9 6

laiul) ■
these I

6 8 7
3 9

kr rule 1

1 3

re, so ■
; this ■

2 6
i 7

7 9 CASE II.

When the amount of any column equals or exceeds ten.

Example. — A mei'chant pays 89() <lollars a year for tlie rent of a store,
'687 (lnllai"s for a clerk, and 390 dollai-s lor truckage : what is the amount of
his expenses ?

OPKHATiON. Analysis. — Arranging the numbers as in the former case, we
first add the column of units, and find the sum to be 13 units,
which is 1 ten and 3 units. We write the 3 units in the place of
units, and the 1 ten in the place of tens. The sum of the figures
in the coluuin of tens is 2G tens, which is 2 hundreds and 6 tens.
We write the G tens in the pl;w>e of tens, and the 2 hundreds iu
the place of hundreds. We next add tlie column of hundreds,
and find the sum to be 1 7 hundreds, which is 1 thousand and 7
hundreds. We write the 7 humlreds in the place of hundreds,
and the 1 thousand in the place of thousands. Lastly, by uniting
the sum of the units, with the sums of the tens and hundreds, we
find the total amount to be 1 thousand, 9 hundreds, 7 tens and 8
units, or 1973.
9 .7 3

r ■'

ill**

P'*

Is.

if,

J ;

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! 1

W'i

40e

TEACHEU'S TKXT-BOOK.

Tills example should also be performed by following method, wliicli is that
in oonnnon use.

OPEK.VTiON. Analysis. — Arranjjfiiif; the numbei-s as before, we add the
896 first column, and find the sum to he IIS units; writing the .'! units
687 inuler tlie colnuin of units, .ve a<ld the 1 ten to the column of
890 tens, and find the sum to be 27 tens; writing; the 7 tens umler

the column of tens, we atld the 2 hundn'ds to the colimm of lum-

1973 dreds, and find the sum to be 19 hundreds; as this is the last
column, we write down its amount, 19; and we have the whole
amount, 1973, as l)efore.

At this stage the teachei' should again call the attention of the pupils to the
dillerent parts of the analysis, and thus enable them to form tiie rule for
themselves.

Tliey should also be made to give the rule thus formed in their own words^
and if necessary, to conij>are it with that given in the book.

Tlie teacher should now give a number of mental exercises to ascertain
that the pupils imderstand the whole process and rule — If so, they may be
allowed to proceed with the work in order.

In the same manner each rule shoidd be introduced and illustrated.

But it is more to our purpose that we here give a few directions on
the method of teaching arithmetic at this stage.

1. We trust it is scarcely necessary to notice that in arithmetic, as
in every other department, the i)upils should be regularly classified.
This is specially needed at the present stage. The grand object, as
already noticed in reference to this stage, is accuracy, neatness and
expedition. This can be more effectually set;ured by the sympathy of
numbers than by any other stimulant, and this can only have justice
done to it by thorough classification. It has been too much the prac-
tice, whenever children are able to work examples in arithmetic, out
of a book, to allow each to work on his own account, and thereby
deprive them of the whole benefit of the sympathy of numbers. Tliis
is undoubtedly wrong, and is specially so here, where so much depends
in the object aimed at, upon external stimulants. At this stage tlie
scholars are to study not only the rationale of the principles uivolved,
but facility in tlie working, and that with an accuracy that can be
depended on.

2. The teacher himself should always, either in the class-room or
in the school, expound a new rule to his pujiils. If, in arithmetic, the
aid of the monitor, or pupil-teacher, or assistant can be called in with
as great effect as in any other branch, this should be confined entirely
to the su[>ervision of the working of the examples. The exposition of
any principle should bo left entirely to the liead master. He ought to>
be |)erfectly competent to unfold it in such a way as it shall be thor-
oughly understood by the most stupid in the class. He can exhibit
it by illustrations, both in itself and in its relations, that the whole
class shall see it in all its importance,, and appreciate it in all its value.

AUT OP EDUCATION.

407

That such is the case a satisfactory test should be taken. Two or
three examples should be given the class to work from the black-board
before th<^y are remanded to their seats. If they can work these with
ease and intelligence, the object turned at lias been attained. They
may theri return to their seats, and under the eye of the monitor be
allowed to work the examples in the book.

3. A certain number of examples should be given out for the
working of the whole class, and the pupils that get them first done
and pronounced correct by the monitor, should be marked in order,
and shown to the master, and made to appear in their favour when the
progress of the day is summed up.

4. In all the arithmetic classes, from the lowest to the highest,
there should be constant reviews, specially of the fundamental rules,
both simple and compound. An hour every day devoted to this branch
is not at all too much, fifteen minutes of that time should be given to
class reviews, with keen competition. This will prove of vastly greater
service, both for uiental development and practical purposes, than the
solution of tlie most difficult problems, or the pondering of the most
puzzling exercises.

Arithmetic Abstract. (2. Advanced. ) As the grand object in the
initiatory is to train the pupils to ha ,its of accuracy, expertness and
neatness in computation, so here it is to develop mind, to expand and
enlarge the highest intellectual endowments of our nature. Whilst
arithmetic is in itself of vast practical utility in every walk and pursuit
of life, and demands, therefore, the highest place next to reading in
every system of popular education, it is of all branches usually taught
in our common schools, the best fitted to discipline the reflective
powers. This has not been neglected in the preceding part. We
have taken for granted that the head master has, with the help of the
black-board, given a full exjiosition of each rule, as well as, when
necessary, presented a pictorial delineation of the same. But this is
the main field for elaborating the theory or rationale of every rule.
The pupils, generally, before they finish the concrete and the initiatory
abstract, are past twelve years of age, and both by their age and
attaiiunents in a state of preparedness for the exercise of their reflec-
tive powers, and perfectly competent for a due appreciation of the
theory of each rule. In this stage there ought to be a complete list
of all the different rules in arithmetic, with their varied relations and
dependencies traced.

In examining these rules or problems, it will be found that in all
their diversified processes of operation, or modes by which their

■ (
t I

:miI

ilTllPT^

408

TEACIIKKS TEXT-BCOK.

<'5

I! ii I

resultants arc effoctcd, the two fuiidainoiitiil rulos of addition and suli-
tractioii porvado the whole. There is, no doubt, <'onsideral)le diversity
and eoinph^xity of rombiuation and of operation, but all is traceable
to one grand j»rineiple, the principle of adding to or taking from.
This is more palpably the case on to proportion. Hero the princii)lo
of comparison, or the doctrine of ratios, is introduced, but this is more
iu the fornuda of the account or statement than in the process of its
operation. All, from proi)ortion on to the square and cube roots, are
dependent on the same process, all llow from the ride of three as it is
sometimes designated. In cvoliiti(ni, which is neither more nor less
than one of the properties of nund)er, there is the a{)plication of
the same principle in an indirect form. It may be well, as the
advanced class proceeds from the one rule to the otlu!i', to point out
iheir several distinctive features in what they resend)Ie, and in what
they differ in their processes and modes of operations, and specially to
call attention to their practical comparative usefulness. As at this
stage the abstractive and reasouing powers of the pupils are principally
to be developed, so every effort should be put forth to expound the
theory of each problem or kind of exercise, and from it to elicit the
rule as well as the converse, from the rule to evoke the theory.
When the exercise can be easily illustrated by geometry or algebra,
this should at once be done, as it will tend largely to enlighten and
expand the views of the pupils on the whole question. When there
are several ways by which the conclusion may be reached, it would be
advantageous not to bind the pupils to any one course or mode, but
to leave them very much to their own latitude. Indeed, if there are
two or three ways of working out the same result, the pupils should
not only be encouraged, but i)ositively required by the master to do
so. The same plan should be pursued with the proving or verifying.
When that can be done in more ways than one, it should be resorted
to, as it will not only give additional confirmation, but develop and
enlarge the conception.

The examples here should rise under every exercise to the highest
possible pinnacle. It matters not how difficult they may be, if they
rise orderly and consecutively. Indeed, the more difficult the better ;
the more diversified, too, the more likely are they to call forth higher
energy and more profound research. At the end of every rule there
should be a few exercises derived from the immediately preceding
rules, for the purpose of withdrawing the mind from the more formal
or routine, and directing it to general work. It were well, too, even
iu the more advanced department, to have a weekly competition with

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ART OF EDUCATION.

409

the other classes in reference to the fundimientul rules, or reduction, or
even proportion, rising of course in <litn(;ulty in accordance with their
advancement. This is a grand defect in all our teaching of aritlunctic.
Immediately when the pupils are com[)etent, by dint of the devislop-
nient of their intellectual powcn's, to grapi)le with the dcseper (juestions,
they abandon the more slmj)le, and seldom, if ever, work any account
in tluan. What they gain in knowledge or in arithmetical power,
they lose in accuracy and speed, and oftentimes allow their juniors to
surpass tluiui. This should not be. It is still the fundamental and
the more easily wrought rules that they are most depend(;nt upon in
common affairs, and which they will find of tluj greatest advantage,
when they embark on life's busy scenes. It is (piite i)roper to go to
the more advanced, but it is not less so that they lay aside; an hour or
so evoy W(.;ek for rising to yet more unvarying accuracy and expert-
ness in the more common and the more ^nei'ully useful rules.

Ahfebra. Much is lost in connection with the value and beauty of
computation, in consequence of this branch not being introduced or
taught till the [)upils are far advanced in arithmetic, or have well nigh
finished it. A» x 1/ z, the unknown numbers, may be employed to
rei)resent any concrete number just as any other object, so may it be
taught as soon as the pupils are able to work addition with tolerable
ease, we mean, of course, in its more simple or elementary forms. And
here we may state, that it is our decided oi)inion that algebra should be
divided into three stages, just as arithmetic has been. The first stage
should be merely adding and subtracting, using only simple signs.
The second stage should embrace the application of algebraical signs
and symbols, called sometimes praxis, with some exercises in very
simple equations. The third, or last stage, may commence with tho
common works on the science. On each of these stages, we shall
make a few observations, and give a few exemplifications.

Star/e 1. This is exceedingly initiatory, and can be worked by any
child of eight or nine years of age. There is nothing but simple signs
employed, and simple addition and subtraction. But simple as this
may be, it is admirably calculated to open the tender biid of the
juvenile mind to the matter of number, and to enlarge his views on
the whole subject.

EXERCISKS IN ALGEHIIA. — FIRST STAGE.

F'nd the sum ofa-\-2a-\-6a-\-7a.

rind the value o(4a-\-iia-\-2a-\-()a-{-5a.

Find the value of 3 b -\- ib—^b -\- \ b.

Find the value of3a-j-2a-j-5a-|-7 a — 6 a when a = 7.

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OPKUATIOX.

3 rt -f- 2 rt -f- 5 rt + 7 a— f5 rt
3 X 7 -f 2 X 7 + r, X 7 + 7 X 7 — 6 X 7
21 -j- 14 -|- :{5 -f 49 — 42
119 — 42

77 Ans.
5, Find the value of | a -|- f u -}- 8 a when a = 15.

8KC0XD STAGE.

1. Find the numerical value of A j:-{- ii y -\- S a when n =■
= 5.

OPKKATION.

4, X 7 and

■ 4.

x= 3

4 a; -f 5 y -f- 3 rt

4 X 7 + 5 X .') X 3 X 4

28 + 25-{- 12

6.5 Ans.
Find the value of .5 oj;y, Avhen a. = 4, // = 8 and x == 5.
Find tlie value 3 a^ x'^ —-4 x when « = 7 and x = .'5.
Find the value of a^ -|- Wax -\- x"^ when a = 4 antl x = G.
Find the value ol" x^ -|- 3 (a -}- x) (a — ^) -f- «'^ when a = 5 and

6. Find the value of 3 x^ -f-

2 a 4- 3 X + 1 2 y

nj/

when a = 4,

47/ 4

a; = 5 and ?/ = 2.

In the follow Miii: exercises the pupil is to attach any value to the letters he
mav wish and find the result.

7. 2 (r;— x)- = 2 a'^ — 4 ax -j- 2 x-.

3 O-^ --') = ,,(„.

n -\- X

x).

--= («^ + a-^) (a + x).

10.
11.

a — X

^8 _|_ a;3 _. ^q2 rtX -|- x'^) (n -\- x).

(a'^ -}- ax -f- x^) (a — .r) = a^ — x'.

THIUD STAGE.

Same as given in any work on Algebra.

Geometry. One grand defect in common with algebra, in the
teaching of this branch of education hitherto, has been the lateness in
the school course at which it has been introduced to the notice of the
young. We do not here refer to Geometry in its highest abstract
stages, such as it is elaborated in Euclid. This, generally s^jeaking, is
not taught at too early a period. We refer to the practice of ushering
the pupils all at once into the abstractions of Geometry without the
slightest preparation in reference to form in the concrete, without their
even knowing what an angle is, or the difference existing amongst the
most common figures, whether made up of straight lines or curves.
They are launched all at once into the very heart of the definitions,
axioms and postulates of pAiclid, into all the technicalities of the science,
without the most distant idea of what constitutes the magnitude of au

AHT OP EDUCATION.

411

angle, or the (Vistinction between the various sorts of angles and tri-
angles, or even without the eapability of distinguishing the most com-
mon figures. Need we wonder, then, that with so many, Geometry
becomes a meaningless round of vocables, a purely mechanical jirocess,
those very faculties, which it was intended mainly to exercise and
discipline, remaining untouched and unmoved ; and the whole study in
fact becoming a tiresome and unpaL table task.

Now, we apprehend that much, a great deal of the mysticism and
empiricism, in which this interesting and important science has been
Involved, may be obviated, by treating it pretty much in the same way
as arithmetic, beginning with the concrete and rising to the abstract,
familiarizing the mind first with forms or figures that prevail, and
with all the primary (jualities of bodies; then passing on to the consid-
eration of some of their more prominent properties and uses. And
after this process has been gone through, to pass over to all the
abstractness and technicalities of Euclid. With this view, and for the
accomplishment of these important purposes, the study of Geometry
should be divided into three departments or stages. The first may be
designated the Geometry of form initiatory ; the second, the Geometry
of form advanced ; and the third, Plane Geometry, with all its higher
stages and practical ap{)lications.

Geometry of Form. This subject has already been presented to the
mind of our readers in connection witii the cultivation of the percep-
tive faculty, through the medium of object lessons. As form or figure
constitutes the first knowledge we derive through the medium of the
senses, so does instruction in this subject constitute the very first lesson
which the little child r^iceives on his entrance of his educational career
at five or six years of age, or under the parental roof at a much earlier
period. The idea of the existence of different kinds of forms may be
developed, and the faculty of perception cultivated at three or four
years of age ; and this may be continuously carried on through all the
different stages, as a branch of education, until the pupils are fit to be
transplanted into the very midst of the definitions and abstractions of
Euclid. Of course other departments will be greatly benefitted by the
culture of the perceptive. The abecedarians, for example, will be able
at once to decipher the different forms of the letters, and to distinguish
them from one another. The peimian and the painter, too, will be
far more competent to progress in their res{)ective avocations by the
aid they will obtain from the culture of the perceptive, both theoretic
and practical. But whilst all this is the case, and all these advantages
will fiow from the prosecution of this department, it is not on these

1 '

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412

TEACnEnS TEXT-BOOK.

accounts, hut for its own sake, it ought to h(! studied and attended to.
This win free it of all encuml)rnn<;e.s, and i-nahhj the .stud(!nls to follow
on in a more consecutive and progressive course. This preliminary
concrete department ought to consist, as already hinted, of two stages,
an initiatory and an advanced. The initiatory, after pointing out how
different kinds of forms may he developed to the minds of little chil-
dren about four years of age, should consider everything connected
with straight, and curved, and crooked lines, with the various figures
bounded thereby, whether rectilincuil, superficial or solid. The grand
point to be aimed at here is not so much the forms of figures to he
constructed as the modes of their development, so as to call forth and
strengthen the perceptive faculty. (See mode of conducting an
object lesson.)

2. Geometry of Form. {Advanced.) The pupils are now thor-
oughly ac(piainted with form of every shape and size, both linear,
superficial and solid, their tactual and visible organs have bi-en oxten-
sively cultivated and improved, and both in their theoretical and prac-
tical knowledge, ripe to proceed to a more advanced stage, even to
point out some of the more common properties and uses of straight
lines, angles, triangles, squares, parallelograms, circles, &c.

1. Properties of straight lines and curves. A line that is not bent
in any part of it, is called a straight line. A straight line is the
shortest i)ath that can be made from one point to another. So, when
we wish to tell the distance from one place to another, we measure
how long the straight line is that joins the two places. Two straight
lines can never cut across each other in more than one place, but a
curved line cannot be drawn that cannot be cut at least in two places;
and so on.

2. Properties of Angles. When two straight lines go in different
directions, the difference of their direction is called an angle. The
size of the angle then depends on the difference of the direction of the
line, and not on their length. The point where two straight lines
meet is called the vertex of the angle. When two straight lines cross
each other, they make four angles. When two straight lines cross
each other the opposite angles are of the same size. When two
straight lines, crossing each other, make four equal angles, each angle
is called a right angle.

3. Properties of Parallels. When two straight lines are parallel,
they are just as far apart in one place as in another. When two
curves are everywhere at the same distance apart, they are called
concentric curves. When a straight line crosses two parallel lines, it

mmT^"^

ART OF EDUCATION.

413

makes the same liuglcs with the one as with the other. If a stral<^ht

line is parallel to one of two parallel lines, it is parallel to the other.

4. Properties of Triangles. The three angles of a triangle taken

together will make two right

an^'les ;

show how this can he done by

A triangle

cutting a triangle out of paper with a pair of scissors,
cannot have more than one ingle as large as a right angle. If one
angle in a triangle is a right angle, the other two put together will, of
course, just be equal to a righ^, angle. If one side of a triangle is
longer than another side, the angle opposite the longer side is larger
than that opposite the shorter side. When one angle in a triangle is
larger than another, the side opposite the larger angle is longer than
the side opposite the smaller angle. The size of triangles and the
different kinds of triangles, (juadrangles, parallelograms, &c., with
their various uses, should be here pointed out.

5. Properties of Circles. A curve that bends equally in every
part is called a circumference, and a figure bounded by a circumference
is called a circle. Parts of a circle are called arcs. If there was a
tree in the middle of a field, and the boy should keep all the time at
the same distance from the tree, he would come round to the place he
started from, and the track of his wheel would bend ecpially in every
part. He would in fact go round in the circumference of a circle. A
straight line drawn from the centre of a circle to its circumference is
called a radius. All the radii of the same circle are equal. Rectangles
and circles are the most common figures in all manufactured th'.igs.
They are the easiest figures to make exact, and the most convenient
when made. Circles are almost as common. But in natural things —
iu things made by the Creator, circles are much more common than
rectangles. A straight line joining the ends of an arc, is called a
chord. Any straight line going across a circle having both ends in
the circumference, is a chord. The longest chord we can have is the
one that goes through the centre of the circle, or the diameter. If
we divide a circumference into six arcs, the chord of each arc is just
as long as a radius. Then it may be shown how to measure angles,
how to measure the size of a circle, «&c. The properties of chords and
tangents. All these things illustrated by the drawing of objects, both
iu the world of nature and art. These may be continued with great
advantage to higher exercise^/, remembering that all must be exempli-
fied by the concrete.

Plane Geometry. Euclid. The pupils are supposed to be perfectly
familiar with magnitude or measure, and quantity in the concrete.
And they are now well prepared to enter upon the consideration, the

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414

TKACHEUS TKXT-IIOOK.

adv.iiitagoous (li.scuKHiou of the abstract muttice of Goometry. With
what delight and relish will they now iMiter upon the Htudy an coni-
|)ar('(| with what thoy would have done hud they been ignorant even
of what cfHihlituteH an angle or the plainest j'rop<'rti»;8 of lines, Hur-
faees and ,soli(l«. And in htunrthing the stud<'iit upon the arena of this
scienee, ko purely ahstiaet, and yet no euiim'ntly praetioal, so K'.igges-
tive, and yet so inexhaustible, so pregnant with results, a, id yet so
transe<'ndently illuminating and eidarging ; we may state it as our
convietion, that we know no treatise so well fitted to lay the basis of
this scienee than the six elejuentary books of Euclid, as given in the
iu._ oved editions of Sinison and I'layfair, and w»! know no collefttioii
of tlu'S(i ehtuu'iitary books so correctly and so ad)niial)ly ari'anged, a,s
Well as containing so many improvements in the sliape of practical
exanijdes at the en<l of each book as the one on Geometry in Cham-
ber's educational course. Jn our estimation this book not only j)r<;-
sents tlui best exposition of Plane Geometry, but lays the most siil)-
stantial foundation for the higher theoretical branches, such as Solid
and Sjdierical (jleonK^try, S)>hei'ical Trigouijuietry, Conic Sectionn ;
also, tor all the [iractical applications, such as ICngineering, Civil and
Military, Architecture, Navigation, &c.

lii entering upon this bran<!h, the first thing plainly to be done ia
the thorough understanding and the accurate committing to memory
of the ]Jelinitions, the J'ostulates and Axioms. The (snunciation ut
each proposition should also be well fixed in the memory, that it may
be cited, when nMpiinid, with ease and correctness. This constitutes
the very excellence and glory of G(!om(!try, every step tak<;n nMpiiriiig
confirmation from what has gone before. Whc'ther that j)roof is a
jiostulate, or axiom, or some preceding proposition, it ought to l)e at
once given and carefully recited. What adds to the beauty and nol)l<;-
ness of this fortification is the fact of its utter destitution of all ambi-
guity, it must either be right or wrong — it must be unique. Th'iA
distinct refenjnce to the proof will go far to prev(mt a {)ur<dy mechan-
ical process in the different steps of the argumentation, and cannot be
intelligently given without an und(!rstandiMg of the connection, and
a consefjueut clear apprehension of the demonstration itself.

As the grand object of Geometry is the exercise and cultivation of
the ratioclnative faculty, every effort should be put forth, and means
em[)loyed, to see that the faculty is really exercised, in the prosecution
of this branch of study ; and that too great dependence is not placed
on tlu! memory, if it does not sink into a purely meuioriter process

:i|*

AltT OF EDUCATION.

415

altogtitlicr. 'l\) prevent tliin hh iiiiieli as possiMe, it nii/^lit \)(' found in
every way a<lvuiitage<)HH to iufiint up<jn iIk; Ntiidents in this deparlinent,
when they «nter on u new theorem or proolem, to endeavour to make
nut a (himonstrutioii or coiifstruetion for theuiMelves before they ever
look at tlie one or other in Kuclid. Tliis oourse they slioidd puraue
inoHt eonscieiltiously and hcrnpuhjusly, vvliatever the difn<'idLieH, the
sacrill(;e.s or conHictinf^s to he (^neoiintered. Ilalf-ati-hoiir spent at this
wuik is worth hours devoted lo thi; most hdjoiious and ashi(hious
|>l(jddinj^, even when tliat imjiarts the eapahility of the most eorreet
rehearsal of Euclid's (h-monstration. To avoid eviM-ything in the
hiiajie of i(jutine or mechanism, to kt'ep the mind and understandin*^ in
vivid exercise, and to give the reasoning full justice, it may Ite well, in
iiddition to the above remark, lor the t(;acli<'r lo alter th<; jjositlon of
the h;tters from that in luiclid, and if the pn^prtsition is differently
demonstrated, such as the i;ighth, ninth, (devenlh and twelfth of (irst
hook, to re(juire the pupils to recite any form and every minutiae of
detail.

We have again and again pointed out the advantages of reducing, if
I)o^^^Jil)le, everything to practical application. 'I'licse advantages, in all
their length and bieadth, an; hei(! felt, .ind every opjtortunity, such as
is presiuited in the XXXlI.and XLVll. propositions of the I. Hook.
Klioiild l)t) (Mubraced und turned to account. Indeed, in (Jitometry of
form advanced, it were of the highest value to endeavour at every
stage to have something practical l)y way of exemplilication, something
Uiigilile U) our every day obsi'rvatioii, and to carry out tlie same in
every book of Euclid. Measuring fields an<l houses furnishes good
practice.

Finally, in adflition to all the other endeavours to develop the rea-
sijiiiiig facidty, as well as to show whethttr we are profiting l»y the
.study (jf Euclid, exercises sliould Ix; given out perioflically, <jn<'e every
week or fortnight, bearing some relation to the stage at which we have
arrived, either in the shape of eidargemeiit or deductions of proposi-
tions we have (tonsidereii, &e. At tlu; end of every book of Euclid in
our text-book there are some ca|>ital examples of these exercises.
These, or others of a cognate; nature, may be given out for solution,
and prove in every way beneficial both in dis<;iplining mind and in
adding to our knowledge in this department.

Penmunship. There is a strong disposition on the part of too many
teai'hera to depreciate or undervalue this branch, a disposition this,
which, wherever it obtains, must militate materially against its success-
ful t('aching. Various reasons may be assigned for this state of things.

'il

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416

teacher's text-book.

h; t

Some regard it as a purely mechanical process, a mere imitation which
'any one, with a good eye and a steady hand, can accomplish, and
thereby conferring neither credit nor discredit upon the teacher.
Other teachers may be indifferent penmen themselves, priding them-
selves in this very defect, because certain great men have been noto-
riously poor scribblers ; and it is very unreasonable to expect that
such will manifest much interest in the progress of their pupils. But,
whatever is the reason, such individuals labour under a grievous delu-
sion. Next to reading there is no branch of such extensive practical
importance as writing, and no branch demanding such unwearied
industry on the pan of the teacher, or one where his diligence and
success will be so amply rewarded or so highly appreciated, or one in
the successful prosecution of which he will obtain higher popularity as
a teacher. Besides though writing is unquestionably a mechanical
art, it should never be forgotten that, like every such pursuit, it is
founded upon fixed principles or laws, and that in the acquisition of
the art, the ^reatest advantage arises from these principles or laws
being associated therewith. Every teacher, then, should not only be
able to point out this connection, and assiduously persevere in doing
so, but he ought to labour to set before his pupils the best example
possible ; and for this purpose to acquire an increasing skill in t'^e use
of his own pen. All can be taught to write with legibility, jusi as all
can be taught to read with intelligence, so every teacher ought to pos-
sess the capability of presenting to his pupils, at least a fair specimen
of this quality. But enough of preparatory remark. Let us, as
briefly as we can, point out the principles that ought to guide the
pains-taking teacher in this branch of education, then say a few words
on the more prominent systems that have been resorted to, and lastly,
address a few observations both to teacher and taught.

1. And we would notice in the first place, that this branch ought
to be taught with intelligence. Nothing has done so much injury to it
as the prevalence of the notion, that it is purely a mechanical art.
entirely dependent on the eye and hand. That it is a mechanical art
and depends largely upon the imitative powers for success, no one will
call in question. But like every similar pursuit, it is, and ought to
be, founded upon some theoretical principle or principles, some natural
element or elements, which ought to be clearly apprehended and
steadily kept before the itiind in all the practical stages. Drawing,
architecture, sculpture and the like, have all certain fixed laws or
principles -pon which they are founded, and which must be carefully
carried out in all the artistic departments ; and the closer this union

if *'2- '»i!

ART OP EDUCATION.

417

is maintained, the higher will be the proficiency arrived at. So is it
with writing. Tlie basis of this art is form or figure, and that built
upon no arbitrary or capricious arrangement, but the most natural
principle, even the motions of the hand in the exercise. These
motions are four in number — the straight line, upward and downward,
the curve, from right to left and from left to right. These may
be all reduced to two, — the straight line and curve, and every letter
of the script alphabet, whether small or capital, are but modifi-
cations of these two forms, but scions or twigs engrafted upon these
two stocks. In this engraftment process, two things must be attended
to — the law of proportion, that is, the relative length of these lines,
and the law of symmetry or beauty, that is, the exact distance at which
each letter should be placed from the other. "What could be more
simple or beautiful than this arrangement, and yet how completely
does it occupy the attention, the understanding, the judgment and the
memory. The mechanical process is indispensable ; steady, patient,
persevering practice, is essential for the acquisition of this, as of every
other art, and the higher the imitative powers, the more successful the
practical results ; but the more successful far, will the learner, be when
the theory and practice go hand in hand, when the art is but the
legitimate carrying out of the science. This places the whole exercise
upon a rational platform, imparts a fixedness of purpose, a definite law
to all the operations of the scholar, a union of means and end, of
design and intelligence, a combination of the ajsthetical and mechanical,
which cannot fail to sjaread an animating, an enlivening charm over
the whole process ; it invests, too, the teaching with an importance
and interest, which it could not otherwise possess, and stimulates both
teacher and taught to ply their best energies, both intellectually and
mechanically, in the acquisition of the art.

2. Writing should be conducted on the gradation system, proceed-
ing from the easy to the more difficult, from the simple to the more
complicated. For this purpose, one of the first things which the
teacher must master is the classification of the script letters, rising
from the simple to the more complex, and founded upon the two ori-
ginal motions, the straight line and curve. The following order rests
upon this principle, and rises step by step : i, u, t, I, m, n, h, p, c, e, o,
«, d, g, j, y, I, f^ r, i\ w, k, s, x, z. The capitals may be arranged
pretty much after the same fiishion. These are founded upon what is
called the line of beauty, which is neither more nor less than the two-
fold curvature, that is, the curve from right to left, and the curve from
left to right. Before doing anything with the relative heights, some

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teacher's text-book.

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conclusion, some definite judgment must be come to, as to the absolute
height or the size of the hand which the scholars are required to write.
It is well known that the all but universal custom is to commence
with a large rough text-hand, and to continue at this for a considerable
period. This is for the purpose of enabling the pupils to trace, all the
more distinctly, the exact forms of the letters, and there is undoubtedly
great advantage in this. But whilst wo repudiate the idea of begin-
ning with a small or common current hand, we question whether a
large text does not overtax the muscles, and lead to much awkward-
ness both in the formation of the letters and the general posture of
the body. Perhaps, all things considered, the best course to pursue
here is to begin with a medium or half text-hand, to intermingle this
after the muscles are duly supplified with a large text, care being taken
that even then the muscles are not overstrained, and as soon as the
pupils are capable of forming the letters correctly, to allow them occa-
sionally to write a small hand copy. But whatever is the size of hand
determined on, the relative heights of the letters that go either above
or below the lines can be easily fixed by the drawing of a horizontal
line right in the centre of the two parallels, designating the whole a
height, and the half, half a height, measuring both above and below
the line accordingly. This fixes, very definitely, the proportional
length of the letters that go above or below the lines, — we mean, of
course, of the small letters, as the the large ones or capitals are not
supposed to be taken up until the pupils are able to form the others.
In this way the law of gradation, and that on the most natural princi-
ple, will be carried out to the very letter. There will be, first, the
straight line ; second, the straight line and curve ; third, the curve ;
fourth, the double curve ; fifth, the double curve and straight lines
combined ; sixth, the relative length of straight lines ; seventh, the
loop, or the double curve in miniature, such as in the letters y, g and y;
eighth, the loop, or the double curve in half miniature, such as in the
letters b,f, v, w, r ; ninth, the double curve in whole and half minia-
ture, such as in v, k, s, x, z. In this classification process, great
diversity of view may obtain, ijome may desire to resolve all the
letters in script alphabet into the two motions or elements, the straight
line and curve ; others into the four motions or elements, straight Hue,
up and down, curve from right to left, and from left to right ; others
into the nine motions or elements as above, and others into thirteen.
And from these motions or elements respectively, construct the
twenty-six letters of the alphabet. Perhaps the simplest way would
be to divide the whole into the half, and then again to subdivide these,

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ART OF EDTJCATrON,

419

^lt being always remembered that whether we prefer the thirteen, or
(nine, or five, these are but modifications, or rather exemplifications of
the two original motions, the straight line and cnrve, which may be
optionally designated either elements or principles.

3, Writing should be taught with all mechanical equipments, and
with all necessary aids. Here, perhaps more than in any other branch
of education, is it necessary to be provided with all external apparatus,
:and means, and aids. However conscious any individual may be of
his powers and capabilities in any one of ti.'e fine arts, however exalted
"his genius in any one department, he never would attempt to under
take any important work — a work on which his credit is staked—
■without being famished with the adequate materials, without being
placed in the most advantageous position for the performance of the
task. And it is exactly so with penmanship. It is a mechanical art,
and demands the most l^fitting machinery for its acquirement. The
first thing here to be a* ided to, is tlie furniture, the seats and desks.
These should be all properly graded and adjusted in complete adapta-
tion to the V crk, with proper slope, ink-fountain, footboard, &o. Every
scholar should have writing books, models, pens, &c., and these should
all be of the first quality. It is a false economy, even with beginners,
to stint the supply of the best raaterials, or to use an inferior article.
With the scholars all classified and provided with the materials, and
seated right opposite the black-board, the first thing that should engage
the attention of the master is the position of the body. In writing,
the body should be preserved as erect as possible. The children
should be prevented from leaning on the desk — a habit which injures
both their health and writing. The left side should approach the
desk, while the riglit is thrown slightly back. The writing book
should be placed somewhat to the right, and at siich a distance from
the pupil as will enable hi«i to reach it with perfect ease and freedom.
It should be parallel to the edge of the desk, and kept from moving
by the left liand, which, for this purpose, should be drawn in close to
the left side, the fingers stretched out and resting en the paper. In
order to give the right hand the liberty necessary to write well, the
arm should rest on the desk about midway between the wrist and the
elbow. The pupils must be trained to take and retain the proper
position, by frequent and oft-repeated exercises. The next thing
which the teacher has to do, is to train his pupils to handle the pen
with ease and dexterity. This is no easy accomplishment. Young
children find very considerable difficulty in wielding the pen in such a
way as to cause it to obey the impulse of the will. " The understand--

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Ing may be thoroughly alive to the due proportion, form and symmetry
of any one letter, and the eye may have completely mastered the-
elements whieh compose it, and yet the hand may refuse to form it
according to the prescribed model, or according to the idea which the
pupil has in his mental vision." In such cases, and they occur with
all beginner*, the maister must, with pains and patience, show the
children how the pen is to be held, lightly, yet steadily, between the
thumb and first and second fingers, at a certain distance from the nib,
pointing to the shoulder, but so that the nib shall fall square upon the
copy, the fingers, which hold it, being neither too stiff' nor too much
bent, the others (juite at rest, and the hand as a whole not turned over
too much on its edge. Not only must the teacher give these or simi-
lar directions, he must occasionally guide the wavering bund, and must
always smile on the faintest symptom of improvement.

4. Writing ou^it to be taught with fidelity, and yet with freedom
of imitation. In the acquirement of every trade or mechanical art,
there ought to be, at the outset, the closest copying or imitating of the
original. Both the eye and the hand require to be trained, and that
by the closest imitation. There is, no doubt, the greatest possible
diversity in the imitative capabilities, both of the one and other of
these, but even the greatest require at the outset to walk according to
a fixed rule or standard. And there is a striking reciprocity between
the standard and the execution of the task, between the task and
standard. The more correct and conformable with the original per-
formance, the more clear and precise will be our ertimate of the stand-
ard and vice versa. And this is exactly the case with the mechanical
art under consideration. The best eye and hand are liable to make
mistakes until they become femiliar by a reiteration of copies, until
both go through the work as by second nature, by instinct. It is ou
this ground that in our estimation everything should be' done in accord-
ance with rule, with a perfect standard. Hence, feint lines should be
drawn for every step, and the closest imitation insisted upon. It has
been already stated that a horizontal line should be drawn in the
centre of the fixed size of the hand, in order to regulate the relative
lengths of the letters ; but more than this, we maintain, that there
ought to be oblique or slanting lines to regulate the matter of inclina-
tions and distances of the letters. Let such lines be drawn at a cer-
tain angle which does not seem to be fixed, though the less the slope
or the nearer the right angle the better, and let this slanting line equal
in distance half a length, and call every intermediate distance a space,
causing the straight line and curve to occupy the same, and so on witl'^

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ART OF EDUCATION.

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"the other elements accovtUng to their size and requirements, and the
whole matter of distance is symmetrically arranged. But not only
should there be at the beginning the most complete dependence on
these lines, there should also be the closest imitation of the models
that are «et before the pupils until these models are ' oroughly mas-
tered. It is mainly on this account that we prefer Mips or writing
models to the inscribing or engraving of the letters or words on the
upper line of the cupy-book. The imitation, generally, does not ex-
tend beyond the first, or, very partially, the second line, and the whole
of the remaining lines of the copy are imitations of the preceding,
and not of the writing models ; and the result is, that the last
half literally undoes the first. To prevent the recurrence of such a
waste, both of time and means, the teadher ought ^ inspect every line,
at least, to point out its excellences or its faults, ■ d to insist upon a
yet closer imitation of the one and avoidance of the other ; and all this
should be continued, step by step, until there can scarcely be a distinc-
tion drawn between the model and the copy.

But here the question may be asked, are we to keep the children
always in leading strings ? Unquestionably not, we reply. It is only
until the eye and the hand have become perfectly familiar with these
aids, and their understanding cast into the same mould, that this
dependence on these lines is to continue. After the series has been
gone over three or four times, and tl.e most correct idea entertained
of the formation of the letters, their length and space, &c., the slanting
or oblique line may be removed, then the horizontal on'?. After a
considerable time the upper, and lastly, the under parallel may be
taken away. In this way, we encourage and foster both ths fidelity
and freedom of imitation.

5. But we would notice yet farther, that writing should be taught
analytically and not synthetically.

We shall suppose that the teacher has thoroughly mastered the art,
that he has analyzed the letters, and rendered himself perfectly familiar
with the elements of each, and the means and aids necessary for the
recasting, the recombining, the synthesis of the same ; and that "he is
about to proceed to give the first lesson to a class of beginners of seven
or eight years. He prints and writes in script on the black-board any
word with whicTi the class are familiar, causes them to trace and mas-
ter the dtffeTences lietween tliese forms. Then he requires them to
take up the script by itself, to observe its more prominent features, and
particularly the predominance of the straight and curve line, that the
lines are all inclined in one direction, and that all are nicely joined to

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TEAenER S TEXT-BOOK.

one another. By this analytical procesa the class will see that writing;
is conducted according to certain fixed laws, that it is not a mere
imitation process or a kind of hap-hazard work, that one wrote welt
and another badly. By tliis process the class will be prepared to enter
on their work with understanding, to attend more earnestly, and to-
make greater improvement than if set to imitate a few strokes or lines
without any knowledge of the benefits which the imitation would con-
fer on them. The way being thus cleared, a model should be set
before therx for their imitation, the simple always preceding the more
complex, and one stage thoroughly mastered before another is encoun-
tered. As soon as possible, words or short sentences should be given
rather than their elements ; this will incline them to take a deeper
interest in their work. Every new letter or element should be first
thoroughly analyzed by aid of the black-board, its form clearly
deciphered, and its description so> plain and palpable tliat the weakest
intellect can understand it.. It will impart ten-fold greater eflPect when.
all this verbal delineation is accompanied with the exemplification of
the teacher.

Lastly, writing ought to be taught with a specific reference to its
end. That end, need we say, is to convey our thoughts and those of
others to our fellow-creatures, to generations unborn. To eflfect this,,
legibility is indispensable; — a property this, demanding that every
letter be properly formed, of correct length and right distance from
each other, — a property this, which every teacher should, at least, pos-
sess and seek to impart to his pupils, or else the end contemplated is
not subserved. Though comparatively few read with taste, all can read
with intelligence. So iu writing. Though few can write with ele-^
gance, all can with legibility. This is the object contemplated in the
whole preparatory process, in all the calligraphic stages. Bat legi-
bility in itself is not enough unless accompanied with a due amount of
speed, an attainment this, only to be reached by practice, by constant
experience. So soon, then, as the letters are properly formed, the
scholars should strive to acquire rapidity, to aim at a current hand ;
and for this purpose writing from book or dictation should be practised
every alternate day with calligraphy, in fact the latter should only be
practised with a view to the acquisition of the other. It is exceedingly
desirable that all acquire a current fixed hand before they leave the
school. This would really be eyeing the end, and prove eminently
successful in securing at once legibility and speed — attributes really
worth striving for and retaining.

Such are the principles that ought to guide and direct in the acqui -

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423

sition of this art. Wo have dwelt the longer on them, not merely
because of the intrinsic importance of the subject, but because it is
pre-eminently the branch that shuts u]) the learners to the training
system. It is altogether impossible that the scholars can learn writing
without going through the exercise themselves, and the more adroitly
that is done, the higher and speedier will be the proficiency.

Various plans and systems have been propounded and followed out
to facilitate the acquisition of this art. We have the Dontonian, the
Spcncerian, the Staples, the Mulhauser, and many others. We un-
hesitatingly give the preference to Mulhauser, and those on the same
plan, simply because all their devices and adjustments are based upon
nature, have all a respect to the judgment, the eye and the hand, as
having to do not only with the mechanical but the assthetical and
the intellectual. We do not consider Mulhauser perfect by any
means. Without going into anything like a critical analysis of the
system, we have no hesitancy in pronouncing it at once redundant and
defective. It contains a great deal that is altogether impracticable
and absurd. The four elements, for example, or with the hook and
link, the six elements that he forms, after reducing the whole of the
scrip alphabet to the two straight lines founded on the motion of the
hand, are utterly useless. Why not at once make the difterent motions,
the elements or principles. Then, again, the system makes no proper
provision for the small or current hand — the ultimatum towards which
all should tend. The Mulhauser system is but an approximation to a
true system. The simplification of that system, and the supply of
its leading defects, is yet a grand desideratum in this branch of educa-
tion. There is, however, one peculiarity in all the systems that
have been propounded, deserving of special attention, viz., that they
have all made good penmen. And to what is this phenomenon owing ?
Plainly to the enthusiasm and industry of the author or propagator,
thereby exhibiting in bold relief the instrumentality of the teacher,
demonstrating in this branch, at least, the truthfulness of the saying,
' the school-master is the school,' and verifying what we stated at the
outset, that in no one branch will the industry and enthusiasm of the
teacher be so highly rewarded. Let the teacher but resolve vigilantly
to inspect every line, and faithfully to point out its excellencies and
imperfections, and thoroughly to analyze every new element as it
occurs, and the battle is won.

Form and Colour Drawing. This, like vocal music, is a compara-
tively new branch of education in our common schools. It has, no
doubt, been taught for years as one of the accomplishments of a

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tinishod education ; but even as such, generally speaking, it lias
been confined to the more wealthy, and still more to those who pos-
sessed a decided taste for the study, and who. in consccpience of this
very relish, had made decided progress in the art. Tt is now, however,
beginning to be regarded in another light, and to be taught for the
purpose of discovering those who have really a natural inclination for
the pursuit, and of expanding and fostering the same.

Like vocal nmsic, it ought to be taught to the young at the very
commencement of their educational history, beginning as usual with
the most initiatory, and proceeding by progressive stages to the more
advanced. These stages may be divided into three.

Staffe 1. Should be confined to the drawing of straight lines, and
to simple objects around with which the young are familiar, as well as
the distinguishing of the different sorts of colours. This stage will
form a kind of pastime or profitable amusement to the primary depart-
ment in a graded school, or to the initiatory class in a miscellaneous.
And yet it should not be less systematic or consecutive on that account.
The teacher here, as elsewhere, should observe the most regular
order, see that the children arrive at proficiency in the one form
before proceeding to the other, and that every succeeding form is based
upon and differs from the preceding. All the forms of straight lines
should be first presented one by one, two by two, and three by three,
and so onward continuously. It matters little how ftmtastic the forms,
provided the children are required to copy exactly after the pattern
shown. These, as far as practicable, should be accompanied with the
illustration of real objects in the natural world around. Indeed, it
were well that these objects were presented before the outlines be
drawn on the black-board.

At this stage little more should be done in reference to colour than
merely teaching the children to distinguish and name the seven colours
of the rainbow, viz., red, yellow, blue, orange, green, purple and indigo.
These may be presented in strips of paper, or in worsteds or ribbons,
and the class invited to name those they know. Some may bf>
acquainted with one colour, and others with another : and those to
which all are strangers should be made known by the teacher. Hav-
ing attained a thorough knowledge of colours, they should be required
to study their various hues, and to read them in the objects of nature
around — the flowers — the birds, &c.

Stage 2. Should embrace the elements of perspective, with the
blending of crayon and other paints, so as to bring out the shades,
hues and combination of colours. Here the children of the interme-

ART OP EDUCATION

425

(Hate .'ind preparatory departments should proceed systematieally and
consecutively to work, provide themselves with drawing books and
cards, such as Dyce's outlines, or outlines of familiar objects, by art-
masters in connection with the department of science and art, and bet-
ter still, IJartholomew's sketches, aild form themselves into regular
classes. Every new picture should be drawn first by the teacher on
the black-board, giving proper explanations, and directions, and shad-
ings, and then the class should take their books and vie with one
another in imitating the drawing. About a third of the class will
soon evince their superiority to all the others, and show a decided
taste for the pursuit. These should bo moved to a higher class, and
others brought to supply their place from a lower. This will put all,
who have any appreciation and relish for the art, on the ])est possible
vantage ground ; will enable them to stimulate one another, and if the
teacher is imbued with any love for such pursuits, to provide every
species of appliance for their advancement. Thus, opportunity and
encouragement will be given to those possessed of real genius for the
art to prosecute it with unabated ardor ; whilst those who have not,
may accjuire a facility in sketching any object around, which may prove
of the greatest possible utility in after life, open up sources of highest
gratification, and tend largely to their refinement and elevation.
Crayon may be here advantageously introduced, in illustrating the
classification of colours into primary and secondary, with their various
combinations and hues. This is an important and interesting field,
and should engage the closest attention both on the part of the teacher
and the taught. Here, too, the combination of colours — the primary,
the secondary, and the tertiary should be all explained and exemplified'

Stage 3. Drawing should here attain its highest perfection, in so
far, at least, as the common school can carry it. A predilection for
some department more than another will now manifest itself on the
part of the pupils. Some will prefer landscape ; others, portrait
painting ; others, flowers ; and others, beasts, &c. And whatever is
the selection made by one or another should be encouraged, and every
means provided for their gratification and the prosecution of the same.
All in this department should be required to copy from nature, as well
as from the productions of masters in the art.

The harmony of colours should be here carefully studied and prac-
tised. This is founded on the principle that every colour, when
placed beside another, u changed in appearance ; each modifies the
one with which It is in proximity. It is the observance of this law,
or the violation of it in dress, in the decorations and furniture of a

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TEACIIEtt's TEXT-BOOK.

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room, and in the arrangement of flowers in a bouquet, tliat constitutes
the chief distinction between taste and the lack of it in these depart-
ments. True taste, therefore, is the observance of philosophical laws,
that determines what colours are becoming to certain complexions,
also vvhich colours harmonize in the decoration of a room, &c. (See
object lessons — Geometry of form, &c.)

Book-Keeping. Though this is one of the direct practical applica-
tions both of writing and arithmetic, an application with which not
merely commercial men, but every tradesman and householder have
severally to do, it is marvellous that it does not receive a greater
share of attention, that it does not constitute one of the staple branches
of a common school education. It is no doubt taught to a few who
intend to devote themselves to a mercantile life, but even to those few,
it is, we fear, of comparatively slender benefit, and that mainly by
reason of the imperfect manner in which it is taught. " As it is
generally taught," says Stow, " it is literally a fancy not a reality.
It is scarcely any attainment whatever, save the power of making neat
and correct figures, which certainly is something ; but as to acquiring
a knowledge of kook-keeping in school on the ordinary plan, it is
perfectly a misconception. In business we have had scores of appli-
cations for clerkships from yo'"ig men, taught in various parts of the
country, and by all sorts of teachers, who presented their books as
proofs of having acquired this valuable branch of education ; but we
never found one who was competent to keep books, until he had been
trained to do so in a counting-house. They even, sometimes, do not
know at first on which side of the cash-book to place monies received.
It would indeed be an attainment were practical book-keeping taught
in schools ; but theoretical book-keeping is proved to have been per-
fectly nugatory." From this statement of Stow, — and no one was
better able to judge from the combination alike of his educational and
mercantile knowledge — it would seem that the grand defect in the
teaching of this branch, consists in the pupils not having clearly
expounded to them the principle or principles involved, in their being
mere copyists of the examples set before them without their being
required to work out exercises for themselves, in their being mere
transcribers of accounts without their being trained to keep accounts,
and being necessitated to draw out sets of books for themselves. Even
the balancing process in some form is all done to their hands.

And what, in these circumstances, ought to be done to extricate
this important branch of education from the anomalous position it has
hitherto occupied ? What, but to place it on the same foo-ng that

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427

tho other branches liold, such as arithmetic, grammar, reading, aud the
Ukc. And what is that? It is to impart to the scholars, by {)]aiu
and familiar illustrations, a clear understanding of the theory of book-
keeping, a thorough knowledge of the principle or principles involved.
Along with this exposition there must go a full practical exemplifica-
tion and analysis. This, generally speaking, is the terminal point of
almost all systems of book-keeping ; the pu[)ils are retjuired to copy
the practical exemplification, to see that the balancing process is cor-
rectly executed, and this winds up the whole matter. But surely this
is not enough. Why not treat hook-keeping in the same way as
grammar, arithmetic, and the other staple branches of education ?
Why not append to these examples and analyses a series of exercises^
illustrative of the various points, and require the pupils to work out
these, that the various processes may be incorporated into their minds,
and thereby furnish the most irrefragable evidence that they are not
only competent to copy, but actually to keep the various books
required. It is by the adoption of this or some similar course that
book-keeping can be taught in accordance with tho training system.

The object of book-keeping is to aid the memory in our worldly
transactions with our fellow creatures, whether these are small or
great, simple or complicated, common or formal commercial transac-
tions, to keep account of our property and debt. Whilst it is exceed-
ingly right and proper that all should be cognizant of the condition of
their worldly affairs, of their financial state, it is specially incumbent
OQ every merchant to exhibit clearly the whole amount of his prr-perty,
with the particulars of which it is composed, and also the amount of
his debt, how he stands with the parties with whom he carries on
business, how they stand with him, whether his assets exceed his
liabilities or his liabilities his assets, whether, in one word, he is
solvent or insolvent, and the cause of his being either in the one con-
dition or the other.

Now, if such is the object contemplated by book-keeping, it is clear
that that will be more or less elementary, or more or less complicated
according to the character of our worldly transactions, or the extent
of our commercial enterprises. Suppose, for example, that our trans-
actions are entirely carried on by cash accounts, then cash books,
either of the most elementary or elaborate character, are all that will
be required. Suppose again that we both purchase and sell on credit,
these cash books will no longer iorm a suitable medium for recording
either of these transactions ; we will require to be provided with a
Jay book. But these two classes of books are not sufficient. Aa

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teacher's text-book.

some of our transactions are for cash and some for crecTit, we must
know the state of our accounts with each individual, and this necessi-
tates our being provided with another book, called a ledger, in which
personal accounts are inserted under the name of the parties, and by
which we find at once the cash or goods due to them or by them.
This is usually designated single entry. But there are not only per-
sons with whom we deal, but things in which we deal, and this renders
it necessary to have accounts of property, such as goods, cash, &c.
But another class of accounts must also be recorded. There is the
current expenditure of carrying on business, the private accounts of
the merchant, the gain or deficiency, of prosperous or adverse circum-
stances, called profit and loss, and these, too, must be recorded in the
ledger, which is designated double entry. When all these transactions
are ftiithfully engrossed in these books respectively, not only can it be
discovered whether the merchant is solvent or insolvent, but the reason
or source of his being in the one condition or in the other. There arc
other books, such as the waste or transaction book, the invoice,
the journal, «S:c., but these are indispensable in a common mercan-
tile establishment. No real business can be carried on without thorn.
These three essential books, arising from the very nature of the
case, naturally divide this branch of education into three distinct stages,
which may be named accordingly, — 1. Cash book stage ; 2. Day book
stage ; 3. Ledger stage. These may begin with the most elementary
and proceed to the n'ost advanced. For example, an individual,
whose expenditure exactly meets his income, may open a cash book,
and this every one should be accustomed to do from the time he earns
a few pence weekly, that ho may know the distinction between the
terms debtor and creditor and the balancing of his accounts, or an
individual, who, by his own industry, has saved £10, and is about to
commence business, m.".y open a similar book on a more advanced
stnte, and so onwards. As with the cash book, so with the day book,
ledger, &c. These books, viz., the cash and day, ought to be sepa-
rately taken up, their nature explained by teacher and examples
furnished, beginning with the most elementary, and a scries of exer-
cises afterwards worked. Then the relation between the cash and day
book, and the ledger, the mode of posting into the last mentioned
exemplified, followed by such exercises as will involve the construc-
tion and the working of these books, showing by a carefid balancing
the various assets and liabilities under each. There are two ways in
which these exercises may be worked, — 1. The training uf the pupils by
tlie actual keeping of the books in school. They may be provided

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ART OF EDUCATION".

42&

ivith miuiature sets of books, and actually required to do the things^
to insert the real oi- supposed transactions, and balance their books
accordingly. Books of very small value would be sulficient for the
purpose. Whilst as good figures would thus be taught as on the old
plan, book-keeping would be acquired, an interest would be felt by the
boys, and a bustle exhibited during the half-hour of these real transac-
tions in school, resembling the aspect of a large mei'cantile establish-
ment. At first, of course, small entries would only be made of simple
transactions in purchases, sales, receipts of moneys, and banking
arrangements ; but, progressively, every variety of mercantile books
might be brought into reciuisition, and double entry in its most per-
fect form attained.

Boys so trained, not simply taught, might then present their school
productions as a claim to a clerkship. Though every mercantile house
has its own mode of keeping books, the principle is the same, whether
tliree, or four, or five, or twenty books are kept, and v/hether by single
or double entry. The other way of working these exercises is to take
them from a printed form of supposed transactions, such as are to be
found in the last part of Knox's book-keeping. These are judicic Ay
selected, and, if given out to be performed after the cash, the day
book and ledger are explained and exemplified, can hardly fail to
render the scholars familiar with the whole machinery of book-keeping,
and well qualified to keep not only their own books, but those of any
mercantile establishment, however diflicult or complicated.

BrANCIIRS that convey KNOWLICDGIC DIIIECTLY.

Oral Lesso7is. This exercise, both in its theoretic and practical
aspects, has been already considered ; the former, in the second book,
in answer to the question, " What is Intellectual Education ?" and
the latter in preceding chapter, in so far as its nature, subjects and
utility are concerned. We proceed to the discussion of another branch
of this latter aspect, viz. how oral lessons ought to be conducted. As
much, we had almost said, as the whole effect and benefit of the exer-
cise depend on this point, — its mode of being taught, we crave for a
little the special attention of our readers. We shall consider, first, the
purely object lesson, second, the word-jjainting oral lesson, and third,
the religious oral lesson. Under each head we shall make a few
general obscrva' S, and then give some examples. Thereafter, we
shall address a few words to trainers on the matter of preparation.

Observations on Object Les-sons. 1. In all such exercises, the object
exauiiued must be presented to the senses. Teaching by objects and

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pictures lias Ix^cn in use more or leas in all ag(is and in all circum-
stancos, and has been growing apace in these days. It is intended,
and is, in every way, fitted to impart greater clearness and impressive-
ncas to the thoughts or ideas we wish to communicate. It presents,
as it were, a kind of outline, so that we are able to contemplate the
whole in all its relations and parts, liut this mode of illustration is
something altogether diverse from the kind of object-lessons about
which we are speaking, diverse alike in its aims and ends. The
purely object-lesson, technically viewed, is designed for the cultivation,
and development, and strengthening of the senses. And this is effected
in no other way than l)y bringing the object or thing in contact with
the particular sense, and relying thereon for all the knowledge it is
fitted and designed to impart. Now, as our senses are more impressi-
ble, more flexiljle and pliant, when in a nascent condition, or before
they have reached their maturity, which is generally supposed to
be about the tenth year, it is evidently our duty to see that they
are exercised while in this growing state. The more the senses are
exercised at this period, the more will they be developed and expand-
ed, and the more serviceable will they be during the whole remain-
der of our days.

2. These exercises should be graded, beginning with the analytical
and going on throughout all the stages of the synthetical. Often and
again have ■ , e, in every branch of education, shown the advantages of
beginning wifh the former and afterwards proceeding to the latter.
And this should be specially attended to in the method of instruction
now under review. We have given in preceding chapter a list of sub-
jects with which the youngest children are perfectly familiar, beginning
with articles of food, &c. As their observational powers become
strengthened, the pupils may be gradually introduced into the syn-
thetical. In the consideration of the analytical, they have been well
exercised on the subject of form, and have had their attention drawn
again and again to the various parts, such as the sides, the corners, the
surfaces, «&c. They are now capable of looking at these separate and
apart, as well as straight lines and angles, with the figures enclosed by
such. Then curve lines with their figures, and so with solids, &c. The
subject of colour may be afterwards taken up, and both the analytical
and cynthetical be presented ; and so with other subjects, always taking
the realities first, then their parts, and then their properties or quali-
ties, in so far, at least, as these come under the cognizance of the
senses; and lastly, their similarities and dissimilarities, adaptations,
uses, &c. These may be all treated under distinct stages, and the

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best possible foundation laid for the higlicr exercises of generalization
and classification. Much incidental information may be imparted
relative to the matter in hand, as to its source or origin, as to its
nianufacture or production, as to its applications or usefulness. That
knowledge, however, cannot be considered as appertaining to the
(levelopment of the senses, but as belonging to the recollective faculty,
something to bo stored uj) in the treasure-house of the memory, to be
rendered available when the higher powers of the mind have come
iuto operation.

3. Anotlutr matter that ought to be attended to in conducting an
object-lesson is language, or the affixing the proper name to the object
examined in all its parts, (pialities, &c. We have often insisted upon
the propriety of principles going before rules, realities before signs,
ideas before words, and things before names, and we have as often
assigned the reason for all this. When, however, the objeci; or objects
submitted to the mind are thoroughly canvassed and clearly under-
stood, the api)ropriate names ought to be affixed, and pondered, and
reiterated till remembered. This will prove of greatest utility in all
time coming, as an index or remembrancer of the object or thing, fur-
nishing the most suitable food or material for the conceptive faculty,
and indeed proving of highest benefit for the future exercise of «'U1 the
powers. And who is to give this nomenclature to the young? This
is the special function of the trainer. The pupils, for distinction's
sake, when prosecuting the study of the thing itself, may use any
name they feel disposed to designate the whole or any part, but this
will in all likelihood partake more of a verbal description than a
technical term. It is then in every way desirable that the ajjpropriate
or technical term be applied and rivettcd in the memory, by writing
it on the black-board, by spelling and pronouncing it, by tracing its
derivations, or by any other means calculated to associate, in all time
coming, the sign and the thing signified, the reality and the symbol.

4. Much of this process should be carried on according to the
Socratic method, that is, the pupils should be guided from sense to
sense, or from one branch of the subject to another, by the asking of
questions.

In prosecuting our investigation or inspection of any object, it
is in every way proper that we do it orderly or systematically. The
first thing, evidently, that should engage our attention, is the general
appearance, the form, the size, the colour, &c. The next is the parts
with their properties or qualities. These subjects should be all noticed
in certain order. What that order is must depend upon the nature

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teacher's text-book.

of the object in view. Here come in the skill and the management of
the teacher in putting his questions in such shape as will secure the fol-
lowing of some fixed order. He may, for example, take first all the
peculiarities of the object or thing, and then the points subordinate
and common to all others ; or he may begin at the centre, and go on
in systematic order till he reach the extremities ; or, if it is an animal,
begin at the head and terminate at the feet, or vice versa ; or, if a
plant, begin with the root and proceed to the flower or seed, or, if a
building, take the exterior first and afterwards the interior. To guide
the pupils aright in all these matters requires the hand of the skilful
and experienced teacher. The questions he puts should be well
weighed, carefully digested and fitted to develop certain senses by
a consecutive and orderly analysis of the object submitted. And no
(piestions should be asked but what fall within the range of the per-
ceptive faculties, which, if they cannot be answered in the* most
idiomatic technical style, may, and ought to be in periphrastic form, in
round about expressions.

5. The answers should be given sometimes simultaneously, and
sometimes individually, according to the nature of the question and
the end contemplated. "We have more than once referred to the (lif-
ferent ends to be served by these two methods of answering — the
former being intended to cultivate and develop the intellectual faculties
through the sympathy of numbers, and the latter to ascertain the
amount of knowledge possessed by every individual pupil upon any
given subject. In the weekly or periodical review, it is well to pursue
the individualizing process, but in the regular object lesson, whose
grand design is to develop mind through the sympathy of numbers,
simultaneous answering should be generally practised. With this
view the class should, if possible, be placed in similar circumstances in
reference to the object submitted to the sense or senses, so that all
should have an equal opportunity of examining and testing its parts
or qualities by the same sense or senses. This is hard to be effected
at times, except with the sense of sight, and how satisfactory to know
that three-fourths of the knowledge we obtain of an external world is
through our optical organ. In our appeal to this organ all are pretty
much on the same level, and even much of the knowledge we derive
directly from other senses, is very much aided or supplemented by this
one. This being the case, we are almost always in the position of
obtaining simultaneous replies, and these, when practicable, should be
encouraged, that the greatest amount of good may flow therefrom,
that not only new facts may be elicited, but that greater capabilities

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■n analysis and in the nse of the observatioiial powers may be
acquired.

