A SATIRICAL SPIRIT.

I witnessed, a short time since, a meeting between two friends, who had had but little intercourse before for a long while. I thought a part of their conversation might be useful, and I shall therefore relate it, as nearly as I can recollect, leaving each individual to draw her own inferences.

For some time I sat silent, but not uninterested, while the days of 'Auld Lang Syne' came up to the remembrance of the two friends. After speaking of several individuals who were among their former acquaintances, one asked, 'Do you remember Miss W.? 'Yes,' replied the former, I remember her as the fear, terror, and abhorrence of all who knew her.' I knew the lady by report, and asked why she was so regarded. The reply was, 'Because she was so severe, so satirical in her remarks upon others. She spared neither friend nor foe.'

"The friends resumed their conversation. 'Did you know,' said the one who had first spoken of Miss W., 'that she sometimes had seasons of bitter repentance for indulging in this unhappy propensity of hers? She would, at such times, resolve to be more on her guard, but, after all her good resolutions, she would yield to the slightest temptations. When she was expressing, and apparently really feeling sorrow for having wounded the feelings of others, those who knew her would not venture to express any sympathy, for, very likely, the next moment that would be turned into ridicule. No confidence could be placed in her.'

"A few more facts will be stated respecting the same individual, which I believe are strictly true. Miss W. possessed a fine and well-cultivated mind, great penetration, and a tact at discriminating character rarely equaled. She could, if she chose, impart a charm to her conversation that would interest and even fascinate those who listened to it; still, she was not beloved. Weaknesses and foibles met with unmerciful severity, and well-meaning intentions and kind actions did not always escape without the keen sarcasm which it is so difficult for the best regulated mind to bear unmoved. The mild and gentle seemed to shrink from her; and thus she, who might have been the bright and beloved ornament of the circle in which she moved, was regarded with distrust, fear, and even hatred. This dangerous habit of making satirical remarks was evinced in childhood; it was cherished; it 'grew with her growth, and strengthened with her strength,' until she became what I have described. LAURA."

Though such a satirical spirit is justly condemned, a little good-humored raillery may sometimes be allowed as a mode of attacking faults in school which can not be reached by graver methods. The teacher must not be surprised if some things connected with his own administration come in sometimes for a share.

VARIETY.

"I was walking out a few days since, and not being particularly in haste, I concluded to visit a certain school for an hour or two. In a few minutes after I had seated myself on the sofa, the 'Study Card' was dropped, and the general noise and confusion indicated that recess had arrived. A line of military characters, bearing the title of the 'Freedom's Band,' was soon called out, headed by one of their own number. The tune chosen to guide them was Kendall's March.

"'Please to form a regular line,' said the lady commander. 'Remember that there is to be no speaking in the ranks. Do not begin to step until I strike the bell. Miss B., I requested you not to step until I gave the signal.'

"Presently the command was given, and the whole line stepped for a few minutes to all intents and purposes. Again the bell sounded. 'Some of you have lost the step,' said the general. 'Look at me, and begin again. Left! right! left! right!' The line was once more in order, and I observed a new army on the opposite side of the room, performing the same manoeuvres, always to the tune of 'Kendall's March.' After a time the recess closed, and order was again restored. In about half an hour I approached a class which was reciting behind the railing. 'Miss A.,' said a teacher, 'how many kinds of magnitude are there?' Miss A. (Answer inaudible.) Several voices. 'We can't hear.' Teacher. 'Will you try to speak a little louder, Miss A.?"

"Some of the class at length seemed to guess the meaning of the young lady, but I was unable to do even that until the answer was repeated by the teacher. Finding that I should derive little instruction from the recitation, I returned to the sofa.

"In a short time the propositions were read. 'Proposed, that the committee be impeached for not providing suitable pens.' 'Lost, a pencil, with a piece of India-rubber attached to it by a blue ribbon,' &c., &c.

"Recess was again announced, and the lines commenced their evolutions to the tune of 'Kendall's March.' Thought I, 'Oh that there were a new tune under the sun!'

"Before the close of school some compositions were read. One was entitled 'The Magic King,' and commenced, 'As I was sitting alone last evening, I heard a gentle tap on the door, and immediately a beautiful fairy appeared before me. She placed a ring on my finger, and left me.' The next began, 'It is my week to write composition, but I do not know what to say. However, I must write something, so it shall be a dialogue.' Another was entitled the 'Magical Shoe,' and contained a marvelous narration of adventures made in a pair of shoes more valuable than the far-famed 'seven-league boots.' A fourth began, 'Are you acquainted with that new scholar?' 'No; but I don't believe I shall like her.' And soon the 'Magical Thimble,' the 'Magical Eye-glass,' &c., were read in succession, until I could not but exclaim, 'How pleasing is variety!' School was at length closed, and the young ladies again attacked the piano. 'Oh,' repeated I to myself, 'how pleasing is variety! as I left the room to the tune of Kendall's March."

By means like these, and others similar to them, it will not be difficult for any teacher to obtain so far an ascendency over the minds of his pupils as to secure an overwhelming majority in favor of good order and co-operation with him in his plans for elevating the character of the school. But let it be distinctly understood that this, and this only, has been the object of this chapter thus far. The first point brought up was the desirableness of making at first a favorable impression; the second, the necessity of taking general views of the condition of the school, and aiming to improve it in the mass, and not merely to rebuke or punish accidental faults; and the third, the importance and the means of gaining a general influence and ascendency over the minds of the pupils. But, though an overwhelming majority can be reached by such methods as these, all can not. We must have the majority secured, however, in order to enable us to reach and to reduce the others. But to this work we must come at last.

