{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_31067/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_31067","id":"gutenberg_31067","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/31067","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Teaching & Education","Teaching"],"text":"Produced by Jonathan Ingram and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\nIN THE SCHOOL-ROOM.\n\nCHAPTERS IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF EDUCATION.\n\nJOHN S. HART, LL. D.,\n\nPRINCIPAL OF THE NEW JERSEY STATE NORMAL SCHOOL\n\n1868.\n\n\n  PHILADELPHIA:\n  ELDREDGE & BROTHER,\n  17 and 19 South Sixth Street.\n\n  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by\n  ELDREDGE & BROTHER,\n  in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States\n  for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.\n\n  J. FAGAN & SON\n  STEREOTYPE FOUNDERS,\n  PHILADELPHIA.\n\n  PRINTED BY SHERMAN & CO.\n\n\nTO THE Teachers of the United States, AND ESPECIALLY TO THE ALUMNI OF\nTHE PHILADELPHIA HIGH SCHOOL, AND OF THE New Jersey State Normal School\nTHE FOLLOWING CHAPTERS ARE MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe views contained in this volume are the result of a prolonged and\nsomewhat varied professional experience. This experience includes the\ntraining of more than five thousand young men and of nearly one thousand\nyoung women, a large portion of them for the office of teachers; and it\nhas been gained in College, in Boarding School, in a city High School,\nand in a State Normal School. In all this prolonged and varied\nexperience, I have constantly put myself in the attitude of a learner,\nand my aim in the present volume is to place before the younger members\nof the profession, in the briefest and clearest terms possible, the\nlessons I have myself learned. Beginning with the question, What is\nTeaching? and ending with the wider question, What is Education? the\nbook will be found to take a pretty free range over the whole field of\npractical inquiry among professional teachers. The thoughts presented\nare such as have been suggested to the writer in the school-room itself,\nwhile actively engaged either in teaching, or in superintending and\ndirecting the instruction given by others. These thoughts are for the\nmost part purposely given in short, detached chapters, each complete in\nitself. Such a method of presentation, though less imposing, seemed to\nhave practical advantages for the reader too great to be neglected for\nthe mere vanity of authorship. Often one can find leisure to read a\nchapter of five or six pages on some point complete in itself, when he\nmight not feel like reaching it through an intervening network of\nconnected and dependent propositions. At the same time, it should be\nobserved, the topics though detached are not isolated. There is\neverywhere an underlying thread of connection, the whole being based\nupon, if not constituting, a philosophy of education.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nI.        What is Teaching?\nII.       The Art of Questioning\nIII.      The Difference between Teaching and Training\nIV.       Modes of Hearing Recitations\nV.        On Observing a Proper Order in the Development of\n            the Mental Faculties\nVI.       Teaching Children what they do not Understand\nVII.      Cultivating the Memory in Youth\nVIII.     Knowledge before Memory\nIX.       Power of Words\nX.        The Study of Language\nXI.       Cultivating the Voice\nXII.      Eyes\nXIII.     Errors of the Cave\nXIV.      Men of One Idea\nXV.       A Talent for Teaching\nXVI.      Teaching Power\nXVII.     Growing\nXVIII.    Loving the Children\nXIX.      Gaining the Affections of the Scholars\nXX.       The Obedience of Children\nXXI.      Rarey as an Educator\nXXII.     A Boarding-School Experience\nXXIII.    Phrenology\nXXIV.     Normal Schools\nXXV.      Practice-Teaching\nXXVI.     Attention as a Mental Faculty, and as a Means of\n            Mental Culture\nXXVII.    Gaining the Attention\nXXVIII.   Counsels:\n            1. To a Young Teacher;\n            2. To a New Pupil;\n            3. To a Young Lady on leaving School;\n            4. To a Pupil on Entering a Normal School\nXXIX.     An Argument for Common Schools\nXXX.      What is Education?\n\n\n\n\nIN THE SCHOOL-ROOM.\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nWHAT IS TEACHING?\n\n\nIn the first place, teaching is not simply telling. A class may be told\na thing twenty times over, and yet not know it. Talking to a class is\nnot necessarily teaching. I have known many teachers who were brimful of\ninformation, and were good talkers, and who discoursed to their classes\nwith ready utterance a large part of the time allotted to instruction;\nyet an examination of their classes showed little advancement in\nknowledge.\n\nThere are several time-honored metaphors on this subject, which need to\nbe received with some grains of allowance, if we would get at an exact\nidea of what teaching is. Chiselling the rude marble into the finished\nstatue; giving the impression of the seal upon the soft wax; pouring\nwater into an empty vessel;--all these comparisons lack one essential\nelement of likeness. The mind is, indeed, in one sense, empty, and needs\nto be filled. It is yielding, and needs to be impressed. It is rude, and\nneeds polishing. But it is not, like the marble, the wax, or the vessel,\na passive recipient of external influences. It is itself a living\npower. It is acted upon only by stirring up its own activities. The\noperative upon mind, unlike the operative upon matter, must have the\nactive, voluntary co-operation of that upon which he works. The teacher\nis doing his work, only so far as he gets work from the scholar. The\nvery essence and root of the work are in the scholar, not in the\nteacher. No one, in fact, in an important sense, is taught at all,\nexcept so far as he is self-taught. The teacher may be useful, as an\nauxiliary, in causing this action on the part of the scholar. But the\none, indispensable, vital thing in all learning, is in the scholar\nhimself. The old Romans, in their word education (_educere_, to draw\nout), seem to have come nearer to the true idea than any other people\nhave done. The teacher is to draw out the resources of the pupil. Yet\neven this word comes short of the exact truth. The teacher must put in,\nas well as draw out. No process of mere pumping will draw out from a\nchild's mind knowledge which is not there. All the power of the Socratic\nmethod, could it be applied by Socrates himself, would be unavailing to\ndraw from a child's mind, by mere questioning, a knowledge, for\ninstance, of chemical affinity, of the solar system, of the temperature\nof the Gulf Stream, of the doctrine of the resurrection.\n\nWhat, then, is teaching?\n\nTeaching is causing any one to know. Now no one can be made to know a\nthing but by the act of his own powers. His own senses, his own memory,\nhis own powers of reason, perception, and judgment, must be exercised.\nThe function of the teacher is to bring about this exercise of the\npupil's faculties. The means to do this are infinite in variety. They\nshould be varied according to the wants and the character of the\nindividual to be taught. One needs to be told a thing; he learns most\nreadily by the ear. Another needs to use his eyes; he must see a thing,\neither in the book, or in nature. But neither eye nor ear, nor any other\nsense or faculty, will avail to the acquisition of knowledge, unless the\npower of attention is cultivated. Attention, then, is the first act or\npower of the mind that must be roused. It is the very foundation of all\nprogress in knowledge, and the means of awakening it constitute the\nfirst step in the educational art.\n\nWhen by any means, positive knowledge, facts, are once in possession of\nthe mind, something must next be done to prevent their slipping away.\nYou may tell a class the history of a certain event; or you may give\nthem a description of a certain place or person; or you may let them\nread it; and you may secure such a degree of attention, that, at the\ntime of the reading or the description, they shall have a fair,\nintelligible comprehension of what has been described or read. The facts\nare for the time actually in the possession of the mind. Now, if the\nmind was, according to the old notion, merely a vessel to be filled, the\nprocess would be complete. But mind is not an empty vessel. It is a\nliving essence, with powers and processes of its own. And experience\nshows us, that in the case of a class of undisciplined pupils, facts,\neven when fairly placed in the possession of the mind, often remain\nthere about as long as the shadow of a passing cloud remains upon the\nlandscape, and make about as much impression.\n\nThe teacher must seek, then, not only to get knowledge into the mind,\nbut to fix it there. In other words, the power of the memory must be\nstrengthened. Teaching, then, most truly, and in every stage of it, is a\nstrictly co-operative process. You cannot cause any one to know, by\nmerely pouring out stores of knowledge in his hearing, any more than you\ncan make his body grow by spreading the contents of your market-basket\nat his feet. You must rouse his power of attention, that he may lay hold\nof, and receive, and make his own, the knowledge you offer him. You must\nawaken and strengthen the power of memory within him, that he may retain\nwhat he receives, and thus grow in knowledge, as the body by a like\nprocess grows in strength and muscle. In other words, learning, so far\nas the mind of the learner is concerned, is a growth; and teaching, so\nfar as the teacher is concerned, is doing whatever is necessary to cause\nthat growth.\n\nLet us proceed a step farther in this matter.\n\nOne of the ancients observes that a lamp loses none of its own light by\nallowing another lamp to be lit from it. He uses the illustration to\nenforce the duty of liberality in imparting our knowledge to others.\nKnowledge, he says, unlike other treasures, is not diminished by giving.\n\nThe illustration fails to express the whole truth. This imparting of\nknowledge to others, not only does not impoverish the donor, but it\nactually increases his riches. _Docendo discimus._ By teaching we learn.\nA man grows in knowledge by the very act of communicating it. The reason\nfor this is obvious. In order to communicate to the mind of another a\nthought which is in our own mind, we must give to the thought definite\nshape and form. We must handle it, and pack it up for safe conveyance.\nThus the mere act of giving a thought expression in words, fixes it more\ndeeply in our own minds. Not only so; we can, in fact, very rarely be\nsaid to be in full possession of a thought ourselves, until by the\ntongue or the pen we have communicated it to somebody else. The\nexpression of it, in some form, seems necessary to give it, even in our\nown minds, a definite shape and a lasting impression. A man who devotes\nhimself to solitary reading and study, but never tries in any way to\ncommunicate his acquisitions to the world, or to enforce his opinions\nupon others, rarely becomes a learned man. A great many confused, dreamy\nideas, no doubt, float through the brain of such a man; but he has\nlittle exact and reliable knowledge. The truth is, there is a sort of\nindolent, listless absorption of intellectual food, that tends to\nidiocy. I knew a person once, a gentleman of wealth and leisure, who\nhaving no taste for social intercourse, and no material wants to be\nsupplied, which might have required the active exercise of his powers,\ngave himself up entirely to solitary reading, as a sort of luxurious\nself-indulgence. He shut himself up in his room, all day long, day after\nday, devouring one book after another, until he became almost idiotic by\nthe process, and he finally died of softening of the brain. Had he been\ncompelled to use his mental acquisitions in earning his bread, or had\nthe love of Christ constrained him to use them in the instruction of the\npoor and the ignorant, he might have become not only a useful, but a\nlearned man.\n\nWe see a beautiful illustration of this doctrine in the case of\nSabbath-school teachers, and one reason why persons so engaged usually\nlove their work, is the benefit which they find in it for themselves. I\nspeak here, not of the spiritual, but of the intellectual benefit. By\nthe process of teaching others, they are all the while learning. This\nadvantage in their case is all the greater, because it advances them in\na kind of knowledge in which, more than in any other kind of knowledge,\nmen are wont to become passive and stationary. In ordinary worldly\nknowledge, our necessities make us active. The intercourse of business,\nand of pleasure even, makes men keen. On these subjects we are all the\nwhile bandying thoughts to and fro; we are accustomed to give as well as\ntake; and so we keep our intellectual armor bright, and our thoughts\nwell defined. But in regard to growth in religious knowledge, we have a\ntendency to be mere passive recipients, like the young man just referred\nto. Sabbath after Sabbath we hear good, instructive, orthodox\ndiscourses, but there is no active putting forth of our own powers in\ngiving out what we thus take in, and so we never make it effectually our\nown. The absorbing process goes on, and yet we make no growth. The\nquiescent audience is a sort of exhausted receiver, into which the\nstream from the pulpit is perennially playing, but never making it full.\nLet a man go back and ask himself, What actual scriptural knowledge have\nI gained by the sermons of the last six months? What in fact do I retain\nin my mind, at this moment, of the sermons I heard only a month ago? So\nfar as the hearing of sermons is concerned, the Sabbath-school teacher\nmay perhaps be no better off than other hearers. But in regard to\ngeneral growth in religious knowledge, he advances more rapidly than his\nfellow-worshippers, because the exigencies of his class compel him to a\nstate of mind the very opposite of this passive recipiency. He is\nobliged to be all the while, not only learning, but putting his\nacquisitions into definite shape for use, and the very act of using\nthese acquisitions in teaching a class, fixes them in his own mind, and\nmakes them more surely his own.\n\nI have used this instance of the Sabbath-school teacher because it\nenforces an important hint already given, as to the mode of teaching.\nSome teachers, especially in Sabbath-schools, seem to be ambitious to do\na great deal of talking. The measure of their success, in their own\neyes, is their ability to keep up a continued stream of talk for the\ngreater part of the hour. This is of course better than the embarrassing\nsilence sometimes seen, where neither teacher nor scholar has anything\nto say. But at the best, it is only the pouring into the exhausted\nreceiver enacted over again. We can never be reminded too often, that\nthere is no teaching except so far as there is active cooperation on the\npart of the learner. The mind receiving must reproduce and give back\nwhat it gets. This is the indispensable condition of making any\nknowledge really our own. The very best teaching I have ever seen, has\nbeen where the teacher said comparatively little. The teacher was of\ncourse brimful of the subject. He could give the needed information at\nexactly the right point, and in the right quantity. But for every word\ngiven by the teacher, there were many words of answering reproduction\non the part of the scholars. Youthful minds under such tutelage grow\napace.\n\nIt is indeed a high and difficult achievement in the educational art, to\nget young persons thus to bring forth their thoughts freely for\nexamination and correction. A pleasant countenance and a gentle manner,\ninviting and inspiring confidence, have something to do with the matter.\nBut, whatever the means for accomplishing this end, the end itself is\nindispensable. The scholar's tongue must be unloosed, as well as the\nteacher's. The scholar's thoughts must be broached, as well as the\nteacher's. Indeed, the statement needs very little qualification or\nabatement, that a scholar has learned nothing from us except what he has\nexpressed to us again in words. The teacher who is accustomed to\nharangue his scholars with a continuous stream of words, no matter how\nfull of weighty meaning his words may be, is yet deceiving himself, if\nhe thinks that his scholars are materially benefited by his intellectual\nactivity, unless it is so guided as to awaken and exercise theirs. If,\nafter a suitable period, he will honestly examine his scholars on the\nsubjects, on which he has himself been so productive, he will find that\nhe has been only pouring water into a sieve. Teaching can never be this\none-sided process. Of all the things we attempt, it is the one most\nessentially and necessarily a cooperative process. There must be the\njoint action of the teacher's mind and the scholar's mind. A teacher\nteaches at all, only so far as he causes this coactive energy of the\npupil's mind.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nTHE ART OF QUESTIONING.\n\n\nThe measure of a teacher's success is not what he himself does, but what\nhe gets his scholars to do. In nothing is this more noticeable, than in\nthe different modes of putting a question to a scholar. One teacher will\nput a question in such a manner as to find out exactly how much or how\nlittle of the subject the child knows, and thereby encourage careful\npreparation; to give the pupil an open door, if he really knows the\nsubject, to express his knowledge in a way that will be a satisfaction\nand pleasure to him; to improve his power of expression, to cultivate\nhis memory, to increase his knowledge, and to make it more thorough and\ndefinite. Another teacher will put his questions so as to secure none of\nthese ends, but on the contrary so as to induce a most lamentable degree\nof carelessness and inaccuracy.\n\nLet me illustrate this point, taking an example for greater convenience\nfrom a scriptural subject. Suppose it to be a lesson upon Christ's\ntemptation, as recorded in the 4th chapter of Matthew. The dialogue\nbetween teacher and scholar may be supposed to proceed somewhat in this\nwise:\n\n_Teacher._ Who was led up of the Spirit into the wilderness to be\ntempted of the devil?\n\n_Pupil._ Jesus.\n\n_T._ Yes. Now, when Jesus had fasted forty days and forty nights, he\nwas afterward a---- what? How did he feel after that?\n\n_P._ Hungry.\n\n_T._ Yes, that is right. He was afterward \"a hungered.\" Now, then, the\nnext scholar. Who then came to Jesus and said, If thou be the Son of\nGod, command that these stones be made bread?\n\n(Scholar hesitates.)\n\n_T._ The t----?\n\n_P._ The tempter.\n\n_T._ Yes, you are right. It was the tempter. Who do you think is meant\nby the tempter?--the devil?\n\n_P._ Yes.\n\n_T._ When a man has fasted, that is, has eaten nothing, for forty days\nand forty nights, and feels very hungry, would the suggestion of an easy\nmode of getting food be likely to be a strong temptation to him, or\nwould it not?\n\n_P._ It would.\n\n_T._ Yes, you are right again. It would be a strong temptation to him.\n\nI need not pursue this dialogue further. The reader will see at once how\nthere may thus be the appearance of quite a brisk and fluent recitation,\nto which however the pupil contributes absolutely nothing. It requires\nnothing of him in the way of preparation, and only the most indolent and\nprofitless use of his faculties while reciting. He could hardly answer\namiss, unless he were an idiot, and yet he has the appearance, and he is\noften flattered into the belief, of having given some evidence of\nknowledge and proficiency.\n\nThe opposite extreme from the method just exhibited, is that known as\nthe topical method. It is the method pursued in the higher classes of\nschools, and among more advanced students. In the topical method, the\nteacher propounds a topic or subject, sometimes in the form of a\nquestion, but more commonly only by a title, a mere word or two, and\nthen calls upon the pupil to give, in his own words, a full and\nconnected narration or explanation of the subject, such as the teacher\nhimself would give, if called upon to narrate or explain it. The subject\nalready suggested, if profound topically, would be somewhat in this\nwise:\n\nThe first temptation of Jesus.\n\nOr, more fully: Narrate the circumstances of the first temptation of\nJesus, and show wherein his virtue was particularly tried in that\ntransaction.\n\nThe teacher, having propounded the subject clearly to the class, then\nwaits patiently, maintaining silence himself, and requiring the members\nof the class to be silent and attentive, until the pupil interrogated is\nquite through, not hurrying him, not interrupting him, even with\nmiscalled helps and hints, but leaving him to the free and independent\naction of his own faculties, in giving as full, connected, and complete\nan account of the matter as he can. When the pupil is quite through, the\nteacher then, but not before, makes any corrections or additional\nstatements that may seem to be needed. In such an exercise as this, the\npupil finds the absolute necessity of full and ample preparation; he has\na powerful and healthy stimulus thus to prepare, in the intellectual\nsatisfaction which one always feels in the successful discharge of any\ndifficult task; and he acquires a habit of giving complete and accurate\nexpression to his knowledge, by means of entire sentences, and without\nthe help of \"catch-words,\" or leading-strings of any kind.\n\nSome classes, of course, are not sufficiently advanced to carry out\nfully the method here explained. But there are many intermediate\nmethods, founded on the same principle, and suited to children in every\nstage of advancement. Only let it be understood, whatever the stage,\nthat the object of the recitation is, not to show what the teacher can\nsay or do, but to secure the right thing being said and done by the\npupil.\n\nTo recur once more to the same subject, the temptation of Christ. For a\nvery juvenile class, the questioning might proceed on this wise:\n\n_T._ Where was Jesus led after his baptism?\n\n_P._ He was led into the wilderness.\n\n_T._ By whom was he led there?\n\n_P._ He was led by the Spirit.\n\n_T._ For what purpose was he led into the wilderness?\n\n_P._ He was led into the wilderness to be tempted.\n\n_T._ By whom was he to be tempted?\n\n_P._ He was to be tempted by the devil.\n\n_T._ What bodily want was made the means of his first temptation?\n\nIf the class is quite young, and this question seems too difficult, the\nteacher, instead of asking it, or after asking it and not getting a\nsatisfactory answer, might say to his class, that Jesus was first\ntempted through the sense of hunger. He was very hungry, and the devil\nsuggested to him an improper means of relieving himself from the\ninconvenience. He might then go on with some such questions as these:\n\n_T._ What circumstance is mentioned as showing how very hungry he must\nhave been?\n\n_P._ He had fasted forty days and forty nights.\n\n_T._ Mention any way in which _you_ might be tempted to sin, if you were\nsuffering from hunger?\n\nThe foregoing questions, it will be perceived, are very simple, being\nsuited to scholars just advanced beyond the infant class. Yet no one of\nthe questions, in its form, or terms, necessarily suggests the answer.\nNo one of them can be answered by a mere \"yes\" or \"no.\" No scholar,\nunacquainted with the subject, and with his book closed, can guess at\nthe answer from the way in which the question is put. Not a question has\nbeen given, simple as they all are, which does not require some\npreparation, and which does not, to some extent, give exercise to the\npupil's memory, his judgment, and his capacity for expression.\n\nIf the class is more advanced, the questions may be varied, so as to\ntask and exercise these faculties more seriously. For instance, the\nteacher of a class somewhat older might be imagined to begin the\nexercise thus:\n\n_T._ After the baptism of Jesus, which closes the 3d chapter of Matthew,\nwe have an account of several temptations to which he was exposed. Now,\nopen your books at the 4th chapter, and see if you can find out how many\nverses are occupied with the narrative of these temptations, and at what\nverse each temptation begins.\n\nThe teacher then requires all the class to search in silence, and each\none to get ready to answer, but lets no answer be given until all are\nprepared. When all have signified their readiness, some one is\ndesignated to give the answer.\n\nThe books being closed, the questioning begins:\n\n_T._ Name the different places into which Jesus was taken to be tempted,\nand the verse in which each place is named.\n\n_P._ It is said in the 1st verse that Jesus was led up into the\nwilderness; in the 5th verse, that he was taken up into the holy city,\nand set on a pinnacle of the temple; and in the 8th verse, that he was\ntaken up into an exceedingly high mountain.\n\n_T._ What was the condition of Jesus, when the devil proposed his first\ntemptation?\n\n_P._ He had been fasting forty days and forty nights, and he was very\nhungry.\n\nI need not multiply these illustrations. I have not made them entirely\nin vain, if I have succeeded in producing in the mind of the reader the\nconviction of these two things: first, that it is a most important and\ndifficult part of the teacher's art, to know how to ask a question; and\nsecondly, that the true measure of the teacher's ability is, not so much\nwhat he himself is able to say to the scholars, as the fulness, the\naccuracy, and the completeness of the answers which he gets from them.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nTHE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN TEACHING AND TRAINING.\n\n\nThese two processes practically run into each other a good deal, but\nthey ought not to be confounded. Training implies more or less of\npractical application of what one has been taught. One may be taught,\nfor instance, the exact forms of the letters used in writing, so as to\nknow at once by the eye whether the letters are formed correctly or not.\nBut only training and practice will make him a penman. Training refers\nmore to the formation of habits. A child may by reasoning be taught the\nimportance of punctuality in coming to school; but he is trained to the\nhabit of punctuality only by actually coming to school in good time, day\nafter day.\n\nThe human machine on which the teacher acts, is in its essential nature\ndifferent from the material agencies operated on by other engineers. It\nis, as I have once and again said, a living power, with laws and\nprocesses of its own. Constant care, therefore, must be exercised, in\nthe business of education, not to be misled by analogies drawn from the\nmaterial world. The steam-engine may go over its appointed task, day\nafter day, the whole year round, and yet, at the end of the year, it\nwill have no more tendency to go than before its first trip. Not so the\nboy. Going begets going. By doing a thing often, he acquires a\nfacility, an inclination, a tendency, a habit of doing it. If a teacher\nor a parent succeeds in getting a child to do a thing once, it will be\neasier to get him to do it a second time, and still easier a third time.\n\nA teacher who is wise, when he seeks to bring about any given change in\na child, whether it be intellectual or moral, will not ordinarily\nattempt to produce the change all at once, and by main force. He will\nnot rely upon extravagant promises on the one side, nor upon scolding,\nthreats, and violence on the other. Solomon hits the idea exactly, when\nhe speaks of \"leading in the way of righteousness.\" We must take the\nyoung by the hand and lead them. When we have led them over the ground\nonce, let us do it a second time, and then a third time, and so keep on,\nuntil we shall have established with them a routine, which they will\ncontinue to follow of their own accord, when the guiding hand which\nfirst led them is withdrawn. _This is training._\n\nThe theory of it is true, not only in regard to things to be done, which\nis generally admitted, but also in regard to things to be known, which\nis often ignored if not denied. A boy, we will say, has a repugnance to\nthe study of arithmetic. Perhaps he is particularly dull of\ncomprehension on that subject. We shall not remove that repugnance by\nrailing at him. We shall never make him admire it by expatiating on its\nbeauties. It will not become clear to his comprehension by our pouring\nupon it all at once a sudden and overpowering blaze of light in the way\nof explanation. Such a process rather confounds him. Here again let us\nfall back upon the method of the great Teacher, \"Line upon line, precept\nupon precept.\" We will first patiently conduct our boy through one of\nthe simplest operations of arithmetic, say, a sum in addition. The next\nday we will conduct him again through the same process, or through\nanother of the same sort. The steps will gradually become familiar to\nhis mind, then easy, then clear. He learns first the practice of\narithmetic, then the rules, then the relations of numbers, then the\ntheory on which the rules and the practice are based, and finally, he\nhardly knows how, he becomes an arithmetician. He has been trained into\na knowledge of the subject.\n\nYou wish to teach a young child how to find a word in a dictionary. You\ngive at first, perhaps, a verbal description of the mystery of a\ndictionary. You will tell him that, in such a book, all the words are\narranged according to the letters with which they begin; that all the\nwords beginning with the letter A are in the first part of the book;\nthen those beginning with the letter B, then those beginning with C, and\nso on; you tell him that all the words beginning with one letter,\ncovering some one or two hundred pages, are again re-arranged among\nthemselves according to the second letter of each word, and then again\nstill further re-arranged according to the third letter in each, and so\non to the end. Arouse his utmost attention, and explain the process with\nthe greatest clearness that words can give, and then set him to find a\nword. See how awkward will be his first attempt, how confused his ideas,\nhow little he has really understood what you have told him. You must\nrepeat your directions patiently, over and over, \"line upon line;\" you\nmust take him by the hand day after day, and train him into a knowledge\nof even so apparently simple a thing as finding a word in a dictionary.\n\nWhile teaching and training are thus distinguishable in theory, in\npractice they are well nigh inseparable. At least, they never should be\nseparated. Teaching has never done its perfect work, until, by training,\nthe mind has learned to run in accustomed channels, until it sees what\nis true, and feels what is right, with the clearness, force, and\npromptitude, which come only from long-continued habit.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nMODES OF HEARING RECITATIONS.\n\n\nThe first that I shall name is called the Concert Method. This is\npractised chiefly in schools for very young children, especially for\nthose who cannot read. There are many advantages in this method, some of\nwhich are not confined to infant classes. The timid, who are frightened\nby the sound of their own voices when attempting to recite alone, are\nthereby encouraged to speak out; and those who have had any experience\nwith such children, know that this is no small, or easy, or unimportant\nachievement. Another benefit of the method is the pleasure it gives the\nchildren. The measured noise and motion connected with such concert\nexercises, are particularly attractive to young children. Moreover, one\ngood teacher, by the use of this method, may greatly multiply his\nefficiency. He may teach simultaneously fifty or sixty, instead of\nteaching only five or six. But in estimating this advantage, one error\nis to be guarded against. Visitors often hear a large class of fifty or\nmore go through an exercise of this kind, in which the scholars have\nbeen drilled to recite in concert; and if such persons have never been\naccustomed to investigate the fact, they often suppose that the answers\ngiven are the intelligent responses of all the members of the class. The\ntruth is, however, in very many such cases, that only some half dozen\nor so really recite the answers from their own independent knowledge.\nThese serve as leaders; the others, sheep-like, follow. Still, by\nfrequent repetition, even in this blind way, something gradually sticks\nto the memory, although the impression is always apt to be vague and\nundefined.\n\nThe method of reciting in concert is chiefly useful in reciting rules\nand definitions, or other matters, where the very words are to be\ncommitted to memory. The impression of so large a body of sound upon the\near is very strong, and is a great help in the matter of mere verbal\nrecollection. Children too are very sympathetic, and a really skilful\nteacher, by the concert method, can do a great deal in cultivating the\nemotional nature of a large class.\n\nYoung children, too, it should be remembered, like all other young\nanimals, are by nature restless and fidgety, and like to make a noise.\nIt is possible, indeed, by a system of rigorous and harsh repression, to\nrestrain this restlessness, and to keep these little ones for hours in\nsuch a state of decorous primness as not to molest weak nerves. But such\na system of forced constraint is not natural to children, and is not a\nwise method of teaching. Let the youngsters make a noise; I had almost\nsaid, the more noise the better, so it be duly regulated. Let them\nexercise, not only their lungs, but their limbs, moving in concert,\nrising up, sitting down, turning round, marching, raising their hands,\npointing to objects to which their attention is called, looking at\nobjects which are shown to them. Movement and noise are the life of a\nchild. They should be regulated indeed, but not repressed. To make a\nyoung child sit still and keep silence for any great length of time, is\nnext door to murder. I verily believe it sometimes is murder. The\nhealth, and even the lives of these little ones, are sacrificed to a\nfalse theory of teaching. There is no occasion for torturing a child in\norder to teach him. God did not so mean it. Only let your teaching be in\naccordance with the wants of his young nature, and the school-room will\nbe to him the most attractive spot of all the earth. Time and again have\nI seen the teacher of a primary school obliged at recess to compel her\nchildren to go out of doors, so much more pleasant did they find the\nschool-room than the play-ground.\n\nQuite the opposite extreme from the concert method, is that which, for\nconvenience, may be called the individual method. In this method, the\nteacher examines one scholar alone upon the whole lesson, and then\nanother, and so on, until the class is completed.\n\nThe only advantage claimed for this method is, that the individual\nlaggard cannot screen his deficiencies, as he can when reciting in\nconcert. He cannot make believe to know the lesson by lazily joining in\nwith the general current of voice when the answers are given. His own\nindividual knowledge, or ignorance, stands out. This is clear, and so\nfar it is an advantage. But ascertaining what a pupil knows of a lesson,\nis only one end, and that by no means the most important end of a\nrecitation. This interview between the pupil and teacher, called a\nrecitation, has many ends besides that of merely detecting how much of a\nsubject the pupil knows. A far higher end is to make him know more,--to\nmake perfect that knowledge which the most faithful preparation on the\npart of the pupil always leaves incomplete.\n\nThe disadvantages of the individual method are obvious. It is a great\nwaste of time. If a teacher has a class of twenty, and an hour to hear\nthem in, it gives him but three minutes for each pupil, supposing there\nare no interruptions. But there always are interruptions. In public\nschools the class oftener numbers forty than twenty, and the time for\nrecitation is oftener half an hour than an hour. The teacher who pursues\nthe individual method to its extreme, will rarely find himself in\npossession of more than one minute to each scholar. In so brief a time,\nvery little can be ascertained as to what the scholar knows of the\nlesson, and still less can anything be done to increase that knowledge.\nMoreover, while the teacher is bestowing his small modicum of time upon\none scholar, all the other members of the class are idle, or worse.\n\nTeaching, of all kinds of labor, is that in which labor-saving and\ntime-saving methods are of the greatest moment. The teacher who is wise,\nwill aim so to conduct a recitation that, first, his whole time shall be\ngiven to every scholar; and secondly, each scholar's mind shall be\nexercised with every part of the lesson, and just as much when others\nare reciting, as when it is his own time to recite. A teacher who can do\nthis is teaching every scholar, all the time, just as much as if he had\nno scholar but that one.\n\nEven this does not state the whole case. A scholar in such a class\nlearns more in a given time, than he would if he were alone and the\nteacher's entire time were given exclusively to him. The human mind is\nwonderfully quickened by sympathy. In a crowd each catches, in some\nmysterious manner, an impulse from his fellows. The influence of\nassociated numbers, all engaged upon the same thought, is universally to\nrouse the mind to a higher exercise of its powers. A mind that is dull,\nlethargic, and heavy in its movements when moving solitarily, often\neffects, when under a social and sympathetic impulse, achievements that\nare a wonder to itself.\n\nThe teacher, then, who knows how thus to make a unit of twenty or thirty\npupils, really multiplies himself twenty or thirty-fold, besides giving\nto the whole class an increased momentum such as always belongs to an\naggregated mass. I have seen a teacher instruct a class of forty in such\na way, as, in the first place, to secure the subordinate end of\nascertaining and registering with a sufficient degree of exactness how\nmuch each scholar knows of the lesson by his own preparation, and\nsecondly, to secure, during the whole hour, the active exercise and\ncooperation of each individual mind, under the powerful stimulus of the\nsocial instinct, and of a keenly awakened attention. Such a teacher\naccomplishes more in one hour than the slave of the individual method\ncan accomplish in forty hours. A scholar in such a class learns more in\none hour than he would learn in forty hours, in a class of equal numbers\ntaught on the other plan. Such teaching is labor-saving and time-saving,\nin their highest perfection, employed upon the noblest of ends.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nON OBSERVING A PROPER ORDER IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE MENTAL FACULTIES.\n\n\nEducation may be defined to be the process of developing in due order\nand proportion all the good and desirable parts of human nature. On this\npoint all educators are substantially agreed. Another truth, to which\nthere is a general theoretical assent, is, that, in the order in which\nwe develop the faculties, we should follow the leadings of nature,\ncultivating in childhood those faculties which seem most naturally to\nflourish in childish years, and reserving for maturer years the\ncultivation of those faculties which in the order of nature do not show\nmuch vigor until near the age of manhood, and which require for their\nfull development a general ripening of all the other powers. The\ndevelopment of a human being is in some respects like that of a plant.\nThere is one stage of growth suitable for the appearance and maturity of\nthe leaf, another for the flower, a third for the fruit, and still a\nfourth for the perfected and ripened seed.\n\nThe analogy has of course many limitations. In the human plant, for\ninstance, one class of faculties, after maturing, does not disappear in\norder to make place for another class, as the flower disappears before\nthere can be fruit. Nor, again, is any class of faculties wanting\naltogether until the season for their development and maturity. The\nfaculties all exist together--leaf, flower, fruit, and seed--at the same\ntime, but each has its own best time for ripening.\n\nWhile these principles have received the general assent of educators,\nthere has been a wide divergence among them as to some of the practical\napplications. Which faculties do most naturally ripen early in life, and\nwhich late in life?\n\nAccording to my own observation, the latest of the human powers in\nmaturing, as it is the most consummate, is the Judgment. Next in the\norder of maturity, and next also in majesty and excellence, is the\nReasoning power. Reason is minister to the judgment, furnishing to the\nlatter materials for its action, as all the other powers, memory, fancy,\nimagination, and so forth, are ministers to reason, and supply it with\nits materials. The reasoning power lacks true vigor and muscle, the\njudgment is little to be relied on, until we approach manhood. Nature\nwithholds from these faculties an earlier development, for the very\nreason, apparently, that they can ordinarily have but scanty materials\nfor action until after the efflorescence of the other faculties. The\nmind must first be well filled with knowledge, which the other faculties\nhave gathered and stored, before reason and judgment can have full scope\nfor action.\n\nGoing to the other end of the scale, I have as little doubt that the\nearliest of all the faculties to bud and blossom, is the Memory.\nChildren not only commit to memory with ease, but they take actual\npleasure in it. Tasks, under which the grown-up man recoils and reels,\nthe child will assume with light heart, and execute without fatigue.\nCommitting to memory, which is repulsive drudgery to the man, is the\neasiest of all tasks to the child. More than this. The things fixed in\nthe memory of childhood are seldom forgotten. Things learned later in\nlife, not only are learned with greater difficulty, but more rapidly\ndisappear. I recall instantly and without effort, texts of Scripture,\nhymns, catechisms, rules of grammar and arithmetic, and scraps of poetry\nand of classic authors, with which I became familiar when a boy. But it\nis a labor of Hercules for me to repeat by memory anything acquired\nsince attaining the age of manhood. The Creator seems to have arranged\nan order in the natural development of the faculties for this very\npurpose, that in childhood and youth we may be chiefly occupied with the\naccumulation of materials in our intellectual storehouse. Now to reverse\nthis process, to occupy the immature mind of childhood chiefly with the\ncultivation of faculties which are of later growth, and actually to put\nshackles and restraints upon the memory, nicknaming and ridiculing all\nmemoriter exercises as parrot performances, is to ignore one of the\nprimary facts of human nature. It is to be wiser than God.\n\nAnother faculty that shoots up into full growth in the very morning and\nspring-time of life, is Faith. I speak here, of course, not of religious\nbelief, but of that faculty of the human mind which leads a child to\nbelieve instinctively whatever is told him. That we all do thus believe\nuntil by slow and painful experience we learn to do otherwise, needs no\ndemonstration. Everybody's experience attests the fact. It is equally\nplain that the existence and maturity of this faculty in early childhood\nis a most wise and beneficent provision of nature. How slow and tedious\nwould be the first steps in knowledge, were the child born, as some\nteachers seem trying to make him, a sceptic, that is, with a mind which\nrefuses to receive anything as true, except what it has first proved by\nexperience and reason! On the contrary, how much is the acquisition of\nknowledge expedited, during these years of helplessness and dependency,\nby this spontaneous, instinctive faith of childhood. The same infinite\nwisdom and love, which in the order of nature provide for the helpless\ninfant a father and mother to care for it, provide also in the\nconstitution of the infant's mind that instinctive principle or power of\nfaith, which alone makes the father's and mother's love efficacious\ntowards its intellectual growth and development. Of what use were\nparents or teachers, in instructing a child which required proof for\nevery statement that father, mother, or teacher gives? How cruel to\nforce the confiding young heart into premature scepticism, by compelling\nhim to hunt up reasons for everything, when he has reasons, to him\nall-sufficient, in the fact that father, mother, or teacher told him so?\n\nIt may seem trifling to dwell so long upon these elementary points. Yet\nthere are wide-spread plans of education which violate every principle\nhere laid down. Educators and systems of education, enjoying the highest\npopularity, seem to have adopted the theory, at least they tacitly act\nupon the theory, that the first faculty of the mind to be developed is\nthe Reasoning power. Indeed, they are not far from asserting that the\nwhole business of education consists in the cultivation of this power,\nand they bend accordingly their main energies upon training young\nchildren to go through certain processes of reasoning, so called. They\nrequire a child to prove everything before receiving it as true; to\nreason out a rule for himself for every process in arithmetic or\ngrammar; to demonstrate the multiplication-table before daring to use\nit, or to commit it to memory, if indeed they do not forbid entirely its\nbeing committed to memory as too parrot-like and mechanical. To commit\nblindly to memory precious forms of truth, which the wise and good have\nhived for the use of the race, is poohed at as old-fogyish. To receive\nas true anything which the child cannot fathom, and which he has not\ndiscovered or demonstrated for himself, is denounced as slavish. All\nauthority in teaching, growing out of the age and the reputed wisdom of\nthe teacher, all faith and reverence in the learner, growing out of a\nsense of his ignorance and dependence, are discarded, and the frightened\nstripling is continually rapped on the knuckles, if he does not at every\nstep show the truth of his allegations by what is called a course of\nreasoning. Children reason, of course. They should be encouraged and\ntaught to reason. No teacher, who is wise, will neglect this part of a\nchild's intellectual powers. But he will not consider this the season\nfor its main, normal development. He will hold this subject for the\npresent subordinate to many others. Moreover, the methods of reasoning,\nwhich he does adopt, will be of a peculiar kind, suited to the nature\nof childhood, the results being mainly intuitional, rather than the\nfruits of formal logic. To oblige a young child to go through a formal\nsyllogistic statement in every step in elementary arithmetic, for\ninstance, is simply absurd. It makes nothing plain to a child's mind\nwhich was not plain before. On the contrary, it often makes a muddle of\nwhat had been perfectly clear. What was in the clear sunlight of\nintuition, is now in a haze, through the intervening medium of logical\nterms and forms, through which he is obliged to look at it.\n\nA primary teacher asks her class this question: \"If I can buy 6 marbles\nwith 1 penny, how many marbles can I buy with 5 pennies?\" A bright boy\nwho should promptly answer \"30\" would be sharply rebuked. Little\neight-year old Solon on the next bench has been better trained than\nthat. With stately and solemn enunciation he delivers himself of a\nperformance somewhat of this sort. \"If I can buy 6 marbles with 1 penny,\nhow many marbles can I buy with 5 pennies? Answer--I can buy 5 times as\nmany marbles with 5 pennies as I can buy with 1 penny. If, therefore, I\ncan buy 6 marbles with 1 penny, I can buy 5 times as many marbles with 5\npennies; and 5 times 6 marbles are 30 marbles. Therefore, if I can buy 6\nmarbles with one penny, I can buy 30 marbles with 5 pennies.\"\n\nAnd this is termed reasoning! And to train children, by forced and\nartificial processes, to go through such a rigmarole of words, is\nrecommended as a means of cultivating their reasoning power and of\nimproving their power of expression! It is not pretended that children\nby such a process become more expert in reckoning. On the contrary,\ntheir movements as ready reckoners are retarded by it. Instead of\nlearning to jump at once to the conclusion, lightning-like, by a sort of\nintuitional process, which is of the very essence of an expert\naccountant, they learn laboriously to stay their march by a cumbersome\nand confusing circumlocution of words. And the expenditure of time and\ntoil needed to acquire these formulas of expression, which nine times\nout of ten are to those young minds the mere _dicta magistri_, is\njustified on the ground that the children, if not learning arithmetic,\nare learning to reason.\n\nLet me not be misunderstood. I do not advocate the disuse of\nexplanations. Let teachers explain, let children give explanations. Let\nthe rationale of the various processes through which the child goes,\nreceive a certain amount of attention. But the extreme into which some\nare now going, in primary education, is that of giving too much time to\nexplanation and to theory, and too little to practice. We reverse, too,\nthe order of nature in this matter. What it now takes weeks and months\nto make clear to the immature understanding, is apprehended at a later\nday with ease and delight at the very first statement. There is a clear\nand consistent philosophy underlying this whole matter. It is simply\nthis. In the healthy and natural order of development in educating a\nyoung mind, theory should follow practice, not precede it. Children\nlearn the practice of arithmetic very young. They take to it naturally,\nand learn it easily, and become very rapidly expert practical\naccountants. But the science of arithmetic is quite another matter, and\nshould not be forced upon them until a much later stage in their\nadvancement.\n\nTo have a really correct apprehension of the principle of decimal\nnotation, for instance, to understand that it is purely arbitrary, and\nthat we might in the same way take any other number than ten as the base\nof a numerical scale,--that we might increase for instance by fives, or\neights, or nines, or twelves, just as well as by tens--all this requires\nconsiderable maturity of intellect, and some subtlety of reasoning.\nIndeed I doubt whether many of the pretentious sciolists, who insist so\nmuch on young children giving the rationale of everything, have\nthemselves ever yet made an ultimate analysis of the first step in\narithmetical notation. Many of them would open their eyes were you to\ntell them, for instance, that the number of fingers on your two hands\nmay be just as correctly expressed by the figures 11, 12, 13, 14, or 15,\nas by the figures 10,--a truism perfectly familiar to every one\nacquainted with the generalizations of higher arithmetic. Yet it is\nup-hill work to make the matter quite clear to a beginner. We may wisely\ntherefore give our children at first an arbitrary rule for notation. We\ngive them an equally arbitrary rule for addition. They accept these\nrules and work upon them, and learn thereby the practical operations of\narithmetic. The theory will follow in due time. When perfectly familiar\nwith the practice and the forms of arithmetic, and sufficiently mature\nin intellect, they awaken gradually and surely, and almost without an\neffort, to the beautiful logic which underlies the science.\n\nHow do we learn language in childhood? Is it not solely on authority\nand by example? A child who lives in a family where no language is used\nbut that which is logically and grammatically correct, will learn to\nspeak with logical and grammatical correctness long before it is able to\ngive any account of the processes of its own mind in the matter, or\nindeed to understand those processes when explained by others. In other\nwords, practice in language precedes theory. It should do so in other\nthings. The parent who should take measures to prevent a child from\nspeaking its mother tongue, except just so far and so fast as it could\nunderstand and explain the subtle logic which underlies all language,\nwould be quite as wise as the teacher who refuses to let a child become\nexpert in practical reckoning, until it can understand and explain at\nevery step the rationale of the process,--who will not suffer a child to\nlearn the multiplication table until it has mastered the metaphysics of\nthe science of numbers, and can explain with the formalities of\nsyllogism exactly how and why seven times nine make sixty-three.\n\nThese illustrations have carried me a little, perhaps, from my subject.\nBut they seemed necessary to show that I am not beating the air. I have\nfeared lest, in our very best schools, in the rebound from the exploded\nerrors of the old system, we have unconsciously run into an error in the\nopposite extreme.\n\nMy positions on the particular point now under consideration may be\nsummed up briefly, as follows:\n\n1. In developing the faculties, we should follow the order of nature.\n\n2. The faculties of memory and faith should be largely exercised and\ncultivated in childhood.\n\n3. While the judgment and the reasoning faculty should be exercised\nduring every stage of the intellectual development, the appropriate\nseason for their main development and culture is near the close, rather\nthan near the beginning, of an educational course.\n\n4. The methods of reasoning used with children should be of a simple\nkind, dealing largely in direct intuitions, rather than formal and\nsyllogistic.\n\n5. It is a mistake to spend a large amount of time and effort in\nrequiring young children formally to explain the rationale of their\nintellectual processes, and especially in requiring them to give such\nexplanations before they have become by practice thoroughly familiar\nwith the processes themselves.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\nTEACHING CHILDREN WHAT THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND.\n\n\nIt is not uncommon to hear persons declaim against teaching children\nwhat they do not understand. If by this is meant that children should\nnot learn a set of words as parrots do, merely by the ear, and without\nattaching any idea to what they utter, no one will dissent from the\npropriety of the rule. But if the meaning is that they should learn\nnothing except what they fully comprehend, the rule certainly needs to\nbe hedged in by some grave precautions.