(5. In object lessons special attention ought to be given to physical
■exercises, both by teacher and taught. The younger the cliildren, the
more frequent the changes required. This iU'ises from the very law
of their being. Tlie growth and development of their body -demand
an extra supjdy of the vital fluid — the l)lood, and this can alone be
secured by its acceleration throughout every ]iart :uul crevice of the
physical frame. Nothing but the; exorcise of the various parts can
do this, and this is provided for by the law of the muscular system,
the law of contraction and relaxation. And, hence, the restlessness,
the all but unceasing motion of very young children ; and the indis-
peusable necessity of the change of employment of the young in
school, frequent recesses, physical exercises, marching to music, &c.

But whilst all this is necessary from the physical constitution of
the young, in object lessons, as in every other, something akin is
required on the part of the t-eacher in the conducting of these lessons.
What, we ask, is the cause that the senses of the young are so soon
matured, so early perfect. It is plainly because tJie young feel their
ilei)endence thereon ; they therefore use them, and tliis use strengthens
or brings them to perfection. This not only constitutes the fcundatJon
of object lessons, but imparts valuable instructiou as to their mode of
being conducted. It shows that the teacher should not only be ener-
getic, but actually personate the author, or rather act, theatrically act,
the thoughts or ideas he endeavours to present to the young- — the
attention he ought to give to the modulations or tones of the voice,
the various gesticulations or actions of the body, that these be in
accordance with the sentiments he expresses, the eye and every
featiu'e enforcing and giving effect to all he utters.

Examples of Analytical Object Lesmns. 1. Apple — llibston Pippin. Cul-
tivation of senses and ac(piisition of lan<iuage, with uses and lessons.

You can all tell uie the name of the object I liold in my liand . . . Ft is an
npplf. Describe its size . . . It is ofmiddliny size for an apple. What do you
think as to its form or shape ? It is round. Its colour . . . /,s' greenish yellow
m one side and didlish red on thr. other'. Now, who will tell me its parts ?
The stalk or stein, says one . . . It is short, says another . . . Slender, another.
It M' in a large hollow or carity, says John Thomson. It goes through to the other
dde, snys Mar\' Brown. Well, what is it called on tlM! otlier si<le . . . You
<lon't know, ft is called the calyx. How does the calyx look ? It is small
dosed, and set in a small hasin. Go on and tell me the other parts . . . The
outside and inside. Well, what name do you give both. Tlie outside is
<"!ilh'd . . . the skin, and sometimes . . . the rind, and the inside . . . the
flesh. You can tell the colour of the flesh . . . deep yellow, and the little
parts full of juice are called . . . You don't know — they are called, cells.
And what are tliese black knobs you see right in the cavity in the centrw ?

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TEACHER S TEXT-BOOK.

They are the seeds. And who will ti-ll me how it ftrcls . . . lite base is some
v)hat rough or nisseltj/, and the top is (/uite smooth. And how dot's it taste?
Jt is crisp, sap JaiiM-s Thompson. It has a fine sharp taste, sap IVt'u- Jolin-
Mtone. // has a rich Jiavour, says Jane Forbes, &c. And (hjes it smell V ll
has a must delicious fragrance, says »Tessie r>rowM. It is .strong .scented, says
another, and another, // has a very spicy agreeahic odour. And you all know
the uses of the apple V It is good for fond — nourishing. It is good for quench-
ing thirst. Will any ot" )'(jn tell how it i- prepared ? Soinelinies it is eaten
raw — at other times it is kded — at other times steiccd, boiled, i^c. l?ut can't
you tell me any othev use ? You don't know. Well, can you tell me the
use ot'the seed? To produce other apple tree.i. And what does the fruit do
U) the seed ? It protects it. Anythinji; t'lse ? // nourishes, S,-c. And what
•loos all this teai'h us in refi-ronee to the ("reator ? It furnishes ■ -idence of
the care of the (Jrealor in preserring the trork of His hands.

2. Object lesson on Coal. Bi-ingiug out, more specially, the (qualities of
the object.

You all know what this is. A piece of coal. Who can t«dl me some of
its properties or (puilities ? // is pure black. Anything else V It is glisten-
mg bright. Can you see tiuough it V A'o. Then it is not transparent, ami
if so, it nmst be . . . Opaque. John, bring a hammer, J ajijily it and it
breaks into a thousand pieces. You call tliis projjcrty . . . brittle. I am
going to throw one of these pieces into the fne, watcii what becomes of itV
It burns with a bright llame, and gradually bi'comes . . . red hot, and tlieu
... a cinder or ashes. This shows it to be . . . You don't know the teiui'
. . . combustible . . . like wood, or peat, or turf. It is then one .. . of the
infammahles. Do you know any other quality tiiis coal ptjssesses V l't'.s' — some
kinds of coal have a great deal of gas. This is extracted and liglit^ . . . ciliea
and dwelling-houses. Will you now repeat tlie tpuilities of coal V It is black
and glistening — brittle — opaque — combustible and gaseous. But it has another
property I would like jou to tell me. Can any tell me what that is. Well.
'■an you ti'll me whether it is a natural or an artificial substance ? It in
natural. Why do you say so V Because it is found deep down in the bowels of
the earth. What would you, therefore, call a substance found deep in tlic
(irust -of the earth . . . A subtetranean siibstance. Kow, all of you know
some of the uses of coal, or the purposes to which it is applied . . . It produces
heat, and enables us to preserve, even in the coldest climate, an equality of tem-
perature. What else is it good for V It lights our streets and houses. And
what else V It uiakes steam. And you all know what steam does . . . It
drives the steam engine . . . both on sea and laud ; and thereby enables niau
to gratify his nature as a social being. What else V It drives machinery
of all sorts, and thereby promotes manufacture and the prosperity of commu-
nities. The important lesson here taught is . . . the foresight of Deity ■ ■
for the welfare and comfort of man.

Another object lesson on the leaf of u rose — eliciting the materials, the simi-
larities, and dissimilarities.

What do 1 holil in my iiandV 'A leaf of . . . a rose. What do you
tiiink of the rose? It is a very beautiful flower. It is the queen . ■ . oj
/lowers. Who is compared to a rose lor beauty and fragrance? The
Lord Jesus Christ. lie is called . . . the rose of <haron. Now, who can
loll me tiie shape of this leaf V It is shaped like u. egg, broader at the om
end than at the other. And wn>' can give lue the proper term? Ovum
is the Lati. word lor an egg, and hence the word oval. The leaf then is . . •
ovate. And its colour is . . . green. Look now at the upper and lower
side. \)o you observe any difTerence ? They differ in a great many respects.
Who will tell me some of these diflerences ? In colour, the tipper side M
greener than the lower. Come and look through this instrument and tell mc

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whiit you see cm tlic siirtaci- of" the leaf? Wliat is the name of this instru-
ment . . . A 7uicrof<f(/jn'. Its use is . . . to show us what can't he seen with
the naked eye. WIio wishes to hM)k tlirough the ma<;nityinji; jfhiss V Well.
John, you see . . . A t/rcat iiiniii/ little slit.s, or holes, or upcnings. Yes, anil
tlio i)r()i)(!r name given to them is — breathing pores or stomata. You observe
two small cells covering them running parallel . . . Yes. What are these forV
. . . They allow tiie superfluous sul)stanee to es('ai)e — another word . . .
lo emporate. They open and shut . . . nvcordirni to the necessities of the case.
Now, in what plants do you think these cells are most fully develojied, and
mast easily seen 'i In plants that are nativi's of tropical countries where the
rains . . . arc jieriodical. Now, you can tell me the rejLson why the upper
siile is greener than the lower V The upper evaporates and the lower ul)S07'bs.
;ind tlierefore the cellular tissue is more compactly arranged . . . in tipper.
Do you see any difference between the upjuT and lower side of leaf
besides that of eolom- V Yes. What is ii V / see a kind of net-work ... a
(freat many little pieces . . . fhres runnivg up and down the (jreen matter.
(Parenchyma). You all know wlnit the ribs 'tvc in the body . . . Thetj
uphold it — bind . . . all the /)arts toijether. >) t, then, as the ribs uphold
the whole fabric of the boily. so does this beautiful and reguUir net-work . . .
support the whole suhstanre if the leaf. Now, who can tell me the name of
\t<i difTerent parts. T hold in my hand . . . the stalk — the leafstalk — called
by Botanists . . . Tlie petiole. And it is designed to suj)poi"t the real leaf
(jr the whole of this green part, called . . . the blade or limb, and some-
times lamina. What i\o you perceive on the margin or edge of the leaf? //
is furnished loith notches. These are like . . . ttie sharp pointed teeth of some
animals, and accordingly a leaf that has such points on its edge is said to b«'
. . . toothed, or, technically speaking, dentate. Yon see at the end . . . a
^vinll notch. Can yon fell me the term given to a leaf possessing this notcli
. . . You cannot tell. Kmarginafe. Here pai^s it along and tell me how it
feels . . . It is smooth, says Jane Muir. Tt is thin, says John Allan. It is
(•iisihj folded, and quite pliant. cV'"., says Mary Stewart. Now, who can
describe the uses or functions of the leaves? They perform the very same
office in the vegetable that digestion and respiration, or the nutritive organs
do . . . in the animal. These assinn'iate . . . the food into the very nature of
the animal. In vegetables, they convert the crude juice . . . info the very
nature of the plant. It is, then, an organized substance . . . part and parcel
of the plant. It need, therefore, be no cause of wonderment that the leaf
should be selectcid as a type ( f the whole plant. What is the lesson taught V
Proof of desi(/n on the. part of the Ceatoi .

4. Object lesson on Newfoundlanil Dot/, — eliciting comparison and leatl-.
iiig on to generalization and classification.

You all know this animal (teacher pointing to the picture of a Newfound-
land dog). // /■<' a day, and the kind . . . A Newfoundland. You have seen

other varieties of dogs, who will give the names ofsomeof them

Th*

shepherd's dog, the cur, the bull dog, the nuistijf the greyhound, the bloodhound,
pointer, terrier, lurcher, water dog, pug. iVc You can tell me more particulars
• . . abnut the Newfoundland dog. It is above the middle size, aid very stoutly
made, and of black colour — it is particularly broad and deep in the chest, and
strong in forelegs. Yes, James Nelsc . is quite right In saying that it is very
•itrong in these parts. Some of you can tell me the reason of this? Because
it drags its load principally by the chest. Yes, have any of }'0u cv(jr seen the
Newfoundland dog pulling a (b-aught of timber from the forest, and over the
snow ? / have seoi it pulling little boys on a .4ed. None of you, I dare say,
liave been in Newfoundland. If you were there in winter you would .see this
animal pulling a heavy load over the trackless snow with nothing but a strong
belt , . . round the chest. Now, who can tell me why this variety of dog is

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stouU-r in the chest tlian otluT (logs . . . Br.cau'^e it principalli/ uses thai part.
Yes, iuid is the principle, that whenever nnisclcs are used they become
stronger, a universalhiw in the animal kinjidoni V l'e.s\ This is right; and
who will tell me the lesson that you boys sliould learn from all this? That
the lurions faculties of the mind air, improved by use. You can tell me some-
thin;i else about this dog? Its hair or fur is . . . lon(/ and thick; and waved.
Ami the reason of this is . . . because it is a t'crij cold countri/ to which it
beluntjs, and it has often nolhinij to shelter it but its own natural covering.
Any other reason . . . You don't know. Well, you have all seen Newfound-
land doi^s diving and swinnning. Yes, I have seen our Carlo dive down into
the water and bring up the stone that was thrown into the pool. True, but they
have done far more wonderful things, tlu-y liuve hdd up on the surface sink-
ing cli'Idren, and prevented tliem . . .from being drowned. And you have
seen this vai'iety of dog (h)ing something else . . . Carrijing baskets and going
to the shop a message all alone, or carrying his master's slajf. You see, then, a
New'")iiiidland dog is capable of being trained to anything, and you call an
anim.l of this description . . . very docile and sagacious. And, noAv, you can
tell me on what organ or sense this particular race of dog mainly depends V
You can't answer this. On what, let me iusk you, does the pointer, or the
spaniel, or the terrier, in their main pursuit or emj)loyment, depend V On
their . . . .icetit. Yes, that is the act, but what is the sense . . . the sense of
smell, and that is seated . . . in the nc e. Now, you understand, sometimes
the Newfoundland dog would almost seem to read our thoughts or desires by
our features. On what, then, does he depend? On the sight. Just as the
greyhound depends . . . on its legs for its swiftness in catching the hare, ^c.
And the important lesson taught by this instinct in dogs . . . Tlu^ wisdom and
the gt)()dness of the Creator in adapting . . . the instinct of each sort of dog,
to its use or employment.

5. Object lesson. Friday's review of the preceding four lessons.

We have had four object lessons this week. The first . . . o)i the apple,
intended to elicit the knowledge . . . of all tlie parts of that fruit, with the
appro[)riate name of each. The second ... on coal, with the view of ascer-
taining . . . its qualities, in so far as they are presented to the senses ; the
third . . . on rose leaf, pointing out its similarities and difi'erences ; and the
fourth . . . on Newfoundland dog, taking its leading peculiarities and . . .
comparing these with others.

Now, who will tell me all that you saw, and telt, and smelt in the apple ?
Middling size, round, greenish yellow and dullish red. Now, its i»arts . . stalk,
cah/.v, .il'in or rind. Nixt, Hesli . . . deep yellow, cells, seed, base — 7-ough,
apex — smooth, taste — O'isp, rich favour, delicious fragrance, strong scented,
spicy odour. Its uses . . . as nourishment, <ptenching thirst, eaten raw, baked,
stewed, boiled — protects anil nourishes seed.

The next lesson was on coal. You all remember the (pialities . . . It is
black, shining, bright, opaque, brittle, combustible, gaseous and natural, subter-
ranean. Its uses . . . It enables us to preserve . . . a uniformity of tempera-
ture — /'/ lights cities and dwelling-houses — it makes and preserves the vapour or
steam for the propelling of machinery, with all its invaluable results.

Who will now tell me the instruction you learned trom the next lesson . • •
rose leaf It is ovate in shape, green in colour, more green on the upper than
on the lower side, covered tvith breathing pores for evaporation on upper side,
and absorbing pores on under. Another feature of the under side is . . • ''^
venation or net-ivork of fibres. Petiole ; blade, margin, dentate, point, emargi-
nate. Its use . . . leaf, type of plant — stomach and lungs of plant.

Who will relate all the peculiarities . . . of Newfoundland dog — how be
diffei-s from others . . . His great size, strength of hit chest, the blackness and
thickness of his hair or fur, his icondrous docility and sagacity, his dependence

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on hh siffhf nnd ears, ffc. And tlu^ orj^an by wliich he jjjets all tlii:' knowlcdfre.
'J'he setise of siffht. Ami the, lessons tau}rlit by ;ill this . . . First, Uie dtnuund
there!);/ laid upon us lo rulliucUe Ike senses by llie analysis of the various objects
mhmillcd, and second, the utility of instinct.

Si/nthetical Object Lessons. In the object lessons already given,
attention has been called to the sides, and corners, and forms of figures,
to straight, cnrved and crook(;d lines, as well as to angles, triangles
and squares, i&e. These parts are now to be separated from the
object, and discussed abstractly and systematically.

1. Object lessons on the position of straifjht lines. Yon see this rod. (the
teacher holds a rod in his haii<l) liow am I holding it V Up and down. John,
you will draw a line straight n|» and down on black-board. What is the j)ro-
per name to give tliis . . . None of yon can toll me. You draw it from the
top downwards. Tiie word that signifies toj) in Latin is vertex, — ids, and the
hne is therefore calletl . . . vertical. Again, in what way am T holding it
now? Stra!</ht alotuf. Janet, will yon make a line like this on blaek-lxyard.
This line is level or even with the horizon, and therefore it is calletl . . .
horizontal. And, again, do you see these two rods ? Ves sir. In wliat way
am I iiolding tliem V The one comes down on the other so as to malcc the two
openinr/s or angles, or the two adjacent anrjles equal. What is the name given
to each of tiiese angles V They are calleil rigiit angles — and the straiglit ver-
tical line that falls upon tlie other is called . . . Y(ju don't know what to call it.
Have you seen the plumb line used by the buihler? Yes. That line is
called in the Latin language perpendiculum, and hence this line is ealled
perpendicular. James, wdl yon make two lines on the black-board exactly
resembling tiiese.

lam again holding two rods in my hand, and how am T holding them?
They are neither vertical, nor horizontal, nor perpendicular. Could you,
Margaret, draw them on black-board ? Yes. And what are they like V
Thci/are like the roof of a house, made with a slope to let the water run off]
And what is the proper name to give them ? S/antinf/ or oblique. WIio will
now make on the black-board two vertical, horizontal, ])er])eu(licular, slanting,
curviid, lines'-' Please measure the distamu^ of eacli of tlu'se lines, and add to
each as much as you like at the same distance, will they ever approach
nearer? No, never. What is the name given to all lines that are e(pii-dis-
tant? They are ealled . . . You don't know. They are the same distance
from one another, and the Greek word that, has this miMinlng is parnllelon,
and henoe the En^lisli word [)arallel. Go and make all these linos on your
slates, and ])rlnt beside them the names.

2. Synthetic Object Lesson. Angles, Triangles and Squares, You all
know wiiat 1 hold in my hands . . . Scissors. " What are these t^^■o parts
called that shut when they cut ? They are called blades. It is by them . . .
the work is done. When I cut with them, what is the act ? You bring them
tO(jelher till they meet. When I receive the cloth to cut I then . . . open the
scisHors. Is the opening of the blades always of the same size? It is some-
times larger and sometimes smaller, according to t lie thickness of rrhat is lobe
cut. Will some of you draw on the black-board two lines to represent these
blades when open- Very well. Alexander, now show where the blades
nipet and the optuiing. Can any of you give a name for this o])ening. the
opening between two lines which meet in a point? You can't answer that
question. Well, then, I shall take another illustration. You see these two
pipes of the stove, tlie one is . . . vertical, and the other . . . horizuntal.
lou observe the opening where these join. What is this opening, which,

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when til' y moot, is liko a oornor. oallod ? I soo you don't know it. Tlio Latin
word that si<;niflcs a oornor is (irif/uUis, an<l lionoo tlio En<ilish word aufjlo.
riu' oponinfr, then, between two lines wlii<;h meet in a j)oint or corner is
I'aUod . . . an anylc. You must now see what <letennines the wize of the
oponin;.'- It is not the , . . Icnt/th of the UmliA, vou may extend them any
ien<ith witliout afloctin;; the size ofthe anf^h'. What tlionV It. In the dope
of the Klrdiijltt lines l/iat meet. Tiie opening is entirely r»'<rulate(i by these
hues. And t'rnui Uw. very natui'e of tlie ease tliert' are jiisl (lii'ce <j;reat ehissos
of an^h^s. If a vortioid line fiill jtorpondieuhirly upon a horizontal line, it
makes each of the angles . . . et/iuil, and the name given to eaoli . . . You
ilon't know. It is a right angle. Who will make a numbi'r of right angles
on the board. Who will point out all the right angles in this room V This,
which is the fourth part of a circle, is regarded as a type or mould . . . of all
angles, and all oUn'itt must be either . . . lanjer or smaller limn a right angle,
and whetlr' •': '-■ t no or another is seen . . . bg lengthening out the lines wher(
they meet. If smaller, it is sharp, and you all know the name of a sharp or
pointed object. The man who is sharp is said . . . to he acute. And, hencci
an angle le^s than a right angle is called . . . an acute aiujle. The one
larger than a right angle has a . . . blunt corner, an<l the Latin for that is
obtusus, and hence all angles larger than right an' ealh^l . . . obtuse angles.
Can you pen anything within an enclosure by two straight sticks or boards ?
No . . . 77a'etWt?it'.swi/-eiW<.sy^e//.wWe, and three straight lines, when they are
affixed to each other . . . enclose a space. Let me see you do it on slates.
Show it. Yes. Now, how many angles have you in each of these figures ?
Three. And hence these figures are called . . . Trianfjle.^, or figures with
three angles. These are measured in two ways, their sides and their . . .
angles. (Here develop the idea of an equilateral, an ifoseeles, and a soalcno
triangle, or a right-angled triangle, or an acute, or an obtuse, &c.) Here is
an atliis, who will describe it V Jt has all its sides equal, and all its ani/les are
right angles, and what is called in conseqiionce ? A square. Who will traiif-
ter it to the black-board ? John has made. . . . an exact square. What do
you call the space enclosed by these tour lines ... a square, and tiie lines
. . . the boundaries of the square. (And here the rhomb, rhomboid, jjarallel-
orgram, &e., are all devv:ioped afler the same systematic fashion).

Si/nthe'ic (fbject Lesson. On Surfaces and Solids. Here jiresent objects
with plane and curved surfaces. Here, too, develop the idea of solids in con-
tradistinction to hollow figures. Then take objects representing pyramids,
cones, prisms and cubes. Get description of their composition and parts.
Transfer them to black-board, analyze and systcimatize.

Word-pamtiny Oral Lessons. In the practical carrying out of this
essential element of our system, — picturing out in words, — it is well
that we constantly bear in mind the principle on which the whole
rests. That principle is simply this; — all language is the expression
of our mental operations borrowed from objects or things in the
external world with which all are familiar, — or from their combina-
tions and relations. There would be no use in the employment of
signs or representations of what is passing through the mind unless
these are understood by all ; we would still be as much in the dark as
ever. By taking these signs from natural or visible objects or thing?,
with which all, in a normal condition, are acquainted, all can under-
stand ; all, if the mental state is properly expressed, can apprehend

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what Is going on in its most liallowed domain, in its most secret, retired
recesses. It matters little what llio word is, whether a noun or adjec-
tive, that is, an object, or the combination of objects, or the qualities
of the same, or whether it be a verb or adverb, the condition, or »
particular property of that condition, or a proposition or conjunction,
that is, the relation between one obje<;t and another, all can Ik; pictured
out in words, representing the particular phase or circumstances of the
object or thing. But we must be more particular, giving, first, Ji
few })ractical directions on tlu; mode of conducting thene word-pictur-
ing oral lessons, and then furnishing a few exemplifications. And, in
the spirit of these preliminary observations, we would say

1. Picture out the natural or visible, and this will furnish the best
illustration of the truth conveyed and of the lesson enforced. If it is
a term that is to be painted, find out, if possible, its derivation, and
this will, in all likelihood, present the most appropriate illustration.
Suppose it is my duty to give to a class a verbal delineation of Christ
as the Redeemer of his people fi'om sin and punishment ; I first trace
the derivation of the word and find its root to be emo, I purchase.
emptum, j)urchased, with the prefix re, back, and affix fr, tlie agent or
doer ; and from this derivation I infer thai the word Redeemer signi-
fies, literally, a person who purchases back, ransoms or liberates from
captivity or l)ondage, or from any obligation or liability, by the pay-
ment of an equivalent. This furnishes an abundance of materials for
illustration. I take a case, or a number of cases, of individuals who
have acted in the capacity of redeemers, buying back property or
goods tliat had been deposited as the pledge or guarantee of a certain
loan, or liberating a fellow creature from bondage or captivity by the
payment of an equivalent; and, from the graphic i)ortraiture of these
cases, the pupils are now prepared to take a realizing view of the
conventional ini})ort of the term as applicable to Christ the Saviour of
sinners. Again, supposing that I wish to picture out, verbally, the
quality of an object, say trans^ ''.nt, I would pursue pretty much the
same course. I would find the derivation of the word, take an object
or a number of objects that present good illustrations of this quality,
and having deposited the idea in the minds of my pupils, I would then
give the term. And so with the condition or relation of any object,
or a verb and preposition. Even on the supposition that I got no
assistance from the derivation, I would pursue pretty much the same
plan ; first, giving a number of natural and familiar illustrations, and
•then applying these to the case in hand.

Leaving the region of vocables and going to clauses or sentences, I

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take up my {^liimmiir lying beside ine, I open it and the fullowfn^
sentence first eat(^hes my eye: — " Prepositions govern nouns and pro-
nouuH in the objective case." Taking for granted that tlie chiss have
had pictured out to tliem all the technical terms here employe<l, my
business is to illustrate and enforce the aflirnwition or sentiment con-
veyed. I picture out, in the first phuje, the case of tht; head of a house
controlling, or directing, or governing his family, or a monarch hi^
subjects, or an individual his tciinper, or the helm the ship ; and from
these illustrations the pupils j)erceive as distinctly with their mind's
eye as they do any object in nature with the naked eye, the affirma-
tion containe<l in this sentence, ' That prepositions govern, or demand,
or recjuire the objective case aftcu- them.
. But I am now to present to the class the word-painting of a subject
of considerable length, entitled ' the leaf of a pl.'*nt,' covering two or
three pages of the advanced reading text-book. And how is this to be
done? By seizing on the more salient features, the external coiiligii-
ration, the internal structure and the physiological functions, and by
presenting a glowing picture, around which tlie details and the circum-
stantial points will group and cluster. If all these features are to be
discussed in one lesson, it must oidy be iu the broadest outline. Then
they may be considered separately, and even hei-e the same course
w"ll require to be pursued, first, the outline, and in two or three other
lessons the details to bo gradually filled in.

2. The trainer ought to take all the benefit lie can from any figure
or analogy employed by the author. We hare often called attention
to the adaptation that exists between the world without and the world
within, between externj'l nature and our mental constitution. In the
former, though the two grand departments of the divine government.
the material and the moral, are different in kind, and, therefore, the
laws which regulate the one cannot be the same as the laws which
regulate the other ; but, in both, one designer operates towards the
accomplishment of one object, and, therefore, the laws which regulate
the one must be like the laws which regulate the other. From the
duality of creation, there cannot bt identity between the physical and
moral laws, but from the unity of the Creator there must be similarity.
Nor is it only between the two groat departments of the divine
government generically distinguished, that similarities may spring ;
within either department, analogies innumerable may be found between
one species and another, and even between individuals of the same
species. Between two parts of the natural world, or two portions of
human history, or two processes of mental effort, analogies may b*"^

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tracod, as well as between the evolutions of matter and tlie laws of
mind. And the word of Ood is as full of analopes as ITis works.
Tlio histories, oflTorings and prophecies of th(! Old Te.staincnt are
figures of better things which have been brought to light by the
Gospel. "The lessons of our Lord and his apostles teem with types.
Almost every doctrine is given in duplicate, the spirit is j)rovided with
body; a body clothes the spirit. Every fruitful vine has a strong
elm to which it dings, every strong elm supports a fruitful vine." It
is by the combination of similarity and dissimilarity among sensible
objects that science, from its lowest to its highest mc^aaures, becomes
possible. If all objects had been alike, or all had been dissimilar, our
knowledge would have been the knowledge of individuals ; it would
have been less than that of savages. The foundation of all knowledge
lies in the similarity which enables man to classify, accompanied by
the diversity which enables him to distinguish. Wanting these two
qualities in balanced union there could be no analogy, and wanting
analogy iiian could not be capable of occupying the place assigned
him in creation.

Now, all possess the capability of perceiving and understanding
analogies. Though it is developed in a higher degree in some persons
and in some communities than in others, yet it is inherent in humanity,
and consequently co-extensive with the race. Scarcely has the youth-
(ul mind become acquainted with any two objects or things, than it
traces the resemblances and differences, and upon this foundation, with
instructive propensity, [jroceeds to arrange and classify. These ana-
logies are expressed by various forms called tropes or figures of
rhetoric, or emblems or symbols. Sometimes it is a real similitude or
com|)arison introduced by like, or so, or as ; at other times, it expresses
the resemblance of two objects, by applying either the name or the
action of the one directly to the other ; as, ' God is my shield,' ' Thy
word is a lamp unto my feet.' At other times it is a combined narra-
tion of fictitious events, designed to represent and illustrate important
realities, and is called an allegory, of which the 80th Psalm, in which
the Jewish nation under the symbol of a vine brought from Egypt and
planted in the land of Canaan, furnishes a good example. And again,
we have parables into which human motives and actions go as constit-
uents, and in most of them the processes of nature are also interwoven.
If the thought or sentiment conveyed is illustrated by any of the
above analogies, the trainer ought to avail himself of the same, and
take all the benefit it is fitted to yield. If the illustration is borrowed
from objects or things beyond the sphere of his observation, tie

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trainer must endeavour to explain that euibleni by one with whose
parts lie is ac((uaintetl, and which bears some resemblanc(! to the
one in question. And if that should fail, to try another and another.
These similarities abound in nature, and hence the necessity laid upon
us to in.'ike ourselves acquainted with external nattire, to study all th«'
branches of natural science wilh their respective I'onieiKilatures.

.3. Elaborate that part of the illustration or figun; that bears most
directly upon the thought imparted. In this picturing out process,
and especially when there is a figure or an illustration, tl'-re are two
things that the teacher ought to have a clear apprehension of, —
1st. The thought communicated, and 2nd. The relation between it
and the illustration. For this purjjose the context must be fairly
weighed and ponch^red, and the exact meaning of the author scanned
and decided on. l\Iuch unf:urness is oftiiiitimes perpetrated, and much
vagueness and mysticism of idea prevail by individuals isolating and
regarding a passage in itself, instead of looking at it in connection
with the design of the author, and the scope or drift of the whole
piece or passag(!. It is only when regarded in this latter acceptation
that we are in a right position to consider the individual passage under
review, and to arrive at a sound intcrj)retaiion thereof. Then we
have a proper foundation laid for the aj)plical,ion of the illustration.
The teacher should eiuhtavour to inform himself on every [>oint con-
nected with th(i nature of the figure, whether it be a metaphor or
similitud" ^c. And he should do so, that he may be in a competent
positi n do justice to the part that lias the most direct bear-
ing on the thought conveyed. Here beginners and all unskilful prac-
titioners expend a great deal of useless strength. They take up all
appertaining to the figure, whetlu^r an object, or (piality, or condition;
descant at length on all the parts in succcjssion. and leave tbems'dvcs
little or no time for the discussion of that on whicdi the whole stress
depends, the relation between the thought and the illustration. It is
all very well to b.ave a few j:" .eral stat<!inents in reference to the
natural object or (juality [tolnt"d at in the figure, but all this should
be for the purpose of iin))arting greater power or force to the part
bearing on the ; bought or idea. As soon as possible get at that, and
elaborate it with the greatest earnestness and the most powerful
emphasis.

4. The trainer, in tins selection or manufactur<! of anecdotes or
analogies, should constantly have respect to the condition and circum-
stances of his fiohool. Oftentimes the trainer is left to his own
resourc(!3 in the fabricatij'j^ of an illustratioi., wluither it be in tlio

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ART OF EDUCATION

448

riitificiition of a fact or truth, or in the enforcement of a precept; and
in drawing infcM'ences therefrom, it ih his "Inty to se<! not only that it
is suitahle and apt in itself, but that it is in every way ojijiortnne and
l)i;littin<^ the occasion. Ih it lu^cessary, for (ixample, to hold up to
execration some crying evil, or the criminality of son.e particular
course of sin. It may be the intelligence is conveyed to the mind of
the tcadier that several of the scholars are given Ui swearing, or
lying, or the like. Whatever the private means ado{)ted to im[)ress
the guilty culprit with the criminality of the vice, (and this the trainer

M hce after) he will strive; at the same; time to hold it tip in gcMier 1
terms, without the mentioning of any names to tin; reprobation of the
school, he will labour to bring the best conditioned to pronounce a
verdict in the matter, and by that judgnKint g(!t at the consciences of
the guilty party. He will not oidy take a pr(!cept of the liible con-
dcnniatory of the act, but cull from the same record all the illustra-
tions he can possibly get to bear on the subject. IJeside this he will
bring all his own artillery to bear upon it, so as to awak('n in the
iriiiids of liis pu[)ils feedings akin to his own, and thereby to enlist the
whole sympathies of the school establishment in any punishment that
may be awarded. Here should the trainer be particularly studious in
seeing that the pupils themselves draw the conclusions or inferences,
whether of a more general or more particular character, that whatever
tiikes phu^e they may be hedged in by their own convictions, their
own calm deliberate judgments. This will give far greatru- weight
tliiui the most solemnly (snunfMated sentence passtid by the trainer
himself, or by any other individual or body of trustees. Having come
to a certain finding, and having pronounced a certain judgment them-
selves, they feel that they are committed, that they are bound to pur-
sue a certain course, their own dignity, self-respect and consistency
shut them uj) and constrain sweetly, yet forcibly constrain them to act
in acconhmce therewith. Hence, we see that this exercis<( is calcu-
lated not only to strengthen the intellectual, but the moral powers of
thoae who pursue it.

T). 'fere, too, nmst the law of gradation bo rigidly carried out.

In our past discussions wo have had frequent occasion t(j refer to
the gradual development of the intellectual facultitis. This subject
has been already discussed under the diflferent epochs of intidlectual
(levelopment. 1. The perceptive and cone(!ptive. 2. The imaginative
!iii(i rccollective. 3. The abstractive ; and 4. The reasoning, and the
law of adapuitiou to this j)ha.ie of intellect must be obey(!d in oral
lessons ay well as in every other department. The objective oral

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TEACIIKIt's TKXT-I500K.

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lessons aro in meet adaptatioji to the perceptive and conceptive, so
that we need say no more on this topic. The next epoch is tlie ima-
ginative and recollcctive ; and what better calcuUited to meet this than
the whole snbject of word-i)aintlng? What is every analogy hut a
direct appeal to the faculty of imagination ? Tii very proportion to the
strength of this faculty is our power in tracing similarities between
the natural and moral world, between the various objects in the world
of matter and that of spirit. The faculty that comes next into opera-
tion is the abstractive ; and what form should these lessons assume to
be adapted to this ? Plainly to trace the relation between one part
and another of the same object, or quality, or condition, or between
one object and another, or between one (juality and another, or between
one condition and another. And all this with a view to generaliza-
tion and classification. The last and highest development is the
reflective or the reasoning. This consists in the deducing of certain
conclusions from certain data or premises. And in what can this be
done more easily or api)ropi'iately than by oral lessons ? When one
sees certain data before him palpably conducting to certain indubitable
conclusions, he cannot fail, he would be acting in diametric opposition
to the principle of his nature, not to apply h.is reasoning faculty, not
to draw the conclusion referred to. And all these processes of adap-
l '''on to these epochs of intellectual development may be carried out
enHer through the medium of one subject or a variety of subjects.

G. These lessons should be mainly comlucted on the simultaneous
principle.

We have shown that this should be the case with object lessons,
and far more should it be with word-painting. The grand end of
these lessons is the discipline and cultivation of the intellectual fiicul-
ties by exercise. For this purpose it is of essential moment that
every ai)pliance and stimulant are brought to bear upon these faculties,
that they may be impelled to the uttermost. There are few things so
rousing or stimulating as the emulative and sympathetic principles.
That these principles may have fair play, that they come with full
swell, with all their inherent impetuosity, the exercise, whether in
answering questions or in supplying ellipses, should be conducted on
th simultaneous principle. Whatever reply is given, or wliatever
ellipsis is supplied, must be taken whether right or wrong ; if right,
to give every possible encouragement to persevere in the same course;
if wrong, to prove or show that it is so. In whatever way given, let it
pass through a process of infiltration in the hands ^f the trainer and
thrown batik upon the class in the shape of a question. Thus, whether

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445

right or wrong, the simultaneous process is encouraging and stimula-
tive to more st.-enuous effort. In this exercise the highest power is
put into tlie liands of the trainer. If he thoroughly understand his
business, by these lessons, where there are no chains or fetters to
bind him, he can put the very questions, or present such ellipses before
the class as will elicit the idiosyncrasies or peculiarities of each mind.
In this exercise, both teacher and taught have it in their power to
pursue an intlependent course, such a course as will expand talents
;ind increase tlie attainments of one and of all. There may, and there
ought to b(!, revision here as in the object lessons, and then the indi-
vidualizing process may be resorted to. Much in the waj' of testing
particular scholars may be done here by abstracts or abridged outline
statements.

7. Always aim and strive after the fullest accomplishment of tlie
end in view, the real exercise of the intellectual faculties. This is the
grand educational problem, in so far as the intellect is concerned. It
is an easy thing, both in physical and moral education, to exercise
wliatever organ of the body or energies of conscience we desire ; it is
otherwise with the intellect in almost all its faculties, particularly with
die untutored and undisciplined. With minds that have grown grey
in the service, and that can follow out by dint of their own ingenuity
;iik1 experience, there is no need of resorting to such expedients.
How to keep the youthful faculties at work in a continuous train of
thought is the task — the difficulty. The plan devised by Stow for
lliis purpose, viz., the questions and ellipses, not separately, but
together, contains, in our estimation, the whole secret of his discove-
ries, the whole burden of his practical sagacity. By questioning the
faculties are kept in a state of activity, ready to avail themselves of
^;very favourable breeze that passes. By ellipsis the particular power
is (tailed forth and exercised and strengthened. It is thus manifest
that the ellipses constitute the alpha and omega, the sum and substance
of the whole of intellectual training, confers a boon upon racntJil
development which no powers of arithmetic can estimate. With the
skilful practitioner the grand burden of his efforts will be directed
towards the management of the ellipses, to see that it embosoms real
tliought or actual ideas. The mere kind of guess-work, whether in
completing the syllable of a word after the trainer has imperfectly
articulated one or two syllables, or the inserting a word at the end of
a sentence, is literally no ellipsis at all, is a pure mockery of the prin-
ciple, the carrying out of intellectual training. Unless the ellipsis
contains a real thought, that is, a noun and its predicate, or more, it

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can make no pretension to such a claim at all. This, then, should
form the main effort of the trainer, and when he succeeds in this work
he is performing an intellectual achievement of which every well
conditioned mind may be proud. Subjoined are a few specimens of
word-painting. We begin with

Staf/e 2. Plon;/Iiin(f Children, you can all tell ine tlio season (May) of
the year . . . It is spring. Is it so In all tenipcratt; coiuitrics V No. la Eikj-
land spring is over and summer is begun. What is tlic reason of this? You
don't know this. Woiihl you like to know ? i/es, >/-s. It is because the
slope is uortliward in British America, and in England southward, which
makes the Avinters in the former far more severe and lonj^er. Well, it is
sprinfi;, and the farmer, as you come .along to school, is engap;ed . . . ploughbuj
in the fiebls. Who will tell me ail about ploughing . . . Two horses arc pull-
ing, says Jolin lb-own. / saw one horse and a team of oxen, says Peter Johnson.
My father has an iron plough with two handles, sjiys Jane Smith. Wlio will
d(!scrii)e all the parts of the plough V Here one describes the beams and
bridle, anotlier tlie coulter, ami another the ploughshare, and another the
mould board. (.\11 tliis belongs to the object lesson on wliich they have
received a lesson). Now who will tell me the object in view by this work?
Tt is to hurif the pnmr earth and hrinq up the good, says one. It is to stir up the
soil, say half a dozen. It is to put the nuinure into the soil and thus to feed the
roots, say a whole seat. And David Nelson cries out, / gathered up the roo'.<
of the couch gntss after it teas dug up last spring and had become dry. You
are all right, and you must all repeat these objects. (Here they repeat
siundtaneously.) Some of you will state the bcaiefits of this work? //
makes n nice bed for the seed. It allows the roots to grow d'ornwards into the
ground. It flourishes the roots. It takes out the weeds. Can you think of
nothing else ? I think there is a great deal of good done in a way that none
of vou have mentioned. Did you ever hear of people, and other animals,
suncring and being killed in coal pits and other ])laees because the air wa<
foul . . . that is not good ? Yes, I once read about the black hole of Calcutta,
says Mary McDonald. / saw a miner with a lamp in his cap to tell him in the
pit whether the air tras good, says one talented boy in the class. Now, seed, to
set it a sprouting, requires . . . gooil air as well as . . . animals. Do you
think the air would get to the seed if it were buried under the sod, or if the
earth pressed It down ? No. And now you see another bimefit In ploughiii;,^
It is to let in the air . . . by loosening the soil, rendering it . . . porous. Can
any of you tell me any <,ther way of cultivating the soil besides ploughing?
Yes. Cry a large number. Silence. Don't tell till all the boys on back seat
find out. Now, you may all answer at once . . . Digging. WIik vlll describe
tlie dUrerence betwetMi digging and ploughing ? (Here the faculty of com-
pariaon is called forth, the faculty mainly intended to be exercised in second
stage.) Trainer indulge h»^re as long as he likes, carrying on this process,
drawing a comparison between ploughing and digging, ploughing and trench-
ing, &c.

Stage 2. Lesson 2. Elephant. What animal is this ? (Trainer holding
up the picture.) An elephant. Then you have .all seen an elephant. Some
say yes and some no. Those of you that have seen an elephant, how did yon
know this animal ? We harf often seen a picture and read about the elephan'-
We have seen a lice one, say others? Where? In the fields? No, (laugh-
ing). Where then ? In the menagerie or collection of viild beasts, say some
of them, and others say . , . in the Zoological gardens. TIicti you can
d( ihc its form and general appearance? // is a very large, cluvuij,
unwieldy looking animal. Its size . . . about nine feet, though oJ)en higher.

AKT OF EDUCATIOH.

447

And what most iiikiroi-tcd y<ju wlu;ii you first saw (lie elephant. //>■ trii.nk\
'•ry some. Yes, tliis is a very woiulerful part of tlio iiniinal, woinlerfiil botli
lor its pow(rr and delicacy. JJy this instruinerit . . . it can root up laiyje trees
and lift a needle. Anvtliing else to be wondered at? Yes, its thick skin — its
■iiiiall cijes — its larr/e tusks, out of which ivory is made — its heavy head ami short
neck — its erect and revy stromj Jetjs. (All this des<'rij)tion lt(dt)n_iis to the
objective department on whieii the pupils have received lessons before.)
Suj)pose you saw tin? foundation of a house just laid, very deep and very
broad, the sicmes and cement of the most massive character, what woidd yon
inter regarding" tin- house to be erected thereon V That it iras to he very larye
and heavy. (Take any erection M'ith which the children an; familiar, and
picture out to them the relation). In what parts of the eleph.ant do you per-
i'civc the same relalion, a.s between the foundation . . . and h>nlding?
Uetwecn the strenyth of the leys and the enormous ireiyht of the body. The
body is, as you tell me . . . enormons for size, and would require ... or
tremendous powerful support. And is it so V Yes. The legs are like pillars,
■<hort and straight, each l>one almost resting the one above the other. Can you
toll me where tiie ele])haiit is a native ofV Of Asia and Africa. What can
you tell me about its mode of liie . . . It lives in the thick Jungles of tropical
forests, and moves . . . among the tangled masses of brush-wood, and feeds
. . . upon the twigs and leaves of tall trees as well as on grass. And what
would you expect it to have ? A very soft skin and prominent eyes would
you V No, (fuite the reverse. And so it has. It has a thick skin and very
amall eyes. You see, then, when you trace the relation ])etween the ha])itvS of
this animal, and its skin, and its eyes . . . another complete adaptation.
Again, you have told me that the head of the eb'j)hant is very ponderous . . .
m consequence of the immense tusks of solid ivory he wears. And would you
naturally expect from this a long or a short neck V A very short one. And
is this really the case ? Yes, we scarcely see his neck, and thus we have . . -
adaptation the third.

You can tell me the two great ela.<ses of mammals that exist . . . They
either live upon the Jlesh of other animals or upon grass. And are called . . .
carnivorous and herbivorous. To which of these great cla.ssi!s, do you think,
does the elephant belong? 7'o the herbivorous, it lives upon the foliage of
trees, and the grassy substances it can gather. But how is it to get at the
j^rasses or herhs with such a short neck, and ranging, as it does, from nine to
twelve feet in height? It collects the fruit, and grass, and branch's with its
trunk. The trunk is provided . . . for this very jnirpose. And this is
adaptation . . . the fourth.

But there is still anotiicr relation more valuable and important than all we
have noticetl, and what is that ? You don't know. Perhai)s you will be able
to tell me what makes the horse so useful to man ? . . . Because it can be
lamed and trained from its intelligence and docility to promote, in many irays,
his comfort and happiness. This makes it . . . exceedingly valuable. And
so with the elephant — both in India . . . and Africa. It is, along with its
(freat strength, not oidy the most intellligint, but tln' most docile . . . of
tropical animals, and therefore it can be trained . . . to do almost everything,
'0 endure all hardships, .so that man can use it in every way that can contri-
bute . . . to his welfare. Accordingly, the chiefs in I'.eatlien conntric^s use
the elephant . . . both for war and hunting. Now. tell me what we have a
proof of in all these nice adaptations ? Of the wisdom and the goodness of the
Creator, and all for our benefit. Ami what siiould be the cflect of all thia
i'(K)nus? It should increase our dependence upon, and our affection to the
i)tver of every good and perfect gift.

Stage 2. Les.son .1. A sketch oral lesson. Comparison between Duck and
flcn. Having compared one part of the same object with another, and

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.1:

gt.

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if:-

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havinj:^ scpii tlio adaptation that universally rcij^ns, tlic class is now prcparotl
to rro a stop t'artlitT, and to compare one thin<:; with another. We take tlie
duck and tlie hen with whicli fowls all are faniiliiir. It is supposed that a
lesson has been <j;iveii on eaeii of these fowls, in which, of course, all the part'
have been analyzed, and the jieculiarities of each dwelt upon at length. JJow
they are compared. 1. The legs and feet are first compared. — The legs of
duck inucii shorter than those of lien, because long legs would retard the
swinuning of the duck — Tlie position of the legs is diirerent in the duck frons
that of hen— In the latter they are placed about tlie middle ai^ balance the
body; in the duck they are placed farther back, on the same ])rinciple as the
oars used in propelling a boat an' ])laeed, not in the middle but a litlio
behind — Besiiles a greater weight in frojit enables the duck to plunge its
head more easily beneath the watei"s — Here picture out the eflect of this in
the walking of the two animals, the awkwardness of the duck and the stateli-
itess of the hen — Observe, next, tlie difference between the feet — Those of"
the duck are webbed, like all swimming birds — this sort of feet acting as pad-
dles or oai's for propelling these birds along in the water}' element — The feet
of the hen iire claws with sharp point'* or nails, and are just as well fitted for
its purpose, nrunely, scratching the soil in search of Avorms and other animals
for food. 2. Compare the feathers of the two fowls. — Those of the duck arc
much prettier and more diversified than tho-e of the hen, but if you examine
the I reast and the under part, you will see a thick soft down, eviiiently
intenf'ed to keep the bo<ly warm when exposed to the cold in swinuuing —
The hen jiossesses no such jirovision, and for an obvious reason, it is not an
aquatic animal at all — Follow (jut this idea. 3. Compare the bills of both
birds. — That of the duck is rouiul like a spoon, and that of the hen is sharp
and pointed — Both admirably adapted to the character of the food and the
way in which they receiv;' it — The former gobbles it up and the latter picks
it — The nostrils of the duck act like a pieve sej»arating the food from the
mud — The hen deposit.'* at once the food that nourishes into its crop. 4. Draw
a comparison between the usefulness of tlie duck and hen. — The points of
usefulness in each are pretty much the same — The eggs, llesli and feathers —
And yet there is a markecl difl'erenee between these; — The hen fiir outstrips
the duck both in the nourishing ])roperties and the flavour of the egg ; the
duck e(|ually so in the flesh and t('atlH!rs. ,''). What important lesson is taught
by this contrast? — 1. The complete adaptation of both to their respeetlve
modes of life, thereby displaying at once the wisdom and goodness of the
Creator — 2. All fitted to proinott; man's comfort and hajipiness. 6. What
the jM'actical im])rovement to be made ? — It is to exercise more simple trui^t
in God — If lie takes such care of these animals fiir more of you — The niani-
te.statiou of His love should encourage us to go to Him at all times for counsel
to direct.

Sfai/e 2. Sketch oral lesson, intended to prepart' the way fo r/eneralization.
The Hof/. The children of this cla.ss are supposed to have had one or two
lessons on the pigs, so that they are well ac(|uainted Avith its general appear-
ance, si/e, parts, qualities and usefulness, in this lesson the trainer stii-s up
the minds of the class to a sense of the va.st importance of the animal, as pre-
eminently the poor man's stock — as capable of subsisting and thriving in
every country, and as the most profitable of animal.« — And all lor the pur-
pose of inducing them to know more particularly about the animal. The
trainer has succeeded in awakening the attention of liis class, and proceeds t<^i
nuike them see, either from th'" j)Ic*'tire or a sp(>cimeu, that it 2)0.ssesses both a
skull and backbone, the former for the protection of the brain and the latter
for that of the spinal marrow; and because it possesses these two parts it
belongs to a large class of animals called vertebrata, conqn-eluMiding mamiiials.
birds, reptiles and fishes. The trainer then makes <nit the difference that

ART OF EDUCATION.

449

ilization.
or iwo

• stire up
as pre-
hiving in
Ithe piiv-
l\ The
|)C'Ocds U>
L botb a
\\w latter
parts it
LiuninalH.
luce tliat

Tiiis gonus a-

obtains amonfT tliose animals tliat have a vertebral column, in so far as tlic
temperature of tlieir b(j(ly is concerned, the nianimalia and the birds have a
tiMuperature of body (piite independent of the surrounding medium, and the
other two, tlie rei)tiles and fi.>ihes, have a l)ody under the influence of the.
•urroundin;^ mediiun, and tliat by reason of tliis diflerencc the tbrnier an-
called wann-hloodcd, and the latter cold-blooded. The hoir, then, is a warm-
blooded vertebral animal of the first class, mammals, so called, because all the
young of this class are suckled by tlieir motiier. The trainer will next show
that th(! liog is a qua<lru])('d, thereby belonging to the tii-st of two orders —
pcdata and apoda, or those animals that have teet and th.ose that liave none.
He will then inquire at the class Avhethcr the four extremities terminate in
}ingei*s or in hoofs — And having found that the latter is the cjxse, he will then
•peak to them of the two extensive tribes of animals called nnf/niculata and
uiii/iilata, or fiugctr (piadriqieds and liooted (piadrupeds — The next point of
iiKpiiry will be, whether the hog chews the cud, like the ox, or goat, or sheep.
or tk'cr. (Picture out this act and give the technical term rtDiiiiuintia.) It
(iocs not, therefoi'c, belong to this sublribe, liut to another, calhid Jic.llua.
wliose genera have thick skins, and are, therefore, called Pachrjdermata, such
as the horse, the eleiihant, and the boar — The horse luis a hoof entire with six
incisors in each jaw. The lioar has a hoof divid;;d with six incisors in each
jaw, The hog must, tlierefore, l)elong to the genus, Sus-
t'aiiiily has three distinct species : —

1. Sii^ Pahj/rousaa, confined to tlie Imlian Archipelago. 2. •S'!/.> Larva-
lus, the African b(«ir. S. Sn.^ A/>er, the wihl l)oar.

Of tiiese species the most widely distributed and tiie most important is the
wild boar. He is found in Europe, Africa and Asia, and the islands of the
Eastern seas. He is the parent stock of the domestic hog and its varieties.

The trainer will now endeavour to get his pupils to make out these differ-
ent steps themselves. The hog, then, IS, 1. A verteliral animal. 2. A warm-
blooded vertebral animal. 3. Chiss 1. Mammalia; 4. Order, 1. Pedata,
.5. Tribe, 2. Ungulata, 6. Subtribe, 2. Bellure — racliydermaia, and do not
niiui...^tc or chew the cud; 7. Genus or family sus ; 8. Of species aper.
Thus ei)iLomized — vei'febr-1 — warm-blooded — mammalia — pedata — ungulata,
•'"IS — sus — s^ieeies aper. liy this and similar exercises, the children
■ . • aatural ideas of generalization and classifieation.

o.i(y<? 3. Oral lesson adapted to children of thirteen years of age and
upwards, designed to exercise and develop their reasoning faculties, that is,
to train them from the use of tlieir own observational powei-s, to draw conclu-
•sion from premises or data laid down. Scliohu"s in this class arc supposed to
have gone through the two previous stages, and are well acquainted with the
|)lieiK)inena of common objects or things.

Regular oral les)<07i. Subject — I'lie bread ice eat. You can all tell me
wliat constitutes the ,staple food in all temperate climates, and indeed in all
civilized countries . . . bread. Bread made fi'om the grain called . . .
wheat. In consequence of tliis being the bread univei-sally used in these
pountries, it is designated . . . the staff of life, and it may be considered the
iTpresentative, or more approjiriately . . . the type of all vef/ctahlc food, or
more generally . . , farinaceous food. You know what is necessary to be done
to the grain before it is ground in the mill . . . It is threshed, and irinnoiced.
nnd kilned. And the fii-st thing done by the miller is to crush it . . . between
>he stones of the mill. Aud the next is the . . . sifting process. Tlie object
of the sifting is ... to separate the fine from the coarse, or . . . the bran from
'he flour. Does this improve the flour ? It makes it whiter. But do you
suppose that this exhausts my question or even contains its main drift? No.
Wiiat then V You mea i improve its streno;th, or the object for wiiich given

■ . its nutritious powers. And what use is made of the bran ? It is used

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for feediny horses, pif/s and other ajiimals, and sometimes applied to the land as
a manure. And what do you infer frou» all tliisV That it is a wasteful
expendituve of the Creator's (jifts. But you are told that this adds to tlie
whiti-noss of the flour, how would you answer this . . . We trould tell such
parties that theij ought not to judge from appearance, but look at the realities oj
things. The (lour may be dark, but it is both . . . nwrc wholesomt and more
nutritious. What is the first thing done by the baker, or, if home made bread,
by our mother, or sister, or maid-servant V It is to moisten the flour by pouring
upon it a (juantitg of water. This forms . . . dough, which consists of . . .
well, I scarcely expected you to know this. Have any of you seen bird
lime V Yes. J have used it and caught birds hg it. It is a . . . sticky look-
ing substance. Now, suppose you take the douyli and rub it against a sieve
or muslin cloth and allow a stream of pure water to fall upon it, so long a?
the water that passes through remains milky, there Avill remain on the sieve
a white sticky substance, just like . . . bird lime, and this is called gluten.
I want you particularly to n(jtici' this (the trainer hns a nuislin doth wliicli
he holds up to view). You call it . . . gluten. And wiiy do I want you to
know and remember this ? Simjily because it contains the m.'iin nourislunent
in all vei'-' <,bles, whether grain, or roots, or leaves. And what do you observe
at the Lottom of the vessel after the water has strained awhile? A ichite
powder. This is conunon white starch. In the flour is there a greater (pi;n-
tity of the former or latter of these ingredients? Tlie latter. On what jjrin-
eiple do you draw this conclusion ? Good things go into small bulk, aiuJ
so less gluten just because . . . of its value. This is reasoning , . . from
analogy.

What have yon seen your mother or baker doing next after making the
dough . . . putting in the yeast. And what is that '■' It is the froth or mcsK.
which rises to the surface during the vinous fermentation. And how is this
preserved ? It is skinnned, hermetically sealed, kept fresh by the infusion of
hops, and is admirably fitted to excite fermentation . . . in sacharine liquids,
and various farinaceous substances. This then is inserted into the dougli,
thoroughly worked, and a fermentation of the .. . rrhnle mass ensues. What
is necessary to add to the iidierent power of this substance, or that gives effect
to it? An increased temperature, a.m\ this must . . . be gradual. Accordingly,
your moti.er puts the dough in a place where its ti-mperature . . . is increased,
allows the fermentation to go on for ten or twelve hours. She then works it
thoroughly, and puts it . . . into the oven, that it may receive . . / greuler
heat, and when the temperature has reached the degree of boiling water, it
does not rise more or the fermentation ceases , . . What do you supj)0sc is the
cause of this ? The yeast ceases to act. And why so ? The heat destroys itf
power. Are you chemists enough to know this ? We kjini the different stage."
of fermentation. The starch is converted into sacharine juice, and this, by the
fermentation, yields alcohol and ca:bonic acid gas. As the gas cannot escape,
it collects within the glutenous dough . . . in large bubUes, and this renders
the dough . . . spungy and poious. What is the effect of this upon the
bread ? It lightens it and makes it far more digestible. How do you account
for the fact that no other meal will produce exactly the same results a?
wheaten? . . . We would infer that this arises from the proportion of the
gluten and starch.

The bread is now baked. Can you describe its character as it comes from
the oven ? It is sofl and tenacious. For how many days does it retain it?
soflness ? For two days or so. It then becomes free, and crumbling, and
apparently drier. Then it is said to be . . . stale. Is this because the mois-
ture luis evaporated ? No. Is there nmch water in the bread ? Nearly the
half- — 4.j in 100. Yes, quite correct. Has, then, this water, or a great por-
tion of it, made its escape ? You don't know. Now, suppose afler the bread

ART OF EDUCATION.

451

*^ia<1 beoomc qiiito stale, T was to put it ijito ji pan and put it into tlio oven iU
its old tenipi'iaturi', and then take it out afler it liad been in the usual time,
mi'l it looked as sofl and tenaeious as it<lid before, what eonelusion would you
tlraw y Cerldiiilif that the water had not mndr its escape. You air perfectly
rijrlit, and ean you tt^ll nu-. why it is retained . . . You have scon puni . .
Ve.". What do you infer from its apj)earanee ? That it ix veri/ impervious.
And it so liapptMis that a good deal of the starch is converted into this very
«iil»stance, and this retains the water. Bread is then . . . both food and drink.
And wliat is your view as to the wholesonieness of newly baked or stale bread V
/ know froiK e.Tperiencc that Ike stale is the more irholcsome^ and the reason is
because it i.s Jar kss trnuciovs. You would reeoinniend, then, those whos*-
dif^estive organs are delicate . . . not to eat new/;/ ha/ced. but stale.

Staf/e 3. Lessot 2. What is the predominating universal law in the ma-
ti'rial world V

You have all hcanl over and over again the story about the apple, how
that by the sini})le falling . . . of an apple from the tree, when Sir Isaac
N(!wt(jn wa.s seated one day in lu's garden, and the train of suggestion tn
wliich this gave rise, that world-renowned philosopher discovered the law . . .
o/ universal gravitation — that law which regulates ^ . . the ichole planetarij
system. What were the. views that prevailed befon; his day ? Did you ever
hoar anything about those philosophei-s that preceded him V Yes, Copernicus
first solved the problem of the system of the universe, by showinrj that the sun i<
the centre of our s;/stem, and that the planets move around him in circular orbits.
Under this theory were there any things inexplicable ? Yes, the change of
fkmetary velocity in different parts of their orbits, and the consequent alteration
of the apparent magnitudes. Who spent a whole lill' time in Lis attempts t<'
exj)lain these phenmHcna ; and the result was . . . the three familiar laws,
which in be considi'i-od among the most brilliant discoveries nijide in science
It iras t\ tpler. Who pla<'ed the keystone in the mighty arch ei-ccted by his
|)redece,ssoi"s, by the discovery of the law of univei'sal gravitation? It teas
Xewton. And this completed the theoi-etic view of the planetary system.
And this is called . . . the attraction of gravitation, and the operations of which
are inilueiiced . . . by mass, and distance., a)id measured by freight and rnotion.
It is (he great aggregating power, iniluencing alike the products of combliiation,
cohesion and adhesion. Will you draw the distinction that obtains l)ctween
the attraction of gravitation, and the three forms of this law just named ?
riicse are excited with a range so limited, that they are said to act . . . a>
hisensible distance,^, and the other . . . at a sensible distance.

Will you now describe the distinction that obtains amongst these various
furms of this law of attraction, combination, cohesion and adlK>sion. The first
is the most important . . . as it lays the foundation of all tht others. The names
given to it are — 1. The attraction of coml)ination, sonietimes chemical attrac-
tion, and sometimes . . . chemical affinity. Perhaps tlie most appropriate of all
these is the last. Will you describe its nature . . . It is that attraction, vjhick,
when two elementary bodies unite under its injluence, each element loses its cha-
racteristic properties, and the compound or chemical particles exhibit special
qualities. PIea.se show me in what this diHers from all other unions . . . There
*.-; the union of mixtui-e. Give me some examples . , Chaff' with graiti . . ,
Sand with clear ttater . . . Dross with metal. There is also the union of diffu-
sion. Give examples . . . Union of alcohol and water., of alloys and metals.
Gases and gases, §'c. And again there is tlie union of solution. Give ex-
amples . . . Salt and water . . . Sugar and tea, §'c.