4. I am, therefore, now to consider, under a fourth general head, what course is to be taken with individual offenders whom the general influences of the school-room will not control.

The teacher must always expect that there will be such cases. They are always to be found in the best and most skillfully-managed schools. The following suggestions will perhaps assist the teacher in dealing with them.

(1.) The first point to be attended to is to ascertain who they are. Not by appearing suspiciously to watch any individuals, for this would be almost sufficient to make them bad, if they were not so before. Observe, however; notice, from day to day, the conduct of individuals, not for the purpose of reproving or punishing their faults, but to enable you to understand their characters. This work will often require great adroitness and very close scrutiny, and you will find, as the results of it, a considerable variety of character, which the general influences above described will not be sufficient to control. The number of individuals will not be great, but the diversity of character comprised in it will be such as to call into exercise all your powers of vigilance and discrimination. On one seat you will find a coarse, rough-looking boy, who openly disobeys your commands and opposes your wishes while in school, and makes himself a continual source of trouble and annoyance during play-hours by bullying and hectoring every gentle and timid schoolmate. On another sits a more sly rogue, whose demure and submissive look is assumed to conceal a mischief-making disposition. Here is one whose giddy spirit is always leading him into difficulty, but who is of so open and frank a disposition that you will most easily lead him back to duty; but there is another who, when reproved, will fly into a passion; and then a third, who will stand sullen and silent before you when he has done wrong, and is not to be touched by kindness nor awed by authority.

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Now all these characters must be studied. It is true that the caution given in a preceding part of this chapter, against devoting undue and disproportionate attention to such persons, must not be forgotten. Still, these individuals will require, and it is right that they should receive, a far greater degree of attention, so far as the moral administration of the school is concerned, than their mere numbers would appear to justify. This is the field in which the teacher is to study human nature, for here it shows itself without disguise. It is through this class, too, that a very powerful moral influence is to be exerted upon the rest of the school. The manner in which such individuals are managed, the tone the teacher assumes toward them, the gentleness with which he speaks of their faults, and the unbending decision with which he restrains them from wrong, will have a most powerful effect upon the rest of the school. That he may occupy this field, therefore, to the best advantage, it is necessary that he should first thoroughly explore it.

By understanding the dispositions and characters of such a class of pupils as I have described, I do not mean merely watching them with vigilance in school, so that none of their transgressions shall go unobserved and unpunished. I intend a far deeper and more thorough examination of character. Every boy has something or other which is good in his disposition and character which he is aware of, and on which he prides himself; find out what it is, for it may often be made the foundation on which you may build the superstructure of reform. Every one has his peculiar sources of enjoyment and objects of pursuit, which are before his mind from day to day. Find out what they are, that by taking an interest in what interests him, and perhaps sometimes assisting him in his plans, you can bind him to you. Every boy is, from the circumstances in which he is placed at home, exposed to temptations which have perhaps had far greater influence in the formation of his character than any deliberate and intentional depravity of his own; ascertain what these temptations are, that you may know where to pity him and where to blame. The knowledge which such an examination of character will give you, will not be confined to making you acquainted with the individual. It will be the most valuable knowledge which a man can possess, both to assist him in the general administration of the school and in his intercourse among mankind in the business of life. Men are but boys, only with somewhat loftier objects of pursuit. Their principles, motives, and ruling passions are essentially the same. Extended commercial speculations are, so far as the human heart is concerned, substantially what trading in jack-knives and toys is at school, and building a snow fort, to its own architects, the same as erecting a monument of marble.

(2.) After exploring the ground, the first thing to be done as a preparation for reforming individual character in school is to secure the personal attachment of the individuals to be reformed. This must not be attempted by professions and affected smiles, and still less by that sort of obsequiousness, common in such cases, which produces no effect but to make the bad boy suppose that his teacher is afraid of him; which, by the way, is, in fact, in such cases, usually true. Approach the pupil in a bold and manly, but frank and pleasant manner. Approach him as his superior, but still as his friend; desirous to make him happy, not merely to obtain his good-will. And the best way to secure these appearances is just to secure the reality. Actually be the boy's friend. Really desire to make him happy—happy, too, in his own way, not in yours. Feel that you are his superior, and that you must and will enforce obedience; but with this, feel that probably obedience will be rendered without any contest. If these are really the feelings which reign within you, the boy will see it, and they will exert a strong influence over him; but you can not counterfeit appearances.

A most effectual way to secure the good-will of a scholar is to ask him to assist you. The Creator has so formed the human heart that doing good must be a source of pleasure, and he who tastes this pleasure once will almost always wish to taste it again. To do good to any individual creates or increases the desire to do it.