\n\nThere are indeed few things which any one, the oldest or the wisest,\nfully comprehends. Who knows what matter is? Certainly not the most\neminent of philosophers. They do not pretend to know. We pick up a\npebble. Who can tell what it is, absolutely? We say that it is something\nwhich has certain qualities. But even these we know mainly by negations.\nThe pebble is hard, that is, it does _not_ yield to pressure. It is\nopaque, that is, it does _not_ transmit light. It is heavy, that is, it\ndoes _not_ remain still, but goes towards the centre of the earth unless\nintercepted by some interposing body.\n\nWho knows the meaning, absolutely, of a single article of the Creed?\nCertainly not the most eminent of divines. We know certain things about\nthe great mysteries of the Godhead, and even these things we know, not\ndirectly, but by certain faint, distant analogies, and we express our\nknowledge in terms chosen mainly from Scripture and arranged with care\nby wise and learned men. These venerable formularies, containing the\nmost exact verbal expression which the Church has been able to frame, of\nwhat the Scriptures teach about God and his ways, we commit to memory,\nand we repeat them with comfort and edification. But we do not pretend\nto penetrate the very essence of their meaning. Who by searching can\nfind out God? One must be God himself to understand him.\n\nWe read that Christ was tempted of the devil in the wilderness. There\nare many things in this transaction which we may be said, in a certain\nsense, to know. But a man will not proceed far in analyzing this\nknowledge before he will discover that there are mysteries underlying\nthe whole, which he cannot penetrate. He knows some of the surface\nrelations. But the things themselves, in their essence, are unknown. Was\nChrist tempted, as the devil tempts us, by suggesting thoughts in the\nmind? Was the devil present in a bodily shape? Did he utter an audible\nvoice, by undulating the air, as we do? Has he direct relations to\nmatter, as we have? How could his offer of worldly power and riches be\nany real temptation to the Saviour, when Jesus knew that Satan had no\npower to make his offer good?\n\nThere are indeed few things, in revelation or out of revelation, in mind\nor in matter, which we really and fully comprehend. If, therefore, we\nare to teach children nothing but what they understand, we must either\nteach them nothing at all, or our rule must be materially qualified. No\none knows absolutely but God. Among created beings, there are almost\ninfinite gradations of intelligence, although the highest created\nintelligence begins its range infinitely below that of the Divine mind.\nA given formula of words, therefore, may express very different degrees\nof truth according to the degree of intelligence of the party using it.\n\nA catechism or a creed may convey twenty different degrees of meaning to\ntwenty successive persons, varying in age, character, and culture. Yet\nthe very youngest and feeblest shall understand something of its\nmeaning, while the wisest and oldest shall not have exhausted it. The\nyoung and feeble intellect, receiving a formula of truth with suitable\nexplanations of its terms, takes in at once a portion of its meaning and\ngradually grows into a fuller comprehension of what it has received. A\nstatement of doctrine received by a child at the age of five, conveys to\nhim a few feeble rays of light. The same statement at the age of ten,\nmeans to him far more than it did before, while at twenty it is all\nluminous with knowledge.\n\nThe mind itself grows and expands, and with every addition to its own\nvigor and stature, does it find new truths in those expressive and\npregnant formulas of doctrine with which it has from childhood been\nfamiliar. It is like looking at a material object, first with the naked\neye, and then with glasses of continually increased magnifying power.\nThe more we increase the power, the more we see in the same bit of\nmatter. Yet no glass will ever reveal to us the very interior essence of\neven the smallest particle of dust. God only knows fully either any\nsingle thing or the sum of things. Because, however, we cannot see into\nthe essence of a pebble or a grain of sand, shall we shut our eyes to it\naltogether? Shall we not look at it, first as an infant does, then as a\nchild, then as a youth, then as a man, then as a philosopher? We can\nnever see it as God does. But we shall see it with ever-growing powers\nof vision, until that which was to us at first only a rude mass becomes\nan exhaustless organized microcosm of wonders.\n\nI do not advocate the overloading of children with verbal statements of\nabstruse doctrines, whether of religion or of science. Much less would I\nturn them into parrots, to repeat phrases to which they attach no\nmeaning at all. But when it is demanded, on the other hand, that they\nshall learn nothing but what they understand, I demur. I ask for\nexplanation of the rule. I insist that, every statement of truth which\nthey learn, even the most elementary, contains depths which neither they\nnor their teachers can fathom. I insist that, both in science and\nreligion, there are certain great, admitted elementary truths, reduced\nto forms of sound words with which the whole world is familiar; and that\nwhile these formularies contain many things which a child cannot\nunderstand, they yet contain many things of which even the youngest\nchild has a fair comprehension. I insist that a carefully prepared\nreligious creed or catechism, even though it contains many things beyond\na child's present comprehension, is a fit subject for study. Memory in\nchildhood is quick and tenacious. The treasures first laid away in that\ngreat storehouse are the last to be removed. They may be overlaid by\nsubsequent accumulations, but they are still ready for use. Forms of\nsound words are certainly among the things which parents and teachers\nshould store away in the young minds of which they have charge. If the\nchild does not understand all that he thus places in his memory, he\nunderstands portions of it just as he sees certain qualities of the\npebble which he holds in his hand, and he will see and understand more,\nas his mind expands and his powers of spiritual vision increase.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nCULTIVATING THE MEMORY IN YOUTH.\n\n\nMany educators now-a-days are accustomed to speak slightly of the\nold-fashioned plan of committing to memory verses of Scripture, hymns,\ncatechisms, creeds, and other formulas of doctrine and sentiment in\nreligion and science. Many speak disparagingly even of memory itself,\nand profess to think it a faculty of minor importance, regarding its\ncultivation as savoring of old-fogyism, and sneering at all memoriter\nexercises among children as the chattering of parrots. It is never\nwithout amazement that I hear such utterances. Memory is God's gift, by\nwhich alone we are able to retain our intellectual acquisitions. Without\nit, study is useless, and education simply an impossibility. Without it,\nthere could be no such thing as growth in knowledge. We could know no\nmore to-day than we knew yesterday, or last week, or last year. The man\nwould be no wiser than the boy. Without this faculty, the mind would be,\nnot as now like the prepared plate which the photographer puts in his\ncamera, and which retains indelibly on its surface the impressions of\nwhatever objects pass before it; but would rather be like the window\npane, before which passes from day to day the gorgeous panorama of\nnature, transmitting with equal and crystalline clearness the golden\nglory of the sun, the pale rays of the moon and stars, the soft green of\nmeadow and woodland, images of beauty and loveliness, of light and\nshade, from every object on the earth and in the heavens; but retaining\non its own surface not a line or a tint of the millions of rays that\nhave passed through its substance, and remaining to the end the same bit\nof transparent glass, unchanged, unprofited by the countless changes it\nhas received and transmitted.\n\nMemory alone gives value to the products of every other faculty,\nstamping them with the seal of possessorship, and making them truly\nours. In vain reason forges its bolts, in vain imagination paints its\nscenes, in vain the senses give us a knowledge of the shapes and forms\nof external nature, in vain ideas of any sort or from any source come\ninto our minds, unless we have the power to retain and fix them there,\nand make them a part of our accumulated intellectual wealth. To do this\nis the office of memory, and whatever increases the activity and power\nof the memory, gives at once value and growth to every other power.\n\nMemory has been well called the store-house of our ideas. The\nillustration is true not only in its main feature, but in many of the\nminor details. The value of what a man puts away in a store-house\ndepends much upon the order and system with which the objects are\nstored. The wise and thrifty merchant has bins and boxes and\ncompartments and pigeon-holes, all arranged with due order and symmetry,\nand every item of goods, as it is added to his stock, is put away at\nonce in its appropriate place, where he can lay his hands upon it\nwhenever it is wanted. There should be a like method and system in our\nmental accumulations. The remembrance of facts and truths is of little\nvalue to us unless we can remember them in their connections, and can so\nremember them as to be able to lay our hands upon any particular thought\nor fact just when and where it is wanted. Many persons read and study\nvoraciously, filling their minds most industriously with knowledge, but\nsuch a confusion of ideas prevails throughout their intellectual\nstore-house, that their very wealth is only an embarrassment to them.\nThe very first rule to be observed, therefore, in cultivating the\nmemory, is to reduce our knowledge to some system. Those who are charged\nwith the training of the young should seek not only to store their minds\nwith ideas, but to present these ideas to them in well ordered shapes\nand forms, and in due logical order and coherence. Hence the peculiar\nvalue of requiring children at the proper age to commit to memory the\ngrand formulas of Christian doctrine, on which, in every church, its\nwisest and ablest men have expended their strength in placing great\ntruths in connected and logical order and dependence. The creeds and\ncatechisms of the Christian church are among the best products of the\nhuman intellect as mere specimens of verbal statement, and are valuable,\nif for nothing else, as a means for exercising the memory. A child who\nhas thoroughly mastered a good catechism has his intellectual\nstore-house already reduced to some order and system. His mind is not\nthe chaos that we so often find in those children who are gathered into\nour mission schools.\n\nThe objects that are put away for safe-keeping differ in one respect\nfrom those things which are stored away in the memory. The material\nobject is the same, whether we visit and inspect it from day to day or\nnot. The banker's dollars are not increased in fineness or value by his\nhandling them over carefully every day. Not so with intellectual coin.\nThe more frequently we re-examine our knowledge and pass it under\nreview, the more does it become fixed in its character, the more full\nand exact in its proportions. Handling it does not wear it out. Even\ngiving it away does not diminish it. In short, so far as the cultivation\nof the memory is concerned, the next best thing we can do, after\nreducing our knowledge to due order, is to give it a frequent and\nthorough re-examination. Constant, almost endless repetition is the\ninexorable price of sound mental accumulation.\n\nA distinction is to be made between memory as a power of the mind and\nthe remembrance of particular facts. One or two examples will illustrate\nthis difference. The late Dr. Addison Alexander, of the Theological\nSeminary at Princeton, had memory as an intellectual power to a degree\nalmost marvellous. The following instance may be cited. On one occasion,\na large class of forty or fifty were to be matriculated in the Seminary\nin the presence of the Faculty. The ceremony of matriculation was very\nsimple. The professors and the new students being all assembled, in a\nlarge hall, each student in turn presented himself before the\nprofessors, had his credentials examined by them, and if the same proved\nsatisfactory, entered his name in full and his residence, in the\nregister. When the matriculation was complete and the students had\nretired, there was some bantering among the professors as to which of\nthem should take the register home and prepare from it an alphabetical\nroll,--a work always considered rather tedious and irksome. After a\nlittle hesitation, Dr. Alexander said, \"There is no need of taking the\nregister home; I will make the roll for you;\" and, taking a sheet of\npaper, at once, from memory, without referring to the register, and\nmerely from having heard the names as they were recorded, he proceeded\nto make out the roll, giving the names in full and giving them in their\nalphabetical order. This was a prodigious feat of pure memory; for in\norder to make the alphabetical arrangement in his mind, before\ncommitting it to paper, he must have had the entire mass of names\npresent in his mind by a single act of the will. Some of the wonderful\ngames of chess performed by Paul Morphy are dependent in part upon a\nsimilar power of memory, by which the player is enabled to keep present\nin his mind, without seeing the board, a long series of complicated\nevolutions, past as well as prospective and possible. The same is true\nof every great military strategist.\n\nIn all these cases, there is an act of pure memory, a direct and\npositive power of summoning into the mind its past experiences, such as\ncan only take place where, either by natural gift or by special\ntraining, the memory as a faculty of the mind is in a high state of\nvigor. But there are other cases, in which a man is enabled to recall a\ngreat number of particular facts by a species of artifice or trick,\nwhich does not imply any special mental power, and the study of which\ndoes not tend, in any marked degree, to develop such power. More than\nthirty years ago, the late Professor Dod, of Princeton College, in\nlecturing to a class on the subject of light, was explaining the solar\nspectrum, and after exhibiting the solar ray, divided into its seven\nprimary colors, violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red,\nsaid, \"If you will form a mnemonic word of the first letters of each of\nthese words, you will be able, without further effort, to remember the\norder of the prismatic colors the rest of your lives,\" and he\naccordingly wrote upon the board and pronounced the uncouth and almost\nunpronounceable word, _Vibgyor_, which probably not one of us has ever\nforgotten. An ingenious Frenchman some years ago traversed the country\nand collected large audiences by his exhibitions of skill in this\nspecies of artifice, and by undertaking to initiate his hearers in the\nmethod of remembering prodigious numbers of historical facts by means of\nsuch artificial contrivances. Mnemotechny, the name which he gave to his\ninvention, is merely a trick of the memory. It is a means of remembering\na particular set of facts or things by the aid of contrivances purely\nartificial and arbitrary. Its possession does not imply, and its\ncultivation does not produce, real mnemonic power. It undoubtedly has\nits uses. But it is rather wealth gained by a lottery ticket than a\nwealth-producing power acquired by wise habits of business.\n\nIn teaching the young, it is well not to neglect either of these\nprinciples. We should give our children from time to time ingenious and\ninteresting contrivances for remembering important facts. These\ncontrivances, if judicious in plan and execution, will be great helps\nto them. We may in this way bridge over the difficulty of remembering\nmany of the important facts and dates in history.\n\nI would not discourage these artificial methods. Though they are mere\ntricks, they are valuable. But they have by no means the same value as\nthose methods of teaching which cultivate and produce true mnemonic\npower. This power, like every other mental power, is given in unequal\nmeasure to different individuals. Like every other mental power, also,\nit grows mainly by exercise. No power of the mind is more capable of\ndevelopment. I have mentioned some things which tend to the growth of\nthis power, such as presenting knowledge to children in logical and\norderly arrangement, and frequent re-examination of knowledge already\nobtained. Perhaps there is no quickener and invigorator of the memory\nequal to that of reciting to a judicious teacher before a large class of\nfellow-students. By a proper and skilful use of the art of questioning,\nunder the excitement of answering before a large class, the mnemonic\npower is subjected to a healthy and invigorating test, and all such\nexercises promote powerfully the mental growth. A child may absorb\nknowledge by mere solitary reading and study, just as a sponge absorbs\nwater, but the knowledge so acquired readily evaporates, or is squeezed\nout. Something is needed to fix in the mind the knowledge that has been\nlodged there, and no process is more effectual to this end than that of\nclass recitation. It is by telling other people what we have learned,\nthat we learn it more effectually, and make it more completely our own.\nA good teacher, by good methods of recitation, can do more than all\nother persons and all other things to secure a sound and healthy growth\nof memory in the young.\n\nAnother thing highly necessary in cultivating a really good memory, is\nattaining the utmost possible clearness in our ideas. If the knowledge,\nwhen it first comes into the mind, is clearly and sharply defined, so\nthat we really know a thing, instead of having vague and confused\nnotions about it, we shall be the more likely to remember it\npermanently. Nothing is more conducive towards giving these sharp and\ndefinite impressions than the use of visible illustrations. Actual\nexhibition before a class of the objects talked about, actual\nexperiments of the operations described, and the constant use of the\nchalk and the blackboard, presenting even abstract truths in concrete\nand visible symbols, as is done in algebra, chemistry, and logic, are\namong the means by which, chiefly, knowledge becomes well defined to the\nmind. Such is the constitution of the mind, that we have a clearer\napprehension of what we see than of what comes to us through any other\nsense, and the knowledge which comes to us by means of the sight, is, of\nall kinds of knowledge, the most lasting and the most easily recalled.\nHence, in teaching, it is hardly possible to exaggerate the importance\nof visible illustration.\n\nAnother condition extremely favorable to the growth of memory, is the\nexistence of a considerable degree of mental excitement at the time that\nknowledge enters the mind. Metals weld easily only at a white heat. If\nwe would obtain a vigorous grasp of knowledge, and incorporate it\nthoroughly into our other mental products, so that it shall become\nreally ours, there should be the glow of mental heat at the time of our\nacquiring such knowledge. Ideas that come into the mind when we are in\nan apathetic state, make no permanent lodgment. Hence the importance of\nexciting a lively interest in that which is the subject of study. If the\nteacher has failed to excite this interest, and finds in his class no\nanimation, no sympathy, no eagerness of attention, he may be sure that\nhe is not accomplishing much. The child must, if possible, acquire a\nfondness for that which is to be remembered. Love, in fact, is the\nparent of memory.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\nKNOWLEDGE BEFORE MEMORY.\n\n\nI have had frequent occasion to urge upon teachers the importance of\ncultivating the memory of their pupils. The old-fashioned plan of\nrequiring the young to commit to memory precious truths, in those very\nwords in which wise and far-thinking men have handed them down to us,\nhas too much gone out of use. I have felt called upon, therefore, from\ntime to time, to recall to the minds of teachers the unspeakable\nimportance of early exercising the memory of children, and of storing\ntheir memories with wise sayings and rules. I would not take back\nanything I have said on this subject, but rather repeat and reiterate\nit. At the same time, I am aware that there is an extreme in this\ndirection, and I therefore put in a word of caution.\n\nThe danger to which I refer is that of requiring children to commit mere\nwords, to which they attach no meaning, or without their having any real\nknowledge of the things expressed by the words. Of course there is much\nin the formulas and rules of science that the immature minds of children\ncannot entirely comprehend, and I am far from saying that a child should\ncommit nothing except what it can comprehend. But whatever in a rule or\na doctrine they can understand, should be diligently explained to them,\nand the ingenuity of teachers should be exercised in awakening the minds\nof their scholars to the apprehension of real knowledge as a preliminary\nto the act of committing it to memory.\n\nAn example or two will illustrate my meaning. Children at school are\nrequired to commit to memory the tables of weights and measures. The\nexercise is one of acknowledged and indispensable importance. But it is\npossible for a child to repeat one of these tables with entire glibness\nand accuracy, pretty much as he would whistle Yankee Doodle, without any\napprehension of the actual things which the terms of the table\nrepresent. He may learn to say \"sixty seconds make a minute, sixty\nminutes make a degree, three hundred and sixty degrees make a circle,\"\nwith no more idea of the things expressed by this formula of words, than\nthe parrot who has been taught to say, \"You are a big fool.\" If the\nteacher will show the child an actual circle, with the degrees, minutes,\nand seconds marked, and will let him count them for himself, so that he\nhas a real knowledge of the things, he will then not only commit this\nformula of words to memory more easily, but the knowledge itself will\npromote his mental growth. He will be feeding on real knowledge, not on\nits husks. So in learning about inches, feet, yards, rods, and miles,\nlet the teacher, with foot-rule and yard-stick, show what these measures\nreally are, let him by some familiar instance give the child an idea of\nwhat a mile is, and then let the memory be invoked to store up the\nknowledge gained. So with ounces, pounds, and hundred-weights. So with\ngills, quarts, and gallons. The common weights and measures are as\nnecessary in the school-room as are spelling-books and arithmetics. The\nactual weights and measures, so far as possible, should be exhibited,\nshould be seen and handled, and the child's mind made to grasp the very\nthings which the terms express, that is, he should first get real\nknowledge, and then he should store his memory with it in exact words\nand forms of expression.\n\nThis is the true mental order. Knowledge first, then memory. Get\nknowledge, then keep it. Any other plan is like attempting to become\nrich by inflating your bags with wind, instead of filling them with\ngold, or attempting to grow fat by bolting food in a form which you\ncannot digest.\n\nSome teachers, in their fear of cramming children with words, spend\ntheir whole time and energy in awakening thought, and none in fixing\nupon the memory the thoughts which have been awakened. They are so much\nafraid of making children parrots, that they discard rules entirely in\nteaching, or require pupils to frame rules for themselves. This is to go\ninto the opposite extreme. The rules and formulas of science require the\ngreatest care and consideration, and a large and varied knowledge. Few\neven of men of learning and of those specially skilled in the meaning of\nwords and the use of language, are qualified to frame scientific rules\nand propositions. To suppose that young children, just beginning to feel\ntheir way into any department of science, are competent to such a task,\nis simply absurd. Yet this is by no means uncommon. A teacher will\nconduct a boy intelligently and skilfully through the process of doing a\nsum in arithmetic, or analyzing a sentence in grammar, and then say to\nhim, \"Now, form a rule for yourself, stating how such things should be\ndone.\" The first step here is right. Take your pupil by the hand, and\nconduct him through the process or thing to be done. This is necessary\nto enable him to understand the rule. But when he thus gets the idea,\nthen give him the rule or principle, as it is laid down in the book, in\nexact and well considered words, and let him commit those words\nthoroughly to memory, without the change or the omission of a word or a\nletter.\n\nWhat is thus true as to the method of teaching the common branches of\nknowledge, is equally true in the study of religious knowledge. I would\nnot set a child to framing a creed or a catechism, nor, on the other\nhand, would I require him to commit such formulas to memory, without\nmaking some attempt to awaken in his mind previously an apprehension of\nthe ideas which the creed or formula contains. I do not say that a\nchild's mind is competent to grasp all the truths embraced in these\nsymbols. But there is no portion of any religious creed or catechism\nthat I have ever seen, some of the terms of which are not capable of\nbeing apprehended by children. A wise teacher, in undertaking to\nindoctrinate a child in such a formula, will begin by showing him as far\nas possible what the words mean, by exciting in him ideas on the\nsubject, by filling his mind with actual knowledge of the truths\ncontained in the formula. Then, when the words of the formula have\nbecome to the child's mind instinct with meaning and life, the teacher\nwill pause to stamp them in upon the memory. That is the way to study a\ncatechism. First, give the child, so far as possible, the meaning, then\ngrind the words into him. Do not set him to making a catechism; do not\nlet him stop at understanding the meaning, without committing the words.\n\nTwo phrases will cover the whole ground. Knowledge before memory. Memory\nas well as knowledge.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\nTHE POWER OF WORDS.\n\n\nWords govern the world. Let any one who doubts it, canvass the motives\nby which his own action is decided. Considerations are presented to his\nmind, showing him that a certain course of conduct is right, or good, or\nexpedient, or pleasant, and he adopts it. The considerations presented\nto his mind decide his action. But those considerations are in the form\nof arguments, and those arguments exist in words. The true original\npower, indeed, is in the thought. It is the thinker who generates the\nsteam. But thought unexpressed accomplishes nothing. The writer and the\nspeaker engineer it into action.\n\nThought, indeed, even in the mind of its originator, exists in words.\nFor we really think only in words. Much more, then, must the thought\nhave some verbal expression, written or spoken, before it can influence\nthe opinions or the actions of others. A man may have all the wisdom of\nSolomon, yet will he exercise no influence upon human affairs unless he\ngives his wisdom utterance. Profound thinkers sometimes, indeed, utter\nvery little. But they must utter something. They originate and give\nforth a few thoughts or discoveries, which minds of a different order,\nwriters and talkers, pick up, reproduce, multiply, and disseminate all\nover the surface of society. When a man unites these two functions,\nbeing both an original thinker and a skilful and industrious writer, the\ninfluence which he may exert upon his race is prodigious. If any one,\nfor instance, would take the pains to trace the influences which have\nsprung from such a man as Plato, he would have an illustration of what\nis meant. Plato, while living, had no wealth, rank, or position of any\nkind, to add force to what he said or did. Whatever he has done in the\nworld, he has done simply by his power as a thinker and a writer. There\nwere many Grecians quite as subtle and acute in reasoning as he. But\ntheir thoughts died with them. Plato, on the other hand, was an\nindefatigable writer, as well as an acute and profound thinker. He gave\nutterance to his ideas in words which, even in a dead language, have to\nthis day a living power. When Plato was dead, there remained his written\nwords. They remain still. They have entered successively into the\nphilosophies, the creeds, and the practical codes, of the Grecian world,\nthe Roman, the Saracen, and the Christian. At this very hour hundreds of\nmillions of human beings unconsciously hold opinions which the words of\nthat wise old Greek have helped to mould. The mere brute force of a\nmilitary conqueror may make arbitrary changes in the current of human\naffairs. But no permanent change is ever made except by the force of\nopinion. The words of Plato have done more to influence the destinies of\nmen than have a hundred such men as Genghis Khan or Tamerlane. Four\nhundred millions of Chinese, in half the actions which go to make up\ntheir lives, are now governed by maxims and opinions which have come\ndown to them from remote antiquity, from a man whose very existence is\nalmost a myth. Those military heroes whose influence on society has been\npermanent have been propagandists as well as warriors. Opinions and\ncodes have gone with, and survived, their conquering armies. The armies\nof the elder Napoleon were routed at Waterloo. But the Napoleonic ideas\nsurvived the shock, and they are at this day a part of the governing\npower of the world. It was the Koran--the words, and the creed of\nMahomet--that gave to the Mahometan conquest its permanent hold upon the\nnations.\n\nSpoken words have in themselves greater power than merely written ones.\nThere is a wonderful influence in the living voice to give force and\nemphasis to what is uttered. But the written word remains. What is lost\nin immediate effect, is more than gained in the permanent result. The\nsuccessful writer has an audience for all time. He being dead still\nspeaks. Men are speaking now, who have gone to their final account\ntwenty centuries ago. Paul possibly may not have had the same influence\nwith a popular assembly as the more eloquent Apollos. But Paul is\nspeaking still through his ever-living Epistles. He is speaking daily to\nmore than a hundred millions of human beings. He is exerting through his\nwritings a power incomparably greater than that even which he exercised\nas a living speaker.\n\nAll men have not the commanding gifts of the apostle Paul. Yet after\nall, the main difference between ordinary men and men of the Pauline\nstamp, is not so much in their natural powers, as in the spirit and\ntemper of the men, in that entire consecration to the service of Christ\nwhich Paul had, and which they have not. It is wonderful to see how much\nmay be accomplished even by men of ordinary talents, when they have that\nzeal and single-mindedness which may be attained by one as well as by\nanother. We are accountable for the talents which we have, not for what\nwe have not. But let each man see to it that he uses to the utmost every\ntalent which his Lord has committed to his trust.\n\nHow much, for instance, may be accomplished by a man who has a gift for\naddressing a popular assembly! Such a man by a few wise words, spoken at\nthe right time and place, may do as much in five minutes, in pushing\nforward a general cause, as another man can do by the laborious drudgery\nof years. The words of the speaker touch the secret springs of action in\na thousand breasts. He sends away a thousand men and women animated with\na new impulse to duty, and that impulse is propagated and reproduced\nthrough hundreds of channels for long years to come.\n\nWords are never entirely idle. They have at times a power like that of\nthe electric bolt. They may sting like a serpent, and bite like an\nadder. In the ordinary intercourse of society, a man of good\nconversational powers may, even in discharging the customary civilities\nof life, put forth a large influence. The words dropped from minute to\nminute, throughout the day, in the millions of little transactions all\nthe while going on between man and man, have an incalculable power in\nthe general aggregate of the forces which keep society in motion.\n\nAs with spoken, so with written words. The man who knows how to weave\nthem into combinations which shall gain the popular ear, and sink into\nthe popular heart, has a mighty gift for good or evil. The self-denying\nand almost saintly Heber, by all his years of personal toil on the\nplains of India, did not accomplish a tithe of what has been\naccomplished for the cause of missions by his one Missionary Hymn. It\nwould hardly be an exaggeration to say that those few written words are\nworth more to the cause than the lives of scores of ordinary\nmissionaries. How many anxious souls, just wavering between a right and\na wrong decision, have been led to make the final choice, and to decide\nfor Christ, by that beautiful hymn beginning \"Just as I am, without one\nplea\"? Who can doubt that the patient invalid of Torquay, in the hour\nthat she penned those touching words, did more for the conversion of\nsinners than many a minister of the gospel has done in the course of a\nlong and laborious life? What a fund of consolation for pious hearts\nthrough all time is laid up in the hymns of that other sweet singer,\nMrs. Steele?\n\nBut as with spoken, so with written words, the great aggregate of their\nforce is not contained in these few brilliant and striking exceptions,\nbut in the millions of mere ordinary paragraphs which meet the eye from\nday to day, in the columns of the daily and weekly press, and which have\napparently but an ephemeral existence. The dashing torrent and the\nmighty river are the more noticeable objects to the casual observer. But\nit is the minute myriad drops of the rain and the dew that cause the\nreal wonders of vegetation. So these words which we read, and think we\nforget, hour by hour, all day long, are continually sinking into the\nsoil of the heart, and influencing imperceptibly the growth of the germs\nof thought. The aggregate of all these minute, unnoticed influences is\nprodigious, incalculable.\n\nWhoever can put words together wisely, either by the tongue or the pen,\nhas a precious talent, which he may not innocently lay up in a napkin.\nThe gift, like that of wealth, is not his by right of ownership, but\nonly as a steward. It is his as a means to do good for the honor of his\nLord, and the welfare of his fellow-men. As I said in the beginning of\nthese remarks, the world is governed by words. Let Christian men, by the\nindustrious use of the gifts they have received, see to it that a\ngreater proportion of this governing force in the world is contributed\nby the friends of Christ. Let them unceasingly fill up with the words of\ntruth and righteousness every accessible channel of thought and opinion,\nand thus occupy till Christ come.\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\nTHE STUDY OF LANGUAGE.\n\n\nThe study of language has ever been considered a study of high\nimportance, regarded merely as a means of intellectual cultivation.\n\nThere are obvious reasons for this. The analysis of language is the\nanalysis of thought. Resolving complex forms of speech into simple ones,\nand again combining simple expressions into those which are complex, and\ninvestigating, alternately by logic and aesthetics, the varying\nproperties of words and phrases, are operations which come nearer,\nperhaps, than any other in which we are engaged, towards subjecting\nspirit itself to the crucible of experiment. The study of grammar, the\ncomparison of languages, the translation of thought from one language to\nanother, are so many studies in logic and the laws of mind. The\nsubtleties of language arise from the very nature of that subtle and\nmysterious essence, the human mind, of which speech is the prime agent\nand medium of communication.\n\nThe class of studies under consideration bears nearly the same relation\nto the spiritual that anatomy does to the bodily part of us. It is by\nthe dissecting-knife of a keen and well-tempered logic, applied to the\nexamination of the various forms which human thought assumes, that we\nmost truly learn the very essence and properties of thought itself. It\nis this intimate, immediate, indissoluble connection and correlation\nbetween mind and language, between human thought and human speech,\nbetween the soul itself and the mould into which it is cast, that gives\nsuch importance to the general class of studies known as philological.\n\nThe study of language, more than any other study, tends to make the mind\nacute, discriminating, and exact. It tends also, in a most especial\nmanner, to fit a person to train the minds of others to acuteness,\ndiscrimination, and exactness. The person who has learned to express a\nthought with entire exactness and idiomatic propriety in two languages;\nor where, from the want of analogy between the two languages, he finds\nthis impracticable, to perceive the exact shade of difference between\nthe two expressions; who can trace historically and logically the\npresent meaning of a word from its original starting-point in reason and\nfact, and mark intelligently its gradual departures and their causes;\nwho can perceive the exact difference between words and phrases nearly\nsynonymous, and who can express that difference in terms clear and\nintelligible to others,--that person has already attained both a high\ndegree of intellectual acumen himself, and an important means of\nproducing such acumen in others.\n\nThe study of language is, in the profession of teaching, like the\nsharpening of tools in the business of the mechanic. Words are the\nteacher's tools. Human knowledge, even before it is expressed, and as it\nis laid up in the chambers of the mind, exists in words. We think in\nwords. We teach in words. We are qualified to teach only so far as we\nhave learned the use and power of words.\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\nCULTIVATING THE VOICE.\n\n\nIf we except the lower kinds of handicraft, nine-tenths of all that is\ndone in the world is done by means of the voice,--by talking. It is by\ntalking we buy and sell; by talking, the lawyer, the doctor, the\nminister, the teacher perform the chief of their functions; by talking,\nthe intercourse and machinery of life are chiefly kept in motion. As it\nwas by a word that creation was accomplished, as the worlds came into\nbeing and were moulded into shape, not by the hand, but by the omnific\nvoice of God, _saying_, \"Let there be light and there was light,\" so in\nthis lower sphere of human action, the tongue is mightier than the hand.\nThe moulding, propelling forces of society come from the use of words.\nBy words, more than by all other means, we persuade, convince, alarm,\narouse, or soothe, or whatever else leads men to action and achievement;\nand while written words are full of power, yet even these are feeble as\ncompared with spoken words, the living utterances of the human voice.\nNot only so, but the manner of speaking, the tone and quality of the\nvoice influence us quite as much as the words spoken.\n\nYet how strangely we neglect this wonderful instrument. The mechanic\nsees to it that his tools are as keen and strong as it is in the power\nof art and labor to make them. The sportsman spares no expense or care\nto have the articles that minister to his pleasure in the highest\npossible state of finish and perfection. How lavish we are in the\npurchase of instruments of music, and in keeping them properly tuned and\ncared for. Yet this most wonderful organ, the voice, which God has given\nto every one of us, and which is worth more to us than all the\ninstruments of music, all the inventions of pleasure, all the tools of\ntrade, that human skill has devised, is left for the most part in utter\nneglect, without intelligent guidance, its wonderful powers almost\ntotally uncultivated and undeveloped. We all feel the sway that a well\ncultivated and modulated voice has upon us, its power to give us\npleasure and win our assent, and yet the great majority of us neglect to\ncultivate in ourselves that which may give us such a power over others.\nWe are not oblivious of other advantages. We strive to make ourselves\nacceptable and to increase our influence, by attention to dress, by the\nadornment of our persons, and by the cultivation of our minds, by stores\nof knowledge and by accomplishments of various kinds, while the voice,\nwhich more than anything else is the direct instrument of the soul, is\ntreated with neglect.\n\nWe mumble and mutter what should come out clearly and distinctly; we\nspeak with a nasal drawl, or in a sharp key that sets all the finer\nchords of sympathy ajar; we use just so much of the vocal power that is\ngiven us as is needed to express in the faintest way our most imperative\nwants, and indolently leave all the rest of its untold and exquisite\nresources to go to waste.\n\nMrs. Siddons once made a shopkeeper turn pale with affright and\nunconsciously drop his goods upon the counter, simply by the tone in\nwhich, by way of experiment, she asked him the price of a pair of\ngloves. Undoubtedly Mrs. Siddons had natural gifts of voice which do not\nbelong to every one. But a great part of the wonderful fascination which\nshe and the other members of that remarkable family exerted, was due to\ncultivation.\n\nIf ministers of the gospel, and others who undertake to influence the\nminds of a congregation on the side of religion, would give this matter\nmore attention, they would find it very greatly to their own advantage\nand that of others. The manner in which the words of eternal life are\nread and uttered from the pulpit is often such as to kill all vitality\nout of them. It is not enough that a preacher should be a good\ntheologian, and that his sermon contain sound and valuable thoughts. The\ninfluence which they are to exert upon the people, is largely dependent\nupon the voice which gives them utterance. A competent teacher of\nelocution is quite as important a part of the machinery of a theological\nseminary, as a teacher of Hebrew. Yet, in organizing our seminaries,\nthis matter is usually entirely ignored.\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\nEYES.\n\n\nI have spoken much of blackboards, maps, pictorial cards, natural\nobjects, and apparatus of various kinds, as among the urgent wants of\nthe teacher. But there is one thing which he wants more than all these,\nand that is EYES. A good pair of eyes are to the teacher, in the\ngovernment of his school, worth more than the rod, more than any system\nof merit or demerit marks, more than keeping in after school, more than\nscolding, reporting to parents, suspension, or expulsion, more than\ncoaxing, premiums, and bribes in any shape or to any amount. The very\nfirst element in school government, as in every other government, is\nthat the teacher should know what is going on in his little kingdom, and\nfor this knowledge he needs a pair of eyes.\n\nMost teachers, it is true, seem to be furnished with this article. But\nit is in appearance only. They have something in the upper part of the\nface which looks like eyes, but every one knows that appearances are\ndeceiving. They look over a school or an assembly of any kind, and are\nvaguely conscious that things are going on wrong all around them, just\nas people sometimes grope about in a dark room filled with bats, and are\naware that something is flitting about, but they have no power of\nseeing distinctly any one object. It is amazing how little some people\nsee, who seem to have eyes.\n\nThe fact is, there is an entirely mistaken notion on this whole subject.\nHaving the eyes open, and seeing, are two distinct things. Infants have\ntheir eyes open, but they do not see anything, in the sense in which\nthat word is generally used. Light comes into those open windows, the\nmoving panorama of external nature passes before them, but distinct\nvision, which recognizes and individualizes objects, is something more\nthan a mere passive, bodily sensation. It is a mental act. It is the\nmind rousing itself into consciousness, and putting forth its powers\ninto voluntary and self-determined activity. Nothing in the history of\nchildhood is more interesting than to watch this awakening of the mind\nin infancy, to notice how the whole face brightens up when the little\nstranger first begins actually to see things.\n\nThe misfortune with many people is, that in this matter of vision they\nseem never to get beyond the condition of infancy. They go along the\nstreet, or they move about in a room, in a sort of dreamy state, their\neyes open, but seeing nothing. A teacher of this kind, no matter what\namount of disorder is going on before him, never sees any one particular\nact. He sees things in the mass, instead of seeing individual things.\nThe difference between teachers in this faculty of seeing things is more\nmarked probably than in any other quality that a man can have. Two\nteachers may stand before the same class. One will merely be aware that\nthere is a general disorder and noise throughout, being unable to\nidentify any scholar in particular as transgressing. The other will\nnotice that John is talking, that James is pulling his neighbor's hair,\nthat William is drumming on the desk with his fingers, that Andrew is\nmunching an apple, that Peter is making caricatures on his slate, and so\non.\n\nTo have this power of seeing things, it is not necessary that one should\nbe sly, or should use stealth of any kind. Knowledge gained by such mean\npractices never amounts to much, and always lowers a teacher in the\nestimation of his scholars; it weakens instead of strengthening him.\nWhatever a teacher does in the way of observation of his scholars,\nshould be done openly and aboveboard. And after all, more can be seen in\nthis way, by one who knows how, than by any of the stealthy practices\nusually resorted to. Darting the eyes about rapidly in one direction and\nanother, is not a good way to make discoveries. Seeing is accomplished,\nnot so much by the activity of the bodily organ, as by mental activity.\nThe man's mind must be awake. This in fact is the secret of the whole\nmatter. The more the face and eyes are quiet, and the mind is on the\nalert, the more a man will see. Seeing is rather a mental than a bodily\nact, though of course the bodily organ is necessary to its\naccomplishment. To be a good observer, one must maintain a quiet and\ncomposed demeanor, but be thoroughly wide awake within.\n\n\n\n\nXIII.\n\nERRORS OF THE CAVE.\n\n\nImprovement comes by comparison. One of the most profound observations\nof Bacon is that in which he remarks upon the dwarfing and distorting\ninfluence of solitariness upon the human faculties. The man who shuts\nhimself up in his own little circle of thought and action as in a cave,\nhaving no consort with his fellows, evolving all his plans from his own\nsolitary cogitation, must be more than human if he does not become\none-sided, narrow, selfish, bigoted.\n\nA like result, but not so aggravated, is produced, when a man limits his\nrange of thought and action to those of his own special calling or\nprofession; when the merchant mingles only with merchants and knows only\nmerchandise; when the teacher knows nothing but teaching and books; when\nthe medical man spends every waking hour and every active exercise of\nthought upon his healing art; when any man forgets that, in the very\nfact of his being a man at all, he is something greater and nobler than\nhe can possibly be in being merely a merchant, or teacher, or doctor, or\nlawyer, or the possessor of any other one special art or faculty.\n\nIt is true, indeed, that in order to attain to eminence in any one\ndepartment, a man must bend his main energies to that one thing; and he\nmust give to it much solitary thought and study. But no department of\naction is isolated. No interest is unconnected with other interests. No\ntruth stands alone, but forms a part in the great system of truth. Study\nor action, therefore, which is entirely isolated, must needs be dwarfed\nand distorted.\n\nA man must go occasionally out of his own sphere in order fully to\nunderstand those very things with which he is most familiar. A man must\nstudy other languages, if he would hope fully to understand his own. A\nman must study more than languages merely if he would become a perfect\nlinguist. The only way to understand arithmetic thoroughly is to study\nalgebra. A parent who has only one child, and who gives his entire and\nexclusive attention to the study of that child, in order that he may, by\na thorough understanding of its nature and disposition, be better able\nto teach and train it, will not be so likely to attain his object as he\nwould if he were to spend a portion of his time in mingling with other\nchildren and in becoming acquainted with childhood generally. A teacher\nwho should shut himself up in his own school-room, giving to it every\nmoment of his waking hours, would not be likely to benefit so largely\nhis own pupils, as if he were to spend a portion of his time in\ncommuning with other teachers and observing other methods besides his\nown. A teacher even who should mingle freely with those of his own\nprofession, and get all the benefit to be derived from observation of\nthe views and methods of other teachers, but should stop there, would\nnot yet obtain that broad, comprehensive view, even of his own calling,\nand of the duties of his own particular school-room that he might have\nif he would travel occasionally beyond the walk of books and pedagogy,\nand become acquainted with the views and methods of men in other spheres\nof life, with merchants, lawyers, and doctors, with farmers, mechanics,\nand artisans.\n\nIt is only by mingling with those outside of our own little specialty\nthat we are disenthralled from the bonds of prejudice. It is wonderful\nto see the change produced in the minds of men of different religious\ndenominations, when by any means they are thrown much into the actual\nfellowship of working together in some cause of common benevolence. How,\nwithout any argument, merely by the fact of their being brought out to a\ndifferent point of view, the relative magnitude and importance of\ncertain truths change in their estimation! The points in which\nChristians differ become so much smaller; the points in which they agree\nbecome so much larger. The little stone at the mouth of the cave no\nlonger hides the mountain in the distance.\n\nLet the teacher, the merchant, the mechanic, the banker, the lawyer, the\nminister of religion even, still remember that he is a man, and that he\ncan never reach a full and just estimate of his own position without\nsometimes going outside of it and placing himself in the position of\nother men.\n\n\n\n\nXIV.\n\nMEN OF ONE IDEA.\n\n\nThere is between the teacher and other operatives one obvious\ndifference, arising from the difference in the materials upon which\ntheir labor is bestowed. That class of laborers whose toil and skill are\nexerted in modifying the forms of matter, succeed generally in\nproportion to the narrowness of the range to which each individual's\nattention is confined. It is possible (the writer has known it to be a\nfact) for the same person to sow the flax, to pull and rot it, to break\nit, hatchel it, spin it, warp it, weave it, dye or bleach it, and\nfinally make it into clothes. I say this is _possible_, for I have seen\nit done, and I dare say many of my readers have seen the same. But how\ncoarse and expensive is such a product, compared with that in which\nevery step in the progress of production is made the subject of one\nindividual's entire and undivided attention.\n\nIf we were to go into the factories of Lowell, or into any of the\nthousand workshops which are converting Philadelphia into a great\nmanufacturing centre, we would find the manufacture of an article\napproaching perfection just in proportion to the _im_perfection (in one\nsense) of the individual workmen employed in its production. The man\nwho can make a pin-head better and cheaper than any one else, must give\nhis attention to making pin-heads only. He need not know how to point a\npin, or polish it, or cut the wire. On the contrary his skill in that\none operation increases ordinarily in proportion to his want of skill in\nothers. His perfection as a workman is in the direct ratio to his\nimperfection as a man. He operates upon matter, and the more nearly he\ncan bring his muscles and his volitions to the uniformity and the\nprecision of a mere machine--the more confined, monotonous, and\nundeviating are his operations--the higher is the price set upon his\nwork, the better is he fitted for his task.\n\nNot so the instructor of youth. The material operated on here is of a\nnature too subtle to be shaped and fashioned by the undeviating routine\nof any such mechanical operations. The process necessary to sharpen one\nintellect may terrify and confound another. The means which in one\ninstance serve to convince, serve in other cases to confuse. The\nillustration which to one is a ray of light, is to another only\n\"darkness visible.\" Mind is not, like matter, fixed and uniform in its\noperations. The workman who is to operate upon a substance so subtle and\nso varying must not be a man of _one idea_--who knows one thing, and\nnothing more. It is not true in mind, as in matter, that perfection in\nthe knowledge of one particular point is gained by withdrawing the\nattention from every other point. All truth and all knowledge are\naffiliated. The knowledge of arithmetic is increased by that of algebra,\nthe knowledge of geography by that of astronomy, the knowledge of one\nlanguage by knowing another. As no one thing in nature exists\nunconnected with other things, so no one item in the vast sum of human\nknowledge is isolated, and no person is likely to be perfectly\nacquainted with any one subject who confines his attention with\nmicroscopic minuteness to that subject. To understand thoroughly one\nsubject, you must study it not only in itself, but in its relations. To\nknow one thing well you must know very many other things.\n\nLet us return then to the point from which we set out, namely: that one\nimportant difference between the teacher and other operatives arises\nfrom the difference in the objects on which they operate. The one\noperates upon matter, the other upon mind. The one attains perfection in\nhis art by a process which in the other would produce an ignoramus, a\nbungler, a narrow-minded, conceited charlatan. Hence the necessity on\nthe part of those who would excel in the profession of teachers, of\nendeavoring continually to enlarge the bounds of their knowledge. Hence\nthe error of those who think that to teach anything well it is necessary\nto know only that one thing. That young woman who undertakes to teach a\nprimary school, or even an infant class, has mistaken her calling if she\nsupposes that because she has to teach only the alphabet or the \"table\ncard,\" she has therefore no need to know many other things. There are\nsome things which every teacher needs. Every teacher needs a cultivated\ntaste, a disciplined intellect, and that enlargement of views which\nresults only from enlarged knowledge.