made to the General Assembly of Ohio, in 1837, and to various articles on the subject published, within the last twenty *years, in reviews and periodicals. He dwells, at some length, upon the schools for the instruction of orphans, who, owing to the ravages of war, are very numerous in those countries, and upon schools connected with prisons. A very interesting account is given of the Redemption Institute at Hamburgh, which beautifully illustrates the influence of proper moral training in the reformation of vicious children.

The method of teaching young children upon their first entering a Prussian school, is thus described:

"I entered a classroom of sixty children, of about six years of age. The children were just taking their seats, all smiles and expectation. They had been at school but a few weeks, but long enough to have contracted a love for it. The teacher took his station before them, and after making a playful remark which excited a light titter around the room, and effectually arrested attention, he gave a signal for silence. After waiting a moment, during which every countenance was composed and every noise hushed, he made a prayer consisting of a single sentence, asking that as they had come together to learn, they might be good and dilligent. He then spoke to them of the beautiful day, asked what they knew about the seasons, referred to the different kinds of fruit-trees then in bearing, and questioned them upon the uses of trees in constructing houses, furniture, &c. Frequently he threw in sportive remarks which enlivened the whole school, but without ever producing the slightest symptom of disorder. During this familiar conversation, which lasted about twenty minutes, there was nothing frivolous or trifling in the manner of the teacher; that manner was dignified though playful, and the little jets of laughter which he caused the children occasionally to throw out, were much more favorable to a receptive state of mind than jets of tears. Here I must make a preliminary remark, in regard to the equipments of the scholars and the furniture of the schoolroom. Every child had a slate and pencil, and a little reading book of letters, words, and short sentences. Indeed, I never saw a Prussian or Saxon school,-above an infant school,-in which any child was unprovided with a slate and pencil. By the teacher's desk, and in front of the school, hung a blackboard. The teacher first drew a house upon the blackboard; and here the value of the art of drawing,-a power universally possessed by Prussian teachers,-became manifest. By the side of the drawing and under it, he wrote the word house in the German script hand, and printed it in the German letter With a long pointing rod,-the end being painted white to make it more visible, he ran over the form of the letters,-the children, with their slates before them and their pencils in their hands, looking at the pointing rod and tracing the forms of the letter in the air. In all our good schools, children are first taught to imitate the forms of letters on the slate before they write them on paper; here they were first imitated on the air, then on slates, and subsequently, in older

classes, on paper. The next process was to copy the word 'house,' both in script and in print, on their slates. Then followed the formation of the sounds of the letters of which the word was composed, and the spelling of the word. Here the names of the letters were not given as with us, but only their powers, or the sounds which those letters have in combination. The letter h was first selected and set up in the reading-frame, (the same before described as part of the apparatus of Prussian schools for young children,) and the children, instead of articulating our alphabetic h, (aitch,) merely gave a hard breathing,-such a sound as the letter really has in the word house.' Then the diphthong, au, (the German word for 'house' is spelled 'haus.') was taken and sounded by itself, in the same way. Then the blocks containing h, and au, were brought together, anl the two sounds were combined. Lastly, the letter s was first sounded by itself, then added to the others, and then the whole word was spoken. Sometimes the last letter in a word was first taken and sounded, after that the penultimate, and so on until the word was completed. The responses of the children were sometimes individual, and sometimes simultaneous, according to a signal given by the

master.

In every such school, also, there are printed sheets orcards containing the letters, dipthongs and whole words. The children are taught to sound a dipthong, and then asked in what words that sound occurs. On some of these cards there are words enough to make several short sentences, and when the pupils are a little advanced, the teacher points to several isolated words in succession, which when taken together make a familiar sentence, and thus he gives them an agreeable surprise, and a pleasant initiation into reading.

After the word 'house' was thus completely impressed upon the minds of the children, the teacher drew his pointing rod over the lines which formed the house; and the children imitated him, first in the air, while they were looking at his motions, then on their slates. In their drawings there was of course a great variety as to taste and accuracy; but each seemed pleased with his own, for their first attempts had never been so criticised as to produce discouragement. Several children were then called to the blackboard to draw a house with chalk. After this, the teacher entered into a coversation about houses. The first question was, what kind of a house was that on the blackboard. Then the names of other kinds of houses were given. The materials of which houses are built were mentioned,-stone, brick, wood; the different kinds of wood; nails, and where they were made; lime, and whence it came, &c. &c. When the teacher touched upon points with which the children were supposed to be acquainted, he asked questions; when he passed to subjects beyond their sphere, he gave information, intermingling the whole with lively remarks and pleasant anecdotes.

And here one important particular should not be omitted. In this, as well as in all other schools, a complete answer was always required. For instance, if a teacher asks, 'What are houses made of?' he does not accept the answer, 'of wood' or 'of stone;' but he requires a full, complete, (vollständig) answer;—as, 'a house may be made of wood.' The answer must always contain an intelligible