There is a boy in your school who is famous for his skill in making whistles from the green branches of the poplar. He is a bad boy, and likes to turn his ingenuity to purposes of mischief. You observe him some day in school, when he thinks your attention is engaged in another way, blowing softly upon one which he has concealed in his desk for the purpose of amusing his neighbors without attracting the attention of the teacher. Now there are two remedies. Will you try the physical one? Then call him out into the floor, inflict painful punishment, and send him smarting to his seat, with his heart full of anger and revenge, to plot some new and less dangerous scheme of annoyance. Will you try the moral one? Then wait till the recess, and while he is out at his play, send a message out by another boy, saying that you have heard he is very skillful in making whistles, and asking him to make one for you to carry home to a little child at your boarding-house. What would, in ordinary cases, be the effect? It would certainly be a very simple application, but its effect would be to open an entirely new train of thought and feeling for the boy. "What!" he would say to himself, while at work on his task, "give the master pleasure by making whistles! Who would have conceived of it? I never thought of any thing but giving him trouble and pain. I wonder who told him I could make whistles?" He would find, too, that the new enjoyment was far higher and purer than the old, and would have little disposition to return to the latter.

I do not mean by this illustration that such a measure as this would be the only notice that ought to be taken of such an act of willful disturbance in school. Probably it would not. What measures in direct reference to the fault committed would be necessary would depend upon the circumstances of the case. It is not necessary to our purpose that they should be described here.

The teacher can awaken in the hearts of his pupils a personal attachment for him by asking in various ways their assistance in school, and then appearing honestly gratified with the assistance rendered. Boys and girls are delighted to have what powers and attainments they possess brought out into action, especially where they can lead to useful results. They love to be of some consequence in the world, and will be especially gratified to be able to assist their teacher. Even if the studies of a turbulent boy are occasionally interrupted for half an hour, that he might help you arrange papers, or rule books, or distribute exercises, it will be time well spent. Get him to co-operate with you in any thing, and he will feel how much more pleasant it is to co-operate than to thwart and oppose; and, by judicious measures of this kind, almost any boy may be brought over to your side.

Another means of securing the personal attachment of boys is to notice them, to take an interest in their pursuits, and the qualities and powers which they value in one another. It is astonishing what an influence is exerted by such little circumstances as stopping at a play-ground a moment to notice with interest, though perhaps without saying a word, speed of running, or exactness of aim, the force with which a ball is struck, or the dexterity with which it is caught or thrown. The teacher must, indeed, in all his intercourse with his pupils, never forget his station, nor allow them to lay aside the respect, without which authority can not be maintained. But he may be, notwithstanding this, on the most intimate and familiar footing with them all. He may take a strong and open interest in all their enjoyments, and thus awaken on their part a personal attachment to himself, which will exert over them a constant and powerful control.

(3.) The efforts described under the last head for gaining a personal influence over those who, from their disposition and character, are most in danger of doing wrong, will not be sufficient entirely to prevent transgression. Cases of deliberate, intentional wrong will occur, and the question will rise, What is the duty of the teacher in such an emergency? When such cases occur, the course to be taken is, first of all, to come to a distinct understanding on the subject with the guilty individual. Think of the case calmly, until you have obtained just and clear ideas of it. Endeavor to understand precisely in what the guilt of it consists. Notice every palliating circumstance, and take as favorable a view of the thing as you can, while, at the same time, you fix most firmly in your mind the determination to put a stop to it. Then go to the individual, and lay the subject before him, for the purpose of understanding distinctly from his own lips what he intends to do. I can, however, as usual, explain more fully what I mean by describing a particular case, substantially true.

The teacher of a school observed himself, and learned from several quarters, that a certain boy was in the habit of causing disturbance during time of prayer, at the opening and close of school, by whispering, playing, making gestures to the other boys, and throwing things about from seat to seat. The teacher's first step was to speak of the subject generally before the whole school, not alluding, however, to any particular instance which had come under his notice. These general remarks produced, as he expected, but little effect.

He waited for some days, and the difficulty still continued. Had the irregularity been very great, it would have been necessary to have taken more immediate measures, but he thought the case admitted of a little delay. In the mean time, he took pains to cultivate the acquaintance of the boy, to discover, and to show that he noticed, what was good in his character and conduct, occasionally to ask some assistance from him, and thus to gain some personal ascendency over him.

One day, when every thing had gone smoothly and prosperously, the teacher told the boy, at the close of the school, that he wished to talk with him a little, and asked him to walk home with him. It was not uncommon for the teacher to associate thus with his pupils out of school, and this request, accordingly, attracted no special attention. On the walk the teacher thus accosted the criminal:

"Do you like frank, open dealing, James?"

James hesitated a moment, and then answered, faintly,

"Yes, sir."

"Most boys do, and I do, and I supposed that you would prefer being treated in that way. Do you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I am going to tell you of one of your faults. I have asked you to walk with me, because I supposed it would be more agreeable for you to have me see you privately than to bring it up in school."

James said it would be more agreeable.

"Well, the fault is being disorderly at prayer-time. Now, if you like frank and open dealing, and are willing to deal so with me, I should like to talk with you a little about it, but if you are not willing, I will dismiss the subject. I do not wish to talk with you now about it unless you yourself desire it; but if we talk at all, we must both be open, and honest, and sincere. Now, should you rather have me talk with you or not?"

"Yes, sir, I should rather have you talk with me now than in school."

The teacher then described his conduct in a mild manner, using the style of simple narration, admitting no harsh epithets, no terms of reproach. The boy was surprised, for he supposed that he had not been noticed. He thought, perhaps, that he should have been punished if he had been observed. The teacher said, in conclusion,

"Now, James, I do not suppose you have done this from any designed irreverence toward God, or deliberate intention of giving me trouble and pain. You have several times lately assisted me in various ways, and I know, from the cheerful manner with which you comply with my wishes, that your prevailing desire is to give me pleasure, not pain. You have fallen into this practice through thoughtlessness, but that does not alter the character of the sin. To do so is a great sin against God, and a great offense against good order in school. You see, yourself, that my duty to the school will require me to adopt the most decided measures to prevent the continuance and the spread of such a practice. I should be imperiously bound to do it, even if the individual was the very best friend I had in school, and if the measures necessary should bring upon him great disgrace and suffering. Do you not think it would be so?"