Now, in what respects do all these difler from attraction of combination,
usually termed chemical attraction? The former can a'' be separated . . .
hy mechanical means, the latter cannot. When chemical action has really
♦aken place, whether in reference to weight or bulk, nothing can destroy this

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TRACHEIi S TEXT-BOOK.

hut . . . the power of elcctii;e qffiiiili/, that iii,h;/hrin(/iii(j in contact witFi the HCf.:
or chemical particle sonw othf.r l/Otlif f'lrr which atti/ one of the ini/redients has a
^troiif/er affinilif — //; other worils, one chemical art can only destroy another.
And liow doi'S cliomk-iil afliiiity <liHi'i' li-diii tlie attraction of cohesion V The
attraction of combination is ncccsHarily hctcroirenJHjiis, that is, it nniltiiilics tin
materials for the construction of nuisses, an<l niav he considen-d aa ((reliininarj
. . . to the operationx of cohesion. This attraction i» essentially hf)nu(;^eneouii,
l>uildin<j; up masses of one kind of particles, whether these \w elementary ui
chemical partiekis. Thus, the diamond is built up exclusively with elemen-
tary particles . . . q/'for^/i, while calcarious spar consists of three elements.
. . . carbon, ealciuM and oxyyen, in thv ibrui of chevnical particles . . . ofcarhon-
ale of lime. The characteristic features of tlie force of cohesion, when actin;;
lUirestrainedl} , are exhibited in masses beinj;' built up accordinfr to the matu-
rials . . . Tht^se ar<! . . . Definite — in fonn, density, hardness, elasticity, duC'
tHity, hrittleness. This form differs, too, from chemical affinity V)y its results.
heiny destructible by mechanicid ineans.

But there is another form of this law, called . . . the attraction of adhesloit.
This is an action exerted between certain ])articles, simple or compound, ami
previous to or . . . afer the operations of cohesion. The particles or masses maj
be similar or . . . dissi)niliir. See in the case of solids adlu'ring to solids, licpiid*
to liquids, airs to airs, solids to li(juids, solids to ail's, licjuids to airs. This also
dilVers from all the others; it ditTei-s from (gravitation, because it i.s contracted

. . at insensible distances — from chemical alKnity, because destructible b)
meehanical means, and the particles cominjji; together, though difTerent, . . .
remain unneutralized, adhere to one another . . . without being neutralized.
Hut this law not only governs the fbrmatiou of all aggregates at insensiblt-
tii.-tances, as well as over the solar system. It also governs the systems of tin
universe. What is the opinion generally entertained regarding the universe'.'
That thefxed stars are the suns or centres of other systems. Of these stars lio\\
many are visible at the equatoi- V 5,000. Tlie whole nmiiber down to the I
magnitude is . . . 15,000. The total number visible by means f>f the liost tele-
scope is . . . 500 billions. Prodigious as is this number, it will bo Indeflnitf!}
increased as the powei-s . . . of the telescope are extended. And when we
consider that each of those is surrounded by innumerable plant;ts, and that
both these stars witli their accompanying planets are preserved In their orbit.*
. . . by the same great laic, we cannot fail to perceive . . . the unicersalily cj
this law. And how appropriate the language of the poet, —

" The very law which ni«uWs a tear.
And bids it triclile from its source,.
That law preserves the oartli a sphere.
And guides the planets in their course."

Stage 3. Lessm S. Why should the .school-house be better ventilateis
tliau any other building?

Do you understand what it I« to have a room well ventilated? Yes, it is to
hare n dne supply of gooil fresh air. By fresh air you mean . . . jnst fiooil
atmospheric air, that is . . . air made up of the same ingredients as you hem
in atmosphere. But it may be the same ingredients aiwl yet not pure. Thesi
ingredients nmy not he in the j)roj)er proportion. What is the in'oix)rtion '
For 21 parts of oxygen per cent, there jnust be 79 of nitrogen, with an imj r-
ceivahle (piantity of carbonic acid gas. This niakes it . . . pure atmospheric
air. Is this of incalculable moment for our health and comfort ? Yes, oj
inore moment than the fyod we eat or the drink ?<'e consume. Why so ? Becnnf(
■neither the food we eat nor the drink we consume would be assimilated or become
part of our eery physical nature, unless there was this very proportion . . . and
theref ' they would not go ... /y our nourishment. Can you explain tht
reaso.. Jiis proporti'm being necessary i Well, I shall try to do so. WLei?

ITT:
(

AKT OF EDUCATION.

Ah:)

iK' Tonons hlood, wliioli is the cono^'ntratctl (>sfi(»)CO nf tlio food, rjocs into tJic
limps, it Is mainly matU' np of <'arV)onii' acid {jas. These two ffixsos must be
<l(!C'oni|)Osed, or, at leiist, such a (quantity of tlie oxyjien liluTUted as will
vitalize what is necessary, and the rest is returned hack to the atinos))here.
Notliin;^ short of this jn'oportion will etTect this object; that is, will liberate a
due supply of tl»e oxygen. When this pro])ortion oxiHts in the air inhaled,
the blood in the lunys is . . . vital or oxj/yeii, is then diffused throufjli the
iirterii's orrr the whole bod;/, and so nourishes our frame. What do y(ju infer
from all this ? That ire are far more dependent on the nir we breathe than on
the fond or drink ice consume.

Now, can you tell me in what houses the <fri!at»'st provision should be made
fiir an ample measure of ventilation ? Those bnildinfis n^hrre the greatest
fjunntiti/ of oxiff/en is consumed, the largest amount of carbonic acid tiuimifuC'
lured and ejchaled, and where an impure atmosphere is most ^cleterious. And
tliat is . . . the school-hnnse. Tlic inmates of a commo i dwelling-house,
whether in the kitchen or parloin*. ar(^ generally . . . feic in number and not
long in one situation, and have everg now and then th/; o/iporlunilg of iuhiding
fresh air. A hall or j)laee of public resort is only o<.'cupied . . . some ttvo or
three hours of an evening, and that only occasionallg. A church is generally
occupied . . . but one dag in seven, and the grand ma.is of those who occupg
it are composed of those who arc fullg grown. The school-house, which is
more frequently too small than too large in jiroportion to the population . . .
is rtccupied five or six dags everg iveeh, and that for five or six hours a dag.
What consumei-s of oxygen, what maniftacturei-s of earlwnic acid gas ! They
are moreover wcupied by those who are . . . in a growing condition, and by
(.'onsequence every part of the frame . . . inore snscrjilihle of noxious influences,
and the most di'licatc parts liabh; to be damaged or injured. The employ-
ments, too, of the young in school, rf^quire that tlu^ brain, the most delicate part
of our physical organization . . . retptire a more health g supj>lg of the vital Jluid,
<irt(t that simplg because a greater demand is made upon it. And you would
infer from all this . . . that a large amowd of the seeds of the diseases bg which
the human familg is cut off is .sown in school. And still farther, you would
infer from all this . . . that far more amjile provision shoidd be made for the
centilntion of school-hoit.'tss than of any other buildings, not only of dwelling
houses but of public places of resort.

Word-picturinrj Oral Lessons. Religious Snhjects. Under Moral
Education we have discussed the general principles involved in this
section, and in the preceding chapter we have pointed out the nature,
the position, tho benefits and the order of procedure, in which religious
subjects should be presented to the minds of the rising generation,
and might here proceed at once to lay before our readers a few exam-
ples on the mode of carrying these out. Still, notwithstanding the
risk of repetition, it may not be amiss, before giving these examples, to
present a few general statements on this practical department.

1. We would first press upon every trainer, before discussing any
Bible topic, the indispensable necessity of obtaining a clear and vivid
apprehension of the meaning of the passage or sentiment conveyed.

This is exceedingly desirable under all circumstances, but it is
especially so when we have to do with the words of the true and
faithful witness. Here everything is absolutely true, every declara-

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lion is perfect as its author. Tliere are truths revealed iu the Bible,
which our finite minds shall never fully comprehend ; there are others
hard to bo understood, which they that are unlearned and unstable
wrest, as they do also the other Hcriptures, unto their own destruction ;
and there are others apparently inconsistent and contradictory, which
recjuire much patient study, much searching examination, and a clear
discernment of the general scheme of Christianity to reconcile and
satisfactorily explain. Bat altogether independent of these and such
like, there is a large number of passages, of whose exact import con-
siderable doubt, and uncertainty, and indefiniteness obtain. This last
mentioned class of passages, constituting a large number of the whole,
h the one to which we mainly point, which all scripture trainers
should endeavour thoroughly to understand; — so to understand
as that they shall be able by analogy and illustration, with which all
are perfectly familiar, to bring home to the understanding and hearts
of the young of every grade and complexion. The Bible is pre-emi-
nently its own interpreter. Not only hath it promulgated the most
pi«ecious truths, touching the highest destiny of man, the glories of
our Creator and Saviour God, and the principles of His government,
but it hath also enunciated, in the plainest and most explicit terms, a
way in which all may arrive at a knowledge of its general contents
and of its particular facts. For this end two grand agencies have
been appointed in wisest adaptation, alike to the interests of humanity
and divinity. The first is the honest and legitimate use of all natural
means and appliances, collating and comparing one passage with
another, one truth with another, &c. ; and the second is a humble
dependence on the spirit of truth — that spirit by whom the sacred
penmen spake as they were moved. These two agencies, when faith
fully and honestly plied, are in every way competent not only to
impart the exact meaning of the passage or truth conveyed, but to
deduce the most logical conclusion from any given passage, in adapta-
tion to any particular practical case. Now, it is the high function of
the scripture trainer to avail himself of these auxiliaries, and never to
attempt the exposition of any passage, or doctrine, or truth, without a
clear and distinct apprehension of its meaning.

2. Having arrived at a clear and precise view of the passage or
truth to be expounded, the next point is to establish, illusirate aud
enforce the same by the analogy or figure of speech employe*- by the
sacred penman, or constructed and elaborated by the trainer himself.

We have more than once referred to analogy in its nature, its origin
aud its utility, as the foundation of aU science, aud as the best perpetu-

ART OF EDUCATION.

455

ssuge or
■ate aud
by the
liimself.
origin
)erpetu-

ating conservator of moral and spiritual conceptions. We have again
and again pointed out the tribute levied upon it in the sacred scriptures*
showing that, just as the whole visible world is only a parabolic repre-
sentation of the invisible, so is revelation but one gorgeous picture
gallery, studded and embellished with every scene and feature that can
impart embodiment and eluc'dation to the truths it propounds and the
lessons it enforces. But we cannot again open up this subject. We
have introduced it here for the specific object of calling attention to
the admirable appropriateness, the all perfect and all glorious suitable-
ness of every image and metaphor employed in our great statute book,
and the consequent supreme obligation resting upon every trainer to
trace and elaborate the bond of connection subsisting between the
thought and the visible representation around which it clusters.
Man, in his imaginative flights, sometimes succeeds in culling a befit-
ting analogy from the scenery around, but he as often fails alike in his
conception and execution. In the Bible all is perfect — divinely per-
fect. Here everything bears the impress and mould of infallibility.
No pretensions to science, and yet the most distinct and manifold
indications of the possession of that knowledge on which all science is
based, cropping out at every crevice and corner. And if the adapta-
tion is so apt and so complete, the grand duty of the trainer is to
bring out and glorify the link that unites the figure and the idea.
How many expatiate at length upon the figure, describing its parts,
properties and qualities, and yet give but a passing notice to the par-
ticular point upon which the whole utility and beauty of the emblem
rest, or, at least, attach to it no other prominence or importance than
is done to the surrounding parts or qualities ! In that beautiful
emblem, for example, " As the hart panteth after the water brooks,
80 panteth my soul after Thee, God," how often have we listened
to the most beautiful descriptions of the animal, its characteristics, its
habits, and its usefulness, without any particular prominence being
given to the condition of the animal when, after being pursued by the
huntsman for hours under the influence of a tropical sun, it first
espies from some crag or eminence a small brook of crystal water
welling forth from its base, in which, or in a similar one, it has often
bathed and been refreshed. This plainly ought to constitute the grand
burden of the application of the figure to the illustration of the thought
herein embodied ; and so with innumerable emblems. Not that the
trainer is not to avail himself of every means of obtaining all the
information he possibly can relative to the object or thing from which
the illustration is taken, or tliat he ought to say nothing regarding its

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•general characteristics. Quite the reverse. But all the knowledge
of the object he has accumulated, and his delineations, however correct
and eloquent, should be brought to bear upon the point set forth — the
bond of connection between it and the idea communicated. Nothing
will test this better than the reiterated application of the corresponsive
conjunctions, as and so. In the use of these conjunctions the trainer
may appear somewhat mechanical to some, still the practice will be
found upon the whole highly beneficial and salutary.

3. Here, as in secular subjects, gradation is indispensable.

In the brief programme of religious subjects we have already given,
we have indicated some order, the necessity of adapting ourselves here
as elsewhere to the stage of mental development of those we are
instructing. Looking at the matter generally, perhaps a four-fold
•livision of the rising generation is sufficiently minute, the first
embracing all from 4 to 6 or 7 years of age, the second from 7 or 8 to
10 or 11, the third from 10 or 11 to 14 or 15, and from that upwards.
As already indicated, the youngest division should have Bible stories
both from Old and New Testament indiscriminately presented in the
shape of oral lessons, simple emblems and plain precepts. The second
division, embracing scholars able to read either the Old or New Testa-
ment with considerable fluency, should bo directed in their studies so
as to obtain a knowledge of the leading events of sacred history, both
in Old and New Testament, in consecutive arrangement, with dates
and places, and the emblems and precepts more fully detailed. Here
the truths of revelation should be presented in a somewhat systematic
order. A catechism, containing a compendious view of the dogmas of
any one section of the visible church, cannot be used in a public or
national school ; but it were no difficult task for the teacher to con-
struct, through the medium of the emblems and precepts, a systematic
embodiment of scripture doctrine, analytically arranged, with the two
leading truths of man as a sinner and Christ as a Saviour held promi-
nently forth. In the third stage, the whole of the subjects in the pre-
ceding may be continued, more elaborately discussed, more copious in
detail, and with certain modifications, such as the system of Bible
truth synthetically arranged, beginning with the person and character
of Deity, and then proceeding to an outline of His operations in nature,
providence and grace. The principal new elements here introduced
is the tracing of the various connections and relations that prevail iu
sacred as in natural things, in adaptation to the development of the
youthful faculties ; — such as the connection between Old and New Tes-
tament, between prophecy and fulfilment, between sacred and civil his*

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ART OP EDUCATION. 457

tory, between the external and internal, the historical antl experimental
evidences. The fourth stage embraces the age of the youth generally
found in the weekly Bible class of the minister of the gospel. Here
the emblems and precepts are still continued, more fully and experi-
mentally expounded — Bible narratives, perused with a more specific
reference to Jewish customs and antiquities — Bible geography —
Ecclesiastical history, and specially the history of the great leading
countries that have sprung up at different ages. But the grand theme
that ought here to be mainly studied is a historical exegetical and doc-
trinal examination of one or more of St. Paul's epistles to the churches,
say the c{)istle to the Hebrews or Romans. Here there is scope for
the hi'rhest exercises both of the scholar and theologian.

But we have said enough on this topic. It is more in harmony with
the train of these observations that we say a few words on the subject of
method. Fi'om allusions incidentally made, the inference must already
be drawn that much use is here made of the principle so often referred
to, namely, * teaching by outlines.' This principle may be exemplified
as frequently, and with even greater effect in religious than in secular
subjects. There is a peculiar adaptation in the mode in which Bible
truth is made known to all ranks and conditions of life, to all ages,
young, middle and aged, to all minds, disciplined or undisciplined,
learned or unlearned. Teaching by outlines is in beautiful concert
with this adaptation process. By taking hold of the more propainent
features, and getting these incorporated into the juvenile mind, we are
but accommodating ourselves to it. And as the mind unfolds, we
present not only fuller details of the same truth, but we present them
in a way by which we operate on the powers of comparison, of gene-
ralization and classification. And rising to a higher platform, we can
present the identical truth in a way in which our hearers shall be
constrained to draw certain conclusions from certain data, and thereby
to exercise their reasoning powers. Thus it is clear in conducting
oral lessons we may employ the very same doctrine, or precept, or
narrative, with all the different stages of mental development, adapting
ourselves to each stage by the mode in which we treat it. In the
meantime different books are being read, and collateral subjects are
being handled, all in adaptation to the stage of intellectual and moral
development. Here is displayed the whole philosophy of the expe-
dient of questioning and ellipses. Not only are the questions put,
more difficult as the trainer advances to a higher platform, to minds
more fully developed, but the ellipses are still more suitable. It is by
them, especially, that the skilful trainer adapts himself to every pecu-

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liarity of faculty, and to every grade or stage of advancement. He
works the class up to the very point, in which they are shut in and
compelled to trace the similarities or the differences, to see as with the
naked eye the analogy, and thereby to strengthen both the powers of
imagination and abstraction.

4. The historical facts of the Bible should be so blended with
its doctrines and precepts that they shall mutually illustrate and confirm
one another. '• The Bible," says Bishop Butler, " is the history of the
world as God's world." it does not reason out the truths and duties
of religion, but manifests and exemplifies them. The great proportion
of the Old and New Testament is historical, and what is not, is the
exposition or the spirit of its facts.

In pursuing this course, in adopting this mode of revealing His will,
in preferring biographical and historical to abstract, didactic, logical
statements, the Almighty has wisely adapted Himself to a great prin-
ciple in our sensible and imitative nature, and thereby rendered its
intimations all the more powerful, all the more persuasive. Bible
doctrines are not abstractions, not the creatures of logical but histori-
cal, practical realities. Each doctrine brings its own evidence in its
own class of facts, and points its own spiritual lesson. Whatever con-
firms the history confirms the doctrine, so that our faith rests not only
on the sayings of God's word but on its facts, some of which have left
their traces in all past history, and in all the world. You may kill
men, said one, but you cannot kill things. These address themselveg
equally to the imagination, the understanding and the heart ; and how
powerful, how infiuential are they in reanimating our faith, in inflam-
ing our love, and in exciting our zeal. And this style or method i?
better adapted to, is more constraining with the young. They are
more under the influence of their senses, of the principle of imitation
than the adult of the population, and by consequence these biographi-
cal and historical sketches produce upon the youthful mind a fsir
deeper and more lasting impression. The argumentation may be
powerful or the didactic statements most logical, but they will not
produce one-half the effect of the pathetic and melting biographical
sketch, or of the daring and ennobling act of magnanimity detailed on
the page of authentic history.

And now is it asked, how is this method of revelation to be ren-
dered most extensively beneficial, most largely available to the rising
generation ? Wo just say, in reply, follow the course which the Bible
itself plainly indicates. First, familiarize the minds of the young with
the biographical or historical fact or facts, paint these in their fullest

ART OP EDUCATION.

459

embodiment, their most embellished form, their liveliest portraiture.
2. Insist upon the class deducing themselves the lesson or doctrine
plainly and unecjuivocally conveyed by these facts. If they cannot do
this, they have not yet seen with their mental eye the living picture ;
and whatever may be the toil or cost, it must again be presented in
more vivid colours, aye, and until the doctrine taught is distinctly
apprehended and fully enunciated. 8. Apply the truth taught to the
circumstances of the class, both generically and specifically.

5. These doctrines, that they may stand forth in all their intrinsic
and relative worth and glory, should be arranged and considered both
analytically and synthetically.

Though, as we have just stated, these doctrines are not presented to
us in abstract consecutive form, they are nevertheless clearly deducible
and distinctly couched. These doctrines are apparently without order
and system, and yet there reigns throughout the most perfect order, the
most beautiful system, only requiring the wielding hand of the method-
izer to render them so. There are two ways by which this may be
effected. They may be arranged either analytically or synthetically.
When arranged analytically, they take man as he is, a sinner by nature
aud by practice — and then the salvation provided ; in other words, they
discuss first the disease and then the remedy. When arranged syn-
thetically, they discuss the person, the character, the perfections aud
the decrees of Deity, and under the execution of the last of these they
disclose all the operations of His hand, in creation, providence and
grace. The former is the more natural arrangement, the more simple
und direct. The latter is the more logical and scientific. Here, as
elsewhere, the analytical should go before the synthetical ; man must
first realize his position as a sinner before he make any movement for
deliverance therefrom ; he must first feel his wants before he sue for
supply ; his need of the gospel salvation before he beg for an interest
therein. And what is necessary hero but to appeal to the experience
of the young as illustrated by the findings of the divine testimony, to
ply them with declaration upon declaration, with line upon line, show-
ing that all are by nature in a state of guilt, of corruption, of proueness
to that which is evil, and aversion to that which is good ; and along
with this class of appliances to present passage upon passage, saying
upon saying, all for the purpose of discovering the adaptation of the
gospel salvation to their state of misery and condemnation, the suitable-
ness of the balm that is in Gilead to the disease that is rankling and
rioting throughout their whole nature. In all this they are profoundly
interested, and that just because it is more than au empty speculation,

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or an idle notion floating in the brain, and therefore it comes home to
them as a something with which they have to do, directly involving
their present and everlasting welfare. And this, accordingly, is the
form in which systematic theology should be first presented to the
youthful mind. We take for granted that system here as elsewhere is
highly beneficial, that looking at any subject, not individually merely,
but relatively, impresses it more powerfully on the mind, and sends it
home with tenfold force. Having gone through such a course, they
are prepared to proceed to a more advanced style of systematizing
that which is synthetical^ the style usually pursued in all systems of
divinity, such as we have in the thirty-nine articles of the Church of
England, or the Confession of Faith of the Westminster Assembly,
or the Larger and Shorter Catechisms, and other similar writings.

6. But the grand point in all these religious exercises is the prac-
tical application. It is in every way proper that we use means to
impress the understanding, the heart and conscience with the truth
or doctrine taught, that we present it, not in itself merely, but rela-
tively, to the minds of those we seek to influence. But this is not
enough ; it is but a means leading to a certain end, and that end is the
reducing of the whole to practice, the exemplification of the doctrine
in our every day walk, the manifestation of it in the words we utter
and the acts we perform ; and this end must be held up to the
gaze and admiration of the young, it must be realized by the teacher,
and felt to be as binding upon him. aye, as coming with more weighty
obligations upon him than even upon his scholars. This is the culmi-
nating point, the crowning glory of our system. This is the aim and
end in every department, whether we regard man physically, intellec-
tually or morally ; and here, pre-eminently, the teacher must be the
archetype, the model.

We subjoin a few exemplifications of the various exercises under
stage first. From the directions given, the intelligent trainer can,
with a little study, follow out and give examples under the different
stages. Should life be prolonged, these exercises will be fully elabo-
rated in the Sabbath School teacher's text-book. The printing iu
italics, as usual, contains the answers of the pupils after the mark o'
interrogation, and the supplying of the ellipses after the dots ; when
not in italics all is done by the trainer.

Staged. Lesson 1. Bible Story. The preservation of Noah and his house-
hold amid the waters of the deluge.

You have all seen or heard of a freshet or . . . flood, or . . . deluge. Who
will describe some of its effects ? It sweeps along tcith it trees, and fences, and
barns, and fioiises. Sometimes it is far more destructive and ruinous, it carries

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away Into the ocean . . . the whole crop of the farmer, !ioinct\mcs . . . all hw
ra/^^e, and sometimes . . . the memhers of his famili/. Yes, it is as merciless jw
fire when it has }^ot . . . the upper hand, or . . . the maslcnj. But there wiw
once a flood that God sent upon the earth that did fur more hurt and damsigc
than any that happened either helore or since. It swept away cvcrythinjf,
(»very living creature, all except one family were drowned. Alust that not
have heen a terrible flood, which swe])t away every living creature V It nmst
have spread . . . a// ocer /Ae e wr/A, and goi\e up above the . . . hujhest mouu-
tnins. Long after the creation and fall of Adam and Eve, the peojjle became
iiwfuUy bad . . . drendfulhi wicked . . . and fJod was verij aiu/ry with them.
Indeed he was sorry that lie h.ad made man at all, and he deteiinim's . . .
to sweep them all awn >/ and to send them to one ivatery grace. But God is
inorcitul and long-suflering, and resolves to wait one h>ui(h'cd and twenty
yeai-s to see whether they would repent and tbrsake their sin. But instead of
getting better, the more they grew . . . the w>rse the// became. Tlie good and
the bad mingled more and more, the sons of Seth married the daughtei-s of the
wicked man that slew his brother. You have heard who killed Abel . . . Cain.
His children were as wickcid as himself, and by marriage . . . thei/ corrupted
the others — they almost all became idolatoi-s. You remember the saying, ' Ecil
communications curnipt f/ood manners.' Hut (Jod lias ever had some who loved
an<l feared Ilim, even in the worst times. Were there any such, think you,
r-moiig the hundreds and thousands that now lived . .. Yes, Noah. My uncle
made mc a ]>resenf of a iVoah's ark, with a yreat many birds and beasts that
were snced along with Noah. Yes, Ah'xander is (piiti' right, Noah was pre-
.■orved amid . . . the waters of the dehoje, and the whole of his liousehijld for
his sake. Any why do you think was Noah saved ? Because he was a good
man. The Bible says that Noah . . . was a Just man, he Heed by faith and
walked with God, and acciordingly N^oah found grace in the eyes of the Lord.
Would you like to know how Noah v/as preserved ? Yes, very much. Well,
wiion God revealed his jxirpose of destroying the world by a deluge, he entered
into covenant with Noah, tliat is, he made an agreement with nim by which
he appointed him as the second head of the human family, gave insti-uctions
tor tlu! building of a houses or ark, a large floating fabric, as big as forty men-
of-war, a hundred and fifty feet loiig, twenty-five broad and fifteen deep.
Noah believed God . . . and did as he was commanded. There were no clouds
apparently loaded with rain . . . but Noah believed God, and acted just as if he
had seen it. Did Noah begin at once to build ? Yes, little children, at once,
and continued the whole time that God had given space to the wicked to
repent, that was ... 1 20 years. At length the time arrived and God could
wait no longer. lie gave Noah seven days to get ready, to put all the neces-
sary food and all the creatures . . . safely into the aii: This was an extra-
ordinary week with Noah. He did not lose a moment ... in getting all stored
away. And what do you think were the wicked doing and saying V They
were eating and drinking, buying and sell -^'arrying and giving in marriage
as usual, and passing their jokes, and taku.j^ .^ loud laugh at the old dreamer.
At last the seventh, or Sabbath day came, and God shut in Noah. And
now the fountains of the great deep gushed forth, the windows of heaven were
opened. It was no ordinary raiii, it came . . . in torrents, or as w(! should say,
in a manner as though heaven and earth had come together. All met toge-
ther at God's command to execute his '"^b . . . upon guilty man. For six
weeks, all but two days, it rained inco.-i: antly, during which time the ark
began to float on the surface . . . like a ship on the sea. For five months the
watei-s prevailed, at the end of which ti.ne the ark . . . rested on one of the
mountains of the ^ixst. Three months after, the tops of the mountains . . .
Kere seen, and fo, mths and ten days after that, they are commanded to go
forth out of the i>vt d to begin ... a new world. They were thus in the

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ark altogether . . . just one ijcar and ten days. Ami what do yoil think Was
the first tiling that Noah did after he went out of the ark ? Had he been a
Worldly man, he would have ereeted . . . a houxe for hvnxelf, or given humflj
. . . to rejoiein<:f and revelry. Instead of this he built an altar unto (tod, and
offered burnt-offerings thereon of every clean beast untl of every clean fowl.
And now tell ine the lessons you should learn fi-om this story.

1. God will fulfd all his threats upon the wicked and l)L'stow his rev/ardc
on the g(X)d.

2. We ought to take God at His Word, believe what He says.

3. Show our faith by doing whatever God bids us.

Stage 1 . Lesson 2. Pktunny out u)ords or terms. The glory of the Lord,
" For great is the glory of the Lord," Ps. cxxxviii. 5.

You all know in what the glory of a w.atchuiaker consists ... In niakiii;^
his watches so that they shall keep correct time. The object of the watch is
^ , . to tell what o'clock it is. If it fail in doing this, sometimes too fivst and
sometimes . . , too sloto, itk ... of little use, and the man that made it is
entitled . . . to no credit, orto no honour, or to no tjlory. If, (»n the contrary, tbo
machinery is of such a character, so well arranged and adjusted that it keep?
correct time, then just because there is no gift so valuable . . . as time, so
there is . . . no mechanic so worth;/ of merit, or of honour and praise as the sbil-
ful toatchinaker, And you can tell me in what lies the glory of a soldier ?
In being brave and courageous. But this is very general. How am I to find
out that he is brave ? When he never flies before the enemy. And the evi-
dence of this is . . . lohen he falls with his face to the foe. This, then, is the
highest praise or . . . encomium you can give a soldier. This is his

glory, his great glory. You would say regarding him

real is the glory

of this soldier. And now can any of you snow me what cor >titutcs the glory
of the sun ? It is when he shines . . . most brightly. And this is ... af
noon. The sun is then said to be . . . perfect, or . . . full of glory ; or, in
other words, that is the fullest manifestation or revelation . . . he gives oj
himself. Is the sun then different in his real or essential glory from what he
w;is when in the morning he first gilded the horizon V No, he is really of
essentially the same, ha on]y stamls , . . in a different relation to us. His rays
fell upon us . . . slantingly in the morning, and now they fall u^jon us . . .
more directly.

And now you can tell me, I dare say, the meaning of the expression so fre-
quently used — 'the glory of God. Just as we see the glory of the watchmaker,
his wisdom, and ingenuity, and skill by the watcli lie has fabricated . . .
serving the end in view, so do we see . . . the glory of Goil by the works of hi'
hands. His works proclaim Him to be all He pretends . . . the infuiitehi
perfect One. Yes, possessed . . , of all perfection. Again, a.s the soldier
displays his glory by acting worthy of himself . . . so does the Almighty dis-
play His glory by acting in all Itis works becoming His character ; His
tlioughts being higher than our thoughts, and His ways than our ways, just as
much as heaven ...?!.« higher than our earth, tl ese being only an . . •
image, a transcript, a reflection of Himself. And yet again, just as the sun
shines more brightly at one time than at another, so does God display . . •
more of His glory in some worhi than in others. Can you mention the works
of the Almighty with which we are acquainted? Creation, Providence and
Grace. In which of these does His glory shine most brightly ? In grace.
Here the apparently clashing or conflicting qualities not only harmonize with,
but illustrate one another. Wliat are the lessons we should learn from all this ?
1. We should study and admire the work of grace . . . 7nore than any other
work of God. 2. We should strive to give God the honour to which He is
entitled . . . by acting worthy of our vocation — of our calling.

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lili.

Lesson 3. Emblem. " All wc, like shocp, have gone astray,"

1.
Is.a. lili. 6.

Who says this ? The prophet Isaiah. The prophet Isaiah here tells iih
. . . that all have gone astray . . . gone out nf the right wag . . . that wc
liave wandered away . . . from God, and, thcreibre . . .from ha})piness. And
floes the prophet speak thusof himself and of those who were alive in his day ?
Of himself, and not only of those who were then alive, but of the whole human
family . . . of ei^org clime and of every age. All mankind, without exception,
have forsaken Go(l and {jone . . . into the ways of error and sin, u ^d
nhame. ' All we like sheep have gone astray.' All of you have seen and often
read about this animal. It is employed in almost all countries . . . us the
•imhlem of innocence aiid patience. You remendjer who is eompan'd to a
sheep dumb before her shearers . . . the Lord Jesus Christ. Just as the sheep
(luietly submits to those who are alwut to kill it . . . .so the fjord Jestis Christ
rahnly gives himself up into the hands of his enemies, though he hnew they were
bent on his death, saying with wondrous pity, " If, therefore, you seek me, let
these go their way." You ean tell uie something else for whieh this animal
was then remarkable. It wa.s used in saerifiee, and therefore it is so frequently
gpoken of . . . iti .sacred scripture. And the reason Avhy it was so much em-
ployefl in sacrifice wa^ because . . . it was the principal animal reared in
patriarchal and primitive times. And none . . . moie suitable because of the
property just referred to. Can you tell me where the sheep reaches its
hifjhest perfection V In temperate climates ; and yet it is found Itoth in a
wild and domesticated state in all climes and countries. And now } ou must
tell me something else for which the sheep is noted, and is the reason why
sjKjken of here . . . Of all animals it is most notorious for leaving the best
pasturage, and for going astray. And needs on this account . . . to be con'
ulanlly watched . . , by . . . the faithful shepherds. But there is one thing
belonging to this wandering habit of the sheep more remarkable perhaps than
tiie habit itself. Do you know what that is V You have seen an individual
ox, or cow, or horse leave a good luxuriant pasture when all the others
remained ; but did you ever witness the same thing with the sheep when one
lofl . . . No, then the whole leave. The sheep viewed collectively may there-
fore be well called . . . a flock, or, to use the term derived from the Latin . . .
gregarious. Go where they will, when one sheep goes . . . all the rest follow ;
down ... a precipice, or into , . . a pool, or some pcrihnis situation. But
there is something stranger still in connection with this wandering habit, what
is tliatV Almost all animals possess what may be called an instinctive power
of returning to the place . . . where they were kindly treated, and especially
where they were well fed. Do the sheep possess that instinct V A'b, they may
wander about in the very neighbourhood, but they possess no instinct to return to
the good pasture they have abandoned. (Now, apply the simile here employed
for confirmation and enforcement.) As the sheep ai*e very prone to go away
from good pastures, where they can find everytning their nature desires to
make them happy, or serve the end for which they were made . . . so we are
all prone to go away fiom God, who alone can satisfy . . . the longings of the
human mind. As the whole flock of sheep follow one leader . . . so man follows
his great progenittr, his natural root, his moral head, his wicked companion.
As the sheep, after they leave the best pasturage, show no de^sire to return . . .
"0 we have no disposition to return to God, even after he makes known a way
honouring to himself and beneficial to us — ^every sin from its nature increases
the distance. And now what are the lessons or doctrines here taught ?
1. We may learn that the sin of apostacy or departure from God . . . lies at
the root of all sin. 2. That in Adam . . . all die. .1. Need of heavenly grace
or^ aid of Holy Spi'-it . . . for the application of the benefits of redemption.
What the application of subject ? All, from the youngest to the oldest, should

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through Jems Christ. 2. All

Keek to he reconciled to God, i\\v\ this .
should ask the aid of the Holy Sj)irit.

Stage 1. Lesson 4. Precept. " And be yc kind one to another," Eph. iv. 32.

You have oilon seen tlie old robin oan-yin^ the wonn in its mouth to fjivi'
to its you II jj. Very likely this mother had not tasted . . . anything itself thai
morning. It saw a fine bi;:; worm that would be such a ;;ood mouthful to it«
younji, and though hungry itself, it willingly gave h ... to its offspring.
What would you say of the robin V It iras very, very kind. Ijook at that
si(;k infant lying in tin; eradle. It luus been aj>itarently in a dying state for
five or six days ; the mother has bet^n watching over it by night and day,
suj)[>lying all its want«, ami labouring in every possible way . . . to lessen or
alleviate its sujf'erings. But her strength is exhausted, and she throws hei-seli
down on the couch oeside the dying infant. She cannot sleep, and every
movement given by the child, slu? springs to her feet and looks witii wistful
eyes to find out what it war What would you say of this mother ? Yen
would say . . . she is exci ngiy kind and affectionate. I once knew a
family of ten, brothers tl)ur and sistei-s six, deprived when all young of l)0tli
father rnd mother, the}' were thus . . . orphans. The oldest of the family
Wiis a girl, and of course the great burden of the care of the otluT children
. . . devolved upon her. She watched them with all a mother's ♦ lerne.-s
and with all a father's care ; slu; exi'rted hei-self to the uttermost v^ provide
. . . for all their imnts, but slie was particularly desirous to keep tlu-m from
danger, and there was no danger to her like the danger of temptation — their
tailing . . . into sin. One of the boys had been a cripple from liLs birth, and
she carried him about . . . from place to place ; her very heart strings were
entwined around him ; another of the boys was bent on every species of mis-
chief, and this was to her a .source . . . of deepest sorrow and anxiety. She
pleaded with liim, faithfully a<lmonished him, and .shed many a silent tear
over him. This little fellow was proof against everything but her tears.
Sometimes he saw her trying to hide them, and this went to his heart with
greater power than all . . . her upbraidings or threaleninqs. What would
you say about this sister ? She was kind indeed. And what reigned within
the precincts of that household ? Happiness all over, whatever the quarrels
without, . . . all were happy within. And what made them so V They all
loved one another, and particularly their eldest svtter. They would not stoj)
out at night when they could help it . . . all being so happy at home. Now,
how should all little boys and girls Iwhave towards one another at scliool ?
They should be kind one to another. If there is one child infirm, or lame, or
cripple . . . they ar' to he specially kind to him, and help along in every way
they can. If any are stupid or doltish in learning their lessons, what arc you
to do to such ? Urge them to be diligent, help them out of difficulties, and assist
them in every possible way. And if they are thus all kind to one another,
what kind of a school will it be V All the scholars will be happy and loving—
the hours they spend in school . . . will he the viost delightful of the whole day.
And what is the source of all this happiness ? It is because they are ohedieni
tn God. As God commands in his word ..." A7id be ye kind one to another.''
Do all the divine commands promote the real happiness of those tliat obey
them ? Yes, and therefoi-e we should not listen , . . to our own wicked hearts,
or . . . to any bad school fellow, or ... to icorldly pleasure or amusement,
that would all fain persuade us . . . that it is silly or weak to keep God's laws.
J.s this command just as binding uix)n us as the command ' Thou shalt not kill,
or steal ' ? Yes, Just as binding. What then should we all strive to be doing
Irom this precept ? To he kind one to another. But I will tell j'ou something
tliat ought to make us tie this connnand around our neck and lay it upon our
heart ? It is this, that if we are not kind to one another, we cannot love one
another. And then we are destitute of the principle , . . of all obedience-

ART OP EDUCATION.

465

of niis-
/. She
•lit tear
r tears,
b-t witli

WOlllll

within
uarrol!"
hey all
lot stop
ITow.
school ?
ivinc, or
ry icay
cire you
r/ usaist
.nother.
jmn(j—
ok day-
ihedient
\otlitr^
t obey
hearlK,
sement,
"s hws-
lot kill,
c doing
nothing
»on our
,ve one
\cdience-

What, says Christ, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, ffc.
and tity iidyhbonr as thyself. On those two . . . hanr/ all the law utid the pro-
phets. \/hiit tlicn is tlie sum of all our duty. We should strive to he kind
to one another, and pray that the love of God and of man be shed abroad in
nnr hearts by the Holy Ghost given unto us.

Trainer's Preparations for Oral Lessons. "With the general quali-
fications and exporlenro even of the most skilful teacher, there ought
to be a direct preparation of every lesson, and specially of every oral
lesson. As soon then as the subject of the next lesson, wliether
secular or sacred, is decided upon, the first duty of the trainer is to
ruminate upon it, to bring all his powers and energies to bear upon it ;
and, having weighed it in all its aspects, to commit to writing the
leading thoughts or ideas that may, at the first blush of consideration,
present themselves to his mind, and to hold these as a kind of refer-
ence book in all his .subsequent investigations, and concoctings, and
arrangements.

At this stage, in the prosecution of the study of his subject, he
should avail himself of all the sources of information within his reach.
For this purpose ho ought to be provided with a well selected library
of books, upon professional topics, with whose general contents he
should be familiar, so that he may be able to bend his steps at once
to the proper quarter, to those very discussions that are most pertinent,
thiit convey the needed intelligence and instruction.

Having obtained the requisite information, and being supplied with
the necessary materials, he is now in a position to proceed to dijest,
arrange, and put the whole into something like systematic shape. He
should here consult his original notanda, recast, modify, and recombine
by a generalizing process, until he has succeeded in presenting the
whole in leading outline and logical consecutive order with a definite
aim and end iu view. He should now insert on the margin of his
note book the more prominent, salient points in this outline, and pro-
ceed to fill in the details, making jottings of the various illustrations
and anecdotes he intends to employ.

The whole bemg now sketched, the important enquiry here arises,
^Hiat use is the trainer to make of all these preparations ? This is a
point of the utmost moment, as it not unfrequently happens, even after
the most laborious preparation, that a misapplication here terminates
in a partial, if not thorough failure. Some write out in finished com-
position a full discussion of the subject, commit it to memory, in the
hope of being able to deliver very nearly as thus composed. Others
again write out a series of questions and answers, in the expectation
of abiding pretty closely by the prescribed course, and labour most

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TEACHER S TEXT-BOOK.

Outline.
1 . Tlie potato a tuber
or an
stalk.

iiiulerground

2. Tlu>. botanical or
vegetable composition

assiduously in getting that course deposited in the memory. "Whether
the one plan or the other is pursued, it will all but invariably end in
discomfiture. The true and successful plan to pursue here is tho-
roughly to master the subject as sketched in notes without attempting
in any shape or form to accjuire the language, to have tlie points pre-
sented in marginal reference so embedded in the understanding and
memory as no ordinary obstruction shall be abu^ *(; «.»b)iter;ite. With
such a possession of these marginal notes, tlie details and the illustra-
tions will cluster around and present themselves at the very time, and
in the very place, most serviceable to the trainer.

TUAINEU'ft NOTES OI-* rREI'AKATIOX ON THE POTATO.

Jllh rations.

1. A most valuable cscnlcnt — native of South Ame-
rica — introduced into Europe by Sir Walter Ralei}fh —
the most precious frill of the New World to the (Jid —
wider ranoe of soils and temi)eratuve t)ian most otlier
cultivated plants.

2. Natural order solanacea' or the nigiit-sha(hi trlhc,
possesses narcotic and stimulating projKrtics, which in
excess are ])oisonous — Itranched and succulent stem —
white or purplisli flowers — fruit size of small plum, green
at first, black when ripe — numerous small seeds — root
lijus many tubers attadied to it of a round or oblong
form — varieties fii-st from seed- ami continued by sets
exceedingly numerous, and constantly varying varieties
early and late.

3. Roots and tubers same watery condition as frulLi.
Potato contains 75 parts water and 2.") of dry food in 100.
Carrot " 83 " 17 " "
Turnip " 90 " 10 " "
The potato contains a small projioj-tion of gluten, most
nutritious of all vegetal)le substances, hi 100 tliere
are 8 jiarts of gluten and 92 of starch.

4. The soils best adapted for the potato arc of tiie
drier and lighter class — cultivated by the plough, spade
and hoe. Reibre diso{u*e, any kind of manure suflicod,
— now nnist be wcH j)repared — quantity from IG to "20
tons per acre — connnon farm yard dung is most suitable.
Should be ploughed into the soil in autumn. Potato
sets some ten days before planting — placed 8 or 10 inches
from each other — planted beginning of May — fortni<;ht
af\er planting harrowed — when plants above ground,
the horse hoe first goes over, then the hand hoes — fort-
night af\er, ,'ame repeated. This generally cleans the
land. The lut opor.itiou i.'? i aiding the earth to the
stems of the plant, clone by a double mould-board
plough. Taken up generally in the month of October.

5. a. It is more important as an article of food than
any other root we cultivate.

b. It improves wheaten bread in lightness and gene-
ral appearaqce.

3. Its chemical com-
position.
Contents.

4. (frowth
nagenient.

and ma-

5. The uses of potato.

f.?« ""

XnT OP EDtrCATlON.

467

Lossons taught^

c. The focula or starch may be obtained separately
by simple means, and ap])lied to various purposes of
(lonu'stic economy.

il. It yield;^^ a larpe quantity of a" lent spirits by dis-
tillation.

c. It may be given i« a raw state to nearly all domes-
tic annuals.

/. }>teaincd potatoes may be given to horses, dairy
cows, or to ai\y kind (A' cattJe, tor the purpose of lee(l-
in;jr and lattening.

(). Wisdom and fjoodness of Crnitor iu adapti'ig
jiotato to almost all climates.

Geography. There is, perhaps, no brancli of cdncation where the
skill and power of tlie teacher can he brought more extensively or
'efficiently into operation tlian the one before us. As already stated,
it embraces the widest possible range, with every variety of topic,
capable of being taurjbt in the most interesting, attractive and fasci-
nating manner. Here there is no lack of objects. The whole world
•of nature and of art is spread out before us, and in no one branch liave
we the same copious supply of pictorial representations, from the
planet on which we tread to the county in which we dwell, or even to
the school section, or, lower still, to the patrimonial homestead. And,
then, what an array of educational principles can be brought into
play — principles by which we can adapt ourselves to all stages and
varieties of character — principles by which we can arrest and interest
the little prattling child, as well as the most advanced and accom-
plished scholar. Moreover, what is the organ, or faculty, or sensibility
it does not address, arouse, expand, regale, enliven and ennoble.

And yet despite of all these advantages to the teacher, few branches
have, till of late, been more imperfectly or miserably taught. The
hackneyed system of beginning with the book and carrying straight
onward till the end was reached, all but universally prevailerl. As
almost every treatise on the subject of geography comnH-nces with the
evolution of principles and the exposition of definitions, this necessa-
rily plunged, at once, the children of nine or ten years of age into all
the technicalities and abstractions of a science. Without anything in
the shape of preparatory exercises, or the least effort to connect the
visible around with tlwj study on which they entered, ihey were trans-
ported, as in a balloon, into the region of the clouds, and having
roamed, for a season, amongst the sun, moon and stars, tliey alighted on
terra firma, proceeded to the study of the surface configuration, thence
to the hemispheres and continents, oceans an*l Bt;as, and thence to the
individual countries, and at length arrived at the long wished for spot,
the spot endeared to them by the frolics and gam

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(« '

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—I.

infantine and childish years. Surely, if ever there were an exemplifi-
cation of the most initiatory and established educational principle
being violated, it is here. This is to proceed from the unknown to
the knovvn with a witness. Then, again, there was the con.plete desti-
tution of everything in the shape of classification or of consecutive
arrangement ; or, if anything of the kind was attempted with pry one
continent or country, it was reversed with the succeeding. And as to
the cultivation of the analytical or synthetical powers for which thi?'
branch furnished such ample materials, and as to the appreciation of
those fine illustrations of the laws of association and generalization
herein presented, neither the one nor the other of these was even
aimed at. The knowledge attained by this style of teaching was
purely topographical, and the faculty exercised was that of the merest
verba' memory, a whole catalogue of capes, rivers, capitals, towns, &c.
being carefully committed, and thereafter their position pointed out
on the globe or map.

A brighter day has dawned npon the teaching of this as of other
branches of education. It is now, in some measure, at least, regarded
and treated with a reference to the powers it calls most prominently
into operation, the ennobling educational principles it involves, the
other branches of education with which it is most directly asso^^'pted,
and, more especially, with a reference to the appliances and ill, v
tions, by which it may be brought within the comprehension and grasp
of every phase of "endowment, of every degree of attainment. Much,
it is true, both theoretical and practical, remains to be done. In the
meantiue, it behooves us to rejoice that the incrustations and rust,
which obscured the glory of this branch of education, have been par-
tially removed, that men of enlightenment and refinement are ex-
pending their energies in unfolding the displays here given of the
workmanship pf divinity on the one hand and of humanity on the
other ; and that men of lofty talent, of ripe scholarship, and of com-
manding, educational experience, are devising every scheme, and
calling into requisition every appliance, by which the science of geo-
graphy may assume its real position, and yield the benefit with which
we believe it to be laden. Let us press on to higher achievements ; —
let each throw in his mite of contribution, and ere long will the cope-
stone of perfectibility be laid upon it.

With a view of carrying out the great law of gradation, both in the
arrangement of the subject and the mode of teaching, — the law by which
our system is peculiarly characterized, we would first divide geography
iato two great sections or divisions. Elementary and Systcaatic, th»

ART OF EDUCATION.

469

1 1

former being carried on orally aacorfling to 'Tie usual process of ques-
tioning and ellipses, and the latter partly orally and partly by text-
book. In tlie treatment of one or other of these, there are three,
prominent points, which it behooves i^s steadily to hold up to view : —
1. The educational principle or principles involved, dependent, upon
and modified by the stage of development and attainment of the recip-
ients ; 2. the appliances or instruments employed ; and 3. the order
or the arrangement to be pursued in the discussion of the subject
matter itself. Each of these points in its application to the elementary
and systematic, we shall consider briefly in order.

Elementary Geography. 1. The educational principle or principles
involved.

The elementary department, we need scarcely say, is designed
entirely for the most initiatory or introductory stages of geography.
This may be commenced about the eighth or ninth year, when the
young are able to read any common book with tolerable fluency,
incidentally in the primary, and more formally in the juvenile or
intermediate department. Both in and out of school they have learned
and seen much, fitted to prepare them to enter upon this branch with
interest and profit. By means of oral lessons, they have had their
senses exercised upon objects about and around them, and especially,
by the objects of the external world. By this means, t1" 'r analyti-
cal powers have been considerably exercised, and their conceptive
faculty cultivated by oral lessons and otherwise.

In entering upon the more formal study of geography, all they have
to do is ju??t to fix, extend and enlarge their observational powers
upon the various objects in the external world, to analyze and note
more narrowly their parts and qualities ; and thus proceed from the
known to the unknown, from the visible to the invisible. In one
word, their first step is to connect themselves more completely with
the exterior world, and the exterior world with that branch of know-
ledge now under their immediate consideration. The second step
plainly is to direct their observational powers to the same objects, and
to view them in their relatioiis or affections, in their dependencies,
influences and tendencies. And all this again will lay the foundation
for classification and for the order of procedure, according to their
associative links or the mutual dependencies of these objects.

2. The second point to be attended to in this elementary depart-
ment, is the instruments or appliances hy which the work is carried
on, in reference to which a certain amount of instruction and training
must be given. It has just been stated that the first thing the pupil

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TEACnER*3 TEXT-BOOK.

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in geography has to do is to observe and describe the objects in tbe
external world. The first part in that description plainly '.s the posi-
tion or place which these objects occupy ; but how can he give this
description without some common standard of appt;al, and foi' this
purpose he must acquire the knowledge of certa"' .ints in the horizon
by which he is bounded, called cardinal points or points in the com-
pass, with all the intermediate spaces. This knowledge he can easily
get by an observation of the sun in the morning, or at noon, or in the
evening. He affixes technical terms to each of these points, viz.,
East, South, West and North ; he has now obtained a formula to
which he can refer the position of places, and by which much needless
repetition is saved. The children, at a very early period, and alto-
gether independent of geography, should have an oral lesson on this
subject, and be re{piired to reduce it to practice with all the objects,
around, day after day, and week after week, until they are completely
at home with it, and can at once tell the position of any object or
place. This should be done, at first, with the objects themselves, and,
then, with their representation on the black-board, changing the objects
in every possible direction, and requiring the pupils to tell the direc-
tion or position. This exercise tliey should be required to repeat,
often and again, on the slates at their seats. This is sometimes called
the mapping of objects.

Again, it has just been stated, that, at this stage, the children require-
to regard objects relatively. One object is higher than all the sur-
rounding, and another is removed to a greater distance than all the
rest. You may inform them that the rising ground in the distance is.
a thousand feet in height, or that the prominent object pointed out, i.>
about five miles away, but this knowledge conveys no true idea of tiie
height of the one, and of the distance of the other, to their minds.
Here, again, they must have some standard of reference. Already
they are familiar with such a standard. In the application of number
to weights and measures, their attention lias been called to the length
of an inch, a foot, a yaixl, a rod, &g. A great variety of objects has.
been examined by this measurement,, and the childreii of this st.'ige
can now tell, with considerable accuracy and precision, the heights or
the distances of surrounding objects. All they have now to do is to
compare the rising ground with the highest object in neighbourhood,
with whose measurement they are well acquainte<l ; and comparing the
one with the other, they obtain a correct estimate of the distant mouu-
tain, whether 500, or 1,000, or 2.000 feet in height. The next thing
to which their attention should be called^ and respecting wliich a great

ART OP EDUCATION.

471

require
le sur-
all the
taiice is-
out, i>
of the
miinls.
U ready
lumber
length
sets ha*
13 stage
ights or
do is to
urhood,
h-iug the
It mouu-
a thing
a great

variety of exercises should be given, is the relative heights and distances,
and the necessity of preserving these propcties when they represent
them on the black-board, or draw them on slates, that is, that every-
thing should appear in its due proportion. On this principle they can
be easily trained to have a correct idea of the map. Let a plan of the
school be drawn on the floor below their eyes. Take a line of a cer-
tain given length, representing one of the sides of the building, the
master should train out from the pupils how the lines representing the
other sides should be drawn. Here they will at once see that these
lines must be proportional, that is, they must be of a fixed length in
reference to the first. The position of the master's desk should then
be determined, and thereafter the various articles of school furniture
will fall into their appropriate places. And here there is presented a
bird's eye view of the school. A map should now be stretched out on
the floor and the children told that this represents a portion of the
earth's surface, as it would appear to a spectator, looking upon it from
above. And now the whole symbology of chartology or mapping will
have a meaning it never possessed before, and will assume the nearest
approximation to the reality — the mountains, the rivers, towns, &c.,
all standing out in bold relief. After a time the plan may be projected
on the black-board and compared with a map suspended before the
children. Then the same process should be gone through with an
irregular figure, such as the field around the school-house, or the gar-
den in front, and the children required to make the same on their
slates, drawn on different scales. Thei«" work may at first be rude
and unfinished, but it will be invaluable in giving them accurate
conceptions of a map. These are the principal appliances required in
Elementary Geography. If the pupils nave received no previous
training upon these points, they should do so before commencing the
study of geography.

3. Subjects in Elementary Geography. Though the instruction
here is carried on entirely orally, and much, as a matter of course, left
to the option of the teacher, still it is desirable that a certain order be
pursued, and that that order shall be such as shall secure the conside-
ration first of the more prominent features, and then of those that are
dependent upon or that flow therefrom, that is, the order of cause and
effect. Mountains, it ia well known, form the most prominent and the
most important features, physically, of every country, insomuch that
they have been appropriately designated its backbone. These should
be first considered. The nearest rising ground, oi hill, or mountain
visible from the school-x'oom is taken up, and its height, direction,

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teacher's text-book.

slope, covering, structure, productions growing at its foot and on its
side, &c., are all considered, and this lays the foundation for all future
unfolding of hills or mountains. The rivers come next, and the little
stream that flows in front of the school, forms the typical illustration.
Why its unceasing motion, and in a particular direction — whence its
origin and its course — what the cause of these pools and rapids — what
the nature of its bed and the pebbles at the bottom — why the luxuri-
ance of the herbage on its banks, &c. ? These and similar questions
answered at this stage will pave the way for the geography of river
systems. Then will come the subject of lakes, the idea of which may
be developed from some pond or pool in the vicinity of the school.
But we need not continue this strain of observation. Ve have suffi-
ciently indicated the nature and design of these lessons. The following
list will supply abundant material to the intelligent trainer, and pre-
pare the youthful mind for the highest possible appreciation of the
subject when presented in more systematic form : — 1. Mountains. 2.
Valleys and plains. 3. Streams. 4. Lakes. 5. Climate. G. Day
and night ; the seasons, — spring, 8umm< r, autumn, winter, &c. 7. The
productions of the locality, whether agricultural or mineral. 8. The
inhabitants and their occupations. 9. The products of industry, whe-
ther in the shape of farm produce or maimfactured goods. 10. The
modes of transit from one country to another. 11. The stones, the
plants, the animals of the locality, with their structure, their habits
and uses, interesting and profitable anecdotes, (no technical language,
nothing beyond the individual biography). 12. Civil divisions begin-
ning with school sections or district — township, county. 13. Villages,
towns, cities. 14. If inland, seas, bays, gulfs, straits, or, if country
be insular or peninsular, oceans, seas, &c.

Systematic Geographj. By Ms we understand geography as dis-
cussed and elaborated in the best text-books. Though in practical
importance it occupies a foremost place amongst the physical sciences,
it is only in more recent times that geography has received the atten-
tion which is its due. Some progress has accordingly been made, but
much still remains to be done, in systematizing and simplifying for
school purposes, specially in adaptation to the different stages of men-
tal development.

Here we pursue the very same order as in the elementary depart-
ment. 1. The educational principle or principles involved. 2. The
appliances. 3. The arrangement or the order of the different parts
of the subject. Vastly would it facilitate the whole matter of the
teaching of these branches were text-books, even on the last of these

mm.

ART OP EDUCATION.

473

topics, pursuing a regular systematic course with every country
lioginiiing with tlie causes and proceeding onwards throughout iV the
diverse effects, and inserting the heads even when there is no exem-
plification. The text-books that uiake the nearest i.pproximation to
thiy consecutive order, are, in our opinion, those in the course of pub-
lication by Scriltner and Co., New York, under the auspices of Mr.
Guyot and Mrs. Smith.

]. 77/e educntionnl principles mainly involved, with the intellectual
powers on which founded.

Here we still maintain the old land marks or stand points, proceed-
ing from the known to the unknown, from the visible to the invisible.
The facts stored up in the elementary department, whether deposited
in the understanding and memory by a more formal or incidental
instruction, will now, of course, constitute the I'cgion of the known,
will bring out very forcibly and impressively its benefits. The second
important educational principle here employed is the outline, that is
teaching by outlines. The theory and the practice of this principle
have been referred to and illustrated again and again. Its im[)ortance
here cannot be over-estimated. As it were altogether Utopian to
attempt to deposit the facts of geography in the underatanJing and
memory without classification, it were equally so to attempt the classi-
fication process without the application of the principle referred to.
But we need not farther enlarge, save simply to notice that the prin-
ciple of teaching by outlines is based upon and directly flows irom the
faculty of abstraction, and specially of that department known by the
designation of generalization. The next important educational prin-
ciple here called into play is the associative, and especially that link
which connects causes and their effects. This principle may, with all
justice and appropriateness, be applied to the combination of geogra-
phy and history, of topography with the events that have transpired
in different localities, or in the tracing of resemblances and contrasts —
another development of the law of original suggestion. But tlie most
important of all these bonds is that of cause and effect ; tracing, for
example, the connexion between the physical features of a country
and the pursuits, or even the intellectual calibre, of its inhabitants,
between the character of the mountain and the river basins, and the
employments of the people, with the nature of their towns and A'illages.
Tracing such connexions, and learning the lessons deducible, is to
teach geography with effect, with genuine gain. But we cannot follow
farther this train of thought. This principle, need we say, is entirely
dependent on the intuitive faculty.

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2. Appliances. As the principles involved in this higher dnpait-
ment are more intricate and complicated, so the appliances are more
numerous and diversiried. Indeed, every picture that can be given of
the earth as a whole, or of any portion of it, can be here called into
requisition, and used with every possible advantage. This introduces
us at once to the whole subject of globes and of chartography. The
nearest illustration we can get of the earth as a planet in its form,
size, motions and surface configuration, is a globe, and of course the
first thing to be done to the pupil entering upon the study of systema-
tic geography is to submit the globe to his consideration, to give hira
an explanation of the various parts, and train hira to use it and observe
for himself. The teacher may also show him here how to work a few
simple problems on the glot)e. The next best representation of the
earth as a whole is the hemispheres, which introduces the whole sub-
ject of chartography. The eastern and western hemispheres form an
admirable intermediate link between the terrestrial globes and the
continents, and with a diligent observation of the globe, the pu])il will
be in every way qualified to take up the hemisphere and obtain a
more particular knowledge of the surflice configuration, and thence to
proceed to the continents, and to the particular countries. We have
no intention here of discussing the subject of chartography, or even of
attempting an outline of the efforts made to reach proficiency in this
art, or the race of competition on the part of authors, publishers, aiid
chartographers. It is more to our purpose, that we congratulate all
at the progress, the rapid strides that have recently been made in this
a-rt, and to look forward in joyous anticipation to the time, when the
whole subject of mapping shall have reached that degree of perfection,
that nothing shall be felt to be awanting but the actuality itself, the
living being.

But it may not be unreasonable did we here briefly advert to a
distinction that, in our estimation, ought to obtain and bear great
sway in the matter of chartography, — we refer to that which should
be drawn between maps and atlas, intended for the communication of
information in general, and for the school-room in particular. In
reference to the former, too much attention cannot be given to the
accuracy and minuteness of topography and of letter pressing ; every
object or thing should be inserted, whether it flow from natural or
political causes, and the nearer the copy to the original the better and
lore useful. In reference to maps for school-room purposes, however,
vrhilst all accuracy ought to be attended to in the localizing process
alike of natural and political features, as well as of mathematical and

ii'

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ART OF EDUCATION.