\n\nWe all know how much we are ourselves benefited by associating\nhabitually with persons of superior abilities. So it is in a still\nhigher degree with children. There is something contagious in the fire\nof intellect. The human mind, as well as the human heart, has a\nwonderful power of assimilation. Every judicious parent will say: Let\nnot my child be consigned to the care of an ill-informed, dull,\nspiritless teacher. Let it be his happy lot, if possible, to be under\none who has some higher ambition than merely to go through a certain\nprescribed routine of duties and lessons; one whose face beams with\nintelligence and whose lips drop knowledge; one who can cultivate in him\nthe disposition to inquire, by his own readiness and ability to answer\nchildish inquiries; who can lead the inquiries of a child into proper\nchannels, and train him to a correct mode of thinking by being himself\nfamiliar with the true logical process, by having himself a cultivated\nunderstanding. Such a teacher finds a pleasure in his task. He finds\nthat he is not only teaching his pupils to read and to spell, to write\nand to cipher, but he is acquiring an ascendancy over them. He is\nexerting upon them a moral and intellectual power. He is leaving, upon a\nmaterial far more precious than any coined in the Mint, the deep and\ninerasible impress of his own character.\n\nLet me repeat then, at the risk of becoming tiresome, what I hold to be\nan important and elementary truth, that the teacher should know very\nmany things besides what he is required to teach. A good knowledge of\nhistory will enable him to invest the study of geography with new\ninterest. Acquaintance with algebra will give a clearness to his\nperceptions, and consequently to his mode of inculcating the principles,\nof arithmetic. The ability to delineate off-hand with chalk or pencil\nthe forms of objects, gives him an unlimited power of illustrating every\nsubject, and of clothing even the dullest with interest. Familiarity\nwith the principles of rhetoric and with the rules of criticism, gives\nat once elegance and ease to his language, and the means of more clearly\ndetecting what is faulty in the language of others. A knowledge of Latin\nor of French, or of any language besides his own, throws upon his own\nlanguage a light of which he before had no conception. It produces in\nhis ideas of grammar and of language generally, a change somewhat like\nthat which the anatomist experiences from the study of comparative\nanatomy. The student of the human frame finds many things that he cannot\ncomprehend until he extends his inquiries to other tribes of animals; to\nthe monkey, the ox, the reptile, the fish, and even to the insect world.\nSo it is with language. We return from the study of a foreign language\ninvariably with an increased knowledge of our own. We have made one step\nat least from the technicalities of particular rules towards the\nprinciples and truths of general grammar.\n\nBut it is not necessary to multiply illustrations. I have already said\nenough to explain my meaning. Let me say, then, to every teacher, as you\ndesire to rise in your profession, as you wish to make your task\nagreeable to yourself or profitable to your pupils, do not cease your\nstudies as soon as you gain your election, but continue to be a learner\nas long as you continue to be a teacher, and especially strive by all\nproper means, and at all times, to enlarge the bounds of your\nknowledge.\n\n\n\n\nXV.\n\nA TALENT FOR TEACHING.\n\n\nThere can be no doubt that some persons have a natural aptitude for\nteaching. As there are born poets, so there are born teachers. Yet the\nman born with the true poetic temperament and faculty will never achieve\nsuccess as a poet, unless he add study and labor to his natural gift. So\nthe man born with a talent for teaching needs to cultivate the talent by\npatient study and practice, before he can become a thoroughly\naccomplished teacher. No man probably ever showed greater native\naptitude for anything, than did Benjamin West for painting. Yet what\nlong years of toil and study it took for him to become a really great\npainter? In teaching, as in every other profession, while men doubtless\ndiffer as to their original qualifications and aptitudes, yet the\ndifferences are not so great as they are often supposed to be, and they\nare by no means so great as those produced by study and practice. The\nman who has no special gift for this employment, but who faithfully and\nintelligently tries to perfect himself in it, is sure to be a better\nteacher than the one who has the natural gift, but adds to it no special\nstudy and preparation. Indeed, if we exclude from consideration those\nvery nice and delicate touches in education, which are so rare as to be\nquite exceptional, there is nothing in the business of teaching which\nmay not be acquired by any person of average ability.\n\nWhen, therefore, we see a teacher not succeeding in gaining the\nattention of his scholars, or in securing obedience and respect, or in\nbringing them forward in their lessons, we are not disposed to free such\na person from blame on the plea of his having no natural aptitude for\nteaching. We would respectfully say to such a teacher: if you know not\nhow to impart knowledge, learn how; if you have no tact, get it.\nTeaching is a business, as much as knitting stockings, or planting corn.\nEither do not undertake to teach at all, or learn how it is to be done.\n\nIf one-fourth of the labor bestowed upon the work of teaching were\ndevoted to studying the business, the value of the remaining\nthree-fourths would be quadrupled. It is painful to see the amount of\nhard work done in school with so little proportionate effect. If a man\nwho knew nothing of farming, but who had a desire to be useful, were to\ndig a pit and bury therein a bushel of corn, and imagine that he was\nplanting, his labor would not be wider of the mark than much that is\nbestowed in school. A man must learn how to do even so simple a thing as\nplanting corn. Let the teacher also learn how to plant the seeds of\nknowledge, how to prepare the soil, how to open it for the reception of\ntruth, where and when to deposit the precious grains.\n\nI have no desire to discourage those faithful men and women who are so\nnobly striving to do good as teachers. But I cannot help expressing the\nregret that so much of this labor is without adequate result. Why\nshould persons act so differently in this matter from what they do in\nany other? If a woman wants to make a pair of stockings, she goes to\nsome other woman who understands knitting, and sees how it is done, and\nlearns the stitches, tries and experiments, and studies the matter,\nuntil it is all familiar to her. So of any other ordinary business. Yet\nwhen it comes to teaching, anything like definite study or observation\nof the mode of doing it, is almost unknown! It is really no exaggeration\nto say that many teachers bungle in their work as egregiously as would a\nwoman who should put yarn into a churn, and expect, after a proper\namount of churning, to draw out stockings.\n\nIn our schools are many professional teachers of approved skill. Why\nshould not a school-teacher, who is conscious of not succeeding as he\nwould desire, spend an hour occasionally in observation? Find out the\nname of some teacher who is particularly successful, and look on while\nthe work is being done, and if possible see how it is done.\n\nThen again, there are books on the subject, in which the business of\nteaching is explained in all its branches. Get some of these books and\nread. The mere reading will not make you teachers. But it will set you\nto thinking. It will quicken your power of observation. It will help you\nto learn from your own experience.\n\nMake a note of the difficulties you encounter, and the points in which\nyou cannot accomplish what you desire. Very likely you will find these\nvery difficulties discussed in the books on teaching which you are\nreading. If not, lay your difficulties before some friend who is a\nsuccessful teacher, and get advice. _Anything_, rather than going on,\nweek after week, without improvement. There _is_ a way of interesting\nyour class in their lessons, of securing good order and punctual\nattendance, of making the scholars learn. Only make up your mind that\nyou will find out what that way is. If you think it cannot be done, of\ncourse it will not be done. If you have fairly made up your mind that it\n_may_ be done, and that _you_ can do it, it is half done already.\n\nYou have no idea how much more pleasant the work will be, when you have\nonce learned how to do it. One reason why so many teachers desert the\nranks, is the irksomeness produced by want of success. Few things are\nmore intolerable than being obliged to do a thing while conscious of\ndoing it in an awkward and bungling manner. On the other hand, almost\nany work is a pleasure, which one is conscious of doing well.\n\n\n\n\nXVI.\n\nTEACHING POWER.\n\n\nTeachers differ greatly in their ability to bring a class forward in\nintellectual acquisition and growth. With one teacher pupils are all\nlife and energy, they take hold of difficulties with courage, their\nideas become clear, their very power of comprehension seems to gather\nstrength. With another teacher, those same pupils, studying the same\nsubject, are dull, heavy, easily discouraged, and make almost no\nprogress. The ability thus to stimulate the intellectual activity of\nothers, to give it at once momentum and progress, is the true measure of\none's teaching power. It may be well to consider for a moment some of\nthe conditions necessary to the existence and the exercise of this\npower.\n\nIn the first place, we can exert no great, commanding influence over\nothers, whether pupils or not, unless we have in a high degree their\nconfidence. Pupils must have faith in their teacher. I never knew an\ninstance yet, where there was great intellectual ferment going on in a\nclass, that the pupils did not believe the teacher infallible, or very\nnearly so. This principle of confidence in leadership is one of the\ngreat moving powers of the world. In teaching, it is specially\nimportant. This feeling may indeed be in excess. It may exist to such\nan extent as to extinguish all independence of thought, to induce a\nblind, unquestioning receptivity. Such an extreme is of course opposed\nto true mental progress. But short of this extreme point, there is\nalmost no amount of faith that children can have in their teacher, that,\nif well founded, is not of the highest advantage. Seeing the firm,\nassured tread of father or mother, or of an older brother or sister, is\na great aid to the tottering little one in putting forth its own steps\nwhile learning to walk. So the child is emboldened to send out its\nyoung, unpractised thoughts, by the confidence it has in the guidance\nand protection of its teacher. To acquire and retain the proper\nascendancy over the mind of a child, two things are essential, ample\nknowledge and entire honesty. Shallowness and pretension may mislead for\na while. But to hold a child firmly and permanently, the teacher must\nabound in knowledge, and must have thoroughly honest convictions.\n\nThe next condition to great teaching power is confidence in one's self.\nA timid, irresolute, hesitating utterance of one's own convictions fails\nto produce conviction in the minds of others. I do not recommend\nself-conceit. It is not necessary to be dogmatic. Yet a certain style of\nself-assertion, bordering very closely upon these qualities, is needed\nin the teacher. In the higher regions of science and opinion, there are\nof course many points about which no one, at least no one well informed,\nwould undertake to speak with authority. Such subjects it becomes us all\nto approach with reverent humility, as at the best only inquirers after\ntruth. But the case is very different with teachers of the common\nbranches concerned in our present remarks. On these points the teacher\nought to have a certainty and a readiness of knowledge, so as to be\nthoroughly self-reliant before the class. Teaching is like fighting.\nSelf-reliance is half the battle.\n\nEqually important with the former is it to have the affection of one's\npupils. Writers on metaphysics now-a-days dwell much, and very properly,\non the influence of the body upon the mind, and the necessity of a\nhealthy condition of the former in order to the full clearness and\nstrength of our intellectual apprehensions. There is a still more\nintimate connection between our moral emotions and our mental action.\nThe wish is father to the thought, in more senses than that intended by\nShakspeare. If the intellect is the seeing power of the soul, the\naffections are the atmosphere through which we look. The same object may\nappear to us very differently, as it is seen through the colorless\nmedium of pure intellectual perception, or as it is enlarged and\nglorified by the mellowing haze of fond affection, or as it is distorted\nand obscured by the mists of prejudice and hate. When a child has a\nthorough dislike for a subject or for his teacher, the difficulty of\nlearning is very greatly increased. Not only is the willingness to study\nweak or wanting, but the very power of mental perception seems to be\nobstructed. The power of attention, the power of apprehension, the power\nof memory, the power of reasoning, are all paralyzed by dislike, and are\nequally vitalized by love and desire. Mental action, in short, is\ninfluenced by the state of the heart as much as by the state of the\nbody. If you do not expect great mental efforts from a child that is\nsickly, burning with fever, or racked with pain, neither may you expect\nthe best and highest results from one whose heart is diseased and\nalienated, who approaches a subject with feelings of aversion and\ndislike, whose conceptions are clouded with prejudice.\n\nA teacher of great intellectual force, and with an overbearing will, may\npush forward even a reluctant and a rebellious class with a certain\ndegree of speed. On the other hand, a teacher who enjoys the unbounded\nlove of his scholars, may accomplish comparatively little, on account of\nlacking the other qualities needed for success. The highest measure of\nsuccess in teaching is attained only where these several conditions\nmeet,--where the teacher has and deserves the full confidence of the\nscholars, where he has full confidence in himself, is self-reliant and\nself-asserting, and where at the same time he has the warm affection of\nhis pupils. Love, after all, is the governing power of the human soul,\nas it is the crowning grace in the Christian scheme. Love is, in\nteaching, what sunshine and showers are in vegetation. By a system of\nforcing and artificial culture, the gardener may indeed produce a few\nhot-house plants, but for all great or general results, he must look to\nthe genial operations of nature.\n\n\n\n\nXVII.\n\nGROWING.\n\n\nChildren often use the term \"grown-up people.\" By it they mean persons\nwho have come to the age of twenty, or twenty-one, and whose bodily\ngrowth is complete. But there are other kinds of growth, besides that of\nthe body.\n\nWhat is a \"grown-up\" _teacher_? It is not difficult, certainly, to find\nsome, in every locality, to whom this term could _not_ be applied, with\nany propriety. They have been engaged for years in the work, and yet\nthey are the merest babes. They have no more skill than when they first\ntook a class in hand. When a boy begins to use a penknife, he is very\nawkward. He cuts himself about as often as he cuts the stick. After a\nwhile, however, he learns to manage the matter better. He finds out how\nto handle the curious instrument with skill and even with elegance. But\nyou will see teachers, so called, who seem never to make any of this\nprogress in their work. They have no more idea now, than they had when\nthey gave their first lesson, of what they must do to secure attention\nand silence, how they must manage to keep all the children busy, how to\nsecure good attendance, or study of the lesson, how to gain affection\nand confidence, how to enforce order and obedience, how to do anything,\nexcept to sit, book in hand, and ask the questions one after the other\nround the class, and see that John, George, and James severally say the\nanswers correctly. This is the idea of teaching with which they begin,\nand they make no progress towards anything better. They acquire no\nskill. They make no growth. They are \"grown-up\" bodily. But in all that\npertains to teaching, they are still babes. They whittle as awkwardly\nand unskilfully as when the delicate instrument was first put into their\nclumsy fingers. They go on from year to year and learn nothing.\n\nSome persons are born teachers, just as some are born poets or\nmechanics. That is, they are gifted with a natural aptitude for that\nparticular work. But those most gifted by nature, are capable of\nimprovement, and those having least natural gifts for teaching, may\nacquire a certain and a very considerable amount of skill, by proper\nobservation and study. The point which I wish to make, and which I deem\nimportant, is, that teachers should not rest content with their present\nqualifications, whatever they may be, whether large or small. Let it be\nthe aim of every one to be a growing teacher. We come short, if we are\nnot better teachers this year than we were last. We should aim and\nresolve to be better teachers next year than we are now. Our education\nas teachers should never be considered as finished. Forgetting the\nthings which are behind, let us ever press forward. Let us constantly\naim upward. Skill in teaching admits of infinite degrees, and no one\nwill ever be perfect in it. Efforts at improvement, if persistently\nfollowed up, are always rewarded with success, and success in such a\nwork brings a most sweet recompense. What satisfaction is equal to that\nof feeling that one is steadily increasing in the power of guiding and\nmoulding the minds of others? Growing skill in anything, even in works\nrequiring mechanical ingenuity, brings joy to the mind. How much more\nintense and pure the joy, when there is a consciousness of growth in\nthis higher department of mental power?\n\nWill the teacher, who reads these paragraphs, consider the matter? Are\nyou, as a teacher, growing? or are you working on in dull content in the\nsame old routine? On your answer to these questions depend very largely,\nnot only the welfare of your scholars and the amount of good you will\nachieve, but your own happiness and satisfaction in your work. The\nartist, who produces some great work of genius, has his reward not\nmerely in the dollars which it may bring to his coffer, but in the\ninward satisfaction which successful achievement produces. The true\nartist is always struggling towards some unattainable ideal, and his joy\nis proportioned to the nearness of his approach to the imagined\nperfection. So in proportion as we approach in skill the great Teacher,\nwill be our joy in the work itself, apart from our joy in the results.\n\nTo be a growing teacher requires a distinct aim to this end, and a\nresolute and persistent effort. It does not come by chance. It is not a\nweed that springs up spontaneously, and matures without culture. It is\nnot the fruit of mere wishing. There must be _will_, A DETERMINED AND\nRESOLUTE WILL. Rules and theories will not accomplish it. There are\nbooks and essays in abundance on the art and practice of teaching. But\nback of means we must have, first of all, the propelling power. Have you\nmade up your mind to be stationary, or have you resolved to go forward?\nWill you remain in the wilderness, or will you advance into the promised\nland and take possession? Are you a deliberate, predetermined, contented\ndwarf, or will you resolutely grow? You may never become a giant, but do\nnot remain an infant.\n\nIf there is any one duty of the teacher more imperative than another, it\nis that of continued, persistent self-improvement. No element of\nprogress is so efficient as a wholesome discontent. \"I count not myself\nto _have_ attained,\" says the great apostle of progress. To sit down\nself-satisfied with present attainments is in itself a sign that you\nhave not yet risen much. It is to belong to the owls and the bats of the\nlower valleys. One must already have ascended to lofty heights before he\ncan even see the higher Alps towering beyond.\n\nThe teacher who would improve must, in a good sense, be restless. He\nmust bestir himself. He must study and read and experiment, attend\nteachers' meetings and conventions, and take teachers' papers, and find\nout what other teachers are doing and have done, ever remembering that\nimprovement comes mainly by comparison.\n\n\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nLOVING THE CHILDREN.\n\n\nSome teachers make the mistake of supposing that a love for the work and\na love for the children are one and the same thing. The two things are\ncertainly separable in thought, and they are often actually separated in\naction. It is of some importance to teachers to remember the difference.\n\nWe see persons every day struggling with all their might to accomplish\ncertain results. They have certain ideas which they wish to realize,\ncertain theories which they wish to verify. To bring about these\nresults, is a matter of pride with them. So that the end is gained, the\nmeans to be used are a matter of comparative indifference. Their heart\nis set on the result, they care nothing for the machinery by which it is\nbrought about. Now, so long as the work is of a nature which requires\nonly the use of mechanical powers, or of mere brute force, it is all\nvery well. The sculptor need not fall in love with the block of marble\non which he is working, in order to realize from it the conception of\nhis mind. The engine which carries us thirty miles an hour towards the\ngoal of our desires, will not speed us more or less for not being an\nobject of our affections. But every man has a natural and proper\ndislike to becoming a mere machine for carrying out the schemes of\nothers. Children especially revolt at being treated in this way. If a\nteacher takes the charge of a class or of a school, for the purpose of\nshowing to himself or to others how certain things may be done, the\nchildren are quick to find it out, and to resent it. No child, however\nhumble or obscure, but feels indignant at being considered as a mere\npawn upon a chess-board, or a mere wheel or pulley in some complicated\npiece of machinery. Every individual child is to itself the centre of\nall human interests, and if you are to have any real and abiding\ninfluence upon him, he must first feel that you have a regard for\nhimself, in his own proper person, independently of any schemes or plans\nof your own.\n\nYou may love to see your children all present punctually, to see them\nmaking a good appearance, and by their orderly behavior and manners\nhelping forward the school generally; you may love the work of teaching\nas giving you honorable and useful occupation. But something more than\nthis is wanting. _You must love the children._ You must love each\nparticular child. You must become interested in each child, not for what\nit is to you, or to the class, or to the school, but for what it is in\nitself, as a precious jewel, to be loved and admired, for those immortal\nqualities and capacities which belong to it as a human being. No matter\nhow degraded or depraved or forbidding in appearance that child may be,\nit has qualities which, if brought out, may make it more glorious than\nan angel. If Jesus loved him, you may love him. Jesus did not stand off\nat a distance from the loathsome and filthy leper, while performing the\nmiracle of healing. He first \"_touched_\" the leper, and said, \"Be thou\nclean.\" We are sometimes too fastidious in our benevolence, and shrink\ntoo much from coming into contact with those whom we would befriend.\n\nLittle real influence is ever produced upon any human being, without\ncreating between you and him a bond of sympathy. If we would work\nstrongly and efficiently upon the minds of children, we must really love\nthem, not in the abstract, not in a general way, but concretely and\nindividually. We must love John and William and Mary and Susie, simply\nand purely because he or she is, in himself or herself alone, an object\nof true interest and affection. In looking over a school, it is not\ndifficult to discover at a glance which teachers thus love their\nchildren. It speaks in every word from the lips. It beams in every look\nfrom the eyes. It thrills in every tone of the voice. It has a language\nin the very touch of the hand and the movements of the person.\n\nSome persons are naturally more fond of children than others are. But\nthose not naturally thus inclined may cultivate the disposition. They\n_must_ do so if they mean to be teachers. No one is fitted to be a\nteacher, who has not learned to sympathize with the real wants and\nfeelings of children. Pretence here is all wasted. Shams may do with\ngrown persons sometimes, never with children. They have an instinctive\nperception of what is genuine and what is pretended, in professed love\nfor them. In fact, the way to win the affection of a child is to love\nhim, not to make professions of love.\n\nIt is not always the easiest thing in the world to exercise this love. A\nteacher may have the charge of a class of children whose appearance,\nmanners, and dispositions are exceedingly forbidding, perhaps even\nloathsome. Yet observation and study will ordinarily discover some good\nquality even in the worst and most degraded. A talent for discovering\nwhat is good in a child is much more important in the work of elevating\nhim, than the smartness at detecting and exposing his tricks, in which\nsome teachers take pride. It is a bad sign, though not an uncommon one,\nto see evidences of cunning in a teacher. Better by far to be outwitted\nand duped occasionally, than to forfeit that character of perfect\nsincerity and straightforwardness which secures the confidence of a\nchild. The teacher who would love his children, particularly if he\nhappens to have been entrusted with an unpromising class, must learn to\nwear the spectacles of charity. He must cultivate the habit of seeing\nthings in their best light. While not blind to faults, he must be prompt\nand eagle-eyed to spy out every indication of good. Above all, he must\nremember that no human soul, however degraded, is without some elements\nand possibilities of good, for whom there is the possibility that Christ\ndied.\n\n\n\n\nXIX.\n\nGAINING THE AFFECTIONS OF THE SCHOLARS.\n\n\nThe importance of this point is not to be measured by the mere\ngratification it affords. It adds undoubtedly to the happiness of the\nteacher in his work, to know that his scholars love him. Nor is this a\nsmall consideration. The teacher has many vexatious rubs. He encounters\nmuch toil and self-denial; and whatever tends to mitigate these\nasperities, and to make his labor sweet, is for that very reason\nimportant. The teacher has, for a part at least of his reward, the\nenjoyment of a love as pure and unselfish as any known upon earth. He\nwill doubtless go forward in duty, even where he fails of obtaining this\nprecious foretaste of the heavenly bliss, and he has doubtless higher\naims than any arising from mere gratification, of whatever sort. Yet a\nboon so great is not to be despised or ignored. The ardent love which\nscholars sometimes give to their teachers is a high gratification, and\nsomething to be greatly prized for the mere pleasure it gives.\n\nAnd yet, after all, this is not its main value. The fact that children\nlove their teacher, gives to the teacher almost unbounded influence over\nthem. There is hardly a point, necessary to the success of a school or\nof a class, that scholars will not readily yield to a teacher whom they\nlove. By this silken cord they can be drawn whithersoever the teacher\nwills. To please teacher, they will attend regularly, will come\npunctually, will be quiet and orderly, will learn their lessons, will be\nattentive to instruction. More than all this, many a child, by the love\nof an earthly friend, has been led to the love of his heavenly Friend.\nThe young heart is opened to receive the Saviour, by the warmth of its\nlove for one who so manifestly bears his image. Perhaps there is no one,\nnot even excepting a mother, who can so easily bring the young to the\nSaviour, as the teacher who has thoroughly succeeded in winning his\nscholars' affections.\n\nThere is another consideration in this matter, not so weighty as the one\nnamed, yet of great importance, and the more worthy to be named, because\nit is generally not rightly understood. I refer to the fact that\nchildren will learn so much more readily under a teacher whom they love.\nNot only will they study better, and be more attentive, for the sake of\npleasing their teacher, but by some mysterious process of the mind, love\nhelps us to understand, as dislike disturbs and beclouds the\nunderstanding. When a child has a dislike or prejudice or ill-feeling of\nany kind against a teacher, or a subject of study, the effect upon the\nmind of the child is like that produced upon a spring of pure and\nsparkling water by stirring up the mud and sediment from the bottom. In\nthe human organization the heart is at the bottom, and disturbing\ninfluences there cause us to see things through an impure medium. The\ncalmness and serenity, produced by perfect love and trust, are the\nproper conditions for the right and best working of the understanding.\nWe must get the heart right if we would see truth clearly, and that\nteacher who has won the love of his scholars has done much towards\nmaking the path of knowledge easy for them.\n\nLet the teacher, then, aim to win the love of his scholars, first,\nbecause this love is in itself a boon to which the teacher has a\nrightful claim; secondly, because it gives him a powerful influence in\nmoulding the character and habits of the children, and especially in\nbringing them to the Saviour; and, thirdly, because it helps the\nscholars intellectually, enabling them to understand better and to learn\nfaster.\n\nBut how is this love to be gained?\n\nAssuredly, _not_ by demanding it as a right, or by fretting,\ncomplaining, or scolding because your scholars do not love you. Love\nonly is the price for love. If you wish your scholars to love you, you\nmust first love them, not pretend to do it,--children are quick to see\nthrough such pretences,--but really and truly love them.\n\nMany teachers, however, sincerely love their scholars, and yet do not\nsucceed in winning their affections. Something in their manner and\nappearance is repulsive. There is in the face of some good people a hard\nand forbidding look, at which the heart takes alarm and retires within\nitself. The young heart, like the young buds in spring-time, requires an\natmosphere of warmth and sunshine. If we would draw forth their warm\naffections towards us, we must not only feel love towards them in our\nhearts, but we must wear sunshine in our faces. A pleasant smile, a\nloving word, a soft, endearing tone of the voice, goes a great way with\na child, especially where it is not put on, but springs from a loving\nheart.\n\nSome teachers in avoiding this hard, repulsive manner, run to the\nopposite extreme, and lose the respect of their scholars by undue\nfamiliarity. Children do not expect you to become their playmate and\nfellow, before giving you their love and confidence. Their native\ntendency is to look up. They yearn for repose upon one superior to\nthemselves. Only, when the tender heart of youth thus looks up, let it\nnot be into a region filled with clouds and cold, but into a sky\neverywhere pervaded with a clear, steady, warm sunlight. Let there be no\nfrown upon your brow, no harsh or angry word upon your lips, no exacting\nsternness in your eye. Let the love which you feel in your heart beam\nforth naturally and spontaneously in loving looks and words, and you\nneed not fear but that you will meet with a response.\n\n\n\n\nXX.\n\nTHE OBEDIENCE OF CHILDREN.\n\n\nThere is much misapprehension as to the true nature of obedience.\nWherein does obedience really consist? What is its essence?\n\nMerely doing a specified act, which has been required, is not\nnecessarily an act of obedience. A father may have a rule of his\nhousehold that the children shall rise in the morning at five o'clock. A\nson who habitually disregards this rule, may rise at the appointed time\non a particular morning, in order to join a companion on a fishing\nexcursion, or for some object connected solely with his own pleasure and\nconvenience. Here the external act is the one required. He rises at the\nhour enjoined by his father's command. But his doing so has no reference\nto his father's wishes. It is not in any sense an act of obedience.\nSomething more than mere external compliance with a rule or a command is\nneeded to constitute obedience. In other words, not only the act itself\nmust be the one required, but the motive must be right.\n\nIf I am led to do what my father or my mother requires, by mere dint of\ncoaxing, or by the expectation of cakes or pennies or promised\nindulgence of any kind, if it is a bargain, in which I give so much\ncompliance for so much per contra of self-gratification, the compliance\nrendered is not an act of obedience. As well might a man profess to obey\nhis neighbor, because he gives him a bag of oats for a bag of corn. A\ngreat deal of what passes for obedience in families and schools, is mere\nbarter. Strip the matter of all glosses and disguises, and the naked\ntruth remains, that children are hired to do what the parent or the\nteacher wants to have done. They do not obey, in any legitimate and\nwholesome use of the word. They are quiet when they should be quiet,\nthey learn the lessons which they should learn, they abstain from\nwhatever things they should abstain from, because they have learned that\nthis is the only way to gain the indulgences which they desire. The\nparent and the teacher use a motive adequate to secure the outward act,\nbut they do not secure obedience.\n\nIt is not obedience for a child to do a thing because his reason and\nconscience tell him that the act in itself, without reference to his\nparents' wishes, is right and proper. At least it is not filial\nobedience. I may be obeying my conscience, but I am not obeying my\nfather. Many parents, who are above the weakness of bribing their\nchildren, satisfy themselves by reasoning with them. Far be it from us\nto say a word against any legitimate appeal to the reason and conscience\nof a child. Children, at the proper age, should be taught to reason and\nto judge for themselves, in regard to the right and wrong of actions,\njust as they should learn to walk alone, and not be forever dependent\nupon leading strings. Only, let it be understood that just so far as the\nchild acts on its own independent judgment, the act is not one of filial\nobedience.\n\nObedience is doing a thing because another, having competent authority,\nhas enjoined it. The motive necessary to constitute any act an act of\nobedience, is a reference to the will and authority of another. It is\nsubmission of our will to the will of another. The child receives as\ntrue what his parents say, and because they say it; so, he does as right\nwhat they command, and because they command it. That fact is, and in the\nfirst instance it should be, to the child's mind, the ultimate and\nsufficient reason for either believing or doing--for faith or obedience.\nThis faith and obedience rendered to my earthly father, which is only\npartial and temporary, besides serving its own immediate ends, in\nsecuring a well-ordered household and my own best interests as a child,\nhas the further end of training me for that unqualified faith and\nobedience, which I am to render to my heavenly Father, and which is of\nuniversal and permanent obligation. One object of the parental relation\nseems to be to fit the soul for this higher obedience. I must, however,\nlearn to obey my father simply because he is my father, and because as\nsuch he has the right to command me, if thereby I am to learn, for a\nlike reason, to obey my heavenly Father. No lower motive will secure the\nend.\n\nSubmission to parental authority is not always the instinctive impulse\nof childhood. Where this submission is not yielded, it must be enforced.\nAuthority, in other words, requires sanctions. The father has no right\nto command, unless he has the right to punish in case of disobedience.\nFurthermore, if he does not, especially in the early childhood of his\noffspring, train them to a habit of real obedience and submission to\nauthority, he does his children a great wrong. He deprives them of the\nbenefit of that habit of obedience, which will be of the utmost value to\nthem in their future religious life.\n\nA man forbids his child to eat green apples. The child abstains. That\nabstinence is not necessarily an act of obedience.\n\nHe may abstain because his mother offers, in case of his doing so, to\ngive him sugar-plums, and he prefers the sugar-plums to the apples. This\nis not obedience.\n\nOr, his reason and experience may have taught him that the eating of\ngreen fruit will cause him sickness and pain, and so he abstains for the\nsame reasons that his father, mother, or anybody else does. This is not\nobedience.\n\nBut children often have not the forethought to look at remote\nconsequences, or they have not the strength of purpose to deny a present\ngratification for the sake of a distant good, and especially for a good\nof which they have only a vague idea through the representations of\ntheir parents or teachers. Suppose such a case. Suppose a child with a\nstrong inclination and desire for the thing forbidden, and with no clear\napprehension that there is anything wrong or hurtful in the indulgence,\nexcept in the fact that the father has forbidden it, and with no\ntemptation of a higher indulgence as a reward for abstaining. If, in\nsuch a case, the child abstains, he performs a true act of obedience. He\nreally subjects his will to the will of his father.\n\nThis kind of implicit obedience is greatly needed. It is to be secured\njust as our heavenly Father secures obedience to some of his laws. If a\nchild thrusts his finger into the candle, he violates a law, and he\ninstantly suffers for it. We are surrounded by many such laws, without\nthe observance of which we could not live a day. To teach us obedience\nto these laws, the penalty of transgression is immediate and sharp.\nThere are other laws of our physical well-being, the penalties of which\nare remote, and in regard to those we have room for the exercise and\ncultivation of our reasoning powers. Now in childhood, there are many\nthings which a child should be taught to forbear doing as promptly as he\nforbears to thrust his hand into the fire. Yet for these things there is\nno natural penalty. Here the command of the parent should be interposed,\nand transgression should be promptly followed by penalty. The authority\nof the parent and the penalties by which he sustains it, guide the child\nduring those years when reason and the power of self-denial are weak.\nBut to make this discipline easy and effective, there should be no\nhesitation or uncertainty about the exercise of it. Parents often have\nto strain their authority, and use very largely their right of\npunishment, because they are so unequal and irregular in their methods\nof government. A child soon ceases to thrust his finger into the fire.\nFire is not a thing which burns one day, and may be safely tampered with\nthe next. So, if disobedience, invariably and promptly, without passion\nor caprice, and with the uniformity of a law of nature, brings such a\npenalty as to make the disobedience painful, there will be little\ntransgression and little need of punishment. A child does not fret\nbecause he cannot play with fire. He will not fret because he cannot\ntransgress a father's direct command, if he once knows that such\ncommands _must_ be obeyed.\n\n\n\n\nXXI.\n\nRAREY AS AN EDUCATOR.\n\n\nParents, teachers, and all who are charged with the duty of training the\nyoung, may learn important lessons from the example of the late Mr.\nRarey. The principles on which the horse is rendered obedient and docile\ndo not differ essentially from those to be employed in the government of\nchildren or of men.\n\nSome of the accounts of Mr. Rarey's system, however, which have been\npublished, are liable to mislead, and to foster a mischievous error. His\nprocedure was eminently kind and gentle. The horse became fully assured\nthat no harm was intended towards him. This conviction is essential to\nsuccess in securing a perfect and willing obedience, whether from brute\nor human. But the distinctness with which this feature of the treatment\nwas brought out in Mr. Rarey's exhibitions, led some apparently to think\nthat this was the main, if not the only feature. Kindness alone,\nhowever, will not tame, and will not govern, brutes or men. There must\nbe power. There must be, in the mind of the party to be governed, a full\nconviction that the power of the other party is superior to his\nown--that there is, in the party claiming obedience, an ample reserve of\npower fully adequate to enforce the claim. The more complete this\nconviction is, the less occasion there will be for the exercise of the\npower. The most headstrong horse, once convinced that he is helpless in\nthis contest of strength, and convinced at the same time that his master\nis his friend, may be led by a straw.\n\nMr. Rarey went through various preliminary steps, the object of which\nwas to make the horse acquainted with him, and to prevent fright or\npanic. But obedience was not claimed, and was not given, until there had\nbeen a demonstration of power--until the horse was convinced that the\nman was entirely too much for him. By a very simple adjustment of straps\nto the forefeet of the animal, he became perfectly helpless in the hands\nof his tamer. The struggle, indeed, was sometimes continued for a good\nwhile. The horse put forth his prodigious strength to the utmost. He\nbecame almost wild at the perfect ease and quietude with which all his\nefforts were baffled, until at length, fully satisfied that further\nstruggles were useless, he made a complete surrender, and lay down as\npeaceful and submissive as an infant.\n\nThis point is of some importance. I do not underrate the value of\nkindness and love in any system of government, whether in the household,\nthe school, the stable, the menagerie, or in civil society. But love is\nnot the basis of government. Obedience is yielded to authority, and\nauthority is based on right and power. The child who complies with his\nfather's wishes, only because a different course would make his father\ngrieve, or give his mother a headache, or because his parents have\nreasoned with him and shown him that compliance is for his good, or who\nhas been wheedled into compliance by petty bribes and promises, has not\nlearned that doctrine of obedience which lies at the foundation of all\ngovernment, human and divine. God has given to the parent the right to\nthe obedience of his children, and the power to enforce it. That parent\nhas failed in his duty who has not trained his child, not only to love\nhim, but to obey him, in the strict sense of the word, that is to yield\nhis will to the will of a superior, from a sense of appointed\nsubordination and rightful authority. This sense of subordination and of\nobedience to appointed and rightful authority, is of the very essence of\ncivil government, and the place where it is to be first and chiefly\nlearned is in the household. To teach this is a main end of the parental\nrelation. The parent who fails to teach it, fails to give his child the\nfirst element of good citizenship, and leaves him often to be in\nafter-years the victim of his own uncontrolled passions and tempers. The\nwant of a proper exercise of parental authority is, in this age of the\nworld, the most prolific source of those frightful disorders that\npervade society, and that threaten to upturn the very foundations of all\ncivil government. The feeling of reverence, the sense of a respect for\nauthority, the consciousness of being in a state of subordination, the\nfeeling of obligation to do a thing simply because it is commanded by\nsome one having a right to obedience--all these old-fashioned notions\nseem to be dying out of the minds of men. The popular cry is, Don't make\nyour children fear you. Govern them by love. Conquer them by kindness.\nTreat them as Mr. Rarey did his horses.\n\nI protest against the notion. It is a mistake of Mr. Rarey's system,\nand it is not the true basis for government, whether of brutes or men.\nThe doctrine may seem harsh in these dainty times. But, in my opinion, a\ncertain degree of wholesome fear in the mind of a child towards its\nparent, is essential, and is perfectly compatible with the very highest\nlove. I have never known more confiding, affectionate, and loving\nchildren, than those who not only regarded their parents as kind\nbenefactors and sympathizing friends, but who looked up to them with a\ncertain degree of reverence. The fear spoken of in the Bible, as being\ncast out by perfect love, is quite a different emotion. It is rather a\nslavish fear, a feeling of dread and terror. It sees in its object not\nonly power but hostility. It awakens not only dread but hate. The\nchild's fear, on the contrary, sees power united with kindness. It obeys\nthe one, it loves the other. It is the exact attitude of mind to which\nMr. Rarey brought the horse that was subjected to his management.\n\n\n\n\nXXII.\n\nA BOARDING-SCHOOL EXPERIENCE.\n\n\nI have often wished I had the descriptive power of the man who wrote\n\"The Diary of a Physician.\" My experiences in another profession have\nnot been wanting in incident, often of a curious and romantic kind, and\nsometimes almost startling. But the \"Diary of a Schoolmaster,\" to be\nread with interest, requires something more than a good basis of facts.\nHe who writes it must have, also, graphic and narrative powers--a\nspecial gift, of which nature has been sparing to me. I had one\nexperience, however, many years ago, so remarkable in some of its\nfeatures, that perhaps the bare facts, stated in the simplest form,\nwithout artifice or embellishment, will be found worthy of perusal. The\nyouth who was the principal actor in the scene which I am about to\ndescribe, has been dead these many years, and I believe the family have\nnearly all died out. The only survivor that I knew anything of ten years\nago was then blind, and ill of an incurable disease. There would,\ntherefore, perhaps be no harm in giving the youth's real name; but as\nthe name is one widely known, and as it is always best to avoid\nunnecessary intrusion upon private affairs, I have concluded to use a\nfictitious name, both for the person referred to and for the place from\nwhich he came. In other particulars the following incident is a simple\nnarration of facts.\n\nAt the time of which I am writing, I had a large boarding-school for\nboys, at Princeton, New Jersey. Particular circumstances gave me, for\nseveral years, quite a run of patronage from a town in one of the\nWestern States, which for convenience I shall call Tompkinsville. Among\nthose who applied for admission from this town were two brothers, Bob\nand Charlie Graham. Bob was only ten years old. Charlie was fourteen,\nand as mature as most boys at nineteen. Mature, I mean, not so much in\nhis intellectual development, for in that respect he was rather\nbehindhand, but in his passions, and in his habits of independent\nthought and action.\n\nI had many misgivings about the propriety of receiving these boys into\nthe school. Most of those that I had already from Tompkinsville were of\nthe fire-eating class, whom it had taken all my skill as a\ndisciplinarian to bring into subjection, and I did not know what might\nbe the effect of adding to their number two such combustible youths as\nthese Grahams were reputed to be. Tompkinsville, indeed, had long been\nnotorious for the fiery and lawless character of its inhabitants. While\ncontaining many most estimable families, where a generous and\nwarm-hearted hospitality reigned supreme, yet no town, probably, in all\nthe Western States witnessed annually a greater number of street-fights\nand other deeds of violence of the most desperate character. No family\nin Tompkinsville were more noted than the Grahams, on the one hand for\nthe passionate warmth of their attachments, and on the other for the\nfierceness and violence of their resentments. Nothing was too much for\nthem to do for you when their affections were touched. On the other\nhand, no law, human or divine, seemed to restrain them when their blood\nwas up. When roused by what they regarded as an insult, they were human\ntigers, no less in the quickness than in the desperate ferocity of their\nanger. The father once, in open court, in a sudden rage, actually strode\nover the tables and heads of the lawyers, and seizing the presiding\njudge by the collar, dragged him from the bench and horsewhipped him in\nthe presence of all his officials. Charlie himself, of whom I am\nwriting, gave, about two years after leaving school, a similar\ndemonstration of violence. Hearing that a young man, who was a\nfellow-student of his in a law office, had done something insulting,\nCharlie drew up a formal written apology and presented it to the young\nman to sign, intending afterwards to post it. On the young man's\nrefusing to sign the paper, Charlie drew a weapon of some kind and\nsprang upon him. The young man being several years older, and very large\nand powerful, had no difficulty in disarming his assailant, throwing him\nupon the floor and holding him there. While thus down upon his back,\nbound hand and foot, and completely at the mercy of his antagonist,\nCharlie still demanded, as fiercely as ever, the signing of the\n\"apology,\" giving the young man, as the only alternative, either to kill\nhim or to be killed. \"If you let me up alive, I will shoot you at sight,\nas sure as my name is Charles Graham.\" Knowing the desperate character\nof the family, and feeling too well assured of his own social position\nto care for any effect the signing of such a paper might have, the young\nman courageously let the ruffian up and signed the apology. Two days\nafter, Charlie came back to the office, thoroughly mortified and\npenitent for his outrage, voluntarily gave up the paper, and apologized\nin the amplest manner for his folly.\n\nI might enumerate other instances by the score, were it necessary, to\nshow the character of the boy with whom I had to deal. But these are\nprobably sufficient. His passions were as quick as gunpowder, and as\nindiscriminate. Had I known all that I afterwards knew in regard to his\ndisposition and his antecedents, I certainly would not have undertaken\nthe charge of his education.\n\nThe Grahams had been with me nearly a year without the occurrence of\nanything to attract attention or call for discipline. The school had\nconsiderable reputation among the people of Tompkinsville for the\nstrictness of its discipline. Though the relations between the pupils\nand myself were for the most part thoroughly kind and friendly, yet it\nwas well understood by every boy who entered school that the will of the\nPrincipal was supreme. Mr. Graham had probably brought his boys to the\nschool for that very reason. The routine of obedience had been so\nthoroughly established, that his boys, he thought, would submit through\nmere force of example. Bob was too young to give any uneasiness. He\nfell, of course, into many of the peccadilloes of boys of his age, and\nreceived, without demur, the treatment of a little boy. Charlie, for a\nlong time, was almost a model of propriety. He was diligent in his\nstudies, and observed the rules of the school with scrupulous care. He\nwas fair, almost girlish, in appearance, and gentle in his speech. No\none, merely observing the quiet, modest boy, going about his usual\nroutine of duty, without noise or turbulence, would have dreamed of the\nsleeping volcano that lay beneath this placid exterior.\n\nAbout the middle of the second term I began to notice in Charlie\nsymptoms that I did not like. The harness evidently chafed him\nsomewhere, and there was no telling when he might kick out of the\ntraces. The crisis at length came. One morning, when the boys were in\nthe washroom, under the charge of the senior teacher, Charlie, with what\nprecise provocation I could never ascertain, drew back his basin of\nwater and threw it full into the teacher's face.\n\nHere was a case. We were about to have an explosion. Evidently the young\nfire-eater's blood was up. He was bent on having \"a scene;\" and, while\nhis hand was in, he would quite likely make up for all the long months\nof peaceful inaction. All the tiger within him stood revealed.\n\nThe matter was reported to me of course. After some little thought, my\nplan was chosen. Not a word was said on the subject for several hours.\nMeals, play-time, study-hours, lessons, everything went on as usual. At\nlength, about eleven o'clock, Charlie was summoned, not to the\nprincipal's desk, in the public school-room, but to my private office,\nin a remote part of the premises. As he entered the quiet apartment, it\nwas evident that the intervening hours of reflection had not been lost\nupon him. He was pretty sure, of course, that I had sent for him in\nconsequence of the occurrence of the morning. Still he was not certain.\nNot a word had been uttered in school on the subject--no allusion to it\neven. Altogether there was something about the affair that mystified\nhim.\n\nThe following brief dialogue ensued.\n\n\"Where are your skates, Charlie?\"\n\n\"In my box in the play-room, sir.\"\n\n\"Where is your sled?\"\n\n\"That is hanging up in the outer shed.\"\n\n\"Where is your fishing-line and your ball?\"\n\n\"They are in the play-room.\"\n\n\"I wish you would get these and all your other playthings together\nbefore dinner. Peter (this was the head waiter) has collected your boots\nand shoes, and Sarah (the seamstress) has got your clothes together and\npacked your trunks. I have made out your accounts, and will be ready to\nsend you home to your father by the afternoon train. You may help Bob\nalso to collect his playthings; he has not done anything wrong, but he\nis so young I think your father would not like to have him here alone so\nfar from home.