"Yes, sir," said James, seriously, "I suppose it would."

"I wish to remove the evil, however, in the pleasantest way. Do you remember my speaking on this subject in school the other day?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, my object in what I said then was almost entirely to persuade you to reform without having to speak to you directly. I thought it would be pleasanter to you to be reminded of your duty in that way. But I do not think it did you much good. Did it?"

"I don't think I have played so much since then."

"Nor I. You have improved a little, but you have not decidedly and thoroughly reformed. So I was obliged to take the next step which would be least unpleasant to you, that is, talking with you alone. Now you told me when we began that you would deal honestly and sincerely with me, if I would with you. I have been honest and open. I have told you all about it so far as I am concerned. Now I wish you to be honest, and tell me what you are going to do. If you think, from this conversation, that you have done wrong, and if you are fully determined to do so no more, and to break off at once, and forever, from this practice, I should like to have you tell me, and then the whole thing will be settled. On the other hand, if you feel about it pretty much as you have done, I should like to have you tell me that too, honestly and frankly, that we may have a distinct understanding, and that I may be considering what to do next. I shall not be offended with you for giving me either of these answers, but be sure that you are honest; you promised to be so."

The boy looked up in his master's face, and said, with great earnestness,

"Mr T. I will do better. I will not trouble you any more."

I have detailed this case thus particularly because it exhibits clearly what I mean by going directly and frankly to the individual, and coming at once to a full understanding. In nine cases out of ten this course will be effectual. For four years, with a very large school, I found this sufficient in every case of discipline which occurred, except in three or four instances, where something more was required. To make it successful, however, the work must be done properly. Several things are necessary. It must be deliberate; generally better after a little delay. It must be indulgent, so far as the view which the teacher takes of the guilt of the pupil is concerned; every palliating consideration must be felt. It must be firm and decided in regard to the necessity of a change, and the determination of the teacher to effect it. It must also be open and frank; no insinuations, no hints, no surmises, but plain, honest, open dealing.

In many cases the communication may be made most delicately and most successfully in writing. The more delicately you touch the feelings of your pupils, the more tender these feelings will become. Many a teacher hardens and stupefies the moral sense of his pupils by the harsh and rough exposures to which he drags out the private feelings of the heart. A man may easily produce such a state of feeling in his schoolroom, that to address even the gentlest reproof to any individual, in the hearing of the next, would be a most severe punishment; and, on the other hand, he may so destroy that sensitiveness that his vociferated reproaches will be as unheeded as the idle wind.

If, now, the teacher has taken the course recommended in this chapter—if he has, by his general influence in the school, done all in his power to bring the majority of his pupils to the side of order and discipline—if he has then studied, attentively and impartially, the characters of those who can not thus be led—if he has endeavored to make them his friends, and to acquire, by every means, a personal influence over them—if, finally, when they do wrong, he goes plainly, but in a gentle and delicate manner, to them, and lays before them the whole case—if he has done all this, he has gone as far as moral influence will carry him. My opinion is, that this course, faithfully and judiciously pursued, will, in almost all instances, succeed; but it will not in all; and where it fails, there must be other, and more vigorous and decided measures. What these measures of restraint or punishment shall be must depend upon the circumstances of the case; but in resorting to them, the teacher must be decided and unbending.

The course above recommended is not trying lax and inefficient measures for a long time in hopes of their being ultimately successful, and then, when they are found not to be so, changing the policy. There should be, through the whole, the tone and manner of authority, not of persuasion. The teacher must be a monarch, and, while he is gentle and forbearing, always looking on the favorable side of conduct so far as guilt is concerned; he must have an eagle eye and an efficient hand, so far as relates to arresting the evil and stopping the consequences. He may slowly and cautiously, and even tenderly, approach a delinquent. He may be several days in gathering around him the circumstances of which he is ultimately to avail himself in bringing him to submission; but, while he proceeds thus slowly and tenderly, he must come with the air of authority and power. The fact that the teacher bases all his plans on the idea of his ultimate authority in every case may be perfectly evident to all the pupils, while he proceeds with moderation and gentleness in all his specific measures. Let it be seen, then, that the constitution of your school is a monarchy, absolute and unlimited; but let it also be seen that the one who holds the power is himself under the control of moral principle in all that he does, and that he endeavors to make the same moral principle which guides him go as far as it is possible to make it go in the government of his subjects.

CHAPTER V.

So much ground, it seems, the teacher may occupy, by common consent, in this country, and it certainly is a great deal. It may be doubted whether, after all our disputes, there is a country in the world whose inhabitants have so much in common in regard to religious belief. There is, perhaps, no country in the world where the teacher may be allowed to do so much toward leading his pupils to fear God and to obey his commands, with the cordial consent of parents, as he can here.[3]

The ground which I have been laying out is common all over our country; in particular places there will be even much more that is common. Of course the teacher, in such cases, will be at much greater liberty. If a Roman Catholic community establish a school, and appoint a Roman Catholic teacher, he may properly, in his intercourse with his scholars, allude, with commendation, to the opinions and practices of that church. If a college is established by the Methodist denomination, the teacher of that institution may, of course, explain and enforce there the views of that society. Each teacher is confined only to those views which are common to the founders and supporters of the particular institution to which he is attached.