proposition without reference to the words of the question to complete it. And here also the greatest care is taken that the answer shall always be grammatically correct, have the right termination of all articles, adjectives and nouns, and the right grammatical transpositions according to the idioms and structure of the language. This secures from the beginning, precision in the expression of ideas; and if, as many philosophers suppose, the intellect could never carry forward its processes of argument or investigation to any great extent, without using language as its instrument, then these children, in their primary lessons, are not only led to exercise the intellect, but the instrument is put into their hands by which its operations are facilitated. When the hour had expired, I do not believe there was a child in the room who knew or thought that his play-time had come. No observing person can be at a loss to understand how such a teacher can arrest and retain the attention of his scholars. It must have happened to almost every one, at some time in his life, to be present as a member of a large assembly, when some speaker, in the midst of great uproar and confusion, has arisen to address it. If, in the very commencement of his exordium, he makes what is called a happy hit, which is answered by a response of laughter or applause from those who are near enough to hear it, the attention of the next circle will be aroused. If, then, the speaker makes another felicitous sally of wit or imagination, this circle, too, becomes the willing subject of his power; until, by a succession of flashes whether of genius or of wit, he soon brings the whole audience under his command, and sways it as the sun and moon sway the tide. This is the result of talent, of attainment, and of the successful study both of men and of things; and whoever has a sufficiency of these requisites will be able to command the attention of children, just as a powerful orator commands the attention of men. But the one, no more than the other, is the unbought gift of nature. They are the rewards of application and toil superadded to talent. Now it is obvious that in the single exercise above described, there were the elements of reading, spelling, writing, grammar and drawing, interspersed with anecdotes and not a little general information : and yet there was no excessive variety, nor were any incongruous subjects forcibly brought together. There was nothing to violate the rule of 'one thing at a time."" pp. 117-18-19.

One great point is gained by this mode of teaching young children. The instructor, without making any extraordinary effort to do so, secures and sustains their attention,-hitherto considered one of the most difficult of arts. The subjects of the lesson are such as are calculated to interest and amuse the mind of the little learner. His curiosity is both roused and gratified. What he knows, is elicited by gentle methods; and what he does not know, is imparted, just in proportion to his capacity to receive light. There is some mental exertion required, but nothing excessive. We are aware that there are persons who imagine that all mental

effort is irksome, and that every child will get rid of it if he possibly can. But this is not so. A certain amount of exertion is not only natural, but pleasing to the mind. A propensity to think about something, is inseparable from the very endowment of intellect. The art of the skilful teacher, then, consists in giving to the thoughts a proper direction,in requiring only such an amount of labour to be performed as is proportioned to the learner's capacity to perform it, and in not tasking the faculties till effort produces fatigue and disgust. Nothing valuable in knowledge is ever acquired without labor, but it is healthful and reasonable, not grinding, oppressive and enfeebling labor, that accomplishes great things. Neither the powers of mind nor of body should be overtasked. The radical error in our system of training the minds of children in this country, is, that all kinds of learning are presented in our schools in too repulsive an aspect. The child's lesson is a task, instead of being a pleasing and healthful exercise. His position in school is that of a slave, instead of that of a free being, and his teacher is looked upon rather as an overseer with a lash in his hand, than as a friend who excites his hopes and leads him forward with words of encouragement. We are tired of hearing of improvements in education which we do not see. If any improvement is to be made in our schools, let us commence with reforms that are practical, and consistent with the nature of the human faculties. Let us not be dazzled with splendid projects, while there is any thing radically faulty at the foundation of our systems of education. This idea of learning being a task, is a great mistake, to which our systems of teaching now-a-days, and our teachers themselves, contribute not a little. What is the duty of the teacher? To impart the light. of some kind of truth to the mind, and light, intellectual or moral, is as agreeable to the mind of a child as the light of day is to the eye. to the eye. Why is it, then, that that which should be the source of pleasure produces only pain and disgust? Why does the child turn from his teacher with feelings of aversion and repugnance, as from an enemy? Why look upon the school-house as a prison-house, and upon his books as weights and chains upon the free action of his intellect,-a source of never-ceasing torment? There must be a great fault some where, and it is here:-the teacher does not understand what his duty is, or he does not know how to perform it. He either attempts to do too much for his pupil,

or he does not do enough. He either imparts too much. light and thus dazzles his mental vision, producing pain and misery, or too little to ena le him to see clearly, leaving him to grope about without a guide to direct his steps,-either of which results is equally to be deprecated. The skilful teacher adapts his instructions to the intellectual ability and state of progress of his pupil, and, in doing this, while he developes, invigorates and enlarges his intellectual powers, imparts that pleasure and high gratification which always result from the discovery of truth, whether derived from books or men, or from the exercise of his own faculties engaged in the investigation of it. Such teachers are always regarded by their pupils as friends and benefactors. They look up to them with love, as the dispensers of blessings, instead of regarding them with terror. It may be laid down as an indisputable truth, that no teacher, who is unpopular with his own pupils, is a good instructor. If he is unable to command their respect, love and gratitude by the benefits he confers upon them as moral and thinking beings, he is unworthy and unfit to teach them.

Six or seven pages of Mr. Mann's Report are devoted to a discussion of the Prussian method of teaching children to read without the aid of the alphabet,-as great a novelty in education, and nearly as miraculous an achievement of art,at least so, at first view, it would seem to be,-as teaching the deaf and dumb to speak by the utterance of articulate sounds. The mystery, however, is soon explained by those who are in the secret. The names of the letters are not taught in the Prussian schools, as a step preparatory to reading, but only their power or sound when employed in combination with other letters so as to form words. An illustration is given in the extract above quoted, which is sufficiently explanatory of the process, the only one employed in the Prussian schools for nearly a quarter of a century in teaching to read. Mr. Mann is a convert to its excellence, and his argument in favor of it is curious and ingenious, and for the most part satisfactory. The objections to the old method, are: i. That children are intellectual beings, and that letters mean nothing. The intellect of the child, who is put to learning his letters, is occupied for months in learning sounds that convey no sort of idea to the mind—an unnecessary waste of time expended upon a revolting task, when it might be more advantageously and agreeably spent