\"\n\nAll this was said in a tone as utterly emotionless as I would have used\nif asking him whether he would be helped to beef or lamb at table.\n\nCharlie was taken aback. If I had attempted to chastise him, if I had\neven used towards him the language of invective or reproach, he could\nhave met the case. But here was an issue which he had never\ncontemplated. After a moment of blank amazement, he said:\n\n\"Mr. H., I don't want to go home thus. It will grieve my father, and it\nwill be a lasting stigma to me in Tompkinsville, where it is counted an\nhonor to belong to this school. I know I have done wrong, but can't you\ninflict some other punishment? I will submit to anything rather than be\nsent home in this way. Put me in 'exile' and at the 'side-table,' for\nthree days, or any time you please!\"\n\nThis was an extreme penalty, sometimes used in school for very grave\noffences. The boy who was subject to it was obliged to stand at a table\nby himself in the dining-room and eat bread and water, while the other\nboys and their teachers were at their meals. Besides this, during the\ncontinuance of the penalty the culprit was not allowed to go upon the\nplay-ground, or to speak to any one, nor was any one allowed to speak to\nhim, under the penalty of being himself similarly punished. The\npunishment was, of course, a severe one in itself, and was very\nmortifying to a boy of high spirit. It was only resorted to in extreme\ncases, and was limited to one day. Charlie begged that I would \"exile\"\nand \"side-table\" him for a week, if I pleased; only not send him home\nthus.\n\n\"No, Charlie; I am not sure that your father would approve of your being\nthus publicly disgraced before the school and the family, nor am I\nmyself sure that it would be right in the case of a boy so far advanced\ntowards manhood as you are. In assuming the charge of you, I never\ncontemplated anything in our intercourse but such as occurs between\ngentlemen. Since I have been mistaken in my estimate of you, let our\nintercourse cease. It would not alter your character to subject you to a\nhumiliating punishment before the assembled school. If it were your\nbrother Bob, the case would be different. But you are almost a man. You\nhave been treated here, as at home, with the consideration due to a\nyoung gentleman. I would myself revolt at seeing one of your years and\nstanding treated as you request me to treat you. I cannot do it. You\nmust go home.\"\n\n\"Oh, no! no! Do not send me home! Do anything else. I will submit to any\npunishment you please. Flog me; _please_, flog me!\"\n\n\"Flog you! Never! I have no scruples, as you know, on the subject of\ncorporal punishment, for I often chastise the smaller boys; but boys as\nold and mature as you are have sense enough to be governed by other\nconsiderations than fear, and especially fear of the rod. If they have\nnot, I want nothing to do with them.\"\n\n\"Oh! Mr. H., won't you _please_ to flog me?\"\n\nAnd the boy actually went down on his knees and begged me to thrash him.\nHe, Charlie Graham, whose veins ran fire, who, six hours before, would\nhave leaped at my throat had I so much as raised my finger at him, was\nnow begging me, as a special boon, to give him a whipping! I could\nhardly believe my senses. Yet there was no doubt of the boy's sincerity,\nor of his earnestness. So, to give me time to reflect as to what should\nbe done, I finally said, \"Charlie, I will think of what you have asked,\nand let you know at three o'clock.\"\n\nThree o'clock came, and Charlie again made his appearance.\n\n\"Do you still wish me to whip you?\"\n\n\"I do. I will make any apology you think proper to the teacher whom I\ninsulted, and I will be most thankful to you to chastise me for the\noffence.\"\n\n\"Please to take off your coat.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen the painful affair was over, I gave him my hand cordially and\nfrankly, and said, \"Charlie, you have honorably and courageously atoned\nfor a grievous fault, and I assure you, I restore you not only to your\nposition in school, but to my respect and confidence.\"\n\nI never had any further difficulty with Charlie Graham. Years\nafterwards, when I met his father at the Springs, he could hardly\ncontain his amazement when I told him that I had once flogged his oldest\nson Charlie, at his own particular request. It was, I suppose, the first\nand last time the hand of correction was ever laid on him.\n\n\n\n\nXXIII.\n\nPHRENOLOGY.\n\n\nIn the previous chapter I gave a leaf from my experience of life in a\nboarding-school. I propose now to give another leaf from the same book.\nThe incident about to be narrated, however, is not given as an\nillustration of boarding-school life, but merely because it happened at\nschool. It might have happened elsewhere, though the circumstances on\nthat occasion were particularly favorable for giving to it a curious\npoint.\n\nWhile I was at the head of the Edgehill school, at Princeton, N. J., a\nstranger called one day and announced himself as Prof. ----. The name is\none almost as well known in the history of Phrenological science as that\nof Prof. Combe. He said he was about to give a lecture in Princeton on\nthe subject of Phrenology, and as he was an entire stranger to myself\nand to all the pupils and teachers in the school, he thought it would be\na good opportunity for making an interesting and critical experiment. He\nproposed, therefore, with my consent, to spend an hour, in presence of\nthe school, in examining the heads of any of the boys that I might call\nup for that purpose. From the very intimate relations existing in a\nboarding-school, the characters of the boys would be well known to me\nand to their companions and teachers, and we would have therefore the\nmeans of knowing how far he succeeded in his experiment.\n\nThinking that an hour spent in this way would not be misspent, that it\nwould at least give some variety to the monotonous routine of study and\nlessons, and, let me add, being not entirely without curiosity as to the\nresult, I consented to his proposition, and called the school together\nin the large assembly-room. All the boys being in their seats, together\nwith the teachers and the ladies of the household, I stated briefly the\nobject of their assembling and the method in which it was proposed to\nproceed with the experiment. They were to observe entire silence, and to\ngive no indication, by word or look, so far as they could help it, to\nshow whether the Professor was hitting the mark or not, as he read off\nto them the characters of their companions. The boys took to the idea at\nonce, and the excitement very soon was at fever-heat.\n\nPlacing a chair upon the platform, in full view of the school, and the\nProfessor alongside of it, I called up\n\n_Boy No. 1._--This happened to be a lad about fourteen, from the\ninterior of Alabama. He was the most athletic boy in school. \"Full big\nhe was of brawn and eke of bones,\" as Chaucer says, in his picture of\nthe Miller. He could beat any boy in school in wrestling, and no doubt\ncould flog any of them in a fist-fight, though on this point I speak\nonly from conjecture, as this part of boys' amusements is not always as\nwell known to their teachers as it is to the boys themselves. The\nProfessor, after some little manipulation of the cranium, read off the\nboy's character with tolerable accuracy. Any one, however, with a grain\nof observation, who had seen the boy stalking up to the platform, with\nbold, almost defiant air, or had noticed his bull-neck, hard fist, and\nswaggering gait, could not have had much difficulty in guessing what\nkind of a boy he was, without resort to his bumps for information. It\nwas written in unmistakable characters all over his physical\nconformation, from his head to his heels.\n\nI noticed, however, that while the Professor's fingers were busy with\nthe boy's cranium, his eyes were not less busy with the faces of his\nyouthful auditors. Whenever his interpretation of any bump was a\npalpable hit, his success could be all too plainly read in the upturned\nfaces before him. If the success was very marked and decisive, the\nyoungsters were entirely unable to restrain their expressions of\nsurprise and admiration. It was very evident, from his method of\nprocedure, that he was guided by these expressions, quite as much as by\nhis fingering of the bumps. He would first mention lightly some trait of\ncharacter. If it attracted no particular attention, he would quietly\nfall on to something else. But if the announcement seemed to create a\nlittle breeze, showing that he had made a hit, he would then dwell upon\nthe point, and intensify his expressions, until, in some instances, the\nschool was in quite an uproar of satisfaction.\n\nPossibly there was a spice of malice in what followed. At all events, it\nseemed to me that that was a kind of game at which two could play, and\nif, under the circumstances, he chose to palm off for knowledge gained\nby the fingers, what he was really getting by means of his eyes and\nears, there would be no great crime in punishing him a little for his\nimpertinence. So, in calling the following boys, I selected some who\nwere notorious in school for certain marked traits, but whose general\nappearance and manner gave no indication of their mental peculiarities;\nand I questioned the Professor, in regard to each boy, after a method\nsuited to the case.\n\n_Boy No. 2_ was a youth of moderate abilities, and was, in all things,\nsave one, just like other boys. But, in one matter, he had a peculiarity\nabout which there could be no mistake. That was in the matter of music.\nSo, after questioning the Professor about various indifferent points,\nmoral and intellectual, such as reverence, combativeness, secretiveness,\nlanguage, ideality, etc., I asked incidentally something also about tune\nand music. The answer was such as might be safely given in regard to\nninety-nine out of every hundred persons--some vague, indefinite epithet\nthat would apply to almost any one. But, seeing a little sparkle in the\neyes before him, the gentleman manipulated the cranium again, and then\nexpressed himself somewhat more strongly. As his expressions increased\nin strength, the excitement of the audience increased, until he was\nquite lost in hyperbole, as they were in uproar. He even went into\nparticulars. \"Now,\" said he, \"though I never saw this boy before, yet I\nventure to say that his ear for music is so quick that he can pick up\nalmost any tune by once hearing it played or whistled in the street. [A\ngeneral rustle through the school, boys winking and giving knowing looks\none to another.] I dare say he could now sing or whistle a hundred tunes\nfrom memory. [More knowing looks.] Possibly he may never make a very\naccurate performer, on account of the very ease with which he picks up a\ntune. He learns a tune so easily by the ear, that he will not submit to\nthe drudgery of studying it scientifically.\"\n\n\"You think, then, Professor, that the boy has decided indications of\nmusical talent?\"\n\n\"Undoubtedly. He has musical talents of a very high order [suppressed\nshouts] amounting almost to genius!\"\n\nThe fact was, poor Charlie was the butt of the whole school, on account\nof his utter inability to learn the first elements of either the art or\nthe science of music. He could neither sing, whistle, nor play. He could\nhardly tell \"Old Hundred\" from \"Yankee Doodle.\" Although he had been\ntaking music-lessons for two years, he could not rise and fall through\nthe eight notes, to save his neck. His attempts to do so were a sort of\nindiscriminate goo, goo, goo, like that of an infant; and the excitement\namong the boys, which the Professor had mistaken for applause and\nadmiration, grew out of their astonishment. They were simply laughing at\nhim.\n\n_Boy No. 3_ was a youth over fourteen years old, regularly and\nsymmetrically formed in face, features, and person. There was nothing in\nhis make or bearing to indicate any marked peculiarity. Yet he had a\npeculiarity as marked as that of the preceding. He was singularly\ndeficient in the capacity for mathematical studies. He was studying\nEnglish grammar, geography, and Latin, and got along in these branches\nabout as well as the majority of his class. But when it came to the\nscience of numbers, he seemed to stick fast. Neither I nor any of my\nteachers had been able to get him beyond Long Division. It was as clear\na case as I have ever known of natural deficiency in that department of\nthe mental constitution. Yet this boy was declared by the manipulator to\nhave a decided talent for mathematics.\n\n_Boy No. 4_ was my crack mathematician. He was really in mathematics\nwhat our manipulator had made out No. 2 to be in music. His quickness in\nthe perception of mathematical truth was wonderful. Besides this natural\nreadiness in everything pertaining to the science of quantity and the\nrelations of numbers, he had received a good mathematical training, and\nhe was in this department far in advance of his years. Whenever we had a\npublic exhibition, George was our show-card. The rapidity with which he\nwould fill the blackboard, in solving difficult problems in quadratics,\nwas almost bewildering. It was not every teacher even that could follow\nhim in his quick but exact evolutions of complex algebraical formulae. In\nGreek and Latin he hardly attained to mediocrity, being always behind\nhis class, while in mathematics he was superior, not only to every boy\nin school, but to any boy of the same age that I have ever had in any\nschool. But this boy received from the Professor only a second or\nthird-rate rank for mathematical indications, while highly praised for\nlinguistics, in which he was decidedly inferior.\n\nThe fact was, I saw that the gentleman was trying to read _me_, as well\nas the more youthful part of his audience; and so, in questioning him\nabout this boy, I was malicious enough to be very minute and specific in\nmy inquiries about any indications of a talent for language, while the\nquestions about mathematics were propounded just like those about half a\ndozen other points; that is, with no special stress or emphasis, but\njust enough to draw from the Professor a clear and distinct expression\nof opinion.\n\n_Boy No. 5_ was perhaps the most critical case of all, yet the one most\ndifficult to describe. He was good, and about equally good, in all his\nstudies. He stood head in almost every class. He was so uniformly good\nthat his character became monotonous, and would have been insipid, but\nfor the manly vigor that marked all his performances. His moral were\nlike his mental traits. He was indeed our model boy. In two years he had\nnot had one demerit mark. He was on all sides rounded and\ncomplete--_totus teres atque rotundus_. The uniformity of his goodness\nwas sometimes a source of anxiety to me. There was danger of his growing\nup with a self-satisfied, pharisaical spirit.\n\nThus far, however, I have not named the feature which I regarded as the\ncritical one, and which had led me to select him as one of the subjects\nfor examination. Model boys are to be found in all schools. But this boy\nhad a power of reticence which was to me a continual study, and it was\nthis feature in his character that I wanted to bring out in the\nexamination. He was not a sneak. There was nothing sly about him. His\nconduct was open and aboveboard. What he did was patent to all. But what\nhe thought, or how he felt, no one knew. Not Grant himself could more\nperfectly keep his own counsel. If a new rule was promulgated, Joseph\nobeyed it to the letter. But whether it was agreeable or disagreeable\nto him, no teacher could ever find out. Nor was his obedience of that\ntame, passive sort which comes from indifference and lack of spirit. We\nall knew him to be resolute, and to be possessed of strong passions. But\nhis power of self-restraint was equal to his power of reticence. He had,\nindeed, in a very marked degree, qualities which you look for only in\nthose who have had a long schooling in the stern realities of life, and\nwhich you find rarely even then. He was as self-poised as a man of\nfifty, with not a particle of that easy impulsiveness so nearly\nuniversal at his age.\n\nNone of the gentleman's performances surprised me so much as the\ncharacter which he assigned to this boy, and all the more because\nsomething of the boy's self-continence and reserve was written upon his\nface and manner. He was represented by the Professor, in general terms,\nas having a free and easy, rollicking sort of disposition--not being\nreally worse than his companions, though probably having the reputation\nof being so. 'If he got into more scrapes than the others [Joseph was\nnever in a scrape in his life], it was more owing to his natural\nimpulsiveness than to anything inherently bad in him. And then, when he\ndid get into a scrape, he had no faculty for concealing it. His organ of\nsecretiveness was unusually small. The boys would hardly admit him to a\npartnership in their plans of mischief, so sure was he inadvertently to\nlet the cat out of the bag,' etc., etc.\n\n_Boy No. 6_ was the weakest boy, mentally, that we had in school. He was\nbarely able to take care of himself. Some of his mistakes and blunders\nwere so ridiculous, that they were handed down among the traditionary\njokes of the school, and I am afraid even at this day to repeat them,\nlest they may be recognized. If the manipulator had had the cranium of\nDaniel Webster under his fingers, he could not have drawn a mental\ncharacter more marked by every trait that belongs to intellectual\ngreatness of the highest order. Finding that he was making a decided\nimpression upon his young hearers, the Professor continued to pile up\nqualities and powers, until the scene became almost too much for the\nmost practised gravity.\n\nThe examinations occupied an hour, and I made copious notes of the\nwhole, writing down, as nearly as I could, the exact expressions used by\nthe operator. The report which I have now given of it is as nearly\nliteral as it is safe to make it.\n\nWhen the Professor was through, and was about to leave, he asked me\nprivately to tell him how far he had succeeded in his experiments. Not\nwishing to say anything disagreeable, I evaded the question to the best\nof my ability, answering with some vague generalities, but indicating\nsufficiently that it was not agreeable to be more explicit. He pressed\nme, however, to tell him candidly and explicitly whether he had\nsucceeded, and how far. I then told him frankly that he had failed\npoint-blank in every case. \"Ah,\" said he, \"you are skeptical.\" \"No,\nsir,\" said I, \"skepticism implies doubt, and I have no longer any doubts\non the subject. _My skepticism is entirely removed!_\"\n\n\n\n\nXXIV.\n\nNORMAL SCHOOLS.\n\n\nThe term Normal School is an unfortunate misnomer, and its general\nadoption has led to much confusion of ideas. The word \"Normal,\" from the\nLatin _norma_, a rule or pattern to work by, does not differ essentially\nfrom \"Model.\" A Normal School, according to the meaning of the word,\nwould be a pattern school, an institution which could be held up for\nimitation, to be copied by other schools of the same grade. But this\nmeaning of the word is not what we mean by the thing. When we mean a\nschool to be copied or imitated, we call it a Model School. Here the\nname and the thing agree. The name explains the thing. It is very\ndifferent when we speak of a Normal School. To the uninitiated, the term\neither conveys no meaning at all; or, if your hearer is a man of\nletters, it conveys to him an idea which you have at once to explain\naway. You have to tell him, in effect, that a Normal School is not a\nNormal School, and then that it is something else, which the word does\nnot in the least describe.\n\nWhat then do we mean by a Normal School? What is the thing which we have\ncalled by this unfortunate name?\n\nA Normal School is a seminary for the professional education of\nteachers. It is an institution in which those who wish to become\nteachers learn how to do their work; in which they learn, not reading,\nbut how to teach reading; not penmanship, but how to teach penmanship;\nnot grammar, but how to teach grammar; not geography, but how to teach\ngeography; not arithmetic, but how to teach arithmetic. The idea which\nlies at the basis of such an institute, is that knowing a thing, and\nknowing how to teach that thing to others, are distinguishable and very\ndifferent facts. The knowledge of the subjects to be taught, may be\ngained at any school. In order to give to the Teachers' Seminary its\nfull power and efficiency, it were greatly to be desired that the\nsubjects themselves, as mere matters of knowledge, should be first\nlearned elsewhere, before entering the Teachers' School. This latter\nwould then have to do only with its own special function, that of\nshowing its matriculants how to use these materials in the process of\nteaching. Unfortunately, we have not yet made such progress in popular\neducation as to be able to separate these two functions to the extent\nthat is desirable. Many of those who attend a Teachers' Seminary, come\nto it lamentably ignorant of the common branches of knowledge. They have\nconsequently first to study these branches in the Normal School, as they\nwould study them in any other school. That is, they have first to learn\nthe facts as matters of knowledge, and then to study the art and science\nof teaching these facts to others. Instead of coming with their brick\nand mortar ready prepared, that they may be instructed in the use of the\ntrowel and the plumb-line, they have to make their brick and mix their\nmortar after they enter the institution. This is undoubtedly a drawback\nand a misfortune. But it cannot be helped at present. All we can do is\nto define clearly the true idea of the Teachers' School, and then to\nwork towards it as fast and as far as we can.\n\nA Normal School is essentially unlike any other school. It has been\ncompared indeed to those professional schools which are for the study of\nlaw, divinity, medicine, mining, engineering, and so forth. The Normal\nSchool, it is true, is like these schools in one respect. It is\nestablished with reference to the wants of a particular profession. It\nis a professional school. But those schools have for their main object\nthe communication of some particular branch of science. They teach law,\ndivinity, medicine, mining, or engineering. They aim to make lawyers,\ndivines, physicians, miners, engineers, not teachers of these branches.\nThe Professor in the Law School aims, not to make Professors of law, but\nlawyers. The medical Professor aims, not to make medical lecturers, but\npractitioners. To render these institutions analogous to the Teachers'\nSeminary, their pupils should first study law, medicine, engineering,\nand so forth, and then sit at the feet of their Gamaliels to be\ninitiated into the secrets of the Professorial chair, that they may in\nturn become Professors of those branches to classes of their own. Nor\nwould such a plan, if it were possible, be altogether without its value.\nIt surely needs no demonstration to prove, that in the highest\ndepartments, no less than in the lowest, something more than knowledge\nis needed in order to teach. An understanding of how to communicate\none's knowledge, and practical skill in doing it, are as necessary in\nteaching theology, metaphysics, languages, infinitesimal analysis, or\nchemistry, as they are in teaching the alphabet. If there are bunglers,\nwho know not how to go to work to teach a child its letters, or to open\nits young mind and heart to the reception of truth, whose school-rooms\nare places where the young mind and heart are in a state, either of\nperpetual torpor, or of perpetual nightmare, have these bunglers no\nanalogues in the men of ponderous erudition that sometimes fill the\nProfessor's chair? Have we no examples, in our highest seminaries of\nlearning, of men very eminent in scientific attainments, who have not in\nthemselves the first elements of a teacher? who impart to their students\nno quickening impulse? whose vast and towering knowledge may make them\nperhaps a grand feature in their College, attracting to it all eyes, but\nwhose intellectual treasures, for all the practical wants of the\nstudents, are of no more use, than are the swathed and buried mummies in\nthe pyramid of Cheops!\n\nA Teachers' Seminary, if it were complete, would include in its\ncurriculum of study the entire cycle of human knowledge, so far as it is\ntaught by schools. Our teachers of mathematics and of logic, of law and\nof medicine, need indeed a knowledge of the branches which they are to\nteach, and for this knowledge they do not need a Teachers' Seminary. But\nthey need something more than this knowledge. Besides being men of\nerudition, they need to be teachers, no less than the humbler members of\nthe profession, who have only to teach the alphabet and the\nmultiplication table; and there is in all teaching, high or low,\nsomething that is common to them all--an art and a skill which is\ndifferent from the mere knowledge of the subjects; which is not\nnecessarily learned in learning the subjects; which requires special,\nsuperadded gifts, and distinct study and training. There is, according\nto my observation, as great a lack of this special skill in the higher\nseminaries of learning, as in the lower seminaries. Were it possible to\nhave a Normal School, not which should undertake to teach the entire\nencyclopaedia of the sciences, but which, limiting itself to its one main\nfunction of developing the art and mystery of communicating knowledge,\nshould turn out College Professors, and even Divinity, Law, and Medical\nProfessors,--men who were really skilful teachers,--it would work a\nchange in those venerable institutions as marked and decisive as that\nwhich it is now effecting in the common schools. Of course, no such\nscheme is possible; certainly, none such is contemplated. But I am very\nsure I shall not be considered calumnious, when I express the\nconviction, that there are learned and eminent occupants of Professors'\nchairs, who might find great benefit in an occasional visit to a good\nNormal School, or even to the class-room of a teacher trained in a\nNormal School. I certainly have seen, in the very lowest department of\nthe common school, a style of teaching, which, for a wise and\nintelligent comprehension of its object, and for its quickening power\nupon the intellect and conscience, would compare favorably with the very\nbest teaching I have ever seen in a College or University.\n\nI come back, then, to the point from which I set out, namely, that a\nNormal School, or Teachers' Seminary, differs essentially from every\nother kind of school. It aims to give the knowledge and skill that are\nneeded alike in all schools. To make the point a little plainer, let me\nrestate, with what clearness I can, some of the elementary truths and\nfacts which lie at the foundation of the whole subject. Though to many\nof my readers it may be going over a beaten track, it may not be so to\nall; and we all do well, even in regard to known and admitted truths, to\nbring them occasionally afresh to the mind.\n\nAs it has been already said, a man may know a thing perfectly, and yet\nnot be able to teach it. Of course, a man cannot teach what he does not\nknow. He must first have the knowledge. But the mere possession of\nknowledge does not make one a teacher, any more than the possession of\npowder and shot makes him a marksman, or the possession of a rod and\nline makes him an angler. The most learned men are often unfortunately\nthe very men who have least capacity for communicating what they know.\nNor is this incapacity confined to those versed in book knowledge. It is\ncommon to every class of men, and to every kind of knowledge. Let me\ngive an example. The fact about to be stated, was communicated to me by\na gentleman of eminent commercial standing in Philadelphia, at that time\nthe President of one of its leading banks. The fact occurred in his own\npersonal experience. He was, at the time of its occurrence, largely\nengaged in the cloth trade. His faculties of mind and body, and\nparticularly his sense of touch, had been so trained in this business,\nthat in going rapidly over an invoice of cloth, as his eye and hand\npassed in quick succession from piece to piece, in the most\nmiscellaneous assortment, he could tell instantly the value of each,\nwith a degree of precision, and a certainty of knowledge, hardly\ncredible. A single glance of the eye, a single touch, transient as\nthought, gave the result. His own knowledge of the subject, in short,\nwas perfect, and it was rapidly winning him a fortune. Yet when\nundertaking to explain to a younger and less experienced member of the\ncraft, whom he wished to befriend, by what process he arrived at his\njudgment, in other words, to teach what he knew, he found himself\nutterly at a loss. His thoughts had never run in that direction. \"Oh!\"\nsaid he, \"you have only--to look at the cloth, and--and--to run your\nfingers over it,--thus. You will perceive at once the difference between\none piece and another.\" It seems never to have occurred to him that\nanother man's sensations and perceptions might in the same circumstances\nbe quite different from his, and that in order to communicate his\nknowledge to one uninitiated, he must pause to analyze it; he must\nseparate, classify, and name those several qualities of the cloth of\nwhich his senses took cognizance; he must then ascertain how far his\ninterrogator perceived by his senses the same qualities which he himself\ndid, and thus gradually get on common ground with him.\n\nLet the receiving-teller of a bank be called upon to explain how it is\nthat he knows at a glance a counterfeit bill from a genuine one, and in\nnine cases out of ten he will succeed no better than the cloth merchant\ndid. Knowing and communicating what we know, doing and explaining what\nwe do, are distinct, separable, and usually very different processes.\n\nSimilar illustrations might be drawn from artists, and from men of\noriginal genius in almost every profession, who can seldom give any\nintelligible account of how they achieve their results. The mental\nhabits best suited for achievement are rarely those best suited for\nteaching. Marlborough, so celebrated for his military combinations,\ncould never give any intelligible account of his plans. He had arrived\nat his conclusions with unerring certainty, but he was so little\naccustomed to observing his own mental processes, that he utterly failed\nin attempting to make them plain to others. He saw the points himself\nwith perfect clearness, but he had no power to make others see them. To\nall objections to his plans, he could only say, \"Silly, silly, that's\nsilly.\" It was much the same with Cromwell. It is so with most men who\nare distinguished for action and achievement. Patrick Henry would\ndoubtless have made but a third-rate teacher of elocution, and old Homer\nbut an indifferent lecturer on the art of poetry.\n\nTo acquire knowledge ourselves, then, and to put others in possession of\nwhat we have acquired, are not only distinct intellectual processes, but\nthey are quite unlike. In the former case, the faculties merely go out\ntowards the objects to be known, as in the case of the cloth merchant\npassing his eye and finger over the bales of cloth. But in the case of\none attempting to teach, several additional processes are needed,\nbesides that of collecting knowledge. He must turn his thoughts inward,\nso as to arrange and classify properly the contents of his intellectual\nstorehouse. He must then examine his own mind, his intellectual\nmachinery, so as to understand exactly how the knowledge came in upon\nhimself. He must lastly study the minds of his pupils, so as to know\nthrough what channels the knowledge may best reach them. The teacher may\nnot always be aware that he does all these things, that is, he may not\nalways have a theory of his own art. But the art itself he must have. He\nmust first get the knowledge of the things to be taught; he must\nsecondly study his knowledge; he must thirdly study himself; he must\nlastly study his pupil. He is a teacher at all only so far as he does at\nleast these four things.\n\nIn a Normal School, as before said, the knowledge of the subject is\npresupposed. The object of the Normal School is, not so much to make\narithmeticians and grammarians, for instance, as to make teachers of\narithmetic and grammar. This teaching faculty is a thing by itself, and\nquite apart from the subject matter to be taught. It underlies every\nbranch of knowledge, and every trade and profession. The theologian, the\nmathematician, the linguist, the learned professor, no less than the\nteacher of the primary school, or of the Sabbath-school, all need this\nsupplementary knowledge and skill, in which consists the very essence of\nteaching. This knowledge of how to teach is not acquired by merely\nstudying the subject to be taught. It is a study by itself. A man may\nread familiarly the _Mechanique Celeste_, and yet not know how to teach\nthe multiplication table. He may read Arabic or Sanskrit, and not know\nhow to teach a child the alphabet of his mother tongue. The\nSabbath-school teacher may dip deep into biblical lore, he may ransack\nthe commentaries, and may become, as many Sabbath-school teachers are,\ntruly learned in Bible knowledge, and yet be utterly incompetent to\nteach a class of children. He can no more hit the wandering attention,\nor make a lodgment of his knowledge in the minds of his youthful\nauditory, than the mere unskilled possessor of a fowling-piece can hit a\nbird upon the wing.\n\nThe art of teaching is the one indispensable qualification of the\nteacher. Without this, whatever else he may be, he is no teacher. How\nmay this art be acquired? In the first place, many persons pick it up,\njust as they pick up a great many other arts and trades,--in a\nhap-hazard sort of way. They have some natural aptitude for it, and they\ngrope their way along, by guess and by instinct, and through many\nfailures, until they become good teachers, they hardly know how. To\nrescue the art from this condition of uncertainty and chance, is the\nobject of the Normal School. In such a school, the main object of the\npupil is to learn how to make others know what he himself knows. The\nwhole current of his thoughts and studies is turned into this channel.\nStudying how to teach, with an experimental class to practise on, forms\nthe constant topic of his meditations. It is surprising how rapidly,\nunder such conditions, the faculty of teaching is developed; how fertile\nthe mind becomes in devising practical expedients, when once the\nattention is roused and fixed upon the precise object to be attained,\nand the idea of what teaching really is, fairly has possession of the\nmind. For this purpose every well-ordered Normal School has, in\nconnection with it, as a part of its organization, a Model School, to\nserve the double purpose of a school of observation and practice.\n\nThus, after these pupil-teachers are once familiar with the branches to\nbe taught, and after they have become acquainted with the theory of\nteaching, as a science, it is surprising how soon, with even a little of\nthis practice-teaching, they acquire the art. If the faculty of teaching\nis in them at all, a very few experimental lessons, under the eye of an\nexperienced teacher, will develop it.\n\nThe fact of possessing within one's self this gift, or power of\nteaching, sometimes breaks upon the possessor himself with all the force\nof a surprising and most delightful discovery. The good teacher does not\nindeed stop here. He goes on to improve in his art, as long as he lives.\nBut his greatest single achievement is when he takes the first\nstep,--when he first learns to teach at all. The pupil of a Normal\nSchool gains there a start and an impulse, which carry him forward the\nrest of his life. A very little judicious experimental training redeems\nhundreds of candidates from utter and hopeless incompetency, and\nconverts for them an awkward and painful drudgery into keen, hopeful and\nproductive labor.\n\n\n\n\nXXV.\n\nPRACTICE-TEACHING.\n\n\nOne feature of a Normal School which distinguishes it especially from\nother schools, is the opportunity given to its matriculants for\npractising their art under the guidance and criticism of an experienced\nteacher. This practice-teaching is done in a Model School, maintained\nfor this purpose in connection with the main school. Such is the theory.\n\nBut serious difficulties are encountered in carrying the plan into\npractical effect, and these difficulties are so great as in some\ninstances to have led to the entire abandonment of the plan, while very\nrarely have the conductors of Normal schools been able to realize\nresults in this matter commensurate with their wishes or with their\nviews of what was desirable and right.\n\nSome of the difficulties are the following: Parents who send their\nchildren to the Model School object to have their children taught to any\nconsiderable extent by mere pupil-teachers. The teachers of the Model\nSchool, having little or no acquaintance with the Normal pupils sent to\nteach under their supervision, do not feel that entire freedom in\ncriticising the performance which is essential to its success. The\nirregularities produced by these practice-teachings have a tendency to\nimpair the discipline of the classes in the Model School.\n\nFor these and other reasons which I need not dwell upon, I at least have\nalways been obliged to be somewhat chary in regard to the amount of\npractice-teaching that was done in the institution under my care, and\nhave never felt quite satisfied as to the result. At the beginning of\nthe year 1867, I determined to try the plan of having a considerable\nportion of the practice-teaching done in the Normal School itself, the\nModel School still holding its place in the system as furnishing an\nunrivalled opportunity for observation, and to some extent of practice\nalso. The effect of thus extending the opportunity for practice by\nincluding the Normal School in its operations has been most happy. The\npupils have attained a degree of freedom in the exercise which is\nworking the most marked and decisive results. They enter into it with\nmore zest than into any other exercise of the class, and derive from it\nin some instances as much benefit as from all their other exercises put\ntogether.\n\nSome detailed account of the method may perhaps be of interest to other\nlaborers in the same field. The method is substantially the same as that\nfollowed in the Girls High and Normal School of Philadelphia, from which\nindeed I borrowed the idea.\n\nOnce a week I make up a programme containing the names of those who are\nto teach during the following week, and the classes and lessons which\nthey are severally to teach. The practice-pupils are thus enabled to\nprepare themselves fully for the exercise. It is an indispensable\ncondition in all these exercises that the lesson be given without the\nuse of the book. When a pupil enters a room to teach one of these\nassigned lessons, he is to bring with him only his crayon and pointer,\nand is expected to assume entire charge of the class, maintaining order,\nhearing the pupils recite, correcting their mistakes, illustrating the\nsubject, if necessary, by diagrams or experiments, giving supplementary\ninformation drawn from other sources than the text-book, and acting in\nall respects as if he were the regular teacher. The regular teacher\nmeanwhile sits by, observing in silence, and at the close of the day\nwrites out a full and detailed criticism upon the performance in a book\nkept for this purpose, and gives the pupil an average for it, the\nmaximum being 100. These criticisms, together with the teaching\naverages, are read next day by the Principal to the pupil in the\npresence of the class to which he belongs, with additional comments in\nregard to any principles of teaching that may be involved in the\ncriticisms.\n\nAn essential element of success in this scheme, is that the teachers\nshould be thoroughly faithful in the work of criticism, and point out\nthe errors and shortcomings of the young practitioners, not with\nharshness, but with unsparing truthfulness and wise discrimination.\nPractice-teaching under such conditions cannot fail to have a powerful\neffect. The pupils are stimulated by it to put forth the very best\nefforts of which they are capable, and the talent which they often\ndevelop is a surprise equally to themselves and their teachers.\n\nI cannot better give an idea of this practice-teaching, and especially\nof the criticism which is its vitalizing principle, than by quoting a\nfew of the actual criticisms made during the last year. I feel sure they\nwill interest teachers and perhaps the public.\n\nIn making these extracts, I suppress, of course, the names of the\nparties.\n\n\nNOTES ON PRACTICE-TEACHING.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Elocution. She was animated and\nenergetic in giving the vocal exercises, but she pitched her voice too\nhigh. The same shrill tone characterized the concert reading. Many of\nthe criticisms given by pupils were not loud enough to be heard by the\nwhole class. One of the ladies, in giving a sketch of Shakspeare, said\n\"his principal works _was_ 'Much Ado About Nothing,' 'Merchant of\nVenice,' etc.;\" but the error passed unnoticed by pupils and teacher.\nMiss ---- herself, said \"Hamlet thought it wasn't _him_.\" She marked\nthe pupils too high, the worst readers in the class receiving 8 and 9.\nTeaching average 85.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in History. She was herself well\nprepared with the lesson, but she allowed the pupils too long a time to\nthink and _guess_. A chronology lesson is apt to be dry and\nuninteresting; and unless the teacher calls upon the pupils in _rapid_\nsuccession, thus keeping them wide awake, the interest will flag, and\neven good pupils will be inattentive. One of the pupils, after gaping\ntwo or three times, indulged in short naps during the recitation; the\nteacher evidently did not see her. Miss ---- marked the pupils\njudiciously. Teaching average 90.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Arithmetic. She assisted the\npupils too much. She did not require them to be accurate enough in\nanswering questions; otherwise she taught well, the subject being rather\na difficult one. Miss ---- marked the pupils judiciously. Teaching\naverage 85.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Grammar. She began the recitation\nwell, spoke in a loud and decided tone, and was well prepared with the\nlesson. She failed to keep her class in order; she allowed pupils to\nspeak without being called upon, and all to criticise and ask questions\nat the same instant--thus she became confused and sought refuge behind\nher book. Teaching average 80.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in the Constitution of the United\nStates. She was too quiet in conducting the recitation. The entire\nperiod was spent in repeating the mere words of the book; but once or\ntwice the lady asked for the explanation of clauses, and then the\nanswers given were neither full nor satisfactory, yet the lady ventured\nno comment of her own. Many practical questions might have been given by\nthe teacher respecting the executive departments, ambassadors, consuls,\ntreaties, and so forth. The lesson contained many subjects of interest\nsufficient to occupy more than the allotted time. Teachers should call\nmore frequently for definitions, and always take it for granted that\ntheir pupils are ignorant of the meaning of even the simplest words. I\nventure to assert that more than one third of the class left the room\nwithout knowing the difference between a _reprieve_ and a _pardon_.\nTeaching average 80.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Arithmetic. She was well prepared\nwith the lesson, seemed to understand the subject fully, and readily\nanswered questions proposed by pupils; but she allowed too many pupils\nto speak at once, and did not pay enough attention to _signs_. One of\nthe pupils began a sentence with a small letter, and Miss ---- took no\nnotice of it. Miss ---- marked judiciously. Teaching average 88.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in the Constitution. She failed\nentirely in teaching. She became embarrassed, and soon lost the respect\nand confidence of the class. Pupils assumed all sorts of positions; and\none picked up a ruler and began fanning himself, but was not rebuked by\nthe teacher. The lady, not familiar with the names of the scholars, made\nseveral mistakes, (perfectly excusable); but, there being no sympathy\nbetween the teacher and the class, the pupils laughed immoderately, and\nseemed to enjoy the lady's embarrassment. The words of the book were\nrepeated over and over again, without a word of explanation or comment,\nuntil the teacher, tired of the monotony, announced that the lesson was\nfinished, and called upon me to fill up the remainder of the time. The\nlesson was one that needed thorough preparation on the part of the\nteacher, but Miss ---- had merely studied the _words_ and not the\n_subject_; when asked a very simple question by one of the pupils, she\nwas completely nonplussed. Teaching average 50.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Map Drawing. She became somewhat\nconfused in her work, and so did not distinctly enough give the points\nof criticism. I think she was not familiar enough with the map drawn to\nnotice, with sufficient readiness, the great points of error in the\nwork. Several of the pupils were allowed, in one or two cases, to speak\nat the same time. She marked well, using a good scale of markings.\nTeaching average 85.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Arithmetic. She was either very\ncareless or had not prepared the proper lesson, as she gave pupils\nproblems to solve that were not in the lesson; in consequence of which\nsome good pupils failed, as they had not prepared an advance lesson. She\nwas too quiet, and spoke in so low a tone that many of the pupils did\nnot hear her. The pupils were more animated than the teacher. Miss ----\nmarked some pupils too high, others too low, and in one instance did not\nmark at all. Teaching average 65.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in History. She was thoroughly\nprepared with the lesson, and did not confine herself to the mere words\nof the text-book. She asked many good general questions connected with\nthe subject, thus compelling pupils to think; and whenever the class\nfailed to give the desired information, the lady very promptly gave it\nherself; she thus won the confidence of her pupils. Miss ---- lacked\nanimation and did not speak loud enough; otherwise she did well.\nTeaching average 92.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Grammar. She has improved since\nteaching for me before, but she still lacks energy and decision. She\ngave the pupil who was reciting all her attention, thus allowing an\nopportunity to some (who took advantage of it) to assume lounging\npositions, in which to await lazily for their turn to recite. Some\nremained wide awake, and embarrassed Miss ----, by speaking at any time,\neven interrupting her in the middle of a sentence, to ask questions.\nTeaching average 87.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Grammar. She taught well. She\nspoke in that decided tone which conveys a conviction of truth to\npupils, and by so doing gained their confidence. She used the\nblackboards to advantage, and thoroughly inspected and criticised all\nwritings that she had required to be put upon the boards. The facts she\ntaught were correct, except one, which was, that \"is ashamed\" was a verb\nin the passive voice; in this she was corrected by a number of the\nclass. Teaching average 93.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Elocution. She failed in\nteaching. The pupils read badly, and many errors were made, but there\nwere no criticisms. The lady spoke in a very low tone, and seemed to be\nafraid of the class. She did not read a single line for the pupils.\nReading cannot be taught properly by arbitrary rules, the voice of the\nliving teacher is indispensable. Teaching average 65.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Elocution. She cannot become a\nsuccessful teacher until she studies the pronunciation of words. Not\nonly did she permit mistakes made by the pupils to pass unnoticed, but\nshe mis-pronounced many words herself, hos-_pit_-a-ble, for\n_hos_-pi-ta-ble, _in_-tense for in-_tense_, etc.; the errors consisted\nchiefly in changing the accented syllable. In the word _machination_,\nhowever, though the accent was correctly marked, she taught the class\nto call it \"mash-in-a-tion.\" There can be no possible excuse for such\ncarelessness, or rather ignorance, since the lady had three days for the\npreparation of the lesson. The dictionary should be kept in constant use\nby pupils and teacher. Teaching average 65.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in the Constitution. She did well.\nThe lesson was a long one, and somewhat difficult, but the lady evinced\nthorough preparation. She ought to have disturbed the repose of the\ndrones in the class, by calling upon them more frequently. Explanations\ngiven by the teacher should be repeated by the pupils: first, to\nascertain whether or not they have been properly understood, and\nsecondly, to make a deeper impression upon the minds of the scholars.\nIndeed, the whole business of teaching might be summed up in two words,\nnamely, _simplify_ and _repeat_. Teaching average 95.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Map Drawing. She was quite well\nprepared for the lesson, but did not always speak quite distinctly\nenough; she required all those pupils, who had criticisms to make, to\nstand, and then designated one to give them--a very good plan. Miss ----\nmust be more careful in regard to the grammatical construction of her\nown sentences. Teaching average 90.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Mental Arithmetic. She became\nsomewhat confused, and so made several mistakes in her work. She\nattempted to solve several examples, but each time made some error,\neither of statement or solution. She was not careful enough in her\nmarkings, omitting to mark one of the pupils for absence, and two for\nrecitation. Teaching average 88.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Map-Drawing. She should have kept\none of the divisions at the board drawing while the other were reciting.\nIt was the first day of map description, she should therefore have given\nthem an example of the work desired; instead of this she scolded them\nfor not knowing her method. Teachers should be careful never to ask for\nanything but what the pupil would reasonably be expected to know. If you\ninsist that they shall give anything not found in the lesson, or not\nbefore given by the teacher, they will become angry and careless, as\nshown in the class to-day. She did not criticise the map drawn. Teaching\naverage, 82.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Constitution. She did well. She\nused the blackboards to advantage, and very carefully examined and\ncriticised the work placed there by the pupils. She should speak in a\nlouder and more decided tone. Teaching average 93.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Elocution. She gave a very short\nvocal exercise and omitted the concert reading. During the recitation\nshe read _remarkably_ well; her voice was clear and full, her emphasis\nand inflections were correct, and her whole manner free from\nembarrassment. The entrance of three or four visitors did not in the\nleast disconcert her; for her calmness and dignity, she deserves much\ncommendation. Teaching average 95.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Geography. She taught well. She\ndid not call upon enough members of the class for recitation. A subject\nthat can be divided into portions small enough to enable the teacher to\ncall upon each member of the class at each recitation, should be so\ndivided. She made it still worse by calling upon several members to\nrecite twice. With a little more energy on her part she could have had\nmore work performed in the forty minutes. Teaching average 90.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Arithmetic. She taught very well.\nThe subject, Repetends, was a difficult one, which required careful\npreparation on the part of the teacher and close attention during the\nrecitation. Miss ----, conscious of this, made herself perfectly\nfamiliar with the lesson before appearing in class, and when pupils\nfailed to explain examples from a want of knowledge, she was ready and\nable to give the necessary information. She marked judiciously. Teaching\naverage 90.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Ancient History. She was\nsprightly and animated. She spoke in a clear, decided tone; but she\npursued no regular plan in conducting the recitation. Events in Egyptian\nand Assyrian history were indiscriminately mixed, the pupils became\nconfused, and the lady herself was somewhat bewildered. Teaching average\n88.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Grammar. She did not speak loud\nenough for the class to understand her. There was much disorder in the\nclass, but no notice was taken of it by the teacher. Some carried on a\nconversation among themselves, others asked questions without\npermission, often at the most inappropriate times. Many errors passed\nunnoticed, and the lady gave corrections herself which she should have\nrequired of the pupils. Several times, in attempting to correct, she\nmade the errors worse; for instance she parsed verbs that were\ntransitive and in the passive voice as being intransitive and active.\nShe must endeavor to gain more confidence in herself. Teaching average\n75.\n\nMiss ---- gave the A class a lesson in Geometry. She taught the class\ndecidedly well. She deserves all the more credit, as it was a difficult\nlesson of her own class. She allowed but one error of work--that I\nnoticed--to pass uncorrected. Her method of calling upon the class for\ncriticisms was very good. She should strive to speak a little more\ndistinctly. Teaching average, 96.\n\nMiss ---- gave the B class a lesson in Physiology. She evinced perfect\nfamiliarity with the subject of the lesson. She did not confine herself\nto the text-book, but asked many good, general questions. One of the\npupils did not understand a portion of the lesson which was to be\nexplained by a diagram. Miss ---- endeavored to make the matter clear by\nan explanation, which was very good, still the pupil did not see it\nclearly. I think the teacher would have succeeded in clearing the\ndifficulty if she had used the _pointer_ instead of designating certain\npoints by letters. She spoke a little too low. Teaching average, 96.