I trust the principle which I have been attempting to enforce is fully before the reader's mind, namely, that moral and religious instruction in a school being in a great degree extra-official in its nature, must be carried no farther than the teacher can go with the common consent, either expressed or implied, of those who have founded, and who support his school. Of course, if those founders forbid it altogether, they have a right to do so, and the teacher must submit. The only question that can justly arise is whether he will remain in such a situation, or go and seek employment where a door of usefulness, here closed against him, will be opened. While he remains, he must honestly and fully submit to the wishes of those in whose hands Providence has placed the ultimate responsibility of training up the children of his school. It is only for a partial and specific purpose that they are placed under his care.

The religious reader may inquire why I am so anxious to restrain, rather than to urge on, the exercise of religious influence in schools. "There is far too little," some one will say, "instead of too much, and teachers need to be encouraged and led on in this duty, not to be restrained from it." There is, indeed, far too little religious influence exerted in common schools. What I have said has been intended to prepare the way for an increase of it. My view of it is this:

If teachers do universally confine themselves to the limits which I have been attempting to define, they may accomplish within these limits a vast amount of good. By attempting, however, to exceed them, the confidence of parents is destroyed or weakened, and the door is closed. In this way, injury to a very great extent has been done in many parts of our country. Parents are led to associate with the very idea of religion, indirect and perhaps secret efforts to influence their children in a way which they themselves would disapprove. They transfer to the cause of piety itself the dislike which was first awakened by exceptionable means to promote it; and other teachers, seeing these evil effects, are deterred from attempting what they might easily have accomplished. Before, therefore, attempting to enforce the duty and to explain the methods of exerting religious influence in school, I thought proper distinctly to state with what restrictions and within what limits the work is to be done.

There are many teachers who profess to cherish the spirit and to entertain the hopes of piety, who yet make no effort whatever to extend its influence to the hearts of their pupils. Others appeal sometimes to religious truth merely to assist them in the government of the school. They perhaps bring it before the minds of disobedient pupils in a vain effort to make an impression upon the conscience of one who has done wrong, and who can not by other means be brought to submission. But the pupil in such cases understands, or at least he believes, that the teacher applies to religious truth only to eke out his own authority, and of course it produces no effect. Another teacher thinks he must, to discharge his duty, give a certain amount, weekly, of what he considers religious instruction. Pie accordingly appropriates a regular portion of time to a formal lecture or exhortation, which he delivers without regard to the mental habits of thought and feeling which prevail among his charge. He forgets that the heart must be led, not driven to piety, and that unless his efforts are adapted to the nature of the minds he is acting upon, and suited to influence them, he must as certainly fail of success as when there is a want of adaptedness between the means and the end in any other undertaking whatever.

The arrangement which seems to me as well calculated as any for the religious exercises of a school is this:

1. In the morning, open the school with a very short prayer, resembling in its object and length the opening prayer in the morning at Congregational churches. The posture which, from some considerable experience, I would recommend at this exercise, is sitting with the head reclined upon the desk. The prayer, besides being short, should be simple in its language and specific in its petitions. A degree of particularity and familiarity which would be improper elsewhere is not only allowable here, but necessary to the production of the proper effect. That the reader may understand to what extent I mean to be understood to recommend this, I will subjoin a form, such as in spirit I suppose such a prayer ought to be.

"Our Father in Heaven, who hast kindly preserved the pupils and the teacher of this school during the past night, come and grant us a continuance of thy protection and blessing during this day. We can not spend the day prosperously and happily without thee. Come, then, and, be in this school-room during this day, and help us all to be faithful and successful in duty.

"Guide the teacher in all that he may do. Give him wisdom, and patience, and faithfulness. May he treat all his pupils with kindness; and if any of them should do any thing that is wrong, wilt thou help him, gently but firmly, to endeavor to bring him back to duty. May he sympathize with the difficulties and trials of all, and promote the present happiness as well as the intellectual progress of all who are committed to his care.

"Take care of the pupils too. May they spend the day pleasantly and happily together. Wilt thou, who didst originally give us all our powers, direct and assist us all, this day, in the use and improvement of them. Remove difficulties from our path, and give us all fidelity and patience in every duty. Let no one of us destroy our peace and happiness this day by breaking any of thy commands, or encouraging our companions in sins, or neglecting, in any respect, our duty. We ask all in the name of our great Redeemer. Amen."

Of course the prayer of each day will be varied, unless in special cases the teacher prefers to read some form like the above. But let every one be minute and particular, relating especially to school—to school temptations, and trials, and difficulties. Let every one be filled with expressions relating to school, so that it will bear upon every sentence the impression that it is the petition of a teacher and his pupils at the throne of grace.

2. If the pupils can sing, there may be a single verse, or sometimes two verses, of some well-known hymn sung after the prayer at the opening of the school. Teachers will find it much easier to introduce this practice than it would at first be supposed. In almost every school there are enough who can sing to begin, especially if the first experiment is made in a recess, or before or after school; and the beginning once made, the difficulty is over. If but few tunes are sung, a very large proportion of the scholars will soon learn them.