47ft

other lines, there is no need of letter press. The utility of maps in
the school-room is to gi\e the scholars an idea of the actual continent
or country us correct and as full as possible, such an idea in fact that
will produce an impression, and be easily recalled at any future period,
and the best way of securing such an impressi(.n is to fix the attention
and furrow the name iii th(! memory. This is not done by affixing the
name or names to the objects or things, but by lindii ^ it out, and
working it into the understanding and memory. Accordingly, when
geography is learned by the text-book and maps alone, it is generally
admitted that by far 'he best niaps aie those designated blank, or
entirely destitute of letier press. Of course these may be of any shape
and form, embossed, pictorially ornamented in the highest possible
degree, and descriptive of every physical, or climatal, or organic
phenomenon.

But maps can be rendered still more serviceable in the teaching of
geogr;<phy, and that is by what are usually designated outlines. By
this discription of maps we usually understand the construction of the
boundary line, of the continent or country without any other guide
but that of the parallels and meridians. Some now resort to the
triangulation system, as it is called, on the ground, we presume, that
all figures, or whatever shape or form, are most conveniently measured
by triangles. But the very locating of the triangles presupposes a
knowledge of the latitudes and meridians ; and that being the case, we
can see no important end served by triangles. Let the pupil accus-
tom himself to form an idea of the space required by the degrees of
latitude and longitude, and the scale or size intended, and let him pro-
cvwl at once to the constrnction, and the map will be as correct and
serviceable as made by the help of triangles. But what it may still be
asked, what is the purpose served by these outline maps, whether
constructed with or without the aid of triangles ? They are intended
to act as an appliance in the teaching of the geography of a particular
continent or country. The trainer is supposed to possess a thorough
mastery over his pencil, and with the outline or boundary line drawn
on the black-board, he proceeds with his class before him to fdl in
details, drawing the physical features first and then the political, and
naming every feature as he goes along, as well as pointing out the
scene of any important event or events. A powerful enhancement
will be given to the whole by the use of crayon chalk with diversity
of colours. This we hold to be pre-eminently and emphatically the
way of teaching geography, and particularly whan, in addition to this,
every continent or counti-y is drawn by the class. Whether the

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476

teacher's text-book.

Leacher is able to teach geography in the way just, described by out-
lines, no individual should be allowed to train a class in this branch
without requiring his pupils to draw upon the slates or black-board
the maps on which he is exercised, beginning with boundary line and
filling in the details. This will impart a minuteness and a thorough-
ness of the knowledge of the country before him that can be acquired
in no other way.

3. Snhject-matter of Systematic Geography. With this equipment
the class is now prepared to proceed to the second stage, which is
again subdivided into two parts — Systematic Initiatory and Systematic
Advanced.

1. Systematic Initiatory. This, as well as tlu elementary, is con-
ducted orally, and^ if it were possible, in consequence of the larger
supply of apparatus, more is left to the pupils, that is, the ellipses
are still more abundant. The first oral lesson should be on the
shape of the earth, assisted by the artificial globe ; the second, on
its size ; the third, on its motions with their effects ; the fourth, on the
greater and lesser lines — several lessons ; the fifth, several lessons on
the surface aspects of our earth, the divisions, relations, proportions of
land and water, with a few of their general effects ; the sixth, the
hemispheres should then be taken up and half-a-dozen of oral lessons
made out of them. 1. Trace connexion between globes and hemis-
pheres. 2. Taking the equator as stand-point, describe the relative
poaitions of land and water. 3. Point out the origin and the apjiro-
priateness of the technical terms employed in geography books, and
accustom the pupils to their use. 4. Describe the relative topograi)liy
of the continents, sha}>e, size, position in reference to the equator, &c.

The hemispheres may now be left and the continents examined one
by one. 1. The great outlines of all the continents pointed out and a
comparison institutod between the eastern and western. 2. Compari-
son of the coast lines of the different continents. 3. Comparison of
the interior of each. 4. The continents should then be taken up
individually, and the various countries, cr states, or empires pointed
out, with the characteristics, natural and artificial, of each country.
On this, however, there may be half-a-dozen oral lessons and more.

At this stage it may be of advantage to accustom the pupils to draw
maps of hemispheres, and continents, and individual countries, either
on their slates or black-boards from memory, with the parallels and
meridians only given. This requires the ideal of the whole map in
its leading features, in the mind's eye of the scholars, and the very

kk 1

AHT OF EDtlCATIOJr.

477

attempt to reduce it to actual shape will give a familiarity with the
general contour which nothing else could.

Geography Systematic. 2. Advanced. Now, the whole subject is
to be proceeded with systematically, under the direction of the best
text-books that can be procured on the subject. The generality of
tex't-bookg on geography, divide the whole subject into Mathematical
Physical, Political and Historical. This division is evidcutiy lacking
in precision, inasmuch as both the Mathematical and Physical enter
into the Political and Historical. And, indeed, in almost all googra-
phies this is the case. A much better and more correct division, in
our apprehension, would be — 1. Geography in its general principles,
iuid 2. Geography in its details — the former embracing all, and even
more than is usually done under Mathematical and Physical, and the
hitter. Political and Historical.

1. Geography in its general principles. Mathematical geography,
as is well known, if fully discussed, enters into the very essence of tho
science, viewing, as it does, our earth as a planet, first in its relation
to the solar system, then the solar system in its relation to the universe,
and then in itself — its form, size and motions. This department prO'
perly associates our subject with Astronomy. Then ci mes the second
grand department of general principles, namely, the dr wing of certain
imaginary lines round the earth, called great and smai. circles, for the
purpose of marking with precision the position of places on the earth's
surface, and the effects resulting from its orbitual and diurnal motions.
This again links geography with mathematics. Both these depart-
ments ought to be taught in connexion with the globe, and after all
the preparations given, the teaching of the outlipes of the globe mighl
be here introduced with great effect. We mean, of course, the desig-
nation of the various parts ai. the working of a few general questions,
without at all going into the details, which might be more advantage-
ously taken up at a subsaquent stage. Then comes the third class of
subjects, natural or physical geography. Here the following will
fall to be taken in order. 1. The materials, density and attractive
power of the earth. 2. Surface configuration, comprehending. 1
Proportion and distribution of land and water. 2. Land — a. Conti-
nents ; b. Mountains ; c. Plateaus or table lands ; d. Plains ; e. Val-
leys, &c. 3. Waters, salt — a. The oceans — their size, form, peculi-
arities and principal branches ; b. Basin of ocean ; c. Saltness and
temperature ; d. Tidal waves ; e. Winds, waves, currents ; /. Mean
level of sea; g. Estuaries. Water, fresh — a. Rivers — their basin,
channel, quantity of water, velocity, mode of juncture of rivers with

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rivers, temperature of riv, vs, uses in the economy of nature ; I. Laken,
their basins, supply of water, removal of water, contents of water,
temperature of lakes, obliteration ; c. Springs — their direction, tempe-
rature, contents ; d. Water — from atmosphere, dew, hoar frost, mist,
rain, rain guages, econoralcral uses of rain water. 4. Atmosphere —
limits and pressure, contents, temperature, currents. T). Mineralogy,
with principles of chemistry. 6. Botany. 7. Zoology. 8. Ethnol-
ogy, fl. Geology.

.3. Geography advanced in its details. This, usually called political
or artificial geography, is the only department or branch of the science
which has received adequate attention in schools till of late years. It
takes up country after country, and in detail discusses the mathema-
tical, physical or natural, j)olitical or artificial, historical. «&c. And
the question now is, * How should this branch be ^aught ?' This is
the most practical and important, and yet how defective is the
arrangement of the great majority of text-books, and equally so the
teaching. Not only is there generally no order, but no consecutive-
ness or dependence, thereby violating one of the laws of the association
of ideas, that of cause and effect, perhaps the most valuable of the
whole. It is clear that a certain order ought to be fixed upon by
every author and teacher. That order should be founded upon the
nature of things, and most rigorously pursued in respect to every
country. The order, which, after a good deal of consideration, we
would recommend, is the following : —

1. The name of the country, its origin and meanin,^, then the
outline history of the country, previous and subsequent to the designa-
tion. This will put the pupils on highest vantage ground in connec-
tion with any particular locality associated with any great event or
events, whether the scene of some battle or the birth-place of some
great genius, &c. In every text-book, every state should be preceded
by a short history of its principal events, which ought, if possible, to
be supplemented by more elaborate statements on the part of the
teacher.

The geographical features are arranged under the two leading
divisions of the exterior and the interior. The foiraer comprehends
the following : —

2. Its position and dimensions.

3. Its boundaries.

4. And how ranch of boundary line for every square mile of area.

5. The relations of land and water — all bays, gulfs, or straits.
The islands, capes or promontories.

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ART OF EDUCATION. 479

The interior •mhraces: —

7. The mountains and table lands or water8lieil».|

8. Rivera and river basins.

9. Lakes.

10. Surface — area, with political divisions and population, and the
luimbor thus given to every square mile.

11. Inland and maritime towns, or on rivers course, or mouth, or
tabular view of rivers and towns with inclinations to sea.

1 2. Mineralogy.

13. Phytology,

14. Zoology.

15. Geology.

IG. Ethnography. People, language, religion and education,
[ndustrial resources. Form of government. Army and >lavy. Ex
ports and Imports. Revenue and expenditure, &c.

In every one of the foregoing lessons always begin with the north
and terminate with the west.

Use of Globes. From incidental notices our readers will observe
the views we entertain relative to the time and way ia which instruc-
tion should be imparted in the globes, that it is to be introduced
gradually as the pupils advance in systematic geography. At the
commencement of this department, the names and uses of all the parts
should be given, and a few simple problems worked. At the opening
up of the systematic advanced, when a more specific examination of
the form, size and motions of the earth as a planet takes place, more
formal instruction should be given. This will prove of advantage in
various ways, not merely in aiding the scholar to a correct knowledge
of these topics, but in imparting more enlarged and philosophical views
of the whole subject. Thereafter, an hour once a fortnight or so
might be judiciously expended on the use of the globes, on which
occasions these lessons would naturally take the place of geography,
systematic and advanced.

History. Alluf^'on has already been made to the teaching of history
in connection w'ln geography, and ''n admirable way this is of impress-
ing historical facts or events on d minds of the rising generation.
At best, however, this method of teaching history is very diffuse. Its
mportance plainly demands that it be studied more systematically
and as a distinct branch of education, and not only so, but that a posi-
tion of highest prominence in the English department be assigned to
it. The teaching includes two important ideas, — 1. The order in

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480

teacher's text-book.

which it should bo presented to tlie youthful miud, and 2. The method
)u which it should be taught.

Order. Here, as in every other department, we begin with those
places and things with which the young should be most familiar, and
in which they feel the deepest interest, that is, the first country whose
liistory should be studied, is the native country of the scholars. If
that country happens to be a province or colony, the next in order is,
as a matter of course, the parent country, with whose leading events
in the past, every child should be rendered perfectly familiar.

After the history of the country in which the school is located is
thoroughly mastered, both in its leading outlines and in its more
minute details, the whole subject of universal history will then fall to
be considered ; — a subject, be it remembered, which can scarcely be
outstripped in importance, and which demands the highest skill on the
part of the teacher, and the closest application on the part of the stu-
dent. This, of course, should be consecutively studied, according to
the division of ancient and modern, or ancient, medieval and modern.

3Iode of prosecuting this study. We need scarcely say that, gene-
rally speaking, this branch is very defectively taught. Whatever is
the history, the book is opened at its commencement and read right
through to the end, chapter by chapter, with the principal and minute
events or facts all blended together in one heterogenous mass. Now,
whilst V. e are staunch advocates for every subject being studied by
outlines, it is in the study of liistory mainly that we would insist upon
this course being pursued, and no other. We say nothing here about
the general advantages of teaching by outlines. This has been done
in another place. But we do maintain that the very nature of the
study itself demands the pursuance of this method. Ine history of
any country, whether it be of greater or less importance, is not made
up of an invariable chain of links, or of an aggregate of events, rising
in height and breadth, until it reach one grand culminating point. It is
something like the waves of old ocean, when both the tidal and windy
inlluences unite in the formation of the surge which dashes headlong,
for a period, every opposing barrier. Every now and again, perhaps,
within the range of a century, comes one fell, sweeping convulsion or
revolution, bearing all before it with terrible fury. This has its
harbingers or precursors, perhaps, for a quarter or half a century. It
has also its results, civilly, and ecclesiastically, and morally, and some
of these may be palpably conspicuous far in the distant future. And
what, we ask, more natural or more opposite than that these leading
epochs or eras in the history of the nation imdor consideration bo first

ART OP EDUCATION.

481

miuute

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taken up, and in their dates and leading features written as with an
iron pen on the tablets of the memory. Suppose the history is that
of England, we should first of all strive to master the eight periods.
1. The Aboriginal ; 2. The Roman ; 3. The Saxon ; 4. The Norman ;
5. The Plantagenet; 6. The Tudor; 7. The Stewart, and 8. The
Guelph, with their dates and distinguishing characteristics. The next
stage we should (le\ote to the kings or monarclis, with date of com-
mencement and close of reign. The third and last stage we should de-
vote to the leading events in each reign, with the more illustrious per-
sons, &c. All this should be done orally by the teacher, and reiterated
day after day until the whole is stereotyped in the memory. Then the
text-book may be perused ; and with what avidity, and industry, and
perseverance will it be so ! The whole nation is in panoramic view
stretched out befoix; t'lem, and that as made up of so many dramas
with their entrances and exits, their conquering heroes, their sagacious
statesmen or their erudite savans. Every new particular they acquire
is inserted in a convenient place in the archives of their memory, put
into a suitable drawer where they can go and fetch it forth with the
utmost ease and promptness. And all are grou|>ed or clustered around
the leading epoch.

But another principle in the teaching of history, is, synchronology
or contemporaneous chronology, or the condition of other nations at
tlie time in the nation's history we may happen to be studying.
Chronology is of vast importance in the whole matter of history. We
are far from giving it the position that some do, making it the all in
all ')f history, but whilst we are not at all disposed to assign it such a
position, we would accord to it a very high and important place.
Every student of history should, for this purpose, construct a chrono-
logical chart for himself. The mode of procedure is very plain : —
Divide the blank chart into six great periods, corresponding with the
0000 years in the history of our world, that have nearly passed away.
These should be subdivided into ten parallels corresponding to the ten
centuries, and the leading events written upon each in contracted form.
This is all well, and all that is necessary for the particular history
under review, but it will not bring out with sufficient amplitud- the
synclironological aspects of the case. And what is necessary for this ?
Another chart is requisite, which may be styled the synchronological
river chart, exhibiting as it does by the swellings or contrr ctings, by
the ebbings and flo wings of rivers, all represented by the d.-awin^s of
rivers in crayon or ptxints of different colours flowing north and south,
and proceeding westward just as civilization and enlightenment have

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tlone. To complete the thing there ought to be, at the least, three
river charts, one for ancient, another for mediaival, and another for
modern history. There should always be one empire or kingdom with
u'hicli to compare others. In ancient liistory, perhaps, the best would
be the Assyrian empire. On the left hand side draw a winding and
sinuose river, with a space left on tiie right hand side sufficient to con-
tain a representation of Eg}'pt. On the left hand side draw a river
representing the Assyrio-Babylonian empire, so that it may be seen
exactly where Babylon swallowed up Assyria. Then to the westward
draw three nvers, representing the Medo-Persian, the Grecian and
Roman. Of course a comparatively small space will be required on
the chart for ancient history until about a thousand years before tlie
christian era.

The synchronour nhart of media;val history, that is, from 476 A. D.
to 1517 A. D., should bo constructed pretty much after the same
fashion, taking France as the standard of comparison, and commencing
thf river representing France as arising in the time of Clovis, witli
thf ol.lior nine kingdoms of Austria, Germany, Italy, Netherlands.
Pc land, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland and Turkey, foretold as arising
ou of the ashob of the Roman empire.

The chart I'cpresenting modern history, that is, from 1517 till the
p:esent period, should have Britain for its standard of comparison.
Hei T thci'e must bo rivers extending both eastward and westward,
emb.'uciug all the t' "'itorial discoveries of modern times, and the
accession of the varloiib colonies to the different kingdoms of Europe.
and especially Great Britain, with the new and independent states.

Such is a brief sketch of the synchronological charts. These ought
to be in every advanced educational institution, and every teacher
holding a first class comnjon school certificate ought to be abl'3 to
present to his pupils a series of oral lessons with said charts, as the
visible pictorial representation. After these oral lessons the pupils
should be required to draw for themselves charts after the same
fashion, with perhaps not the same minutia3. This, just tike the draw-
ing of maps, would fix the dates, &c., more lastingly on the memory
than the oft-repeated viva voce utterances. This wo hold to be the
true way in connexion with the preceding principle, viz., teaching b}
outlines, of giving the young an enlarged and accurate view of univer-
sal history, such a view at least as will impress the leading events on
the mind in a way never to be obliterated, and which will serve in all
time coming as a book of reference for any details that may require to
be expiscated. This is all that should be aimed at iu any, even the

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ART OF EDUCATION.

48.S

most advanced school. To go beyond this, is to confound and jumble
the whole historic record, is to load and clog the memory with facts
and dates of very little moment.

Another principle that should never be lost sight of in the teaching
of history, is, the careful holding up for the imitation of the young
whatever is commendable in the characters brought under our notice
at every succeeding stage, as well as for their abhorrence of what-
ever is detestable. This is right and proper at all times, what-
ever may happen to be the subject-matter of the lesson. The young
are much more the creatures of imitation than are those of more
mature years, and, therefore, parents, teachers and others of influence
shoi'J^ be constantly on the guard to improve every opportunity in
the formation and consolidation of character, of high toned intellec-
tual, xsthetical and moral bearing in those persons that may happen
to be consigned to our care. But this is specially needful in the teach-
ing of history. What is the nature of that branch of study? It is, as
has often been defined, nought but philosophy teaching by example,
or the embodiment in word and deed of the inner life of nations, or of
individuals, as making up the aggregate of nations. It is, therefore,
pre-eminently calculated to impress the minds of the young, to win and
attract their unsophitJticated hearts, and to charm and fliscinate into a
copying of the magnanimity and worth tha! may be presented to them.
It exhibits great and important truths, or facts, or principles, and these
not in didactic statement, or in argumentative reasoning, or in eloquent
abstract or declamatory appeals, but it does so by wrapping them up in
the every day life and incident of those who come forth in general
upon the stage of history, or in some dramatic or tragical cases, when
two or three actors are called upon to play their part, and to give
complexion, and tone, and character to the whole scene. Where is
there a more inviting or fascinating field to win and woo the best
affections of our nature on the one hand, or to call forth their denuncia-
tions, their curses and abhorrence on the other. This is even a sphere
of usefulness more captivating and alluring than that furnished by the
direct teaching of moralitv or religion. In the latter case, the bad
and corrupt principles of humanity are armed against the reception of
salutary impressions and of virtuous emotions. But in the former
case, there is no such formidable array of antagonists. Surely, then, it
behooves every right minded teacher to be on the alert, and to seize
every opportunity whereby a word in season may be dropped into the
ear of the class, and by which important lessons may be inculcated.

To do this well, and also to give effect to the preceding recommeii-

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(lations in the teaching of history, requires a mastery over the whole
range of this branch of knowledge which comparatively few teacher^
possess. And not only so ; they would require to be no vacillators or
equivocators. They would r''<iuire not only a full knowledge of the
historical even* themselves, but to have their minds thoroughly settled
on one side oi another ; and this involves no ordinary discretion on
the one hand, and manliness and intrepidity on the other. A certain
conclusion must be arrived at, and that conclusion fortified and
defended by arguments convincing and sound. Ah, did teachers but
thoroughly comprehend how much they might influence and imbue
the minds committed to them, how much more deep their responsi-
bility ! how much more exalted their privilege !

Natural Science, This branch of knowledge, so interesting and
inviting in its objects to the young at all periods of mental develop-
ment, may be divided into three distinct stages, all conducted by oral
lessons. 1. This stage furnishes a never-ending magazine of material
for object lessons. Whilst it is very proper that the teacher in the
primary keep a memorandum of all the objects he has presented to bis
class, there is no necessity of his observing any order, such as begin-
ning with minerals and going on till lie arrive at man. It is intended
at this stage that these objects be taken up promiscuously, one day a
stone ; another, an animal ; another, a bird ; another, a plant, &c.
The teacher should be well acquainted with every part of these
objects, and with the correct name of every part. If ^t happens to be
a new object, that the class has never seen, it should be introduced by a
comparison with some one bearing a resemblance, and with which the
children are familiar. The general appearance of the object or thing
should first be noticed, whether ugly or graceful, sombre or sprightly,
as the case may be. Then the parts may be taken in detail and care-
fully gone over in order. After this will come the properties or
qualities, and last of all the habits and uses. In some cases this order
might be conveniently reversed. The habits might be taken first, and
from these we may proceed to the structure jr constitution of the
object, and point out the adaptation of the one to the other. This
latter plan may be better fitted for very young children, and in con-
nexion with objects about which they know but little. But the grand
thing to be attended to in this exercise is to see that the class is really
trained to use the powers intended to be strengthened. Whatever are
the senses appealed to, these senses should have free and full scope
for operation. The teacher has merely to guide and train or help
when they cannot help themselves, not to substitute or supersede. At

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the end of every lesson there shouhl be a recapitulation, every new
fact or truth elicited should be recited, briefly, of course, and this
should be done by the whole class, so that evidence may be furnished
as to whether the lesson has been received.

Stage 2. Here the whole subject of comparison is introduced.
There is no need for a change of object, a change of treatment is all
that is required, and that consists in the legitimate application of the
principle referred to. There must, first, be a comparison insti-
tuted between the various parts and properties of the object under
review, that is, between the whole and its parts, between the size of
body and the legs, between the head and the neck, between the skin
and the habits, between the length of the neck and way in which it
gets its food, &c. Another class of comparisons may be instituted
between stones and metals, metals and plants, shrubs and trees, plants
and animals, ducks and hens, &c. And the teacher must endeavour,
above all, to draw from the children themselves the grounds or reasons
of these differences. This is the special province of the children, and
the teacher should spare no pains in securing their answer. These
exercises will be enhanced and rendered more useful when accom-
panied with preserved or real specimens, or pictures, or diagrams on
black-board. But the greatest enhancement of all would be the
accompaniment of verbal pictures.

Stage 3. This stage should also be carried on by oral lessons,
though these should be much more systematic and consecutive. In
these lessons science should be taught, but without the vestijje of
technical terms or erudite phraseology. First of all an oral lesson
should be given on the twofold division of all the objects of nature —
things without life and things tcith life. Tlie second lesson should
discuss the properties, the condition and composition of dead matter.
The third, the laws of attraction in its various modes of development
in natural science. The fourth, the attraction of combination or
chemical affinity. Here several lessons may be given on the science
of chemistry. The fifth lesson should be on the attraction of cohesion,
as laying the foundation of the science of mineralogy. Then pass on
to things with life, and give a series of oral object lessons on the science
of Botany, and from that pass to Zoology, and from that again to
Geology. With intelligent children in common schools well trained,
or in high schools or academies, a skeleton outline of these sciences
might be presented, and some of the technical terms employed that are
unavoidable. Such lessons would be of great utility in cultivating the
faculty of generalization. .. . ■

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Natural Philosophy. Thougli there arc heights and depths in tliis
branch of knowledge snfRcient to give enii)h)yment and to call forth
the energies of the most towering genius, there is, at the same time,
mucli that is level to the understanding of the young of all ages and
all grades of intellect. One great recommendation of almost all its
departments, and which renders it all the more susceptible of popular-
ization, is the instruments or apparatus for illustration and experiment.
It matters not what branch we take up, the proi)erties of bodies, or
the laws of motion, or the mechanical powers, or whether it be water
at rest or in motion, hydrostatics or hydraulics, or the science of
ajriform bodies, or of sound, or of caloric, or of optics, astronomy,
electricity, galvanism, magnetism, of one and all of these there are
innumerable illustrations, both in the shape of diagrams and instru-
ments, sufficient, some of them, to excite the interest of the young,
and others of them, to call forth the study of the most profound mathe-
matician. And how should this branch of knowledije b3 tauffht?
Unhesitatingly, we say, by oral lessons and by outlines. It were
altogether preposterous to attempt to teach Natural Philosophy iu
any one of its compartments through the medium of a text-book.
Almost all si.ch treatises, except those which deal with the very ele-
ments, are drawn up in a way sufficient to command the study and
application of the most ripe and cultivated minds. BcGides there is
much in them all, and especially when mathematical calculations are
applied, that would not awaken any interest on the part of the rising
generation. By oral lessons, however, we have it in our power to
.select the subjects invested with deepest interest, and to present those
views regarding them that we apprehend, in the course of our observa-
tions, to be within the reach of the understandings of those whom we
address. And when these lessons are sent home by the help of
diagrams and experiments, they seldom fail to interest. And the way
best fitted to keep alive this interest, and to awaken an avidity for
more, is not to dwell too long upon any one point, but to hasten over
the more popular subjects, and to seize only the more salient points in
the first outline. In the second outline, a few more details are taken,
and specially some more of its applications and uses. And so continu-
ously until the whole subject is pretty well wrought out and exhausted.
By the time the skilful teacher has gone through the course thrice,
the pupils in the more advanced section are pretty famil' v with the
whole subject.

And what a fund of valuable and practical information does this
branch pour into the mind. Indeed we know not one field more

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prolific, or one which will more amply repay the most diligent culti-
vation. There is scarcely an object to which our attention can be
called, scarcely a mechanical pursuit, scarcely a piece of manufacture,
scarcely the most common mechanical power, scarcely one of the
elements of nature, scarcely a modern improvement in economies,
scarcely a triumph in the application of science to the advancement and
happiness of the human species, where, in some one shape or another,
it does not come in to o<ir aid and succour. It is in this depart-
ment, pre-eminently, where in every step we are furnished with the
most glorious op[)ortunity of expounding tlie rationale or the science
of common things. Wherever we direct our eyes, we may discover
the phenomena, the laws and operations of the natural world at work
in adding to the gain and aggrandizement, as well as to the benefit
and happiness of the human species, and thus we are presented with
golden opportunities of securing the attention, and of wimiing the
interest of those, who, in other respects and in other circumstances,
would have remained utterly indifferent and passive. Just as there is
no object in which heat does not exist, so is there no object but yields
material that may be turned to the most advantageous account under
this branch of knowledge.

Psychology. This, like the preceding, is also a branch of knowledge
that should be taught by outlines. It is of greatest consequence, as
soon as a youth can look inward, to accustom him to fix his attention
on the operations of his own mind. It is altogether unnecessarv, at
first, to go beyond the difference subsisting between matter and miiid,
iu what they are like, and in what they differ. Then, the three-fold
division, into thinking, feeling, and willing, should be plainly pointed
out, and abundant examples given of each.

The next stage should embrace the simplest subdivision of the
intellect into fiiculties, with their appropriate definitions, also of the
emotions and will. Here, a list of the faculties of the intellect, and
of tlie sensibilities of the emotions, ought to be given of the simplest
clwracter with numerous exemplifications.

The third and last stage should consist of a more minute analysis of
the whole subject of mind. The nature of each faculty should
be clearly and fully delineated, and the knowledge of the pupils well
tested by the writing of essays upon the same. In connection with all
this, a selection should be made from the writings ot the best authors,
these writings carefully perused, and the leading features of t'le
author's mind from the said writings singled out and discussed.

Political Economy. This is another branch that should be taught

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by outlines. A few oral lessons should first be given on the subject
of civil government, showing its origin, its 1/enetlts, and specially its
forms. The last should be singled out and the difTerencc carefully
drawn between the constitutional and despotical ; the varieties of the
former and of the latter, with the best exemplifications both extinct
and living. Tliis should be followed by another series of lessons on
the rights and duties of the governor and gf>verned. Then, by ano-
ther, on the advantages of civil liberty, and the restraints and curtail-
ments which these necessarily impose on natural liberty. After these
great general princii>les are discussed and understood, the details of a
Batiou's resoui'ces should be opened up, with the exports aiid imports,
the receipts and expenditure, &c.

Ifi^^rt

RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.

Tliis chapter has far outgrown its original limits. This has arisen
not merely from a deepened conviction of the importance of the sub-
ject, as containing the very essence or marrow of the whole, but of
the necessity forced upon us, as we proceeded, of supplementing
largely in the shape of illustrations or pictorial representations. The
whole subject of oral lessons, for example, has been re-written, and
many additional pictures given.

It is of essential moment, at the outset of all discussions on the
subject of methodology, that the distinction that obtains in the appli-
cation of that term to the exterior and interior of education, be drawn.
In vulgar language, it is generally applied to the former, to something
appertaining to the nature of the Legislative enactment on education,
the provision made for the erection of school-houses, or text-books, or
supervision, or mode of supi)ort, &c. In the foregoing chapter, it is
used strictly in reference to the inner work of education, to all the
duties arising from the relation between teacher and taught, and espe-
cially as to the mode of conducting tlie recitation exercises.

The first section discusses the philosophy of method, which is seen
to consist in the adaptation of the subject and its treatment, to the
character of the recipient, to the average degree of talent and attain-
ment of scholars. It cannot be too frequently insisted on, that there
are just two ways in which any subject, whatever is its nature, can be
presented to the human mind, either in itself or in its relations, or
concretely and abstractly. Generally speaking, the first is best
adapted to the junior, and the last to the senior classes in school ; the
skill, experience and tact of the teacher are manifeste<l in this adapta-

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lion process. In tracing the history of the inner life of etlucation as
exhibited in the views entertained and propagated by the luminaries
that Arose on our educational liorizon, we have but traced the develop-
ment of mind in general, for as it has fiired with the one, so has it
with the other. Whatever the vicissitudes through which education
has passed, whatever its ebbings and Rowings, whatever its clouds and
sunshine, one thing has been appaient throughout, that whenever
mind, both of teacher and taught, has been brought in contact more
or less directly with the Scriptures of eternal truth, so has education
waxed or waned. In our attempts to reduce these historical details to
distinct systems of education, we experienced no small difficulty in
consequence of the blendings, the interminglings, the overriding of
marches that have practically prevailed. It is of consequence here to
remember the difference between method and system, the former
pointing to the principle or theory, and the latter to the principle
reduced to practice. We regard the division into the five systems,
rote, monitorial, exi)lanatory, objective and training, as holding a fair
medium, neither too particular nor too general. Perhaps some may
question the propriety of giving the rote the position of a system at all.
What influenced us in doing so was its marked difference from the
monitorial, and its prevalence under every system. Perhaps the term
word-mongery or verbal system would have been more appropriate.
From these five systems a selection must be made, and there was no
difficulty in doing so. Having determined the ol)ject of education in
first book, there was no difficulty in deciding which of the systems
seemed to provide the means most likely to accompli'^^'; that object.
If Divinity has enstamped its own impress on the training system, it
must of necessity be in accordance with the soundest philosophy.
Why should statesmen, and legislators, and jiatriots, and educationists
remain any longer in dubiety on this matter? Would that enlightened
and civilized nations felt that their chief duty was to outrival one
another in working out the practical influence of that system in com-
munities ! The summary and brief exposition of the leading charac-
teristics of the training system present, we think, a fair and compre-
hensive view of that system. It has a reference first to the recipients
of education, then to the mode of imparting instruction, then to its
adaptation to our social nature, and lastly, to its capability of taking
every possible advantage from any other system. It might easily
have been enlarged, but enough, we think, has been said to give to our
readers a bird's eye view of the whole, and this was all our aim. The
sixth, or last section, containing an exemplification of the training

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system in the mode of teaching the different brandies, is the most
ehihorate of the whole, and that because it is the most practically
useful of the whole. As to the branches of education, wo have pur-
sued the order observed in preceding chapter respecting the nature,
utility and position of these branches, enlarging more specially those
that enter more at length into the staple of a popular system, such as
English reading, grammar, arithmetic, oral lessons, geography. As
the subject of oral lessons, whether object or word-p*inting, is compar-
atively novel, and one whose specific purpose and aim many teachers
are still unacquainted with, we have considered it to be a duty incum-
bent upon us to give it a special share of our attention, both in the
xinfolding of principles and exemplification of lessons. Wo regard
these lessons, when judiciously gone about, as introducing a new era
into the matter of the inner life of education, and we felt that we
would be guilty of a dereliction of duty did we not, in this way, palpa-
bly lift our testimony in their support. Whatever may be the variety
of phases in the teaching of the different branches of education, aris-
ing from the peculiarity of the branch itself, we trust there is one
feature which our readers will not fail to perceive, that the same grand
body of principles runs through the whole, that one system reigns
triumphant. We are not careful in answering charges of repetition
of idea, as iteration and reiteration form jiart of the system.

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CHAPTER III.

THE INSTKUMENTALITY.

Sect. 1, School Premises — «. Site; h. Quantity of ground ; c. Size

OF THE mjlLDING; (/. FoUM AND ARCHITECTURE OF THE HUlU>IN(i;

e. Interior OF THE mriLDiNO, furniture, afi'aratus; y. Lighting op
THE school; (J. Ventilation; j. Enclosed play-ground, uses;
j. Graded schools; k. Outhouses. — Sect. 2. School Organization —
a. Kegistration ; h. Classification; c. Distriiiution of time.
Sect. 3. Management of Schools. Tins embraces two things—
1. Recitations, including assigwing of lessons, recitation of les-
sons, AVERAGE ATTAINMENT AT CERTAIN AGES, REVIEWS, PUBLIC EXAMI-
NATIONS. 2. School government, including — a. Means used for

SECURING good GOVERNMENT ; b. WuOLE DOCTRINE OF REWARDS AND
PUNISHMENTS.

Having discussed the science and the art of education, we now pro-
ceed to the consideration of the instrumentality necessary for carrying
the whole into effect. This consists of two parts — the instrument
itself, or that which is use to effect the object; and the agent or the

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jicting power. The former comprehends everything belonging to
school premises, — organi/ation, management and discipline, and the
latter evt^-ything belonging to the schoolmaster, — bis oirice, duties,
qualilications, means of obtaining the same, his didiculties and rewards.
And nec<l we say that, this department, in the educational process, has
been greatly undervalued. Neither the school-houso uor the school-
master has received the attention or consideration to which thev are
entitled.

The position we most unhesitatingly assume is that befitting school
acconunodation, and suitable furniture, apparatus, text-books, &c., are
just as necessary for the schoolmaster as a workshoi) and tools are for
the mechanic, and that professional (pialifications are just as much, if
not more needed, in the teacher than in the minister, doctor or lawyer ;
and, consequently, that preparatory training is just as much wanted
here a-^^ the serving of an apprenticeship is to the mechanic. But we
need not enlarge on these general topics. "We shall discuss the instru-
mentality in two separate chapters.

ScjiooL Prkmisf.s.

Site. The first thing to be looked at in the matter of the site is
the spot most readily accessible to the great bulk of the people in the
school section This, in a great measure, will depend on the way in
which the population is localized. If, for example, there is a small
village, or a densely peopled settlement, containing two-thirds of the
whole population of the section, the school-house ought to be placed
near, or in immediate proximity, to the great body of the inhabitants.
If the section is purely rural, and the population pretty regularly dis-
tributed, then the school-house should be as near the centre as possible.
But whatever be the character of the section or the spot selected, care
should be taken to see that it be removed from the road, at least
seventy yards, at a proper distance from all stagnant pools or low-
lying swamps or morasses, and also from all those places where vege-
table and animal decomposition is rampant, and where those malaria,
so deleterious to bodily health, are generated and propagated. And
now, what is the situation best fitted for the school-house ? We unhe-
sitatingly reply, a dry, airy situation, on a gentle slope, and with a
southern exposure. But whether it possess all these requisites or not,
one thing is indispensable, that the situation be thoroughly dry, and,
if not so naturally, that it be well drained before a stone is laid or
rafter put up. But not only should the ground be dry, it should, if
possible, command an attractive and extensive prospect, where the eye

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of the scliolnrs can freely range over all that is beautiful in the land-
scape, and tli<! mind be furnished with materials for the improvement
both of its intellectual and a'sthetical powers. In towns, it wen- advi-
sable that the school-house be as far as possible removed from crowded,
noisy thoroughfares, and especially from streets, notorious for being
infested with fevers and other ejjidemics.

Qitantity of ground necessary. If the site is In a purely rural
district, there should be enclosed for school purposes at least three
quarters of an acre. If, in a densely peopled locality, or in small
villages, where the ground is generally more valuable, every effort
should bo made to secure a quarter of an acre, and if this space cannot
be obtained in a suburban district, it would be in every way advan-
tageous to remove it even the distance of half a mile, and all, that an
arena for the development of the intellectual and moral powers of the
young, as well as a place for physical relaxation, be provided. In
towns, however, wo must be content with less space. If, at all practi-
cable, it should never be less, even here, than one-eighth of an acre.
The shape of the ground is of considerable importance. When it can
be obtained, the form should be oblong, and, if possible, the length
twice the breadth, or even more. This plan would give room in front
for the enclosed piciy-ground, and leave sufficient space between the
school-house and the other buildings behind.

Size of the hmldinf]. This will depend on the population of the
section. From the last census, it appears that the average number of
each family is six ; and school accommodation should be provided for
at least one-fourth of the whole i)opulation. Thi.-" will be sufficient,
not only for the present demand, but also for the natural increase of
the population for twenty-five years, the period of the ordinary dura-
tion of the school-house. Knowing, then, tlie number of families in
any given section, it will be (piite easy to calculate the number for
which school accommodation should be provided. It has been shown
on scientific principles that each school should possess a capacity to
allow to each scholar, at least 150 cubic feet of atmospheric air.
Another mode of computation, and that more practicable, is sometimes
adopted. The Committee of the Lords of the Privy Council on
Education in Britain, stipulate for eight square feet of superficial
area for each scholar, and make grants to the erection of school build-
ings only on condition that this stipulation is implemented.

It is now admitted by all competent judges that the American plan
of putting up the interior of the school-room is not only the best, but
pre-eminently the plan, inasmuch as it completely secures the end

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n plan
st, but
le end

intended, viz., the teacher's eye upon every cliild and every child's eyo
upon the teacher. This mode of seating demands a raucli hirger area
than in Britain. According to tliis plan, if we allow for the length 6
feet for entrance hall, 5 feet for teacher's platform, 2^ feet between
platform and rows of 'k'sk, and 2 feet 9 inches for each desk and seat ;
and for the width, allowing 2^ feet for the aisles, 4 feet for the desks,
and 2 feet for divisions between rows of desks, the following dimensions
will furnish ample accommodation for the number of scholars prefixed :

21 scholars, 26 X 21 in dear G 11. hall, 3 rows of desks.

29 X 21 " " "

32 X 21 " " "

33 X 27 in clear 8 ft. hall, 4 rows of desks

86 X 27 " " "

39 X 27 " " "

And so onward, adding 3 feet to the length for every additional 8
scholars. When the number of scholars amount to 50 or upwards,
there should be a class-room attached to each school.

Form and architecture of building. By far the most convenient
form is an oblong. The proportion betv/een the length and the
breadth will of course vary as the size of the area, though in no case
should the length exceed the breadth more than a half. It is exceed-
ingly desirable that the ceiling be high. Twelve feet is the minimum,
but, if possible, it should range from 14 to IG feet. The school-house
should stand north and south. As to the style of the architecture of
the building or buildings, much, if not all, depends on the means and
taste of the inhabitantf; of the section. With the views that but too
generally prevail in young settlements on the matter of education
itself, it would be unreasonable to expect that the school-house should
be in advance of the dwelling houses, but surely they ought to be on
a footing of equality both in their external appearance and in their
interior fittings. Wherever we find some taste displayed in the orna-
menting of churches, we consider that we are amply entitled to expect
the same in school-houses.

Interior of the building. Under the interior of the building we
comprehend all the fittings of the house itself, the furniture, apparatus,
and other conveniences. We lay it down, as a general principle of
the greatest importance, that everything connected with the building,
whatever be its character or style, aught to be in a finished condition
before it is occupied. All the fittings, too, connected with the stove,
the doors, the lobby or entrance hall, scrapers or mats, pegs for the
hats or upper garments, wash basins. Sec, should be provided, and a

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full inventory handed o^er to the teacher at the commencement of his
operations. Next to the buihiing itself comes the furnitiiro. The
American nation has in this respect set a noble example to the whole
civilized world. Here, whether we look at the health or comfort of
the scholar, or the benefit of the teacher, or at the great end of trjnca-
tion, everything is as near perfection as possible. In all their infant
or primary schools, the children, when not in the gallery, are generally
seated one by one ir. nice little armed chairs, some of the more
advanced having desks before them. In juvenile or common schools
while the seats are separate, the desks are constructed with all the
conveniences for holding paper, pen, pencil, ink, slate, books, &c.,
without the least confusion or mingling of the property of one with
another. These desks and seats in their mixed schools, are all graded
in nicest adaptation to the different ages of the scholars.

The first thing to be attended to in the arrangement of the furniture
is the teacher's platform and desk. The platform should be from
seven to eight inches in height, not less than five feet in width, and
should run along the whole of the north gable. The desk should vary
in shape and style according to the character of the school, and be of
a size sufficient to hold a full assortment of the articles needed by the
teacher. The desks should never be nearer the platform than 2^ feet ;
a greater space would be in every way desirable, as this is the place,
if there is n^^ separate class room, where a goodly number of the reci-
tation exercises must be none through. The desks and seats should
rise gradually from the front to the back, and should be arranged
either in three or four rows, according to the size or fornx of the
school. It is always desirable to have the younger children in front.
Under the leaf of each desk, there should run a board for the purpose
of holding the children's books. Each child should have his own seat
and a place for his books. In the open space in front of the raised
desks there should be a few moveable seats, which, as occasion
required, could be arranged in front of the master's desk, where any
particular class might receive a special lesson, while the rest of the
scholars are engaged in silent work at the raised desks.

It has been stated that when the school-room is large enough to
contain fifty scholars or so, it would be exceedingly desirable to have
a small class room. The most convenient place for such a room
would be immediately behind the .teacher's platform, and between the
girls' and boys' entrance hall, with a small gallery, or a number of
common settees for furniture.

After the furniture come the apparatus or tools, just as much

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ART OP EDUCATION.

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the propel ty ^if the section, and as necessary to bo provided out of
the general funds as the buihling itself. Now, whilst there is a
certain amount of apparatus indispensably requisite for every school,
there are sonic required for particular schools. In re"erenc-? to tho
former, there is perhaps none so indispen'sably necessary as the
black-board. From the abecedarian class up to the highest branch
in mathematics, this tool may at all times be called in with signal
benefit. When the subject umler consideration is presented to the
class by a skilfully constnicted diagram or picture on the black-
board, it is far more clearly appreh(Muled by the understanding, and
calculated to produce a far more vivid and lasting impression. Besides
what is perceived by one is perceived by the whole class, and thus a
fiir greater power is imparted to the teacher, when he knows how to
take advantage of it. There are several sorts of black-boards, — 1. A
very conunou one is painting black the wall immediately behind the
teacher's desk. This very soon loses its blackiiess, and re(piires con-
stant renewing. 2. Another way of constructing a black-board is by
a composition of lamp-black and vinegar, and this mixed with plaistci
paris before it is put on. This is perhaps the cheapest and best mode.
At a very moderate expense a stripe may be taken round the whole
house. 3. Another mode is by painting a wooden board and placing
it in a frame. 4. The last sort is by putting a black composition on
canvas. This kirnl is capable of being rolled up and of being used on
both sides. •' * "

The other indispensable requisites for every school are — 1. A good
and large map of the country. 2. The two hemispheres of large size.
3. A map of Palestine and a terrestrial globe. And in addition, there
ought to be a complete set of Oie be.'t editions of the authorized text-
book;^ with the most approved dictionaries and gazetteers. These
should be on the teacher's table, that they may be consulted by the
pupils at certain lixed times.

And now as to the special apparatus and tools, or those recpiired
for particular descriptions of schools, we may first i^peak of infant or
primary schools. These shoidd all b^ provided witli every poiisible
variety of pictures for object lessons ; an arithmetlcan or ball-frame
for teaching number ; the various linear measures, for measuring
heights and distances, with small holes in the ends, so that they may
be joined together by wire for the formation of the various geometrical
figures; colours; the current coinage c f the country ; the dllFerent
weights with balance scales ; box of bricks, for the construction of
buildings ; all sorts of plants and animals preserved or in pictures.

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lo a juvenile school well equipped, in addition to what has been
stated as indispensable for any school, there ought to be every variety
of map, blank, outline, embossed, climatic, charts for history, &c. ; a
small laboratory or chest of chemicals ; a museum of curiosities and of
the natural history objects in the neighbourhood.

In more advanced schools, whether designated grammar, high
school or academy, there ought to be a pretty full set of ancient maps,
of physical maps, Johnstone's natural philosophy maps, the various
instruments esseutiril for surveying, navigation, «S;c., and in short a
complete assortment of natural j^liilosophy apparatus. A good museum
containing types of the general objects of natural science, for study
and illustration.

For the due care and preservation of all this property there ought
to be suitable pryt>ses, properly constructed, under safe keeping with
lock and key, a printed catalogue and inventory, and all carefully and
periodically inspected by the trustees.

Lighting of the school. Light is of greater consequence both to the
vegetable and animal kingdom than many seem to imagine. The
assimilative process in the vegetable kingdom is all but inoperative
without the rays of tlie sun. That light is essential, too, to the health
and vigour of the animal kingdom, is not less manifest when we con-
trast those creatures which are bereft of the cheerful light of day,
with those who bask under the noontide of its enjoyment. There
cannot be the least doubt that light exerts a mighty influence on
the physical condition of the human species, and through that on the
mental. Ai.d hence the vast importance of the lighting of the school
houses.

The windows should consist of large panes, with not less than
two rows in lower and three rows in upper sash. They should be
placed in the east and west sides or the building, or on the right
and left side of the teacher and taught, and directly opposite to one
another, that when they are open, there may be a free current of air.
They should not be nearer the floor than four feet ; it would be in
every way advantageous if they were placed higher ; it would be bet-
ter for ventilation purposes, and better still more for the health of the
inmates. They should be made to open both from the top and tlie
bottom, but especially from the former, with curtains or blinds to
prevent too great a glare or profusion of light, when the rays of the
sun strike most directly.

Ventilation. In discussing the subject of physical education, the
principles on which ventilation rests have been fully explained. Our

LiiV- -f"

ART OF EDUCATION.

497

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purjiose at present is to point out the best mode by which this indis-
pensable requisite may be secured. After careful study and consider-
able experience of the diversified methods resorted to in more modern
times, and despite of the high authority with which some of these
have been recommended, we have been forced to the conclusion that
the good old-fasliioned one of opening the windows and doors during
every j-ecess, and especially the upper sashes of the windows, is, after
all, the best and cheapest. We say the upper sashes, because the foul
air, the carbonic acid gas, though specifically heavier than air, being
hotter and more rarified, naturally ascends and occupies the upper
part of the building, and the sooner it is allowed to escape, the purer
and more healthful will be the atmosphere. If, after the school-room
becomes vitiated, the under sash alone is ojiened, the good air, which
is principally in the lower part of the building, will thus make its
escai)e while the bad will remain, and by its descent render the atmos-
phere still more noxious, and thus greater harm than good be done.
On occasion then of every recess, the opening of the upi)er sash of
every window should be strictly attended to ; and one of the steadiest
of the pupils should be chaiged with this duty. There should be,
at least, one long recess of twenty minutes or quarter of an hour
in length during every diet of three hours. Two recesses of a shorter
duration, with the sashes opened each time, would even be better.
This would completely prevent the air from becoming vitiated, and
the time which, in the eyes of some, may appear all but lost, would
really be most profitably employed in consequence of the greater
energy that would be infused into the mind's of the pupils, and the
life and buoyancy that would be communicated to the teacher. It
would be well, too, to keep the door wide open during the continuance
of these recesses. When the weather is so intensely cold, that it would
lower the temperature too much to open the window, resort may be
li«d to the ventilator in the ceiling or in the sides of the building.
This, with a small gable lattice, to allow the foul air to escape, might
sulfice for all the time that such weather might last. For the preser-
vation of a wholesome atmosphere much depends on the care and
attention of the teacher himself. If at all competent for his situation,
every teacher ought to be so cognizant with the laws of animal physi-
ology as to make him realize the ti'anscendent importance ot dili-
gently attending to these matters.

Heating. Next to the ventilation ranks the temperature of the
building. This is especially the case in a country where the climate
demands artificial coloric for at least six or seven months in the year,

498

teacher's text-book.

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and where the intense heat of summer so relaxes and enervates the
animal system as to render it far more susceptible of cold in winter,
requiring a temperature ranging between G3° and 65° of Fahrenheit.
And how is such a temperature to be most equally and most cheaply
secured ? Notwithstanding all that has been said and written on the
subject of the unhealthfulness of stoves in school, and notwithstanding
all the ingenious plans proposed in reference to open iire places, we
have no hesitation in giving a decided preference to the stove, as being
both the most effectual and the cheapest mode, provided the stove is
in good condition and properly attended to. In open fire places three-
fourths of the heat ascend the chimney ; while scarcely a fourth gene-
rated, radiates from the front into the room. Besides, from the larger
consumption of fuel in open fire places, more oxygen is consumed ;
and this creates a rushing of cold air through every crevice from one
end of the room to supply the combustion going on at the other. A
stove, on the other hand, can be placed in any central convenient part
of the room, whence the heat will radiate in all directions, and thus
maintain a much more even and uniform temperature. This is also a
cheaper method. The combustive process being much slower, does
not levy such a tribute upon the oj ^en, and, consequently, does not
consume more than a fourth of the tuel. The only objection of any
weight that can be brought against the stove is its tendency to consume
the aqueous vapour and to carbonize the atmospheric air. This, when
ventilation is neglected and the temperature above blood-heat, as it
not unfrc^uently is, must be exceedingly prejudicial to health, and
oftentimes sow the seed of pidmonary and other diseases, aggravated
in no ordinary degree, when both teacher and taught, emerging from
a vitiated, infectious atmosphere, and plunging with their system thus
relaxed into one considerably below the freezing point. But what
good thing is not liable to abuse, and the greater the danger resulting
therefrom, all the more should we be on our guard. But after all,
there is no need of the air becoming too dry, and no fear of its doing
so, provided the ventilation and temperature of the room are properly
attended to. To obviate all risk and supply any deficiency of aqueous
vapour that may arise, surely there is no great trouble in placing on
or near the stove an evaporating vessel, partially filled with pure
water. If the stove and the pipes are in good order, the fuel of best
description, the damper attended to, with the amount of ventilation
and temperature that ought to exist in every room, there is no more
danger arising from this method of heating than from an open fire-
place. Nay, from the improvements recently effected upon stoves in

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general, this kind of heating can be rendered still more perfect, and
we know no greater improvement in the construction of stoves for
large rooms, by means of which heated air is emitted and curients of
cold air from the sides or ends of the building in a great measure pre-
vented. This is done by opening up a communication with the cold
air through the underpinning of the building, and inserting into the
aperture a tube four or six inches in diameter. The cold air passes
from this tube into flutes appended to the stove, or around the sides
of the stove. Here it becomes heated, and is radiated in all directions
from the stove, thereby counteracting all currents, and helping largely
the preservation of an equality of temperature.

Enclosed Pldygronnd. Those who have been accustomed to regard
the playground merely as a place of physical relaxation or of bodily
pastime and amusement, are startled at the very mention of the epithet
enclosed, and all the more when the school-house, to which tiio play-
ground is appended, happens to be located in a purely rural district.
" What," they ask, " is the use of enclosing ground for such a purpose,
when the scholars may roam at will both in field and forest."

It is no doubt quite true that the playground round the school is
intended to furnish an arena for physical exercises, for all sorts of
games and amusemeats. For this purpose, when properly equipped,
it is provided with j. full set of gymnastic apparatus, a paraj>et wall for
playing at ball, twenty feet in height, ground for sand holes, level
places for roiling balls, and esjiecially a covered playground both for
wet and very hot weather. One sort of apparatus seems necessary in
all towns or places where the playground is very limited, is a circular
swing. There should be generally two of these, one for the boys, and
the other for the girls. At this exercise the children never weary,
and it is decidedly safe, much more so than a common swing.

The relaxation and exciting bodily exercise arising fix)m these
games, and from exposure to the fresh air, at certain intervals during
the day, will produce a very salutary influence upon the intellectual
vigour of the scholars in their indoor work. Frequent recesses and
indoor physical exercises are oftentimes objected to, as an unprofitable
encroachment on the school hours of the children, and as having little
or nothing to do with their intellectual labour. Never was there a
greater delusion. These exercises, instead of diminishing, will vastly
augment the amount of intellectual labour. But, however important
all this may be, however beneficial the playground may be both to the
bodily health and' intellectual vigour of the young, there are benefits
far higher aud more lasting — we refer, of course, to those that are

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TEACHERS TEXT-BOOK.

moral. This, according to the training system, forms the theatre of
the (lisphiy of the real tempers, and dispositions, and habits of tho
pupils, and by which the traijier obtains that knowledge which he can
turn 10 the most profitable account, both in the encouraging of what is
right, and in the dissuading from what is wrong ; in one word, in the
moulding and fashioning of moral caaracter. Now, in the midst of all
these scenes, the master, who is, according to the training system,
taking the superintendence of tho scholars in the playground, is quietly
mingling with the whole, encouraging and animating on the one hand,
and reproving and rebuking on the other, sometirres taking share in
the games, and at other times explaining how they ought to proceed,
watching the covetous and avaricious, taking notes of their misde-
meanours, and either correcting them on the spot or waiting till they
are mustered before him in gallery, &c , where an oral lesson may be
given immediately on their return to school-room, or the same day
when the deed is perpetrated, at some more convenient season. It is
in this way that tho teacher is furnished with the real knowledge of
the character of his pupils, gets material for moral and religious
instruction, and, by the conduct of some, derives arguments and pleas
to dissuade from evil and encourage to what is goo<l. Here, in one
word, he gets his best and most instructive lessons. lie observed, for
example, a boy picking up the favounte marble of another, and putting
it vei'y adroitly in his pocket, while the owner was searching for it
with greatest anxiety. The master takes no notice of it ; but when
the children are again seated in the school gallery, as usual, he com-
mences the process of examination, elliptically and interrogatively, in
the shape of a story of a boy who stole his neighbours marble or some-
thing else. In a moment the culprits head hangs down ; it is unneces-
sary to mark him out, as he is visible to all by his downcast and reddened
countenance. In the meantime, the trainer reminds the child and all
present that although he had not observed him, God assuredly had ;
or rather he draws out this statement from the children themselves,
the criminal at the bar remaining perfectly quiescent. The question
may be put. What punishment f Some of the more furious boys,
whose energies require perhaps only to be regulated in order to make
them noble characters, call out. Beat him, cnffhim; all the rest, in
the mean time, keeping silence, conceiving such punishment to be
rather severe. The master, however, will ask another question or
two, ratlier than fulfil the commands of this unmerciful jury. Is this
boy in the habit of stealing your playthings ? No, sir. None of yon
have seen him do such a thing till . . . now. Then you think this is

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ATIT OP EDUCATION.

501

n, . . . ^first offc.ncp. Ought a child to be punished as sevcroly for a
first, as for a second or third offence ? No, sir. Wluit then shall we
do to this boy ? Instantly the girls will naturally cry out, Forgive
him, forgive him. Now, mark the natural effect upon all parties; the
guilty is condemned by his fellows — the milder feelings are brought
into play, and all have been exercised in the principles of truth and
justice. For such high and important purposes an enclosed playgroinid
is indispensably necessary. In towns the pla^'ground should be walled
around. In the country a wooden paling might sometimes do, and
the middle area ought to be levelled, having a very gentle slope, so as
to i)ermit the water to flow off freely after a shower, and also be laid
down with pit or river gravel, which binds better and is cleaner than
ashes. Everything should be kept clean and neat, and such important
habits will not be lost in after life ; yea. the moral taste may be formed,
which delights in having the front of every cottage door neat and
clean, and its sides decked out with the rose, the clematis and the
woodbine ; and similar habits carried out into the crowded lanes of
the city, would add greatly to the health, comfort and hajipiness of
the community.

Graded Schools. All hitherto advanced, refers to individual schools,
whatever their character, miscellaneous, initiatory, juvenile, high or
academic. A graded school is one consisting of two, or three, or four,
or more compartments under the same roof, with the scholars all
classified according to age and att^ainments, with separate teachers in
every department, and yet all acting harmoniously under one head.
Wlierever 150 children and upwards in any one locality within a mile
and a half, or even two miles, from the centre can be collected, there
ought to be such an establishment. This is a far more efficient and
clieapor mode than teaching such a number in two, or three, or four
miscellaneous schools, consisting of 30, 40, 50, or 70 children of all
ages, from 5 to 15 and upwai'ds. In such schools there is such aa
endless multiplicity of branches, and such a number of grades in
these branches, that it is hard work for the teacher to go througli, in
the most perfunctory way, the recitation exercises every day. 1'here
is not a moment to spare for the teacher to bring home the subject to
the understanding or conscience of the pupils, and far less to weave it
into the texture of their minds. Indeed the teacher, however skilful
and laborious, but rarely comes in contact with the minds of his pupils,
except in the exercise of their memory, and to attempt to make that a
memory of ideas to any one class, would be to the neglect or prejudice
of others in school. This can only be obviated by resorting to graded

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teacher's text-book.

schools. This forms one of the finest illustrations of the division of
labour. We know the huge power of this principle in every other
department, how it renders articlea, altogether essential for our com-
fort, not only one-half the price, but infinitely better executed by
liaving certain individuals doing a part of it, and unceasingly engaged
therein, than entrusting the whole to one person. Why, a pin could
not be made by one person for less than 12^ cents, whereas a hundred
can be had for that cost, and all just as required, made to perfection.
For the carrying out of this principle, there ought to be two, or
three, or four departments under the same roof — a primary and inter-
mediate, or a primary, intermediate, preparatory and high school
department. Each of these should be of such dimensions as would
easily contain 65 children as the minimum, and the high school depart-
ment, when there is such, should be ample enough to hold both the
primary and intermediate, all the children attending which, should
morning and evening unite together in devotional exercises, that it
may be felt to be but one establishment with different departments.
For this purpose a gallery should be erected at one end of the high
department, sufficient to accommodate 150 children or upwards. The
primary should also have a gallery, with 15 or 20 armed little chairs
in front for t purely infantine department. The younger the chil-
dren attend a school, the easier and more successful will the
training process be. Many are quite able to attend at four years of
age. To every one of these graded schools there should be separate
entrance halls — separate playgrounds and separate outhouses. The
boys and girls in the primary unite altogether in playground aud
offices, the boys in the intermediate and high school should be in the
same playground, though it would ho in every way advantageous that
they enter by separate passages. The girls, in like manner of the
high school and intermediate, should have the same playground and
offices. If possible, there should never be less than two acres of
ground set apart for a graded school. This is the minimum. One
acre over and above might be most advantageously disposed of for
the comfort and convenience of such an establishment. The boys and
girls in all these departments should be exercised together in all the
branches of education. This, when the establishment is pervaded by
a healthful moral tone, exerts a powerful reciprocating influence both
intellectually and morally. But the boys and girls of both interme-
diate and high school should have distinct entrance halls, distinct play-
grounds and distinct offices. And, therefore, the greater the quantity

ART OF EDUCATION.

503

of the ground, the more easily manageable, the more serviceable in
these respects.

Outhouses. A complete set of offices or outhouses are just as need-
ful for a school-house as for any other residence or dwelling. There
ought to be first a covered

Plat/house. The school arrangements cannot be carried out with
anything like regularity, if the children are obliged to remain in the
school-room when the weather is unpropitious, when it is such as that
it would be improper for them to be exposed to it. In this country
there is often weather both in the midst of winter and summer to
which it would be quite dangerous to subject the children to, and
which renders a playhouse indispensably necessary. It would be of
great benefit, even for the ventilation of the school-house, if the chil-
dren were out of it even for 8 or 10 minutes- This may be too
expensive in the common schools of the country, but it ought to be an
invariable accompaniment of a graded school. Indeed there ought to
be two, — one for the males and another for the females.

Woodhouse. In this country, and throughout the colonies, generally,
when wood forms the staple fuel, a woodhouse is indispensable. It is
next to impossible to preserve an equal temperature in a school, unless
there is an abundant supply of well-seasoned wood, and such an article
cannot be secured without a woodhouse. Independent of the accom-
modation and comfort of such a provision, it would save as much every
year in the quantity of the wood consumed, as well as the preservation
of stoves, pipes, &c., as would pay its whole expense.

Water Closets. Every possible provision should be made in this
department. Every common school ought to have three such places
perfectly distinct ; one for the teacher, one for the girls, and one for
the boys. The teacher's ought to be constructed between the other
two. These houses should be as near the boundary line as possible,
behind all the other buildings. If it can be at all arranged, both the
woodhouse and playhouse should intervene, and this can be easily
managed, if the ground is of the form already described.