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Geography. She deserves great\ncredit for the distinctness with which she speaks, for her care in the\npreparation of the lesson for the day, and for the promptness with which\nshe stops all irregularities in the class. Her marks for the day were a\nlittle too high; she did not make distinction enough between the good\nand the poor scholars. Teaching average, 96.\n\nMiss ---- gave the A class a lesson in Elocution. She succeeded\nadmirably. The vocal exercises and concert reading were well given. The\nlady threw herself entirely into the work, and this was the real secret\nof her success. Her grade of marking was too high; otherwise, she did\nvery well. Teaching average, 97.\n\nMiss ---- gave the A class a lesson in English Literature. She did not\nspend enough time upon the lesson for the day, and consumed too much of\nthe period in reviewing old lessons. She was not careful in examining\nthe blackboards. _Lbs._ was permitted to stand as the abbreviation for\npounds sterling, and _whimsicalities_ was spelled with two l's. The lady\nmade no deduction for errors; all the pupils with but one exception\nreceived 10. She deserves commendation for speaking in a loud, clear\ntone. Teaching average, 88.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Constitution. She did nothing\nmore than hear the recitations. She did not venture to give any\nexplanations or to ask them of the class, but spent the whole period in\nrepeating again and again the words of the text-book. It is probable\nthat no pupil knew anything more of the subject on going from the room\nthan when she entered. Teachers should possess and impart to their\npupils some information independent of the book. Teaching average, 55.\n\nMiss ---- taught the A class Geometry. She did not question enough or\ncriticise enough, but almost always called upon the class for\ncriticisms. She added no remarks or criticisms herself; thus many\nimportant omissions and errors were unnoticed. She succeeded well in\ncalling upon almost every member of the class. Teaching average, 75.\n\nMiss ---- gave the B class a lesson in Physiology. She was not\nsufficiently animated and self-possessed. The substance of the lesson\nwas recited before the expiration of the period, which left the lady at\na loss to know what she should do with the remainder of the time. It\nmight have been profitably employed asking questions of importance\nconnected with the lesson; but instead of doing so, Miss ---- turned to\nme for assistance. She was asked her opinion of a disputed point, which,\nalthough of slight importance, merited some attention; but she passed it\nby, notwithstanding her attention was called to it several times.\nTeaching average, 76.\n\nMiss ---- gave the A class a lesson in Elocution. She displayed the tact\nand skill of an experienced teacher. She assumed full authority over the\npupils (though they were her classmates), and her whole manner was such\nthat a visitor entering the room would have supposed she was the\npermanent teacher. One secret of her success was that she had given the\nreading lesson much home practice and preparation. Teaching average,\n100.\n\nMiss ---- taught the A class in Literature. She taught well. Though\nrather quiet, she succeeded in awakening the interest of her pupils, and\nthe entire recitation was very animated. The class is a good one, and\nthe pupils deserve as much commendation as the teacher. Teaching\naverage, 96.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in Geography. She came before the\nclass well prepared for her duties. She did not use the book, though it\nwas written in the catechetical style--the one most difficult to teach\nwithout some such reference. She by her questions brought out a number\nof points not given in the text-book. Teaching average, 97.\n\nMiss ---- gave the B class a lesson in Rhetoric. She showed a thorough\npreparation of the lesson and taught well. She should have worked a\nlittle faster. Pupils were allowed too much time to think. Teaching\naverage, 98.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in History. She taught with much\ndignity and self-possession. She did not teach simply by having the\nlesson recited as the author had given it, but asked for the definition\nof words, and gave information not found in the text-book. But one error\nwas allowed to pass, which was that of calling Queen Victoria the\ngrand-daughter of William of Orange. Teaching average, 98.\n\nMiss ---- gave the B class a lesson in Physiology. She conducted the\nrecitation in a very dignified and lady-like manner. The lesson was a\ndifficult one, but the teacher seemed to understand the subject\nthoroughly. There was a reference to the _retina_ of the eye in the\nlesson; the pupils not having studied that subject, did not know what\nthe retina was, and called upon the teacher for explanation; she\nattempted to describe it, but failed to make them understand because she\ndid not thoroughly understand it herself. With this exception, she\ntaught very well. Teaching average, 96.\n\nMiss ---- gave the B class a lesson in Elocution. She is a good teacher,\nand reads well. She maintained her dignity and composure during the\nentire recitation, though several visitors were present. Nothing tends\nto embarrass a teacher so much as the entrance of strangers; the lady's\ncalmness and self-possession then are worthy of much commendation.\nTeaching average 100.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Mental Arithmetic. She read the\nquestions distinctly, and had them correctly solved; but for the plan of\nrecitation, she helped the pupils too much. The method was that called\n\"Chance Assignment;\" in this method, as the pupils have time to think of\nthe problems, the work should be purely that of the memory, in regard to\nthe example itself. Teaching average 95.\n\nMiss ---- gave the A class a lesson in Literature. She evinced thorough\npreparation, and displayed considerable tact in conducting the\nrecitation. Every pupil was called on and compelled to recite or confess\nignorance. Teaching average 98.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Elocution. She selected a very\ndifficult reading-lesson, and not only read it well herself, but\ninsisted upon the pupils reading it well too. The lady has a good clear\nvoice, but it lacks power; nothing will develop this quality but\nconstant daily practice. Teaching average 97.\n\nMiss ---- taught the C class in Ancient History. She did not succeed.\nHer embarrassment was caused in a great measure by not knowing the names\nof the pupils. Teachers should obtain lists of the names, if they are\nnot familiar with them. The lesson being one in mythology, could have\nbeen made very interesting with a slight effort on the part of the\nteacher. Many errors in pronunciation made by both teacher and pupils,\nwere allowed to pass. Teaching average 72.\n\nMiss ---- gave the A class a lesson in Elocution. She taught well, but\nwould have succeeded better if she had given the lesson a little more\nhome practice. When delivering a passage requiring considerable force,\nshe heightened the pitch of her voice, and thus gave an unpleasant\nshrillness, where the pure orotund tone was needed. Teaching average 95.\n\nMiss ---- gave the B class a lesson in Elocution. She is a very\nsprightly, animated teacher, and reads well. She paid special attention\nto the correct orthoepy of words, and insisted upon pupils' making use\nof their dictionaries whenever a word occurred with which they were not\nfamiliar. Teaching average 100.\n\nMiss ---- gave the D class a lesson in History. She is one of the best\nteachers in her class. She is sprightly, animated, and critical. The\nlesson was well taught; a map having been neatly drawn on the board, the\nteacher required the most important places referred to in the lesson, to\nbe pointed out upon it. Teaching average 100.\n\nMiss ---- gave the A class a lesson in Chemistry. She has improved very\nmuch in teaching. She understood the subject which she taught, and had\ngiven the lesson careful preparation. She requested one of the pupils to\nlook for the orthoepy of a word which occurred in the lesson. The lady\nturned over the leaves of the dictionary in a very careless manner, then\ntook her seat, saying she could not find the word, although she must\nhave been conscious all the while that she was not searching for it in\nthe proper place. Miss ----, instead of sending the lady to look for\nthe word again, as she should have done, pronounced it herself. The\nteacher should require prompt obedience on the part of pupils. Teaching\naverage 95.\n\nMiss ---- gave the C class a lesson in Elocution. She is a very\nenergetic teacher, and manifests a deep interest in her pupils--hence,\nher success. A visitor would have inferred from her manner, that she was\nthe permanent teacher, not a mere substitute for a passing hour.\nTeaching average, 100.\n\n\n\n\nXXVI.\n\nATTENTION AS A MENTAL FACULTY, AND AS A MEANS OF MENTAL CULTURE.\n\n\nThe illustrations which first led to a satisfactory elucidation of the\nsubject, were drawn from the eye. There are many facts in the history of\nvision, which show that we may experience sensations and perceptions and\nother intellectual operations, and may at the time be conscious of the\nsame, without giving them any attention, or, at least, without giving\nthem such a degree of attention as to have the slightest recollection of\nthem afterwards.\n\nWhen, for instance, we read a printed book, the eye glances so rapidly\nfrom sentence to sentence, that we can hardly persuade ourselves that we\nactually see successively every letter. We certainly have no\nrecollection of having gone through such an innumerable train of\nconscious acts as the theory necessarily implies. That such, however, is\nthe case, is proved by the fact, that if by accident any letter is\nomitted, or transposed, or put upside down, the eye at once detects the\nmistake. The fact is familiar to all. It can be accounted for only on\nthe supposition that, even in the rapid and cursory perusal of a book,\nthe eye actually passes from letter to letter, and gives to each a\ndistinct notice. It not only notices each letter, but the position of\neach in reference to the other letters in the line, and even those nice\ndiacritical points by which one letter is distinguished from another, as\n_c_ from _e_, _u_ from _n_, _b_ from _d_, _p_ from _q_. This notice,\nhowever, is so slight, the transition is so rapid, that we have no\nrecollection of it afterwards, and we can hardly persuade ourselves that\nsuch has been the sober and yet most wonderful fact.\n\nTake another instance. If, on the occasion of an evening assemblage, by\na sudden movement of the gas-pipe, any one should instantly extinguish\nall the lights in the room and leave the building for a time in total\ndarkness, and if, by an equally sudden movement, he should then restore\nthe light to its previous condition, every one present would notice the\nchange and have a distinct recollection of it afterwards. Yet, every\ntime we close our eyes in winking, that is, several times in every\nminute of our waking hours, we experience precisely this change from\nfull and perfect vision to total darkness. But no one ever notices or\nremembers the fact of his winking, unless he stops to make it the\nsubject of special attention.\n\nSight however is not the only means of illustrating this point. We are\ndrawn to a similar conclusion by observing the workings of the mind\nitself, in the act of volition. Whenever we make any single volition an\nobject of special attention, we are conscious of that volition, and we\nhave a distinct recollection of it afterwards. Yet probably not one out\nof ten thousand, possibly not one out of a million, of our simple\nvolitions, is ever known to us after the moment of its occurrence. In\nvoluntary muscular action, every distinct movement requires a distinct\nvolition. And how innumerable are the movements necessary to the\naccomplishment of any one of the ordinary purposes of life! We sit down\nfor example to write a letter to a friend. The nimble pen dances from\npoint to point over the darkening page, and when we reach the bottom, we\nhave not the least recollection of having willed any one of those\ncountless muscular movements which have been necessary to what, but for\nits every-day occurrence, would be accounted the greatest feat of\nlegerdemain ever performed by man!\n\nTake for example the act of reading aloud. Every letter requires for its\nutterance at least one distinct muscular contraction. Some letters\nrequire several. Now it has been found on trial that we are able to\npronounce more than a thousand letters in a minute. That is, during\nevery minute that we are reading aloud, we perform between one and two\nthousand distinct muscular movements, and by necessity a like number of\nantecedent acts of the will, to say nothing of those other acts, not\nless numerous in the case of a speaker, connected with the general\nmovement of the body in earnest gesticulation. Yet after the hour's\nperformance, what does the speaker or the reader remember of all these\ncountless volitions? Nothing but the one general purpose to please,\ninstruct, or persuade an audience.\n\nThe conclusion, toward which these illustrations point, is objected to\nby some writers, on the ground of the incredible rapidity which it\nattributes to our intellectual operations. Is it possible, it is asked,\nthat we can crowd into such a space of time so many acts of the will,\nand that we are, at the moment when each happens, conscious of its\npresence? Is it not more probable that these rapid muscular actions are\nresolvable, in some way, into the law of habit? May they not become in\nsome sense mechanical and automatic, so as to require no intervention of\nthe will? Take for example, the case of a person learning to play upon a\nmusical instrument. The first step is to move the fingers from key to\nkey with a slow motion, looking at the notes, and exerting an express\nact of volition at every note. By degrees, however, the motions somehow\ncling to each other, and to the impressions of the notes, in the way of\nassociations, the acts of volition all the while growing less and less\nexpress, until at last they become quite evanescent and imperceptible.\nAn expert will play from notes or from memory, and with a rapidity of\nmotion that is perfectly bewildering, while at the same time he himself\nis carrying on quite a different train of thoughts in his mind, or even\nperhaps holding a conversation with another. Hence, it is concluded, by\nthe writers referred to, that in these cases there is really no\nintervention of that idea or state of the mind called will.\n\nThe authorities for this hypothesis are among the highest that can be\nnamed in the history of intellectual science. Let us see how far the\nhypothesis explains the facts of the case. The most rapid performer, it\nis obvious, can at any time retard his execution, until his movements\nbecome so slow that each one may be made, as originally it was made, the\nsubject of special attention, and may be distinctly remembered\nafterwards. Now, according to the hypothesis proposed, we will our\nactions, and are conscious both of the act, and the antecedent\nvolition, so long as their rapidity is confined to a certain rate; but,\nas soon as the rapidity exceeds that rate, the operation is taken out of\nour hands, and is carried on by some unknown power, of which we know no\nmore than we do of the circulation of the blood, or of the systole and\ndiastole of the heart! Such a supposition is about as reasonable as it\nwould be to say that a projectile passes through the intermediate space,\nwhen it is thrown with such a moderate degree of velocity that we can\nsee it, in its progress; but, when it is thrown with such velocity as to\nbecome invisible, it ceases to pass through the intermediate space, and\nreaches the goal only because projectiles have the habit of doing so!\n\nThe hypothesis then breaks down, and we are forced back to our original\nsupposition, namely, that those actions which are voluntary originally,\nnever cease to be so; that when, as in the cases supposed, we retain no\nrecollection of particular volitions, it is because of some law of our\nnature by which we are capable of recollecting only those acts upon\nwhich the attention has been fixed with a certain degree of intensity\nand for some perceptible space of time; that the volition, in other\nwords, is too feeble and too rapid to leave any impression on the\nmemory. To argue that there has been no volition, because we do not\nrecollect it, is as absurd as it would be to say that there has been no\nmuscular act, because in many cases we have as little recollection of\nthe muscular act, as we have of the antecedent volition.\n\nBesides, there are many other mental acts, as rapid as those which have\nbeen adduced,--so rapid that not the least recollection of them\nremains,--where, yet, this mechanical or automatic hypothesis affords\nnot the least explanation. Thus the expert accountant in a Bank adds up\na long column of figures with the same rapidity and ease with which\nordinary persons would read a passage from a familiar author, and he\nbrings out in the end the exact sum, which he can do in no other way\nthan by taking note in passing of the precise character and value of\neach figure. Yet, at the end of such a process, the accountant has no\nmore recollection of those rapidly succeeding acts of the mind, than has\nthe musical performer of those countless volitions put forth in the\ncourse of a piece of brilliant musical instrumentation.\n\nAs to the objection, that the theory attributes an almost inconceivable\nrapidity to some of our mental operations, it may be answered, in the\nfirst place, that there is no reason, surely, why mind should not be\ncapable of as rapid action as its handmaid, matter; and, in the second\nplace, that our ideas of time are relative, quite as much as our ideas\nof space; and if the microscope has revealed a world of wonders too\nminute in point of space to be observed by the naked eye, in whose\nexistence we yet believe with undoubting confidence, we may without\ngreater difficulty believe in the existence of mental acts crowded into\nso narrow a point of time, so rapid and transitory in their occurrence,\nas to leave no impression upon the memory.\n\nThe facts which have been adduced, then, teach clearly two things:\nfirst, that by far the greatest part of what we do and experience and\nare necessarily conscious of at the time of their occurrence,\nimmediately fade from the recollection, as shadows pass over a\nlandscape; and secondly, that in order to the recollection of any act or\nobject, it is necessary that the mind be fixed upon it for some\nperceptible space of time and with some sensible degree of attention. It\nis this indissoluble connection of the attention with memory, this\nabsolute dependence of the latter upon the former, which gives the\nsubject such far-reaching import in considering the means of\nintellectual culture.\n\nHow it is that we are able to exclude all subjects but one from the\nthoughts, is not very easy of explanation. It is obvious that we cannot\ndo it by direct volition. The very fact of our willing not to attend to\na particular object, fixes our attention upon it. That we have, however,\nsome power and agency in fixing our attention on one object and in\nwithdrawing it from another, is a fact within the knowledge and\nexperience of every one, whether we can explain the mode by which it is\ndone or not. We have the power of what the chemists call \"elective\naffinity;\" we make our choice of some one of the various objects\nclaiming the attention, and fix it upon that; and it seems to be a law\nof our nature, that when we thus direct the attention to one object, all\nothers, of themselves, and by some natural necessity, retire from the\nthoughts. This is as near an approach, probably, as we shall ever make,\ntowards an exact verbal expression of a fact, for an intimate knowledge\nof which, after all, every man must refer to his own consciousness.\n\nThis power of singling out and fastening upon some one object to the\nexclusion of all others,--in other words, this power of\nattention--exists in almost infinite degrees in different individuals.\nThe degree in which it exists is the measure of a man's intellectual\nstature. No man can be truly great who does not possess it to a high\ndegree. To command our attention is to command ourselves, to be truly\nmaster of our own powers and resources.\n\nThe subject, then, becomes one of first importance in every kind of\neither mental or moral improvement. Its vital connection with the\nfaculty of memory has been already suggested. Perhaps, however, this\nbranch of the subject should be set forth with a little more\ndistinctness. There are many vague, dreamy notions afloat on the subject\nof memory, standing comparisons and metaphors, intended to illustrate\nits uses and magnify its importance, but not declaring with any degree\nof precision what it is. It is called, for instance, the \"storehouse of\nour ideas.\" The metaphor conveys undoubtedly a certain amount of truth\nin regard to the subject. At the same time, there are some important\nparticulars, in which the comparison, for it is nothing more, conveys a\nwrong impression. Experience teaches us, for instance, that\nrecollections, unlike other articles of store, are from the time of\ntheir deposit undergoing a continual process of decay, and if they do\nnot fade entirely from the mind, it is because we occasionally bring\nthem anew under the review of the mind, and thus restore them to their\noriginal freshness and vigor.\n\nDismissing, therefore, the metaphor, I shall, I presume, express with\nsufficient accuracy the established doctrine on this subject by the\nfollowing statements: that of the great multitude of mental operations\nwhich we experience, by far the larger part perish at the moment of\ntheir birth; that others, to which for any reason we give, at the time\nof their occurrence, some sufficient degree of attention, afterwards\nrecur to us, or are in some way present to our thoughts; that this\nrecurrence of former ideas to our thoughts is sometimes spontaneous,\nwithout any voluntary action on our part, and sometimes the consequence\nof a direct effort of the will; and lastly, that the capacity which we\nhave of being thus revisited by former thoughts is called memory, while\nthe thoughts themselves, which thus return, are called memories, or more\ncommonly recollections.\n\nHow it is that by an act of volition we can summon again into the mind\nan idea which has formerly been present, and which is now absent, we\nhave the same difficulty in explaining which we had in explaining how,\nby an act of volition, we can banish a thought which is now present, or\nby the power of attention can detain some one thought to the exclusion\nof all others. To think what particular thing it is that we wish to\nremember, is in fact to have remembered it already. It is an obstruse\nand difficult inquiry, into which it is not necessary now to enter. A\nmore important inquiry, and one connected directly with our present\ntheme, relates to the different kinds of memory, and their connection\nseverally with the faculty of attention.\n\nQuickness of memory is that quality which is most easily developed,\nespecially in young persons. It is also its most showy quality, and the\ntemptation to give it an inordinate development is strong. The habit of\ngetting things by rote, is easily acquired by practice. It is\nastonishing what masses of Scripture texts young children will get by\nheart, when under some special stimulus of reward or display. I have\noften refused to publish marvellous feats of this kind, not because I\nthought the accounts incredible, (unfortunately, they were too true,)\nbut because I thought they were a species of mental excess, and they\nshould no more be encouraged than bodily excesses. A little girl in my\nown Sunday-School once actually committed to memory the whole of the\nWestminster Assembly's Shorter Catechism in three days! Six months\nafterwards she hardly knew a word of it. It had been a regular mental\ndebauch. A few more such atrocities would have made her an idiot.\nCollege records tell us of what are called \"crammed men,\" that is, men\nwho literally stuff themselves with knowledge in order to pass a\nparticular examination, or to gain a particular honor, and who\nafterwards forget their knowledge, as fast as they have acquired it.\nThere is a well authenticated instance of a student who actually learned\nthe six books of Euclid by heart, though he could not tell the\ndifference between an angle and a triangle. The memory of such men is\nquickened like that of the parrot. They learn purely by rote. Real\nmental attention, the true digester of knowledge, is never roused. The\nknowledge which they gorge, is never truly assimilated and made their\nown.\n\nA quality of memory vastly more important than quickness, is tenacity.\nTo hold on to what we get, is the secret of mental, no less than of\npecuniary accumulations. The mind, too, like other misers, clings most\ntenaciously to that which has cost it most labor. Come lightly, go\nlightly, the world over. Knowledge which comes into the mind without\ntoil and effort, without protracted and laborious attention, is apt to\ngo as easily as it came.\n\nBut, by far the most important quality of memory, for the practical\npurposes of life, is readiness. Like quickness and tenacity, it is to be\ngreatly improved, if not acquired by practice. It is in the cultivation\nof this quality, that the power of a good teacher shines forth most\nconspicuously. Quickness and tenacity may be cultivated by solitary\nstudy. But readiness requires for its development a live teacher, and\nthe stir of the school-room and the class. Here it is that the art of\nquestioning shows its wonderful resources. Repeated and continued\ninterrogatories, judiciously worded, have a sort of talismanic power.\nThey oblige the scholar to bring out his knowledge from its hidden\nrecesses, to turn it over and over, and inside out, and upside down, to\nlook at it and to handle it, so that not only it becomes forever and\nindestructibly his own, but he can ever afterwards use it at will with\nthe same readiness that he uses his hands or his eyes. This is what a\nskilful teacher may do for his scholars, by a knowledge and practice of\nthe art of questioning. Unfortunately, teachers in general find it much\neasier passively to hear a lesson, than to muster as much intellectual\nenergy as is necessary to ask a question.\n\nIt was a remark of Bacon's, that, if we wish to commit anything to\nmemory, we will accomplish more in ten readings, if at each perusal we\nmake the attempt to repeat it from memory, referring to the book only\nwhen the memory fails, than we would by a hundred readings made in the\nordinary way, and without any intervening trials. The explanation of\nthis fact is, that each effort to recollect the passage secures to the\nsubsequent perusal a more intense degree of attention; and it seems to\nbe a law of our nature, not only that there is no memory without\nattention, which I have labored at some length to establish, but that\nthe degree of memory is in a great measure proportioned to the degree of\nthe attention.\n\nYou will see at once the bearing of this fact upon that species of\nintellectual dissipation, called \"general reading,\" in which the mental\nvoluptuary reads merely for momentary excitement, in the gratification\nof an idle curiosity, and which is as enervating and debilitating to the\nintellectual faculties, as other kinds of dissipation are to the bodily\nfunctions. One book, well read and thoroughly digested, nay, one single\ntrain of thought, carefully elaborated and attentively considered, is\nworth more than any conceivable amount of that indolent, dreamy sort of\nreading in which many persons indulge. There is in fact no more unsafe\ncriterion of knowledge than the number of books a man has read. A young\nman once told me he had read the entire list of publications of the\nAmerican Sunday-School Union. He was about as wise as the man at the\nhotel, who began at the top of the bill of fare with the intention of\neating straight through to the bottom! Depend upon it, this mental\ngorging is debilitating and debauching alike to the moral and the\nintellectual constitution. There is too much reading even of good books.\nNo one should ever read a book, without subsequent meditation or\nconversation about it, and an attempt to make the thoughts his own, by a\nvigorous process of mental assimilation. Any continuous intellectual\noccupation, which does not leave us wiser and stronger, most assuredly\nwill leave us weaker, just as filling the body with food which it does\nnot digest, only makes it feeble and sickly. We are the worse for\nreading any book, if we are not the better for it.\n\nThere is an obvious distinction on this subject, of some practical\nimportance, first suggested, so far as I am aware, by the Scotch\nmetaphysician, Dr. Reid, between attention as directed to external\nobjects, and the same faculty directed to what passes within us. When we\nattend to what is without us, to what we hear, or see, or smell, or\ntaste, or touch, the process is called observation. When, on the other\nhand, dismissing for the time all notice of the external world, we turn\nour thoughts inward, and consider only what is passing in the inner\nchambers of the mind,--when, for instance, we analyze our motives, or\nnotice the workings of passion, or scan the mysterious and subtle agency\nof the will, the process is called reflection. This latter species of\nattention is one much more difficult of development than the former.\nIt is developed ordinarily much later in life,--seldom, I\nbelieve, developed to any considerable extent before the age of\nmanhood,--developed by some professions and pursuits much more than by\nothers,--and in a very large class of mankind, probably the majority,\nnever developed at all.\n\nThis species of attention, which is thus directed inwards, subjective\nattention some would call it,--in other words, the reflective\npowers,--are, I doubt not, capable of being cultivated much earlier in\nlife than the age which I have indicated as the normal period of their\ndevelopment. I am constrained, however, in opposition to many high\nauthorities in education, to doubt the wisdom of a precocious\ncultivation of this part of our intellectual system. In all our plans of\neducation, we should closely follow nature, who seems to have reserved\nthe judgment and the reflective powers for the latest, as they certainly\nare the most perfect, of her endowments. We, who are teachers, have\nchiefly to do with those whose powers are as yet immature, and whose\nattention is to be cultivated primarily in its direction to external\nobjects. Our business, in other words, is to train our pupils first of\nall to habits of observation.\n\nIn doing this, it is of some practical importance to bear in mind the\nwell-known difference, in respect to memory, between the objects of\ndifferent senses. Whether it be attributed to the different degrees of\nperfection with which the qualities of bodies are perceived, or to some\ndifference in the qualities themselves, or whatever may be the cause,\nthe fact is established beyond a question, that the knowledge which\ncomes to us through the medium of the eye is of all kinds of knowledge\nthe most easily and the most perfectly remembered. We remember, indeed,\nthe temperature of one day as distinguished from that of another; we\nremember the sound of a voice; we can conceive, in its absence, the odor\nor the taste of a particular object; but none of these ideas come to us\nwith that definiteness and perfection which mark our recollections of\nwhat we have seen. It requires, for instance, but ordinary powers of\nattention and perception, for a person who has one good look at a house,\nto recall distinctly to his mind the ideas of its height, shape, color,\nmaterial, the number of stories, the pitch of the roof, the kind of\nshutters to the windows, the position of the door, the fashion of\npanels, the bell-handle, the plate, even the little canary-bird with its\ncage in the windows above, and the roses, geraniums, and what else may\nbe fairer still, in the window below. These are all objects of sight. In\ntheir absence, he can bring to mind and describe them, with almost the\nsame accuracy that he could if they were actually present. Now, it is\nimpossible to obtain a like precision and fulness in our conceptions of\na quality which we have learned through any other sense. We form in the\none case a mental image or picture of the object, which in the other\ncase is impossible. We can by no possibility form a mental or any other\nimage of the song of canary, of the perfume of a rose, or of any other\nquality, except those which address us through the eye. Our conceptions\nof taste, smell, touch, and even of hearing, in the absence of the\nobjects of sense, have a certain dimness, vagueness, mistiness,\nuncertainty about them. The conceptions of visible objects, on the\ncontrary, are definite, precise, and most easily recalled. Hence the\nknowledge derived through the sight, is, of all kinds of knowledge, the\nmost accurate, the most easily acquired, and the most lasting.\n\nThe practical application of these views to the science of teaching, is\ntoo obvious to require more than a passing notice. Every thing which the\nyoung are to make the subject of their attention, for the purpose of\nremembering it, should be represented as far as possible to the eye. If\nthe object itself, on account of its bulk, or its expensiveness, or for\nany other reason, cannot be exhibited for inspection, let there be some\nvisible delineation of it by brush or pencil. If the thing to be\nremembered be something abstract or unreal, having neither form nor\nsubstance, perhaps it may have, or the teacher may make for it, some\nconcrete, visible symbol, as has been done with the formulas of logic\nand the abstractions of arithmetic and algebra. These visible symbols on\nthe slate and the blackboard give to those sciences all the advantages\nin this respect which were supposed to be peculiar to some of the\nbranches of physical science. A boy who has forgotten every mere verbal\nrule both of arithmetic and algebra, will remember the formula,\nx^2 + 2xy + y^2, just as perfectly and on the same principle, as he will\nremember the face of the man who taught it to him. It is something which\nhe has seen. Why has geometry in all ages been found to be of such\npeculiar value as a means of intellectual training? Because of the\nvisible delineation of its doctrines by diagrams addressed to the eye.\nHow much more readily and certainly chemical science can now be acquired,\nsince the adoption of the present mode of symbolizing its doctrines by\ncombinations of letters and figures. Arguments, conjectures, theories,\nrespecting qualities addressed alike to every sense, respecting functions\nindeed not cognizable by any sense, are now presented on the board in\nvisible symbolic formulas, which have the same advantage over the former\nmode of presenting the subject, that the sight of a chess-board during\nthe progress of a game has over a mere verbal description of the\nmovements.\n\nThe truth of this doctrine is strikingly illustrated in the present\nmode of teaching geography, as compared with that once in use, when a\nchild, instead of looking at the map of a country, with its boundaries\nand other physical characters painted to the eye, had to grope through a\ntrackless wilderness of description. The study will be still more\nimproved, when children shall be universally required to make as well as\nto look at maps,--when, to the definiteness of knowledge coming through\nthe sight, there shall be added that inerasible impression upon the\nmemory, which comes from fixedness and continuity of attention. It is\nimpossible for a child to draw a map, without looking intently, and with\ncontinued attention, upon every part of that which is to be delineated.\nThe two conditions to perfect recollection are combined, and the\nknowledge, which is the result, is the very last to fade from the\nmemory.\n\nEvery teacher of small children knows how much more certainly they learn\nto spell by seeing than by hearing. You may repeat to a child five times\nover the sounds which make up a word, and he will not recollect it with\nhalf the certainty that he would on seeing it once. The same principle\nwhich leads to this result, and which indicates the propriety, not only\nof looking at maps but of making them, in order to the more perfect\nknowledge of geography, will suggest to the thoughtful teacher the\nexpediency of children's not only looking at words, but of writing them,\nin order to become perfect spellers.\n\nMental arithmetic has its fascinations. It has, too, I am ready to\nadmit, solid advantages. Its advantages, however, I apprehend are not\nprecisely those which are sometimes attributed to it. There can be no\ndoubt, I think, that it helps to cultivate the reflective powers; that\nit requires, and by requiring gives, the ability to confine the\nattention to continued mental processes. But for making expert practical\naccountants, which is generally quoted as its distinguishing benefit, I\nconfess I am partial to the slate and pencil, and to that venerable\nparallelogram, the old-fashioned Multiplication Table, in the shape it\ncame down to us from Pythagoras.\n\nThe reader will not, of course, understand me as wishing to discard\nMental arithmetic. All that I mean to suggest is the inquiry, whether\nits advantages are not looked for in the wrong direction, whether they\nare not sometimes over-estimated, and whether this mode of teaching\narithmetic, especially when pursued as a hobby, is not sometimes pushed\ntoo far, and made the means of curious display, rather than of solid and\nlasting benefit. In teaching mental arithmetic, too, for I would\ncertainly teach it to some extent, I would suggest the expediency of\nteaching children, in performing these mental operations, to think in\nfigures, in other words, to form conceptions of the arithmetical figures\nand signs, which are visible objects, rather than of quantities and\nrelations, which are mere abstractions. Multiplication is a mere\nmetaphysical entity. The sign of multiplication is a simple, visible\nsymbol, addressed to the eye, and capable of being conceived by the mind\nwith unmistakable clearness and precision. A child counting its fingers\nin the first steps of learning to add and to take away, is a pretty\nsight, doubtless. But it is painful to see a person grown to man's\nestate, and in other respects well educated, as I have very often seen,\nstill dependent upon the same infantile contrivance,--still counting\nfingers when required to add long columns of figures. Count the fingers,\nif necessary, in order to get the child under way. But the sooner the\nleading-string can be dropped, and the child can be made to picture in\nhis mind the pure figures and signs, their combinations and results,\nwithout reference to fingers, or apples, or cakes, or tops, the better\nfor his arithmetic, and the better for his mental cultivation.\n\nThe subject has a painful interest for the Sabbath-School Teacher. The\nteacher of the infant school, indeed, has some opportunity for employing\nthis principle of pictorial representation, in teaching the little ones\nof his charge. The infant school-room usually has conveniences for maps\nand picture cards and diagrams, and even blackboards; and most infant\nschool teachers wisely avail themselves of the opportunity afforded. But\ngo into the main school-room--what can the teacher do? Twenty, thirty,\nforty classes huddled together into one room, compact as sheep in a pen,\nhow can the individual teacher, if disposed, use adequate visible\nillustrations for the instruction of his class? Where shall he place his\nblackboard? where shall he hang up his maps? where shall he suspend his\nmodels? where shall he exhibit his specimens? The utmost that can be\ndone in most of our schools, as at present provided for, is to have a\nfew maps on the distant walls of the room which the superintendent may\nrefer to, whenever he chooses, and which all the children may see who\ncan! The time must come, however, when the teaching of religious truth\nwill be considered of as much importance as the teaching of arithmetic\nor of chemistry, and the Sabbath-School will have the same facilities\nfor imparting instruction as the week-day school. But that time has not\nyet come. In the meanwhile, let the teacher carefully avail himself of\nwhatever subsidiary aids are within his reach. No teacher should ever\npresent himself before his class without a Bible Atlas and a Bible\nDictionary in his hand. Many of those things with which his class ought\nto be made acquainted, are here not only described, but delineated, with\nequal accuracy and beauty. Thanks to the booksellers and the religious\npublication societies, the scenes of sacred history, and indeed\nreligious topics generally, have been illustrated in cheap pictorial\ncards, both large and small, and with admirable fidelity and skill.\nThese form a part of the indispensable furniture of the Sunday-School\nteacher. They are to him as necessary as are experiments, or a cabinet\nof specimens, to the lecturer on the physical sciences. The\nSabbath-School teacher should be continually on the look-out for\npublications of this kind, not only for instructing and furnishing his\nown mind with definite ideas, but for exhibition to his class. A wise\nteacher will not only have something to say to his class, but also\nsomething to show. The ideas which the child gets from looking at really\ninstructive pictures and maps, never leave him. How much also our\nintelligent apprehension of the scriptures is increased, by a knowledge\nof topography, and by associating each event in the sacred narration\nwith the place in which it occurred?\n\nIt may be proper to say, too, in this connection, that it is with a view\nto the principle now under consideration, that in preparing books and\npapers for the young, authors and publishers feel justified in giving so\nmuch labor and space to pictorial illustration. When, indeed, such\nillustrations are merely for display, they deserve the contempt which\nthey often receive. But when these pictorial illustrations have a\ndefinite meaning and design, when they teach something, when they\nconnect in the child's mind sound religious truth with distinct and\neasily remembered visible forms, they are a really valuable aid in the\ninculcation of doctrine.\n\nThe power of attention, like all the mental powers, is by nature greater\nin some than in others. Still, there is no power more susceptible of\nimprovement. The importance of its cultivation cannot well be\nover-stated. It affects not one study only, but all studies; not one\nmode of study only, but every mode of study, by text-book or by lecture;\nlessons to be recited by memory, or those by question and answer; not\neven study only, but conduct and manners, the regulation of the heart\nand the formation of the character. The precise measure of a child's\nsuccess, in every thing that pertains to his character and standing as a\nscholar, will in nine cases out of ten be his power and habit of\nattention. There are indeed lamentable cases of wilful and intentional\ndisorder. Yet every teacher knows that by far the greater portion of the\nthings which interrupt and disturb a school arise from thoughtlessness\nand inattention. There are also equally undoubted cases of ignorance\nthat is no crime. Yet the great majority of those who fail in their\nstudies, fail simply because they do not attend. To attend, however,\nmeans something more than merely to be bodily present, more even than\nto have the ears open and the eyes fixed in the direction of the\nspeaker, when a thing is said, or done. An old lady used to sit in the\nsame aisle with me in church, and unfortunately lived opposite me in the\nstreet, who was neither deaf nor blind, and who was never absent from\nchurch, and yet she sent over invariably on Sunday evenings to know what\nit was the minister said about that meeting on Wednesday night, or that\nmeeting on Friday night,--she did not rightly understand!\n\nBut it is not necessary to go to church, to find those who \"having eyes\nsee not, and having ears hear not, neither do they understand,\" who look\nwithout seeing, and hear without comprehending. Publish a notice in your\nschool, making some change of hours or lessons, or giving any specific\ndirection. No matter how simple, or how plainly expressed, the notice\nmay be, or how particularly attention may be called beforehand to the\nannouncement about to be made, where is the happy teacher who has been\nable on such an occasion to make himself understood by all? Teachers and\npreachers and speakers of every name have generally very little idea how\nmuch they are misunderstood. Let me give some instances.\n\nIn my own Sunday-School, I had neglected one morning to bring with me\nthe teacher's class-books. After opening the school, I rang the bell as\na signal for attention. There was a general hush throughout the room.\nAll eyes were turned to the desk. I said: \"Your class-books\nunfortunately have been left behind this morning. They have been sent\nfor, however, and they will soon be here. As soon as they come, I will\nbring them round to the several classes. In the meantime, you may go on\nwith your regular lessons.\" The bell was then tapped again, and the\nroutine of the school resumed. In about a minute, a girl came up to the\ndesk, with, \"Sir, teacher says, will you please to send her class-book;\nit was not brought round, as usual, this morning, before school opened!\"\nHere was a class of ten girls, averaging twelve years of age, and not\none of them, nor their teacher, had heard or understood the notice which\nI thought I had made so plain!\n\nHere is another instance. At the examination for admission to the\nPhiladelphia High School, as a means of testing among other things how\nfar this very faculty of hearing and of attention has been cultivated,\nthe candidates are required to copy a passage from dictation. These\nexercises are always preserved for reference, and in order to show the\nfairness of the examination. On one occasion, when I was Principal of\nthe School, I took the pains to copy out a few of the exercises, in\norder to show the singular freaks into which an uncultivated ear may be\nled. One or two specimens will serve to illustrate the point. The first\nclause with its variations, was as follows:--\n\n  Every breach of veracity indicates some latent vice.\n    \"   bridge \"  rascality   \"       \"   latest vice.\n    \"   breech \"  feracity    \"       \"   latinet vice.\n    \"   preach \"  eracity     \"       \"   late   device.\n    \"   branch \"  vivacity    \"       \"   great advice.\n    \"     \"    \"  veracity    \"       \"   late advice.\n    \"     \"    \"     \"        \"       \"   ladovice.\n    \"     \"    \"     \"        \"       \"   ladened vice.\n  Every branch of veracity in the next some latent vice.\n  Every reach of their ascidity indicates some advice.\n\nIn another part of the passage occurred the following:\n\n  Petty operations.\n  Petty alterations.\n  Petty observations.\n  Patriarchal occupations.\n  Petty oblations.\n\nNow of what use is it to a boy who mistakes \"petty\" for \"patriarchal,\"\n\"latent vice\" for \"great advice,\" \"breach of veracity\" for \"reach of\ntheir ascidity,\" who is so untrained that he really cannot hear what is\nsaid, or see what is done,--of what use is it to such a boy, merely\nbecause he has gone through a prescribed routine of books and classes,\nor perchance because he has attained a certain amount of years and of\npounds avoirdupois, to be pushed forward into a higher department to\nattend lectures on chemistry, or anatomy, or morals, or history, or\nliterature? It is preposterous. It is an insult to the Professor, and an\ninjury to the boy.\n\nThis, then, is the burden of my song. We cannot take too much pains in\nearly life in rousing this power of attention. Depend upon it, no matter\nhow much learning, so called, is crammed into a youth, his intellectual\ndevelopment has not begun until this power is roused. He may have a\nvague, dreamy sort of knowledge; he may do sums by rule, and he may\nparse by rote, and do many other wondrous things; but his powers are not\ninvigorated, he does not grow, until he begins really to see and hear,\nand feel _terra firma_ under his feet.\n\nThe principle which I am illustrating applies with special force to that\npart of a child's education which consists in learning the meaning of\nwords. I have serious doubts whether children ordinarily learn much of\nthe real meaning of words by committing definitions to memory. What is a\ndefinition? It is only expressing the meaning of one word by the use of\nanother word as nearly as possible synonymous. Now, in the case of a\nchild, it is at least an even chance that that other word is just as\nunknown as the one it is intended to explain. It is like, in algebra,\nsolving an equation with two unknown quantities, by giving the value of\none unknown quantity in terms of the other. A child, for instance, is\ntold that \"potent\" means \"efficacious,\" that \"power\" means \"ability,\"\nthat \"potion\" means a \"physical draught,\" that \"potential\" means\n\"existing in possibility, not in act.\" These are definitions taken at\nrandom from a book in common use in our public schools. The definitions\npossibly are good enough for the purpose for which they were designed. I\nam not quarrelling with the definitions. But, surely, it is not by these\nthat a child is to learn the meaning of the words. Whether he is told\nthat \"power\" means \"ability,\" or \"ability\" means \"power,\" that \"potent\"\nmeans \"efficacious,\" or \"efficacious\" means \"potent,\" in neither case,\nnine times out of ten, is any addition made to his stock of knowledge.\nIt is not until much later in life,--until in fact our knowledge of\nwords is already very much extended, that we profit much by learning\nformal definitions. But in childhood, we must learn the meaning and\npower of words, just as the mechanic becomes acquainted with his tools,\nby observing their use. A boy, for instance, reads this sentence. \"The\ndrug was very _efficacious_.\" If the word is quite new to him, and there\nis nothing in the clause preceding or following to indicate its meaning,\nit is not at all unlikely that he may suppose it to mean \"poisonous.\"\nIf, however, from the context, he finds that a person who had been sick,\nwas made suddenly well, and this statement followed by the remark, that\n\"the drug was very _efficacious_,\" he will probably get the idea that\nthe word means \"healing,\" or \"curative.\" He reads again, in another\nplace, that a certain mode of teaching penmanship was found to be very\n\"efficacious.\" Here is a new use of the word, quite different from the\nother, and he is obliged to exclude from his idea of its meaning every\nthing like \"healing.\" So he goes on, every fresh example cutting off\nsome extraneous idea which the previous examples had led him to attach\nto the word, and every step onward coming nearer to the general idea,\nthough he may never express it in words, of something which accomplished\nits object, whatever that object may be. It is, I believe, chiefly by\nobserving in this way the manner in which words are used, that children\ndo and must learn their meaning. It is, in other words, by quickening\nand cultivating the habit of attention to the meaning,--by training a\nchild, when he is reading, to imagine, not that he is reading the words,\nbut that he is reading the sense, by accustoming him to look through the\nword, to the sense, just as he would look at objects out of doors\nthrough the window, and to consider the words, as he would consider the\nglass, merely as a medium, through which, and unmindful of it, he looks\nat something beyond,--_which something is the meaning_.\n\nLet me not be misunderstood in regard to this matter of definitions. I\nbelieve it to be of the utmost importance that children should be\nconstantly required to give definitions or explanations of the words\nwhose meaning they have acquired. All I mean to call in question is,\nwhether that meaning to any considerable extent is acquired by\ncommitting to memory formal definitions prepared by others. When they\nhave once learned the meaning of a word, which is to be done mainly, if\nnot only, by observing its use, then by all means let them be required\nto express that meaning by other words which they know. Such an exercise\ncannot be too much insisted on. It is one of the best means of securing\nthat attention to the signification of words, which is so much wanted.\nIt requires the child, moreover, to bring his knowledge continually to\nthe test. It cultivates at once accuracy of thought, and accuracy of\nlanguage, which is the vehicle of thought. Train a child, therefore, to\nthe habit of attention, first to the meaning of words as gathered from\nobservation of their use, and secondly to the expression of that meaning\nin language appropriate and intelligible to others.\n\nI have dwelt a little on this subject, because, as in the matter of\nhearing, I doubt whether people generally are aware how little children\nunderstand what they read. Nor is this ignorance confined to children.\nIn our acts of devotion, we are all in the habit of using certain\nstereotyped phrases, without attaching to them any definite meaning,\nwithout perhaps so much as having even thought whether they had a\nmeaning. This same pernicious habit is seen also in our reading of the\nScriptures. We have read the phrases over from childhood, until we have\nbecome so familiar with them, that we are obliged often to stop, and by\na sort of compulsory process to challenge each word as it passes, and\nsee whether it really conveys any meaning to our mind.\n\nIf I were to say to a class, \"The Bible tells us of a man who was older\nthan his father,\" or some such apparent contradiction in terms, the\nsharp antithesis would doubtless arrest their attention, and I would at\nleast be asked to explain myself. Yet, ten to one, they have read,\nhundreds of times, of him who is \"the _root_ and the _offspring_ of\nDavid, the bright and morning star,\" without noticing anything at all\nremarkable in the expression. It is to them merely something good and\npious, couched in a very pleasant and sonorous flow of words, and\nmeaning doubtless something very comforting and edifying.