3. Let there be no other regular exercise until the close of the afternoon school. When that hour has arrived, let the teacher devote a very short period, five minutes perhaps, to religious instruction, given in various ways. At one time he may explain and illustrate some important truth. At another, read and comment upon a very short portion of Scripture. At another, relate an anecdote or fact which will tend to interest the scholars in the performance of duty. The teacher should be very careful not to imitate on these occasions the formal style of exhortation from the pulpit. Let him use no cant and hackneyed phrases, and never approach the subject of personal piety, or speak of such feelings as penitence for sin, trust in God, and love for the Savior, unless his own heart is really at the time warmed by the emotions which he wishes to awaken in others. Children very easily detect hypocrisy. They know very well when a parent or teacher is talking to them on religious subjects merely as a matter of course for the sake of effect, and such constrained and formal efforts never do any good.

Let, then, every thing which you do in reference to this subject be done with proper regard to the character and condition of the youthful mind, and in such a way as shall be calculated to interest as well as to instruct. A cold and formal exhortation, or even an apparently earnest one, delivered in a tone of affected solemnity, will produce no good effect. Perhaps I ought not to say it will produce no good effect, for good does sometimes result as a sort of accidental consequence from almost any thing. I mean it will have no effectual tendency to do good. You must vary your method, too, in order to interest your pupils. Watch their countenances when you are addressing them, and see if they look interested. If they do not, be assured that there is something wrong, or at least something ill-judged or inefficient in your manner of explaining the truths which you wish to have produce an effect upon their minds.

That you may be prepared to bring moral and religious truths before their minds in the way I have described, your own mind must take a strong interest in this class of truths. You must habituate yourself to look at the moral and religious aspects and relations of all that you see and hear. When you are reading, notice such facts and remember such narratives as you can turn to good account in this way. In the same way, treasure up in your mind such occurrences as may come under your own personal observation when traveling, or when mixing with society.

That the spirit and manner of these religious exercises may be the more distinctly understood, I will give some examples.

Let us suppose, then, that the hour for closing school has come. The books are laid aside; the room is still; the boys expect the few words which the teacher is accustomed to address to them, and, looking up to him, they listen to hear what he has to say.

"You may take your Bibles."

The boys, by a simultaneous movement, open their desks, and take from them their copies of the sacred volume.

"What is the first book of the New Testament?"

"Matthew," they all answer at once.

"The second?" "Mark." "The third?" "Luke." "The next?" "John." "The next?" "The Acts." "The next?"

Many answer, "Romans."

"The next?"

A few voices say faintly, and with hesitation, "First of Corinthians."

"I perceive your answers become fainter and fainter. Do you know what is the last book of the New Testament?"

The boys answer promptly, "Revelations."

"Do you know what books are between the Acts and the book of Revelation?"

Some say "No, sir;" some begin to enumerate such books as occur to them, and some, perhaps, begin to name them promptly and in their regular order.

"I do not mean," interrupts the teacher, "the names of the books, but the kinds of books."

The boys hesitate.

"They are epistles or letters. Do you know who wrote the letters?"

"Paul," "Peter," answer many voices at once.

"Yes, there were several writers. Now the point which I wish to bring before you is this; do you know in what order, I mean on what principles, the books are arranged?"

"No, sir," is the universal reply.

I will tell you. First come all Paul's epistles. If you turn over the leaves of the Testament, you will see that Paul's letters are all put together after the book of the Acts; and what I wish you to notice is, that they are arranged in the order of their length. The longest comes first, and then the next, and so on to the shortest, which is the epistle to Philemon. This, of course, comes last—no, I am wrong in saying it is the last of Paul's epistles; there is one more to the Hebrews; and this comes after all the others, for there has been a good deal of dispute whether it was really written by Paul. You will see that his name is not at the beginning of it, as it is in his other epistles: so it was put last.

Then comes the Epistle of James. Will you see whether it is longer than any that come after it? The boys, after a minute's examination, answer, "Yes, sir;" "Yes, sir."

"What comes next?"

"The epistles of Peter."

"Yes; and you will see that the longest of Peter's epistles is next in length to that of James's; and, indeed, all his are arranged in the order of their length."

"Yes, sir."

"What comes next?"

"John's."

"Yes; and they are arranged in the order of their length. Do you now understand the principle of the arrangement of the epistles?"

"Yes, sir."

"I should like to have any of you who are interested in it to try to express this principle in a few sentences, on paper, and lay it on my desk to-morrow, and I will read what you write. You will find it very difficult to express it. Now you may lay aside your books. It will be pleasanter for you if you do it silently."

Intelligent children will be interested even in so simple a point as this—much more interested than a maturer mind, unacquainted with the peculiarities of children, would suppose. By bringing up from time to time some such literary inquiry as this, they will be led insensibly to regard the Bible as opening a field for interesting intellectual research, and will more easily be led to study it.

At another time the teacher spends his five minutes in aiming to accomplish a very different object. I will suppose it to be one of those afternoons when all has gone smoothly and pleasantly in school. There has been nothing to excite strong interest or emotion; and there has been (as every teacher knows there sometimes will be), without any assignable cause which he can perceive, a calm, and quiet, and happy spirit diffused over the minds and countenances of the little assembly. His evening communication should accord with this feeling, and he should make it the occasion to promote those pure and hallowed emotions in which every immortal mind must find its happiness, if it is to enjoy any worth possessing.