In all the departments and in all the houses, offices, &c., the strictest
attention should be paid to cleanliness. Some children are exceed-
ingly filthy and disorderly in their habits, and will require constant
watchfulness, the most thorough supervision for some time till the
opposite habits are contracted and established. These outhouses
should be aispected every day, and every effort put forth to preserve
the whole of the outer as well as the inner of the establishment in
tidiness and cleanliness. It were well to put two or three of the older

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TRACIIER'S TKXT-nOOK.

and moro steady of tlio boys in cliargo of tliese outhousos every week
or niontli, and render them responsihlc ]Jut even witli all this, tlio
head master or teacher should faithfully inspect the whole outer
premises every day.

Section TI. — School Oiuianization.

By school organization we understand all the arrangements entered
into for the purj)ose of setting agoing tlie school machinery. It bears
the same relation to school management that <rermination does to
vegetation, or that regeneration, a term in theology, does to sanctilica-
tion. It comprehends registration, classificatiou and distribution of
time, with all their concomitant elements and modilications. These
are essential to the efTective conducting of a school establishment, and
show very clearly the necessity of a special education in the business
of teaching. AVe may be good scholars ourselves, but if we are igno-
rant of how we ought to proceed in organizing ouv school, the highest
attainment will stand us but little stead when overtaken with sumo
dilFiculty appertaining to the exterior arrangement.

School registration. An accurate body of educational statistics is
of the greatest possible utility to the teacher, to the parents of the
children at school, to the trustees or committee of management, to the
nation at large, and still moro to the children themselves. It is of
service to the teacher, because it enables him periodically to ascertain
the real condition of his establishment, what pupils are attending
regularly, what progress they are making, &c. Again, it is of use to
the parents, who are dissatisfied with the slender progress of their
children. They lodge a complaint v/ith the teacher. An appeal is
made to the register, and the irregularity of attendance but too palpa-
bly demonstrates the cause of their educational failure. Again, it is of
use to the trustees or committee of management, and through them to
the whole surrounding neighboui'hood, leading to the discovery of the
causes of epidemics, and thereby productive of the best sanitary results,
as well as securing for the district a much more efficient educatioi.

But, perhaps, it is to the nation at large that the greatest benefit
flows. Discussions are continually waged respecting the state of a
nation's education. All parties appeal to statistics. But before any
valid conclusions can be drawn therefrom, it is needful to consider in
what way these statistics have been collected. Probably not moro
than two-thirds of a given territorial district have been reported on.
The other third is in vastly the worst condition, insomuch that the
educational authorities are ashamed to expose its nakedness. And

AUT OP EDUCATION.

505

what is (lone in tlio case ? The average of the whole is applied to this
oiio-third, and tlius the matter is supposed to be assorted. And there
is no way of obviating these difricultles but by a body of well planned,
tlioi'oughly digested, and carefully kept school registers. Such mate-
rials, in possession, would bo wortli a thousaiul s[)eecl»es either on the
one side or other, by those who are inclined to take a too flattering
view of the state of matters, or by tliose who may feel disposed to
underrate or depreciate both the matter of (piantlty and quality. With
such a body of statistics any state or province may not only arrive at
correct views of its educational condition, but also discover wherein
the elllciency or defect lies. And surely this is worthy every exertion,
.uid toil, and sacrifice, not merely to get at the seat of the disease, but
still more to find out the apidic^ation of the suitable remedy.

r>ut there is another benefit of registration not yet noticed, perhaps
of higher value than all, that of being employed as an incentive to the
scholars, to proper behaviour on the one hand, and to diligent ap[)lica-
tion to study on the other. This has been tried in some parts of the
United States, and we believe with no small measure of success. A
daily record is carefully kept of everything appertaining to the educa-
tional life of each child, and at the end of each term a smnmary is
drawn out. This summary is enshrined within a richly ornamented
frame suspended in a conspicuous place in the edifice, and kept there
as an enduring memorial of the school life of every child that has
attended the institution. To rest upon this application of registration
as the grand instrument of discipline in any school establishment, is,
in our opinion, to expect too much from it ; is to exalt it far beyond
its capabilities. It may be very well adapted in some cases, but alto-
gether unsuitable in othera ; it may be effectual for a certain period,
but afterwards it may become altogether nugatory. Besides to make
diis the only plea or argument, which, after all, unless carefully admin-
istered, partakes pretty largely of the selfish element, lessens the
high mandate of moral obligation, of appeals to conscience and duty.

A thorough system of registration must necessarily have respect to
three things : — The time the scholar has been at school, the regularity
of his attendance, his general progress and behaviour. These three
ol)jects will necessarily Tequire three distinct kinds of register, —
1. Register of admission and withdrawal ; 2. Register of attendance,
and 3. Register of progress. In a large school it will be necessary to
hwa in addition to the above, an alphabetical list numbered, so that
reference can be made at once to any scholar.

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ART OF EDUCATION.

507

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Index

Name.

Ago

From Monday 7th May, to Saturday
12th May.

Mon.

Tues.

Wed.

Thure.

Fri.

No. present daily.

•

Average for week.

No. present any time during
week.

Average number of days at-
tended by each child.

No. on register.

The above is a specimen of a register of atteudance, containing all
that is essential for the purpose. Other columns can easily be added.
One, for example, showing the number of days each scholar has been
in attendance ; another, bringing out the principal causes of irregularity
or want of punctuality. As nothing so largely affects the utility and
comfort of the school establishment as the irregularity of the attend-
ance of pupils, no pains should be spared, or sacrifice begrudged for
its removal or diminution. When the school consists of several
departments, when there are assistants with large sections or classes,
there should be class registers, and a general summary taken every
Friday afternoon by the head master. In all well ordered systems of
registration there is provision made for quarterly, semi-annual and
annual summaries. Every effort should be made on the part of the
educational authorities in every country that these registers be regu-
larly posted and most carefully preserved.

Classification. By this is meant the act of arranging the scholars
in classes, in all the branches, according to their real attainments.
This is one of the most important and difficult matters connected with
the organization of a school. If justice is not done here, if the pupils
are not properly classified, the teacher will expend a great deal of his
energies to no purpose, and the pupils will derive little or no advan-

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tiige from the sympatliy of miinl)crs. At the oommoneement, thou, of
the tcjiohor's ciiroor in any one hicality, ho shoultl devote no small
share of his attention and study to this suhjeet, as one deeply atleeting
tlie whole of his future usefulness in that locality. And what is the
principle that ought to guide him in the matter of elassifii-ation ? T le
fairest and the best principle in such a case undoubtedly is the capa-
city or the real mental calibre of the scholars. This, bovver er, is
impossible, as there is no guage or touchstone by which to get at such
a point. The nearest appro.vimatton to this i;i the attainment of the
scholar • generally, a pretty fair criterion or index of the capacity or
endow iiiort of the mind. And how should the teacher proceed in the
work of classification in aceoi'dancc with this principle ? lie should
decide on some branch as the standard, and then on the number of
classes in that branch. The best standard in a common school is (he
English branches, embracing reading, spelling, grammar and history.
As to the number of classes in this department, nmch depends on the
age and attainments of the scholars. It is desirable that they hv. as
few as possible, so as not to be at the expense or the detriment of the
pupils. If few, the teacher will have time to develop the minds of his
pupils by the exposition and appliance of the various subjects. If
numerous, his whole time will be occupied in hearing the exercises
prescribed, and thus little be done for the cultivation and expansion of
the minds of the scholars. As much here dei)ends on the age and
general education of the scholars, it might be exceedingly desirable in
every point of view, and put him in possession of valuable information
for future guidance, were he, before commencing oi)eratious, formally
to pay a friendly visit to the families of the section.

Havinj; decided on the number of classes, the next thinfj to be done
is to fix the maxinnnn and minimum of attainment of each class, that
it neither be loo hiiih for the lowest, nor too low for the hifihcst. It
will generally be found that four classes in the English departmtMit
will be enough. These will embrace the following : — 1. The begin-
ners, or those in the alphabet, and reading and spelling monosyllabic
words. 2. Reading easy narratives, spelling by ear and to dictation, al)Io
to give in their own language an abstract of lesson prepared, with
elements of grannnar and history of native country. 3. Read any
common book, either poetry or prose, spell from spelling book sii|)
erseded, parsing, grammatical analysis, history of Groat Britain.
4. Highest English reader, jirinciples of elocution, recitation exercises,
composition, figures of speech, punctuation, history — outlines of univer-
sal history.

«="

4..

ART OF KDtJCATION.

509

Arithmetic. It does not at all follow that tLc pupils who are as
near aliko as possible in the English ])ranches are su ii> the others,
cspecit'ily in arithmetic. Some possess great aptitude and readiness
in the aecjuisition of language, and yet betray quite the opposite ten-
dency in mnuber, and in all abstract sciences, i.nd vice rers<t. Ilence,
it may happen, that those every way <jualiiied for the fourth class in
English, may scarcely be able for the third iu arithmetic, and the
reverse. This is one chief difficulty in the matter of classification.
And it must be faced. Evervthing in the arranfjements of scliool
must be ordered in a way that will conduce most extensively to tho
welfare of the pupils, whatever the labour or inconvenience to the
teaclun'. In every department ';ach scholar sliould, if [xjssible, occupy
the place for which he is competent, neither too high nor too low, but
as near as possible adapted to the actual attainment. The arithme-
ticians should be as carefully classified as possible. Generally speak-
ing, they may be divided \\\U> four sections: — 1. Those in the funda-
mental simple rules, and the longer they continue in these the better
for their future progress. 2. Compound rules, tables and reduction.
3. Eractions, rule of three, interest, &c. 4. Decimals, and all the
higher rules. N. B. — Mental arithmetic is carried on throughout all
the stages.

Ctvography. Geography may be divided into two departments —
elementary and systematic. The former is carried on orally, and the
latter through the medium of a text-book. This naturally divides the
classes into two, which may be subdivided into other two. In this
branch, as in others, nuich good will be eH'ected, by bringing all the
scholars of the different sections in tlie same branch together, once a
week, or once a fortnight, and examining them by outlines.

Penmanship. In this important branch, it is but rarely the scholars
are classified. We see no reason why they shoiild be here ^ -o
isolated than in any other. On the contrary, from 'ts being a mechan-
ical art, we can see all the greater benefit arising from competition, or
the stimulating of the emulative principle. There ought also to be
three or four classes in writing.

Such is a summary of the classification in tlie branches of a common
school education. The classes in a common school could scarcely be
fewer, but they can easily be extended or subdivided, and in graded
schools they are so, corresponding to their extent or subdivision. In
all the advanced branches, whether iu mathematics or classics, the
number of classes will of f' .urtic depend upon the degree of progress
Oach group has attaiueil. The register of progress must bo regulated

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entirely by the matter of classification. Whatever the plan pursued
ill the one, must necessarily largely affect the other. Character and
progress, conduct and attainment, the cultivation of the intellect and
conscience should always go hand in hand. This union will go far to
neutralize the injurious influence of prizes or rewards ; at all events,
it will raise moral worth to an equality of value with intellectual
attainment, and this, to say the least, is a step on the road to its legit-
imate position, to the vantage ground, which is its due. Both pro-
gress and deportment will be most easily and accurately recorded by
figures. Some take 9 as the standard of the former and 5 of the latter,
but this is purely optioL-il. All depends on the minuteness and cir-
cumstantiality with which the matter is gone about.

Distribution of time in, schooL To begin with the younger classes
and go on with the more advanced until all were finished, whatever
time it might take, used to be the old fashioned style of procedure with
the exercises or work of a school. Sometimes the classes were called

up, as soon as t' cy had the tasks prepared ; and strange scenes were
wont to take place in connection with the matter of preparation ; the
teacher asking class after class in rotation to come, and receiving for
answer, from one and all, "not ready yet sir." By this practice not only
did the utmost irregularity prevail, but the greatest injustice was in-
flicted alike on subjects and pupils. At all events, it could hardly be s.^id
that each subject was treated according to its relative importance.
By a wise and judicious distribution of time, whether in the mo iter of
recitation or of study, and by each class being aware of its own work,
not only will more justice be done to each branch, but better order
maintained, and more projrcss made. In the performance of this
task, various elements muo; be taken into account. There is, first,
the character of the school, whether a common or a regularly graded
school, and what the external arrangements of both.

"Wherever the section can command 1 50 schoolable children, the
law should insist upon a graded school being established. Indeed
where there are 100 schoolable children within the distance of two
miles from school, there ought to be a gradation school — a primary
and juvenile at least. In a well conditioned state of things, education-
ally, 80 of these children ought to be regularly at school. In a mis-
cellaneous school it is utterly beyond the power of one teacher, however
well equipped or experienced to do anything like justice to such a
number ; and as there must thus be a division of some shape or auo-
ther, the questior. comes to be whether there must be two separate
schools, carrviiur on all the branches of a common education or one

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ART OP EDUCATION.

511

graded school. This question is answered by the settlement of another,
■whether the education given shall be a purely mechanical thing or an
intelligent exercise, with the view of strengthening the various powers
of our rational nature. As no man of common sense would calmly
and deliberately prefer the former, whatever might be the cost, the
question is thus fixed and sealed. And when to this is added the
demonstrable fact, that it is one-third cheaper, even on the smallest
possible scale, it brings along with it a power fitted to level all oppo-
sition. If, then, a graded school is decided on, the coui'se of procedure
is plain and palpable, viz., the erection of a building, with as many
apartments as there are grades in the section, each apartment provid-
ing accommodation for from 40 to G5 scholars, it being understood that
in proportion to the grades so are the capabilities of the teacher in the
matter of number. If, on the other hand, the school-house is a fair
specimen of what such a structure ought to be in a rural section or
parish, such as we have described, much may and ought to be done in
the internal arrangements, that will largely affect the matter of the
distribution of time. If, for example, there is a separate class-room,
whither the teacher can repair with a group for the special exposition
of principle connected with some lesson, whilst the remainder of the
pupils, or, at least, a certain portion of them, are engaged in silent
preparatory studies, even this exterior advantage in the building will
modify the matter now under consideration. The Tripartite division,
as it is called, will do this still more. This is a comparatively novel
arrangement, introduced by Mr. Oliphant of Edinburgh, and after-
wards systematized by Mr. Mosely, one of Her Majesty's inspectors
of schools. This plan takes its rise in the application of a wider clas-
sification of the branches of instruction than is i.sual, and has for its
object the bringing of every child daily in direct contact with the
instruction of the head master. It contemplates the erection of a
building with three compartments, furnished after a different fashion,
the one with desks, the other with seats arranged in squares, or
rectangles, or curves, and the other with a gallery. The scholars, of
which there are supposed to be from 150 to 200, are divided into
three sections, which, after the religious exercises, repair into the
separate apartments, the first into the desk room, where they engage
ill work requiring the desk, such as writing, drawing, slate arithmetic,
book-keeping ; the second into the seat room, where they take the
more mechanical exercises, such as the working of accounts in any
rule of arithmetic after the rule has been explained, spelling, acquisi-
tion of the quality of fluency in reading, &c. ; and the third into the

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gallery room, where they ohtain the explanation of some lesson or the
exposition of some principle. The whole establishment is condncted
by one master and two regular assistants, one male and the other
female, if there are females in attendance, or it may bo by one regular
assistant, and four or five monitors or pupil teachers. The assistants
occupy the desk and rectangular room, and the head master is pretty
steadily occupied in the gallery room. The scholars change rooms
every hour, so that the head master has every one in attendance twice
with him every day. This is considered the chief charm of the
arrangement, and is, perhaps, the best device that could be planned
for such an object. But the plan is expensive, suitable only for chil-
dren in certain circumstances, and not at all likely to be speedily
adopted.

Another element that must be weighed in the construction of a time
table, is the teaching power at command. There are, properly sjieak-
ing, but three kinds of assistants that the teacher can call in. There
is, fn-st, the regular and thoroughly trained assistant to take any
department in a common school, or the complete management in any
apartment in graded schools. There are pupil or -ipprentice teachers.
This is a class of assistants that has been called into existence in more
modern times by the Lords of the Committee of the Privy Council on
Education in Britain. This is an arrangement by which a teacher
holding a Queen's certificate, as it is called, can engage a certain num-
ber of his pupils, proportionately to the number of scholars, to act as
his assistant for five years, from 13 to 18 years of age, and whom he
instructs both in scholarship and professional qualifications, and for
which he receives a certain amount in the shape of a bonus. These
pupil teachers are examined every year by Her Majesty's inspectors
on the matter of progress, so that both head master and pupil teachers
are stimulated. This is an admirable arrangement, and, if judiciously
gone about, cannot fiiil to be in every way advantageous to the teacher's
calling. There are monitorial assistants, that is, a few of the best
conditioned of the scholars are selected by the master to act as assistants
to him in some of the more mechanical exercises. These, of course,
receive all their directions from the teacher, and carry on their own
studies besides. If he give any acknowledgment for their service, it
is generally more in the shape of rewards than of payment. Though
we have expressed ourselves in another place as strongly opposed to
the monitorial system as such, we are fur from saying that there are
not many schools, where such assistance may be called in with great
benefit to the cause of education. Whenever such materials arc at

w^\

ART OP EDUCATION.

513

the illsposal of the skilful teacher, and when the exercise is purely
mecliiuiical in its nature, he should undoubtedly lay hold upon such
tassistance.

Another element here is the numher of hours, daily, tlie teacher
is to be engaged in school. This subject has lately engaged the atten-
tion of educationists and philanthropists. The general feeling seems
to be to contract rather than extend the time the public school is in
session. Our decided conviction is, that six hours of actual work are
not too long, provided there is a recess of 8 or 10 minutes at the end
of every hour ; if not, we consider five hours enough.

The last element for consideration in the allotment of time is the
relative importance of the branches of education taught, viewed in
connection with the grade or stage of progress of recipients. This is,
perhaps, the most essential point of any. Generally speaking, the
branches that are more mech'-iical in their nature, and impose a
severer tax on the memory, will occupy more time in the early stages,
and those that lay c heavier burden on the reflective in the more
advanced classes, i he principal employment of the primaries will be
oral lessons, and English reading with spelling ; of the middle classes,
the memoriter and mechanical process of language and arithmetic ; and
of the senior or advanced, the higher branches of arithmetic and of
composition, and those requiring the exercise of the abstract powers.
We do not of course mean by mechanical, that any exercise is to be
committed, or any lesson recited without a thorough knowledge of its
import, or that the memory of the understanding does not uniformly
precede that of words. This were in direct antagonism to the system
we have been uprearing. What is meant is this, that after the lesson
has been examined or the principle well understood, there oftentimes
is a great amount of mechanical work to be done before arriving at
accuracy and expedition in the doing. We may be familiar with the
rule in spelling or in arithmetic, and yet we know tliat we can neither
be good spellers nor arithmeticians without a large amount of practice,
aud this is all that is intended to be conveyed by these mechanical
processes.

On the supposition that all these elements, and others, requiring
certaiu modifications in the arrangements, have been duly weighed, we
now present in tabular form, a sample of the order of procedure. We
'hall first show how the time should be appropriated, in accordance
with the relative importance of the branches taught, having always a
view to the stage of intellectual development of the class or grade.
We shall suppose it to be a graded school with three apartments —

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primary, intermediate and advanced, or initiatory, juvenile and liigh,
and this will exactly correspond with the three-fold system of classifi-
cation in a common rural mixed school, — the primary, or class 1 — the
intermediate, or class 2 — the high school, or class 3. Afterwards, we
shall show in other tables how the time thus appropriated may be
distributed over the five school days of the week. But the graded
school implies that there are three teachers, or one in each apart-
ment ; what is to be done in miscellaneous schools with 40 or 50
pupils, and only one teacher of any shape, neither monitors nor pupil
teachers existing, (a comparatively rare occurrence, though a possible
case), how are classes B. C. to be employed when this solitary teacher
is engaged with A. ? This will demand another table, which we shall
also briefly sketch, more for the purpose of indicating how this arrange-
ment may be made, than presenting any stereotyped form.

TABLE OF APPROPRIATION OF TIME ACCORDING TO THE RELATIVE
IMPORTANCE OF THE BRANCHES TAUGHT AND GRADE.

Primary.
Age 5 to 7.

Intermediate.
7 to 10.

Time at disposal, 7 hours for 5 days = 35 hours

High.
10 to 13 and upwards.

Branches.

Religious knowledge . . . ,
Reading and Spelhng. . ,

Dictation ,

Writing

Arithmetic.

Grammar ,

Geography

History

Drawing

Music

Oral Lessons ,

Play

Total 36

Primary,or
Class A.

hrs. min.

1
1
4

Inter., or
Class B.

hrs. min.

40
45
20
30
30
20
20

30
5

High, or
Class C.

hrs. min.

30
15

20
5

%•

ART OP EDTDCATION.

515

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APPROPRIATION OF TIME FOR ONK DAY.— MISCELLANEOUS OR MIXED
COMMON SCHOOL WHEN TEACHER IS WITHOUT ANY ASSISTANCE.

Time.

Min

Recitations.

Studies.

9 to

9,15

Devotion — Bible lesson.

9.15 "

9.40

I). Readin{4, spelling, tables.

A. Reading. B. Arithmetic—
C. Geography.

9.40 "

9.42

Rest, change of class, &c.

9.42 "

A. ReatUng.

B. Arithmetic. C. Geography.
D. Slates.

10 "

10 5

Rest, singing, or answering
(questions.

10.5 "

10.25

B. Arithmetic.

A. Grammar. C. Geography.

10.25 "

10.28

Rest.

D. Books or Cards.

10.28 "

10.48

B. and C. Geograpli j .

A. Grammar. D Recess.

10,48 •'

Recess.

11 "

11.15

D. Reading, &c-

A. Geography. B. Mental Arith-
metic C. Spelling.

11.15 "

11.35

A. Grammar.

B. Spelling. C. Spelling. D.

Slates.
A. Mental Arithmetic. D. Books

11.35 "

11.50

B. and C. Spelling.

or Cards.

11.50 •'

General exercises.

12 "

Intennisnion.

1.15

Oral Lesson.

1.15 "

1.45

D. Reading, spelling, tables.

A. Arithmetic. B. Reading.—
C Reading.

1.45 "

2.10

A. B. and C. Writing.

D. Slates.

2.10 "

2.30

A. and B. Mental Arithmetic.

C Mental Arithmetic. D. Re-

2.30 "

2.40

Recess.

cess.

2.40 "

B. Reading.

A. Arithmetic. C. Mental Arith-
metic. D. Drawing.

3.5

Rest or singing.

3.5 "

3.25

C. Mental Arithmetic.

A. Reading. B. Arithmetic or
drawing. D. Slates.

3.25 "

3.55

A. Arithmetic.

B. Aritiimetic or drawing. C.
Drawing. D. Dismissa .

3.55 "

GeneTal exercises & dismissal.

Provision may easily be made for sewing by contracting the time
allotted to other branches.

Section III. — Management of Schools.

The organization of the school is now complete, and the question
here arises, What is requisite for keeping the machinery in motion —
the screws, wheels and various equipments in best working order?
What means ought to be employed that the end may be most exten-
sively served ?

The matter of the management of schools may be summarily com-
prehended under two heads, — 1. Recitation work, and 2. School
government. By recitation wo'-k, as here used, we understand all the
practical details of the instruction -processes, such as, — 1. The assign-
ment of lessons ; 2. Hearing them when learned ; 3. A standard of

W^l

ART OP EDUCATION.

517

attainment according to age ; 4. Reviews ; 5. Public examinations.
We take the word school-government in an equally extensive signifi-
cation, as embracing all belonging to school order, such as, — 1. General
mciins ; 2. Incentives to diligence ; and 3. The whole doctrine of
rewards and punishments. On each of these points we would now
make a few observations.

1. Recitation work. 1. Assignment of lessons. This scarcely
receives the attention to which it is entitled. In too many instances,
it is neglected altogether, till just on the eve of dismissal, when all
is huddled together in one heterogeneous mass, and such is the
confusion at the time that the scholars scarcely ever remember
the lessons prescribed. And such as do, and conscientiously prepare
themselves, are obliged to acknowledge that, in too many respects,
their preparations are entirely a mechanical process, and that so far
from developing or enlightening the intellectual powers, they pos-
sess no true or abiding apprehension of the import of these exer-
cises. Whether the lesson is to be learned at home or in school,
it is clear that the most convenient time of fixing the work, of pre-
scribing the exercises, is immediately after the preceding one has been
recited. For this purpose, the teacher should always be a lesson
in advance with his preparation, ready at once to give a pictorial
illustration of the general scope of the passage, if need be, or the
exposition of any difficult term or phrase, so that, in five or eight
minutes, the pupils shall have a clear apprehension of its general
import, and not only derive benefit, but real satisfaction from the
exercise. The quantity prescribed should depend mainly upon the
two elements — the age and stage of progress of the pupils, and the
time, in ordinary circumstances, for its acquirement. Here, as else-
where, everything should be sacrificed to superiority in quality ; and,
to secure this object, the quantity prescribed, at the outset, at least,
should be rather under tlian beyond the average capability of the class.
If the scholars are steadily and thoroughly worked for six hours dur-
ing the day, we have no hesitation in expressing it as our decided
opinion ihat the lessons prescribed for home-work should be. gene-
rally speaking, short, and of such a nature as, without the most culpa-
ble neglect, they can neither be overlooked nor superficially got, and
such as the parents generally can sympathize with or aid. Nothing
so largely facilitates or speeds on the work of the school as the sym-
pathy and co-operation of parents, and hence the extreme desirableness
of taking them along with us — of securing their support.

2. Beciting lessons. This, in Britain, is called the hearing of

ri!
1

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'■'!■

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..I t

518

teacher's text-book.

the losaons ; on this contiuent, the recitation exercises, inchisive of the
oral instruction. This is tlio most important work the teaclicr has to
perform — to this everything else converges, or from it diverges. Fail-
ure hero, therefore, necessarily affects the whole of his position, profes-
sionally. Need it bo said that much, very much of his success in thi&
matter depends ui)on his own t'loiough mastery of the subject under
review. It is sometimes remarked, that no teacher should engage in
recitation work without knowing ten times more on the subject before
him than it is necessary to convey to his pupils. Whether this is a
sound or legitimate degree of sui)eriority, we do not undertake to
decide. It certainly, with one fell sweep, scatters to the winds those
notions which some pseudo-teachers would fain maintain, that they
teach certain branches of knowledge with no other intention but to
render themselves more proficient therein ; as well as to demonstrate
the utter fallacy of the position, that great power or efficiency can at
all co-exist with slender general attainments or a superficial acquaint-
ance with the subject in hand. Neither aptitude, nor experience in
teaching, nor knowledge of system, will compensate for the one or
other of these. Both extensive general scholarship and diligent accu-
rate previous preparation of the subject under consideration are indis-
pensably necessary for continued efficiency in recitation work. And if
so, if possessed of both these, the teacher will be altogether independ-
ent of text-books, except in some such exercises as reading, spelling or
parsing. He will thus come to his work altogether uuentrammeled,
with his mind full to overflowing with his subject, and prepared to
personate every thought or idea, to throw the charm of his expressive
features around everything he touches or handles. In these circum-
stances, he commences his work, and, like a good captain, he sees first
that every scholar is in his right position, and that every eye is
directed towards him ; and this state of things, he must maintain
throughout the whole exercise. Even if one child is not giving atten-
tion, the teacher should instantly stop and correct the misdemeanor;
this will economize time in the long-run. Everything here, too, of a
stereotyped character, or formal course of procedure, should be avoided.
Occasional novelty, both in subject and mode, will enliven, and arouse,
and excite an interest. The manner of the teacher, too, should be
cheerful and animated, earnest and enthusiastic, if he would inspire
his scholars with intelligence and vivacity. His language should be
simple and correct, chaste and fluent. But nothing is so influential or
so commanding as the tones of the voice of the teacher. Let these
tones be modulated in accordance with his real position, with his sub-

ff^l

ART OP EDUCATION.

519

of the

has to
Fail-

profcs-

in this

; under

^age in

; before

,his is a

take to

Is those

lat they

I but to

onstrate

y can at

iccjuaint-

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e one or

ent accu-

ire indis-

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Indepcnd-

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ainmeled,
pared to
prcssive

3 circum-
sees first
•y eye is
maintain
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iineanor ;
too, of a
e avoided,
ad arouse,
should be
Id inspire
should be
lueutial or
iLet these
[b his sub-

ject, with his mode of discussion, and with the character and clrcum-
Btanccs of his class, and his object is achieved, the battle is won, and
that irj the midst of diificulties and obstructions, apparently unsur-
mountable.

And if such are the qualities needed by the teacher in this recitation
work, what are those of the pupils that will satisfy and gratify ? If the
exercise involves the unfolding of principle, or if it consist of the
repetition of what has been prescribed to be mandated, what is the
amount of accuracy on the one hand, or of promptitude and precision
on the other, that will meet the acceptance and approbation of the
pains-taking .and skilful teacher ? The pupils should be distinctly
apprised of the standard of attainment on the part of the one and other
of these exercises, and that not once or twice merely, but often and
again, until it is thoroughly riveted or inwoven in their minds. And
when brought to the touchstone, when the work is really gone through,
there must be no unfaithfulness, no carelessness, no slovenliness, no
compromising, no equivocating on the part of the teacher. Both
kinds must be brought to the standard and abide its decision. This
will require great firmness and decision combined with the most
unswerving faithfulness, with the most unhesitating impartiality, with
the most discriminating watchfulness. In the matter of the exposition
of principle, for example, unless every pupil comprehends and grasps
the general subject, or, if in the mandatory work, there are three mis-
takes or general hesitancy, the exercise, in neither case, should be
received. Here another point must be weighed. If the failure is
general, extending to almost all the scholars, or belonging only to one
or two of the number, then what, in either case, is to be done ? Pro
vision must be made to meet either emergency, and the application
made at once and without hesitation. Steadfast adherence to the
etandard at the outset, both in the administrative and executive, will
soon clear away all difficulties, and tend to secure diligence and accu-
racy in the preparing of the exercises.

3. Average attainment at certain ages, a< 7, 9, 11, 13, 15. If there
is great diversity of endowment, there must also be an equally diver-
sified measure of attainment. Accordingly, we often find one child of
seven years of age as far advanced as others at nine, and another at
nine as far as others at eleven, and so on ; and all this in the case of
those who have been placed in the same or similar circumstances.
And yet, notwithstanding this disparity of attainment, it is possible,
nay perfectly practicable, to strike a mean at certain ages, especially of
those who have enjoyed the same advantages. This we regard as of

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520

teacher's text-book.

considerablo utility in a national system, first, for tho teaclior in his
aiming at a certain stipulated amount of progress within a given time,
regulating and influencing in the whole matter of the prescribing of
tho different lessons ; not that he is even for a moment to prefer <[uan-
tity to quality, or to betake himself to a cramming instead of a devel-
oping process. This were a perversion of the object contemplated.
The average is fixed after a careful analysis of a fair proportion of
different sorts of schools in favorable, advantageous circumstances, and
that for the purpose of holding up a standard to which all should
aspire — that standard being founded not ui)on mere verbal, but intelli-
gent .attainment — quality in every deiiartmeut constituting an essential
element. This standard will prove of great benefit not only to the
practical labourer in this field, but to the various educational authori-
ties, oiHcial and non-ofiicial, and especially to those entrusted with tho
work of inspection or supervision.

The subjoined average may be regarded as a fair representation of
the attainments of tho ages specified of those who have attended, con-
tinuously, the common schools of Nova Scotia, presided over by
teachers holding first class certificates, and possessed of a mediocre
amount of professional skill. The branches here given are intended
to bring out, as far as practicable, the matter of quality, as well as of
quantity. English reading is taken as the standard, and this includes
every quality upon which expression depends, as well as the spelling.
If classics are to be learned, the pupils should commence about eleven.

fix

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ART OF EDUCATION.

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teacher's text-book.

4. Reviews. Perhaps, oue of the best and most substantial evi-
dences of a teacher's efTiciency is, that his pupils, when they have once
learned a lesson, never require to relearn it. This can only be accom-
plished by reiterated repetition of the lesson, and thereby incorporat-
ing it into the very framework of the mind. In order to this, no
recitation lesson should be commenced without a previous review of
the one going before. If the piece requires to be divided into several
parts, when finished, it should be again thoroughly revised, that it may
be seen in all its relations and dependeuciei^. If the recitation exercise
is purely a memoriter process, such as the grammar of any language,
and especially of a foreign language, the declinable parts of speech
should, in their essential characteristics, be revised every day, even
until the whole is woven into the mental constitution. It is in this
way alone that a language can be thoroughly acquired. To whatever
extent the judgment may be embarked in tracing the structure or
niceties of the language, the vocables and the laws of syntax must be
stored up in the memory, and nothing will effect this but constant
repetition. But in addition to all this, certain fixed days should be
set apart for the regular revision of the whole work that has
been gone over ; and between these days not more than a fortnight
should intervene. And on every such occasion, the previous review
should be comprehensively re-reviewed, and a full summary presented
at the end of every quarter. The value of such an exercise can
hardly be over-estimated. Indeed, we regard any school establish-
ment destitute of a regular system of reviews, as without its right arm,
and the half of its time, at least, as well nigh scattered to the winds.
No branch of usefiil knowledge can be rendered the veritable property
of the scholar, unless this process is gone through again and again.
Hence the very absurd clamouring after quantity, though a third of
the same, and more than a third, is utterly unavailing and of no future
benefit. It is by such unceasing reiteration that all education can be
turned to practical utUlty in the future career of the individual.

5. Public Examinations. By a public examination is to be under-
stood a review and inspection of the school, to which all and sundry
are invitf d, but especially those who are more immediately concerned,
such as trustees, parents and section, generally. Such an examination
is held for the purpose, of testing the professional qualifications of
the teacher from the progress and conduct of the scholars. It is
sometimes fixed by legislative enactment, and sometimes by tlio
committee of management, and sometimes by the teacher himself. On
these occasions some examinations are conducted very quietly, and

TyY

ART OP EDUCATION.

523

)rtnight

again.

! under-
sundry
^icerne;!,
lination
Itions of
It is
[by tlio
elf. On
Itly, and

others with an immense amount of external pomp, called exhibitions
or demonstrations. In the latter case, everything is done externally
that can render the examination attractive and fascinating. The
compositions of some of the more prominent and advanced pupils are
read, and recitings are gone through amid the plaudits of the audience.
Speeches are made and replies given on occasion of the delivery of
the prizes to the successful competitors, &c. Now, it is a grave ques-
tion whether these exhibitions or public examinations are really bene-
ficial, or accomplish the end in view. It is our candid conviction,
after the calmest consideration of the whole subject, that, in a great
majority of cases, these examinations, instead of being beneficial, are
positively injurious, and instead of testing the real character of the
institution, but mock and deceive the whole, or the great proportion of
auditors. But whilst we thus speak, we are not to be supposed as
disapproving of these examinations nltoguther, or even arguing for
their discontinuance. A great deal here, as in many things else,
depends on the way in which they are conducted. If the examination
is got up with a view to a demonstration or celebration, as it is sorie-
times called, if certain lessons or recitations have been in course jf
preparation for weeks to the almost total exclusion or careless neglect
of others of essential importance, if the grand motive brought to bear
on the pupils has been the prospect of a prize or the applause of an
admiring populace ; then we have no hesitation in saying that such
examinations are not only highly problematic, but positively injurious,
and ought to be discontinued. Instead of furnishing criteria of the
diligence, faithfulness or success of the teacher, or of the proficiency of
the pupils, they are quite the re/erse. Every faithful and honest
teacher knows full well, if tempted into a compliance with this custom,
that much is mere show of the most superficial and shallow character,
and, generally speaking, of a purely mechanical nature. It is well
known, too, that the pupils most showy on these occasions are just the
very pupils that are most indolent and superficial, and that the most
fluent and ready are the most shallow and the most imperfect students.
But it is the moral of these exhibitions that renders them specially
obnoxious. They oftentimes tempt the most honest teacher to the
adoption of a course in diametric opposition to his conscientious con-
victions. Such is the pressure from without, from parents, trustees
and others, that h "^ but too oflen obliged to comply with the usage
of making his school appear not what it really is, but what it is not ;
and, accordingly, several weeks are spent in preparing the children for
this public appearance. During this time they study not for improve-

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524

TEACHERS TEXT-BOOK.

ment, nor for future usefulness, but simply to make a show at the said
celebration. An unworthy and unwarrantable motive actuates them
during all this process ; and at last, unless strangely constituted, they
are conscious of holding up a false appearance to the world. If this
enhance the zeal of a few parents, or increase an interest in the cause
of popular education in a few visitors, it is purchased at too large a
price. But whilst we thus denounce these celebrations got up for the
occasion, we are far from maintaining that these examinations are
wrong in principle, or that they may not be conducted in a way fitted
to be eminently successful in showing the real condition of the school,
and in bringing out and establishing the faithfulness and pains-taking
endeavours of the teacher. In order to this, these examinations should
be made fair representations of the actual condition of the school, and
not the result of an exciting stimulant for a few weeks before hand.
"Whatever be the self-denial and honesty, this may demand on the part
of the teacher, the pupils should be made to feel that the results of
their exertions through the terra, rather than a few special efforts near
its close, should be brought into review ; that no hypocrisy or manage-
ment should even be tolerated in order to win the applause of the
multitude ; chat no particular lessons should even be assigned for the
occasion ; and that the young are irreparably injured, when they are
made, in any way, *he willing instruments of false pretensions. Under
such circumstances, examinations may be profitable to all concerned.
If teacher and pupils have done well, they have an opportunity of
showing it without doing violence to their own consciences. The
employers and patrons, too, have some means of forming a correct
estimate of the value of their school, and all parties may be encouraged
and stimulated.

2. School Government. This is a part, and a most important part,
of school management. It embraces all that goes to constitute good
order in the school, whether in the shape of incentives to diligence, or
motives to obedience, or of rewards and punishments. Good order in
a school can scarcely be over-estimated. It is but a mean, no doubt, for
the accomplishment of a high — a glorious end, but it is a mean, the
most essential, without which, the best system, the most profound schol-
arship, the most skilful teaching and approved text-books would be of
comparatively little avail. And now is it asked, How is good govern-
ment to be secured and maintained in school ? This is not only one
of the weightiest, but one of the most difficult questions that can be {)ro-
pounded in connection with the whole subject of education, and that
because it mainly depe-ds on moral, not on natural or mechanical

ART OF EDUCATION.

625

lam

causes, which, so far from being under our control, can hardly be
described. Here, if any where, may it be said, * The schoolmaster is
the school.' Here, we have one of the most prominent attributes of
an ' aptness to teach,' partaking far more of the natural than of the
acquired — ^an attribute not only of signal utility in itself, but which
enhances and ennobles all the others. And yet there are means which,
even when judiciously used by such individuals, operate as powerful
auxiliaries, and, to all others, are indispensable in securing and main-
taining good order. A few of the more prominent of these means, it
is now our business to enumerate, giving no other illustration than
what is required for their right understanding. Thereafter, we shall
open up the whole doctrine of rewards and punishments in their school
application.

1. And here we may notice, first, that every teacher, at his outset
in any one locality, ought to study to make a good impression. The
young are much more discerning and acute in deducing inferences,
and in forming estimates of character than we give them credit for.
At the commencement of the teacher's career, these powers are much
more on the alert than afterwards. With eagle's eye, they watch
every movement, discuss his schemes and plans, compare notes with
one another, and, generally speaking, form a fair and equitable judg-
ment. The impression thus made is lasting, whether favorable or
unfavorable ; at all events, it will require both much time and much
hard labour to alter, and fav less to obliterate. With what import-
ance, then, does all this invest the commencement of the teacher's
labours in any one locality, and how anxiously should he strive to
produce a decidedly favourable impression at the starting, and begrudge
no means to arrive at it. For this purpose, he ought to have all his
plans laid before hand ; and to enable him to do this, he should visit
the school section a few days, at least, before he commence operations,
assume no self-important or magisterial airs, preserve as much taci-
turnity as he possibly can, speak, in one word, by his actions.

2. A thorough organization will gi*eatly facilitate the matter of
good order. We believe, it will generally be found, that one-half and
more of the confusion and anarchy that sometimes exist in schools
arises from the want of jjood orjjanization. And this is not at all to be
wondered at. If, for example, the scholars have nothing to do, it
were contrary to the very laws of our being to expect that they would
not be found indulging in frivolity, and amusement, and sport, and bring-
ing the whole school into a state of turmoil and confiision. If, again,
nothing is done to regulate their order in entering school or retiring

■l

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526

teacher's text-book.

IJ"'^

from it, but are allowed to come and go as they feel disposed ; need
we be surprised, that those given to fun and frolic should not take
advantage of their circumstances and play off some of their tricks and
pranks. And how could a conscientious teacher find fault with them
or punish them for idleness and mischief, when no proper employment
was provided ? If good order is to be maintained, the organization
must be complete, every moment of time must be appropriated, and
every arrangement made for recesses, &c., and all understood by the
scholars.

3. But along with the above there must be vigilant supervision.
The teacher, to be a successful mental trainer, should be a good moral
governor. These two, the teaching and the governing, must go hand
in hand, no small difficulty to the enthusiastic teacher. He is an
excellent supervisor so long as he is disengaged, but when at recitation
work, he becomes so much in earnest and so excited that he is apt to
lose sight of his office as superintendent altogether, and to think of
nothing but the class before him. The scholars are not slow in discov-
ering this, and, with greatest avidity, take advantage of it, and, in a
short time the school is in an uproarious condition. It behooyes the
faithful and pains-taking teacher not merely to be enthusiastic in
teaching them, but to be constantly on his watchtower, to be exercis-
ing a vigilant supervision.

4. A short code of regulations, carefully written and suspended in
a conspicuous place in the school, under the sanction and with the
approbation of the trustees or managers, will be of benefit in the mat-
ter of government. This code of regulations ought to be general,
pointing to principles more than specific laws, leaving the punishment
to be affixed by the teacher according to the circumstances of the case.
By this arrangement, conscience will be exercised and strengthened by
a constant appeal to its standard, and thus the whole moral tone of the
school establishment be elevated. By this means, too, the evil of
governing too much will be, in a great measure, obviated and avoided,
thereby ridding the school of the character of a prison-house or a place
of bondage, which would be the inevitable result of a long catalogue
of regulations with a specific penalty attached to each offence.

5. The careful registration of progress and of conduct will also
promote the cause of good order. In the estimation of some, this is a
means of immense virtue, in itself sufficient for the government of
schools. Accordingly, they spare no pains or means to give it justice.
Not content with a weekly, monthly, quarterly, and annual summary
of this system of merit, which they submit to the inspection of parents

ART OF EDUCATION.

527

logue

also

is a

Ui of

3tice.

lary

Irenta

or guardians, they purchase ornamental and expensive ftftmes for
their memorable enrolment. These frames they suspend in conspicu-
ous places, that all may see, and mark, and admire ; and thus is there
a memorial of the school life of all preserved and handed down from
one generation to another. Though we do not feel inclined to attach
the same merit to this means as some, we are far from supposing that
it may not exert a beneficial influence in certain localities and on some
individuals.

6. The motives brought to bear upon the young occupy a promi-
nent place in the matter of good government. There are two kinds
of motives that influence human conduct, namely, fear and love. By
the former principle, we do not mean that fear which springs from the
purest love, and may well be designated her elder daughter, but that
which springs from a purely selfish principle, — the principle of deep
concern about our own prospects, our future personal interests, and
which operates powerfully in the natural mind. Conscience goads
and haunts the transgressor, awakes in his bosom the most terrible
forebodings of the punishment his conduct merits, presses upon his
mind the infallible certainty of the infliction of the divine justice and
of the execution equalling the threatening. The other principle is
love, or that principle of benevolence or good will, which has its out-
going in active beneficence. This principle may be regarded as flow-
ing from our own benevolence or amiability, or from a higher source,
having the principle of grace engrafted, and pervading and influencing
the whole of our thoughts, and feelings, and actions. This is the most
powerful of all principles. It is that by which we obtain readiest
access to the human heart, and by which we are most influential with
our fellow creatures. It is that principle which Christianity deposits
in the human heart by the presentation of its author, as at once the
heart of Deity and the very incarnation of love. Now, which of
these two motives is the more beneficial in the promotion of school
government ? Unhesitatingly, we reply, the latter. The grand motive
which the schoolmaster should bring to bear upon his pupils is love,
even that love which is ever active, disinterested and self-denying, as
faithful in denunciating the offence, as it is forgiving, and forbearing,
and tender-hearted towards the offender. By the wise administration
of this motive, the result will be marvellous indeed. It will tame and
subdue the stout-hearted and obstinate. It will calm and tranquillize
the swollen billows of passion and revenge. It will touch a cord that
will vibrate the hearts of the young, and melt and soflen the most
hardened and imperious. It will captivate and attract the most sullen

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538

TEACHEU'S TKXT-BOOK.

and unyielding. You may, by the use of the rod, subjugate the moat
rebellious, and you may keep them, so long as that rod is hanging over
them, in a state of perfect fear and subjection. Remove it, and all is
confusion and anarchy. It is otherwise with the motive of love.
"Whilst under its sway all is quietness and g< od behaviour. Whether
the teacher is absent or present, it manifests supreme delight in all
the exercises of the establishment — a delight arising from the two-fold
source of love to the teacher, on the one hand, and of profound interest
in the work, on the other.

7. The sympathy of the school with the teacher is another power-
ful auxiliary in maintaining good order. We have elsewhere spoken
of this force in education amongst the scholars themselves. Now we
refer to the existence and exhibition of this principle between the
teacher and taught. Generally speaking, the misdemeanors, confusion
and anarchy that occur in school are traceable to a few ring-leaders,
even, sometimes, to not more than one. And we know no more effi-
cient way of circumventing the plotting and scheming of such, their
bafiiing and confounding their plans even before they have been devel-
oped, than by securing the steady and devoted sympathy and support of
the most intelligent and best conditioned scholars in attendance. And
if they do not succeed in arresting these schemes, or in extinguishing
them altogether, they will neutralize their influence, and keep in abey-
ance their outbursts and follies. And what should the teacher do, that
at all times, and still more in special emergencies, he may secure the
support of such ? He ought to act a fair, an honourable, an impartial
and manly part ; in one word, so comport himself at all times as will
commend him to their sympathy and approbation. . - , > .

8. The general awakening of mind throughout school section will
also aid in the promotion of good government. By the awakening of
mind is meant the stirring up of all to think and feel, the constraining
of all to undertake nothing and to engage in nothing, mechanically,
without a thorough knowledge of what they are about, the begetting
in all a spirit of deep and earnest enquiry, never to rest satisfied until
they have discovered the rationale or principle of a thing. For this
purpose the object, or thing, or business they are pursuing must be
invested with interest, and this necessarily involves ae whole matter
of method. To awake such a spirit m the school involves the whole
subject of manner of teaching, implies an adept in the art, a far higlier
achievement than that on which good government depends, nay, it is
a powerful auxiliary in securing it. And how is it so ? For the plain
reason that when the scholars are deeply interested they must neces-

im^'--i^

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AUT OF EDUCATION.

629

Uni

Ihiglicr

plain
I ueces-

-Arily he attentive and dillirent in tlioir work. And who docs not see
that this constitutes the very charm and glory of good order.? It may
not be the sullen stillness, — the productof the tyrant's rod, but it is the
busy, the ever-active hum of the bee ; and what is this but the very
^piintessonce, the 2)erfection of good order. And all this will be greatly
culianced and strengtiioned, when the same spirit, — a spirit of intelligent
inquiry ,--is diffused lunong.st the parents of the children, propagated all
over the •^.ection or locality, the young stinuilating the more mature in
years, and tlie latter again reacting upon the former. This will ren-
der the securing and presi \ing of good order an easy task.

9. The last, and, perhajjs, the most important mean, is the example
■of the teacher in every thing. Man is essenti y an imitative being,
and hence the force of the saying, " Example is more powerful than
precept." But the young are pre-eminently so, and consequently the
application of all this to tlie schoolmaster, in so far as the matter of
government is concerned, is that whatever ho wishes his pupils to 1)C
or do, he must be and do himself. It is well when the teacher under
stands his business, it is better, when he happens to possess great
aptitude in the art of teaching, it is better still, when he possesses the
pniper qualilications of government. IJut all this is not enough. His
pupils will be watching, and that with keenest eye, to see whether he is
sincere and in earnest, whether he verifies by his conduct the utter-
ances of his lips. If his school is to be without boisterousness and
disorder, ho must himself bo unusually reticent while he speaks
expressively by his acts, he must be the very perfection of order in
person and habits, in all his amingements and operations. If he is
anxious that all rudeness and everything savouring of a domineering
spirit be banished, that all envious, or resentful, or malicious feelings bo
hushed and suppressed, he must himself be a pattern of courteousness,
of amial)ility, of gentleness, of a forgiving and forbearing spirit. If he is
determined to secure regularity and punctuality of attendance at school,
he must himself l>e regular, except when Providence interferes, and
bo present, at least, half-au-hour before the work commences. But
above all, if he is desirous to give a potential existence to duty, if he
wish his pupils to hearken to the dictates of conscience, and to use
all legitimate means for its enlightenment and sensitiveness, then he
must evince that he is himself unmistakeably under the influeiice of
liigh-toned Christian principle, that he has a Master in Heaven to
Mhom he is amenaT)le for every word and act. Such a teacher will, in
■a week or two, reduce the most uproarious school establishment into

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one of good order, will bring one of comparatively good order np to
the highest pinnacle of improvement.

School Incentives and School Punishinents. We have spoken of
certain means, which the teacher may call in to his succour in the
securing of goo<l order. We now take up another department, that of
incentives and of punishments ; one of the most difficult, and yet one
of the most important points connected with government. The
former, that of incentives to diligence and duty, has, perhaps, scarcely
received the attention to which it is entitled. We regard it as vastly
the more important, and when properly dispensed, as diminishing, to
a lajge extent, the trouble and the difficulty connected with the latter.

Incentives. It has already been stated that the whole matter of
encouragements or incentives is founded on the principle of emulation,
a principle which has shared in the general catastrophe that has
befallen the species, and is accordingly us-^d in scripture both in a bad
and good sense. In the latter it plainly means, ' an ardor kindled by
the praiseworthy examples of others inciting to imitate them, or to
equal, or even excel them without the desire of depressing them.'
This is self-emulation. In the former, it means a desire of surpassing
others for the sake of surpassing them, a disposition that will cause an
individual to be as well satisfied with the highest place, whether he
has risen above his fellows by his intrinsic well-doing, or they have
fallen below him by their neglect — a principle that prompts the
secret wish in the child that others may miss their lessons, in order to
give him an opportunity to gain applause by a contrast with their
abasement. This, clearly, is an unworthy and unholy principle, and
should never he encouraged or appealed to by the teacher. And here
the question arises, whether the incentives, usually resorted to in
school, are such as are fitted to operate upon emulation as taken in its
good or bad sense ? Our decided conviction is, that the incentives
generally employed are, in many resj>ects, calculated to operate upon
emulation more in a bad than in a good sense, and consequently that
they ought to be discontinued, or largely remodelled or modified.
This is a serious charge, and ought not to be advanced without the
most satisfactory and substantial evidence in its support.

The incentives generally resorted to are place-taking and prizes, or^
at least, these may be taken as the type of the whole. Let us briefly
examine them in order, state our objections, and then show the modi-
fications necessary in order to render them, in our opinion, unexcep-
tional. All are aware that there ifc' scarcely a school, that does not
observe the practice of ' trapping,' as it is called in Scotland^ or ot

ART OP EDUCATION.

531

plaoe-taking, — a practice all but coeval with the public school. The
scholars are generally classified according to their stage of progress, a
head and foot are set apart or assigned, a competition is at once insti-
tuted, and, in a short time, the position of each is pretty well under-
stood. The teacher, in the recitation exercises, usually begins at the
top or the dux of the class, and proceeds downwards till he comes to
the bottom. All get their turn when the question cannot be answered.
A good deal, both in the extent and mode of the observance of this
practice, depends on the views and feelings of the teacher. But
whatever may be the variety of ways in which it is observed, the end
iu view is the same in all, namely, the calling into exercise the emu-
lative principle of our being, and thereby the stirring up of the activi-
ties of the mental faculties. And the question meeting us here, is,
whether it really accomplishes the object in view ? "We have not the
slightest hesitation in saying that it does not. There may be some
excitement through the class at first, some jostling of mind with mind,
so long as there is any uncertainty hanging over the rightful position
of each scholar, but whenever this point is settled, — and it is generally
done in a few days, — it is all over ; or, if it last any time, it is always
with a few at the top pretty nearly balanced, and to whom, as a matter
of course, the dux position is regarded as an object of ambition. And
even real mental conflict here is only occasional. One youth may
possess the acquirement, the talent and the readiness of application,
that he experiences no difficulty in taking and maintaining his position
at the head, and ir that case, all competition is at an end. Farther
down the class whatever disparity may exist among the scholars, even
after the sixth or the seventh from the head, and especially in a large
class of twenty or thirty, as there is little or no object to be gained
whether it be the thirteenth or fourteenth place that is occupied, so
there is but seldom any real hard competition. But not only does
this practice fail in accomplishing the end in view, exciting the princi-
ple of emulation, it puts an obstruction in the way of the development
of the finest and noblest intellectual endowments. Every one who
has closely watched the working of this system, must have observed
that the kind of talent conducting to class eminence or distinction is
memory, and especially that description of it, known by the name of
promptitude, or a certain quickness of apprehension, a ready smartness
in rejoinder, and a bold forwardness in the expression of view or feel-
ing. This is the kind of talent, if it is worthy of the name, which
shines and attains to eminence in the class ; whilst all the finer and
higher powers and exeellencies of mind, the powers of imagination, ot

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reflectiiiii find of reasoning are kept in abeyance, if they are not actu-
ally buried amid the riib])isli and incrustations of mere external
excitements, of mere mechanical appliances. Is it then at all to bo
wondend at, that those men who guide, and direct, and c(jntrol ilieir
fellow-croatures by the soarings of their genius, the profundity of thciir
discoveries, the usefidness of their inventions, and the stores of their
literary and scientilio erudition, should oftentimes have been accounted
dunces when boys, and not unfrecjuently hold a position iicaicr tlie
bottom than the top of their class at school ? But this is not all. The
whole tendency •! •\i'i system is to produce on the part of the great
majority hi the class, a spirit of dependence on their schoolmates, of
those below on those above; and the natural result of all this is the
lessening, if not the actual destruction of their self-reliance, of their
own exei'tion, and who, when left to themselves, will be found utterly
miablc to do their part, or to act worthy the dignity of their nature or
the ennobling destiny awaiting them. If such a practice is to be discon-
tinued because of its utter incompetency, how, it may bo asked, are we
to find :i. substitute; — if the taking of places is done away with, how
are wo to stimulate the emulative principle? This question has
already Iven answered when discussing the diversity of endowmeut in
the science of educa,tion, even by presenting the subject indiscrimi-
nately to all. Sutlice it here simply to state, that this practice \vill
incline ;ill to lean upon their own r(isources, to exert their own
powers to the uttermost, to do justice to the endoAvments and capabili-
ties which they possess, to suppress pride and envy, and to render the
peculiarities of each mind subservient to the benefit of all.

Prizes. This may be considered the incentive. All is consum-
mated in this, — place-taking, censor-ships, &c., whatever is the nature
of the rewards, all are summed up in prizes. These prizes are, no
doubt, very diversified both in themselves and in the way in which
they are bestowed. In some cases, they are of considerable value, but
this value is uniformly enhanced by the circumstances inider which
they are given. But the valire of these prizes, whether viewed intrin-
sically or relatively, is, as tiie feather in the balance, compared with
the method or grounds of their bestowraent. It is this last point that
tests their real character, and by which we are to decide whether they
stimulate the principle of emulation in a good or bad sense. Now it
is a matter notorious to all, that, in nine cases out of ten, prizes are
distributed at school after the following fashion : — An essay on a
subject is prescribed to a certain class of scholars ; at a stipulated
period that essay is handed in, all the competitors having a motto and

■fl

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Kow it
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ART OF EDUCATIOX.

533

a sealed letter corresponding, containing tlio name of the author,
when till' teacher or professor proceeds to the adjudication nnd the
awarding of the prizes. The decision is thus made without any refer-
cnee to the position, or circunistauces, or character of the competitors ;
the merits of the essay or production constitute the criterion upon
which Ihr judgment rests, and with greater or less formality and pomp
the pri/t's are dispensed. It is necessary that we state as bri(;(ly and
comprehensively as our space will admit, why we object to this system.
"VVe do so.

1. liccause it cherishes and foments all that is had, calling forth
the worse features in the emulative principle. It engenders a spirit
of rivalry amongst the difFcrent competitors. The usual practici' is to
givo one or a few prizes to the one subject, for which there may bo
15, or 20, or 40, or 60 or more competitors. In such a case, there
are generally the highest joys, the most jubilant exultations on the
part of the successful candidates, whilst there are disappointments, and
envy, and ill will on the part of the unsuccessful.

2. AVc object to this system because of the difficulty of coming to
a fair and C(piitable judgment, of deciding on the comparative murit of
each production. Every one who has had any experience in the work
of adjudication, knows the dilliculty connected therewith, how hard it
is to balance the respective merits of each competitor, whether by a
viva voce or a written trial, the only settlement at which he can arrive
being that of placing two or three of the candidates on a footing of
equality. Such is the variety of conclusion to which a jury separately
come, arising from the difference of view and taste, a;; well from the
character and style of the essayists, that they are compelled to make
a compromise, altogether irrespective of the merits of the productions
themselves. But the difficulty is far greater and more formidable
when the different situation and circumstances of the competitors
themselves are taken into account, soi having every possible assist-
ance, and others totally destitute of it, and entirely dependent on their
own "csources. If, then, it is beyond the power of the wisest adjudi-
cators to come to an equitable or righteous decision, the system must
itself be wrong.

3. Another objection to this system is the presentation to the
youthful mind of an inadequate or unworthy motive. It holds out, as
its prize, a book, or a modal, or a piece of money ; this is its grand
stimulating motive, placing in the back ground, if it does not utterly
supplant those ennobling motives which spring from the consciousness
of an approving conscience, or of our own future usefulness.

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4. AVo object still farther to the prize system, becuuso it rewards
success not industry, talent not character. From the diversity of
intellectual endowment, it is apparent to all that the exer(;ise.s of tho
various competitors for prizes are got up with various degrees of
facility ; some possessing tho very phase of mind befitting the work,
and preparing their exercises with little or no dilRculty ; others being
exactly the reverse, having neither taste nor aptitude for that particu-
lar branch of study, require a large amount of diligent and per.sev(;ring
appliciition, before they can present the exercise in anything like a
tinished condition. The former easily carries off the prize, thereby
violating tho plain principle, " To whom much is given, of them also
much shall be required." While much has been given to the success-
ful competitor, more is not required than from him who is not pos-
sesssed even of one-half the natural element. But there is a worse
feature than this. This successful competitor is the worst, the most
immoral boy in the whole school establishment, the cleverest and most
talented being not unfrequently the foremost in every species of mis-
chief. By giving a prize to such, lessening the influence of character
and depreciating the whole moral tone of the school establishment, we
are literally setting a premium upon thoughtlessness, and folly, and
crime. And what is all this but the exaltation of intellect above
conscience, the calm and deliberate preference of knowledge to virtue.

o. We object to this system still farther, because it, too, as well as
the taking of places, utterly fails in accomplishing the end in view.
We have no doubt that those who manifest such a warm interest in this
system, whether in the way of dispensing prizes or bequeathing money
for such an object, are actuated by high and noble motives towards
the rising generation, and imagine that they are using the best means
within their reach for stimulating them to diligence, developing their
powers and augmenting their usefulness. But they labour under a
grievous delusion. They see or hear only of the result of some able
and elaborate production that has succeeded in carrying off the palm,
and the high eulogium pronounced on two or three of the successfid ;
and they never imagine but that the whole of a certain stage embraced
within the stipulated range have been competing, or at least the
majority; whereas there are not more than half-a-dozen out of 15 or
20, the whole of the remainder contenting themselves with the rellec-
tion, that it was altogether a hopeless undertaking for them to
attempt it.

Such is a brief statement of our objections to the prize system as it
generally prevails. We are aware of the strong feeling in its favour,

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ART or EDUCATION.

535

as well as of the doffnces set up by those wlio uro j)erfecny ready to
acknowledge its imperfections and its faults. They say, and with an
air of feasibility, that when the young enter on the great arena of life,
they will bo compelled to coniiK'te with those who are l)ent upon their
own selfish, worMly aggrandizement, irrespective of the interests or
wcilfa of their fellows; and if go, why prohibit them from conflicting
at school ? In reply, we state, that it is indeed but too true, that this
rivalry exists to an alarming extent in the world, and that it is the
cause of much of the strife, and contention, and war that exist ; but
will any one calmly maintain that this is right or Christian, or fitted
to j)romote the true ha))piness of man ? Is it not the bounden duty,
fihould it not be the high aim of every well-conditioned person, of
■every one who would see the principle of Cliristianity obtain free
scope, its principles bodied forth in all their vitality and extent, to tise
every means to check the manifestation of this spirit or passion in the
bud, to do what is possible for the eradication of tliat selfishness so
deeply rooted in our being, and for the implantation of that love which
prefers the happiness of others to our own ?