\n\nI was once teaching temporarily a young ladies' Bible Class. The average\nage of the members was at least seventeen. They were the pick from a\nlarge city school, and had been selected for their superior educational\nadvantages and attainments. Most of them were attending expensive\nprivate schools during the week. Wishing to satisfy myself as to the\ngeneral knowledge and the intellectual habits of the members, I took the\nplan of simply reading verse about, stopping from time to time to talk\nfamiliarly about anything which might happen to suggest itself. This\nverse among others was read: it is from the account of the miracle on\nthe day of Pentecost: \"And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like\nas of fire, and it sat upon each of them.\" I found, upon inquiring,\nthat _not one_ in that large class had the remotest idea of what was\nmeant by the word \"cloven.\" One young lady thought it meant \"fiery,\"\nanother \"flaming,\" another \"winged,\" and so on. Most of them, however,\nsaid that they really had never thought of the matter before. Probably\nevery one of them had read the passage hundreds of times; and when we\nbegan talking about it, no one of them seemed to have an idea that there\nwas anything in the verse which she did not understand. It was not until\nI took it up, word by word, and challenged a peremptory and sharp\nscrutiny into the meaning attached to each word, that the remarkable\nfact came out which I have stated.\n\nOne or two more leaves from my professional experience will be given.\n\nDuring the greater part of my professional life, it has been a part of\nmy duty to examine candidates for the office of teacher in the public\nschools. Out of ninety-eight candidates for the office of assistant\nteacher, whom I examined on one occasion, only one knew the meaning of\nthe word \"sumptuary,\" although in the public discussion then going on\nabout the license law, the word was in daily use in the public papers;\nin fact, I took it out of the newspaper of that morning. On another\noccasion, out of fourteen candidates for the office of Principal teacher\nof a boys' Grammar school, four defined \"friable\" as that which can be\nfried; several did not know at all the meaning of \"hibernating,\" and\none, the successful candidate, said it meant \"relating to Ireland.\" By\n\"successful\" candidate, I mean the one who got the vote of the\nDirectors!\n\nThis sober scrutiny into any one's knowledge of the meaning of words in\ncommon use, is one of the most reliable tests of his general\nintellectual progress and cultivation. It is one of the means by which\nin many city schools it is customary to test a candidate's fitness for\npromotion. To show how little people generally, and even teachers, are\naware of the extent to which children misconceive the meaning of words\nin common use, I have transcribed a few examples from an examination of\nthe kind which I once held. The definitions which I am about to quote\nwere not the work of oral confusion and haste, but were given in\nwriting, in circumstances of entire quietude and ample deliberation. The\naverage age of the candidates, on the occasion referred to, was fourteen\nyears and ten months, and no one of them was by law under thirteen\nyears.\n\n     _Stature_--A picture; \"I saw a stature of Washington.\"\n\n     _Fabulous_--Full of threads; \"Silk is fabulous.\"\n\n     _Accession_--The act of eating a great deal; \"John got very sick\n     after dinner by accession.\"\n\n     _Atonement_--A small insect; \"Queen Mab was pulled by little\n     atonements.\" Sound, [orthodox]; \"They went to the church of the\n     Atonement.\"\n\n     _Auxiliary_--To form; \"The gardener did auxiliary his garden.\"\n\n     _Ingredient_--A native-born; \"Tobacco is an ingredient of this\n     country.\"\n\n     _Fragment_--Sweetmeats; \"It was a fragment.\"\n\n     _Develop_--To swallow up; \"God sent a whale to develop Jonah.\"\n\n     _Exotic_--Relating to a government; \"Some countries have a very\n     exotic government.\" Patriotic; \"He was exotic in the cause of\n     Independence.\" Absolute; \"The government of Turkey is exotic.\"\n     Standing out; \"The company were exotic.\"\n\n     _Circumference_--Distance through the middle. Distance around the\n     middle of the outside.\n\n     _Callous_--Something which cannot be effected; \"That America should\n     gain her independence was supposed to be callous.\"\n\n     _Mobility_--Belonging to the people; \"The mobility of St. Louis has\n     greatly increased.\"\n\n     _Anomalous_--Powerful; \"His speech was considered anomalous.\"\n\n     _Adequate_--A land animal; \"An elephant is an adequate.\"\n\n     _Transition_--The act of transcribing; \"The transition of that book\n     was gaining ground in the public mind.\"\n\n     _Gregarious_--Pertaining to idols; \"The Sandwich Islands worship\n     gregarious.\" Pertaining to an oak; \"The Druids were noted for their\n     gregarious exercises.\" Consisting of grain. Grass-eating. Full of\n     talk. Full of color.\n\n     _Propensity_--Dislike; \"He had a propensity to study.\"\n\n     _Artificially_--Belonging to flowers.\n\n     _Fluctuation_--coming in great numbers; \"There was a great\n     fluctuation of emigrants.\" Setting on fire. Beating.\n\n     _Odium_--That you have a great tact at anything; \"Your odium is\n     very great.\" A poisonous herb. Pertaining to song; \"He was an\n     odium writer.\" A sweet smell; \"The odium of new-mown hay.\"\n\n     _Transverse_--To turn over; \"Transverse that bucket and see what is\n     in it.\" To change from verse; \"Some writers change books from\n     transverse to verse.\" To verse again; \"He transversed his copy.\" To\n     spread abroad; \"They transverse the Bible.\"\n\n     _Utility_--Relating to the soil; \"The ground it remarkable for its\n     utility.\"\n\n     _Quadruple_--Relating to birds; \"There was a number of quadruple.\"\n\n     _Alternate_--Not ternate.\n\n     _Menace_--A tare in the flesh; \"The dog caused a menace in John's\n     arm.\"\n\n     _Vital_--Relating to death; \"Vital spark of heavenly flame.\"\n\n     _Intrinsic_--not trinsic. Weak, feeble; \"He was a very intrinsic\n     old man.\"\n\n     _Subservient_--One opposed to the upholding of servants. Stubborn;\n     \"On account of the boy being subservient he was turned out of\n     school.\"\n\n     _Perfidy_--Trust; not to cheat; \"Such a man is perfidy; that is,\n     everything can be trusted to him.\" Accessible; \"Some persons have a\n     great deal of perfidy.\"\n\n     _Access_--Intermission; \"Joseph had access of his teacher to go\n     into the room.\"\n\n     _Vicinity_--In the same direction; \"Pekin is in the vicinity of\n     Philadelphia.\"\n\n     _Subsequent_--Preceding; \"The subsequent chapter.\"\n\n     _Infectious_--To make fectious.\n\n     _Exquisite_--To be in a quisitive manner. To help. To find out.\n     Talkative. Not required.\n\n     _Mingle_--To tear in pieces.\n\n     _Deride_--To ride down.\n\n     _Manifold_--Made by the hand. Pertaining to man; \"Forgive our\n     manifold sins.\"\n\nI have failed entirely in the general drift of this chapter, if I have\nnot made it obvious that the principle which I have been attempting to\nillustrate is one of singularly pervading influence, and of most various\nand manifold applications. The subject is indeed eminently suggestive.\nOne single additional line of illustration, however, must suffice. I\nrefer to the application of this principle to what may be called the\nincidentals of teaching and training.\n\nA child, for instance, should not only \"spell out of book,\" as it is\ncalled, but his attention should by some means be directed to the way in\nwhich words are spelled. He should be accustomed to form, as it were, a\nmental image of each word, to think of it as having a particular form\nand appearance, so that his eye will detect instantly a wanting or an\nexcrescent letter, just as he sees a wen, a defective limb, or a\ndistorted feature on the person of an acquaintance. Only fire his young\nambition with the aim to spell well, and quicken his attention to the\nway in which words are spelled, and every time he reads a book he\nreceives incidentally a lesson in spelling.\n\nA child should have stated exercises and systematic instructions in the\nart of reading. But quite as much improvement in this important and too\nmuch neglected accomplishment may be gained by not allowing children at\nany time to read in an improper manner. Every demonstration at the\nblackboard, every text or hymn repeated from memory, every recitation in\narithmetic, grammar, or geography, every exercise of every kind in which\nthe voice is used and words are uttered, may be made an incidental\nlesson in reading. By being never allowed to pronounce words\nincorrectly, to utter them in a low or drawling manner, or to crowd and\noverlap them, as it were, one upon the other, the ear becomes accustomed\nto the correct sounds of the language, and immediately detects any\nvariation from its accustomed standard. By thus insisting, in every\nvocal exercise, upon the full and correct pronunciation of the\nelementary sounds of the language, more may be done to make good readers\nand speakers than by all the pronouncing dictionaries and elocution\nbooks in print.\n\nLet a child by all means take lessons in writing. Let him learn plain\ntext, German text, round hand, running hand, back hand, and the\nflourishes. But if he is to become rapidly master of that truly\nbeautiful and most useful accomplishment, let the teacher insist upon\nhis always attending to his manner of writing, and always writing as\nwell as he can. Whether he writes a composition, a sketch, a letter,\nwhenever for any purpose he puts pen to paper, let him be required to\nform each letter distinctly, to write it gracefully, and to give to his\nexercise a neat and elegant appearance. Teach him to think of a crooked\nline or a blotted page as of an untied shoe, or a dirty face. By thus\nmaking every written exercise an exercise in writing, his progress will\nbe increased beyond your expectations, and you will soon see him looking\nwith pleasure at the clean and symmetrical forms which flow so\ngracefully from his pen, as he goes from line to line over the virgin\npage, no half-formed or misshapen letters to embarrass, but all in every\npart as elegantly written as it is easily read.\n\nGrammar should no doubt be taught by text-book and in stated lessons.\nThe parts of speech, the conjugations and declensions, syntax and\nparsing, must all be systematically conned, the rules and definitions\ncommitted to memory, and the judgment exercised upon their application.\nAt the same time every recitation of a child, as well as all his\nconversation, ought to be made an incidental and unconscious lesson in\ngrammar. Only never allow him to use unchallenged an incorrect or\nungrammatical expression, train his ear to detect and revolt at it, as\nat a discordant note in music, let him if possible hear nothing but\nsterling, honest English, and he will then learn grammar to some\npurpose. If, on the contrary, he is allowed to recite and to talk in\nwhatever language comes uppermost, and to hear continually those around\nhim reciting and talking in a similar manner, he may parse till he is\nblind without learning \"to speak and write the English language\ncorrectly.\" Banish from the nursery, the school-room, and the\nplay-ground, incorrect and ungrammatical expressions, and you do more\nthan can be done in all other ways to preserve \"the well of English\nundefiled.\"\n\nYoung persons need systematic instructions in the principles which\nshould govern their conduct. They need not indeed be troubled with the\nmore abstruse questions in the theory of morals. But the great obvious\nrules of duty should be taught them, in a systematic manner, by a\ncompetent instructor. But that man would be thought little acquainted\nwith the influences which go to mould and form the character, who should\nsuppose the matter ended here. The doctrines inculcated in the lesson,\nmust be carried out and applied in all the petty incidents of the day.\nNot an hour passes in a large family or a school, without an occurrence\ninvolving some principle in morals. A boy of moderate talents,\nnotwithstanding all his exertions, is eclipsed by one more gifted, and\nhe is tempted to envy. Imagining himself aggrieved or insulted by his\nfellows, he burns for revenge. Overtaken in a fault and threatened with\npunishment, he is tempted to lie. Misled by the opinion of others, or\nesteeming some rule of his teachers harsh and unnecessary, he is\ninclined to disobey. These and a hundred other instances which might be\nnamed, will suggest to the thoughtful parent or teacher so many\nopportunities for giving incidentally the most important practical\ninstruction in morals.\n\nIn these and the manifold other illustrations which might be given, the\nessential point is to quicken and keep alive the attention. Whatever be\nthe subject of study, and whether the instructions be direct or\nincidental, let children be preserved from attending to it in a\nsluggish, listless, indifferent manner. The subject of study, in the\ncase of young persons, is often of less importance than the manner of\nstudy. I have been led sometimes to doubt the value of many of the\ninventions for facilitating the acquisition of knowledge by children.\nThat knowledge the acquisition of which costs no labor, will not be\nlikely to make a deep impression, or to remain long upon the memory. It\nis by labor that the mind strengthens and grows: and while care should\nbe taken not to overtask it by exertions beyond its strength, yet let it\nnever be forgotten that mere occupation of the mind, even with useful\nand proper objects, is not the precise aim of education. The educator\naims, not to make learned boys, but able men. To do this, he must tax\ntheir powers. He must rouse them to manly exertion. He must teach them\nto think, to discriminate, to digest what they have received, to work.\nEvery day there must be the glow of hard work,--not the exhaustion and\nlanguor which arise from too protracted confinement to study,--which\nhave the same debilitating effect upon the mind that a similar process\nhas upon the body,--but vigorous and hardy labor, such as wakens the\nmind from its lethargy, summons up the resolution and the will, and puts\nthe whole internal man into a state of determined and positive activity.\nThe boy in such a case feels that he is at work. He feels, too, that he\nis gaining something more than knowledge. He is gaining power. He is\ngrowing in strength. He grapples successfully to-day with a difficulty\nthat would have staggered him yesterday. There is no mistaking this\nprocess; and no matter what the subject of study, the intellectual\ndevelopment what it gives, is worth infinitely more than all that vague,\nfloating kind of knowledge sometimes sought after, which seems to be\nimbibed somehow from the atmosphere of the school-room, as it certainly\nevaporates the moment a boy enters the atmosphere of men and of active\nlife.\n\n\n\n\nXXVII.\n\nGAINING THE ATTENTION.\n\n\nThe teacher who fails to get the attention of his scholars, fails\ntotally. The pupils may perhaps learn something, because they may give\nthe lesson some study at home, under the direction of their parents. But\nthey learn nothing from the teacher. He is really no teacher, though he\nmay occupy the teacher's seat. There is, and there can be, no teaching,\nwhere the attention of the scholar is not secured. Gaining the attention\nis an indispensable condition to the thing called teaching. Not,\nhowever, the only indispensable thing. We have seen a class wrought by\nspecial tricks and devices to the highest pitch of excited\nattention,--fairly panting with eagerness, all eyes and ears, on the\nvery tiptoe of aroused mental activity,--yet learning nothing. The\nteacher had the knack of stirring them up and lashing them into a half\nfrenzy of excited expectation, without having any substantial knowledge\nwherewith to reward their eagerness. With all his one-sided skill, he\nwas but a mountebank. To real, successful teaching, there must be these\ntwo things, namely, the ability to hold the minds of the children, and\nthe ability to pour into the minds thus presented sound and seasonable\ninstruction. Lacking the latter ability, your pupil goes away with his\nvessel unfilled. Lacking the former, you only pour water upon the\nground.\n\nHow shall the teacher secure attention?\n\nIn the first place, let him make up his mind that he will have it. This\nis half the battle. Let him settle it with himself, that until he does\nthis, he is doing nothing; that without the attention of his scholars,\nhe is no more a teacher, than is the chair he occupies. If he is not\nplus, he is zero, if not actually minus. With this truth fully realized,\nhe will come before his class resolved to have a hearing; and this very\nresolution, written as it will be all over him, will have its effect\nupon his scholars. Children are quick to discern the mental attitude of\na teacher. They know, as if by instinct, whether he is in earnest or\nnot, and in all ordinary cases they yield without dispute to a claim\nthus resolutely put.\n\nThis, then, is the first duty of the teacher in this matter. He must go\nto his class with the resolute determination of making every scholar\nfeel his presence all the time. The moment any scholar shows that the\nconsciousness of his teacher's presence is not on his mind, as a\nrestraining power, something is wrong. The first step towards producing\nthat consciousness, as an abiding influence on the minds of the\nscholars, is for the teacher to determine in his own mind and bring it\nabout. Without being arrogant, without being dictatorial, without being\nor doing anything that is disagreeable or unbecoming, he must yet make\nup his mind to put forth in the class a distinct power of\nself-assertion. He must determine to make them feel that he is there,\nthat he is there all the time, that he is there to every one of them.\n\nIn the next place, the teacher must not disappoint the attention which\nhis manner has challenged. He must have something valuable to\ncommunicate to the expectant minds before him. He must be thoroughly\nprepared in the lesson, so that the pupils shall feel that they are\nlearning from him. His lips must keep knowledge. The human heart thirsts\nfor knowledge. This is one of its natural instincts. It is indeed often\nmuch perverted, and many are to be found who even show aversion to being\ninstructed. Yet the normal condition of things is otherwise, and nothing\nis more common than to see children hanging with fondness around any one\nwho has something to tell them. Let the teacher then be sure to have\nsomething to say, as well as determined to say it.\n\nIn the third place, the teacher must have his knowledge perfectly at\ncommand. It must be on the tip of his tongue. If he hesitates, and stops\nto think, or to look in his book for the purpose of hunting up what he\nhas to tell them, he will be very apt to lose his chance. Teaching\nchildren, particularly young children, is like shooting birds on the\nwing. The moment your bird is in sight, you must fire. The moment you\nhave the child's eye, be ready to speak. This readiness of utterance is\na matter to be cultivated. The ripest scholars are often sadly deficient\nin it. The very habit of profound study is apt to induce the opposite\nquality to readiness. A teacher who is conscious of this defect, must\nresolutely set himself to resist it and overcome it. He can do so, if he\nwill. But it requires resolution and practice.\n\nIn the fourth place, the teacher must place himself so that every pupil\nin the class is within the range of his vision. It is not uncommon to\nsee a teacher pressing close up to the scholars in the centre of the\nclass, so that those at the right and left ends are out of his sight; or\nif he turns his face to those on one side, he at the same time turns his\nback to those on the other. Always sit or stand where you can all the\nwhile see the face of every pupil. I have, hundreds of times, seen the\nwhole character of the instruction and discipline of a class changed by\nthe observance of this simple rule.\n\nAnother rule is to use your eyes quite as much as your tongue. If you\nwant your class to look at you, you must look at them. The eye has a\nmagic power. It wins, it fascinates, it guides, it rewards, it punishes,\nit controls. You must learn how to see every child all the time. Some\nteachers seem to be able to see only one scholar at a time. This will\nnever do. While you are giving this absorbed, undivided attention to\none, all the rest are running wild. Neither will it do for the teacher\nto be looking about much, to see what is going on among the other\nclasses in the room. Your scholars' eyes will be very apt to follow\nyours. You are the engineer, they are the passengers. If you run off the\ntrack, they must do likewise. Nor must your eye be occupied with the\nbook, hunting up question and answer, nor dropped to the floor in\nexcessive modesty. All the power of seeing that you have is needed for\nlooking earnestly, lovingly, without interruption, into the faces and\neyes of your pupils.\n\nBut for the observance of this rule, another is indispensable. You must\nlearn to teach without book. Perhaps you cannot do this absolutely. But\nthe nearer you can approach to it, the better. Thorough preparation, of\ncourse, is the secret of this power. Some teachers think they have\nprepared a lesson when they have gone over it once, and studied out all\nthe answers. There could not be a greater mistake. This is only the\nfirst step in the preparation. You might as well think that you have\nlearned the Multiplication Table, and are prepared to teach it, when you\nhave gone over it once and seen by actual count that the figures are all\nright, and you know where to put your finger on them when required. You\nare prepared to teach a lesson when you have all the facts and ideas in\nit at your tongue's end, so that you can go through them all, in proper\norder, without once referring to the book. Any preparation short of this\nwill not do, if you want to command attention. Once prepare a lesson in\nthis way, and it will give you such freedom in the art of teaching, and\nyou will experience such a pleasure in it, that you will never want to\nrelapse into the old indolent habit.\n\n\n\n\nXXVIII.\n\nCOUNSELS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n1. _To a Young Teacher._\n\nYou are about to assume the charge of a class in the school under my\ncare. Allow me, in a spirit of frankness, to make to you a brief\nstatement of some of the aims of the institution, and of the principles\nby which we are guided in their prosecution.\n\n1. \"Unless the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it.\"\nI have no professional conviction more fixed and abiding than this, that\nno persons more need the direct, special, continual guidance of the Holy\nSpirit than those who undertake to mould and discipline the youthful\nmind. No preparation for this office is complete which does not include\ndevout prayer for that wisdom which cometh from above. If any one\npossession, more than another, is the direct gift of the Almighty, it\nwould seem to be that of knowledge. The teacher, therefore, of all men,\nis called upon to look upwards to a source that is higher than himself.\nHe needs light in his own mind; he should not count it misspent labor to\nask for light to be given to the minds of his scholars. There is a\nTeacher infinitely wiser and more skilful than any human teacher. The\ninstructor must be strangely blind to the resources of his profession,\nwho fails to resort habitually to that great, plenary, unbounded source\nof light and knowledge. While, therefore, we aim in this school to\nprofit by all subsidiary and subordinate methods and improvements in the\nart of teaching, we first of all seek the aid of our Heavenly Father; we\nask wisdom of Him who \"giveth liberally and upbraideth not.\" This, then,\nis the first principle that governs us in the work here assigned us. The\nfear of God is the beginning of knowledge. We who are teachers endeavor\nto show that we ourselves fear God, and we inculcate the fear of Him as\nthe first and highest duty of our scholars; and in every plan and effort\nto guide the young minds committed to us, we ourselves look for guidance\nto the only unerring source of light.\n\n2. In proportion to the implicitness with which we rely upon divine aid,\nshould be the diligence with which we use all the human means within our\nreach. It should therefore, in the second place, be the aim of the\nteachers of this school to acquaint themselves diligently with the most\napproved methods of teaching. No teachers will be retained who do not\nkeep themselves well posted in the literature of their profession, and\nwho are not found continually aiming at self-improvement. In whatever\nschool of whatever country, any branch is taught by better methods than\nthose practised here, it should be the duty of a teacher in this school\nto search it out, and to profit by the discovery. Improvement comes by\ncomparison. The man, or the institution, that fails to profit by the\nexperience of others, is not wise. I hold it to be the duty of every\nteacher of this school to be habitually conversant with the educational\njournals of the day, and with the standard works on the theory of\nteaching, and to lose no opportunity for personal observation of the\nmethods of others. I have often noticed, with equal pain and\ncommiseration, that young teachers, after having once finished their\npreliminary studies and obtained a situation, are thereupon apparently\nquite content, making no further effort at improvement, but settling\ndown for life in an inglorious mediocrity. The best teachers in this\nschool are expected to be better teachers next year than they are\nnow,--with ampler stores of knowledge, and a happier faculty for\ncommunicating it. This, then, is our second aim in this school. We aim\nto have teachers thoroughly posted in regard to the theory and the\nmethods of teaching, prepared to ride upon the advance wave of every\nreal improvement in the art.\n\n3. I should, however, fail entirely to convey my meaning, were I to lead\nyou to suppose that we expect to accomplish our ends mainly by fine-spun\ntheories. I have no faith in any theory of education, which does not\ninclude, as one of its leading elements, _hard work_. The teachers of\nthis school expect to work hard, and we expect the scholars to work\nhard. We have no royal road to learning. Any knowledge, the acquisition\nof which costs nothing, is usually worth nothing. The mind, equally with\nthe body, grows by labor. If some stuffing process could be invented, by\nwhich knowledge could be forced into a mind perfectly passive, the\nknowledge so acquired would be worthless to its possessor, and would\nsoon pass away, leaving the mind as blank as it was before. Knowledge,\nto be of any value, must be assimilated, as bodily food is. Teaching is\nessentially a co-operative act. The mind of the teacher and the mind of\nthe scholar must both act, and must act together, in intellectual\nco-operation and sympathy, if there is to be any true mental growth.\nTeaching is not merely hearing lessons. It is not mere talking. It is\nsomething more than mere telling. It is causing a child to know. It is\nawakening attention, and then satisfying it. It is an out-and-out live\nprocess. The moment the mind of the teacher or the mind of the scholar\nflags, real teaching ceases. This, then, is our third aim. We aim in\nthis school to accomplish results, not by fanciful theories, but by\n_bona fide_ hard work,--by keeping teachers and scholars, while at their\nstudies, wide awake and full of life; not by exhausting drudgery, nor by\nfitful, irregular, spasmodic exertions, but by steady, persevering,\nanimated, straight-forward work.\n\n4. A fourth aim which we have steadily before us, is to make _thorough_\nwork of whatever acquisition we attempt. A little knowledge, well\nlearned and truly digested, and made a part of the pupil's own\nintellectual stores, is worth more to him than any amount of facts\nloosely and indiscriminately brought together. In intellectual, as in\nother tillage, the true secret of thrift is to plough deep, not to skim\nover a large surface. The prevailing tendency at this time, in systems\nof education, is unduly to multiply studies. So many new sciences are\nbeing brought within the pale of popular knowledge, that it is no longer\npossible, in a school like this, to embrace within its course of study\nall the subjects which it is practicable and desirable for people\ngenerally to know. Through the whole encyclopaedia of arts and sciences,\nthere is hardly one which has not its advocates, and which has not\nstrong claims to recognition. The teacher is simply infatuated who\nattempts to embrace them all in his curriculum. He thereby puts himself\nunder an absolute necessity of being superficial, and he generates in\nhis scholars pretension and conceit. Old James Ross, the grammarian,\nfamous as a teacher in Philadelphia more than half a century ago, had on\nhis sign simply these words, \"Greek and Latin taught here.\" Assuredly I\nwould not advocate quite so rigid an exclusion as that, nor, if limited\nto only two studies, would it be those. But I have often thought Mr.\nRoss's advertisement suggestive. Better even that extreme than the\nencyclopaedic system which figures so largely on some circulars. Mr. Ross\nindeed taught nothing but Latin and Greek. But he taught these languages\nbetter probably than they have ever been taught on this continent; and\nany two branches thoroughly mastered are of more service to the pupil\nthan twenty branches known imperfectly and superficially. A limited\nfield, then, and thorough work. This is our fourth aim.\n\n5. As a fifth aim, we endeavor, in the selection of subjects of study,\nnot to allow the common English branches, as they are called, to be\nshoved aside. To read well, to write a good hand, to be expert in\narithmetic, to have such a knowledge of geography and history as to read\nintelligently what is going on and the world, to have such a knowledge\nof one's own language as to use it correctly and purely in speaking and\ncomposition,--these are attainments to be postponed to no others. These\nare points of primary importance, to be aimed at by every one, whatever\nelse he may omit.\n\n6. We aim, in the sixth place, to mark the successive parts of the\ncourse of study by well defined limits. There are in the course of study\nsuccessive stages of progress, and these stages are made as clear and\nprecise as it is possible to make them; and no pupil is allowed to go\nforward until the ground behind is thoroughly mastered. At the same\ntime, these stages in study should be kept all the while before the\nminds of the pupils as goals to be aimed at. There are, for this\npurpose, at briefly recurring intervals, examinations for promotion.\nWhile no pupil is permitted to go forward, except as the result of a\nrigorous examination, the idea of an advance should, if possible, never\nbe allowed to be absent from his thoughts. That scholar should be\ncounted worthy of highest honor, not who stands highest in a particular\nroom, but who by successful examinations can pass most rapidly from room\nto room. That teacher is considered most successful, not who retains\nmost pupils, but who in a given time pushes most pupils forward into a\nhigher room. We want no scholar to stand still for a single week.\nMotion, progress, definite achievement, must be the order of the day.\n\n7. We aim, in the seventh place, to cultivate in every pupil a habit of\nattention and observation. Youth is the time when the senses should be\nmost assiduously trained. The young should be taught to see for\nthemselves, to ascertain the qualities of objects by the use of their\nown eyes and hands, to notice whether a thing is distant and how far\ndistant it is, whether it is heavy and how heavy, whether it has color\nand what color, whether it has form and what form. They should learn to\nstudy real things by actually noticing them with their own senses, and\nthen learning to apply the right words to the knowledge so acquired. We\naim to apply this habit of observation in all the branches of study, so\nthat in every stage of progress the scholar shall know, not merely the\nnames of things, but the things themselves. In other words, we would\ncultivate real, as well as verbal knowledge, and aim to awaken in every\npupil an active, inquiring, observant state of mind.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n2. _To a New Pupil._\n\nYou have just been admitted to the privileges of this institution, and\nare about to enter here upon a course of study. The occasion is one\neminently suited for serious reflection. At the close of a school career\nit is difficult not to reflect. Thoughts upon one's course will, at such\na time, force themselves upon us. But then it is too late. The good we\nmight have achieved, is beyond our grasp, and its contemplation is\nprofitable only as a legitimate topic of contrition. How much wiser and\nmore profitable to anticipate the serious judgment which sooner or later\nwe must pass upon our actions, and so to shape our conduct in advance,\nthat the retrospect, when it comes, may be a source of joy and\ncongratulation, rather than of shame and repentance. How much wiser to\ndirect our bark to some definite and well selected channel, than to\nfloat at random along the current of events, the sport of every idle\nwave. Men are divided into two classes,--those who control their own\ndestiny, doing what they mean to do, living according to a plan which\nthey prefer and prepare, and those who are controlled by circumstances,\nwho have a vague purpose of doing something or being somebody in the\nworld, but leave the means to chance. The season of youth generally\ndetermines to which of these classes you will ultimately belong. It is\nhere, at school, that you decide whether, when you come to man's estate,\nyou will be a governing man, or whether you will be a mere aimless\ndriveller. Those who at the beginning of a course in school make to\nthemselves a distinct aim, towards which day after day they work their\ncourse, undiscouraged by defeat, unseduced by ease or the temptation of\na temporary pleasure, not only win the immediate objects of pursuit, but\ngain for themselves those habits of aiming, of perseverance, of\nself-control, which will make them hereafter controlling and governing\nmen. Those, on the contrary, who enter upon an academic career with an\nindefinite purpose of studying after a fashion, whenever it is not too\nhot, or too cold, or the lessons are not too hard, or there is nothing\nspecial going on to distract the attention, or who are content to swim\nalong lazily with the multitude, trusting to the good-nature of the\nteacher, to an occasional deception, or to the general chapter of\naccidents, for escape from censure, and for such an amount of\nproficiency as on the whole will pass muster with friends or the\npublic,--depend upon it, such youths are doomed, inevitably doomed, all\ntheir days, to be nobodies, or worse.\n\nLet me, then, my young friend, as preliminary to your entering upon the\nduties before you, call to your mind some of those things, which, as an\nintelligent and responsible being, you should deliberately aim to follow\nor to avoid while in this school. In the counsels which I am going to\ngive you, I shall make no attempt to say what is new or striking. My aim\nwill be rather to recall to your memory some few of those familiar\nmaxims, in which you have been, I dare say, often instructed elsewhere.\n\n1. First of all, remember that men always, by a necessary law, fall\nbelow the point at which they aim. You well understand that if a\nprojectile be hurled in the direct line of any elevated object, the\nforce of gravity will cause the projectile to deflect from the line of\ndirection, and this deflection and curvature will be great in proportion\nto the distance of the object to be reached. Hence, in gunnery, the\nskilful marksman invariably takes aim above the point which he expects\nto hit. At certain distances, he will aim 45 deg. above the horizon at\nwhat is really but 30 deg. above it. So, in moral subjects, there is\nunfortunately a native and universal tendency downwards, which deflects\nus out of the line in which good resolutions would propel us. You aim to\nbe distinguished, and you turn out only meritorious. You aim to be\nmeritorious, and you fall into the multitude. You are content with being\nof the multitude, and you fall out of your class entirely. So also, as\nin physical projectiles, the extent of your departure from the right\nline is measured by the distance of the objects at which you aim. You\nresolve to avoid absolutely and entirely certain practices for a day or\na week, and you can perhaps keep very close to the mark. But who can\nhold himself up to an exact fulfilment of his intentions for a whole\nterm? I do not wish to discourage you. The drift of my argument is, not\nthat you should make no aim, but that you should fix your aim _high_,\nand that you should then keep yourself up to your good resolutions, as\nlong and as closely as you possibly can.\n\n2. In the next place, remember that no excellence is ever attained\nwithout self-denial. Wisdom's ways are indeed ways of pleasantness. The\nsatisfaction of having done well and nobly is of a certain ravishing\nkind, far surpassing other enjoyments. But to obtain this high and\nsatisfying pleasure, many minor and incompatible pleasures must be\nforegone. You cannot have the pleasure of being a first-rate scholar,\nand at the same time have your full swing of fun. I am not opposed to\nfun. I like it myself. No one enjoys it more. Nor do I think the\nexercise and enjoyment of it incompatible with the highest scholastic\nexcellence. But there is a place for all things, and school is not the\nplace for fun. If you enjoy in moderation out of school the relaxation\nand refreshment which jokes, wit, and pleasantry give, you will be all\nthe more likely to grapple successfully with the serious employments\nwhich await you here. Still do not forget that your employments here are\nserious. Study is a sober business. If you would acquire really useful\nknowledge, you must be willing to work. You must make up your mind to\nsay \"no\" to the thousand opportunities and temptations to frivolous\nbehavior that will beset you in school. You must not be content with\nbeing studious and orderly merely when the eye of authority is upon you.\nThis is to be simply an eye-servant and a hypocrite. To have a little\npleasantry in the school-room, to perpetrate or to join in some witty\npractical joke, may seem to you comparatively harmless. So it would be\nbut for its expense. You buy it at the cost of benefits which no money\ncan measure, and no future time can replace. There are seasons of the\nyear when the farmer may indulge in relaxation,--may go abroad on\nexcursions of pleasure, or may saunter away the time in comparative\nidleness at home. But in the few precious weeks of seedtime, every day,\nevery hour is of moment. This is your seedtime. Every hour of\nschool-time that you waste in trifling is an injury and a loss to your\nfuture. Remember, then, that you cannot reach high excellence in school,\nor that pure and noble enjoyment, which is its exceeding great reward,\nwithout self-denial. Resolve, therefore, here and now, steadfastly,\nimmovably, to say \"no\" to everything in school, no matter how innocent\nin itself, which shall interfere with the progress of study for a single\nmoment. If you make such a fixed resolution, and live up to it, you will\nsoon be surprised to find how easy and pleasant the discipline of school\nhas become.\n\n3. Among the mischievous fallacies of young persons at school, I know\nnone that work more to their own disadvantage than the opinion that a\nparticular teacher is prejudiced against them. Against this feeling it\nseems impossible to reason. When once scholars have it fairly in their\nheads that a certain teacher is partial, in whatever relates to their\nstanding, I have been almost forced to the conclusion that it is best\nnot to attempt reasoning with them. Under such feelings, indeed, by a\nsingular freak of human nature, scholars are often driven to do, in\nsheer bravado or defiance, the very things which they imagine to be\nunjustly imputed to them. Allow me, my young friend, to ask you candidly\nand in all seriousness to turn this matter over in your own mind. What\nadequate motive can you imagine for a teacher's marking you otherwise\nthan impartially? Every teacher has an interest in having as many high\nmarks and as few demerits under his signature as possible. It is not to\nhis credit that he should be unable to maintain order without blackening\nhis roll with bad marks. A class roll filled with 0's is not the kind of\nevidence a teacher covets as to his skill in teaching. Notice the\nintercourse between the teachers and those scholars who are admitted on\nall hands to be strictly and conscientiously correct in their behavior.\nSee what a pleasure it affords the instructor to have to deal with such\npupils. See what a satisfaction the teacher experiences when, at the\nclose of the day, there is not a demerit mark on his book. Judge, then,\nwhether it is not likely to be a self-denial and a cross to him, when a\nsense of duty compels him to do otherwise. Be slow, therefore, to impute\nbad marks to injustice, or ill nature. No man of course is infallible,\nand teachers make mistakes as well as other people. But the temptations\nto do intentional wrong are, in this case, all the other way.\n\n4. Closely connected with the habit just mentioned is the disposition to\nneglect particular branches of study. From disliking a teacher, the\ntransition is easy to a dislike for his department. Others again,\nwithout any personal feeling in the case, think that they have a natural\nfitness for one class of studies, and an equally natural _un_-fitness\nfor another class. So they content themselves with proficiency in that\nin which they already excel, and neglect that in which they are\ndeficient, and which therefore they find difficult. Is this wise? The\nbranches which you find difficult, are precisely those in which you need\nan instructor. Besides, the object of education is to develop equally\nand harmoniously all your faculties. If the memory, the reasoning\nfaculty, the imagination, or any one power of the mind, is active far\nbeyond the other powers, that surely is no reason for giving additional\nstimulus and growth in that direction. On the contrary, bend your main\nenergies towards bringing forward your other faculties to an equal\ndevelopment. If you have a natural or acquired preference for\nmathematics, and a dislike for languages, the former study will take\ncare of itself: bend all your energies to the latter. So, if languages\nare your choice, and mathematical study your aversion, take hold of the\nodious task with steady and sturdy endeavor, and you will soon convert\nit into a pleasure. The same is true of grammar, of geography, of\nhistory, of composition, of rhetoric, of mental and moral science, of\nelocution,--of every branch. If you are wise, you will give your chief\nattention in school to those branches for which you feel the least\ninclination, and in which you find it most difficult to excel. You\nshould do so, because, in the first place, this failure and\ndisinclination, in nine cases out of ten, grow out of defective\ntraining heretofore, and not from any defect in your mental\nconstitution; and, secondly, if your natural constitution should be, as\nin some cases it is, one-sided and exceptional, your aim should be to\ncorrect and cure, not to aggravate, the defects of nature. This advice,\nyou will observe, relates to your course in school, not to your choice\nof a profession in life. When your career in school is finished, and you\nare about to select a profession, follow by all means the bent of your\ngenius. Do that for which you have the greatest natural or acquired\naptitude. But here, the case is different. Your aim in school is to\ndevelop your powers,--to grow into an accomplished and capable man,--to\nacquire complete command of all the mental resources God has given you.\n\n5. There is a practice, common to school-life everywhere, known by the\nnot very dignified name of cheating. There is, I fear, among young\npeople generally, while at school, an erroneous and mischievous state of\nopinion on this subject. Deception in regard to your lessons is not\nviewed, as it should be, in the light of a serious moral delinquency. An\ningenuous youth, who would scorn to steal, and scorn to lie anywhere\nelse than at school, makes no scruple to deceive a teacher. Is honesty a\nthing of place and time? I do not say, I would not trust at my\nmoney-drawer the boy who has been cheating at his lessons, because a boy\nmay have been led into the latter delinquency by a false notion of\nright, which as yet has not affected his integrity in matters of\nbusiness. But this I do say. Cheating at school blunts the moral sense;\nit impairs the sense of personal honor; it breaks down the outworks of\nintegrity; it leads by direct and easy steps to that grosser cheating\nwhich ends in the penitentiary.\n\nOn this subject, I once had a most painful experience. A boy left school\nwith as fair a character for honesty as many others against whom nothing\ncan be said except that they do sometimes practise deceit in regard to\ntheir lessons. I really believed him to be an honest boy, and\nrecommended him as such. By means of the recommendation, he obtained in\na large store a responsible post connected with the receipt and payment\nof money. His employer was pleased with his abilities, and disposed to\ngive him rapid promotion. After a few months, I inquired after him, and\nfound that he had been detected in forcing his balances! I do verily\nbelieve, the dishonest purpose, which led to this pecuniary fraud, grew\ndirectly out of a facility at deception acquired at school. He had\ncheated his teacher; he had cheated his father; he had obtained a\nfictitious average; he had gained a standing and credit in school not\njustly his due; why should he not exercise the same ingenuity in\nimproving his pecuniary resources?\n\nIndependently of the moral effect of these deceptive practices upon your\nown character, is there not in the acts themselves an inherent meanness\nand baseness, from which a pure-minded youth would instinctively recoil?\nIs there not something false and rotten in the prevailing sentiment on\nthis subject among young persons at school? When by some convenient\nfiction you reach a higher standard than your merits entitle you to, is\nit not so far forth at the expense of some more conscientious\ncompetitor? And, after all, when you deceive a teacher into the belief\nthat you are studying when you are not, that you know a thing when you\ndo not know it, that you wrote a composition, or executed a drawing,\nwhich was done by some one else,--whom do you cheat but yourself? You\nmay deceive the teacher, but the loss is yours.\n\n6. If there could be such a thing as an innocent crime, I would say it\nwas that of talking in school. There can hardly be named a more signal\ninstance of an act so perfectly innocent in itself, becoming so\nseriously blame-worthy purely and solely by circumstances. I believe I\nexpress the common opinion of all who have had any experience in the\nmatter, when I say that three fourths of all the intentional disorder,\nand at least nine tenths of all the actual interruptions to study, grow\nout of the practice of unlicensed talking. And yet this is the very last\nthing which young persons will admit into their serious, practical\nconvictions as being an evil and a wrong. They may admit that they get\nbad marks by it; that it brings them into trouble; but that it is really\nan evil, meriting the strictures with which the teacher visits it, is\nmore than they believe. What deceives them is this. They call to mind\nthe events of a particular hour. There was during that hour, according\nto their recollection, a general attention to study, and no special\ndisorder; perhaps some three or four of the pupils noted for talking.\nThis talking, too, may have been about the lesson, or at all events was\nnot such as to distract very perceptibly the current of instruction.\nHence the inference that a moderate amount of talking, such as that was,\nis perfectly consistent with decorum and progress.\n\nSo it is. But what is to secure this moderate amount? What right have\nyou to talk that is not enjoyed by your neighbor? If one may talk, so\nmay all; if one does it, unchecked, so will all, as you very well know.\nHow is the teacher to know whether you are talking about the lesson, or\nabout the last cricket-match?\n\nThis is a perfectly plain question, and I press you to an answer. There\nis no practical medium between unlimited license to talk--against which\nyou would yourself be the first to protest--and an entire prohibition. I\nput it to your conscience, whether you do not believe, were this rule\nstrictly and in good faith observed, that the interests of the school,\nand your own interest, comfort, and honor, would be greatly promoted? Is\nthe inconvenience which this rule imposes so great, or your habit of\nself-indulgence so strong, that you cannot, or will not, forego a slight\ntemporary gratification for so substantial and lasting a benefit?\n\n7. You will avoid much of the difficulty of observing this rule, if you\ngive heed to the next counsel which I have now to give, and that is,\nthat you economize carefully your time in school. On this point some\nexcellent and conscientious pupils occasionally err. They are very\nfaithful in home preparation; very attentive at lectures; very\nindustrious in discharging any set duty. But they have not yet learned\nthe true secret of all economy, whether of time, money, or any other\ngood,--namely, the knowing how to use well the odds and ends. Take care\nof the pence, was Franklin's motto. If you once have the secret of\noccupying usefully, in studious preparation, or in wise repetition, all\nthose little intervals of interrupted instruction, which necessarily\noccur throughout the day, you will in the first place almost insure for\nyourself an entire freedom from demerit marks of every kind; you will\nsecondly add materially to your intellectual progress; and, lastly, you\nwill acquire a habit of the utmost value in every station and walk in\nlife; and, depend upon it, the habits you acquire at school, are of all\nyour acquisitions by far the most important.\n\n8. But I would be false to my most settled convictions, were I to stop\nhere. I have been a teacher of the young nearly all my life, and as the\nresult of such a life-long professional experience, I have no conviction\nmore abiding than this, that the _fear of God is the beginning of\nknowledge_. I believe that mental growth is just as directly the gift of\nGod as bodily growth; that the healthy action of the mind is as much\ndependent on his good pleasure as the healthy action of the bodily\nfunctions. God has not only made one mind superior to another, but of\ntwo minds naturally equal, he can, at his sovereign pleasure, make one\ngrow and expand more rapidly than another. As he can give symmetry and\nstrength to your limbs, and clothe your features with beauty and grace,\nso he can make you quick of apprehension, clear of discernment, ready\nand tenacious to remember, delicate in your appreciation of what is\nbeautiful. While, therefore, you are diligent in your studies, remember\nthat the reward of your labor, after all, is the gift of God. You will\nneglect one essential means of intellectual progress, if you neglect\nprayer. I mean, not prayer in general, but specific prayer for God's\nblessing on your studies; prayer that God will bless your efforts to\nlearn. Keep your mind, while engaged in study, in a habitual state of\nexpectancy, especially when grappling with intellectual difficulties, as\nif inwardly looking up for help to that all-knowing Spirit, who alone,\nof all beings, acts directly on our spirits. I cannot doubt that one who\nstudies in such a frame of mind, will advance in his intellectual\nprogress more rapidly for it. I have a most assured conviction that\nprayer is a direct and important means of mental growth. Not only will\nthe fear of God restrain you from many of the usual hindrances to study,\nof which I have already spoken, but a truly devout spirit is the very\nbest state of mind for learning, even for learning purely intellectual\ntruth.\n\nThere are other and higher motives, why you should cultivate,\nhabitually, the fear of God. Of these motives, it is not my office to\nspeak now. They are often pressed upon your attention. The one point to\nwhich I direct you now, is the importance of such a state of mind to\nyour making the best, and surest, and noblest kind of mental growth. If\nyou would grow rapidly in knowledge, grow symmetrically and beautifully,\nwith all your faculties in harmonious preparation and dependence, fear\nGod. Keep your spirit in habitual intercourse and communion with that\nAlmighty Spirit who is the source of all knowledge and wisdom. In the\nschool-room, at your desk, in your recitations, and your exercises of\nevery kind, let the thought that the eye of a loving Father is upon you,\ndiffuse habitually a calm and sweet peace through your spirit, and\ndepend upon it, you will not find your mental vision dimmed by moving in\nso pure and serene an atmosphere. There are no quickeners to knowledge\nequal to love, reverence, and earnest prayer.\n\nLet me, in conclusion, tender you my best wishes for your success in the\ncareer now before you. That success depends, in no small degree, upon\nthe feeling and spirit with which you begin. Only summon up your mind to\na serious and determined resolution at the outset; aim high; do not\nflinch at self-denial; rise above the unworthy suspicion that this or\nthat teacher is unfair to you; resist the disposition to shirk those\nstudies that you find disagreeable or difficult; keep clear of every\nkind and degree of trickery; come straight up to a full and strict\ncompliance with every rule; lay your plans to occupy usefully each\ngolden moment of leisure; cultivate a constant sense of dependence upon\nGod for success in study: and your success will be as certain as is the\nwish for it, which I once more, most respectfully and affectionately,\ntender you.