When all is still, the teacher addresses his pupils as follows:

"I have nothing but a simple story to tell you to-night. It is true, and the fact interested me very much when I witnessed it, but I do not know that it will interest you now merely to hear it repeated. It is this:

"Last vacation, I was traveling in a remote and thinly-settled country, among the mountains, in another state. I was riding with a gentleman on an almost unfrequented road. Forests were all around us, and the houses were small and very few.

"At length, as we were passing an humble and solitary dwelling, the gentleman said to me, 'There is a young woman sick in this house; should you like to go in and see her?' 'Yes, sir,' said I, 'very much. She can have very few visitors, I think, in this lonely place, and if you think she would like to see us, I should like to go.'

"We turned our horses toward the door, and as we were riding up, I asked what was the matter with the young woman.

"'Consumption,' the gentleman replied; 'and I suppose she will not live long.'

"At that moment we dismounted and entered the house. It was a very pleasant summer afternoon, and the door was open. We entered, and were received by an elderly lady, who seemed glad to see us. In one corner of the room was a bed, on which was lying the patient whom we had come to visit. She was pale and thin in her countenance, but there was a very calm and happy expression beaming in her eye. I went up to her bedside, and asked her how she did.

"I talked with her some time, and found that she was a Christian. She did not seem to know whether she would get well again or not, and, in fact, she did not appear to care much about it. She was evidently happy then, and she believed that she should continue so. She had been penitent for her sins, and had sought and obtained forgiveness, and enjoyed, in her loneliness, not only the protection of God, but also his presence in her heart, diffusing peace and happiness there. When I came into the house, I said to myself, 'I pity, I am sure, a person who is confined by sickness in this lonely place, with nothing to interest or amuse her;' but when I came out, I said to myself, 'I do not pity her at all.'"

Never destroy the effect of such a communication as this by attempting to follow it up with an exhortation, or with general remarks, vainly attempting to strengthen the impression.

Never, do I say? Perhaps there may be some exceptions. But children are not reached by formal exhortations; their hearts are touched and affected in other ways. Sometimes you must reprove, sometimes you must condemn; but indiscriminate and perpetual harangues about the guilt of impenitence, and earnest entreaties to begin a life of piety, only harden the hearts they are intended to soften, and consequently confirm those who hear them in the habits of sin.

In the same way a multitude of other subjects, infinite in number and variety, may be brought before your pupils at stated seasons for religious instruction. It is unnecessary to give any more particular examples, but still it may not be amiss to suggest a few general principles, which ought to guide those who are addressing the young on every subject, and especially on the subject of religion.

1. Make no effort to simplify language when addressing the young. Children always observe this, and are always displeased with it, unless they are very young; and it is not necessary. They can understand ordinary language well enough, if the subject is within their comprehension, and treated in a manner adapted to their powers. If you doubt whether children can understand language, tell such a story as this, with ardor of tone and proper gesticulation, to a child only two or three years old:

"I saw an enormous dog in the street the other day. He was sauntering along slowly, until he saw a huge piece of meat lying down on the ground. He grasped it instantly between his teeth, and ran away with all speed, until he disappeared around a corner so that I could see him no more."

In such a description there is a large number of words which such a child would not understand if they stood alone, but the whole description would be perfectly intelligible. The reason is, the subject is simple; the facts are such as a very little child would be interested in; and the connection of each new word, in almost every instance, explains its meaning. That is the way by which children learn all language. They learn the meaning of words, not by definitions, but by their connection in the sentences in which they hear them; and, by long practice, they acquire an astonishing facility of doing this. It is true they sometimes mistake, but not often, and the teacher of children of almost any age need not be afraid that he shall not be understood. There is no danger from his using the language of men, if his subject, and the manner in which he treats it, and the form and structure of his sentences, are what they ought to be. Of course there may be cases, in fact there often will be cases, where particular words will require special explanation, but they will be comparatively few, and instead of making efforts to avoid them, it will be better to let them come. The pupils will be interested and profited by the explanation.

Perhaps some may ask what harm it will do to simplify language when talking to children. "It certainly can do no injury," they may say, "and it diminishes all possibility of being misunderstood." It does injury in at least three ways:

(1.) It disgusts the young persons to whom it is addressed, and prevents their being interested in what is said. I once met two children, twelve years of age, who had just returned from hearing a very able discourse, delivered before a number of Sabbath-schools assembled on some public occasion. "How did you like the discourse?" said I.

"Very well indeed," they replied; "only," said one of them, smiling, "he talked to us as if we were all little children."

Girls and boys, however young, never consider themselves little children, for they can always look down upon some younger than themselves. They are mortified when treated as though they could not understand what is really within the reach of their faculties. They do not like to have their powers underrated, and they are right in this feeling. It is common to all, old and young.

(2.) Children are kept back in learning language if their teacher makes effort to come down, as it is called, to their comprehension in the use of words. Notice that I say in the use of words; for, as I shall show presently, it is absolutely necessary to come down to the comprehension of children in some other respects. If, however, in the use of words, those who address children confine themselves to such words as children already understand, how are they to make progress in that most important of all studies, the knowledge of language? Many a mother keeps back her child, in this way, to a degree that is hardly conceivable, thus doing all in her power to perpetuate in the child an ignorance of its mother tongue.

Teachers ought to make constant efforts to increase their scholars' stock of words by using new ones from time to time, taking care to explain them when the connection does not do it for them; so that, instead of coming down to the language of childhood, they ought rather to go as far away from it as they can, without leaving their pupils behind them.