But, again, the upholders of this system maintain that in pursuing
it, they are but imitating the conduct of the infinit<?ly wise and good
in the whole doctrine of rewards, a doctrine clearly and distinctly laid
down in the scri[)tur<«. That this doctrine is unfolde<i in the divine
testimony, is there embhizoned In all its beauty and glory, as one
grand animating motive to all acceptiible ol)edienoe, no one will call in
question. Rut what is the principle on which the Almighty proceeds
ill the adjudication and distribution of these rewards ? Does He not
give to all who contend with all their heart, to all according to the
talents and acquirements He hath Himself l)estowetl on them, with all
the munificence of a monarch, according to the use they have made of
these endow^ments ; and all this to proclaim the righteousness of his
decisions, whether they refer to His own government or law, or to the
recipients themselves? These rewards, therefore, are conferred on
perfectly distinct princij^es, and cannot at all l)e brought into compa
rison with the general prize system of school. These defenoe*^!, then,
do not, in the least degree, invalidate the objections advanced. What
then, it will be asked, are the incentives that ought to lie employed?
If the prize system, as now carried on, is to be abolished, what is to be
substituted in its room ? Here there is no lack of motives, or induce-
ments, or incentives. 1. May we not appeal to the emotion of love or
affection, to that desire we all have to stand high in the estimation of
oar fellows, to secure and live under the smile of their approbation at

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whatever cost, to live in the gooil will and approbation of parents^
teachers and friends? Is not this an adminihle incentive wherewith
to ply the minds of the yonng in tlie prosecution of their studies ?

2. Again, may not the teacher appeal to the love of power a.^
another incentive ? And there ai'e other desires which act as powerful
auxiliaries, such as the desire of knowledge, of liberty, of superiority,
manifested in a great variety of forms. And what a po'werful motive
this, wherewith to uige the young to diligent application to study.
Here the teacher maj^ describe In glowing colours to the youthful
mind, the achievements of literature and science in all the vai-itd
spheres and relations of life ; the triumphs they have wrought by sea
and land, in the held and cabinet; (he felicities and luxuries they iiave
secured to m;ji both in an individual and collective capacity, — how these
I ve not only put under tribute the resources and elements of nature
for the gratilication and enjoyment of humanity, but wielded an all but
omnipotent charm and spell over the minds of thousands upou thous-
ands of the most enlightened and relincd of the species, cunfi^'-red
untold amaranthine blessings on gtinenitiun.T unborn? Who can con-
template these triumphs of mind over matter, o mind over mind, all
the result of high cultivation and educatlo:;, wi'i^out perceiving the
immense Held of motive and stimuli over which i^e foithful teacher
has to tread in l)lying his pupils to diligence iUiJ j)erseverance in tlie
prosecution of their studies ? This is power indeed, a power which all
may arr.'ve , less or more, that only by one royal road, that of
high mental cultivation. What laurels are here ! What chivalrous
hearted boy will not thrill imder and respond to, such motives I

0. Again, has not the teacher the emulative princi])le, in its highest
and best acceptation, at his command, as another intluential incentive?
There is, perhaps, no principle so admirably fitted to rouse all the
energies of the mind, and to call forth the most deternn'ned exertions
to excel, as this. All that is necess-iry, is to see that this principle is
stimulated in a way that no envioua or rancorous emotions, or ambiti-
ous uncharitableness towards those who are compr^tiug with us, bo
generated or fostered. And hev/, it may be asked, is the emulative
principle to be operated on so as to obtain the highest possible benefit?
■JL wo things, in our estimation, are indispensable. The lirst is, that
the character or conduct of the pupil be taken into account as well as
the talent — the moral fairly weighed, as veil as the intellectuaL
The second is, that real progress must be looked at as well as success,,
diligent application to study being held in high* ' repute even than

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ART OF EDUCATIOX.

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point, two tilings must he attended to, first, the particula" jih;i.se of
intellect with the opportunities of culture enjoyed, and, secondly, an
accurate register kept of daily progress and hehaviojr. With these
two essential elements of judgment, there will Lc no dilliculty iu
arriving at a righteous conclnsion.

4. But the highest appeal is that made to conscience or duty.
It may oc well to present to the aspiring youth the doctrine of rewards,
the indisHf)lnl)le connection between these rewards and education, or
mt 1 culture ; but it is lietter, far better, by direct appeals to naked
conscience, to stimulate to diligence and persev^raneoin study, because
of the "ery nature of their constitution, b^n-ause the Almighty Creator
demands it at their hands, because without it they fail in accom[)lish-
ing the benevolent and beneficent purposes of their creation, because
■without it they tarnish that which constitutes the very glory of their
bein<;. This is the hi"hest of all motives that can be brouirht to bear
upon the young — diligence in muutal culture, because it is in harmony
with the fundamental laws of their being — diligence in study, because
it is their duty. This, this is what makes the man or the woman. If
trainrl mV > a habit, when young, to do that which we ought, that
which arises from tlie various relations or spheres in which we are
placed, simply to do a thing because it is our d' ty, what a force, what
an impetUo will this exert in every situation in which we may bo
placed ? It is this, that not only makes the man, but the state, aye,
and, in a subordinate sense, the church.

Pimi.ihmenh. If it is right and proper for the maintenance of
school government, that rules or laws, with penalties aifixed to their
violation, be made, it is equally right and proper, that when guilt is
brought home to any individual, the threatened i)enalty be inflicted.
This is as essential for the preservation of the authority of the teacher
as it is for the ordering of the whole school. And this implies that
the teacher is invested with power to inflict punishment ; such a
runishmunt as may be deemed requisite for the end in view. This
power and ' "ght he holds by virtue of liis oflicc, as the substitute or
proxy of the parent. Every i)arent is the natural instructor of his
oftspring. just as he is the natural guardian and provider. In handing
over his functions to a proxy for so many hours a day, he hands over
his authority to punish. Tho teacher then holds his power to punish,
by dtih'gation, from the parent, because he stands in loco paroitis, and,
in a national system, in loco magistrtdus. J'^'s right, tlien, to punish is
indefeasible ; and, when used with discrimination, discretion and judg-
ment, may be productive of the most l)eneficial results. Before pro-

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ceeding to the Oifferent sorts of puuishmeiits, it may be well that we
adv(irt to two or three general pr:-:''iples, which ought to enter into
and regulate the whole.

1. And we would notice in the first place, that the punishment
should, IS far as it is possible, be in accordance with the nature of the
otJ'ence. This is a principle thsi should be well and carefully weighed,
as a mistake here not unfrequently conducts to the disorder and
anarchy of the whole establishment. Let the teacher evince a spirit
of caprice, punisning all and sundry, indiscriminately ; let him deal out
an equal punishment (o all, whatever be the character of the offence,
and the whole school will evince a spirit of dissatisfaction, seize the
earliest opportunity of throwing off the yoke, and account the teacher
nothing short of a tyrant and despot. The benefit of the punishment
will thus lie, in a great measure, frustrated.

2. Another element, wo'-thy of consideration in awarding punish-
ment, is the character of the offender. Two individuals may be act
and ])art in the same crime or misdemeanor, and yet it were the very
height of injustice to award to each exactly the same punishment or
the same amouut of punishment. One of them may be habit-and-
repute guilty of the crime, and the other has never had any similar
accus'^tion brought against him ; whatever his share in this transaction,
it is L rirst time that any charge has been laid against him ; one may
be the ringleader in the plot and the other a mere dupe ; one may be
open, and frank, and manly, and withal bold and resolute, and the
other may be full of guile, duplicity and stratagem. Now, on the sup-
position that all these had been guilty of the same crime or outrage, it
were the height of injustice to visit tiiem with similar punishment.
To inflict upon each culprit the very measure of punishment which his
criminalitj' merits, and to make this palpable to all the scholars,
requires the nicest discrimination and the most disinterested upright-
ness, combined with the most imperturbable calmness and the most
determined fixedness of purpose.

3. Another general element in the awarding of punishments is the
position and circumstances of the culprits. It may happen that they
were placed in circumstances which rendered it both physically and
morally impossible for them to carry out the instructions of the
teacher; or, it may be, they were pressed by a series of diiriculiies
from which they could not make their escape. Now, it were the wry
height of cruelty to inflict upon those individuals the very same punisli-
ment as upon those who perpetrated the same act, but A\ho were not
subjected to the same external pressure.

ART OF EDUCATIOX.

539

e may
lay be
ml the

unci

ijholiu's,
IprigUt-
lie uiost

Is IS tiie
at they
illy and
of the

lie VI' 17
Ipunish-
lere not

4. Agaiu, a distinction ouglit to be iihuIg between acts that are
palpably and flagrantly immoral and those that are not. Exemplifica-
tions of this distinction are of every day occurrence in the school-room.
One of the scholars has stolen a piece of money, and when charged
with it, coolly tells the most barefaced falsehood. Another of the
scholars has time after time refused to prepaie his lessons, resisted all
the appeals that have been addressed to him, and has consequently
subjected himself to the punishment due the violation of some scho-
lastic rule. But these two can never be compared in criminality.
And this must be kept in view in tht- invarding of punishments. "With
these remarks on the general principles, we now proceed to indicate
the different kinds of punishments — the proper and improper.

As to the latter we shall say but little. There is no department in
which there has been, during the lust century, a greater revolution
than in this. The octogenarian iif the present day can tell many an
interesting tale in reference to the punishments inflicted in his juvenile
days, the acts of cruelty, if not of savage barbarity, on the one hand,
and those of ridicule, amounting, ofientimes, to buffoonery, on the other.
It were little short of an affront upon humanity to attempt even an
enumeration of these punishments. Surely it is unnecessary to dwell
on the great impropriety of these and similar modes of punishments — •
modes which were principally resorted to some tifty or sixty years
ago, and vvhicli are now happily on the wane, falling fast into desuetude.
It is more profitable that we now direct attention to those kinds
of punishments which are proper, accordant with reason and revela-
tion, and have received the approbation of the most enrglitenod :md
experienced educationists.

Deprivation of privilege. This is, perhap-i, the most universal in
its application. When any gift or blessing, whether in providence or
grace, is perverted or abused by the possessor, the Almighty, in
righteous retribution, deprives him of it. This feature in the divine
government is universal, and must be patent to all. And the same
principle may and ought to be applied in a hundred forms in the
school-room. Whenever a child cannot keep possession of any boon
without his either abusing it, or doing injury by it, the speediest and
most effectual punishment is to deprive him of it. If, for example, he
cannot keep a knife without damaging the desks, or sit beside a bosom
school-fellow without either whispering or misspending time, if he
cannot retire at a recess without doing mischief or creating disturb-
ances; lie should be at once, and without ceremony, bereft of the means

M'-'

■'" .i;

l>:

540

teacher's text-book.

or opportunities of such an abuse of privilege. Deprivation in a great
number of cases will of itself prove effectual.

Private reproof. This punishment, to be salutary, nuist be con-
ducted in the most private way, even without the knowledge of the
rest of the scholars. Let the teacher administer his censure in a calra
and tender, and yet in a firm and faithful tone. Let him present the
most urgent, and melting, and subduing appeals to consciev.ce, and the
highest sensibilities of humanity. Let him bring the culprit into
direct contact with the Lord of conscience, all sent home and rntitied
by an array of circumstances or incidents of the most aggravating and
thrilling nature. We have often seen most marvellous results flowing
from such censure judiciously administered ; the most hardened and
defiant relenting, the stoutest and most obstinate softened and subdued,
and the coldest and most indifferent manifesting the deepest (concern,
if not actually shedding tears. The power of the teacher here is
immense, if he only knew how to use it.

Confinement in school. This is for palpable and culpable negligence
in reference to recitation exercises. Whilst we repudiate the practice
of giving long and difficult tasks as a poena for moral delinciuency,
such as committing to memory or writing out so many hundred lines
of poetry, inasmuch as such tasks but too frequently generate a loath-
ing or abhorretice of those very pursuits or studies, which it is the
grand object of the school to cherish and foster. But it is otherwise
with the nature of the confinement here referred to. This, uo doubt,
involves study, but it is the study of what the scholar was quite com-
petent to get at the time and in the way assigned ; and having failed
therein, it is but just and right that he should make some compensa-
tion for the time he has squandered away. Besides, this punishment,
which is a species of deprivation of privilege, when properly a<lminis-
tered, uay incite to future diligence and application.

Corporal punishment. Few, if any subject, within the whole range
of paideutics, have been, within the last quarter of a century, more
elaborately discussed than this, and it was but right and proper that
it should be so. That the most fearful abuses, the most barbarous
cruelties were jierpetrated by the use, or, rather the abuse, of f he rod,
and that, to a limited extent, these .abuses still exist, no one \\\\\ hesi-
tate to admit. Nor is it at all to be wondered at, that in tlic discus-
sions connected with this subject, not a few Should have gone into the
opposite extreme, and unflinchingly taken up the ground that corporal
punishi ut is altogether unwarrantable in a public school, tliiit it is
opposed to the Bible and the whole genius of Christianity, tliat tlio

•ifT

ART OP EDUCATION.

541

ici'Wise
oabt,

to corn-
failed

nient,
Iniiuis-

e range
more
er tliat
rbarous
1<c rod,
;il licsi-

Hscus-

korporal
liiit it is
lv\i tUo

rod should be suspended in the museum as the relic of a barbarous
age, &c. Now, though we have liailed the discussions connected with
the subject as eminently calculated to diffuse sound views on the whole
matter of school discipline, we see no warrant for drawing such a
sweeping conclusion in reference to this mode of punishment — or that
the abuse of a thiug, however ilagrant or, monstrous, is any argument
against its legitimate use. That this mode of punishment is lawful,
perfectly lawful, must, we think, appear palpable to all acijuainted
with the sacred record. There it is exemplilied over and over again
that the Almighty, in the exercise of discipline, inflicts i)hy8ical suffer-
ing, and tluit for the twofold piu-pose of making the patient feel that
the ^vay of transgressors is hard, and of preventing others from com-
mitting Ju^ same or a similar offence. Not only have we the example
of the infinitely wise and good, but we have his own express command,
*' He that spareth the rod hateth the son ; but he that loveth him,
chasteneth him betimes." "The rod and reproof give wisdom, but a
child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame," &c. lUit this
species of punishment is not only lawful, it is in some cases necessary,
indispensably necessary. There are oftentimes boys in our public
schools so thoroughly given up to frivolity and wickedness, so seared
in couscienoe, and so callous to all appeals to honour and the higher
feelings of humanity, that nothing but a sense of superior power, noth-
ing but tlie motive of fear seems to keep in anything like proper check
or subordination from the perpetration of the most flagrant outrages,
from ti.e pouring of every species of contempt on order and good
government. In such cases, the rod, when judiciously administered,
has proved not only indispensably necessary, but highly salutary,
productive of tlie most beneficial results. It has not mertdy arrested
the cviuiinal in his progress to rebellion, but it has proved iiist'-unu'ntal
in softeuii;j his disposition and in moderating his passion, and all this
has been effectual in proportion to his juvenility ; the tenderer the
shoot, it is the more easily bent.

But whil'-t we thus plead for the lawfulness, the necessity and the
efficacy of corp(jral puuishnitnit in certain cases, it must not, for a
mom nt, be supp-osed that we argue for its daily use, or for the inflic-
tion of those cruelties to which it has sometimes, and, to a limited
extent, is still sometimes applied. On the contrary, it is our decided
conviciion tiiat it should ve;y rarely be resorted to, and never
cm[)]cyed u ithout the most guarded restrictions, without certain con-
ditio », and these most rigorously adhered to. "We can only touch ou
a few of the more prominent of these conditions. And, first, the

542

TEACnER's TEXT-BOOK.

teacher should never call in the use of the rod without a previous
consultation with the parents of the child. It is not enough that the
parent generally delegate his authority to the teacher, there must be a
special consultation and co-operation in the infliction of corporal
punishment. It may haj)pen that there are peculiarities in the child
or in the teacher that the parent may prefer to administer the corporal
punishment himself, and, in this way, it may prove even more benelicial.
In nine cases out of ten, the parent will grant full and unrestrained
liberty to the faithful and painstaking teacher, but it is well that there
exist a distinct understanding between them. Another restriction of
corporal punishment is, that it never be resorted to except as a last
expedient. When Stow formed the resolve never to use the rod or to
expel a child, — which resolve, we believe, he carried out, iirst in Sab-
bath-school and then in week-day schools, — he had a specific end in
view. He believed that in every child thee was a cord, by getting
hold of which the whole child's being could be moved, directed and
controlled, and that it is the bounden duty of the teacher to strive to
discover that latent point or cord. He believed, moreover, that nothing
so much contributed to prevent the discovery of said cord as a thunder-
ing denunciation, and a good sound flagellation ; that this necessarily
precluded all appeals to conscience or the higher sensibilities of our
nature, or, at all events, that it interfered with the training process.
This was his aim ; and this resolution he carried out to the letter, just
that he might be compelled to try other experiments, and to devise
other moral expedients for the improvement of the delinqueni, and not
that he disapproved of corporal punishment, or considered it to be
opposed to Bible principle or the genius of Christianity. Hence the
propriety of putting off this punishment to the last, of trying everything
else beforehand, and all the more because it is at best but an experi-
ment, and still more, because of the advantage of having some punish-
ment that stands pre-eminent in disgrace.

Another condition in the use of the rod, is, that it never be applied
at the time the offence is committed. There are some kinds of school
punishments that require to be put into force at the very time the evil
is perpetrated, or else they will not serve their end. There are others
that had better be allowed to lie over for a short time at least.
Corporal punishment is pre-eminently one of these. The offence that
demands corporal punishment is of course highly aggravated and
heinous ; and seldom fails to rouse the indignation and ire of the
teacher, and that not unfrequently to such a height, that he finds it no
easy task to withhold his bands from the infliction of the punishment

BBBfiH

AUT OP EDUCATION,

543

'lOUS

t the
be a
poral
cliiia
■poral
ilicial.
•ainecl

there
Lion of
i a last
cl or to
n Sab-
eiul in
getting
ed and
strive to
nothing
Lhunder-
ces?arily
is of our

process.
|tter, just

,0 devise

and not

it to be

ence the

rerything
experi-
punish-

appVied

I of school

, the evil

Ire others

at least.

lence that

lated and

le of the

tnds it no
Inishment

at the very moment the offence is committed. And what is the result
of his doing so ? The muscular effort thus called forth increases the
violence of his temper and rouses him oftentimes to such a towering
passion that he loses all control of himself; and thus, instead of doing
good, he inflicts positive injury. It is infinitely better then, both for
parents and teachers, not to run the risk, but to allow the interval of
a few hours, and, if possible, one night to intervene ere the punishment
is administered- Ah ! it is then, when either the parent or the teacher,
under a high sense of duty, proceeds with unswerving faithfulness,
with imperturbable calmness and sobriety, with deep thought engraven
on every feature, and the big tear gathering in the eye, that every
stroke of the rod goes to the heart of the child like a dagger ; and
except in iho'^e who are case-hardened in iniquity, but seldom fails to
be productive of the most salutary results. And not only to the cul-
prit himself, but to the whole school will this castigation be of service
in deterring others from the perpetration of the same offence. And
hence it is that we are decidedly of opinion that corporal punishment
should be dispensed in public, and dispensed thoroughly, provided it
is with a proper instrument and in a proper quarter.

We have thus briefly stated our views on the subject of corporal
punishment, and if these views are practically and faithfully carried
out, we I'lve not the slightest fear of the result. On the contrary, we
believe that this species of p'niishment will in some instances prove of
great ., i-d instead of lessening the bond of affection and attach-

mei b 'een parent and child, or between teacher and taught, will
strengthen and enhance it ; whilst it extirpates that fear which hath
torment, it will establish that which springs from genuine respect and
love.

Expulsion. This is by some ranked as the highest of all punish-
ments, and evidently implies that even corporal punishment, in some
notorious cases, has failed in accomplishing the desired end ; and for
the general benefit of the school establishment, it is considered desira-
ble, if not indispensable, that this punishment be imposed. Every
form of publicity is given to this step. The parents, trustees or com-
mittee of management are all apprized of it before hand, and it may
be some admonitory remarks are delivered on the occasion. Though
we have long been in a state of dubiety in reference to the expediency
or propriety of this species of punishment, both for Lhe sake of the
culprit himself, — his being nereby placed, as it were, beyond the pale
of all correcting, and hallowing, and subduing Influences, — aad for the
sake of the other scholars, many of whom are more exposed than ever

If,

544

TEACllEU's TEXT-HOOIC.

■; t

to his pestilential brcatli. Yet there was a modo of expulsion, prae*
tised by Arnold of Rugby, tliat might, we think, be resorted to ia
certain casos and circumstances witliout anv^ deleterious ellVcts. The
metliod referred to was this : — Whenever Iio discovered a child doing
little or no goml, and poisoning not a few of his schoolmates, ho took
immediate .' teps to get him removed, not ia an open and public, but
in a private way, througli friendly and faithful correspondence with
the parent or guardian of the child. And all this on the principlo
that a child might succeed and prosper in a private, though lie did not,
at a public institution, or at one public institution while not at ano-
ther, recomiuending. in one word, removal by way of experiment, and,
in several cases, we believe, the experiment was highly sucessful'
This, as far a? '' goes is a sound principle, and may be resorted to
with safety. In reference to the common method of expulsion, all we
would say is, — Let teachers and trustees ponder well every such case,
and be fully persuaded in tlieir own minds that when th<'v do expel)
thvjy are pursuing the most judicious course.

RECAriTULATION OF CIlArTER.

In this chapter we have discussed the means themselves, leaving
the schoolmaster or the living agent for the succeeding. Properly
speaking, these are both means by which the work of education is
accomplished, and yet they "^eem so distinct as to entitle each to a
se[)aratc chapter. This chapter is divided into three jiarts — school
premises, organization and management.

1. School Premises. This comprehends everything belonging to
the exterior and interior of buildings. Full directions have ])een
given on every matter pertaining to the dimensions, and ccmmodious-
ness, and furniture of school premises. It would, no doubt, have
improved both the appearance and usefulness of this chapter had we
furnished a few diagrams both of the inner and outer of tlic school-
house, with some tasteful selections of elevations. All this we intended,
but found the difficulty and expense so great, that, after a good deal of
hesitation, we reluctantly abandoned our original intention. Much
here depends on the general taste of the section, and still more of
inlluential master tradesmen in the locality. Barnard's ' School
Architecture' is the authority on this matter over the whole of this
continent, and it is vastly superior to any similar publication in
Europe. The result is actually embodied in all tlie school fabrics in
the New England States, and British America is making rapid strides

ART OF EDUCATION.

545

towards the attainment of the same object. The whole of this subject
is far more intimately associated with the higher aims and objects of
education than, at first sight, may appear, or men are generally inclined
to admit. We are persuaded, that the more the subject is examined,
the more clearly will the best-conditioned in every community per-
ceive, that neat and commodious school fabrics and their meet
equipments, deeply involve the whole of our social, ajsthetical, in-
tellect'ial and moral prosperity. The matter of apparatus and text-
books, however great the improvements within the last fifteen or
twenty years, is yet in its infancy. The more education is stri{)ped of
its technicalities and brought down to the level of the every day pur-
suits and avocations of life, the greater will be the completeness and
taste of the former ; and the more that system in the inner life of edu-
cation is regarded, the more thoroughly graded and consecutive will our
text-book on all subjects become. In the discussion of almost every
branch there should be, at least, three stages, if not three separate
books — the analytical, the transitional, and the synthetical. Much
diversity of view still obtains in the organization of schools, and
here, as elsewhere, matters are far from being in a state of per-
fection. Experiments are being made by progressive teachers and
philanthropists, testing the present arrangements, supplementing what
is deficient, and correcting what is wrong or imperfec*;, which
will, we have no doubt, ere long terminate in the furtherance of
the best interests of education. The organization of schools is
treated under the threefold heads of registration, classification and
distribution of time. These can scarcely be over-estimated, both as
respects their present influence and future destiny. We hesitate not
to aver that the teacher, who is ignorant of the principles on which
these three constituents rest, who possesses no adequate appreciation
of their importance, and who does not ply his every energy to see
them carried into practical operation, is incompetent for the position
he occupies. We know not a better touchstone or criterion which
the educational authorities in every country can apply to test the real
capabilities of their staff of teachers, than their knowledge and prac-
tical working out of these three points. The management of schools
includes their actual working, or the routine business of every day,
and the whole matter of school government. Want of space alone
prevented us from enlarging on these topics as we could have wished.
The matter of routine in its more minute details, can be easily
gathered from the discussion of the principles on which they rest
scattered throujrhout the work. Under the head of means there is

'li

: i'
i i

546

teacher's text-book.

not, perhaps, a more interesting or important subject than that of
government or discipline, taken in the wide acceptation we have given
it. Some teachers, as has been stated, feel here not the slightest
dilHculty, and govern their dominion with consummate tact ; l'" are
are others whose experience is quite the reverse. This evidently arises
from an inherent moral power possessed by some, which is altogether
awanting in others. All that cau be done in this case is the recom-
mendation of certain helps or auxiliaries, by the sedulous use of which
good govp' iiment and order may be promoted and maintained. These
helps, both generically and specifically, whether in inciting to diligence
or in propelling to obedience, we have discussed as largely as possible.
Much good, we believe, will flow from their close and faithful appli-
cation.

CHAPTER IV,

THE LIVING AGENT, OR SCHOOLMASTER.
Sect. 1. — Dcties of Teacher — (a) to himself, {b) his scholars, {r) tiieih

PARENTS, (d) TRUSTEES OR COMMITTEE OF MANAGEMENT, {e) COMMTJNITT
AROCND, ( /') HIS PROFESSION, SeCT. 2.— QUALIFICATIONS OF TeACHER,
(a) PERSoifAL, (ll) LITERARY, (c) PROFESSIONAL. SeCT. 3. — MeANS OF

obtaining professional qualifications; normal sciiools, how
conducted, officers, and special functions; benefits of normat
Schools; History; Teacher's Institutes; Teacher's Associations,
Sect 4. — Female Teaching. Sect. 5 — Difficulties of Tf-acher,
Sect. 6. — Rewards of Teacher.

Did our space admit, we might here enlarge on the office of the
teacher. We might, for example, sketch its history, importance,
dignity, and, lastly, the position which the office ought to hold in
all civilized communities. But we must economize our space, as we
have many important matters still to consider. And we, therefore^
at once proceed to the duties of the teacher.

Skction. I. — The Duties of the Teacher.

These are many and onerous, arising of course from the relations in
which he is placed. 1. The duties he owes to himself as a teacher^ —
to his body and to his mind. He must attend to his food, whiefa
ought to be plain and simple, taken regularly at sufficient intervalsy
and in moderate quantity, avoiding all indigestible articles, all unripe
fruit, all if o and intoxicating drinks. He must give the needed
jBeasonable time to nature's sweet restorer — balmy sleep. He must

XUT OF EDUCATION.

547

,t of
iven

litest

.'ere

irises

ether

}Com-

w\»ich

These

igence

)ssU)le.

(r) TIIKIS
IMMUNITY

bachkk,

KANS OF

,9, HOW

IS'ORMAI/

C1AT10N8-

IKACHKR.

ce of the
portance,
hold in
>e, as we
therefore^

llations io
\eacher,-'
Id, which
liiitervalSf
all unripe
io needed

take regular exercise, dopending on the tastes and hahits of the
teacher liiinself. Ho should also study cleanliness of body, neat-
ness of dress, and orderliness of habit. But it is his bounden duty
to attend to his mental, as well as to his physical welfare. Ever and
anon should he he laying up stores of useful knowledge, for in propor-
tion to the extent and accuracy of that knowledge will be his coin[)e-
tency to discharge the functiouvS of his calling. He ought not less
strenuously to advance morally and religiously. He is to be an exam-
ple to all under his charge ; and, therefore, he ought to be unceasingly
progressing in all that pertains to personal character and official
usefulness.

2. Ifis duties to his scholars. The author of our being has devolved
upon the parent the entire responsibility of the upbringing of his
children. But the parent may be incompetent to carry on the mental
and moral education of his offspring, and though he have the ability,
lie may not be iu circumstances favorable for the performance. He is,
therefore, at liberty to delegate his authority and the whole of his
trust to another, — to the teacher. The teacher thus stands, for the
time being, iu the room of the parent, and voluntarily undertakes the
discharge of his duties.

The teacher is responsible, to a great extent, for the bodily health
of his pupils. It cannot be denied that the seeds of many serious and
fatal diseases are sown in the school-room. These diseases sometimes
«pring from the neglect of proper exercise, from too long confine-
ment in one position, or at one kind of study, or from inhaling a con-
taminated, noxious air, or from an improper temperature, or from
over-excitement in study. Now, the teacher ought to be an intelligent
physiologist, and from a knowledge of what the human system can
bear and what it cannot, he should be ever on the alert, employing the
means within his reach to ward off these and similar evils, from which
the young so frequently suffer. But we go a step farther, and main-
tain that the te(acher ought not only to master the laws of animal phy-
siology, but to make himself acquainted with the various diseases to
which the young are liable, and the best methods of their treatment.
This will fit and qualify him for the application of all preventive mea-
sures, and thereby render him usefully instrumental in arresting the
progress of contagious, and, oftentimes, disastrously fatal epidemics.
But he should go further still, and not merely act on the preventive,
but encourage the use of all proper means for the symmetrical growth,
and carriage, and gracefulness of the body ; and, for this purpose, he
should make himself acquainted with the whole subject of gymnastics,

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calisthenics, military drill, design, &c. These he should strive to
know speculatively and experimentally, that he may be able, if need
be, to give direction and exemplification. Let no teacher imagine
these are subjects beneath his notice or regard. They are most inti-
mately connected with his profession, and that, with every euthusiastie
educationist, is enough.

But the preservation of the health and gait of the body is but a
means leading to a certain end — -the culture and growth of the minds
of the pupils. For this purpose, he ought to impart every kind of
knowledge — not the technical or conventional knowledge of the school-
room merely, but that of the world of nature and of art around ; those
topics with which the young are coming daily and hourly in contact,
viewed in all their relations and applications, in all their adaptations
and tendencies. But this is not all ; he ought studiously to labour to
put into the hands of his pupils those means or instruments, by the
help of which they may acquire knowledge themselves, not only dur-
ing the seasons of youth, but throughout their whole future career.
But more still, the teacher is bound to use every legitimate means for
the development and growth of all the intellectual and emotional
powers of his pupils, yea, to make this his chief concern, and that for
the sake of the pupils themselves, of the human family at large, of
their Creator and Saviour-God. And in all this, the teacher must be
a model. Whether he teaches, or develops, or rules, he must remem-
ber that his pupils are creatures of imitation — far more under the
influence of his example than of his precepts. In one word, the
teacher must be an encyclopsedia of knowledge, a master in method-
ology, and in government a pattern alike of tenderness and firmness.

3. His duties to the parents of the children under his care. Again
and again, has it been observed that parents are the natural instructors
and guardians of their offspring, — an arrangement this confirmed and
sealed by all the provision of the Christian salvation. Not less fre-
quently and unequivocally hath it l)een declared, that the teacher is
the proxy of the parent, that his duties and authority are all delegated.
lie has a great and important trust committed to him, for whose right
and faithful discharge be is amenable to the all-wise disposer, and yet
withal, he must never forget that he is acting entirely in the capacity
of a substitute, and boimd, both from the nature of his ofTice and for
the due execution of its duties, to secure the sympathy, the support
and co-operation of the parent. But to be more particular, — 1. The
teacher ought to be well acquainted with the views and feelings of
parents regarding the cducatiou of their children, and for this purpose.

f^\

ART OF EDUCATION.

549

he ought regularly and steadily to visit them in rotation ; and this
he should do, in addition to any special visits he may require to
make, in consequence of misdemeanors, or any change tliat he may
think necessary, or any case of discipline which it behooves him to
submit to their consideration. In these visits, the teacher should
strive to act out his official character, maintain the dignity of his posi-
tion, and, instead of indulging in gossip or in unprofitable conversation,
direct attention to school work, and especially to those topics that bear
more directly on the progress and improvement of the children of the
household. 2. The teacher should take every pains to unfold his
educational views, his designs and operations to the parents of the
children. lie may not be any time in the district till he discover the
ignorance, the prejudice, and the errors that prevail on the whole
subject of ediication, and be satisfied that he has the old as well as the
young, the parent as well as the child, to instruct. Let not this state
of things discourage. Let him l)oldly and unflinchingly lietake him-
self to the work of educational excavation, and marvellous will be the
exploits achievecL Whilst he uses all means for the erdighteunvent of
the minds of such, and perseveres in the midst of all obstruction, let it
he a main concern with him to explain his plans and modes of proce-
dure to the parents, and try to get thera enlisted in the preparation ot
the home tasks. The assistance either of the father or mother in
this work would be a triumph indeed, and, because of its reflox influ-
ence, worth ten times more than all the direct benefit to the young.
3. The teacher should use every means to persuade the parents to
visit the school, not on formal, or on fete and gala days merely, but
occasionally. By such visits, the parent will see the school in its
every day attire, and thus be enabled to form a fair estimate of its
trials and difficulties, on the one hand, and of its successes and encour-
agements, on the other. These visits cannot fail to 1x3 pro<luctive of
the most beneficial results. 4. The teacher ought to make conscience
in giving to the parent a faithful and candid representation of the state
and character of each of his children. Here as in everything else,
the importance of the saying is ai>parent, " honesty is the best policy."
In all his representations, then, the teacher should be frank and faith-
ful ; and he will, thereby, not only maintain his own respectability and
influence, but subserve the interests of education.

4. The Teacher's duty to the Trustees of schools. Provision is
generally made under every system, that tlte i)arents of the school
section, or t!ie denomination or corporation select a few of their more
iDtelligeut to act for the whole, and no one can calculate how much

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the real succpss of the scholastic undertaking depends on the cha-
racter of these officers. Their duties are exceedingly onerous and
responsible, and, to be faithfully discharged, demand no ordinary meas-
ure of sagacity, zeal, skill and tact. The duties that teachers owe ta
such officials are special and important. 1. They ought to show them
every possible respect and attention, to evince, in the most substantial
forms, their appreciation of their labour of love, and to do everything
in their power for their enlightenment and encouragement, for their
counsel, instruction and support. 2. It is the province of teachers,
with all due deference, to submit their plans and modes of procedure to
these lawfully appointed trustees, as well as any regulations bearing on
management and government, or matters of detail, and all for the pur-
pose of obtaining their sympathy, sanction and support. 3. Teachers
ought to consult these trustees on every pressing emergency. Occur-
rences are every now and again taking place in every school estab-
lishment, which create difficulties even to experienced teachers ;
and, on these occasions, teachers ought to consult with the trustees,
explain the circumstances, come to a certain judgment, and agree as to
the course to be pursued. This will rid teachers of an immense
amount of responsibility. It will exert a wholesome influence on the
whole school community. 4. The teacher ought to lend every assist-
ance in his power to the trustees. He should never forget that he is
their paid agent in the whole movement, and that it is alike his duty
and interest to see that everything is gone about witli exactitude, that
the legislative enactment under which they are acting is carried out in
all its provisions. If teachers in general would pursue such a course,
there would not be so many complaints respecting the inefficiency of
school trustees or school managers.

5. Duties of teachers to the inhabitants of section or school terri-
tory. Every teacher has duties, which he owes to the community
around, and through it to the nation of which he is a member. It
may hapi>en, that, oftentimes, in young countries, the schoolmaster may
be the principal public functionary in the settlement. But whether
he be or not, the schoolmaster, if at all worthy of his position, will
always exert a powerful influence in the locality. And, therefore, he
should be prepared to throw his energies steadily and judiciously into
all those measures that have for their object the social, the intellectual,
the moral and religious welfare of the young in the section generally,
not merely of those at school, but of those also that have gone to
trades and other secular employments. But he must not content
himself with the encouraging and stimulating of the more youthful

form,
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A.RT OF EDUCATION.

551

part of the population, he should make it his study and business to
wake up mind generally throughout the section, by commending the
various schemes or measures which the situation or circumstances of the
locality may seem to demand, as the formation of public libraries, &c.,
if it is in a farming district, by the establishment of agricultural socie-
ties, or, in a mining, of mechanics' institutes of some form or another.
All this and similar work will operate beneficially upon his usefulness
in his school work, and aid him largely in the furtherance of all his
professional projects.

6. The duties which the teacher owes to his profession. Every
man owes certain duties to his profession or his calling. That profes-
sion or calling has its rights and privileges in the social compact, and,
when these are invaded, he must be a hireling indeed, utterly unwor-
thy of his position, if he does not lend his aid, with the men of like
craft to turn back the assailants from their gates. 1. He does this
when he takes heed to himself, to his own progressive advancement
in every one department, thereby imparting greater force and power
in his school establishment, as well as extending his influence in the
eye of all intelligent and reflective minds. 2. The teacher ought to
identify himself, in every respect, with his profession. " If I were to
leave my office as a preacher," said the immortal Luther, " I would next
choose that of schoolmaster or teacher of boys ; for I know that next
to preaching, this is the greatest, best and most useful vocation, and I
am not quite sure which of the two is the better." And if these noble
sentiments had leavened and pervaded the public mind, the oflice of
the teacher would have occupied, long before this time, a far more
commanding position, would have been exalted to the rank of one of
the learned professions. Though much is yet to be done to bring it
to this elevation, we ought to rejoice at the advances made during the
last twenty-five years, and to labour on till this honoured employment
reach its grand consummation, and be ranked as one of the learned
professions. 3. Teachers ought to make conscience in attending all
teacher's institutes and associations, all those societies which have tor
their object eithe;' the improvement of the teacher or the assertion and
maintenance of his rights. These associations exist in every country
and under every variety of auspices, and with every modification of
form. Attendance on these should be enforced by compulsory enact-
ment; but, in the meantime, every faithful teacher should make a sacred
duty of attending, when at all practicable. 4. Still farther, teachers
ought to avail themselves of the public press for the diffusion of intel-
ligence regarding their operations, their educational movements, the

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influence which tliese exert upon the country, and the chiim they thus
possess on the public support. All papers will thankfully receive such
intelligence, and all teachers should be in a position to contribute such
communications to the newspapers. Nor is this enough. They should
sow, broadcast, all tracts, reviews, journals, «S:c., on the subject, that
the public mind may be thoroughly saturated. And farther still,
means should be employed to see that these papers are read, canvassed
and pronounced upon.

7. 77<e spirit in tchich these duties ought to be discharged. Enough
has surely been said respecting the duties of the teacher to satisfy
every reflective mind, that these exercises are both numerous and
onerous, involving responsibilities of overwhelming magnitude, such as
must draw from the lips, even of the best equipped, the enquiry,
'• Who is sufUcient for these things ?" It is they, and they only, who
are imbued with a right spirit, who are competent to answer the
question, to cope with the ditliculties. Ere we dismiss the subject, it
may be well that we say a few words in reference to the spirit in
which these duties should be discharged. And what is that spirit ?
Perhaps we cannot give a better answer to this question than that
contained in Page's Theory and Practice : — " But the true spirit of
the teacher, that seeks not alone pecuniary emolument, but desires to
be in the highest dt-gree useful to those who are to be taught ; a spirit
that elevates, above everything else, the nature and capabilities of the
human soul, and that trembles under the responsibility of attempting
to be its educator ; a spirit that looks upon gold as the contemptible
dross of earth when compared with the imperishable gem, which is to
be polished and brought into heaven's light to shine for ever ; a spirit
that scorns alike the rewards of earth and seeks that highest of all
rewards, an approving conscience, and an approving God ; a spirit
that earnestly enquires what is right, and that dreads to do what is
wrong ; a spirit that can reverence the handiwork of God in any child*
and that burns with the desire to be instrumental in training it to the
highest attainment of which it is capable. Such a spirit is the first
thing to be sought by the teacher, and without it the highest talent
cannot make him truly excellent in his profession." Such is the spirit
of the teacher as described by Page, and every one who reflects calmly
upon these duties with their momentous responsibilities, both in time
and eternity, cannot fail, we think, to give his cordial assent to this
description, and to express his earnest desire that this spirit were
generally diffused amongst the labourers in this field.

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IJiit this

ART OF EDUCATION.

553

Section II. — The Qualifications of the Teacher.

From what has already been advanced relative to the duties of the
teacher, we can easily perceive that the qualifications requisite for
their right discharge are both varied and profound, and that, as in
every other sphere, the higher the qualifications, the more efficient
will be the discharge of these duties. These qualifications may be all
classified under the threefold division of personal, literary and profes-
sional.

1 . Personal Qualifications. By this class v:e of course understand
all those qualifications, which, as an individual, he ought to possess, so
as efficiently to discharge the functions of his office. And we would
notice.

1. That there is, perhaps, no employment requiring a larger amount
of physical energy than that of the teacher. If he is to maintain good
government and exercise a thorough surveillance over his establish-
ment, he should maintain a standing posture, and be constantly moving
about amongst his pupils. And who but those who are athletic and
in full possession of all their physical energies are competent for this
work? And if his physical energies should be unimpaired, not less
should his mental. For a long period, it was supposed that any kind
of mind, intellectually and morally, would do for a teacher. A great
revoln^^on has been effiacted in this department. It is now pretty
generally admitted, that to do the work of the teacher efficiently
demands not only a certain amount of scholarship, but an energy and
a vigor of high mould and standing, and whose character is out and
out unimpeachable.

2. The teacher ought to be a thorough gentleman in all his bear-
ing. If he is so, not only will he spurn from him everything mean
and despicable, but maintain a true dignity of demeanour in every
position or situation. There will be a frankness, a simplicity, and a
transparency in all he says and does that will inspire with confidence.
He will be courteous without being frivolous, affable without being
familiar, amiable without being unfaithful.

3. The teacher ought to be a decided and devoted Christian.
There are two things that the teacher has to do with his scholars, as
religious and moral beings. He has to fit and qualify them for doing
aright their part in life, and to prepare them for heavenly glory. In
order to this, he must bring them in contact with spiritual and divine
things, and with these his own mind and heart must be alike leavened.
But this is not enough. There may be the form of sound words with-

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out the power, the shadow without the reality. And these latter the
teacher should have, that he may be a living embodiment of the spi-
ritual life, and in all his actions as well as in his words, entice the
young to come to Jesus. To serve the highest end of all education, to
bring the souls of his scholars to Him who is life, and who perfects
praise out of the mouth of babes and sucklings, he must himself be a
living and devoted Christian.

4. The teacher must be an enthusiast, a man of intense earnest-
ness. An enthusiast in teaching is one inspired with ardent zeal, with
extravagant hope, and with confiding success in the pursuit. lie feels
assured that he has a great work to accomplish, and is determined to
accomplish it. He has scanned it in all its length and breadth, and,
realizing its glory, both in reference to the present and future genera-
t: ins, he gives himself wholly to it. And yet what have we in all this
but the soberest reality, but the office of the teacher exhibited in all
its natural though transcendent results.

5. The teacher should be a man of cheerfulness. Children, by the
very constitution of their being, are full of mirth and hope. The pre-
sent is all happy amusement, and the future is bright with the gleams
of hope. With this law of life in children, the teacher ought to sym-
pathize, to rejoice with them in their joys, and to sport in their sports.
The skilful and pains-taking teacher will feel it to be a paramount
duty to impose no arrestment on the full flow and tide of these joyous
emotions, but rather to use means for directing and guiding the same
into profitable channels.

6. The teacher must be patient and hopeful. There is, perhaps,
no situation in life better fitted to test and prove patience than that of
the teacher. In the government of the school, in the recitation of the
lessons, and in the general management, there will be something
occurring every day, almost every hour, to ruffle temper, to irritate
and excite. But whatever may be the provocation, he must endea-
vour to keep cool and never lose command of his temper, remembering
the words of Solomon : — " He that is slow to anger is better than the
mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."
Verily, the teacher must let patience have her perfect work ; and the
more he does so, he is all the better equipped for his school life ; he is
all Lhe more capable as the master mind in his little domain. But he
is doomed to disappointment in the midst of all his forbearance. He
must just try and try until success crowns his efforts — a success all the
more satisfying, because it is achieved under unparalleled difficulties.
Truly, the teacher must be both patient and hopeful.

ART OF EDUCATION.

555

|enug
the

2. The Literary Qualifications of the Teacher. By the literary
qiit.Ufications of the teacher we understand the whole matter of scholar-
ship, his general attainments as an educated person, or his particular
knowledge of the various branches he ia rotiviired to teach. On this
point there is no doubt or uncertainty. Whatever may be the diver-
sity of view in reference to the first or third class of his qualifications,
all, here, are at one ; all are agreed that ti . (institute a good or passable
teacher, there must be a certain amount of literary qualifications, and
the greater and more diversified, the more successful will he be, cccteris
paribus, as a teacher. Looking at his knowledge in general, it ought
to be extensive, thorough and minute, accurate and reliable. Again,
it should be methodical, so built into the mind, that it can be seized
upon and I'endered available at any future period ; and not only so,
but capable of receiving continuous and progressive supplies. Turning
from general knowledge to that which is particular, or that scholarship
which belongs essentially to the oflfice of the teacher, this may be sub-
divided into common and advanced, embracing, in the former, the
branches usually taught in a common school, and, in the latter, classics
and mathematics, in addition.

Every teacher of a common school ought to possess a competent
knowledge of his vernacular tongue. If it is the English, for example,
he ought to be thoroughly acquainted with that language in its history,
elements, structure, syntax and prosody, He should not only thus
know it, but be able to speak and write it with correctness and ele-
gance. To enable him to do this with ordinary facility, he would
derive much advantage from being acquainted with the grammar of
another language, either dead or living — Latin or French. Besides,
it would form ao small enhancement to his other acquisitions, were he
well acquainted with the principles and laws of logic, on the one hand,
and of rhetoric, on the other. With such attainments the teacher
would be capable of conducting any common mixed school, in so far
as the matter of language is concerned, and this, after all, -'^Htute3
the foundation upon which every branch must be built. A comj^etent
teacher in a common school ought also to possess a fair amount of
scholarship in the mathematical department. He ought to be in every
sense of the term a good arithmetician, that is, he ought to have a
thorough knowledge of the rules embraced in a commoit .^hmetic,
and be able to work its exercises with correctness and expedition.
But, as a teacher, he must go a step further, and be able lo expound
the rationale, or the principle on whicl *hese rules depend, and, for
this purpose, he ought to be both a goo. ebraist and geometrician.

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The only other common branch of education is penmanship. The
teacher of a common school should not only be able to write a plain,
legible and easy hand, but he should understand the principles and
elements on which script is founded, and this, again, would be in no
small degree enhanced, by the teacher being both theoretically and
practically acquainted with drawing, linear and perspective, as well as
with the science and harmony of colours. The above amount of schol-
arship is indispensable for the teacher of a common school, and it
should also be accounted as an essential substratum of every teacher's
equipment in an advanced school, where both classics and mathematics
are taught. Teachers in a grammar school or an academy should bo
possessed of highest scholarship, such as usually belongs to those who
have gone through a regular, collegiate course in a faculty of arts.
But it is needless to enlarge on this class of qualifications, as it is uni-
versally admitted ; and, therefore, we pass on at once to the

3. Professional Qualifications. Under this class we comprehend
all those qualifications that properly belong to the school-room, and
that go to constitute a thoroughly equipped teacher. For a long
period, this class of qualifications was ignored, if not turned into ridi-
cule, by the most intelligent and experienced educationists. P>en
after the whole subject of apprenticeship in every mechanical pursuit
in all civilized societies, and after the whole curriculum of the learned
professions were established points, no one seemed to dream of the
necessity of any preparatory professional qualifications on the part of
the teacher. "One of the most extraordinary fticts connected with
the whole history of education," says the Princeton Review, " is, that
the world, applauding the results of education, should have so long
neglected the most obvious means of securing them. It is hard to be
accounted for otherwise, than from the very extreme of human per-
visity, that of all labourers in the field of intellect, the teacher alone
should have been untaught and left to pick up his professional know-
ledge the best way he could, at odds and ends, or to do without any.
Until recently, the public seems to have depended for schoolmasters
upon the probability that there would always be some persons fit for
nothing else, some lame man that could not work, or iazy ones that
would not ; some disabled clergyman who could not obtain a living,
some physician failed in physic, or lawyer waiting for a practice, some
youth willing to work hard for a little help on the way to his profes-
sion, or some poor man unable, from lack of means, to reach that end
until too late in life to profit from it, and, therefore, compelled to make
a life's labour of what had beeu designed merely as a step thereto.

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ART OP EDUCATION.

557

per-
ilone
\ow-

Amoiig the improvements of the present century, none merit more
unqualified approbation tlian those which have gone to enlarge, define,
and give proper shape and direction to the work of the schoolmaster."
And now is it asked. What are these professional qualifications ?
They are, both theoretical and practical, as in every other bnsiness or
profession. In reference to the former of these, the theoretic qualifi-
cations, the teacher ought to possess clear and accurate views of the
end to be served. This, as hath been said, is the development of all
the parts of the child's compound nature. And how can he confront
8uch a task ur.less he knows something about that nature, unless he
knows it well, as a whole, in its parts, in its relations, in its tendencies.
Another professional qualification is the knowledge of the appliance
necessary for the development of that nature, and the proper use of
the same. And here it must appear palpable to all that the teacher
must make a stndy of the vrhole subject of method. And after he has
done 80, and clearly apprehends the method best fitted for this or that
mind, and for this and that subject, how is he to acquire the art of
using it ? In no other way than by practice. And does not all this
imply a season of preparation, a service of apprenticeship? But,
again, the whole subject of the organization, management and govern-
ment of schools demands not only enlarged theoretical views, but time
and experience thoroughly to carry into effect, ere a state of proficiency
in practice is reached.

Section III. — Means of obtaining the requisite Qualifi-
cations.

And how are these qualifications to be obtained ? What means
are to be resorted to for the purpose of their most efficient convey-
ance ? This question has been reiterated by successive progressive
educationists, and especially by those who have discovered and put
into execution some important principle in the inner life of education.
And it is interesting to notice, that the great majority of these have
pursued the almost identical course in the dissemination of their dis-
covery. They have established seminaries in the shape of Model
schools, for the purpose of presenting an exemplification of their views
and modes of operations. These schools have, generally, been largely
attended by cadets for teaching, who, when they acquired the particu-
lar method, repaired to other spheres of usefulness, and, in this way,
the improvement was propagated. So was it with all the pioneers of
education in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It has been
found, however, that when anything truly great was involved in these

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new methods, they had some principle or system of principles on
which they rested, and how are these to be expounded. Another
kind or class of schools was thus indispensably necessary for the
express purpose of imparting a knowledge both of the theory and
practice of the improvement. This was done by FrankJs born in 1671,
the founder of Normal schools, in the establishment of his Seminarium
precepforum, after he had exemplified his views and methods for year3
in his general schools. So was it with David Stow, lie first worked
out the essential features of his system in the Sabbath school. Crowds
went to witness his exemplification, and numbers of enterprising young
teachers were so powerfully attracted that they attended day after day
and week after week, until they had imbibed its v. titial character-
istics, and went forth with the determination of carrj mg it out in iheir
own special sphere of operation. But it was soon found that these
practical methods involved principles of deepest significance, and to do
justice to the same, these principles must be evolved and inculcated ;
in other words, the theoretical must accompany the practical ; and
hence the establishment of the school in Glasgow in 1826 for pupil
teachers. It was, with greatest appropriateness, called a Normal
school, because it was erected and set agoing for the express purpose of
training the future teachers of the young In a thorough acquaintance
with the principles and practice of a particular system, in accordance
with which everything must be conducted, after whose standard every-
thing must aim. This Normal school soon testified its worth and
usefulness by the superior qualifications of those who went forth from
within its walls ; and similar institutions were established, straightway,
over Britain and this continent. They had obtained a thorough foot-
ing more than a century before in several parts of the continent of
Europe. Like every novel undertaking, they had to encounter obstruc-
tions and prejudices. Some objected to them on the score of their
expensiveness ; others, on the ground of their untried character ; and
others, on the ground of their uselessness, on the one hand, or their
inefficiency, on the other. Nevertheless, whatever their character or
the opposition they met, they grew and multiplied apace, and now, in
theory, at least, they are acknowledged by all civilized nations upon
earth as one of the essential requisites of a initional education, and
provision made in every popular system for their support. Various
other plans and schemes have been propounded for the imparting of
professional qualifications to teachers. Some have maintained that
the necessity would be met by the establishment of a professor of
paideutics in our universities, and othera that teachers institutes and

^ »l

ART OF EDUCATION.

559

ing

teachers associations were sufficient. These, and such like plans, may
be good auxiliaries or helps, but they never will, and, we venture to
say, never cau prove a substitute for a properly conducted and properly
equipped Normal school. But whilst we feel persuaded, and boldly
avow, that Normal schools constitute the channel, the natural chan-
nel, for the qualifying of the teaching profession, we are far from
imagining that tnese institutions have, generally speaking, reached
a state of proficiency, or that they are yet out of the tentative pro-
cess, the experimental crucible. Some are well equipped and con-
ducted in a superior style. Some are miserably provided, and, as a
matter of course, fail in producing any substantial or beneficial results.
There is here just as grerl a variety, in proportion to their numbers,
as we find in any one institution or seminary of learning. It may not
be unprofitable now to state what constitutes, in our opinion, the
I ; ideal of a Normal school equipment.

1. In introducing this subject, we may state it as our deliberate
judgment, that Normal Schools should adhere rigidly to their own
proper work, the manufacture or the training of teachers. This is
universally acknowledged in theory, but it is sadly neglected and for-
gotten in practice. Perhaps, one half of these institutions are neither
more nor less than seminaries of learning, grammar schools or acade-
mies. They give some instruction on the business of teaching, exactly
as they do with any other branch; and this is all. This, if the student
has been attentive and diligent, is all that he has acquired, in addition
to his stock of knowledge, — a thing, this, not to be despised. But,
in so far as his real teaching capabilities are concerned, these are in
statu quo, so that he might just as well have attended any other
seminary of learning. Such Normal schools have entirely mistaken
their object as a distinctive class of educational institutions. If such
have Model or practising schools at all, they are mere appendages or
exemplifications; they serve no good practical purpose. Model
schools, worthy of their designation, should embody the peculiar
features of the theories inculcated in the collegiate department.

2. Again, Normal schools should select and exemplify a metitod.
The very designation of the term would lead one to expect that some
standard or common principle should pervade all the operations and
proceedings of the establishment, should be exhibited in every branch,
in every arrangement, in every amusement. This requires a constant
surveillance on the part of the head of the establishment, between
whom and his assistants there must be thorough sympathy and co-
operation, otherwise the designation is a misnomer. These institu-

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tions should be out and out practical. The amount of admission
scholarship is generally a fixed matter in them all. This is in tenor,
as follows : — 1. Good readers and spellers, and ability to give a fair
account of the piece read. 2. Elements of grammar and geography,
history of country, Great Britain, outline of universal history.
3. Arithmetic, fundamental rules, reduction, rule of three, fractions.
The first six weeks should be spent in a review of all these branches.
One day every week should be set apart for practice in these branches,
when the pupil-teacher takes the platform in presence of all the teach-
ers of the institution, the lesson in each department being given out
the night before. During this period, the outline of the professional
course should be sketched. All the exterior work, motions, physical
exercises, &c., should be conducted exactly in the same fashion as the
Model school. After the expiry of that time, the new work should
be begun, and provision made for practice in Model or practising
schools. On the day for practice in Model school, the pupil-teachers
are divided into as many groups as there are grades in the establish-
ment, and marched into the different apartments, each group being pre-
sided over by one of the teachers in Normal school. The masters
of Model school practise first hour on a kindred subject, the second
hour is taken up by pupil-teachers. Two or three, or more, practise,
whilst the rest are busily engaged taking notes, with the view of
criticising their fellow students on their return to Normal school.
After practice, the pupil-teachers return to their own hall, when the
criticism commences. After the pupils of each group have expressed
their views, the master, who accompanied that group, gives his opinion
relative to the criticism, and the whole is wound up by a few words
from the Principal. Along with this work, every day in sect'ons, the
pupils, once a we^k or so, after the lessons are gone over by the
teacher in his own department, are required to take the platform and
pursue the same course as the teacher. All this shows how com-
pletely a properly conducted Normal school is out and out practical.
No first class certificate ought to be granted to Normal students
except on the ground of proficiency in teaching, as well as in scholar-
ship. This would change the whole aspect and character of these
institutions, and in a short time effect a complete revolution in their
management.

3. But it is now time that w" describe briefly the , equipment
necessary to produce such effects. And it may be proper, first,
that we say a few words in reference to the buildings 5f a Normal
school institution. As to the size of such buildings all depends en the

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ART OF EDUCATION.

561

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the

population and extent of territory to be provided with teachers. For
every hundred thousand of a population, there ought to be accommo-
dation for at least twenty-five pupil teachers, or for every five hundred
thousand, for one hundred. This is size enough for any such institu-
tion, so as to do justice in the practical operations. But, whatever
be the size of the Normal College, no such building should be erected
without a proportionate suite of Model and practising schools. The
Model schools are supposed to furnish an exemplification of the
science or theory expounded and inculcated in the Normal College,
and the practising schools is the workshop for the pupil-teachers, the
arena for the experimental process. The Model and Uie practis-
ing schools are but too frequently united. This seldom fails to detract
from the eificiency of the establishment. These schools should be
manned by the ablest body of teachers that can be procured, men pos-
sessed of a thorough knowledge of the system both in its theoretical
and practical bearings, and animated by a noble enthusiasm to have it
fully illustrated, the Principal being facile princeps in everything
pertaining to the professional department, both theoretical and practi-
cal. But it may be of advantage that we extend our observations a
little in reference to the olRcers of such an institution. No Normal
school should, in our opinion, attempt to accommodate more than one
hundred students, which would be amply sufficient to supply, with
trained teachers, a population of five hundred thousand, and would
awaken a deeper interest in their respective localities, as well as sti-
mulate and encourage one another. This would impose a considerable
outlay on a nation's educational expenditure, but it would be eventually
the cheapest. It is impossible for one man to tlo justice to the practi-
cal department of a greater number. For such a school, there should
not be less than three teachers — the Principal, English and Classical,
and Mathematical, with one for the music and another for drawing.
One or two tutors for ancient and modern languages might assist in
certain localities for a few hours daily. The Principal is the lever of
the whole establishment; every operation and movement nuist be
entirely and absolutely under his control, or else the one grand end
cannot be accomplished. He takes the sole active management of the
professional department, and delivers lectures on the nature, the science
and the practice of teaching, or else uses a text-book. The latter,
when practicable, is much to be preferred. Besides, he will rc(|uire
to give lectures on natural science and natural philosophy, as furnish-
ing the most fruitful source for illustrations and oral lessons. The
English master's labour can scarcely be over-estimated.

•(i

»t

A great deal

562

teacher's text-book.

of the development process, both as regards the pupils themselves and
as fitting them for the carrying out of this end with the young, must
necessarily devolve on this officer. The mathematical master must
pursue pretty much the same course in his department, dwelling prin-
cipally on the fundamentals, and eliminating the rationalia in all their
principles, and laws, and results. As we have not room here for
enlargement, we subjoin, in tabular form, a view of the work done in
a Normal school of the size and equipment indicated.

Table of a week's studies in a Normal school of one hundred pupils,
divided into three sections — junior, senior and academic, or a, b and c,
for the period of three sessions or fifteen months — with three regular
masters and a teacher of drawing and one of music — thirty hours
weekly or six hours per diem for five days — with Model and practising
schools.

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Written exercises by whole school, once a week, at least. The last'
half of the session, the pupil-teachers, when in elassess, in rotation
and under the direction of the master of the department, preside.
Tliougli I), and c, when in classes, are together, they still prosecute
their respective studies.

Bcnejits of Normal Schools. These are many and great, direct and
indirect, affVcting, materially and beneficially, not only all the common
i-chool education of the country', wherever they exist in cllicient ope-
ratioUy but all the higher seminaries of learning, both academic and
collegiate. These benefits we cannot now illustrate. AVe can onl)
present our readers with a bare enumeration. Norawl schools are
beneficial —

1. Because they present to young men and women the best oppor-
tunity yet discovered of acquiring the knowledge of the business of
teaching, both theoretical and practical.

2. Because they are well calculated to cherish ami foster a profes-
sional spirit among teachers.

o. Because they introduce and disseminate, most extensively, im-
proved methods of teaching.

4. Because they beget and keep alive a love for the occupation.

y. Because they are admirably fitted to bring about a uniformity
of system in any country.

6. Because they send out, as a whole, the best qualified teachers.

This summary of the benefits of these institutions is ratified and
sealed by their continuous increase and progress, so that it may now
be said that they have become an indispensable requisite in all national
systems of education. About the beginning of the eighteenth century
the benevolent Franke of Halle, established his teaehers' seminary,
and now Prussia possesses not less than fifty-one Normal schools.
About twenty or thirty years afterwards the several States in Ger-
many countenanced this system of popular instruction, and their
Normal schools kept equal pace with their educational progress. And,
now, Saxony possesses 10, Austria 11^ Bavaria 9, "VVirtemberg 7,
Hanover 7, Baden 4, Hesse Cassel 3, Hesse Darmstadt 3. In 1817,
Holland erected 2, Belgium 2, Denmark 2, Sweden 1. In 1808,
France erected its first Normal school, and now it has not less than 97.
In 1835, Scotland built 2, the ouf) in Glasgow and the other in Edin-
burgh, though the former had been in existence on an inferior scale
for several years beforehand. In 1836, Ireland erected one in Dublin
of stupendous jize. In 1840, England commenced its operations in
this department, and now, along with Wales and Scotland, possesses

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1817,

1808,

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ART OF EDUCATIO!?.

565

•upwards of 40. In the New "World, Normal schools arc of more
recent date. Thongh the subject of Normal schools was agitated in
l^Iassacluisetts In 1825, it was not till 1839 that they were formally
f-et agoing, and, now, there are three in that State, with one in Boston
for the supply of that city alone with qualified teachers. In 1845, one
was established at Albany for the State of New York; in 1848,
another at Philadelphia for the State of Pennsylvania ; in 1849,
another at New Britain for the State of Connecticut; in 1850, another
fit Usilante for the State of Michigan. Now, there is scarcely a State
in the West and North without its Normal school. In British Ame-
rica, too, similar movements have taken place. In 1847, the first
Normal Echool for Ontario wrs opened, and in about five years they
took possession of their present spacious buildings. In Quebec, there
are four Normal schools ; two at Montreal, on€ for Roman Catholics
and one for Protestants ; and two at Quebec, all established under
Act of Parliament of 1857. In Nova Scotia in 1855. In New Bruns-
wick in 1850. In Prince Edward's Ishmd in 1856, &c.

Wyi have now discussed at some length the means by which teachers
may obtain their preparatory qualifications. We have said nothing as
to the time requisite for such preparation. That should never be less
than three sessions of five months each. If they are respectable
echolars when they enrol, this period, with ordinary diligence, should
put them in possession of a fair teaching equipment. This remark, of
course, refers exclusively to those who have never taught. For tliose
who have taught, provided their scholarship is at all corresponding
with the position they hold, some arrangement should be made in
•every such institution, to lessen the period of their attendance, though
here certain bounds must be fixed. And if these are the preparatory
moans for qualifying teachers, it may now be asked, What are the
means necessary for keeping up and extending tliese qualifications in
all the departments ? Among the various stimulants that may be
employed f(3r this purpose, we know none so beneficial, so likely to
prove effectual as teachers' institutes and associations ; and, along with
these, a thorough system of locfd and national inspection, with periodi-
cal examinations, &c.

Skction IV. — Femalk Teachikg.

Formerly, female teaching was confined to private families, or
private schools, or matrons' village schools, but now it very
generally prevails both in the Old and New World, especially
in the more juvenile or jirimary departments. It is unnecessary

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teacher's text-book.

here to refer to the prejudices that exist iu the minds of some,
and especially of tliose reared iu Scotland, againt female teach-
ing. It is more to our purpose that we say a word or two in
reference to the qualificatious and position of female teachers. We
do not here touch the controverted point, whether the mental
energies of the lemale mind will, as a whole, suffer comparison with
those of the mule. It is sutlicieut for us to know that, both by the
hiw of nature and revelation, there is a position of subordination and
of dependence assigned to the former, and hence there naay, and there
ought to be, situations in educational establishments bettor adapted to
the one sex than the other; and, accordin<»ly, it is generally admitted,
that the infant and primary departments are best fitted for the female,
whilst the head mastei-ships, and the more advancetl sections, are for
the male. This does not, and ought not to impose any restraint on
the studies of the former, whether literary or professional. On the
contrary, they ought to receive every possible encouragement to pro-
secute their studies and professional attainments with unabated ardor,
seeing that the perfection of teaching is simplicity, and that the most
profound erudition, and the most dexteinjus skill are required to make
the most common things plain. Neither will this general rule put any
impediment iu the way of individual exceptions, for higher positions
to be acknowledged either in the one case or other. The advice given
by Stow is, like himself, sound and solid, — " Let each sex copy the
excellencies of the other, the female teacher, the firmness of the male,
and the latter, the affection, kindness and entreaties of the former,"
and this will produce the best teaching.

Section V. — Difficulties op the Teacher.

There are ditficulties to be encountered in eve- a' employment, but
in sc ^':), these are more numerous and formidable iliuu in jthers, and
there is, perhaps, none more so than in that of teaching. Here, there
are difficulties both from without and from within, and it were well that
the youthful teacher calculated and weighed these, and prepared him-
self to do battle with them. Those originating externally are such as
the following ; — 1. Want of proper school accommodation. 2. Of pro-
per apparatus and text-books. 3. The irregularity of the attendance of
too many pupils. 4. The want of sympathy on the part of the parents.
5. The want of proper arrangements for carrying on a course of regu-
lar self-improvement. Nevertheless, in all these respects, within the
last t\^nty years or so, there has been a decided and progressive alte-
ration going on, which augurs well for the future. Indeed, all these

ART OF EDUCATION.

667

lale,

difficuliies will rapidly give way just as the subject of education rises
in public estimation.

But there is another class of difficulties, not so easily conquered,, —
we refer to those that sj)ring from internal causes. The3e difficulties
are such as the following : — 1. The great variety of natural gifts among
the young. 2. Closely allied to this, is the diversity of natural temper
and disposition. 3. This difficulty is all the greater and more formi-
dable, when we take into account the fact, that the treatment and dis-
cipline of one will be of little or no benefit to another ; so that the
management or code of regulations that has triumphed in one case,
will prove utter feebleness in another. What was effectual at first,
too, in course of time loses its virtue, and we are left in the same sea
of troubles, with our difficulties oftentimes increasing both in number
and perplexity, and these all the more when aggravated by the various
counteracting influences of home. Indeed, it is questionable if the
teacher is faithful to himself, to the cause of education and to the real
welfare of his scholars, if there is any one pursuit so environed with
difficulties, so full of snares and temptations, or demanding a larger
amount of public sympathy, support and co-operation.

Section VI. — Rewards of the Teacher.

"We have just spoken of the difficulties of the teacher, sufficient, were
there no compensatory rewards, to overwhelm and stagger the stoutest
and the boldest. We would now show, in a very few words, the cha-
racter of these rewards, which may be regarded in a threefold aspect,
— personal, relative and official.

1. As to personal rewards, there is, perhaps, none from which we
derive such an amount of benefit as that of teaching ; for in teaching
we must of necessity improve ourselves, and the more faithful and
enthusiastic we are in our vocation, the greater must be our progress.

2. But the reflex influence of the teacher's employments is not less
extensive than it is valuable in reference to the whole of his demeanor.
We know not, for example, a better arena for calling into livelier
exercise the grand peculiarities of Christianity. This enhances the
profession, and brings along with it a present reward. Another series
of benefits and of rewards springs from the relation subsisting between
the teacher and taught. If the work in which he is engaged implies
the obligation not only of studying mind generally, but of studying
the leading peculiarities of each, what a fund of knowledge must this
impart? And then, again, he is bound to mark the effect ^of the

f
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568

TEACIIEU S TEXT-BOOK.

'1,

various appliances, in all their modifications, upon each individual
inind, and how interesting and instructive must this exercise be? —
2. Another source of gratification to the teacher, springing from this
relation, is the progress of his puj»ils ; — 3. The direct reward arising
from their gratitude, with the acknowledgment of affectionate parents
and guardians.

3. As to the official rewards of the teacher, these are such as arise
from the nature of the work, viewed in all its relations, influences and
destinies, such as: — 1. Ihe consciousness of being engaged in an hon-
ourable employment. 2. The satisfixction of knowing that he is toiling
in the noblest field of Christian philanthropy. 3. That he is noulding
and fashioning the next generation, both in the state and the church.
But this is not all. From the perpetuating power of all that is great
and virtuous, the following generation will tell with tremendous effect
upon the next, and that again upon the succeeding, so that the potency
and duration of the teacher, instrumentally, can hardly be estimated
or conceived of. Nay, he is doing a work, not only for time, but for
eternity. The splashing of the oar in the great ocean is obliterated
and defaced by the succeeding wave, but fi'om the very constitution of
mind, no change, or vicissitude, or revolution can ever efface the
impressions that are made on its tablets. "Where is the office, then,
more wide-spreading in its influence, where is the work more pregnant
■with real reward ? Lastly, the teacher enjoys the smiles of heaven,
the good will of Ilim that dwelt in the bush encompasses his every
step. What instrumentality, next to the accredited ambassador of
heaven, so hallowed, so influential, so perpetuating, so eternally pro-
gressive ! Surely, then, the teacher stands upon high vantage ground,
surely he is warranted to expect peculiar manifestations of divine
approbation. What a recompense of reward is this !

RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.

The first thing requiring to be done in the inner work of national
education, is the selection of a system, thp next, is the qualifying of the
living aijent. What is to be done for this investiture with the suitable
qualifications? is the cry, the all but universal cry, a cry that will
increase in earnestness and impcrtunity in very proportion to the
enlightenment of the views that obtain on the subject-matter of educa-
tion. And this cry has not been expended in vain speculative notions
or desires ; it has been er lied in efforts of gigantic magnitude and of
wide-spreading influence, and that now for upwards of a quarter of a

ART or KDUCATION.

5G9

centtiry. The moro the state klcntifios hersolf witli the cause of edu-
cation, the more liberally she expends her revenue in its support and
furtherance, the more concerned will she be to secure an c<iuivakut
for this expenditure ; and as this maiidy depends upon the ability and
skill of the schoolmaster, the more intense will be her desires to see
these qualities possessed by him. No where, perhaps, in modern
times, has more been done towards the securing of this object than in
Great Britain. Sir J. K. Shuttleworth read, as with the light of a
sunbeam, the indissoluble connexion between the (pialification of the
teacher and the etRciency of the school ; and t' nigh he may have fallen
into extremes in the matter of apprentice teachers, and though in the
carrying out of his projects he may have involved the nation in the
expenditure of what some may think an extravagant sum, it has ever
been in the right direction, and for the accomplishment of the noblest
purpose.

In the body of this chapter, we have expressed ourselves in very
decided terms on the nature of professional qualification, and of the
only way of obtaining the same, being through the medium of well-
equipped and well-conditioned Normal schools. We yield to none in
our estimate of profound scholarship, as constituting one of the essential
(jualities in the securing of efficiencj^ in a teacher ; we are even ready
to go the length of admitting that it is the most essential, as it touches
and affects dvery other. But it were neeolors to attempt to shut our
eyes to 'Jie fact that this quality may be possessed, and yet the pos-
sessor may be, in many respects, a most incompetent teacher ; and that
not because of any hiherent stupidity, but because he has never served
an apprenticeship to the business. This can only be done by a con-
tinued attendance at a properly equipped Normal school, where theory
and practice not only go hand in hand, but where the one is considered
as but the mean and the other the end. We are free to admit, that
the philosophy of method may be propounded in erudite prelections by
professors in our colleges and universities, but the art never, never
C£iu be learned without personal, direct, patient, persevering practice,
a practice founded upon a right basis, — a basis that never ftiils to
produce valuable results.

Wlien a nation has got the length of guaranteeing a certain salary
to her teaching officers, and paying that salary directly out of her own
resources according to certain grades of teachers, she is bound to see
that there is something like uniformity in reference to these grades.
This is a difficult task. It cannot be arrived at by a uniformity of
queries, whether addressed to the candidates in a viva voce or in a

f I

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TEACIIEU'S TEXT-BOOK.

in-t

written form. "Where a variety of local boards exists, there will ever
be a diversity of interpretation, as well as of judgment. The noirest
ai)j)roxiraation that can possibly bo reached is, by the appointment of
a common board for the whole nation. All, however, that this com-
mon board can decide is the matter of scholarship, or the theoretic
knovvled^je of the profession. They can append no t^Ystimony in their
certificate to the professional power of the individual, either in organ-
izing, managing or governing a school, or in developing mind. This
can only be done, to any extent, through the instructive fiiculty of a
Normal school, after a due season of training has been gone through.
The above, in its essential elements, we are ha})py to say, is the j)laa
pursued in the province of Nova Scotia, under the auspices of the pre-
sent talented and energetic Superintendent of Education, — a plan
which only requires time, steady application and faithful working, not
only to bring about a general uniformity in the classification of teach-
ers, but the highest literary and professional qualifications.

I.- .1 {

IT '

SUBDIVISION II.--THE EXTERIOR.

r a AFTER I.

DUTY OF TIIE STATE TO EDUCATION.

Sect. I. — Rbasoxs why the State should establish and uphold a na-
tional EDUCATION — a. Its allegiance to the ooteunor of the
NATIONS ; h. Its responsibilities ; c. Its sekvino the purposes for

WHICH IT WAS instituted; d. No OTHER POWER OR AGENCY CAPABLE

OF OVERTAKING THE WORK. SeCT. 2. WhAT THE StATE OUGirT TO

DO — a. It OUGHT to provide an ADEQUATE QUANTITY; b. CojlPEL
THE ATTENDANCE OF ALL ; C. Do WHAT IN IT LIES TO SECURE THE
BEST QUALITY ; — TlIE SILIOIOUS ELEMENT.

In introducing the practice. of education, we stated certain reasons
for discussing it under the twofold aspect of the Interior and Exterior,
what comprehended under each of these aspects, and why we consid-
ered the Interior first.

In passing on to the Exterior, the first subject that meets our atten-
tion is the duty the State owes to education. This is a very extensive
and inviting theme ; we cannot do more than present an outline of the
argument.

reasons
xterior,
cousid-

atlcn-

Itenslve

of the

ART OF EDrCATIOM.

571

Section I.

Tliat nations, as such, have a duty to discharge to the education of
the young within tlieir border, is a truth, which few, if any, are dis-
posed to question. There may, and there does exist no small diversity
of opinion as to the nature or extent of tlie encouragement to bo
given, but, with one exception, those who hohl extreme vohmtary
views, we know none, who are not prepared to extend towards it a
certain measure of support. We ht-ro take the highest possible ground,
and unflinchingly maintain that it is the paramount duty of Christian
nations, in a national character, to establish and uphold national sys-
tems of education, and that for the following among other reasons : —

a. Because of their allegiance to the moral governor of the nations.
That nations, as such, derive their existence from, and are under the
government and control of the Almighty, both providentially and
morally, is alike the dictate of nature and revelation. But whilst
God maintains absolute and sovereign sway over the nations of the
earth, even as he does over individuals, and whilst national society,
political government, magistratical authority, all originate in the moral
government of God as the God of nations and not in the mediatorial
system, it must not be forgotten that God has placed the management
of the whole affairs of the moral universe in the hands of His Son as
Mediator. It is, therefore, not enough to say that nations owe their
existence to God. This is true, but it is not the whole truth on the
subject. They are to be regarded as originating in the will, authority
and appointment of the Messiah. He watches over and directs all
occurrences connected with them. He exacts obedience to his com-
mands. He overrules all their rebellion for good. Ho executes the
righteous judgment of God on wicked nations and . lers. As Prince
of the kings of the earth he opens uji a way for the universal dissemi-
nation and success of the Gospel among the nations. By wielding the
mediatorial sceptre, He preserves His church and protects His spir-
itual kingdom ; and will ultimately bring about an entire change in
the character and constitution of the nations of the world. The
period shall arrive when kings shall be nursing fathers and their
queens nursing mothers of the church ; and the kingdoms of the world
shall become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ.

If the mediator is thus invested with dominion over the nations, in
virtue of which He administers their regal acts, it follows as a natural
and unavoidable inference that there are duties which they owe to
Him, — nations as such are His subjects, and they ought to have respect

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to Ilim in all tlioir instiiiitions and transactions; to tako TTis law m
tlu'ir rulo, to atti'ud to tlio <[nali(ications Ho proscn'oos for tliiir rulers,
to havo respect to his authority iu their subjection to those who rule
over them, &c., &c.

And now, we ask, in what way is the nation as such, botli in its
rulers and subjects, to bo pervaded by right views, relative to the
person, and character, and government of Ilim by whom kings reign
and princes decree justice; how is the nation to be most extensively
inspired by a due sense of the sovereign authority of Him who nilcth
supreme in the armies of Heaven and amongst the inhabitants of
this earth, and of whom no one can say, ' What doest thou' ; how
are all the inhabitants to be made acquainted with His laws, its
requirements and })rohibitions ; how are they to obtain a knowledge
and an appreciation of the blessings which He, as the almoner of
Heaven, bestows upon them nationally? In no other way can this be
done than by the ditfusion of tlie universal education of the young in
every nation or community. And this education none but the nation
can give, and this she is bound to give in token of her loyalty to her
liege lord, in acknowledgment of her dependence upon Him not only
for her existence and preservation, but for all her immunities and
privileges.

b. Again, nations, as such, are bound to promote the cause of
national education, tor in no other way can they rid themselves of
their responsibilities. That civil government is an ordinance or aa
appointment of Heaven, is everywhere taught and believed. Whatever
the nature of the government, monarchical, aristocratical or demoerati-
cal, whatever is done directly by God or directly by man, the moment
the appointment to ofTice is legally constituted, all the powers of that
office, whether appertaining to the legislative or executive, are derived
directly from Heaven. These powers can alone be morally dispensed
in accordance with certain conditions, involving duties or respon-
sibilities of no ordinary character, but it is only in carrying out these
conditions that these officers are warranted to execute the power.
For example, all rulers are commanded to be a terror to evil doers,
the praise of such as do well ; and, in fulfilment of this injunction, they
are, in certain circumstances and in the case of certain transgressors,
invested with the power of life and death, but this they can only exe-
cute under certain conditions. The party must be legally tried and
condemned. But over and above all this, the individual ought, in all
equity, to have had the opportunity of knowing the nature of the law
under which he is placed, and whose penalty of death he lias incurred.

|-espon-
tliose

ART OP KDL'CATION.

573

If lie has resided within the bounds ,^f that nation, and notliinji has
been done by it to f^ivo him a knowledge of the hiw wliioh lie has vio-
lated, and which dooms him to death ; if he can plead, with all
honestj that ho neither knew the law, nor the punishment whit-h its
transgrossion involved, is the nation in such a case warranted, or
morally justifiahlt^ in executing the sentence? It is a fearful respon-
sibility to send a ftdlow creature into eternity, bearing, as he does, the
natural imago of his Creator. And, surely, before any executive is
empowered to do so, it is bou" d, in very justice, to consider, whether it
has discharged its own trust, whether it has acquitted itself of its own
responsibility in the onlightenment of all enjoying its rights and immu-
nities ; and, especially, used the means for imparting a knowledge of
the constitution, the laws and their penalties, under which they live.
But there are other responsibilities devolving ujwn nations as such,
and which they are bound to discharge both for their own safety and
preservation of all free institutions ; for instance, it is the duty and
privilege of the people to elect their rulers and legislators. These
legislators and rulers must possess certain qualificatiors for the dis-
charge of their functions, and it behooves the people to know boih the
one and the other of these, before they can faithfully and legitimately
exercise their elective franchise. Again, before the testimony of any
witness in a court of justice is adn)itted, he must take the oath that he
will tell ' the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, as he
shall answer to God in the day of judgment.' And to give assevera-
tion to this oath the scriptures of eternal truth are put into his hands.
And what does all this inijdy? Plainly, that he ought to possess an
accurate knowledge of the nature of an oath, of the Being he invokes,
as a witness of the truthfulness of his statement, as well as of the cha-
racter of his judge, as unfolded in his own word. Surely, we need
enter into no argumentation to show that nothing short of a sound and
universal education of the young, pervading any community, can possi-
bly secure these objects. And that education, it is the bounden duty,
as well as the highest privilege, of every enlightened Christian nation
to impart, that she may quit herself of * '^e varied responsibilities lying
upon her.

c. But, again, nations, as such, are placed under the most solemn
obligations to further the cause of national education, in every possible
way, because it is to education they owe their stability and glory.
We have already expatiated on the benefits which education confers
upon nations. We showed, what really constitute the prosperity
and happiness of every State, viz., the intelligence, the industry,

•' t

» '

.< '■ ■

%■

I '"I

if ,■

574

tkacher's text-kook.

and the morality of its inhabitants. These are the essential elements
of a nation's bliss, and nothing but a universal popular system of
education will secure their possession and perpetuity. It is alto-
gether unnecessary to unfold this theme anew here. It has, wo
apprehend, been proved to a demonstration, that these three ingredi-
ents lie at the very foundation of a nation's dignity and glory, and
that sound education, and that universally diffused, can alone bestow
them ; and if so, the inference must appear plain and palpable to all,
namely, the high, the imperative, the paramount duty of nations to
further the cause of education.

d. Nations, as such, ought to bring all their influence to bear on the
cause of popular education, inasmuch as it is they, and they alone, that
can cope with its difficulties, furnish the adequate supplies, overtake
the work. There seem to be three distinctive ways or agencies by
which the education of a community or State may be accomplished.
There is, first, the agency of corporations, or associations of individuals
uniting their resources and energies ; secondly, that of the different
branches of the Christian church, either aided or not aided by the
State, and, thirdly, that of nations. In reference to the first of these
methods or agencies, that of individuals, associating their resources
and energies in the furtherance of this object, such as the British and
Foreign School Society, and such like, it were altogether unwarrant*
able to deny that a large amount of good, educationally, has been
effected by their instrumentality. But no one, who knows anything
of theii" history and labours, will ever pretend to claim for them the
ability of supplying the educational wants of any community, or State,
or nation. Such an expectation were Utopian indeed.

In refer#^nce to the second way or agency, we are hero not left to
our own speculations, or theoretical conjectures, or inferences, as to
its competency or incompetency. It so happens, that for more than
a (piarter of a century, iCngland has been the arena of a grand experi-
ment of the denominational power or capability to ^supply the educa-
tional destitution of that great country, aided and abetted by the most
munificent grants made by the Imperial Parliament. The whole
subject of popular education in England, about thirty years ago,
received an immense Impulse by the appointment of a Committee of
J>ords of the Privy Council to preside over this department of the
public service, and to supplement, by a proportional allowance, the
sum raised by the different denominations of professing Christians,
and especially of the Church of England, the Wesleyan Methodists,
Roman Catholics, and a section of the CongregationalistSi This

mm/fft

ART OP EDUCATIO?f.

675

Committee was fortunate enough, at the commencement of its opera-
tions, to obtain the services of J. Kaye, Esq., afterwards Sir J. Kaye
Shuttlcworth, l?art., as Secretary, and both by the enthusiasm of that
gentleman regulating the public grants, and by the inherent zeal of
the denominations referred to, a stupendous effort has been put forth
in providing additional school accommodation, in elevating the standard
of teaching qualification, and in calling forth an apparatus of appliance
unparalleled in the annals of the history of education.

During the period of seventeen years, that is, from 1839 to 1856,
the following sums have been raised by the parties referred to, supple-
mented by grants in the building and improvement of Normal Colleges
alone : —

■4

Chiirrh of Eiif^lniul

Amount lubscribcd.

Am't. supplemented

£148,847 13 2i

16,433 7 9

33,101 9 3

1,000

6,630

£09,062 10 3
6,000
6,049 10
6,000
3,900

Hritish and Foreign School Society

W'ctilovuns

Home and Colonial

Koman Catholics

During the same period, for the erection and improvement of ordi-
nary schools : —

Church of England

Hritish and Foreign Society.

Wcslcyans

Koman Catholics

Amount subscribed.

£1,386,703 10 2J

92.8,36 4 3 J

34,693 4 Hi

6,713 19 2i

Am't. supplemented

£534,087 12 4i

48,269 1 3i

16,927 1 2

15,006 3 3

And what have been the results of this twofold agency, denomina-
tl ial and governmental? Since 1839, there have been added not
less than 2,740 new schools, and 1236 have been improved, 1492
teachers' residences have been built, and additional accommodation
provided for 492,028 children, allowing at the rate of 8 square feet of
superficial area for each child, 29 Normal colleges erected, 4,373 certi-
fied teachers, 225 assistants, nearly 2,000 Queen's scholars, and 10,245
pupil-teachers. And what, it may now be asked, is the actual condi-
tion of things in reference to this supply ? Is the result such as to
warrant the conclusion, that this agency is competent to cope with the
educational difficulties, or able adequately to meet the demands? So
far from this being the case, that at the expiry of the period already
referred to, there were not less than 2,262,019 not at school, who are of
Bchool age. The last census t.ibles prove that only 599,829 were at
Work, leaving, thereby, 1,614,413 unemployed. What an appalling

576

teacher's text-rook.

condition this ! How utterly futile to talk any longer of the capabili-
ties of the voluntary, or denominational, or 9ei)arato school system.
If ever there were a country in the wide world where one would have
expected success to crown such combined and well directed and pro-
tracted efforts, it would be England. Surely, the most strenuous
advocate of the separate system must henceforth resile from his posi-
tion and confess its utter incompetency to make the ade([uate supply.
And to what conclusion does this inevitably shut us up ? Clearly to
this, that nothing but the State can cope with the dilHculties, even in
reference to the matter of (piantity. And, after the experiment just
illustrated, it surely argues a temerity and presumption of no ordinary
kind for any other power or agency to attempt the work.

Section II.

So much for the reasons of the duty of nations towards education ;
what they ought to do in its promotion is evidently the next point of
enquiry, involving questions that have perplexed, and confounded, and
staggered the wisest and ablest statesmen, ecclesiastics and philanthro-
pists of the present day.

a. "We reply that every nation should make provision for the ade-
quate supply. By adequate quantity, is meant, that it is the nation's
duty to make the necessary provision for the education of all school-
able children within its border. Bv schoolable children is understood
all who are of school age, and who are or ought to be iji attendance.
As to the school age in any one nation or countt^ various elements
and circumstances require to be taken into consideration. Climate is
one of these. This has a certain effect upon mental development. In
tropical and frigid zones we have the two extremes, and in temperate
regions we have various modifications depending less or more on local
causes. Where, for instance, there are extremes of heat and cold,
there is much earlier development or precocity of mind than where
the temperature is more equable. This is the case with a considerable
proportion of British North America. So much so that if the school
age in Scotia Antlqua be from G to IG, that of Nova Scotia may be
fairly esti/nated lo bt from 5 to 15. There are various other modify-
ing elements, sr.ch as the general employment of the inhabitants in
districts v.'hcie there are large mining or manufacturing operations
going on, or the existence of a high aristocracy in the land, giving ri?o
to separate classes of schools into which we do not enter. It is the
duty of the nation, in providing an adequate supply, not to be measured
by che number iu attendance at the national schools, but to decide for

•wtt

l)Ui-
tcui.
luivc
pro-

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posi-
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i-ly to
/eu ill
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LVuuxry

oation ;
)oiut of
led, and
lauthro-

ART OP EDUCATION.

577

itself what really constitutes the school age ; and here it should call in
the aid of the most distinguished physico-psychologists, then ascertain
from the last census the proportion of the children at that age, and
provide accordingly. Generally speaking, and taking all the circum-
stances into acconnt, such as the probable increase during the period
of the duration of school houses and such like, we believe, it will be
found that the State has quitted itself well of its obligation, when
it has made provision for the education of one-fourth of the childrer
of every school section. And what are we to understand by providing
the adequate supply ? Plainly, that the nation erect a commodious
school-house in every section in accordance with the number of the
population, and in a style befitting the locality ; that it provide the
same with proper furniture, and apparatus, and text-books ; that it
make the necessary arrangement for the remuneration of the living
agent, — the teacher, as well as for the acquirement of his requisite
qualiiications ; and, lastly, that it g've suitable encouragement for
the establishment of school and village libraries and museums. And
what an ennobling position this ! We praise and extol the nation,
which builds its fortifications and its garrisons as a defence against the
assailing foe, we admire the costly structures and the immense appli-
ances at work for the punishing, the reclaiming, and the reforming of
the transgressors of its laws, but what are all these exhibitions of a
nation's providence, or prowess, or benevolence in comparison with
the attitude of that nation which acts upon the preventive far more
extensively than upon the curative ?

b. Again, nations, as such, are bound not only to provide the means
of education for all, but to compel the actual attendance of all. It is
a melancholy, yet notorious fact, that in all Christian lands, — the most
enlightened not excepted, — there exists an immense number of the
young of school age, who, though living under a free system, or what
is equivalent thereto, with abundant school accommodation in their
immediate vicinity, nevertheless calmly and deliberately absent them-
selves, and are, in consequence, growing up in worse than heathen
ignorance, cruelty and crime. By last census, there were, of school
age not in school, in England and Wales alone, 2,763,318. In Scot-
land, the diffusion of education is more extensive than in England.
The returns of the census give 318,517 day scholars in a population
of 2,888,742, which makes a proportion to the population of 12.76 per
cent., or 1 scholar to every 7.84 of the inhabitants. The darkness
that englooms the country, and which no ordinary process can now
dispel, is in the chief towns of England, Scotland and Ireland, and in

' I

, !

i f

578

teachkr's tf.xt-book.

milling and manufacturing districts. In Manchester alone, it has been
found that there are not less than 17,177 children between 3 and 15
years of age, neither attending school nor at work. In the city of
Glasgow, .Scotland, there are no fewer than 21,025 children between
5 and 10 not at school, and that only 1 in 14 of the populauun attend,
while 1 in 7 is the proportion for all Scotlai . And let it not be said
that this state of things is owing to the antiquity of these countries, or
the imperfections and deficiencies of their school law. It exists to an
appalling extent in every country, under all external systems, whether
purely national, or partly denominational and partly governmental ;
whether maintained by direct or indirect taxation with moderate fees ;
whether the educational enactment has been passed in ancient or more
modern times. In Ireland, where there is a national system, and no
fees charged in the case of parties unable to pay, and every possible
encouragement given to attend ; yet there are thousands growing up
untaught around the very doors of the national schools ; and even of
the 560,000 on the roll, the average daily attendance is remarka!)ly
low, less than one-half, and even of that half, one-half are reported as
learning the letters and words of one syllable. In England, too, there
are, in densely j)eopled localities, large and commodious school-houses,
offering a gratuitous education to all, and yet standing half empty. In
the United States, with local rates, local management, free schools,
and all the other appliances, which the liberality of the people devise
and maintain, so many are growing up idle and uneducated, that, in
addition to their truant and vagrant laws, the subject of compulsory
education is now seriously talked of and discussed. Even in many of
the larger towns in Canada, where the free system still possesses all
the freshness and buoyancy of youth, there are large numbers growing
up uneducated, and hence the efforts already put forth by the benevo-
lent and charitable in the establishment of ragged and industrial
schools. And, indeed, there is no more appalling evidence of the
existence and extent of this apathy, this moral paralysis in reference
to the value of a sound education, than what is furnished by the mul-
tiplication of these very institutions, — the ragged and industrial school
of every sort and hue, — and the abundant materials that seem to bo in
store for filling them. This is a sore evil, a wide-spreading leprosy on
the body politic, simmering, and seething, and diffusing its pestilential
malaria throughout all ranks and grades in the community, far more
extensively than is generally supposed. Various expedients have been
resorted to for the purpose of mitigating, if not remedying, the evil
complained of, but though these, in various ways, may have eifocted

' ! I

XRT OF F.DtrCATIOX.

r»79

enach good, particularly in directing attention to the prevalence of the
evil, they have left the evil in all its formidablencss, the sunken masses
have been unreached, and the hundreds of thousands of uneducated
children are still making the streets the sphere of their training, heed-
I-ess alike of the attractioiis of national schools and the invitations of
Christian philanthropy. And why is it so ? Mainly because all these
pretended cnres are at best but superficial in their character. They
leave the root of the evil untouched. That these masses of uneducated
children be effectually operated on, they must he treated preventively;
in other words, they must be enforced, compelled to attend school,
and that from the yoiingest schoolable age ; such coercive measures
must be resorted to as will arouse them from their moral apathy, and
train into such habits as will sever them forever from the idle, and
the vagrant, and the vicious.

And who or what party has tl«3 right and the power to apply
such compulsion as will prove effectual in securing the object ? Oa
whom does this responsibility rest ? Plainly and distinctly on the
State. If parents, ^y tens of thousands, are neglecting their chil-
dren, and if the church is completely baffled in her endeavours to
bring within the range of education Uie hundreds of thousands now
growing wp in ignorance, then, we maintain, that the State has
the right and power to interfere, and to devise whatever extraor-
dinary remedies it may think fit in the emergency. 1. It has the
ight, because it is bound to look well after its own preservation.
This is no longer believed to depend on the stolidity and ignorance
of the population, but on the enlightenment and moral principle
of all classes. If the prevalence of ignorance be indeed a corrosive
clement, separating, widely, the lower classes from the laiiddle and
higher, and facilitating the tumult and riot of revolution, then, surely,
it becomes the State to see that every one is tatight his duties as a
citizen, and his responsibilities as a moral and accountable being,
2. It is tlie right of the State to use compulsory means, because o£ its
own respon-sibilities. 3. It is its right, because it must govern for the
welfare and benefit of all parties, — of the many. If it is bound to
maintain the rights and immunities of parents, it is not less l)oun<l to
maintain those of the cliildren. " From a system of trades," says
Guthrie, " which offers up our children in sacrifice to the moloch of
money, and builds fortunes in many instances on the ruins of piil)Iic
morality and domestic happiness, from the cupidity of some parents
and the culpable negligence of others, helpless childhood implores
jirotection. We lau<rh at the Turk who builds hospitals for dogs, but

* n

'mrri^

mv^-

580

teacher's text-book.

leaves bis fellow-creatui'es to die uucured and uncared for, aud doing
80, we forget that dogs and liorses enjoy, by act of parliamen*^, a pro-
tection from cruelty anaong ourselves, which is denied to those whose
bodies and whose souls we leave savage parents to neglect and starve.
I lay it down as a principle, which cannot be controverted, aud which
lies, indeed, at the foundations of society, that no man shall be allowed
to rear his family a burden, and a nuisance, and a danger to the com-
munity. He has no more right to rear wild men and wild women,
and let them lose among us, than rear tigers and wolves and send
them abroad upon our streets. What four-footed animal is so danger-
ous to the community as that animal which unites the uncultivated
intellect of a man to the uncontrollable passions of a beast." And, if
childhood thus cries, has it not a claim to be heard and answered ? If
the parent is thus recreant of his duty, and, by this act, commits a
nuisance on the community around, surely the State has not only the
right to punish the parent, but to see that the claims and rights of the
young are duly attended to. And this can only be done by compulsion-
4. The State has the right to enforce the attendance of all school,
able children for the promotion of its own usefulness and influence.
If the nation is to serve the end for which it exists, it must have
absolute control over the educational department, both in the matter
of its extent and duration. There are hundreds and thousands of
parents, who are willing enough that their children shall receive edu-
cation up to a certain measure, such a measure as shall at least make
no encroachment on their monopolizing, aggrandizing spirit, or deprive
them of any personal comfort or advantage. And, hence, so irregular
is the attendance of such children at school, that, to hundreds and
thousands, when they grow up, the education they have received is of
scarcely any benefit. And what but the State can rectify this state of
things, not only to compel the attendance, but to regulate the whole
period of that attendance ? 6. The State has the right to enforce
school attendance, because it is deeply concerned in its own stability
and perpetuity. Why have nations in bygone times but waxed and
waned, risen to a certain pitch and then perished ? It is because they
have been destitute of the preserving salt of Christian principle. It i»
because they have lacked intrinsic worth, inherent excellence, the seed
of divine truth. If nations, then, would maintain their stability and
perpetuity, they must be leavened with this salt. And there is no
other way by which they can get this element than by the diffusion of
a high-toned Christian education. And who or what can effect such
a diffusion as the State itself?

1^,-1, .

ART OF EDUCATION.

581

Having thus seen that the State has the right to impose compulsory
education, it surely requires little or uo argumentation to show, that it
has the power, — a power which no society or church possesses. P^very
tyro in political economy is aware that every State has the person and
property of all its subjects under its control, and that it can impose
upon itself whatever burdens it likes for the upholding of the public
service. And what branch of the public service is ever to be compared
in importance and vastness with that of the thorough and universal
education of the people, lying as it does at the foundation of every
other, and imparting stability and glory to every other ? The State,
then, has not only the power to compel the attendance of every school-
able child within its border, but it is bound by every motive that can
be brought to bear on its self-preservation, its prosperity and advance-
ment, to use that power for the object contemplated. It is bound to
use it, first, for the benefit of the fallen and sunken, — of those who, if
they have not been already within the walls of a prison, are all in
course of training for it ; and the great majority of whom will cost
the nation hundreds upon hundreds of pounds, so that it were vastly
more economical to build school-houses and endow teachers for every
ten such persons, than to allow them to follow on in their present
infatuated career. But the State is not less bound to use its power to
secure the greater regularity of attendance of one-half the scholars,
and to protract the general attendance at school. This is a point of
paramount importance. How many individuals, for example, leave
school with such vague and indefinite notions on fundamental branches,
that they but rarely prosecute the study of them farther, soon forget
altogether what they had learned ; and thus, during the whole remain-
der of thciir days, derive little or no practical benefit from the educa-
tion received. A few months steady application might have removed
all these obstructions, and put them in a position that might have
enhanced the happiness of thousands. But to accomplish even this
requires the coercive interposition of the State ; and what would it be
doing in all this but acting the part of a benign parent ? And why
should we regard the whole subject of compulsory legislation for the
furtherar^e of education, with such suspicion, and jealousy, and abhor-
rence, when the principle has been already carried into practical opera-
tion in many things and ways, imposing as decided restraints on the
I'beri,/ of the subject as would be by compulsory education. Do not
communities and nations impose sanitary laws, especially during the
prevalence of some malignant plague, in whose violation heavy penal-
ties are inflicted ; and does this infringe in the least on the liberties of

582

teachkr's tkxt-book.

1^-

^ t

I! ' 1i

those who have even a regard to the ordinary laws of health? lias
not the British Parliament passed the Faetory Act, by which the
youth in the land are prohibited from labouring beyond a certain num-
ber of hours daily, thereby putting an embargo on the cupidity of
parents, on th<3 one hand, and on the aggrandizing selfishness of certain
mill-owners and manufacturers, on the other? But, further still, have
not the American and British nations both passed truant and vagrant
laws by which the policeman is empoweretl to apprehend those youths
who have evidently no employment, but who pass their time in idle-
ness and in prowling about the streets, the ready prey of the more
hardened in vice and crime ; and to hand them over to the nearest
teacher, expostulating with parents and guardians in reference to the-
contaminathig influences to which these yonths are subjected ? All that
is needed by these legislatures is to go a step or two farther, and work,
remedially and preventively, in the spheres out of which vagrants and
criminals are ever emerging. Would there not be incomparably
gv^ater consistency, justice and mercy in a compulsory enactment,
which "ould carry all into the public school and bless them with suit-
able education ? And what shall we say more ? Have not the German
race, and especially Prussia, already pioneered the way, and set the
noble example to all the civilized iiations of the world of passing a
compulsory law, by which parents are compelled, under certain penal-
ties, to send their offspring at a certain age to school ? And it is but a
few months sivice a great body of the people in the city of Manchester,.
Engl.ind, imposed upon themselves, not only direct taxation for th©
support of education, but the other essential requisite of a free system, —
compulsory attendance ; parents being required to send their children
to school, or else be subject to the penalty of forty shillings sterling.
Would that such a spirit were universally diffused, would that enlight-
ened and civilized nations but saw in what their real dignity, and
glory, and happiness consisted !

Having thus seen that every nation has both the ri^ht and the
power of rendering the education of the young strictly enforcive, and
that this may be done without any encroachment upon the privileges
of any party or sect, it becomes an important question, What is the
best method, in adaptation to local circumstances, of carrying into
effect any compulsory measure ? There is no need of wrangling or
contending about such a matter. Let the nation rise en masse, and
resolve that every child shall and must be educated, and the thing is
done. Observe the character of the resolution ' shall and must be
educated.' It is not that the young shall be prohibited from wasting

««rwrT

and

i\ the
and
lileges
118 the
■<■ into
»ng or
k and
ling i»
1st be
lasting

ART OF EDUCATION.

588

away their physical energies and stiuLiiig their mental development,
by only working half time and attending school the other half; they
may do this and yet receive little or no education, as the working of
the Factory IJill pretty substantially demonstrates, that there may bo
attendance without attainment ; and as results, even in Prussian
education, she,*, that numbers may reach manhood with almost no
education. School attendance is, no doubt, indispensable as a means,
but there ought to be a higher and nobler aim in all educational legis-
lation, even an educated jieople, and no pains or expense spared to
test and ensure success. Whatever fines may be imposed on parents
or guardians of the young, the utmoi^t care should be taken in iixing
a standard of attainment before the young can be acknowledged as
freemen, or entitled in any way to be enjfaged in any pursuit of the
State, or be counted worthy to be invested with the rights of citizenship.
For the accommodation of ail jiarties, ranks and degrees, it might be
of advantage to have two standards, a minimum and maximum ; the
former, being taken when the individual is ten years of age, who, when
satisfactorily past, may be allowed to work half time, if found to be
neediul ; the latter, for all and sundry at thirteen, who, when unable
to {)ass, should have certain brands of degradation appended to their
name, which should continue as long as they are under tl.is cloud.
Whatever may be the practical difficulties of this plan, on the one
hand, or expense, on the other, neither would be so great as meets us
at tlii- moment in the reforming of criminals and reclaiming a sunken
popu .trion.

3. But the State is bound also to see that the education given is
the best in point of quality. After a well ee^uipped external machinery
is fiiirly set agoing, a long period will not elapse until the desire is
felt and expressed, whether the State is receiving a requital, a due
compensation for the expenditure made, and an inquiry is accordingly
instituted. In justice to itself, to the interests involved, and for
future guidance, the State is bouud to see that the quality will stand
the test, and, in some measure, at lea.st, correspond with the immense
outlay. Amid the bustle of preparation, the excitement at the com-
mencement of such an undertaking, the public mind is completely
engrossed. But when all these have calmed down to sober realities
and to every day habitual 02>erations, there is a strong wish to discover
whether the fruit is at all equal to what might reasonably be expected,
whether the means and ends are in fair proportion. This is confessedly
a ditHcult subject ; there being so many contingencies and casualties
to weigh and biilance, and even, when these are properly adjusted, the

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dubieties of obtaining a correct and reliable body of statistics still
remain. Nevertheless, it is right and proper that an attempt be made,
even though it bo at best but an approximatiou to the truth tiiat is
reached. In such an investigation there are two criteria for our guid-
ance. First, whether the education given is in accordance with the
physical, intellectual and moral nature of the recipients, and whether,
along with the development of this nature, there is the lodgement in
the understanding and in the heart of sound, wholesome, useful instruc-
tion. Whilst there may be both a minimum and maximum measure
of attainment, there may be an average standard fixed, by which a
class of experienced and judicious inspectors may arrive at pretty
accurate conclusions. This is a universal test. The other referred
to, and which, perhaps, is the most appropriate one for the State to
apply, is, whether the education given in the several spheres of society
is calculated to make those occupying them good and useful members
of the same, if not to shed a lustre thereon ? In one word, is the edu-
cation, given and received, calculated to make intelligent, industrious
and moral citizens? These, as we have already seen, constitute a
happy and prosperous community or State. And every community
or State is bound to strive for the attainment of these in all its educa-
tional processes. These, and nothing short of these, should be the
returns it seeks for the expenditure of its means ; and it is only when
these are reached, that she has received a quid pro quo, a compensa-
tion for her toils and sacrifices.

Need it be stated, that in the investigation and discussion of these
criteria, we are treading upon delicate ground, — ground involving the
whole matter of the religious element, pre-eminently, the questio vexatd
of the present day in all national systems of education. In the physi-
cal and intellectual departments all seem to be atone ; every nation is
striving to outrival the other in aiming at the highest proficiency, and
in the adoption of the most promising improvements ; but it is far
otherwise with the moral or the religious element, as it is called.
Here statesmen, ecclesiastics, educationists and Christian patriots have
met and applied the mightiest efforts of their genius, the most profound
fetcliings of their sagacity, the most experienced strokes of diplomacy,
and the highest skill in casuistry, without any decided beneficial results.
It does not comport with our plan to conduct our readers even through
the historic details of this controversy. All that we shall do is to
present the various expedients that hcve been resorted to, and the
attempts made with a view to the solution or extrication of this difli-
cult problem. These may be all summarily compr^uended under the

ART OF EDUCATION.

085

these
ig the
vexatd
ihysi-
ition is
y,and
is far
called.
s have
ofouud
)inacy,
•esults.

lirou

is to
id the
diffi-
tbo

ier

four following heads : — 1. The worldly-moral scheme. 2. The com-
promise scheme. 3. The denominational or the separate school
scheme. 4. The negative or neutral scheme.

1. The worldly-moral scheme. By worldly morality is luiderstood
the sense alRxed by the world to what is right or wrong. It has no
eye to the relation subsisting between the Creator and the creature,
nor recognizes the will nor the law of the divine being as its standard.
It only looks at the bond uniting man and man, and regards, as its
supreme criterion of judgment, worldly honour, worldly justice, or
what meets the approbation of mankind at large. Its highest
authority is the human, not the divine. The will of the creature, not
that of the Creator, is the only power that can be publicly acknow-
ledged. Yoxx may teach morality as stoutly as you like, provided you
say nothing about the sanctions or sayings of the Bible. You may
inculcate duty and obligation with whatever earnestness or impressive-
ness you may, provided you derive them from no higher than natural
sources. The barest-faced secularist never imagines that his boy at
school, when found guilty of telling an untruth or stealing his neigh-
bours property, is to be allowed to escape unchastizcd or unpunished ;
he earnestly desires him to be censured, to have the severest peiialty
inflicted, and his conduct held up to the scorn and contempt of his
fellows, but not a word is to be littered about the transaction respect-
ing Ananias and Sapphira, no allusion is to be made to the eighth
commandment of the decalogue. This is deism with a witness. By
this means the difficulty is apparently got over, but in reality it is to
fall into one much more serious. It is a sapping of the foundation of
all morality, transferring it from an infallible standard to the ever-
shifting sands of human caprice, of worldly honour. This schenie is
neither more nor less than a clandestine endeavour to throw off the
yoke of Christianity altogether, to cast aside the purest code of morals
the world ever saw, which, like its author, is absolutely perfect, and
which, whilst it binds man to his Creator, can alone bind him to his
fellows.

2. The compromise scheme. By this scheme is to be understood
certain concessions made by the British parliament, on occasion of the
introduction of the national system into Ireland, in 1828. The Kildare
street schools, which had existed under the sanction of parliament
from 1812, had been allowed the bare reading of the Bible, either in
the authorized or Douay version. This at length drew forth the
most violent agitation, which led to the following concessions, made by
Lord Stanley in his celebrated letter to the Duke of Leinster:—

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" liut it seems to liavo been overlooked tlmt the priiiiMple.j of tlio
Rouian Catholic ehurch were totally at variance with this principle,
(that is, the principle of the bare reading of the IJible) and that tho
indiscriminate reading of tho Holy Scriptnres, without note or com-
ment, by children, must bo peculiarly obnoxious to th3 church, which
denies even to adults tho right of unaided private interpretation of tho
t^acred volume with respect to the articles of religious belief." To
meet this difficulty and to check agitation, many schemes were j)ro-
posed. At length it was recommended that a syst'om be adopted,
which should afford, if possible, a combined literary and a separate
religious education ; that while the interests of religion are not over-
looked, the most scrupulous care should be taken not to interfere with
the peculiar tenets of any description of Christian pupils. This
scheme, then, consists of two things, lirst, an entire severance of tho
secular and religious branches in teaci »ng ; second, in tlie various
literary and scientific text-books employed, there is an entire (jxclu-
sion of all allusion to any one denomination of professing Chris-
tians, nothing whatever said regarding it, either doctrinal or his-
torical. Such are the two important concessions, the plainly avowed
end of which was to secure a united education, and the genial anialga-
malion of sects in Ireland ; to raise the eOicational condition of tho
country, &c. This, which we have called tho compromise scheme,
has been in existence in Ireland for upwards of thirty years. Its
leading feature, in so far as the religious elemeut is concerned, has
been inserted in the Ontario, and also in the New York State sys-
tem of education. And the question now arises, has it, fuiriy and
folly, met the difficulty or accomplished the object contemplated ?
We think not. There are serious objections to the scheme in theory,
wliich we can only afford space to enumerate. First, it is a divorce-
ment of what the All-wise and Almighty Creator has insepa-ably
united, namely, the intellectual and moral nature of the child. Neither,
from their very nature, can receive justice at the hand of the most
skilful educator, unless they are educated together. Second, it makes
provision for the religious and moral inslruction of the child, but none
for his religious and moral education, and consequently puts it beyond
tho reach of tho most competent and best disposed teacher to obey,
professionally, the Bible precept, " Train up a child in the way ho
should go." Third, it is a relinquishment, on the part of Protestant
nations, of w'nat constitutes their main glory, and crowns them with all
their distinciion, namely, the free and unfettered use of the Bible, of
the word of the living God, as much the birthright of every child as

'ifJA

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ART OP EDUCATION.

587

1, has
e sys-
y and
iitccl?
K'.ory,
Ivorce-
n-ubly
ither,
most
makes
none
eyond
obey,
lay ho
estant
ith all
)le, of
liUl as

Ifcavoii's light niul Ilonven's atnmsphero. IJut our objections to the
echcnu; are not less serious, practically regarded. We think it has
faili'd to eflect the ends intended. After a careful survey of the work-
ing of this scheme in Ireland, the conclusion has been forced upon us,
that the system there pursued is out and out a denominational one.
Both in the south and the north, religious instruction is imparted
according to the preponderance of the denomination. Hut this is
obvif nsly in direct contravention of the fundamental priui^ple of the
theory, namely, a combined literary and a separate religious educa-
tion. And what is the education imparted ? It is exceedingly
meagre, the average attendance of those on the roll being much less
than one-half, and the general range of instruction reported as con-
sisting of the learning of letters and words of one syllable; 1235
teachers of all denominations, and 5533 Koman Catholic. Every
sect seems to act as it lists, and, if need be, a dispensation is at onco
granted by the commissioners. It is, as near as may be, a denomina-
tional system, and cannot, therefore, furnish any test of its professed
distiii'mishing characteristic.

Tht> national schools of Ontario are professedly non-denominational,
and has that proved effectual in satisfying and amalgamatiiig the vari-
ous denominations of Christians, has that tended to the advancement
of its educational system? Let the annual report of 1855-6, of the
talented and ever-vigilant superintendent of education, answer this
question. Let Dr. Ryerson's letters, in his reply to the attacks of
foreign ecclesiastics against the schools and universities of Ontario, be
carefully perused. The legislature of New York also passed laws
making similar concessions, meeting the favorite theory of secular
education without sectarian teaching in books. And what was the
result ? Soon nothing remained but the barest deism, and the common
schools became the arena of the broils and disturbances of 'the various
branches of Christianity.

3. The denominational scheme. Allusion has already been made
to the great educational work that has been carried on in England for
the last thirty years, through the medium of the more influential
denominations, aided by supplementary governmental grants. The
government, laying hold of the religiousness of the country, — the most
powerful of all agencies, — has stimulated it to the uttermost in the
erection of school-houses, in the payment of teacher's salaries, and in
the supply of books, maps, and apparatus. It tenders its assistance on
condition of certain principles and regulations being complied with,
and whatever the amount raised by the denomination, it readily grants

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an equivalent. It thus depends on denominafionalism, insists on
religious teaching as an indispensable pre-requisite, and refuses assist-
ance in any form to secular schools. It has largely supplied much
clamant destitution in education, roused to the highest pitch denomi-
national zeal, and largely eleva»ed ihe standard of ieaching qualification.

And yet tlw^ scherce is exposed to many formidable objections both
theoretical and practical, .v l)rief enumeration of whici: we am only
now give. First, it diffuses and perpetuates a oectariau spirit, and
presents a flagrant cortrast to tiie natiorjal system of Ireland.
"What inconsistencies does expediency not lead io ? Second, it
puts every barrier or obstructiou ii; the way of graded schools.
Every denomination must stand by and maintain its own school to
entitle it to any public grant. This scheme is peculiarly inept and
unsuitable in a young country. Third, it lacks the attribute of
constancy and continuousness. Fourth, under the most advantage-
ous circumstances, it has proved itself utterly inadeiiuate to meet the
educational wants of n people. (See first section.) A.nd the saddest
feature here lies ht its leaving the substratum of society untouched,
the very poitlon in every community standing most in need of
education, demanding, evei, or economical grounds, all the toils and
sacrifices of any S'ate. T^ui,, lifth, perhaps, the most formidable of all
objections to this scheme, is the expressior. of equal countenance it
gives by the l-^gislature t(i all forms of religion. The government
demands, as the '^onditicn '>f its grai.i, a certificate that the children
in attendance have been fjiught the ••reed or religious tenets of the
patrons of 'he schoi^l. A. bare allowance would amount only to a
general toleration, whereas ft requirement involves in it all the mis-
chief and guilt of an ladiscrimioaft endcwmen; of truth and error.

4. The negative or leutra^ scheme. Ir; thi.s scheme the legislature
abstains from introducing the element of religion at all, not because
they deem It insignificant (the contrary might be strongly expressed
in the preamble of their act) but because of the divided state of the
Christian world ; just as they would attempt no control over the religi-
ous views of the applicants for aid, so they take no cognizance of the
same, and devolve the whole responsibility of this important matter
upon the local parties, the managers or the trustees. This is substan-
tially the scheme proposed by Dr. Chalmers. That devoted philan-
thropist and educationist, tatisfied that just us the voluntary system
could not adequately supply Christian ordinances, far less could it
supply the educational wants of the rising generation, was inspired
by an ardent desire that the British nation should act worthy of itself,

ART OP EDUCATION.

589

et the

uldest

uched,

ied of

Is and

^ of all

ince it

•iiraent

uklren
of the

,y to a

lie mis-
ii'.

Islalure
lecause
ressed
of the
vcligi-
of the
matter
abstau-
(hilan-
jsystem
loiild it
iispired
If itself,

and devise some enlightened liberal plan for the thorough education of
every child within its borders. The subject seemed to occupy no
small share of his attention : and shortly before his death he wrote
some of the members of the government, proposing the scheme just
mentioned with curtain explanations and reservations. lie did not
propose this scheme as the best absolutely, but only the best in pre-
sent circumstances. At the same time, he expressed his despair of
any great or general good in the way of christianizing a population,
but through the medium of a government, themselves Christian, and
endowing the true religion, which he held to be their imperative duty,
not because it is the religion of the many, but because it is true.
This scheme we have long maintained, as not only the best, but the
only practicable one in our present position. We are awave that
some object to it, because it does not go far enough, that it is purely
negative, and just leaves matters as they were. It is, no doubt, true
that the legislature acts a negative part, but it boldly and unflinch-
ingly avows its reason for so doing, not because of any unwillingness,
but entirely on account of the present condition of the Christian
world, now broken up into sects and parties innumerable, and seem-
ingly incapable of any effort for so healing those wretched divisions,
as to give the rulers of the country such a clear and unequivocal
majority in favour of what is good and true, as might at once determine
them to fix upon and espouse it ; and, av,cordingly, it lays the blame
not at the door of the present state of the legislature, as at the door
of these very divisions. Others object to this scheme on the ground
that it will give rise to interminable local discussions, that it is a mere
shifting of the difficulty from the inner halls of legislation, and trans-
ferring it to the outer fields of society. There might be some force in
tills objection, were all schocl sections given to disputation, and con-
troversy, and quarrelsomeness on such a subject. But we ieel confi-
dent that there are comparatively few, indeed, that would object to a
sound moral education, founded upon the word of God alone, without
catechisms, . or confessions, or creeds ; and where any disturbance
might arise, that, in most cases, could bo easily adjusted by the
parties themselves. We have always maintained that there are three
parties in every community interested in the education of the young,
viz., tiio parent, the church, and the State. Let the legislature fix
what proportion should be appointed to represent each of these parties,
and how appointed, and this, we are persuaded, would dissipate still
more the difficulties referred to. Another class might still object to
this scheme on the same ground, that it leaves the minority in any sec-

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590

teacher's text-book.

tion without relief. The majority might determine on having a sound
scriptural education, but tho minority are equally opposed, and what
are the latter in these circumstances to do ? There mast be nothing
in the shape of persecution, and the educational authorities must be
stringently bound in such cases only to teach every scholar in attend-
ance the branches requested by the parents. And again, where the
majority excludes the Bible and the minority is in favour of it, the
parents and the church must just seek to realize a heavier respon-
sibility, and ply all the more diligently the various substitutionary
means.

We have referred to the objections, let us now say a word or two in
reference to the excellencies of this scheme. 1. It opens a way for
the carrying on of a national system without any violation of princi-
ple. 2. It exactly meets the views of the voluntaries, composing no
small portion in every mixed community. 3. It naturally stimulates
to a more wholesome rivalship on the part of the various secti ns of
the Christian church, seeing that the families of the land have been
thereby elevated to a higher platform than before, both in mental
culture and in general learning. This is substantially the scheme that
has been carried into eifect in the province of Nova Scotia. In the
enactment, which has recently received the sanction of the legislature,
it is distinctly specified " that it is the duty of the teacher to inculcate,
by precept and example, a respect for religion and the principles of
Christian morality." "Whilst it imposes this universal duty on every
teacher, it gives no instructions or regulations as to how this is to be
carried into effect, leaving all such matters under the control and direc-
tion of the trustees, acting on behalf of the parents, in their engage-
ment with the ieacher. This we hold to be a wise and judicious
arrangement, and the main reaaon why the various parties and deno-
minations are working so harmoniously and unitedly in carrying the
same into eiSect.

RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.

This chapter we have divided into two sections, assigning, under
the first, four reasons for the State establishing and supporting a
thoroughly national system of education ; and, under the second,
showing three things that the State ought to do ;■ — 1. To make provi
sion for the adequate quantity ; — 2. To compel the attendance of all ;—
3. To use all means for securing the best quality.

We regret that on a subject of puch vital importance, we should

AKT OP EDUCATION.

591

1 be

L-ec-

rage-

noua

ieuo-

the

linder
lag a
Icoud,
trovi
lll;-

lould

have been compelled to betake ourselves so largely to abridgement.
We have only been able to indicate the Hue of argument, and yet, we
trust, we liave said enough to guide and direct the thoughts of the
attentive reader into such channels as will interest and profit. We
have dwelt at greater length on the second than on the first section,
and that for the obvious reasons — its importance on the one hand, and
its ditllculties on the other. vShould the voluntary in ecclesiastical
matters ima^jine, that we have gone too far, and that we have out and
out hoinologated the views entertained by those who uphold the estab-
lishment principle, we trust, he will find enough in the third and fourth
reasons for the State's interference without any encroachment on, or
violation of, the views, he holds sacred. The whole of the first section
will be more advantageously studied when accompanied with a careful
perusal of the third chapter in the first book, viz.. The benefits of edu-
cation to the State. The second section, viz., What the State may
and ought to do ? occupies larger space, and that simply because the
subject is more difficult and complicated. The second point — the
duty of the »State to use coercive measures to secure the attendance of
all schoolable children, when the doors are thrown open for the admis-
sion of all, — has been elaborately discussed, and that because of the
very novelty and strangeness which the mention of the word, compul-
sion, mav have in the ears of not a few colonists. We were desirous
to establish our position, the right and power of the State to pass and
exact such a measure in its most literal acceptation. Various modifi-
cations may, however, be made in such an enactment, which may strip
it of much of its ofFensiveness in the estimation of some, and yet the
object contemplated be accomplished. The investiture, for example,
with certain rights or immunities as a citizen, on his entrance on one
of the artizan trades, by his successfully passing through a certain
ordeal of examination, will, of itseh^ operate most beneficially on the
aspiring youth, and this, again, by the power of sympathy, will rouse
the indolent and lethargic. Of one thing, we are persuaded, that
nothing bul compulsion under a free system will reach the masses,
that portion of the population which it is most desirable in every
community to reach, even on the low secular view of economy. The
religious element, as it has been called, has, by reason of its very com-
plexity, received a full discussion, though even that does not reach
the fulness its importance demands. Wo pray the reader's attention
to the real point at issue. It is not whether the Bible is to be used
in school ? This has been considered and settled in the chapter on
Moral Education. If moral education is to be taught, and taught it

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should, or else we act in diametric opposition to the law of nature and
revelation, then it is as necessary that the Bible be used, as it is that
the sun shine, if we would have natural light. The real question is —
What, in a mixed community of Christian faith, and worship, and
discipline, is the duty of the legislature respecting the Bible, when it
legislates on the matter of national education ? And what is the real
import of the answer we have given to this question ? In recom-
mending the negative or neutral scheme, all that we do is to transfer
the nature and extent of the moral education given from the legislature
to the parents, — the natural instructors of their offspring. We do not
free the legislature from its responsibility in the matter ; we insist on
its passing a judgment to the effect that moral education is an indis-
pensable requisite in a national system, and we devolve on the parents
the responsibility of the nature of that branch of education to be
imparted. We do not say that this is the optimism of the course to
be taken, but we do say that, in present circumstances, it is the best,
perhaps the only practicable course ; and that if it does not come up
to the mark that some consider desirable, it is, at any rate, free from
all unsoundness of principle.

CHAPTER II.

THE DUTY OF THE CHURCH TO EDUCATION.

Sect. 1. — Provision made bt Head of the Church fob the education
OP THE YOUNG — a. Hb HAS imposed certain obligations on the

PARENT, acting UNDER THE AUTHORITY AND DIRECTION OF THE ChURCH ;
b. He has ENFORCED AND ILLUSTRATED THIS ARRANGEMENT BY Hl8
OWN EXAMPLE ; C. It IS THE ClIURCU'S OWN INTEREST AND PRIVILEGE.

Sect. 2. — What the Church may and ought to do — a. She ought
TO use every moral mbans to arouse the State to a sense of

ITS DUTY IN providing AN ADEQUATE AND SUITABLE QUANTITY ;

b. She ought to see that the education given is op the right
soRTjc. She ought to take steps to ascbbtain,"that this educa-
tion, BOTH IN point OP QUANTITY AND QUALITY, IS ACTUALLY GIVEN.

It is almost unnecessary to observe that the term Church, is here
taken in its widest and most unlimited acceptation, embracing all
professing Christendom, in contradistinction to Judaism, Mahometan-
ism and Paganism, in all its forms. In this sense there are generally
considered three grand associations or churches — the Greek, the
Roman Catholic and Protestant. These, again, are subdivided into a

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ART OF EDUCATIOX,

593

ITION
THE
IKCH ;

Hia

LEGE.
UGIIT
K OP

riTY;

IIGHT
DUCA-
IVEN.

here
2 all
etan-
rally
the

Into a

great variety of branches, all professing adherence to one common
founder, all declaring their faith in the divine origin of Christianity,
and in the Bible, as a revelation frona Heaven.

Every one of these branches of Christianity recognizes its obliga-
tions to the young within their respective pales, and seems jierfectly
satislied, that uidcss something substantial is done for their uptraining,
for their beliefs and their acts, there is no guarantee or security for
their own preservation or extension. Of all this they are firmly
persuaded, some, no doubt, to a larger extent than others, and,
accordingly, they all make some piovision for the secular and religious
education of the young.

Section I. — PitovisiON made by Head op the Chukcii fou

THE EDUCATION OF THE YOUNG.

The divine author of Christianity hath not left the education of the
young to the hap-hazard contingencies of ecclesiastical councils or
decrees, or to the interested deductions of creeds and denominations,
but hath committed to the church the charge and responsibility, and
accompanied the trust with all needful insiructions, directions and
examples. It is not our province to open up any theological contro-
versy regarding the position assigned the young by the God of Israel ;
but no one, even the most superficial reader of the scriptures, can
fail to perceive the high estimate in which they have been held by
the Almighty, and the provision made under every new development
of the dispensations of His griice for their instruction and training ;
more particularly his proffering his willingness to Noah, to Abraham,
to David and the other heads of the human family, to be not only
their God, but the God of their seed for perpetual generations, and
the arrangement made for conveying the intelligence of this rela-
tion through the medium of the parents. " And these words, which I
command thee this day," saith Jehovah to the Hebrew paren ts, "shall
be in thine heart, and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy chil-
dren, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thy house, and when
thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down and when thou
risest up"; and the ratification given to all this, by establishing a
testimony in Jacob, and appointing a law in Israel, " which He com-
manded our fathers that they should make known to their children,
that the generations to come might know them, even the children
which should be born, who should arise and declare them to their
children." What an admirable arrangement this, how well fitted to
secure the perpetuation of His cause in the earth, and of the handing

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down of His glor^ from one generation to another ! And should the
parents backslide or forget their solemn obligations to the God of
Israel, who or what party was to see this testimony fulfilled and this
law obeyed ? Who, but the church, the witnesses of His perfections,
the radiators of His glory and the executors of His purposes ? The
precept, " Feed my lambs," is not less binding on the church than it
is a test of attachment to her living Head. The words just quoted,
were addressed by the Messiah to Peter, and through him to the
church in all succeeding ages ; and in very proportion to her obedience
to this command, does she manifest not only her attachment to the
young, but to Him, who has all power in heaven and in earth com-
mitted unto Him, and who still regards with ineflable complacency,
this class iu the population, as having received from them, when He
tabernacled upon earth, the very perfection of praise. It is, no doubt,
true, that the exhortations and instructions contained in the Bible
respecting the relations of parent and child, and the duties springing
therefrom, are addressed directly to these parties, respectively. But,
Burely, no one will deny that both the one and the other of these are
placed under the control md management of the church. Indeed, one
of the special ends ot her institution is to see that all, in their several
places and relations, carry out the will of their glorified Head, obtem-
per the instructions so plainly laid down in His own testimony.

2. The example of the teacher of Nazareth in reference to the
young, ought to give enforcement and stringency to the obligations of
the church. It was foretold respecting this illustrious personage,
that He should gather the lambs with His arms and carry them in Ilia
bosom ; that He would pour His spirit upon the seed of the faithful,
and His blessing upon their offspring, so that they should spring up
as among the grass, as willows by the water courses. And did he not
verify, to the very letter, these and similar predictions, did He not
ever manifest the deepest concern in the welfare of the young ? When
His disciples would fain have kept them back from His presence, did
He not at once reprimand and rebuke them, whilst He took the lit'clo
ones up in His arms and pronounced upon them that benediction,
which alone maketh rich and addeth no sorrow? Did lie not
denounce the heaviest woes against those who should dare to offend
one of these little ones, stating, as His reason, that their angels do
always behold the face of their Father in Heaven ? Did He not
again and again present them to the surrounding multitude, as a
type and exemplification of that humility, of that confiding dependence
on God, which all must cherish before they enter into the kingdom

ART OP EDUCATION.

595

of Heaven? And should not the church tlirongliout all her borders
tread, in this respect, in the footsteps of her risen Lord, follow the
example of her living Head ? What is it that gives such emphasis,
such preponderating force to all the other reasons assigned for the
weekly rest ? It is the example of the Almighty, first, as our creative,
and, secondly, a'^ our redeeming God. So should it be in the case
before us. Did not the great teacher single out this class in the popu-
lation, regard it with the benignest couii)lacency, and receive from it
the highest hosannahs of praise, for the very purpose of presenting
the most powerful argument and motive to the church in all subssqueut
ages, to spread around the young the wings of her protection, to visit
them with peculiar manifestations of her regard, and to be ready to
make every possible sacrifice for their welfore and bliss ? And has
not the church shone forth in resplendent lustre in very proportion to
the nearness of her copy of the immaculate example ? How exalted
the eulogium pronounced upon Abraham, because of his commanding
his children and his household after him ! How sad, and desolate, and
calamitous, on the contrary, the fate of Eli, who, though cognizant of
the crimes and the follies of his children, yet restrained them not !

3. But if it is the obligation, it is not less the interest of the
church, to befriend the rising generation from the benefits directly
flowing to her through their education. The benefits which the church
derives from education, have been already elaborated under five or six
distinct heads. "We have looked at every aspect of the church's great
work, and have observed the mighty advantage she derives from educa-
tion in the performance of every department of that work. Compre-
hensively regarded, there are just two fields which the church has to
occujiy, viz., to defend and propagate the truth. How helpless in
both these respects is she without education ! True it is, tliat all
learning, and argumentation, and zeal will be utterly unavailing unless
a higher hand, a supernatural agency gives efficiency to the most
suitable instrumentality ; but we know right well, that we possess not
the vestige of a warrant to expect the outgoings of that agency, urdess
we have jiut the instrumentality in the best possible condition, unless
we have the natural implements thoroughly furbished. Nothing will
80 largely enhance and elevrate the church as a high-toned physical,
intellectual, emotional and moral education. For her own sake, then,
for her own blessedness and usefulness, for her own dignity and glory,
should the church seek to promote, in every possible way, the educa-
tion of the young. Then, indeed, would she go forth fully plcnished
with the materials necessary for the execution of her heaven-born

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commission, and cease not trom her labour of love until she has pros-
trated in the dust every antagonistic power.

Section IL

And now, is it asked, how is she to do this, how is she to quit her-
self of her obligations ? We answer, in a great variety of ways, botli
directly and indirectly. 1. She is bound, for example, to employ
every moral means to arouse the State to a sense of its duty in pro-
viding an adequate and suitable quantity of education. We say moral,
for she possesses no other power that she can legitimately employ in
such a case. Though the State and the Church arc both divinely
instituted ordinances, and may co-operate with each other, and largely
advance each other's welfare, yet they have each a separate jurisdic-
tion, and may not interfere with or usurp each others functions. We
have shown it to be the special duty of the State to provide the ade-
quate quantity of education. It alone has full authority and command
over the requisite materials for such an object, it alone is entitled ta
put the necessary machinery into operation by which such an end may
be accomplished. But, if the State is not doing its duty in this mat-
ter, the church may expostulate in every lawful way, lifting a decided
testimrny against its supineness, its indolence, its apathy, and urg-
ing it to renewed activity. This the church is bound to do. She
ought to make it her duty diligently to inquire, whether the amount
of school accommodation is suflTicient, and whether the furniture,
apparatus, &c., are of the right description ; and should she dis-
cover that there are gi-ievous deficiencies, on the one hand, or plain
and flagran* inconveniences, on the other, she should calmly and firmly
expose this condition of things, remonstrate against it in the proper
(Quarter, and continue sounding hor protest till the cure is effected.

2. But, more especially, it is the duty of the church to see that
the education given is of the proper sort. If it is the appropriate
function of the State to attend to the matter of quantity, it is not less
that of the churcl'. to attend to that of (piality. This is tlie grand
business of the chiu'ch, her high and holy commission. What is she
but the great teacher, — " go and disciple, that is, teach all nations."
And who or what party better qualified to judge of the nature of the
education required in certain given circumstances, what party better
able to decide, whether that education is actually given, what party,
whose voice should be heard with equal authority ? It is the special
province of the church to see that the instruction given be sound —
sound, intellectually, in adaptation to the circumstances of the recipi-

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597

ents, and presented in a way that imparts knowledge, and, at the same
time, disciplines the mind, — sonnd, morally, dniwn from the nnadnl-
terated fonntain of divine truth, from the law of the great legislator of
the universe. It hehoovas her to see that the instruction given is
catholic, that there is nothing denominational, that the burden of the
theology imparted is not so much the dogmatic as the preceptive and
hoitatory ; in short, the requirements of the decalogue, based on the
love of God and man. Furthermore, it behooves the church to see
that the education given is strictly practical, that in intellectual work,
there is the thorough training, and in the moral, the actual doing —
the habit-system, so ex^jres'^ly and unerpiivocally propounded in the
sacred scriptures ; and who will point out any system more accordant
with common sense or sound philosophy, every whit as applicable to
literary and scientific as to sacred subjects ? What a boon would the
church thus confer upon national education, how would it exalt, and
dignify, and refine the nation, what lustre confer on her own estate !
Not less useful might she be in representing the high qualifications
retjuisite for the officers in this branch of the public service, and in
ranking the teachers — male and female — among the benfactors and
benefactresses of the realm, in selecting the most valuable text-books,
calculated to diffuse a love and a taste for the true, a)id the good, and
the beautiful.

3. But we go a step further, and maintain, that the church is bound
to take steps to ascertain whether this education, both in point of
quantity and quality, is actually administered. We have said that the
instrumentality of the cliurch is mainly moral, but this in her hand, if
she uses it with anything like sound judgment, is all but omnipotent.
She may, and she ought to do much for the cause of education through
the medium of her office-bearers, and especially of the parents within
her pale. If Sabbath schools are now regarded as a standing institu-
tion by various bodies of professing Christians ; if, at their annual con-
ventions or assemblies, these schools engage their investigations and
deliberations, why should the week-day school be overlooked or
under-estimated ? Is not the latter, when properly conduct(!d, a
vastly more powerful agency for benefiting the rising generation ? If,
in the Sabbath school, you can only give religious instruction, and, in
the week-day school, you can impart both moral instruction and moral
education ; if the former is oftentimes neutralized or most jnaterially
damaged by the want or incfBciency of the latter, why should not
every section of the visible church take an equal interest in the week-
day as in the Sabbath-day school, why should not their statistics be as

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carefully examined aiifl superliitenclerl? All this, no donbt. implies
on the part of the olRce-bearers not only a lively interest in the com-
mon schools of the land, but regular periodical visitations, as well as
pains-taking effort to aid in their improvement. And how could
ministers of the gospel be more profitably employed, or be more like
the master they profess to serve ! How could they more extensively
subserve the highest interests of thoir own flock, or produce a more
healthful influenoe upon the community around ? But it is mainly
through the parents that the minister or church will operate upon the
educational interests of the risin<£ generation. Wo have oftentimes
referred to the family circle, as not only the type of, but the bast pre-
parative for, the Church and State. And to whom or to what party
has the All-wise disposer of the human family committed the carrying
out of the domestic arrangement? Unquestionably, to the church. It
is her bounden duty, her highest honour, to see that every parent quits
himself of his responsibility, both personal and relative. The parent
may delegate both his teaching and governing power, for so many
hours a day to a i)roxy, but he does not, he dares not abrogate, by one
whit, his obligation to his offspring. And here, again, the church
may, and ought to interpose, to judge whether the delegate is a prop-
erly qualified person, whether he actually discharges his duties aright ;
and to confer with the parents accordingly, warning and encouraging,
exhorting and entreating. This invests the church with deep respon-
sibility, with an all-glorious privilege. "Would that, throughout all
her borders, she fully sympathized and co-operated with the parent
and the State !

re(;apitulation of chapter.

The theme of this chapter is as delicate as it is important. The
church, whether in receipt of State endowments or not, has certain
functions to discharge in connection with the education of the rising
generation, more especially in the matter of quality, and yet it
behooves her to '>xercise the utmost care, that she make no unwar-
rantable encroachment on the province of the State. The safety
and utility of both the Church and the State, is for each faithfully
to do its own work, and then there will be little fear of the one
usurping or over-riding the marches of the other. The consignment
to the State of the matter of quantity and to the Church that of
quality, makes, we think, a sufficiently broad line of demarcation.
Let each walk in its own pathway, and not only will there be no

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599

interference, l)ut the great cause of popular education — a cause essen-
tial to the welfare of both Church and State, will flourish and prosper.
In almost all national educational eiiaotinents, there is provision made
for the visitation of all the accredited clergymen of the section ; all
such are not only invi*ed, but earnestly entreated to visit the schools
and to offer such suggestions as they deem advisable ; so that they not
only go with direct authority, but with the assurance that their sug-
gestions will be treated with becoming respect atid attention. It would
be well that every church availed herself of this opening and oppor-
tunity of usefulness, and urged both diligence and faithfulness upon
her ministers in this matter. We believe, in not a few instances, in
the neighbouring States, the ministers of religion retired from the
educational dej^artment, and left the laity to legislate and administer
as they thought fit, and hence the secular views, the low moral
standard that but too generally prevails, and which cannot but be pro-
ductive of the most deteriorating influence upon their otherwise admir-
able syst3m. So will it be in every case where the church either
retires from the field or is apathetic, or does not maiifully and fiiiih-
fully maintain the position in every State to which she is entitled,
and which the State, in most cases, is ready to accord to her.

CHAPTER III.

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NATIONAL SYSTEMS OF EDUCATION.
Meaning of National System. 1. What should a national system

E.MIJUACE — a. l')lSTI\CTIVE FEATURES OF SciIOOL, COLLEGE AND UNI-
VERSITY; 6. Difference between Schoolmaster and Puofessob.

Meaning. By a national system of education, we understand a
system that has received the legislative sanction of the nation, is
under ics control and administration, and intended for the benefit of
all within its confines. It differs widely, as already indicated, from a
system that has a reference to the mode of carrying on the teaching
process, as the monitorial, or the objective, or the training system. It
principally refers to the exterior arrangements, such as the division of
the country into suitable school sections, the erection of school-houses,
the support of the officials, and the provision requisite for the proper
quality.

What embraced in a National System. It is our calm and deliber-

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ato conviction that a national system of I'dncation, to bo complete
and pioditctivo of nil the bcncllts of which it is capal)h', siiould
emhraci! all the gradations, whetlier endowed in the same manner
or not; that is, it should einlnace, in so far as the educational
process is concerned, the school, the college and the university.
These institutions are distinct in their objects and their aims. Yet
all these departments, whether regarded in their inner or corres-
ponding outer processes, maintain an essential dependence, rise in
beautiful consecutive ordctr, from the lowest basis to the highest eleva-
tion, from the foundation to tlu; <'ope-stone of the educational fabric.
No State or I'rovincje can, therefore, be said to be complete in its
educational apparatus, without the establishment and vigorous opera-
tion of this threefold series, Tliis is an important thought, and did
oui' space admit, we might, with prollt, expatiato upon it at some
length, taking up each, seriatim, the school, the college and the
university, and discussing them in tlieir distinctive features, their rela-
tions and tluiir reciprocities.

a. Distinctive featntrs of Sc/iool, CoUer/e and University. In
reference to the School, we might show, for example, that its pri-
mary business is not so much to impart knowledge as to awaken a
demand for it, and to furnish the means of meeting that demand. If
tliere is no taste or relish for any one object, there will be no desire
for it, and by consecpicnce no exertion made for its possession. This
is the case with all t) e initiatory stages in the acijuisition of learning.
Some children may, by nature, be inspired with a stronger desire than
others to find out the causes or reasons of things ; but the early stages
in the attainment of knowledge, is, to all, accom})auied with a conside-
rable amount of toil, and but a slender share of enjoyment; and all
by reason of a lack of dem '' nn utter indiflerence as to tho thing
itself. Let the demand ' created, and slowly, yet surely, will

it become the most ' , and the most deliglitful of acquired

desires. It will ris . lor to every obstruction, and every succeed-

ing dilliculty bravely and manfully met, will but render this demand
all the more loud and imperative. But wlnit availeth all this tliirst
for knowledge, unless the young are provided with the means of grati-
fying it ; and to impart this is another high function of the school-
room. The means essential for the acquisition of knowledge are
either direct or indirect. Of the former, the senses are the most
important. The organs of seeing and hearing ought, therefore, to be
cultivated in all the initiatory departments of lerrning ; the latter, as
a sedative in the securing and preserving of order as well as a stiaiu-

ART OF EDUCATION.

001

lant to intellectual vigour ; the former, as not only of great i»ractical
utility in the whole range of n'sthetics, but of paramount inipcn'tance
in the analytical processes of the higher exercises of mind. l>iit our
own powt!rs of observation are, at besf, exceedingly limited ; and,
therefore, for the augnientatioM of our stock of knowledge!, we are
greatly dependent on the observation of others. And what are tho
means by which wo obtain access to their accumulated treasures ?
They are just the branchcb of a common school education. The
letters of the alphabet, numcirical figures, and algebraical symbols are
the marks by which language is made visible. Facility in reading
and writing, then, amounts only to the means of intellig«Mit intercourse
with other minds. They are but the tools, which science uses. Wo
employ them as the means of getting a knowledge! which otherwise
would be entirely beyond our reach. But enough. The school in the
educational series has its own peculiar work, which, if neglected, can-
not be done elsewhere, or, at least, can be done very imperfectly. It
not only constitutes the substratum upon which tho whole rests, it
deeply and universally affects the superstructure reared upon it. If
there is a ilaw or imperfection here, it will carry its baneful iiilluenco
into the college and university, nay, into every pursuit and em))loyment
of life, and largely militate against the future progressive career of the
parties involved. You may try to supplement their defects, by what
are styled preparatory or collogiato schools, but unless these schools
are conducted, not on the plan of the college, which they generally
are, but on the plan of the school, they will serve no useful jjurpose.
Then, again, in reference to the College, we might show that this
word means, in its more general acceptation, a collection, an assem-
blage or a society of men, invested with certain powers and rights,
performing certain duties, or engaged in some common employment or
pursuit. In a more restricted sense, and as a branch in the educa-
tional series, it means a high seminary of learning, either in literature,
pbilosojiby or science, in the world of matter or of mind, in things
human or divine. It is generally employed to characterize wh?,t is
designated a Faculty of Arts, and comprehends the following subjects
with their professorial chairs, requiring four or five terms to com-
plete the course, and covering a period of not less than three years : —

1. The higher departments of Latin and Greek, and Mathematics ;

2. Logic and Metaphysics, or Intellectual Philosophy ; 3. Rhetoric
and Belles Lettres, with history of English literature ; 4. Moral
riiilosophy and Political Economy; 5. Natural Philosophy. Tho
object of the college is to impart the highest and the best knowledge

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on any one specific branch, and implies that the students in attendance
becomo thoroughly familiar >' ith all its facts or phenomena, their
causes and laws, the methods of investigation and combination, the
analytical and synthetical processes. Thus, there is a wide and radi-
cal diiference between the school in its highest stage and the collegiate
institution ; and yet they stand in close relation, so much so that the
full benelit cannot be drived from the latter, unless the former has done
its part, and done it right well. The iirst grand aim and object of
tlie college, is to convey to the student the accumulated stock of know-
ledge on any one given subject in the walks of literature, philosophy
or science ; but how could this be ' "ected without our being provided,
through the medium of the school, with the means of getting at that
knowledge, the prelections of the professor going little beyond the
great leading outlines, and merely pointing out the sources whence
the minute details are to be derived ? Another object of the college is
to investigate phenomena in some one department of nature or ot art,
to seize upon their laws or principles, and to trace them through all
their diversified relations, both to the world without and the world
within, so as to be properly e(juipped for the high platform of general-
ization ; and yet how could all this be achieved with any measure of
success, save by the training in methods and arrangement, which the
students have received by their passing through a course of sound
elementary education at school ? In one word, the college is designed,
and eminently qualified, to satisfy the thirst for knowledge in any one
department ; the school, to awaken the thirst.

Lastly, as to the University, we might show that this term in some
countries is of extensive signification, comprehending all the public
schools and seminaries of learning, from the most initiatory to (he
highest and most distinguished college, though in Great Britain it has
received a more limited application, denoting an assemblage of colleges,
or an aggregate of advanced seminaries. Universities were originally
intended to prepare and qualify for the learned professions, but in
modern times, they have considerably extended their sphere of opera-
tion ; and been made to comprehend professorial chairs or lectureships
for expounding the science of the practical or economic pursuits of
life. Accordingly, a well-equipped university, whether under the
same roof or in separate colleges afliliated, consists of four distinct
fi'C'aities — Arts, Medicine, Law and Divinity, with the additional
classes just referred to, sometimes designated special courses.

The Faculty of Arts has been already noticed. The Medical
Faculty is more or less complete according to circumstances. If, of

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ART OF EDUCATION.

603

any repute, it has seldom less than six or eight distinct classes, pre-
sided over by separate professors, who, besides the general knowledge
of their profession, have had their attention specially called, both by
inclination and external circumstances, to some one department, and
who ha\e, in consequence, signalized themselves therein. The Medical
Faculty of McGill University, Montreal, one of the most celebrated
in tho British colonies, if not on the whole continent, has the following
distinct classes, with tlieir professors for each : — 1. Anatomy ; 2. Chem-
istry ; 3. Materia Medica ; 4. Institutes of Medicine ; o. Practice of
Medicine; G. Surgery; 7. Midwifery; 8. Medical jurisprudence;
9. Clinical lectures ; 1 0. Clinical surgery, with one course of
Botany and Zoology. All these classes the candidates for an M. D.
are reijulred to attend.

The Law Faculty is generally composed of a staff of three or four
professors ; one, for public or constitutional law, another, for the law of
contracts, a third, for tho law of real estate, and a fourth, for civil law*

The Theological Faculty, both before and after the reformation,
was considered the most important of the whole. Indeed, but for the
training of a native ministry for supplying the Christian pulpits of the
land, the majority of these universities never would have been origi-
nated, and it was only in so far as they served this purpose that they
flourished and were perpetuated. In countries where there is no
established form of religion, this flxculty, as a matter of course, does
not, and cannot, exist. In such circumstances, each branch of the
Christian church is bound to support its own Theological seminary.
In every well-furnished seminary of this description, there are, gene-
rally, five or six professors : — 1. Systematic Theology; 2. Ilermeneu-
tics or Biblical Critidsm ; 3. Ecclesiastical History ; 4. Greek,
Hebrew and Oriental Literature ; 5. Pastoral Theology. In addition
to these faculties, which go to make up every well-equipped university,
special courses, as we have just hinted, have been recently introduced,
intended to impart a knowledge of the principles involved in the
various economic and industrial arts, such as agriculture, engineering,
navigation, surveying, commerce, and, as intimately connected with
some of those, modern languages, which cannot fail to pi-ove of great
practical utility, and to render those mstitutions, nationally, vastly
more serviceable. Such is a brief sketch of a well-equipped university,
whether it consists of one building or of a number of separate colleges,
all associated together for the furtherance of one great object, and,
with the exception of the theological department, such a university
we hold to be at once tho duty and tho interest of every State or

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Province to found, patronize and support to the utmost of its ability ;
and that, for the following, amon<^ other reasons : — 1. Because it will
exert a beneficial influence on all the other educational institutions of
the land. 2. On all the learned professions. 3. On the whole
economic welfare of a country.

b. Difference between a Schoolmaster and Professor. And if
this difference and dependence characterize the aims and objects of
the school and college, they affect, materially, the qualifications of
the living agents, respectively, who preside over them, namely, the
teacher and the professor. The attainments and qualifications requir-
ed, by tlie former, are general ; those, in the laf^er, specific. The
professor ought to be facile princeps in his own department, not
merely because he has devoted a great portion of his time and energies
to its study and the study of its cognate branches, but because ho
possesses a natural inclination, a decided bias for its prosecution.
The schoolmaster, on the other hand, with fair general scholarsliip,
ought to be theoretically and practically a borough proficient in all
that ap2)ertains to method, involving an extensive knowledge of
psychology on the one hand, and the modes of operating on the
human mind for the production of certain results, on the other. In
one word, the teacher has mainly to do with the art of communicating
knowledge, the jn-ofessor with the amount communicated ; the one
has to awaken a general spirit of enquiry, to stir mind at large ; the
other has to beget an enthusiasm for the subject under consideration,
and to put those engaged on the right road ot prosecuting the investi-
gation for themselves.

But we cannot enlarge on these topics. We have surely said
enough to satisfy every uuprejudiced mind as to what ought to con-
stitute a complete national education. If the educational process
itself embraces the school, the college and the university, if these all
benefit one another as the members of one grand series, acting and
reacting the one upon the other, and conducting to one common result,
then it is clear that if nations look to their own interest, they ought
to provide for more than a mere elementary system of education, even
a college and university, or, if need be, a number of them. Then, and
not till then, will the school receive justice at the hand of the nation.

RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.

"We have sketched the outline of a u-vtionil system. There are
few, indeed, that approximate in completeness to the plan we have

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ART OF EDUCATION.

605

ic are
have

just given. Many seem to consider tlio most elementary instruction
as constituting a national system, and would regard the encouragement
and endowment of grammar schools and gymnasia, and far more of
colleges or universities, as little else than a waste expenditure of
public revenue, for the purpose of saving the rich, who are perfectly
competent to provide an advanced education for their children. What-
ever bo the source ot the endowment of these collegiate institutions,
whether it ilow from the liberality of private individuals or the gene-
ral revenues of the State, this docs not, and ought not to affect the
natioiuxl character of these institutions, as the grand terminal link in
the educational series. Let the endowment come from whatever
quarter it may, what we plead and contend for is, the non-isolation of
these colleges, their constituting part and parcel of the national
system, that their power and influence may be felt in regulating and
stimulating all the subordinate seminaries, from the primary schools
aud upwards. It is the educational relation that we mainly look at
and insist upon. Colleges and universities are of inestimable value
in themselves, in the benefits they bestow upon the body politic, upon
the whole economic pursuits of life, upon the employments of the
humblest artizan ; but what is all this in comparison to their relation to,
and in tl; ir influence on all the links of the educational chain, from the
lowest extremity and upwards. Surely, it does not need here to be
stated that the collegiate institutions, forming part of the national sys-
tem, are entirely free of denominationalism, are purely catholic, are
intended for the promotion of literature, of philosophy, and of science,
and whilst they are all conducted upon the broad basis of our common
Christianity, they repudiate out and out the introduction of anything
savouring of denominationalism. The dcvotement of any part of th(^
public funds of any professedly Christian nation, for the support of
seminaries within its confines, that ha\o for their object the training of
a native ministry for the various branches of the Christian church, is
not oidy latitudinarian, but infidel in essence; and if that nation
upholds a national system of education is a stultification of its own
course of procedure, is an act of the mosc eggregious, the most flagrant
inconsistency. It is the province of the legislature of every country
to make i)rovision for a college of the faculty of arts, and if it will, to
alTdiate therewith both a legal and medical facidty. It is the province
of every denomination of the Christian church, to make provision for
the support of a theological faculty, for the training of a native minis-
try for these denominations respectively.

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CHAPTER IV.

SUPPOHT OF NATIONAL EDUCATION.
Sect. 1. — Various modus of scpport. Sect, 2. — Different ways or

LEVYIXa DIRECT TAXATION.

Section I.

National systems of education do not at all imply a similarity in
their mode of support. It is undoubtedly one of the most important
functions of the State to provide for the adequate support of the
system it adopts, but as to the nature, or extent, or way of raising
that support, there is no fixed or definite universal arrangement.
Every State has its own plan of operation in adaptation to the exter-
nal circumstances in which it may be placed, or to its past history in
connection with this branch of the public service. Some possess largo
endowments in the shape of legacies, which they hold in trust for
common or specific educational objects. Other nations, again, are all
but entirely dependent for the support of their educational system on
the means aimually provided by the legislature. The ordinary plan
is to appropriate a certain amount of the general revenues of the
country towards this object, and to make provision, by legislative
enactment, for the supply of the deficiency, by local effort. This may
be done in a great variety of ways, either by taxation, or sul)Scription,
or school fees, or rate bills. And hers the question arises, which is
the preferable mode ? Some, perhaps, will reply, that it is a matter
of absolute indifference, provided the adequate amount is realized, that
it is the sum, and not the mode pursued in raising it, that is to be
looked at. We happen to regard the matter in an entirely different
light. Whilst we would not undervalue the amount raised, we consid-
er the way in which it is done to be of vital moment ; and, especially,
as this is one of the means by which the inhabitants of any country
can be aroused to just, and adequate, and interested views on the
whole subject of education. It is right for the nation to concoci mea-
sures, and to pass legislative enactments for the purpose of raising the
sum requisite for the support of the same ; but it is a notorious fact,
that though we are living in the nineteenth century of the Christian
era, there are nations, the inhabitants of which are in a state of utter
supineuess, if not of deaduess, in reference to the whole cause of edu-
cation, not only callous in its promotion, but altogether destitute of a
knowledge of the relations subsisting between education and a nation's

ART OP EDUCATION.

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prosperity and happiness ; and the question that here presses itself
npon our attention is, whether something cannot be done in the matter
of legislation by which such lethargy may be dissipated, and a proper
appreciation of education instilled into the minds of the people at
large ? We have no hesitation in declaring that much may, and much
ought to be done by statesmen and patriots in this matter, and, as
already hinted, in nothing can this be more effectively or extensively
done than by the mode in which the necessary support is raised, even
by assessment.

Many arguments might be adduced in favour of this position — of
direct and immediate taxation for the support of education. We
might, for example, show, in the first place, that this system of support,
which exalts education to be the birthright of every child of the
realm, is at once the best and the cheapest. 2. That it dissipates
with one stroke every vestige of excuse, both -T non-attendance
and irregulai'ity of attendance on the score of poverty, thereby
dignifying and ennobling mind, by th^" "emoval of every inequality
or obstruction in the way of its culture or refinement. 3. That
this mode of support is most entirely in accordance with the great
principles and ends of civil government. 4. That it exhibits, in
bold relief, a portraiture of the golden rule of benevolence that signal-
izes and adorns the whole genius of Christianity — that we ought to
dispense our property for the good of others, not according to what
we have not, but according to what we have, — " Every one shall give
as he is able, according to the ability wherewith the Lord hath pros-
pered him, that there be an eijuality." 5. That it hath left an impress
npon the State that originally adopted it, by which it stands forth not
only foremost amongst the other nations of the earth for intelligence,
industry and morality, but foremost amongst the other States of that
union, of which it forms a part. 6. And that all the objections usually
brought against this mode, such as the injustice of building school-
houses and upholding the cause of education, when we have no chil-
dren under our roof to participate in the boon, may, with equal effect,
be bt-ought against every other species of taxation, plainly and {)alpa-
bly arising from the necessities of the social compact.

But all these arguments, however plain and forcible, and however
much they commend themselves to the approbation of the reflective,
dwindle, in our estimation, into utter insignificance in comparison to
the one to which reference has been made, viz., the great power that
this mode of support possesses in awakening and arousing com-
munities and nations steeped in indifference and apathy, to something

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like an adequate sense of the value of a universal education, enlisting
tlicir synipatliies, and calling forth their co-operation and zeal. And
all this it effectuates, ohvioudly, by the direct appeals it makes to the
selfishness of our nature. Need we wait here to depict the selfishness
of humanity, or the mastery it exerts over all the other powers, and
principles, and sensibilities ? And where are we to look for the em-
bodiment, the incarnation, so to speak, of this power? Where, but to
a man's projierty, his possessions, his means, his wealth, his purse, his
pocket. Tliis is the mainspring of all his other thoughts and desires, of
all his words and acts. This is the object of objects ; the subject of sub-
jects. This is the mainspring that sots and keeps in motion the whole
machinery of man's complicated nature. Touch any part of this,
however insignificant, and you touch a cord that will thrill and reverb-
erate throughout the whole system, even to the utmost exti'cmities,
that will rouse into life and activity the most latent springs, opening
uyi fountains in the wilderness, and converting dry lands into pools of
water. Compel a man who has amassed his hundreds of thousands,
to pay, by the law of the land, his fifty dollars towards the erection
of the new school-house in his section, or his twenty dollars annually
towards the remuneration of the teacher, and that very individual,
heretofore unaccustomed to the very sound of the word education,
now becomes all alive to its importance. He minutely examines the
work of the tradesman in the erection ot schools ; he takes care that a
pro2)er and competent teacher is appointed ; and, above all, he em})loys
every possible means to secure the regular attendance of all the chil-
dren within the confines of his section. Such we hold to be the
natural and legitimate effect of direct and immediate taxation on the
community at large, in sii2)port of education. It may not be product-
ive of all these beneficial results at once, but it will gradually leaven
the minds of the intelligent and best conditioned, call forth their
energy and zeal, invest them with a personal identification in all that
transjtires on the subject, and lead them to watch, with the most
vigilant eye, every step that is taken in educational matters.

Section' II.

But we cannot continue this strain of observation farther. It
were more to our purpose, did we here briefly advert to the way in
which such a measure, in adaptation to our external circumstances,
and, with great general advantage, should be carried into eflfect. It
is well known to many of our readers that the first intimation we have
of this system, the great principle of which is, — that the property of all

ART OF EDUCATIOX.

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shall be taxed by the majority for the education of all — is on the
records of the city of Boston for the year 1G35, within five years after
the landing of the pilgrim fathers on the Massachusett's shores, when
it was determined, at a pul)lic meeting, that a Kchoolmaster be
appointed for the teaching and nurturing of the children, and a
portion of the public lands given him for support. In a few years
afterwards, in 1647, the Collected Association of Massachusetts made
provision by law, that every town where thc'^ were one huadred
families, should keep a school, where youth should be prepared in
Latin, Greek and Mathematics, for the college or university, which,
in 1G38, had been established by the same authority at Cambridge.
Thus it is clear that the whole sum required for the support of
education was at that time raised by direct taxation. Now, though we
believe, that it would prove in every way advantageous to the cause of
education, and to the country at large, were the same course pursued
yet there is no nation, as far as we know, that has done so in the adop-
tion of the free system ; — this has always been with certain modifications.
The province of Ontario, for example, makes an offer of a certain
amount to every county or municipality, on condition of its raising an
equivalent by assessment, which being done, all the schools are declared
free. In the province of Nova Scotia three parties or constituencies
are recognized ; the province at large, the county, and the section. The
province, out of its general revenue, gives a certain amount to oach
teacher, according to the class of certificate held ; the county raises by
taxation, at the rate of thirty cents per head, which is distributed
amongst the teacners according to the average attendance of scholars,
and the deficiency is made up by the section, only by assessment.
The following is the plan we proposed years ago ; — a third, to be paid
by the province, another third, by the county, and the other, by the
section — the section being allowed to raise the amount in whatever
way the inhabitants may deem advisable, — a guarantee, of course, being
given or its being raised before the other two-thirds could be drawn
from the treasui'y or county. "We refer to this matter here for the
purpose of showing that the free system may be carried into effect in
various ways, and in adaptation to all external circumstances. We
believe, too, that something may and ought to be done, by which, in
perfect consonance with tho free system, a closer relation shall be
established between the parents of the section and the teacher. This,
in our view, would impart tenfold force and lustre to the whole scheme,
and render it all the more accordant with the findings of nature and
the teachings of inspiration, as well as more acceptable to the people.

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RECAPITULATION OF CHAPTER.

This is, perhaps, the most interesting and important topic belonging
to the Exterior of education. We have studied and canvassed it in
all its aspects and bearings ; we have examined and compared the
vaiious plans, with their modifications, pursued both in the old and
ne\\ world ; and it is to us only matter of regret that we have been
obliged to confine ourselves to a few general observations on the
flui)erior claims of direct taxation, and on the ways in which this assess-
ment principle is usually levied.

This has an extensive range. It is something more than a mat-
ter of pounds, shillings and pence ; — something more than an attempt
to ascertain the cost of the education of every child in a national
system ; — something more than the realization of the amount necessary
for the maintenance of this branch of the public service. It involves,
and that very largely, the position and respectability of the teacher ;
it affects, — and that most deeply, — at once the quantity and quality
of a national education, and it is, when regarded in these aspects, tliat it-
is invested with a magnitude and importance, far surpassing every other
consideration. But it is, especially when looked at in the last aspect, as
aftVcting the quality of education, that it rises to its highest platform —
its real point of elevation, evincing the sagacity, the self-denial, and the
philanthropy of the pilgrim fathers, when they conceived the mag-
nificent idea of a free and universal education for the people. How
forcibly is the conduct of these devoted men thus delineated in one
of the reports of the Secretary of the Massachusetts Board of
Education : — " Two divine ideas filled their great hearts, — their duty
to God and to posterity. For the one they built the church, for the
other they opened the school. Religion and knowledge I — two attri-
butes of the same glorious and eternal truth, — and that truth the only
one on which immortal or mortal happiness can be securely fouiided."

CHAPTER V.

','f^

SUPERVISION OF NATIONAL SYSTEMS OF EDUCATION,

1. Central Boird with Soperintendent op Education. 2. Coun :'y oe
District Commissioners with Local Inspector. 3. Trustees oe
Managers of Section with Secretary.

The proper supervision of every branch of the pullic service is ot
primary import.''.uce. The bianch itself may be in highest equipmrat,

AUT OF EDUCATION.

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lis ol
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in admirable adjustment; tlio organization may he as complete as the
circumstances will admit of, and the olhcers universally allowed to be
perfectly competent for their respective situations ; but unless there
be an experienced and ever vigilant superintendence, the whole
department may prove a camparativc failure, or, at least, lie anything
but efficient in its operations. And all this is as much the case with
education as with any other branch or departraeut of the public
service. And the first point that should here engage attention, and
be well weighed, is that of centralization, or the business devolving on
the central presiding agency and that of the various subordinate com-
mittees scattered over the country, and intended to carry out, in the
different localities, the will and the instructions of the central power.
Whatever may be the jealousies or suspicions that may be generated,
if uniformity is to obtain, centralization is indispensable ; in other
words, the first thing to be done in carrying out a national system
of education, is the appointment and constitution of a Central Board
or Counci' of Public Instruction, of which Council the Superin-
tendent of Education ought to be ex officio a member, and act in the
capacity of Secretary. On this Board devolves the whole manage-
ment of the educational interests of the country, from the common
school to the university ; it possesses and directs all the endowments,
and expends all the monoy that has been or may be granted in sup-
port of the national seminaries ; it makes and alters, from time to time,
with consent of the Governor and Council, any statutes, rules and
regulations that may be deemed necessary for the government and
discipline of the same ; it appoints and removes, from time to time,
teachers and professors, and other officers ; it prescribes and fixes tb.eir
duty, their qualifications and remuneration ; it makes or alters, as may
be deemed necessary, from time to time, any statutes or regulations
touching the granting of certificates to common school or academic
teachers, the course of study pursued by the same, the establishment
of scholarships in the university or in all the affiliated colleges, the
examination for matriculation, degrees, scholarships, &c.

The necissity of this Board no one calls in question. The
whole dispute here has been about its composition, and that has
mainly turned upon the point, whether it should be political or non-
political. Accordingly, the greatest diversity prevails amongst the
nations of the eartii in reference to this matter, some pursuing one
course, and others another. Those nations that maintain that educa-
tion ought to constitute one of the departmental offices of the State,
are either provided with a Minister of Pub':-'^ Instruction, charged

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with tills work, who generally has associated with him a few of the
supporters or members of the government, whose advice he takes on
every special and trying occasion ; or, it n\ay be, the executive consti-
tute the Council of Public Instruction, in which caso, the leader of the
government generally assumes the responsibility connected with the
actings of the Board. Those nations, again, that maintain that
education should be entirely removed from the arena of party politics,
that it is too sacred a subject to be tossed about upon the platform of
l)olitical partisanship, have, generally speaking, a Council of Public
Instruction, distinguished for their enlightened educational zeal, what-
ever m."y be their political creed, and those selected from the loading
denominations of professing Christians in the nation. The view;i and
the opinions of this Board on any important educational matter, are
presented to the country through the medium of the government of
the day. Though in decidin<r a matter such as this there mav be
specialities or peculiarities in the condition of the nation, political or
educational, which for a time may determine the adoption of the
former line of procedure, yet, as a general rule, and in ordinary cir-
cumstances, we have no hesitation in avowing our adhesion to the
latter view, and declaring our preference for the preservation of educa-
tion, as far as it is practicable, free from party politics, and in making
provision accordingly. This view, or preference, arises mainly from
the nature of education itself. If there is one feature or law in
education more conspicuously displayed, more prominently exhibited
than any other, it h that of progression or the law of advancement.
This enters into its very essence, both theoretical and practical,
demanding at once a safe and solid foundation, and a continuous and
consecutive uprearing. And how can this be effected, if there are
changes in the educational, as frequent and as radical as are presented
to us in the political world ? By such changes an arrestment or
impediment m'ly be imposed, by which the leading wheel may go
backward instead of forward, may retrograde rather than progress.
The polity of the retiring government in educational matters, may be
perfectly distinct from that which has succeeded, and thus the whole
interests of this important branch of the public service may be staid
or subverted for years, thereby destroying both the advancement of
sound theoretical views, or working out any universal i)ractical
improvement.

But, whatever be the constitution of this Council, all will be of
comparatively little value, unless there is an efficient officer in the
capacity of Superintendent of Education, to see that all its judgment*

ART OP EDUCATION.

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Us.
be

of
the

are to the very letter carried out. More particuhirly, It is his duty to
see, that all the provisions of the acts on education, aiuVall reijulations
re;:f!irding Universities. Normal, Common and Grammar schools are
duly executed; to visit Grammar schools or Academies as often as
practicable; to ascertain that all the Inspectors of schools do their
duty; to prepare and lay before the Council such regulations, regard-
ing the grades in the series of education, as he shall judge expedient
and advisable ; to prei)are and transmit all correspondence which shall
be recpu'sted or authorized by the Council ; to have the immediate
care, management and payment of all money ; to endeavour to provide
for and recommend the use of uniform and approved text-books ; to
prepare suitabi lorms, and to give such instructions as he shall deem
necessary and proper for nuvking all reports ; to decide upon all mat-
ters of complaints that may be submitted to him by any i)erson that
may be interested in Grammar or Common schools ; to apportion
whatever suras of money that shall be granted by the legislature for
the support of school libraries, &c. ; to be res-jwusible for all moneys
paid tliiough him, and to give security for the same; to make to the
government and legislature a report of any national University,
Normal and Model schools, Grammar and Common schools through-
out the Pro'-incc, or country, &c.

The next matter is tlie constitution and appointment of local Boards
for the transaction of all local aft'airs in a national system of education.
The organization of these Boards will naturally depend, in a great
measure, upon the already existent civil arrangements. Whether the
various counties, or shires, or divisions have yet been subdividcMl into
regular municipal corporations, or whether these only extend to towns
and cities ; all this will give shape and form the most convenient
arrangements for the educational Boards. J'wo or three counties
ought to be combined as a field of operation for a local Inspector,
appointed by the county or municipal Boards, on the recommendation
of the Siiperinte:ulent of Education. Whatever may be the opinion
of some in reference to these intermediate Boards, there cannot be a
doubt that an efficient body of Inspectors would add largely to their
usefulness, would turn to profitable account their operations. There
is, perhaps, no office of greater importance in the furtherance of
national education than that of Inspector, whose duty is now generally
understood to extend to the following matters.' — 1. To see that the
whole spirit and letter of the law are rigorously -.urried out in the
district or counties committed to them. 2. To stir up the inhabitants,
generally, in the cause of education, by the delivery of lectures, circu-

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latioii of tracts or pamphlL'ts, &c. .'5. To socuro tlio best ami most
suitable teacher.s I'or the locality. 4. To vi.sit the .schools, periodically,
and both by the Htated teachers exaiuiiiation and his own, thoroughly
to test the scholars on their technical knowledge and general intelli-
gence. 5. To examine, closely, the various registers ; and, lastly, to
write out a rejwrt on the condition of the school, to bo forwarded to
the trustees for the inspection of any party or parties living in the
Bection. This ollice demands the highest (jualilications, both profes-
sional ?\nd literary, and should be amply remunerate<l.

The third and last lioard, or committee of management, is that
which presides over a school section, generally elected annually by all
rate-payers, to I'opresent them in carrying on all the negotiations
connected with educational matters duiing the course of the year.
The division of the territory into sections, the ai)pointment of elHcient
trustees, and the faithful discharge of their various duties in kee[)ing
alive the cause of education, through the assistance of the teacher, and
otherwise, lie at the very foundation of the whole luilion's education,
without which no decided ])i'ogres3 can be made. Much here, again,
depends on the etriciency of tlie secretary of these trustees, who should
possess the requisite qualifications for liis ofiice, and be well remu-
nerated. The duties of these trustees need scarcely be enumerated.
They involve all mutters connected with the engawment and labours
of the teacher — all the exterior arrangements for the comfortable
accommodation of the pui)ils, and the arousing of the people generally
to an interest in the subject.

KECAPITULATION (^F CILVnT.R.

In the preceding chapter, we have merely indicated the various
topics wortiiy of consideration in the matter of supervision. The
whole of that work depends on two classes of agents, the one gratuit-
ous and the other paid. It is hard in a young colony to obtain the
qualified individuals to constitute these Boards, and when they are to
be found, they generally regard time as their capital and husband it
for the promotion of their temporal aggrandizement. When we
visited the New England States for the tirst time, nothing arrested
our attention more, or drew forth greater admiration, than to tind so
many highly educated gentlemen, merchants, bankers and professional
men, devoting so much of their time and energies to the cause of
education. This was refreshing indeed. Such individuals in these
colonies are few and far between ; they require to be trained ; but

ART OF nnUCATION.

r.io

uiKjuostionably tlicy arc in pro^iross, and oiif;ht to bo educated and
encoiira<j('d. "Nothiiifr would do this more extensively, than to hold
U|) prouiiiiontly hoforo tlufir mind's eye the supremo value of t'd'i-
cation, in the promotion of their personal and social prosperity alike
in Church and State. Another thincf that will go far to render
the lahours of these men more useful and elReient, is th(^ pecuniary
rennmeration made to the paid ai,'eiits. It is now all l)ut universally
adinitt<Hl, that a paid agency is indisj)ensal)ly necessary, even for carry-
ing on any benevolent or evangelistic enterprise. And this is especi-
ally so in the carrying out of national systems of education. Snper-
inttuid(!nts and Inspectors should not oidy be paid, but paid well so
as to command the highest talent, the most extensive attainments,
and the utmost skill. No Superintendent of Education should liave
less than £i)00 sterling, per aiunmi, nor a well ((ualiiied Inspector,
who dedicates the whole of his time to his business, less than £.">00
sterling. This will j)rove the most economical way in the long run,
and reritln* the gratuitous labours of the central and local r>oards all
the more efficient and valuable.

CHAPTER VI.

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LEGISLATIVE ENACTMENTS.
1. Subjects of Legislation. 2. Order of Subjects.

The whole matter of legislation on national education, or of what
may be styled educational jurisprudence, is comparatively in its
infancy. Considerable strides have, no doubt, been made in this, as in
every other department of national education, during the last quarter
of a century or more. This has been the case in new countries,
and. especially, in the Western States of the American Republic,
and in some of the British Colonies, both East and West. In old
countries everything of an educational character is so completely
stereotyped, and there are such divisions into classes, parties and
creeds, that it is no easy matter to make any radical change on the
existing condition of thinjjs. For the truth of this remark we have
only to glance at the modern history of Great Britain and Ireland.
How many royal commissions, for example, have sat during the last
fifteen or twenty years to gather statistics and general information

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on the subject of education ! How many scliemes, by the leading
statesmen of the day, have been propounded and published! How
many Uills have been laid on the table of the Imperial I'arliament
and withdrawn ! In new countries, however, where all is buoyant
and elastic, no such obstructions lie in the way, and, accordingly, in
some of these, important educational laws have recently been passed
and great improvement effected upon those of older countries.

1. Subjects of Legislation. And here, it may be asked, what is the
first educational matter that ought to be considered in any legislative
measure ? In answering this question, it may be of advantage that we
refer to a distinction oftentimes made in tlie preceding pages — the dis-
tinction between the inner and outer processes of education — a distinc-
tion which, because it has not received the attention it is entitled to,
has led to many mistakes in legislative enactments, It has been again
and again stated that the former comprehends all those duties arising
from the I'elation subsisting l)etween the teacher and the taught ; such
as, the organization, the management and government of schools, the
branches taught, method of teaching them, &c. The latter, or the outer
processes, comprehend all those duties or functions that, properly speak-
ing, belong to the statesman or the legislator ; such as, the territorial
divisions, from the individual school or section up to the highest class,
the erection of school-houses, with all their appurtenances, including
apparatus, text-books, &c., the mode of support with its appropriations,
the (piali'ications of teachers, examinations for certificates, &c., the
different Boards, with their respective functions and their })aid agents.
These, properly speaking, fall under the cognizance of the legislature ;
these are the main points to be adjusted in an educational act. The
others, or the inner functions, will naturally fall to be given in the
shape of instructions by the different Boards, from the highest to the
lowest, witii their corresponding ofiicers, which instructions cannot be
too particular, or deal too much in detail. Here the Council of Public
Instruction, or presiding agency, must step forward and assume the
responsibilities, and functions, and obligations which belong to it.
Hero come in the power, and the skill, and the profound, yet delicate,
instrumentality of the Superintendent of P^ducation. Here is he
required to give forth the most enlightened and enlarged views of the
end of education, the means best calculated for subserving that end
with the functions of the subordinate Boards, and the duties of those
appointed to carry out their instructions. His infiuence, his zeal and
enthusiasm should pervade the whole machinery, not merely awaken-
ing every teacher to a sense of his responsibility, but moving and

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operating upon all the activities and sensibilities of every scholar. It is
exactly like that of the Field Marshal, on the day of battle, his instruc-
tions not only influencing every member of his staff, but every soldier,
even to the rawest recruit. This evinces the stupendous importance
of the office referred to, and shows, very impressively, that no means
should be spared to obtain the best qualified person to fill it, at what-
ever cost. A paltry economy, here, may lead to the wasteful expen-
diture of hundreds upon hundreds in other quarters. He must be a
man not only of great sagacity and discretion, of profound literary
attainments, of high professional skill and experience, but of marked
and signal administrative capabilities.

2. Order of Subjects. Two plans may be pursued in the arrange-
ment of the subjects in a legislative enactment. First, we may take
up the different subjects as they rise in their importance, beginning
with the territorial division of the Common school section, and pro-
ceeding as high as the Council of Public Instruction, or the presiding
agency. And, perhaps, there is no better order than the one indicated
in the preceding section, filling up, of course, all the intermediate
defects. The other plan that may be adopted, is to commence
with the central power and its paid official, the functions to be dis-
charged by that power, the appointment, the duties, &c., of the Super-
intendent ; then to descend throughout all the local Boards, till we
terminate with the lowest class of managers or trustees, with their
appointments, their offices and responsibilities. Or the whole of this
arrangement may be reversed. We may commence with the trustees,
the teacher and the people of the section, and proceed hi(;;'her a' 1
higher until we arrive at the central Board. This is the mode pur-
sued in some enactments, and though to some it may appear the
more logical, they cannot bring together the different parts in consecu-
tive order, or in their dependencies upon the higher functionaries-
"We give a decided preference to the order followed in the Nova
Scotia enactment. Here, the greatest care should be manifested
not to blend or confound the peculiar instructions of the Council of
Public Instruction, or the presiding committtee, in dealing with inner
work, and the points that appropriately belong to the legislature.

RECAPITULATION Oi JHArTER.

We have briefly adverted, in the preceding chapter, to the subjects,
and the order of legislative enactments on education. Though we have
drawn what we conceive a proper distinction in reference to the sub-

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u
i 1

jects of legislation, wo are far from maintaining that others may not be
introduced into school laws, or that the order pointed out is to be con-
sidered irreversible. Every wise statesman will, in concocting a legis-
lative measure upon education, naturally endeavour to secure, in as
far as these are attainable or practicable, two things, — first, the matter
of quantity, and second, that of quality. The points which will most
extensively secure the former, are the outer organization and the mode
of support. The three points that will most extensively secure the
latter, are, gradation, branches, and the qualifications of teacher. How
admirably are the legislative enactments of Prussia and many of the
German Principalities concocted with a view to these ends ! So is it
with many of the Cantons of Switzerland, and most of the New Eng-
land States. It might have been profitable to present, in tabular form,
a few of the provisions of national educational enactments us speci-
mens, such as those of Prussia, France, Switzerland, Scotland, Ireland,
Massachuset*';, New York, Ohio, the provinces of Ontario and Nova
Scotia, but our space will not now admit of it. And in winding up
the whole of the exterior of education, whilst one cannot help perceiv-
ing much that is excellent in those national systems, no reficctive
mind can fail to mark the great and >^'.'i°iVous defects which mar, less
or more, the working of them all, more especially, the want of a
thorough uniform inner system of physical, intellectual, emotional,
sesthetical and moral education, of a class of truly qualified teachers,
'i.nd of the due and legitimate recognition of the three parties of
authority and control, — the State, the Church, and the Parent. It were
vain to expect that national systems can produce those glorious results,
for which they are destinated, so long as these wants exist. Let phil-
anthropists, and statesmen, and educationists, and teachers labour on
in their high and benevolent undertaking. Let them retain their dis-
tinctive walk, whilst they mutually co-operate with one another in
the achievement of the same noble purpose; — and, especially, let this
be the case with the Scate, the Church, and the Parent : and soon,
very soon, will the benefits of a sound, wholesome, national education
be not mere matter of speculation, but of great living practical realiza-
tion — soon, very soon, will it be seen to constitute not merely the
main bulwark and fortification of all other benefits, but their highest
prosperity, and glory^ and bliss.

ART OF EDUCATION.

619

CONCLUSION.

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(lis-

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this
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lit ion

liza-

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lliest

We have now finished our work. The object of that work, as
stated in the preface, was to present a consecutive, compendious view
of the whole subject of education, of its inner and outer processes, as a
science and as an art ; and this for the purpose of furnishing a guide, a
directory, a Text-book to the teacher, as well as a book of general
reference to those interested in the cause of education. And this
object, whatever be the imperfections of the performance, we think, we
have accomplished.

Vie started with the conviction that there is in the Bible a great
principle, exemplified and illustrated by Ilim, in whom are hid all the
treasures of wisdom and knowledge, upon which the whole of a sound
and progressive education should be based and upreared, which princi-
ple is embodied in the two words, " Train up." "VVe believed, more-
over, that David Stow, sitting, as he did, a humble learner at the feet
of the Great Teacher of Nazareth, had discovered and unfolded many
admirable expedients, by which, in adaptation to the circumstances in
which he was placed, this principle was reduced to practice, nobly
vindicating and maintaining its position, as furnishing a sound and
broad basis for the educational platform, as universal as man, and as
deep as his capabilities. And yet, withal, there was a want of con-
nectedness, of elaboration, of development, and of exhaustiveness in
these expedients, which deprived them of a large amount of their
cementing power, of their wide-spreading influence, of their beneficial
results. We considered that something might, and something ought
to be done by which, in adaptation to the nature of the recipients,
these expedients might be reduced to a system, and applied to all the
branches and ramifications of an elementary and advanced education —
to education, whether conducted privately or nationally. This has
been our aim in the preceding discussions. We lay no claim to
perfectibility hero. But, whatever may be thought of the classification
we have adopted, we believe, that we have put that classification on a
basis that will set at defiance all opposition and assault, and that
sinijily because it is a natural basis — the basis of adaptation. If
the whole of the divine works derive their strength, lustre and utility
from being founded upon such a basis, there need be little appre-
hension of the validity of the ground we have taken, or of the fortifica-
tion we have raised being speedily defaced or dismantled.

620

teacher's text-book.

r 1

We now lay the whole, as an ofTcrinfj, at the feet of every devoted
and progressive educationist, beseeching him not to rest satisfied with
mere speculative notions about the principle or the expedients devised
for carrying the same into effect, but to prove and test the whole l)y
actual experiment, by the broadest practical application. There is a
striking reciprocity here, as in almost everything else, between the
principle and the practice, between the science and the art. The more
assiduously and diligently the latter is carried into operation, the
more vivid, and lucid, and influential will the former become ; and all
this, again, will but stimulate, and encourage, and facilitate the prac-
tical working Not a few are sufficiently eloquent on the matter of
the beauty and suitableness, and the glory of the principle, but who
manifest the utmost reluctance to try its power and reduce it to prac-
tice ; and that because of the supposed difficulty or drudgery. What
we specially desire, on the part of all earnest teachers, is the putting
of the principle into practice, whatever the difficulties or the acts of
self-denial to be encountered. All that is required is a commence-
ment. Every renewed effort will lessen the difHculty, and such will
be the satisfaction and delight arising from a nearer, because practical
inspection of the principle, that it will far more than compensate for
all the conflicts and sacrifices to which any one may have been sub-
jected in making the attempt. And when to all this is added one of
our subordinate principles, or rather, we should call it, one of our
common expedients, — we mean that of iteration and reiteration, even
until the intellectual faculty we desire to educate has been strengthened
and expanded, or until the moral sense has been trained into a habit
in any one department; and how transcendent and extensive will
be the result! The mind itself, the more it is cultivated, will shine
forth with more radiant lustre, the vast advantages of education
will be seen in their full zenith of perfection ; and what an impulse
should not all this give to the mightiest efforts of genius in this
particular walk ! What unflinching steadfastness and perseverance
should it not call forth in the accomplishment of yet more astounding
triumphs !

But there is another errand on which the enlightened and enthusi-
astic teacher must go, — even the leavening of the masses with a due
appreciation of a high-toned reflective education. There are but few
communities in any civilized or partially civilized country, who do not
see and acknowledge the benefit or the necessity of the etlucation of
all ; it is otherwise in reference to the kind of education or the quality
of what is given. This can only be done by a practical demonstration.

ART OF EDUCATIOX.

621

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