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n3. _To a Young Lady on Leaving a Boarding-School._\n\nYou are about to leave school. The occasion is one certainly that cannot\nfail to awaken reflection. I suppose that no young lady, who had been at\na place of education as long as you have been here, ever left it without\nserious thought. The excitement of the examination, the busy whirl of\npreparation for leaving, even the exhilarating anticipations of\nhome-going, cannot entirely shut out from your mind the sober truth that\nthe end of school-days is only the beginning of another career,--a\ncareer, the issue of which you can neither foresee, nor can you be\nindifferent to it. Let us talk a little about this.\n\nThe day on which a young man ends his College course is called, by an\napparent misnomer, \"Commencement\" day; that is, the day of commencing,\nor beginning. I understand very well that the name has a definite\nhistorical origin,--that in the old English Colleges, from which our\nAmerican Colleges were modelled, the young man, on this day, begins his\ncareer as a Bachelor of Arts. His academical rank \"commences\" and dates\nfrom this point. But there would be a beautiful appropriateness in the\nterm, even if it had no such special historical origin. The exit from\nthe curriculum of the College or School, is, in truth, only the entrance\ninto a more extended course. When your studies are nominally ended, they\nhave really only begun. The longer you live, the more will you\nunderstand that the period of school-going is not the only, or even the\nmain time of learning. The more thoroughly you have been taught here,\nthe more certainly will you be a learner hereafter. I want no better\ntest of the character of a school than the extent to which the idea\nprevails among its pupils and alumni, that it is a place for \"finishing\"\none's studies. The idea is on a par with that of the young Miss who\nreported that she had read through Latin!\n\nThere is, it is true, in this School, a definite curriculum of studies,\nand that curriculum you have honorably completed. You have just been\nreceived by public acknowledgment into the community of educated women.\nBut you will be false to the honorable sisterhood, false, I am sure, to\nall the teachings you have received here, if you entertain for a moment\nthe thought that no further intellectual acquisitions are before you.\nThe branches which you have learned thus far are chiefly valuable to you\nfor the power they have given you to make still further improvement. The\nstudies pursued at school, and during the period of youth, are mainly\nintended for promoting intellectual growth, for giving us power, for\nperfecting our mental machinery. Our real acquisitions come afterward. I\nspeak, of course, of those who occupy the higher stations in society. To\none who has to earn his bread by mere bodily toil, the few studies for\nwhich he has leisure in youth, must, of course, be such as are directly\nserviceable in his calling. But to those who claim to belong to the\neducated portion of the community, school studies are of right directed\nmore to the development of the mental and moral powers, than to positive\nacquisition. Your instructors return you to your friends and your home\nwith a mind enlarged, with a taste refined, with a judgment corrected,\nready to take your place and act well your part, as an educated woman.\nBut remember, she is not an educated woman, who knows no more this year\nthan she did last. True education is growth, and it never stands still.\nThe tree which has ceased to grow, has begun to decay.\n\nThis, then, is the one thought that I would have you take away with you\nfrom school. Give no place to the idea that henceforth books and study\nand elegant culture are to be laid aside. It would be a dishonor to your\nSchool, and a mistake of the first magnitude for yourself.\n\nPerhaps you will appreciate this point more adequately, if you will turn\nyour thoughts inward for a moment, and reflect upon the change which\nhas been quietly going on in your own self and during your residence\nhere. One whose occupation calls him almost daily to communicate his\nideas to young persons, either by formal address, or by more familiar\nways, feels to a greater degree, perhaps, than any other person can, the\nchange to which I refer. I mean that increased quickness of intellectual\napprehension produced by a judicious and symmetrical course of study.\nLet me give you an instance. It fell to my lot, not long since, to\naddress a School containing three hundred young ladies, all boarders,\nall over seventeen years of age. They were the best audience I ever had.\nAmong them was not one, who did not appear to be intelligent and\nthoughtful, and with a mind more or less disciplined. But there were\nperceptible differences among them, and it is to this point that I would\ndirect your attention. They were divided into four distinct classes,\nhaving attended the School severally one, two, three, and four years,\nand they were arranged before me in the order of their seniority as\nclasses. The discourse was long and didactic, and portions of it were\nnot easy to follow, containing a discussion of a rather abstruse point\nin mental philosophy. Now it seemed to me, on concluding the address,\nthat I could have gone through that assembly, and marked with tolerable\naccuracy, class by class, just where each class ended and another class\nbegan, simply by what I had read in the faces of my young auditors. It\nwas written as plainly upon those upturned faces, as was the discourse\nitself upon the manuscript before me. Those who had been four years in\nthe School, undoubtedly learned manifold more from the exercise than\nthe junior classes did. I could see it in the delivery of every\nparagraph. Such is the uniform result of a proper course of study. It\nenables the student to grasp new truths with increased ease and\nreadiness. We, who are teachers, feel this the moment we undertake to\ncommunicate our thoughts to an audience. The consequence is, we\ninvoluntarily measure what has been done educationally for a class of\nyoung persons, by the development which has been given to their\npowers,--by the manifest facility which they have gained for making\nfurther gains. That young woman is best educated who is best prepared to\nlearn.\n\nLet me, then, renew the appeal to your own consciousness. Think for a\nmoment upon the change which has been wrought in your own self during\nyour career here. Compare your present self with that other self that\nyou may remember some three or four years back. How much more you can\naccomplish now than you could then! How much more clearly you can follow\nout a train of reasoning! How much more easily you can compass an\nargument! How much more you can enjoy what is beautiful! How much more\nquickly and accurately you can remember! How much more you can command\nyour attention! Whence this change, and what does it purport? It means\nthat you are educated. You have now a degree of mental power that you\nhad not then. Your own consciousness tells you that you are now just in\nthe condition to enter upon your harvest. The field is before you. You\nare girded for the work. And will you now indolently lay aside the\nsickle, and let the golden grain fall to the ground ungathered? Could\nthere be a more egregious mistake? Last week, I saw from my window two\nparent birds tempting their young fledglings from the nest. Day by day,\nweek by week, I had seen the child-birds growing and gaining strength.\nTheir muscles were now well developed, their bodies were clothed with\nfeathers, they had learned to use their wings,--they could fly. Would it\nnot have been passing strange, had they continued as they were,\ncontented to cower and to crawl, when they had acquired the power to\nsoar? And will _you_ be content to remain forever only a fledgling,\nsatisfied with having acquired the power of rising, but never actually\nusing the wings which these years of honorable industry have given you?\n\nSome of your sex are willing to admit the force of this argument when\napplied to men. A man, after graduating, is expected of course to\ncontinue his studies. His whole profession is one continued study. But\nsomehow, it is thought, this truth does not hold good for women. Let me\nhope that _you_ at least will not harbor such a notion. Whatever may be\nsaid of \"women's rights,\" one right certainly, and one duty, is to keep\nyourself abreast of the other sex in continued mental growth and\nculture, and in general intelligence. If you would awaken true respect\nin my sex, and I hold it a not unworthy ambition, you must in this\nmatter do as we do, at least as those of us do who are worth your\nconsideration at all. You must perseveringly, every year, add to your\nintellectual acquisitions. You must continue steadily to grow in\nknowledge and mental power. Do not cease your studies, because you have\nceased going to school. Manage to have some elegant accomplishment or\nacquisition always in hand. A woman who is wise in this matter, never\npasses her prime. I speak not, of course, of the decrepitude of old age\nand of the decay of the faculties. But so long as the faculties remain\nunimpaired, a woman may become, and should aim to become, increasingly\nattractive, as she advances in years. Poets sing of sweet sixteen. Let\nme assure you, a woman may be charming at sixty. Mrs. Madison even at\nseventy was the most attractive woman in Washington.\n\nIn society, how soon one feels the difference between a person who\nreads, and one who does not read. Two ladies may be of the same age.\nThey may dress alike. They may have the same advantages of person. They\nmay move in the same social circle. Yet you will not have been ten\nminutes in their society, though the conversation has been on only the\nmost common topics of the day, before you will feel that the one woman,\nthough at thirty or forty, is still only a superannuated school-girl,\nwith even less resources than when she left the seminary, while the\nother is a delightful companion for persons of any age, with ready\nknowledge for whatever turn the conversation may take, and so abounding\nin resources as not even to be open to the temptation of making a\ndisplay of them. The one can talk only so long as the conversation turns\non dress, gossip, or the discussion of private character. In listening\nto the talk of such a woman, you hardly hear a sentence which is not\nbased upon personalities. Her mind has not been fed and nurtured from\nday to day with beautiful and noble thoughts, with history and science\nand general knowledge. She may be amiable. She may have personal\nbeauty. But you find her empty and vapid, and you weary of her, in spite\nof the very best intentions of being interested. How different the woman\nwho, in spite of social exactions, and even of accumulating domestic\nduties, and of the time-consuming tax of dress, still keeps her mind\nfresh and growing, by means of reading and culture,--who is ever adding\nto her stores of knowledge some new science, to her varied skill some\nnew attainment,--who has ever in hand some new book. It is true, indeed,\nthat some ladies are blessed with more leisure for this purpose than\nothers. But I fear it is not a question of more and less. It is too much\na question of some and _none_. I hold that every woman is entitled to\nhave, and by proper determination she may have, _some_ time for personal\nimprovement. Remember, we have duties to ourselves, as well as to\nothers, and we have no duty to ourselves more sacred than this,--to\nrescue from our time some portion for the purpose of making ourselves\nmore worthy of regard.\n\nTo undertake to suggest what particular studies you should pursue, in\nthis larger school to which you are now admitted, would lead me into a\ntrain of remark entirely too extended. One single practical suggestion\nmay perhaps be pardoned. Do not willingly relinquish the acquisitions\nalready made. They are to you the true foundations for future\nimprovement. You have fairly entered upon several important fields in\nthe domain of science. You are familiar with the elements of Natural\nPhilosophy, Chemistry, Botany, Physiology, Mental Philosophy, Rhetoric,\nand with the foundations of Mathematical Science. My advice is that in\ncoming years you give to each of these branches, and of whatever else\nyou have studied here, a stated systematic review. You have some skill\nin drawing and painting. Let not so graceful an accomplishment die out\nfrom your fingers. You excel in music. I need not say, if you would\nretain this excellence, you must give time to practice and study. So,\nwhatever talent or attainment you now have, let it be your fixed purpose\nnot to let it pass from your possession. Keep what you have, whatever\nelse you may fail to do. To this end, as I said before, give to each of\nyour school studies an occasional well-considered review. You will then\nalways have in your mind certain fixed points, to which the\nmiscellaneous knowledge picked up in your general reading will adhere,\nand around which it will accumulate in organized form. New studies, too,\nwill naturally affiliate with the old, and will be easy and pleasant\njust in proportion as you keep the knowledge that you now have, fresh\nand bright.\n\nBesides this general advice, there is one accomplishment in particular,\nwhich I would earnestly recommend to you, as I am in the habit of doing\nto all of your sex. Cultivate assiduously the ability to read well. I\nstop to particularize this, because it is a thing so very much\nneglected, and because it is so very elegant, charming, and lady-like an\naccomplishment. Where one person is really interested by music, twenty\nare pleased with good reading. Where one person is capable of becoming a\nskilful musician, twenty may become good readers. Where there is one\noccasion suitable for the exercise of musical talent, there are twenty\nfor that of reading. The culture of the voice necessary for reading\nwell, gives a delightful charm to the same voice in conversation. Good\nreading is the natural exponent and vehicle of all good things. It is\nthe most effective of all commentaries upon the works of genius. It\nseems to bring dead authors to life again, and makes us sit down\nfamiliarly with the great and good of all ages.\n\nDid you ever notice what life and power the Holy Scriptures have, when\nwell read? Have you ever heard of the wonderful effects produced by\nElizabeth Fry among the hardened criminals of Newgate, by simply reading\nto them the parable of the Prodigal Son? Princes and peers of the realm,\nit is said, counted it a privilege to stand in those dismal corridors,\namong felons and murderers, merely to share with them the privilege of\nwitnessing the marvellous pathos which genius, taste, and culture could\ninfuse into that simple story.\n\nWhat a fascination there is in really good reading! What a power it\ngives one! In the hospital, in the chamber of the invalid, in the\nnursery, in the domestic and the social circle, among chosen friends and\ncompanions, how it enables you to minister to the amusement, the\ncomfort, the pleasure of dear ones, as no other art or accomplishment\ncan. No instrument of man's devising can reach the heart, as does that\nmost wonderful instrument, the human voice. It is God's special gift and\nendowment to his chosen creatures. Fold it not away in a napkin. If you\nwould double the value of all your other acquisitions; if you would add\nimmeasurably to your own enjoyment, and to your power of promoting the\nenjoyment of others, cultivate with incessant care this Divine gift. No\nmusic below the skies is equal to that of pure, silvery speech from the\nlips of a man or woman of high culture.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n4. _To a Pupil on Entering a Normal School._\n\nYou have entered upon a new and untried path. As one having been often\nover this way, and well acquainted with the features of the country\nbefore you, its lights and shadows, its roses and its thorns, its safe\nwalks and its hidden pitfalls, I desire to talk with you a while before\nyou enter upon the untried scene.\n\n1. First of all let me say to you, we give you a most hearty welcome. We\nare glad to see you here, and we tender to you in advance a warm and\nready sympathy in the many little worries, annoyances, and\ndiscouragements that surely await you. For myself I may truly say, that,\noutside of my own home, I have no greater happiness than to be among my\npupils, and few things could pain me more than to believe that any one\nwho had been for any considerable time my pupil would not almost\nunconsciously claim me as a friend; and it is an unceasing well-spring\nof joy for me to know that among your companions are many who, in time\nof trouble or difficulty or anxiety of any kind, would come to the\nPrincipal of the School, as sure of sympathy as if going to their own\nmother.\n\nThis freedom of intercourse between teachers and their pupils, this\nmutual exchange of confidence on one side and of sympathy on the other,\nis a source of good and a source of pleasure, which neither you nor we,\nmy young friend, can afford to forego; and if in the expression of this\nthought I have indulged in a rather unseemly use of the first person\nsingular, it is not because I would claim for myself anything peculiar\nin this matter, but because, from my years and my position, I can\nperhaps, better than my associates, afford to speak out thus the inward\npromptings of the heart. We _all_ give you the right hand of fellowship,\nand trust it will not be many weeks, or days even, before you shall feel\nthat you have here a home as well as a school, friends as well as\nteachers.\n\n2. A very common feeling at the beginning of a course of study, is a\nfeeling of discouragement. Nearly all the studies are new, and you enter\nupon each with fresh eagerness. Now, it is in the nature of every study\nwhile it is new, to seem boundless. Under the guiding hand of a skilful\nteacher, its limits and capabilities are stretched out in one direction\nand another, interminable vistas spread out in the distance, and\nportentous difficulties rise up before the imagination, until the mind\nis bewildered.\n\nThere is not one, of the formidable lists of studies before you, that\nmight not of itself, so great are its capabilities, occupy your whole\ntime. When you find yourself called to grapple at once with four or five\nsuch studies, to measure yourself with competitors, many of whom have\nhad opportunities of preparation greatly superior to your own, and in\nthe presence of teachers to whom the whole subject is as familiar and as\nplain as the alphabet, and when, in addition, the methods of recitation\nare for the most part new and strange, you are very apt to become\ndiscouraged, to feel that you shall never learn to recite in the manner\nrequired, that you can never master the difficulties before you. This\nfeeling arises most frequently in the best class of minds, those most\nconscientious in regard to duty and most capable of comprehending the\nfull length and breadth and depth of a subject. The shallow and the\ntrifling are never troubled with the kind of difficulties now under\nconsideration.\n\nI address myself to you, my young friend, because I know you have come\nhere with an earnest purpose, with a mind acute enough to see something\nof the vast work before you, and I say to you, as one who has had large\nexperience in conducting other pilgrims over the same track, never lose\nheart. Difficulties which now seem insurmountable, will gradually\ndisappear; subjects which now seem impenetrable, will soon lighten up.\nDid you never enter a room in the dark? At first the apartment is a\nuniversal blank. After a while, as your eyes become adjusted to the\nplace, one article after another of the furniture becomes outlined to\nthe vision, until at length, especially if approaching day lends some\nadditional rays of light, the whole scene stands out perfectly defined.\nSo it is in entering upon a new study. Many a passage in it will seem to\nyou at first a worse than Serbonian bog--a cave of impenetrable and\nundistinguishable darkness. But draw not back. Look steadily on. Light\nwill come in time. Your power of seeing will, with every new trial,\nreceive adjustment and growth, and you will in the end see with full\nand open vision where now you have only dim glimpses and guesses. Do not\nbe discouraged, therefore, if at first you fail, or seem to yourself to\nfail, in almost every recitation you undertake. What seems impossible\nto-day, will be only next to impossible to-morrow, and only very\ndifficult the day after. Your failures are often only the proofs that\nyou have a glimpse at least of something below the surface of things. A\ndiscouraged pupil is never a source of anxiety to me. It is only the\nself-confident and over-wearing that are hopeless.\n\n3. I have spoken of recitations. Let me urge you to form some definite\nidea of what a recitation is, and what kind of a recitation you, as a\npupil of a Normal School, should aim to make. And first of all, on this\npoint, let me say, the mere answering of questions, and especially, the\nmere response of yes and no to questions, is not reciting,--assuredly\nnot such reciting as is to fit you for the office of a teacher. And, in\nthe next place, let me say, that repeating verbatim the words of the\nbook, is not the method of recitation at which you should aim. I do not\nagree with those who would dissuade you entirely from cultivating the\nfaculty and enriching the stores of memory. Not only memory, in its\ngeneral exercise, but a purely verbal memory, is important. In your\nlessons, are many things, rules, definitions, and so forth, that should\nbe learned with the most literal exactness, and should be so fixed in\nthe memory that they will come at your bidding, in any place, at any\nmoment. There are, too, in some of your books, passages from noble\nauthors, which furnish food and nourishment to the soul, and which the\nmind craves in the very form and lineaments of their birth--passages\nwhich are like nuggets of virgin gold, or coins from the mint of some\ngreat sovereign in the realms of thought. They form a part of your\nwealth, and you want them, neither clipped, nor defaced, nor alloyed,\nbut with every word and point exactly as it came from the hand of the\nmaster. These precious gems of thought, the garnered wealth of the ages,\nwill not be neglected by any one who is wise. Treasure up in your\nintellectual storehouse as many of them as you can possibly compass,\nonly with this proviso, be careful to select for this purpose the very\nbest out of the great abundance that is before you, and make thorough\nwork in what you do attempt to commit to memory. The act of memorizing\nwill at once strengthen the faculty of memory itself, and will enrich\nyou otherwise. By all means, therefore, learn by heart the leading\ndefinitions and rules of your text-books, and choice passages from all\nfamous authors. But do not attempt in this way to commit to memory, or\nto recite verbatim, the pages of your history, geography, rhetoric, and\nso forth. Such a practice would be a most unwise waste of your time, and\nwould cause a weakening, rather than a strengthening, of your faculties.\n\nLet me tell you exactly what I mean by reciting. Your teacher goes to\nthe board and, chalk in hand, explains to the class some point which\nthey seem not to have apprehended. That is my idea of reciting. First\nget thorough possession of the thoughts or facts of the lesson, and\nthen, imagining the class and the teacher to be ignorant of the subject,\nexplain it to them, just as you will expect to do when the time comes\nthat you will have a class of your own to instruct. It will aid you in\npreparing thus to recite a lesson, if in your rooms you will go over it\naloud to each other, you and your room-mate, taking alternate portions.\nSuch a method of preparation will doubtless require some time. But one\nlesson so prepared will be worth more to you than a whole week of study\nconducted in the ordinary manner. Remember, that in a Normal School your\nobject is, not merely to get knowledge, but to learn how to communicate\nwhat you have learned. First then go over a topic till you are sure you\nunderstand it. Then go over it again and again until you can recite\nreadily and perfectly every part of it, in its order. Then practise\nyourself in telling it in your own words, aloud, if possible, to\nsomebody else, until you can make the narration or explanation\ncontinuously, from beginning to end, and without the possibility of\nbeing thrown out or confused by any amount of interruptions. Then at\nlength are you prepared to recite.\n\nIs this standard of recitation too high? Is it not what every one of\nyour teachers does daily, and what you yourself will have to do the very\nfirst time you take your position as a teacher of others?\n\n4. This leads me by a natural transition to the subject of _study_. You\nneed to learn how to study, as much as you need to learn how to recite.\nEndeavor then to get some definite idea in your mind of what it is\nreally to study. Mere reading is not study. Muttering the words over in\na low, gurgling tone, or letting them glide in a soft, half-audible\nripple upon your lips, is not study. Going over the lesson in a\nlistless, dreamy way, one eye on the book and one eye ready for whatever\nis going on in other parts of the room, is not study. Study is work.\nStudy is agony. The whole soul must be roused, its every energy put\nforth, with a fixed, rapt attention, like that of a man struggling with\na giant. Study, worthy of the name, forgets for the time every thing\nelse, excludes every thing else, is incapable of being diverted by any\nthing else, the whole internal and external man being bent upon making\njust one thing its own. Such study of course soon exhausts the energies.\nIt cannot be long protracted, nor need it be protracted. Take rest in\nthe season of rest; but, when you study, study with all your might.\nThrow your whole soul into it. One hour of such study accomplishes more\nthan whole days of listless poring over books. And, remember, you cannot\nstudy in this manner by merely willing to do it. It is an art, requiring\ntraining and practice, and thorough mental discipline. You might as\nwell, on seeing the Writing-Master executing those marvels of\npenmanship, or the Drawing-Teacher with deft fingers limning with ease\nforms of grace and beauty, resolve to go forthwith to the board and do\nthe same thing, as expect, by a mere _sic volo_, to become a student.\nYou are here to learn how to study, and the art will come to you only by\nslow progress, and after many trials.\n\nGive up the illusion that absolute seclusion and silence are necessary\nto study. I do not say that they are not at times desirable. But they do\nnot of themselves generate earnest thought. The vacant mind, that has\nnot yet learned to think, is when thus left to solitude and stillness,\nquite as likely to go a wool-gathering, or to fall asleep, as to wrestle\nwith some hard uninviting train of thought. The appliances and the\ninvitations to mental application, if we have really learned to study,\nmust be mainly in ourselves, not in our surroundings. Besides, the\ngreater part of the actual thinking and study, that has to be done by\nthose in professional life, that will have to be done by you, when you\nenter upon the practice of your profession as a teacher, must be done in\ncircumstances not of your own choosing, just as time and opportunity may\noffer, by snatches, and at odd intervals, and often in the midst of\ndistracting sights and sounds. I venture to say that three fourths of\nthe graduates of this school, who are now teaching, have no opportunity\nfor daily study and preparation for the duties of the school-room,\nexcept that afforded by a seat in the evening in the common sitting-room\nof the family, surrounded by children that are not always models of\nbehavior, and within sight and hearing of all the petty details of\nhousehold life. It is not therefore in itself undesirable that a part at\nleast of your study at school should be performed in a common room,\nwhere there are some temptations to be resisted, some distractions to be\nignored. Acquiring the ability to study without distraction in the\npresence of others and in the midst even of confusion and noise, is as\nimportant to you as is the learning how to think aloud, in the presence\nof a class, which I have defined to be the true nature of a recitation.\nThe ability to study and the ability to recite are intimately\ncorrelated, and the symptoms of both are unmistakable to the practised\neye and ear. I know just as well, by a glance of the eye on entering a\nstudy-room, what pupils are making intellectual growth, as I do on\nentering the class-room and listening to the recitations. One might as\nwell feign to be in a fever, as to feign study. Nothing but the thing\nitself can assume its appearance.\n\n5. I approach my next subject of remark with some hesitation. Yet on no\npoint, in the whole theory of mental action, have I a more fixed and\nassured conviction. Perhaps I may explain my meaning better, if I\nintroduce it with one or two comparisons.\n\nAction of every kind, mental or material, is to be aided or accelerated,\nif at all, by forces of the same kind with the primary force. If a\ncertain amount of weight avoirdupois will not make the scale kick the\nbeam, we may produce the effect by laying on the requisite number of\nadditional pounds,--by adding force of the same kind with the original.\nIf the flame of one candle does not produce the illumination required\nfor a particular effort, the addition of a second or a third will. If we\nwish to increase the speed of a locomotive, we do not whistle to it, or\nwhip it, or say \"get up;\" we add steam. If on the other hand we wish our\nhorse to travel faster, we use a motive addressed to his nature. We\nappeal to his generosity, his pride, or his fear. So mental action is\ninfluenced and induced by forces of the same nature with itself. One\nmind influences powerfully another mind, working upon us often, too, by\nmysterious influences that elude analysis. The influence of mind upon\nmind, other things being equal, is in proportion to the degree of\nperfection in which these three conditions exist, to wit, the fulness\nof accord and sympathy between the minds that are brought into contact,\nthe closeness of the contact, and the greatness and power of the\ninfluencing and controlling mind. These three points hardly need\nexplanation or argument. Nothing is more obvious than that a mind fully\nin sympathy with another, does by that very circumstance exercise an\nincreased mental power on that other. In like manner we all feel daily\nhow our minds are lifted up, enlarged, enlightened, strengthened, by\nintercourse with one of powerful intellect. And how often have we felt,\nwhen ourselves wishing to influence any one, particularly when wishing\nto influence one much younger and weaker than ourselves, that we might\naccomplish our ends the better, if we could only know certainly and\nexactly what he was thinking, if we could as it were actually get into\nthe chamber of his soul. This indeed we can never do. We think sometimes\nthat we come very near to each other. But after all we never touch.\nBetween my mind and yours, between yours and that of the most intimate\nfriend you have in the world, there is a barrier, high as heaven, deep\nas hell, impenetrable as adamant. Thus far can we come and no farther.\nWe can never enter into the soul of any human being. No human being can\never enter into ours. Yet, my dear pupil, did it never occur to you,\nthat there is One Mind, and that a mind of infinitely great and\ntranscendent power, to which there is no such barrier, and that this\ntranscendent, all-knowing, all-powerful mind, is continually in direct\ncontact with the very essence of your mind? Can I influence your\nthinking faculties, and cannot the infinite God, who made those\nfaculties? Can He who gave our bodies all their power of growth and\nstrength, not give growth and strength to our minds? I do not profess to\nunderstand how the divine mind acts upon the human mind. I cannot always\nunderstand even how one human mind acts upon another. But of the fact I\nmake no more question, than I do of the powers of flame, of steam, or of\ngravitation. And, as one set here to guide you in your mental progress,\nin all sober earnestness, I exhort you devoutly to invoke the aid of the\nHoly Ghost in the promotion of your studies--not merely to help you to\nuse your acquisitions rightly, for his honor and the good of your kind,\nbut to help you in making those acquisitions. If you would rise superior\nto discouragement, if you would acquire that mental discipline which is\nto enable you to study, and to recite and to teach in the very best and\nhighest manner, pray. Call mightily upon God the Holy Ghost, who is\nafter all the great educator and teacher of the human race. Carry your\nfeeble lamp to the great fountain of light and radiance. Put your heart\ninto full accord and sympathy with that of your dear elder Brother.\nWrestle mightily with God in secret, as one that feels the burden of a\ngreat want. Thus, my dear pupil, will you best fit yourself for the\nduties of a student and of a teacher. For, believe me, there is sound\nphilosophy as well as religion, in the utterance of the wise man, \"The\nfear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.\" Surely that man is a\nfool, who in cultivating mind, whether his own or that of another,\nneglects to invoke the aid of the Infinite Mind.\n\n\n\n\nXXIX.\n\nAN ARGUMENT FOR COMMON SCHOOLS.\n\n\nThe argument for popular education is familiar and trite, and yet it\nneeds to be occasionally re-stated and enforced. There is no community\nin which there is not a considerable number of persons grossly and\ndangerously ignorant, and there are many communities in which the\nmajority of the people are in this condition. There is no community in\nwhich the importance of general education is over-estimated; there are\nunfortunately many communities in which education is held to be the\nleast important of public interests. A brief discussion of the subject,\ntherefore, can never be entirely out of place.\n\nBefore proceeding to the direct argument, let me notice some of the most\ncommon objections.\n\nIt is a not uncommon opinion, that the business of education should be\nleft, like other kinds of business, to the laws of trade. It is said if\na carpenter is wanted in any community, or a blacksmith, or a tailor, or\na lawyer, or a doctor, carpenters, blacksmiths, tailors, lawyers, and\ndoctors will make their appearance. If a store is wanted, a store will\nspring up. Why not a school-house? Those who use this argument forget\nthe essential difference between the two classes of wants to be\nsupplied. All men equally feel the distress, if naked, or hungry, or\nsick, or suffering from any material want. The poor man, no less than\nthe rich, feels the pinchings of hunger, and will exert himself to\nremedy the evil. The sick man, even more than the well, appreciates the\nvalue of medicine and the necessity of a physician. Not so in the matter\nof knowledge. A man must himself be educated, to understand the value of\neducation. There are exceptions, of course. Yet it is substantially\ntrue, that the want of education is not one of those felt and pinching\nnecessities that compel men's attention, and that consequently may be\nleft to shift for themselves. A man who has himself enjoyed the blessing\nof a good education, expects to provide schools for his children, as\nmuch as he expects to provide for them food and clothing. The wants of\ntheir minds are to him pressing realities, as much as are the wants of\ntheir bodies. Not so with the ignorant and debased neighbors, who live\nwithin stone's throw of his dwelling. They, from their own experience,\nknow nothing better, and are quite content, both for themselves and\ntheir children, to live on in the debased condition in which we see\nthem. If these wretched creatures are ever moved to seek a higher style\nof living and being, the movement must originate outside of themselves.\nIt is a case in which the man of higher advantages must think and act\nfor those below him. It is a case in which people have a pressing need\nwithout knowing it, and in which consequently the laws of supply and\ndemand do not meet the emergency.\n\nAnother common opinion on this subject is that private enterprise is\nadequate to meet the want. Private enterprise in education is not\nindeed to be discarded. Where the community as a whole, in its organized\ncapacity, will do nothing, let individuals do what they can. In such\ncases, let those who appreciate the advantages of education, concert\nmeasures for the establishment of schools and the employment of\nteachers, and for inducing parents who are indifferent to send their\nchildren. By these private efforts, the community may be gradually\nawakened to the importance of the subject, and so be induced to take it\nup on their own account. But private benevolence is not sufficient for\nso great a work. Private benevolence besides is apt to be fitful. It is\nat best subject to interruption by death and by reverses of fortune,\nwhile the cause is one which especially demands steadiness and\ncontinuity. The means for educating a community or a city should no more\nbe subject to interruption, than the means of lighting it, or of\nsupplying it with water.\n\nThe argument for depending upon private enterprise for devising and\nproviding the means for popular education, would apply equally well to\nmatters of police, and to the protection of property. The strong-armed\nand the sagacious can take care of themselves. The stout-hearted and the\ngood, by due concert and combination, could keep criminals in some\ncheck, even in a country where there were no courts of justice, or\nprisons, or detective police. But this is not the ordinary or the best\nmode of accomplishing the end, nor could it in any case be thoroughly\nefficient. The restraint and punishment of crime belong to society as a\nwhole, in its sovereign capacity. To the same society belongs the duty\nof seeing that its members do not fall into degrading ignorance and\nvice. God, in ordaining human society, had something higher in view than\nmerely providing for the punishment of crime. Our Heavenly Father would\nhave his children raised to the full enjoyment of their privileges as\nsocial and rational beings, and he seems to have established society for\nthis very end, among others, that there may be an agency and a machinery\nadequate and fitted to drag even the unwilling out of the mire into\nwhich they have fallen. Without such an interposition on the part of\nsociety as a whole, the work will not be done. The mass of the people\nwill remain in ignorance in every community, in which the community as\nsuch does not provide the means of education and general enlightenment.\n\nIt is often urged against common schools, that they tend to impair\nparental obligation. Let us look this objection fairly in the face. The\nargument is stated as follows. If the community, in its organic capacity\nas a civil government, provides systematically for the instruction of\nthe young, the system, just so far as it is successful and complete,\ndoes away with the necessity for any other provision. The parent,\nfinding this work done to his hands, feels no necessity of looking after\nit himself, and so gradually loses all sense of obligation on the\nsubject. Such a result, it is contended, is in contravention of the\nplainest dictates of nature and the most positive teachings of religion,\nboth nature and religion requiring it as a primary duty of every parent\nto give his child a suitable education.\n\nIn meeting this objection, the friends of common schools agree with the\nobjector to the fullest extent in asserting the imperative, universal,\nirrepealable duty of the parent to educate his own child. The duty is\nnot the less binding on the parent, because a like duty, covering the\nsame point, rests also on the community. The interests involved are so\nmomentous, that God in his wise ordination has given them a double\nsecurity. It is a case in which two distinct parties are both separately\nrequired to see one and the same thing done. It is like taking two\nindorsers to a note. The obligation of one indorser is not impaired,\nbecause another man equally with himself is bound for payment If a child\ngrows up in ignorance and vice, while God will undoubtedly hold the\nparent responsible, he will also not hold the community guiltless. Both\nparties will be guilty before him, both parties will be punished. A man\nis bound to maintain a certain amount of cleanliness about his\nhabitation. If he fails to do so, and if in consequence of this failure\nthe atmosphere around him becomes tainted and malarious, he and his will\nsuffer. Disease and death will visit his abode. But the consequences\nwill not end here. The infection will extend. The whole community will\nbe affected by it. The whole community, equally with the individual, are\nbound to see that the cause of the infection is removed. The infection\nwill not spare the community because the individual has generated it,\nnor will it spare the individual because the community has failed to\nremove it. Each party has a duty and a peril of its own in regard to the\nsame matter.\n\nThe fact is, individuals and the community are so bound together, that\non many points their obligations lie in coincident lines. The matter of\neducation is one of these points. God has ordained the parental\nrelation, and has implanted the parental affections, for this very\nreason, among others, that the faculties of the helpless young immortal\nmay have due training and development,--that this development may not be\nleft to chance, like that of a worthless weed, but may have the\nprotection and guardianship which are the necessary birthright of every\nrational creature brought into being by the voluntary act of another.\nBut God has ordained society also for this same end, among others,\nnamely, that his rational creatures may have a competent agency, bound\nby the laws and necessities of its own welfare to make adequate\nprovision for the instruction and education of every human being. The\none duty does not conflict with the other. The one obligation does not\nimpair the other. Both lie in coincident lines.\n\nBut, as a question of fact, is it true that common schools impair the\nsense of obligation in the minds of parents in regard to the duty of\neducating their children? I affirm the fact to be exactly the contrary.\nThose communities in which there are no common schools, and in which the\npeople generally are in a state of deplorable ignorance, are precisely\nthose in which the sense of parental obligation on this point is at the\nlowest ebb. Go to a region of country in which not one man in ten can\nread and write, and you will find that not one man in ten will care\nwhether his children are taught to read and write. Those communities on\nthe contrary which have the best and most complete system of common\nschools, and in which this system has prevailed longest and has taken\nmost complete hold of the public mind, are the very ones in which\nindividuals will be found most keenly alive to the importance of the\nsubject, and in which a parent will be regarded as a monster, if his\nchildren are allowed to grow up uneducated.\n\nThe objection, therefore, has no foundation either in fact or in reason.\nThere is moreover another consideration not to be overlooked. In this\nmatter of education, it is after all but a small part which the school\ndoes for a child. The main part of the child's education always takes\nplace at home. The teacher is at best only an aid to the parent,\nsupplementing the influences of the home and the street. The child is\ntaking lessons continually from the father and mother, whether they mean\nit or not. Every teacher knows how much more rapidly a child improves at\nschool, whose parents are well educated, and how difficult it is to\nteach a child who at home lives in an atmosphere of profound ignorance.\nThe mind of the one whose home is a region of darkness and intellectual\ntorpor, will be dwarfed and distorted, no matter what the efforts of its\nteachers. The mind of the one, on the contrary, whose home is the abode\nof intellectual light, warmth, and sunshine, will have a corresponding\ngrowth and expansion at school. There is a continual unconscious\ntuition, good or bad, received from the very atmosphere of the family.\nBesides this, there is a great deal of direct, active duty to be\nperformed by the parent in the education of the child. No matter how\ngood the school, or how faithful the teacher, there always remains much\nto be done by the parent, even in regard to the school duties. The\nparent must see that lessons are prepared, that the child is properly\nprovided with books, that the meal times and the other arrangements of\nthe household are such as to help forward the child's studies. There are\na hundred things which the father and mother can do to help or to hinder\nthe work of the school. A child, whose parents give proper home\nsupervision over his studies, will, other things being equal, make twice\nthe progress of one whose parents give the matter no attention. The\ncommunity, therefore, in establishing common schools, does by no means\ntake the whole matter of education out of the hands of the parent. On\nthe contrary, it still leaves with him the most important and necessary\nof the duties connected with the education of his children, while it\ngives him aids for the performance of the remaining duties, which no\nprivate means can ordinarily supply.\n\nI come, however, to a much graver objection. It is urged against common\nschools, as organized in this country, that religious instruction is\nexcluded from them, and that without this element they only tend to make\neducated villains. Education, it is said, without the restraining and\nsanctifying influences of religion, only puts into the hands of the\nmultitude greater power for evil. If this objection is valid, the most\nenlightened and Christian communities of the world have made, and are\nmaking, an enormous mistake. Yet the objection is urged with seriousness\nby men whose purity of motive is above question, and whose personal\ncharacter gives great weight to their opinions. The objection originated\nin England, where all attempts to make legislative provision for the\neducation of the common people have been steadily resisted by a\npotential party in the established church. The arguments put forth in\nthe English religious journals have been reproduced in the journals\nhere, and have in many instances awakened the apprehensions of\nserious-minded persons. It is worth while, therefore, to give the\nsubject some distinct consideration.\n\nIn the first place, the facts are not exactly as stated by those making\nthe objection. Though little direct religious instruction may be given\nin the common school, there is usually a large amount of religious\ninfluence. A great majority of the teachers of our common schools are\nprofessing Christians. Very many of them are among our most active\nSabbath-school teachers. Now a truly godly man or woman, at the head of\na school, though never speaking a word directly on the subject of\nreligion, yet by the power of a silent, consistent example, exerts a\ncontinual Christian influence. In the second place, as a matter of fact,\ndirect religious teaching is not entirely excluded from our public\nschools. I think, it by no means holds that prominent position in the\ncourse of study which it should hold. But it is not entirely excluded.\nThe Bible, with very rare exceptions, is read daily in all our common\nschools. It is appealed to as ultimate authority in questions of history\nand morals. It is quoted for illustration in questions of taste. It is\nin many schools a text-book for direct study. In the third place, nine\nout of ten of the children of the week-day school attend the\nSabbath-school. The Sabbath-school supplements the instructions of the\nweek-day school. The case, therefore, is not that of an education purely\nintellectual. Moral and religious instruction accompanies the\ninstruction in worldly knowledge. The Sabbath-school, the church, and\nthe family, by their combined and ceaseless activities, infuse into our\ncourse of elementary education a much larger religious ingredient than a\nstranger might suppose, who should confine his examination to a mere\ninspection of our common schools, or to the reading of the annual\nreports of our educational boards.\n\nBut apart from all these considerations, taking the question in its\nnaked form, is it true that mere intellectual education has the tendency\nalleged? I do not believe it. The constitution of the human mind gives\nno warrant for such an inference. Recorded, indisputable facts,\noverwhelmingly disprove it. So far is it from being true that the mere\ndiffusion of knowledge has a tendency to make men knaves and infidels, I\nbelieve the very opposite to be true. Knowledge is the natural ally of\nreligion. To hold otherwise, is to disparage and dishonor religion--to\nimply, if not to say, that ignorance is the mother of devotion.\n\nThere is an inborn antagonism between the intellectual and the sensual\nnature of man. If you give to the intellect no development, you leave\nthe senses as the ruling power. We see this strikingly illustrated in\nthe idiotic, who are for the most part disgustingly sensual. Among a\npopulation grossly ignorant and uneducated, sensualism prevails in its\nmost appalling forms. The man is a sensualist, simply because he knows\nno higher pleasures. He is degraded, because he has no motives to be\notherwise. He is barely above a brute. The amount of crime, of the\ncoarsest and most debasing character, among the uneducated peasantry of\nEngland, is almost incredible. Here is a description of an English\npeasant of the present day, given by a competent unimpeached witness,\nhimself an Englishman. I quote from a work on \"The Social Condition and\nEducation of the People of England,\" by Joseph Kay, Esq., of Trinity\nCollege, Cambridge, who was commissioned by the Senate of the University\nto travel for the purpose of examining into the social condition of the\npoorer classes. Says Mr. Kay: \"You cannot address an English peasant,\nwithout being struck with the intellectual darkness which surrounds him.\nThere is neither speculation in his eye nor intelligence in his\ncountenance. His whole expression is more that of an animal than of a\nman. He is wanting too in the erect and independent bearing of a man. As\na class, our peasants have no amusements beyond the indulgence of sense.\nIn nine cases out of ten, recreation is associated in their minds with\nnothing higher than sensuality. About one half of our poor can neither\nread nor write, have never been in any school, and know little, or\npositively nothing, of the doctrines of the Christian religion, of moral\nduties, or of any higher pleasures than beer-drinking and\nspirit-drinking, and the grossest sensual indulgence. They live\nprecisely like brutes, to gratify, so far as their means allow, the\nappetites of their uncultivated bodies, and then die, to go they have\nnever thought, cared, or wondered whither. Brought up in the darkness of\nbarbarism, they have no idea that it is possible for them to attain any\nhigher condition; they are not even sentient enough to desire, with any\nstrength of feeling, to change their situation; they are not intelligent\nenough to be perseveringly discontented; they are not sensible to what\nwe call the voice of conscience; they do not understand the necessity of\navoiding crime, beyond the mere fear of the police and the jail; they\nhave unclear, indefinite, and undefinable ideas of all around them; they\neat, drink, breed, work, and die; and while they pass through their\nbrute-like existence here, the richer and more intelligent classes are\nobliged to guard them with police and standing armies, and to cover the\nland with prisons, cages, and all kinds of receptacles for the\nperpetrators of crime.\"\n\nSurely it must be some hallucination of mind, which leads men to suppose\nthat the diffusion of knowledge among such a population, even though it\nbe only scientific and intellectual knowledge, can have any natural or\ngeneral tendency adverse to religion and morals. Apart, however, from\nspeculation, and as a pure question of fact, the recorded statistics of\ncrime point unmistakably the other way. Criminal records the world over\nprove, beyond reasonable doubt, that the overwhelming majority of crimes\nare committed by persons deplorably ignorant. Intellectual education,\ntherefore, I contend, even when deprived of its natural ally and\nadjunct, religious training, has no natural tendency to produce knaves\nand villains. On the contrary, it is a most efficient corrective and\nrestraint of the evil and debasing tendencies of human nature. If the\nintellect is not so high a region in man's constitution as the moral\npowers, which I readily grant, it is at least above the mere sensual\npart, in which vice and crime have their chief spring and aliment. The\nquestion fortunately is one susceptible of a direct appeal to facts. Who\nare the men and women that people our jails and prisons? Are they\npersons of education, or are they in the main persons deplorably\nignorant? What is the record of criminal statistics on this point?\n\nI will quote a few of these statistics, from a great mass of similar\nevidence lying before me.\n\nOut of 252,544 persons committed for crime in England and Wales, during\na series of years, 229,300, or more than 90 per cent., are reported as\nuneducated, either entirely unable to read and write, or able to do so\nonly very imperfectly; 22,159 could read and write, but not fluently;\nand only 1085 (_less than one half per cent. of the whole_) were what we\ncall educated persons.\n\nIn nine consecutive years, beginning with the year 1837, only 28\neducated females were brought to the bar of criminal justice in England\nand Wales, out of 7,673,633 females then living in that part of the\nUnited Kingdom; and in the year 1841, out of the same population, not\none educated female was committed for trial.\n\nIn a special commission, held in 1842, to try those who had been guilty\nof rioting and disturbance in the manufacturing districts, out of 567\nthus tried, 154 could neither read nor write, 155 could read only, 184\ncould read and write imperfectly, 73 could read and write well, and only\none had received superior instruction.\n\nIn 1840, in 20 counties of England and Wales, with a population of\n8,724,338, there were convicted of crime only 59 educated persons, or\none for every 147,870 inhabitants. In 32 other counties, with a\npopulation of 7,182,491, the records furnished _not one convict_ who had\nreceived more than the merest elements of instruction.\n\nIn 1841, in 15 English counties, with a population of 9,569,064, there\nwere convicted only 74 instructed persons, or one to every 129,311\ninhabitants, while the 25 remaining counties and the whole of Wales,\nwith a population of 6,342,661, did not furnish one single conviction of\na person who had received more than the mere elements of education.\n\nIn 1845, out of a total of 59,123 persons taken into custody, 15,263\ncould neither read nor write, and 39,659 could barely read, and could\nwrite very imperfectly.\n\nIn the four best taught counties of England, the number of schools being\none for every seven hundred inhabitants, the number of criminal\nconvictions was one a year for every 1108 inhabitants. In the four worst\ntaught counties, the number of schools being one for every 1501\ninhabitants, the number of convictions was one a year for every 550\ninhabitants. That is, in one set of counties, the people were about\ntwice as well educated as in the other, and one half as much addicted to\ncrime. In other words, in proportion as the people were educated, were\nthey free from crime.\n\nThrift and good morals usually keep pace with the spread of intelligence\namong the people. This has been the result in all those countries of\nEurope where good common schools are maintained, as in Iceland, Norway,\nSweden, Denmark, Holland, Belgium, and most of the German States.\nPauperism, with its attendant evils and crimes, is almost unknown in\nthose countries, while in England, where the common people are worse\neducated than those of any Protestant nation in the world, pauperism has\nbecome an evil which her wisest statesmen have given up as unmanageable.\nIn 1848, in addition to hundreds of persons assisted by charitable\nindividuals, no less than 1,876,541 paupers (_one out of every eight of\nthe population!_) were relieved by the boards of guardians of the poor,\nat an expense from the public purse of nearly thirty millions of\ndollars.\n\nIn our own country, the same pains have not been taken to collect\nstatistics on this subject, because comparatively little controversy\nabout it has existed here to call forth inquiry. We as a people have\ngenerally taken it for granted that popular education lessens crime and\npauperism. Still, facts enough have been recorded to show the same\nresults here as elsewhere. When an educated villain is convicted, like\nMonroe Edwards or Professor Webster, the fact becomes so notorious by\nmeans of the press, that it is unconsciously multiplied in our\nimagination, and we think the instances more numerous than they really\nare. We never think of the scores of obscure villains that are convicted\nevery week all the year round. A quotation or two from the facts which\nhave been recorded, will be sufficient to satisfy us on this point.\n\nIn the Ohio penitentiary, out of 276 inmates, nearly all were reported\nas ignorant, and 175 as grossly so.\n\nIn the Auburn prison, New York, out of 244 inmates, only 39 could read\nand write.\n\nIn the Sing Sing prison, no official record has been made on this\npoint. But the Rev. Mr. Luckey, for more than twenty years chaplain of\nthe prison, is obliged by the prison regulations to superintend and read\nall the letters between the prisoners and their friends. In this manner\nhe becomes personally acquainted with the condition of the convicts in\nregard to education. He reported a few months since to the writer of\nthese pages, that while there are always some among the convicts who\nhave been educated, yet the great mass of them are stolidly ignorant.\nThere are usually between one and two hundred learning to read, and this\ndoes not include the half of those who are unable to read, as the\nattendance upon the class is voluntary, the accommodations are meagre,\nand most of the prisoners are indifferent to their own improvement. Not\nfive in a hundred can write otherwise than in the most clumsy and\nawkward manner, and with the grossest blunders in orthography, and not\nmore than two in a hundred can write a sentence grammatically. Out of\nthe 700 then in prison, only three were liberally educated, and two of\nthese were foreigners.\n\nThroughout the State of New York, in 1841, the ratio of uneducated\ncriminals to the whole number of uneducated persons was twenty-eight\ntimes as great as the ratio of educated inhabitants.\n\nIn view of the facts which have been given, and which might be\nmultiplied to almost any extent, it is not easy to avoid the conclusion\nthat mere intellectual education has some power to restrain men from the\ncommission of crime. Assuredly, ignorance and sin are natural adjuncts\nand allies.\n\nSchools undoubtedly cost something. The community that undertakes to\neducate the masses, or the individual that undertakes to educate his\nchildren, must expect to have a serious bill to pay. It is a pernicious\nfolly to inculcate the contrary. The advocate of popular education, who\ntries to persuade people into the experiment, under the assurance that\nthe expense will be trifling, misleads his readers, and puts back the\ncause which he would fain put forward. But there is a most significant\n_per contra_ in the account, and on this there is no danger of dwelling\ntoo much. Nothing is so costly as crime, and no preventive of crime is\nmore efficient than education. Schoolhouses are cheaper than jails,\nteachers and books are a better security than handcuffs and policemen.\nThere are educated villains, it is true. But they are rare, and they\nattract the greater attention by the very fact of their rarity. But go\ninto a prison, or a criminal court, or a police court, and see who they\nare that mainly occupy the proceedings of our expensive machinery of\ncriminal justice. Nine-tenths of those miserable creatures are in a\nstate of most deplorable ignorance. Degraded, sensual, with no knowledge\nof anything better than the indulgence of the lowest passions, without\nmental resources, or any avenue to intellectual enjoyment, they often\nresort to crime from sheer want of something better to do. When Dr.\nJohnson was asked, \"Who is the most miserable man?\" his reply was, \"The\nman who cannot read on a rainy day.\" There is profound meaning in the\nanswer. The man who has been educated, who not only can read, but has\nacquired a taste for reading, and for reading of a proper kind, is\nrarely driven into low and debasing crime. He has resources within\nhimself, which are a counterpoise to the incitements of his animal\nnature. His awakened intellect and conscience also make him understand\nmore clearly the danger and guilt of a life of crime. Many of the deeds\nwhich swell the records of our criminal courts spring from poverty, as\nevery criminal lawyer well knows, and there is no remedy against extreme\npoverty so sure as education. The old adage says that knowledge is\npower. It is also wealth. A man with even an ordinary, common school\neducation, can turn himself in a hundred ways, where a mere ignorant\nboor would be utterly helpless. The faculties are developed, ingenuity\nis quickened, the man's resources are enlarged. An educated man may be\ntempted to crime, but he is not driven into it, as hundreds are daily,\nby mere poverty, or by an intolerable hunger of the mind for enjoyment\nof some kind.\n\nSchools, then, especially schools in which moral and religious truth is\ninculcated, are the most powerful means of lessening crime, and of\nlessening the costly and frightful apparatus of criminal administration.\nAs schoolhouses and churches increase in the land, jails and prisons\ndiminish. As knowledge is diffused, property becomes secure, and rises\nin value. A community, therefore, is bound to see that its members are\nproperly educated, if for no other reason, in mere self-defence. The\nmany must be educated, in order that the many may be protected. A great\ncity is just as sacredly bound to provide for its teeming population the\nlight of knowledge, as it is to provide material light for its streets.\nThe one kind of illumination, equally with the other, is an essential\npart of its police. No matter what the cost, the dark holes and alleys\nmust be flooded with the light of truth, before which the owls and bats\nand vampyres of society will be scattered to the winds. A great city\nwithout schools would be a hell,--a seething caldron of vice, impurity,\nand crime. No man of sound mind would choose such a place for the\nresidence of himself and family, who had the means of living in any\nother place. If we could suppose two cities entirely equal in other\nrespects, but in one of them a superior and costly system of free\nschools, while the other spent not a dollar upon schools, but depended\nsolely upon the rigors of the law and the strong arm of avenging justice\nfor restraining the ignorant and corrupt masses, can there be any doubt\nwhich city would be the safest and most desirable place of residence?\n\nWhatever view of this subject may be taken in other countries, we in\nthis country are shut up to the necessity of popular education. We at\nleast have no choice. Universal suffrage necessitates universal\neducation. If we do not educate our people, educate universally, educate\nwisely and liberally, we can hardly expect to maintain permanently our\npopular institutions. The man's vote, who cannot read the names on the\nballot which he throws into the box, counts just as much in deciding\npublic affairs as yours, who are versed in statesmanship and political\neconomy. He is a partner in the political firm. You can neither withdraw\nfrom the firm yourself, nor can you throw him out. In the absence of\ngeneral education, this tremendous power of suffrage is something\nfrightful to contemplate. \"The greatest despotism on earth,\" says De\nTocqueville, \"is an excited, untaught public sentiment; and we should\nhate not only despots, but despotism. When I feel the hand of power lie\nheavy on my brow, I care not to know who oppresses me; the yoke is not\nthe easier, because it is held out to me by a million of men.\"\n\nThe danger from this source is intensified by the immense immigration\nfrom abroad which is going on, and which bids fair very greatly to\nincrease. The great majority of those who seek our shores, come here\nignorant. With little knowledge of any kind, and with no knowledge\nwhatever of the nature of republican institutions, these men, almost at\nonce, are made sharers of the popular sovereignty, with all its\ntremendous powers of peace and war, order and anarchy, life and death.\nNot to have a system of public education, by which these ignorant and\ndangerous masses shall be enlightened, and shall be assimilated to the\nrest, and to the better part, of the population, is simply suicidal. Our\nnational life hangs upon our common schools.\n\nBesides this grave political consideration, affecting the interests of\nthe entire body politic, and the question of the success and stability\nof our national institutions, there is another consideration coming home\nclosely and individually to each man's personal interests. Where the law\nof trial by jury prevails, every citizen, whether educated or ignorant,\ntakes part in the administration of justice. Twelve men, taken\nindiscriminately from the mass of the people, or if with any\ndiscrimination, taken more frequently from the lower walks of life than\nfrom the higher, are placed in a jury box to decide upon almost every\npossible question of human interests. The jury decides your fortune,\nyour reputation. The jury says whether you live or die. Go into a court\nof justice. Are they light matters which those twelve men are to\ndetermine? Look at the anxious faces of those whose estates, whose good\nname, whose worldly all hangs upon the intelligence of those twelve men,\nor of any one of them. What assurance have you, save that which comes\nfrom popular education, that these men will understand and do their\nduty? Who would like to trust his legal rights or his personal safety to\nthe verdict of a jury of Neapolitan lazzaroni?\n\nIn a few short years, the idle boys who are now prowling about the\nstreets and alleys of our towns, the wharf-rats of our cities, will be a\npart of our jurymen. Is it of no consequence to me, whether their minds\nshall be early trained and disciplined, so that they will be capable of\nfollowing a train of argument, or of comprehending a statement of facts?\nHow is it possible to administer justice with any degree of fairness and\nefficiency, where the majority of those who are to constitute the\njurymen and the witnesses are stolidly ignorant? By common law, every\nman has a right to be tried by his peers. Let law then provide that\nthose shall, in some substantial sense, be my peers, on whose voice my\nall in life may depend.\n\nBut let us recur once more to the economical part of the argument. When\na community is taxed for the support of common schools, the question\nnaturally rises among the taxpayers, Is the system worth the cost? Does\nthe community, by the diffusion of knowledge and education, gain enough\nto counterbalance the large expense which such education involves? Even\nif this question could not be answered in the affirmative, it would not\nfollow that common schools should be dispensed with. Common schools are\nneeded as the best and cheapest protection against the crimes incident\nto an ignorant and degraded population. Common schools are right and\nproper, because without them the majority of those created in the image\nof God will never attain to that noble manhood which is their rightful\ninheritance. But the argument will receive additional force, if it can\nbe shown that general education increases the wealth of the community.\n\nThat education does have this effect is evident, I think, from two\nindependent lines of argument. First, an intelligent, educated man is\ncapable individually of achieving greater material results than one who\nis ignorant. Secondly, the general diffusion of intelligence through a\ncommunity leads to labor-saving inventions, and thus increases its\nproducing power.\n\nIn regard to the first line of argument, some curious and instructive\nfacts were collected a few years since by the late Horace Mann. His\ninquiries were directed to the efficiency of operatives in factories, a\nclass of men who would seem to require as little general intelligence as\nany kind of laborers. It was found that, as a general rule, those\noperatives who could sign their names to their weekly receipts for\nmoney, were able to do one-third more work, and to do it better, than\nthose who made their mark. Nor is this at all to be wondered at. There\nis no kind of work, done by the aid of human muscle, that is purely\nmechanical. Mind is partner in all that the body does. Mind directs and\ncontrols muscle, and even in emergency gives it additional energy and\npower. No matter how simple the process in which an operative may be\nengaged, some cultivation of his mental powers is needed. Without it he\nmisdirects his own movements, and mistakes continually the orders of his\nsuperintending workman. A boy who has been to a good common school, and\nhas had his mental activities quickened, and whose mind has been\nstimulated and roused by worthy motives, not only will be more\nindustrious for it when he becomes a man, but his industry will be more\neffective. He will accomplish more, even as a day laborer, than the mere\nignorant boor. When we come to any kind of skilled labor, the difference\nbetween the educated and the ignorant is still more apparent. An\nintelligent mechanic is worth twice as much as one ignorant and stupid.\n\nMany years ago a very instructive fact on this point came under my own\npersonal observation. A gentleman of my acquaintance had frequent need\nof the aid of a carpenter. The work to be done was not regular\ncarpentry, but various odd jobs, alterations and adaptations to suit\nspecial wants, and no little time and materials were wasted in the\nperpetual misconceptions and mistakes of the successive workmen\nemployed. At length a workman was sent who was a German, from the\nkingdom of Prussia. After listening attentively to the orders given, and\ndoing what he could to understand what his employer wanted, Michael\nwould whip out his pencil, and in two or three minutes, with a few rapid\nlines, would present a sketch of the article, so clear that any one\ncould recognize it at a glance. It could be seen at once, also, whether\nthe intention of his employer had been rightly conceived, and whether it\nwas practicable. The consequence was, that so long as Michael was\nemployed, there was no more waste of materials and time, to say nothing\nof the vexation of continued failures. Michael was not really more\nskilful as a carpenter than the many others who had preceded him. But\nhis knowledge of drawing, gained in a common school in his native\ncountry, made his services worth from fifty cents to a dollar a day more\nthan those of any other workman in the shop, and he actually received\ntwo dollars a day, when others in the same shop were receiving only a\ndollar and a quarter. He was always in demand, and he always received\nextra wages, and his work even at that rate was considered cheap.\n\nWhat was true of Michael in carpentry, would be true of any other\ndepartment of mechanical industry. In cabinet-making, in shoe-making, in\ntailoring, in masonry, in upholstery, in the various contrivances of tin\nand sheet iron with which our houses are made comfortable, in\ngas-fitting and plumbing, in the thousand-and-one necessities of the\nfarm, the garden, and the kitchen, a workman who is ready and expert\nwith his pencil, who has learned to put his own ideas, or those of\nanother, rapidly on paper, is worth fifty per cent. more than his\nfellows who have not this skill.\n\nThe example of this man was brought vividly to my mind at a later day,\nin Philadelphia, when an important educational question was under\ndiscussion. Rembrandt Peale had two dreams, each worthy of his genius.\nOne was to paint a Washington which should go down to posterity; the\nother was so to simplify the elements of the art of drawing that young\nboys and girls might learn it as universally as they learn to read and\nwrite. He spent long years in maturing a little work for this purpose,\nno bigger than a primer or a spelling-book, and a determined effort was\nmade on the part of some of the friends of popular education to\nintroduce the study into the primary public schools of Philadelphia. It\nwas introduced into the High Schools. But its benefits were limited to a\ncomparatively small number. The hope and the aim of the friends of Mr.\nPeale's project were to make the study an elementary one--to make a\ncertain amount of proficiency in drawing a test of promotion from the\nlower schools to the schools above it. This would have placed \"Graphics\"\nalongside of the copy-book and the spelling-book. After struggling for\nseveral years with popular prejudice, the friends of the scheme were\nobliged to abandon it as hopeless. The idea was too much in advance of\nthe times. Could the plan have succeeded, and could the entire youthful\npopulation of that great city, which is preeminently a mechanical and\nmanufacturing centre, have grown up with a familiar practised skill in\nthe use of the pencil, in ordinary, off-hand drawing, such as our friend\nMichael had, there can be no question that it would have added untold\nmillions to the general wealth. If every boy and girl in that great\nmetropolitan city were now obliged to spend as much time in learning to\ndraw as is spent in learning to spell, and at the same age that they\nlearn to spell, I do soberly believe that the addition to the wealth of\nthe city, by the increased mechanical skill that would be developed,\nwould be worth more than the entire cost of her public schools, although\nthey do cost well-nigh a million of dollars annually.\n\nWhat is true of drawing, is true of every branch and accomplishment\nnecessary to a complete education. A man is educated when all his\ncapacities bodily and mental are developed, and a community is educated\nwhen all its members are. Now if we could imagine two communities, of\nexactly equal numbers, and in physical circumstances exactly equal as to\nclimate, soil, access to markets, and so forth, and if one of these\ncommunities should tax itself to the extent of even one-fourth of its\nincome in promoting popular education, while the other spent not a\ndollar in this way, there can be little doubt as to which community\nwould make the most rapid advances in wealth and in every other\ndesirable social good.\n\nWe happen to have on this subject one most striking and significant\nrecord. In 1670, the English Commissioners for Foreign Plantations\naddressed to the Governors of the several colonies a series of questions\nconcerning the condition of the settlements under their charge. One of\nthese questions related to the means of popular education. The answers\nof two of the Governors are preserved. One of them, the Governor of\nConnecticut, ruled a territory to which nature had not been specially\npropitious. Its climate was bleak, its coast rockbound, its soil blest\nwith only ordinary fertility. The other territory, Virginia, had an\nextraordinary amount of natural advantages. It had fine harbors,\nnumerous navigable streams, a climate more temperate by several degrees\nthan its rival, the soil in its lowlands and valleys unsurpassed in any\nof the Plantations for its capacity to produce wheat, corn, and tobacco,\nits mountains filled with untold treasures of lime, iron, and coal,\n(and, it now seems, with petroleum also,) and withal that wonderful\nvariety of natural resources, which seems best suited to stimulate and\nreward the productive industry of its inhabitants.\n\nThe Governor of the less favored colony replied to the Royal\nCommissioners, as follows: \"_One-fourth_ of the annual revenue of the\nColony is laid out in maintaining free schools for the education of our\nchildren.\" The policy thus early impressed upon the colony has been\nmaintained with steadfast and almost proverbial consistency to this day,\nthat region being known the world over as the land of schoolmasters. The\nGovernor of the other colony replied, \"I thank God, there are no free\nschools, nor printing, and I hope we shall not have, these hundred\nyears.\" To this policy she also has until lately only too faithfully\nadhered. Now what is the result?\n\nBy referring to the tables accompanying the Census of 1860, we find the\nfollowing significant facts.\n\n1. The average cash value of land was not quite $12 an acre in one\ncommonwealth (Virginia), and a little over $30 an acre in the other.\n\n2. One commonwealth sustained only five inhabitants to every hundred\nacres of her soil, the other sustained eighteen inhabitants to every\nhundred acres.\n\n3. The value of all property, real and personal, averaged by the\npopulation, was in one commonwealth $496 to every inhabitant, in the\nother $965 to every inhabitant.\n\n4. The value of all property, real and personal, averaged by the acre,\nwas in one commonwealth less than $26 to the acre, in the other more\nthan $177 to the acre.\n\nTo which facts I may add, what is true, though not in the Census, it was\nthe invention of Eli Whitney, a travelling schoolmaster from\nConnecticut, that has trebled the value of land in nearly every Southern\nState.\n\nI have been endeavoring to show that popular education, though it is\nexpensive, tends to national wealth. The argument is that an educated\npopulation is capable of producing greater material results than a\npopulation uneducated can produce. The example of Eli Whitney, just\nreferred to, suggests the other line of argument, which I shall now\nnotice briefly in conclusion. This second argument is, that the general\ndiffusion of intelligence in a community tends to quicken invention, and\nleads to the discovery of those scientific principles and of those\ningenious labor-saving machines, by which the productive power of the\ncommunity is so greatly multiplied. The cotton-gin, the steam-engine,\nthe sewing-machine, and the reaping-machine would never have been\ninvented in a nation of boors. It is not asserted that every boy who\ngoes to school will become an inventor. But it is as certain as the laws\nof mind and matter can make it, that inventions abound in a nation in\nproportion to its progress in science and the general spread of\nintelligence among the masses. Multiply common schools and you multiply\ninventions. How much these latter increase man's producing power, and\nso add to the aggregate of human wealth, it is needless to say. The\ninvention of Watt alone has quadrupled the productive power of the whole\nhuman race. The aggregate steam-power of one single country, Great\nBritain, equals the muscular capacity for labor of four hundred millions\nof men--more than twice the number of adult males capable of labor on\nour planet. Its aggregate power throughout the earth is equal to the\nmale capacity for manual work of four or five worlds like ours. The\ncommerce, the navigation, the maritime warfare, the agriculture, the\nmechanic arts of the human race, have been revolutionized by this single\ninvention not yet a century old.\n\nThe application of scientific truths to the common industries of life is\nbecoming every day more and more a necessity. The village carpenter, no\nless than the builder of the Niagara Suspension Bridge, makes hourly\nreference to scientific laws. The carpenter who misapplies his formulae\nfor the strength of materials, builds a house which falls down. The\nproperties of the various mechanical powers are involved in every\nmachine. Every machine, indeed, it has been well said, is a solidified\nmechanical theorem. The surveyor in determining the limits of one's\nfarm, the architect in planning a house, the builder in planning his\nestimates, and the several master workmen who do the carpentry, masonry,\nand finishing, are all dependent upon geometric truths. Bleaching,\ndyeing, calico-printing, gas-making, soap-making, sugar-refining, the\nreduction of metals from their ores, with innumerable other productive\nindustries, are dependent upon chemistry. Agriculture, the basis of all\nthe other arts, is in the same condition. Chemical knowledge, indeed, is\ndoing for the productive powers of the soil what the application of\nsteam has done for the increase of mechanical power. The farmer who\nwishes to double his crops, finds the means of doing so, not in\nmultiplying his acres, but in applying a knowledge of the laws of\nchemistry to the cultivation of the soil already possessed. Even\nphysiology is adding to the wealth of the farming interest. The truth\nthat the production of animal heat implies waste of substance, and that\ntherefore preventing the loss of heat prevents the need for extra\nfood--which is a purely theoretical conclusion--now guides the fattening\nof cattle. By keeping cattle warm, fodder is saved. Experiments of\nphysiologists have proved, not only that change of diet is beneficial,\nbut that digestion is facilitated by a mixture of ingredients in each\nmeal. Both these truths are now influencing cattle-feeding. In the keen\nrace of competition, the farmer who has a competent knowledge of the\nlaws of animal and vegetable physiology and of agricultural chemistry,\nwill surely distance the one who gropes along by guess and by tradition.\nA general diffusion of scientific knowledge saves the community from\ninnumerable wasteful and foolish mistakes. In England, not many years\nago, the partners in a large mining company were ruined from not knowing\nthat a certain fossil belonged to the old red sandstone, below which\ncoal is never found. In another enterprise, L20,000 were lost in the\nprosecution of a scheme for collecting the alcohol that distils from\nbread in baking, all of which might have been saved, had the parties\nknown that less than one hundredth part by weight of the flour is\nchanged in fermentation.\n\nBut it is not necessary to multiply illustrations. Suffice it to say, in\nconclusion, I hold it to be a most manifest truth, that the general\neducation of a community increases largely its material wealth, both by\nthe direct effect which knowledge has upon individuals in making them\nindividually more productive, and by the increased control which the\ndiffusion of knowledge gives to mankind over the powers of nature. A\nnation or a state is wisely economical which spends largely and even\nlavishly upon popular education.\n\n\n\n\nXXX.\n\nWHAT IS EDUCATION?\n\n\nMy last chapter, like the first, begins with a question. Strange to say,\nno satisfactory definition of education has yet been given, nor has a\ndefinition of it often been even attempted. The literature of the\nsubject is copious enough. But writers have busied themselves mainly\nwith details, with methods of teaching, and so forth. A few, of a more\nphilosophical turn of mind, have discussed the principles of the\nsubject, and among these some have undertaken to develop their theories\nfrom the true starting-point of a definition. But among all these, from\nPlato, who was the earliest systematic writer on the subject, to Herbert\nSpencer, the latest and the most pretentious, not one has given a\ndefinition of it which is not open to objection.\n\nIt may seem presumptuous, perhaps, to undertake again that in which so\nmany have failed. But there can be no harm in making at least an\nendeavor. What then are some of the elements which enter into our idea\nof education?\n\nTo educate is, in the first place, to develop. It is to draw out and\nstrengthen the powers and give them right direction. It is, therefore,\nsomething more than merely imparting knowledge. Knowledge is to the\nchild's mind what food is to the body. Each is a means to an end. It is\nto cause growth. As by the proper use of food and exercise the limbs and\nmuscles expand, and acquire their full and appointed size, symmetry, and\nstrength, so by acquiring and using knowledge of various kinds, the\nvarious faculties of the mind attain their full power and proportion.\nFor this reason mainly the pure mathematics and the ancient languages,\nLatin and Greek, have held their place in almost every course of liberal\nstudy, not because the knowledge of these branches is likely to be\ncalled for in ordinary professional business, but because the study of\nthese branches is supposed to be particularly adapted to develop and\ninvigorate certain important qualities of the mind. This development of\nthe powers, then, is the first element involved in a just idea of\neducation.\n\nBut, secondly, nature plainly indicates a certain order to be observed\nin the development of the faculties. \"First the blade, then the ear,\nafter that the full corn in the ear.\" So in the human plant. The time\nfor the efflorescence of some of the faculties is in early youth. Other\nfaculties make little growth till near the age of manhood. A wise\neducator will carefully observe these facts, and not waste his energies\nand mar his work, either by attempting a premature development of those\nfaculties which God seems to have meant to ripen later, or by neglecting\nto draw out and train in childhood those faculties which then most\nnaturally and aptly spring into vigorous growth. Youth, for instance, is\nthe season, of all others, when the memory is to be cultivated; the\nseason of all others, when the instinctive principle of faith is to have\nfree play. So, too, the moral and emotional faculties may receive the\nfirst germs of their development at a very early stage in the history of\nthe human being. The education of this part of our nature begins,\nindeed, with the first smile of recognition that passes between the\ninfant and its mother. Other faculties and powers, as the reason and the\njudgment, for instance, come to maturity nearer the age of manhood, and\nthe normal period for their cultivation is accordingly near the end,\nrather than near the beginning, of an educational course. It is not,\nhowever, my object here to mark out an order for the development of the\nfaculties, but only to note that there is such an order, and that the\nobservance of this order is a most important element in our idea of what\neducation is.\n\nThe next element in this idea is that a certain proportion and symmetry\nbe observed in the development of the powers. Perhaps it might not be\nstrictly accurate to say that any faculty may be cultivated too highly.\nYet there certainly is an excess whenever one faculty or power is\ncultivated quite out of proportion to the other faculties and powers. A\nman in Boston a few years ago, by directing his attention exclusively\nfor a long time to the single act of lifting, educated his body to the\npower of lifting enormous weights. But this power was gained at the\nexpense of agility, grace, and many other bodily qualities quite as\nimportant as that of lifting weights. So the mental faculties may become\none-sided by injudicious training. The memory may be inordinately\ndeveloped at the expense of the reasoning power, the reason at the\nexpense of the imagination, the feelings at the expense of the judgment,\nthe mind at the expense of the body, the body at the expense of the\nmind. In all right education, therefore, the faculties are to be\ndeveloped, not only in due order, but in due proportion.\n\nThe next element that enters into our idea is that of a proper\ncomprehensiveness. The educator must bear in mind that the being\ncommitted to his care is one of a complex nature, and that every part of\nthis complex nature is to receive its due attention. Physical education\nis included in his duties as well as mental, mental as well as moral and\nreligious. No part is to be neglected. He should aim to secure for his\nsubject full bodily health, agility, strength, symmetry, and power of\nendurance. The bodily senses are capable of a degree of cultivation that\nfew seem to be aware of. Perhaps, in our ordinary schemes of education,\nno part of our complex nature is so inadequately provided for, so almost\nignored, as the physical. But, as in regard to the other points that\nhave been raised, so here, it is not my object so much to particularize\nthe several parts of human nature that require attention, as to\nrecognize distinctly the fact that we are thus complex, and that the\nbusiness of the educator is necessarily a many-sided one, requiring most\nvaried knowledge and experience.\n\nBut there is one important limitation to be observed here, otherwise our\ndefinition would be seriously amiss. In many works on education, it is\nstated, without qualification, that we ought to give to all our powers\nthe fullest development of which they are capable. If we were unfallen\nangels, the rule might perhaps be a safe one. But for fallen human\nbeings, it certainly needs some limitation. We have faculties and\npowers, not a few, which we need to repress rather than to cultivate.\nAre we to give the fullest development of which they are capable, to\nanger, envy, jealousy, cunning, avarice, and lust? To state the question\nis to answer it. It is not every faculty of the child, therefore, that\nis to be developed, but only those parts of his nature which are good\nand desirable, those by which he can best discharge his duties to God\nand attain his highest excellence as a man.\n\nLet us now gather up the several ideas which have been suggested, and\nsee if we cannot compress them into some brief formula, as a definition\nof education, which, if not perfect and exhaustive of the subject, shall\nbe both more comprehensive and more precise than those now afloat.\n\nDefinition.--Education is developing, in due order and proportion,\nwhatever is good and desirable in human nature.\n\n\n\n\nMODEL TEXT BOOKS FOR SCHOOLS, ACADEMIES AND COLLEGES.\n\n\nA NEW EDITION OF THE CLASSICS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCHASE & STUART'S CLASSICAL SERIES.\n\nEDITED BY\n\nTHOMAS CHASE, A.M.,\n  PROFESSOR OF CLASSICAL LITERATURE,\n  _Haverford College_,\n  Penna.\n\nGEORGE STUART, A.M.,\n  PROFESSOR OF THE LATIN LANGUAGE,\n  _Central High School_,\n  Philada.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nREFERENCES TO\nHARKNESS'S LATIN GRAMMAR,\nAND\nANDREWS & STODDARD'S LATIN GRAMMAR.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe publication of this edition of the Classics was suggested by the\nconstantly increasing demand by teachers for an edition which, by\njudicious notes, would give to the student the assistance really\nnecessary to render his study profitable, furnishing explanations of\npassages difficult of interpretation, of peculiarities of syntax, &c.,\nand yet would require him to make faithful use of his grammar and\ndictionary.\n\nIt is believed that this Classical Series needs only to be known to\ninsure its very general use. The publishers claim for it peculiar merit,\nand beg leave to call attention to the following important particulars:\n\nThe purity of the texts.\n\nThe clearness and conciseness of the notes, and their adaptation to the\nwants of students.\n\nThe beauty of the type and paper.\n\nThe handsome style of binding.\n\nThe convenience of the shape and size.\n\nThe low price at which the volumes are sold.\n\nThe preparation of the whole Series is the _original work_ of American\nscholars.\n\nThe texts are not _mere reprints_, but are based upon a careful and\npainstaking comparison of _all the most improved editions_, with\nconstant reference to the authority of the best manuscripts.\n\nNo pains have been spared to make the notes accurate, clear, and\n_helpful to the learner_. Points of geography, history, mythology, and\nantiquities are explained in accordance with the views of the best\nGerman scholars. The references to the grammars most in use in this\ncountry, viz.:\n\n  HARKNESS'S LATIN GRAMMAR\n  AND\n  ANDREWS & STODDARD'S LATIN GRAMMAR,\n\nis in itself an advantage to be gained only by the use of this edition.\n\nDesirous of affording Professors and Teachers of Latin throughout the\nentire country an opportunity of becoming acquainted with these books,\nthe publishers will send copies for examination, gratis, to every\nTeacher of Latin in the United States, on application, accompanied by a\ncatalogue of the institution with which he is connected, or of which he\nis the Principal.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Series, when complete, will consist of\n\n  CAESAR'S COMMENTARIES,\n  VIRGIL'S AENEID,\n  CICERO'S ORATIONS,\n  HORACE, SALLUST AND LIVY,\n\nOf which there are now ready the following, viz.:\n\nCAESAR'S COMMENTARIES\n\non the Gallic War. With Explanatory Notes, a Vocabulary, Geographical\nIndex, Map of Gaul, Plan of the Bridge, &c., &c. By Prof. George Stuart.\nPrice by mail, postpaid, $1.25. Per dozen, by express, $11.25.\n\nThe text of Caesar has been carefully compared with that of Kraner,\nOehler, Nepperdey, and other distinguished editors. Much care has been\nbestowed upon this portion of the work, and it is hoped that whatever\nimprovements have been introduced into the text by the learning and\nresearch of the German editors named, will be found in the present\nedition.\n\nThe Notes have been prepared with a very simple view,--to give the\nstudent that amount and kind of assistance which are really necessary to\nrender his study profitable; to remove difficulties greater than his\nstrength; and to afford or direct him to the sources of such information\nas is requisite to a thorough understanding of the author.\n\nVIRGIL'S AENEID.\n\nWith Explanatory Notes, Metrical Index, Remarks on Classical\nVersification, Index of Proper Names, &c. By Prof. Thomas Chase. Price\nby mail, postpaid, $1.50. Per dozen, by express, $13.50.\n\nThe text of the AEneid here presented is based upon a careful collation\nof the editions of Heyne, Wagner, Conington, Ladewig, and Ribbeck, with\nfrequent reference to other standard authorities, and with constant and\nespecial regard to the testimony of the best manuscripts. In the\npreparation of the Notes, the endeavor has been made to meet the actual\nwants of students in our schools. Frequent references are made to the\ngrammars most in use, and explanations are furnished of passages\ndifficult of interpretation, of peculiarities of syntax, and of such\npoints of history, geography, mythology, and antiquities, as require\nelucidation. A metrical index has been added, in which the chief\ndifficulties of scanning are solved. One thing is presumed\nthroughout,--that the student will make a faithful use of his grammar\nand dictionary, the only way in which true scholars are made.\n\nCICERO AND HORACE will be issued about Dec. 1868.\n\nSALLUST AND LIVY, during the following year.\n\nThe unprecedented demand for the first two volumes of this Series during\nthe past few months evidences their adaptation to the actual wants of\nthe recitation room. Testimonials have been received from a large number\nof the most flourishing classical institutions of the country, in which\nthey have already been adopted as text-books, and the Principals of\nhundreds of schools have expressed their intention to commence their\nnext term with these standard works. From every source but a single\nopinion has been expressed, viz.: that the publishers have more than\nfulfilled their promise in presenting a series of books which will be\neagerly sought after by every student of the classics.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA MANUAL OF ELOCUTION.\n\nFounded upon the Philosophy of the Human Voice, with Classified\nIllustrations, Suggested by and Arranged to meet the Practical\nDifficulties of Instruction. By M. S. Mitchell. Price by mail, postpaid,\n$1.50. Per dozen, by express, $13.50.\n\nThe compiler cannot conceal the hope that this glimpse of our general\nliterature may tempt to individual research among its treasures, so\nvaried and inexhaustible;--that this text-book for the school-room may\nbecome not only teacher, but friend, to those in whose hands it is\nplaced, and while aiding, through systematic development and training of\nthe elocutionary powers of the pupil, to overcome many of the practical\ndifficulties of instruction, may accomplish a higher work in the\ncultivation and refinement of character.\n\nTo afford teachers an idea of the character of the work, we append a\nlist of the\n\nSUBJECTS TREATED OF.\n\nArticulation, Pronunciation, Accent, Emphasis, Modulation, Melody of\nSpeech, Pitch, Tone, Inflections, Sense, Cadence, Force, Stress,\nGrammatical and Rhetorical Pauses, Movement, Reading of Poetry, Faults\nin the Reading of Poetry, Action, Attitude, Analysis of the Principles\nof Gestures, and Oratory.\n\nAmong the _gems of literature_ collected in this volume may be named the\nfollowing, which will give a general idea of the character of the\nselections for practice, of which the volume is largely composed.\n\n  A Psalm of Life.\n  Address at Gettysburg.\n  Barbara Frietchie.\n  Bonny Kelmeny.\n  Bugle Song.\n  Charge of the Light Brigade.\n  Death of Little Nell.\n  Dies Irae.\n  Elegy in a Country Churchyard.\n  Excelsior.\n  Godiva.\n  Invocation to Light.\n  Laus Deo.\n  The American Flag.\n  Oh! why should the Spirit of Mortal be Proud?\n  The Battle of Ivry.\n  The Bells.\n  The Bridge of Sighs.\n  The Great Bell Roland.\n  The Mantle of St. John de Matha.\n  The Raven.\n  The Soldier from Bingen.\n  The Song of the Shirt.\n  Union and Liberty.\n  Woman's Education.\n  Work.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE MODEL DEFINER,\n\nwith Sentences showing the Proper Use of Words. An Elementary Work,\ncontaining Definitions and Etymology for the Little Ones. By A. C. Webb.\nPrice by mail, postpaid, 25 cents. Per dozen, by express, $2.16.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE MODEL ETYMOLOGY.\n\nGiving not only the Definitions, Etymology, and Analysis, but that which\ncan be obtained only from an intimate acquaintance with the best\nAuthors, viz.: The Correct Use of Words. By A. C. Webb. Price by mail,\npostpaid, 60 cents. Per dozen, by express, $5.40.\n\nThe importance of words cannot be over-estimated. Knowledge can be\nimparted and received only by the medium of words, correctly used and\nproperly understood. The basis of a good education must be laid with\nwords, well chosen, properly arranged, and firmly implanted in the mind.\nFrom the richness of the English Language, which gives many words to the\nsame meaning, and many and diverse meanings to the same word, the proper\n_use_ of a word cannot be deduced from its _meaning_. How, then, is the\nknowledge of the use of words to be imparted to children? Either by the\nteacher, or by conversation and reading. By the latter method the\nknowledge acquired is limited in extent; and as it is entirely dependent\non the power of observation, the impressions received are faint and\nill-defined, and the conclusions arrived at, frequently incorrect. The\npractice of Arithmetic might possibly be left to such teaching, inasmuch\nas Arithmetic is an exact science based on fixed principles, from which\ncorrect _reasoning_ must deduce correct _results_. But no reasoning can\nshow to the child who has learned \"_Deduce, to draw_,\" that he must not\nsay, \"I tried _to deduce_ the horse from the stable;\" or, \"_Deciduous,\nfalling_.\" \"The boy, _deciduous_ from the window, was killed.\" The\nimportance and difficulty of the work demands that it shall not be left\nto the uncertainties of home teaching. The labor involved forbids that\nthis essential part of education shall be imposed on the parent. Like\nArithmetic, or any other department of knowledge, it should be performed\nby the teacher, in the time specially set apart for mental training. The\nplan adopted in the MODEL WORD-BOOK SERIES is not new. All good\nDictionaries illustrate the meaning by a Model. To quote from a _good\nauthor_, a sentence containing the word, as proof of its correct use, is\nthe only authority allowed. A simple trial of the work either by\nrequiring the child to form sentences similar to those given, or by\nmemorizing the sentences as models for future use, will convince any one\nof the following advantages to be derived from the Model Word-Book\nSeries:\n\n  1. Saving of Time.\n  2. Increased Knowledge of Words.\n  3. Ease to Teacher and Scholar.\n  4. A Knowledge of the Correct Use of Words.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE YOUNG STUDENT'S COMPANION;\n\nor, Elementary Lessons and Exercises in Translating from English into\nFrench. By M. A. Longstreth, Principal of a Seminary for Young Ladies,\nPhiladelphia. Price by mail, postpaid, $1.00. Per dozen, by express,\n$9.00.\n\nThe object of this little work is to present to the young student a\ncondensed view of the elements of the French language, in a clear and\nsimple manner, and, at the same time, to lessen the fatigue incurred by\nthe teacher in giving repeated verbal explanations of the most important\nrules of etymology. No attempt has been made to teach the syntax of the\nlanguage, with the exception of a few fundamental rules; neither have\nmany idioms been introduced; the aim of the compiler being to avoid\nwhatever might perplex or confuse.\n\nThis little work, it will be remembered, is not intended to take the\nplace of a Grammar, but to prepare the pupil, by careful drilling, for\nlarger and more comprehensive treatises; and it is believed that any\nchild, who can distinguish the different parts of speech in English,\nwill be able to understand and learn the lessons without difficulty; and\nthat, if they are thoroughly learned, the succeeding course of French\nstudy will be much facilitated. In its preparation, the best authorities\nhave been carefully consulted and followed, and assistance has been\nkindly furnished by several Professors of the French language, whose\nexperience in teaching enables them to judge of the wants of the young\nstudent.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMARTINDALE'S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES.\n\nFrom the Discovery of America to the close of the late Rebellion. By\nJoseph C. Martindale, M. D., Principal of the Madison Grammar School,\nPhiladelphia. Price by mail, postpaid, 60 cents. Per dozen, by express,\n$5.40.\n\nThe want of a History suitable for the Schoolroom has long been felt by\neducators. In most instances, the Histories presented have been too much\nencumbered with details of but little service to the pupils. This has\nbeen one of the causes which has prevented History from being one of the\nusual branches of study in our Common Schools outside of cities and\ntowns; none can so well appreciate the difficulties which have\nsurrounded this subject as the teacher. Another cause which has\nprecluded the study of History has been the high price of all the\ntext-books on this subject. The very low price of the present treatise\nwill obviate this difficulty. The author of this compend, a man of large\nexperience in the schoolroom, deserves the thanks of teachers and\nscholars, for the concise and succinct form which he has treated this\nmuch neglected subject; ignoring all that does not properly appertain to\nthe important events of our Nation's existence, he has given us all that\nshould be memorized, and in so agreeable a form as to be thoroughly\nmastered with but little effort.\n\nWith this book in his hand, the scholar can in a single school-term\nobtain as complete a knowledge of the History of the United States as\nhas heretofore required double the time and effort.\n\nTeachers who are anxious to have their pupils proficient in this\nsubject, or who are themselves desirous of reviewing the main points of\nHistory in order to pass a creditable examination, will find this _the\nbook for their purposes_, and it will commend itself to the _live\nteacher as a book long needed_. The want of such a work suggested its\npreparation, and we are satisfied that in every schoolroom its advent\nwill be welcomed by both teacher and pupil.\n\nThe unprecedented success which has attended this work since its\npublication is the best recommendation of its merits, more than _Twenty\nThousand Copies_ having been sold during the past year. It is indorsed\nby prominent educators, is used in over fifty Normal Schools, and in\nhundreds of cities, towns, and townships throughout the entire country.\nTeachers, Directors, and all others interested in Elementary Education\nare invited to examine the book.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPARKER'S GRAMMAR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.\n\nBased upon an Analysis of the English Sentence. With copious Examples\nand Exercises in Parsing and the Correction of False Syntax, and an\nAppendix, containing Critical and Explanatory Notes, and Lists of\nPeculiar and Exceptional Forms. For the use of Schools and Academies,\nand those who write. By Wm. Henry Parker, Principal of Ringgold Grammar\nSchool, Philadelphia. Price by mail, postpaid, $1.25.\n\nPrepared by a GRAMMAR SCHOOL PRINCIPAL, and arranged in the manner that\nmany years of research and actual experience in the schoolroom have\ndemonstrated to be the best for teaching, this book commends itself to\nteachers as a simple, progressive, and consistent treatise on Grammar,\nthe need of which has so long been recognized. We ask for it a careful\nand critical examination. The thorough acquaintance of the author with\nhis subject, and his practical knowledge of the difficulties which beset\nthe teacher in the use of the text-book, and the necessity for the\nteacher's supplying deficiencies and omissions and amending the text to\nsuit constructions found daily in parsing, and in other practical\nexercises in Grammar, have enabled him to prepare a work which will, on\ntrial, be found a labor-saving aid to both teacher and pupil.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTO TEACHERS.\n\nThe Publishers desire to call the attention of Teachers to their List of\nSCHOOL ROLL-BOOKS, REGISTERS, GRADE BOOKS, &c. These have been prepared\nby an experienced, practical Teacher, with the view of meeting a very\npressing want of the schoolroom. It is hoped that in their preparation\nmost of the defects usually found in school records have been avoided.\n\nTHE MODEL ROLL-BOOK, NO. 1.\n\nFor the Use of Schools. Containing a Record of Attendance, Punctuality,\nDeportment, Orthography, Reading, Penmanship, Intellectual Arithmetic,\nPractical Arithmetic, Geography, Grammar. Parsing, and History, and\nseveral blanks for special studies not enumerated. Price, $3.50, by\nexpress.\n\nTHE MODEL ROLL-BOOK, NO. 2.\n\nFor the Use of High Schools, Academies, and Seminaries. Containing a\nRecord of all the Studies mentioned in Roll-Book, No. 1, together with\nElocution, Algebra, Geometry, Composition, French, Latin, Philosophy,\nPhysiology, and several blanks for special studies not enumerated.\nPrice, $3.50, by express.\n\nThese Roll-Books are in use in the leading Schools of Boston, New York,\nPhiladelphia, Cincinnati, Chicago, and St. Louis, and very extensively\nin Select and High Schools throughout the country. They will, on\nexamination, be found to be the most complete and practical yet\npublished. All teachers who use them speak of them with unqualified\napproval; once used, they will never be relinquished.\n\nTHE MODEL POCKET REGISTER AND GRADE-BOOK.\n\nA Roll-Book, Register and Record combined.\n\nAdapted to any grade of School, from Primary to College. Handsomely and\ndurably bound in fine Cloth. Price by mail, postpaid, 60 cents. Per\ndozen, by express, $6.00.\n\nProf. E. A. Sheldon, of the New York State Normal School, and author of\n\"Lessons on Objects,\" and \"Elementary Instruction,\" says of this book:\n\n\"Your Model Pocket Register is just the thing every teacher needs. I\nshall never again be without one.\"\n\nTHE MODEL SCHOOL-DIARY.\n\nDesigned as an aid in securing the co-operation of parents. It consists\nof a Record of the Attendance, Deportment, Recitations, &c., of a\nScholar, for every day in the week. At the close of the week it is to be\nsent to the parent or guardian, for his examination and signature.\nTeachers will find in this Diary an article that has long been needed.\nIts low cost will insure its general use. Copies will be mailed to\nteachers for examination, postpaid, on receipt of ten cents. Price per\ndozen, by mail, postpaid, $1.00. Per dozen, by express, 84 cents.\n\nREWARDS OF MERIT.\n\nAs there are many teachers who make use of these incentives to study, we\nhave endeavored to meet the demand, with what success the teacher can\njudge after seeing our specimens. They are printed on the best quality\nof Bristol card, colored in gold, silver, crimson, ultra-marine, and\nemerald, and are executed in the highest style of the lithographic art.\nThey are chaste, ornate, and beautiful, and need but be seen to be\nappreciated. The teacher will, of course, not connect these gems of art\nwith the common colored cards in vogue. Price per set by mail, postpaid,\n35 cents.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Please address the Publishers_,\n\n  ELDREDGE & BROTHER,\n  17 & 19 South Sixth Street,\n  PHILADELPHIA, PA.","title":"In the School-Room: Chapters in the Philosophy of Education","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":75783}