(3.) But perhaps the greatest evil of this practice is, it satisfies the teacher. He thinks he addresses his pupils in the right manner, and overlooks altogether the real peculiarities in which the power to interest the young depends. He talks to them in simple language, and wonders why they are not interested. He certainly is plain enough. He is vexed with them for not attending to what he says, attributing it to their dullness or regardlessness of all that is useful or good, instead of perceiving that the great difficulty is his own want of skill. These three evils are sufficient to deter the teacher from the practice.

2. Present your subject, not in its general views, but in its minute details. This is the great secret of interesting the young. Present it in its details and in its practical exemplifications; do this with any subject whatever, and children will always be interested.

To illustrate this, let us suppose two teachers wishing to explain to their pupils the same subject, and taking the following opposite methods of doing it. One, at the close of school, addresses his charge as follows:

"The moral character of any action, that is, whether it is right or wrong, depends upon the motives with which it is performed. Men look only at the outward conduct, but God looks at the heart. In order, now, that any action should be pleasing to God, it is necessary it should be performed from the motive of a desire to please him.

"Now there are a great many other motives of action which prevail among mankind besides this right one. There is love of praise, love of money, affection for friends, and many others."

By the time the teacher has proceeded thus far, he finds, as he looks around the room, that the countenances of his pupils are assuming a listless and inattentive air. One is restless in his seat, evidently paying no attention. Another has reclined his head upon his desk, lost in a reverie, and others are looking round the room at one another, or at the door, restless and impatient, hoping that the dull lecture will soon be over.

The other teacher says:

"I have thought of an experiment I might try, which would illustrate to you a very important subject. Suppose I should call one of the boys, A, to me, and should say to him, 'I wish you to go to your seat, and transcribe a piece of poetry as handsomely as you can. If it is written as well as you can possibly write it, I will give you a quarter of a dollar. Suppose I say this to him privately, so that none of the rest of the boys can hear, and he goes to take his seat and begins to work. You perceive that I have presented to him a motive to exertion."

"Yes, sir," say the boys, all looking with interest at the teacher, wondering how this experiment is going to end.

"Well, what would that motive be?"

"Money." "The quarter of a dollar." "Love of money," or perhaps other answers, are heard from the various parts of the room.

"Yes, love of money it is called. Now suppose I should call another boy, one with whom I was particularly acquainted, and who I should know would make an effort to please me, and should say to him, 'For a particular reason, I want you to copy this poetry'—giving him the same—'I wish you to copy it handsomely, for I wish to send it away, and have not time to copy it myself. Can you do it for me?'

"Suppose the boy should say he could, and should take it to his seat and begin, neither of the boys knowing what the other was doing. I should now have offered to this second boy a motive. Would it be the same with the other?"

"No, sir."

"What was the other?"

"Love of money."

"What is this?"

The boys hesitate.

"It might be called," continues the teacher, "friendship. It is the motive of a vast number of the actions which are performed in this world.

"Do you think of any other common motive of action besides love of money and friendship?"

"Love of honor," says one; "fear," says another.

"Yes," continues the teacher, "both these are common motives. I might, to exhibit them, call two more boys, one after the other, and say to the one, 'I will thank you to go and copy this piece of poetry as well as you can. I want to send it to the school committee as a specimen of improvement made in this school.'

"To the other I might say, 'You have been a careless boy to-day; you have not got your lessons well. Now take your seat and copy this poetry. Do it carefully. Unless you take pains, and do it as well as you possibly can, I shall punish you severely before you go home.'

"How many motives have I got now? Four, I believe."

"Yes, sir," say the boys.

"Love of money, friendship, love of honor, and fear. We called the first boy A; let us call the others B, C, and D; no, we shall remember better to call them by the name of their motives. We will call the first M, for money; the second, F, for friendship; the third, H, for honor; and the last, F—we have got an F already; what shall we do? On the whole, it is of no consequence; we will have two F's, but we will take care not to confound them.

"But there are a great many other motives entirely distinct from these. For example, suppose I should say to a fifth boy, 'Will you copy this piece of poetry? It belongs to one of the little boys in school: he wants a copy of it, and I told him I would try to get some one to copy it for him.' This motive, now, would be benevolence; that is, if the boy who was asked to copy it was not particularly acquainted with the other, and did it chiefly to oblige him. We will call this boy B, for Benevolence.

"Now suppose I call a sixth boy, and say to him, 'I have set four or five boys to work copying this piece of poetry; now I wish you to sit down, and see if you can not do it better than any of them. After all are done, I will compare them, and see if yours is not the best.' This would be trying to excite emulation. We must call this boy, then, E. But the time I intended to devote to talking with you on this subject for to-day is expired. Perhaps to-morrow I will take up the subject again."

The reader now will observe that the grand peculiarity of the instructions given by this last teacher, as distinguished from those of the first, consists in this, that the parts of the subject are presented in detail, and in particular exemplification. In the first case, the whole subject was dispatched in a single, general, and comprehensive description; in the latter, it is examined minutely, one point being brought forward at a time. The discussions are enlivened, too, by meeting and removing such little difficulties as will naturally come up in such an investigation. Boys and girls will take an interest in such a lecture; they will regret to have it come to a conclusion, and will give their attention when the subject is again brought forward on the following day. Let us suppose the time for continuing the exercise to have arrived. The teacher resumes the discussion thus: