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28330	----	REFLECTIONS ON THE OPERATION OF THE PRESENT SYSTEM OF EDUCATION. BY CHRISTOPHER C. ANDREWS, COUNSELLOR AT LAW. "TRAIN UP A CHILD IN THE WAY HE SHOULD GO; AND, WHEN HE IS OLD, HE WILL NOT DEPART FROM IT." BOSTON: CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY, 111, WASHINGTON STREET. 1853. BOSTON: PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 22, SCHOOL STREET. PREFATORY NOTE. The increasing importance of the subject treated of has led the author to revise an article, published nearly two years ago in a monthly journal, and to present it in the following pages. His object is to call attention to what he regards a _defect in the operation_ of our present system of education, and to propose some suggestions for its remedy. That defect consists in the want of moral instruction in our schools. Its existence, he believes, may be attributed to the state of public opinion, rather than to any imperfection in the system itself. For this reason, he is of opinion that remarks on the subject are more necessary, and therefore worthier of the consideration and indulgence of the public. 35, COURT STREET, BOSTON, May, 1853. THE INCOMPLETE OPERATION OF OUR PRESENT SYSTEM OF EDUCATION. The duty of bringing up the young in the way of usefulness has ever been acknowledged as of utmost importance to the well-being and safety of a State. So imperative was this obligation considered by Solon, the Athenian lawgiver, that he excused children from maintaining their parents, when old and feeble, if they had neglected to qualify them for some useful art or profession. Although this principle has universally prevailed in every civilized age, yet the success of its practical operation depends entirely upon what is understood by necessary knowledge and useful employment. If, as among the Lacedemonians and many other nations of antiquity, a useful art consisted chiefly in the exploits of war,--in being able to undergo privations and hardships, and in wielding successfully the heavy instruments of bloodshed,--such an education as would conduce to the acquirement of that art must be estimated on different grounds from that system whose object is to develop the moral and intellectual faculties. From the distant past, traditions have come down, evincing in many instances exemplary care in the culture of youth; but the conspicuous record made of them by the historian and poet refutes the idea that they were common. With the lapse of centuries, revolutions in the arts and sciences have been effected, important in themselves, but more so for the changes they have produced both in social and political affairs. Like hunters who discover in their forest-wanderings a valuable mine which shapes anew their course of life, the people of the old world, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, were allured from their incessant conflicts by the more profitable arts of peace. Till then the interests of learning had been crushed by the superstition and bigotry of the times. In the fourteenth century even, the most celebrated university in Europe, that of Bologna, bestowed its chief honors upon the professorship of astrology. But these grand developments in art and science gave a new impulse to social life. Thenceforward the interests of education began to thrive. The patronage given to popular instruction by many of the rulers of European States has imparted a lustre to their annals, which will almost atone for their heartless perversion of human rights. For whether we consider the coercive system of Prussia, which not yet exhibits very happy practical results; or the Austrian system, which indirectly operates coercively by denying employment to those unprovided with school-diplomas; or the Bavarian, which makes a certificate of six years' schooling necessary to the contracting of a valid marriage or apprenticeship; or, indeed, the systems of many other Continental countries,--we find much to excite cheering anticipations. This country--this Commonwealth especially--has ever been distinguished for being foremost in the maintenance of a benevolent and comprehensive system of education. That system is, we believe, in the judgment of foreigners, one of the most original things which America has produced. Fortunately for the prosperity of the people who derive their support on this rugged soil, their fathers were a class of men deeply imbued with moral sentiment,--lovers of freedom and of knowledge; men who sought that security of their principles in the spread of moral intelligence, which the sword alone would in vain attempt to procure. "The hands that wielded the axe or guided the canoe in the morning opened the page of history and philosophy in the evening;" and it cannot be a matter of surprise, that, counting their greatest wealth in their own industry and resolution, they should at an early period turn their attention to the important subject of education; and that they even denied themselves many of the comforts of life, in order to secure the blessings which might evolve therefrom. The peculiarity of our system of government is, that it invests the sovereignty in the people; and, as it has always been the policy of every nation claiming to be civilized to educate those who were designed to govern, it might naturally enough be inferred, that, in this country, means would be provided whereby the whole people might receive an education. And thus it is. The true object, therefore, of such a system of instruction as the government supports, it must be conceded by all, consists in qualifying the young to become good citizens,--in teaching them not only what their duties are, but making them ready and willing to perform them. We should discriminate between the object of common schools and the object of colleges; between an institution intended to inform every one of what every one should know, and one designed to fit persons for particular spheres of life, by a course of instruction which it is impracticable for all to pursue. A very large majority of those who enter our colleges are desirous of acquiring that knowledge, as well as discipline, which will prepare them most thoroughly for some one of the learned professions: it is a course preparatory to one still higher,--a gateway by which the industrious and sagacious may with greater ease traverse the long and winding avenues of science. Of a more general nature is the object of that instruction provided by the State for all, because it is designed to fit them for a greater variety of duties, and the chief of these duties is that of _living justly_. If we regarded physical resources as the chief elements of prosperity, or intellectual superiority the principal source of national greatness; if we followed the theory of the Persian legislator, Zoroaster, who thought that to plant a tree, to cultivate a field, and to have a family, were the great duties of man, we might be content with that instruction which would sharpen the intellect, and furnish us with acute and skilful men of business. But an enlightened public sentiment rejects such a theory as narrow and unsafe. It is surely of great importance that children should be made familiar with the common branches of knowledge; that their minds should receive as thorough discipline as is practicable; but of what transcendent importance is it that they should have impressed upon their minds the principles of truth and justice, and the true value of resolute, earnest industry; that they should grow up in the love of virtue and honor, and be taught to know and govern themselves! Education of the heart, as well as education of the mind, should be promoted. The State should make men before it makes artisans; citizens before it makes statesmen. And this in theory it proposes to do. The highest praise that can be bestowed upon our system of education, here in Massachusetts, is that the leading object it contemplates is the moral instruction of the young. This is its grand and peculiar feature. Those who have been and are now at the head of our educational interests, have sought, by timely word and deed, to carry this purpose into active operation. In so doing, they have attempted to give effect to the law which expressly ordains that "all instructors of youth shall exert their best endeavors to impress on the minds of children and youth committed to their care and instruction, the principles of piety, justice, and a sacred regard to truth, love to their country, humanity and universal benevolence, sobriety, industry and frugality, chastity, moderation and temperance, and those other virtues which are the ornament of human society, and the basis upon which a republican constitution is founded; and it shall be the duty of such instructors to endeavor to lead their pupils, as their ages and capacities will admit, into a clear understanding of the tendency of the above-mentioned virtues." (Rev. Stat. chap. 23, § 7.) Nobody, probably, at this day believes, that, in cherishing principles of this nature, the law which creates this system is visionary or impracticable. All are ready to admit, that the human heart needs the influence of moral discipline. Yet such is the nature of our social existence that there is a great tendency to postpone its application,--to let it depend upon contingencies. When nearly all of the good or evil that we can possibly do has been done,--after temptations have been resisted or yielded to,--after our years begin to wane, we then think seriously of moral improvement. Preachers the most eloquent--for their eloquence commands the highest reward--we employ to exhort us to practise virtues, which, if we had been rightly educated, we should have practised from our earliest youth with as much facility as we read or write. If a child is to learn grammar, let him commence, every one will say, when young, while his memory is most retentive. If we are to teach him those principles which are to shape his destiny in life, and have their home in the heart, should we wait till it is least susceptible of impression? It cannot be denied that too much indifference prevails on this subject. We are apt to shut our eyes to the evils which arise from imperfect education, so long as they do not affect our personal interest. Victims of depraved appetites and passions we take charge of, not out of regard for them, or the circumstances which have induced their guilt, but for our own protection. When a man sunk in crime is held up to public gaze, nearly the same feeling is excited which actuates boys who follow with noisy jests a drunken woman. Rarely do we stop to inquire, why, if wrong influences had been brought to bear upon our characters, we should not have been as bad. Unless such instruction be promoted, many who are now unconcerned for the misfortunes of others will themselves ask for compassion. "Surely there will come a time," says Dr. Johnson with truthful energy, "when he who laughs at wickedness in his companion _shall start from it in his child_." Now, the only sure and legitimate way of reforming those evils which burden society is to prevent their acquiring any existence. It is a favorite notion with many, that, by checking vice here and there, our benevolent institutions are working a thorough cure. But this is not so. While we furnish subsistence to those whom intemperance and idleness have brought to destitution,--while we erect asylums where reason may be restored to the shattered mind,--while we enlarge prisons in which to punish the violators of the law,--we should remember that some endeavors should be made to prevent others from requiring the same charities, and incurring the same penalties. Instead of standing merely by the fatal shoal to rescue the sinking crew, we should raise a warning signal to avert future shipwrecks. All experience shows that, to operate successfully, this branch of education must be early attended to. True it is, that, just as 'the twig is bent, the tree's inclined;' and true it is, that on the discipline of childhood depends the moral character of manhood. The tree in the forest, after it has grown to a considerable height, may yet be bent from its natural course, and, by long-continued force, be made to grow in a different direction; but that change will not be permanent. When the power which turned its course is withdrawn, every breeze and every tempest that shake its branches will aid it in gradually assuming its original position, till hardly a trace of that power which attempted to guide its growth can be perceived. There may be some who would neglect that moral influence on the young which is necessary, trusting in the delusive expectation, that the law will keep them in the right path; that the example of punishment, the terror of the gallows, the prison, or the penitentiary, will prevent the commission of crime. But let us not wait for the saving influence of these things; for they are but checks which often render the next outbreak more alarming. The force of punishment will be found to resemble the application of power in changing the growth of the tree: weeks, years of confinement, will not effect a complete reformation in the offender. His life may seem to be changed, his habits reformed; but, as he goes out to mingle again with the world, as one occasion after another presents itself to him, his former passions begin to revive, those early impressions take possession of him, and he becomes the same that he was originally, only that his degraded position renders him far less able to resist the temptation to do wrong. Impressions and habits acquired in youth are proverbially lasting. With characteristic eloquence and fervor has Lord Brougham illustrated the peculiar importance of early training. In a Speech delivered in the House of Lords in 1835 upon one of those measures which have conferred so much glory on his name as well as benefit upon his countrymen, he said, "If at a very early age a system of instruction is pursued by which a certain degree of independent feeling is created in the child's mind, while all mutinous and perverse disposition is avoided,--if this system be followed up by a constant instruction in the principles of virtue, and a corresponding advancement in intellectual pursuits,--if, during the most critical years of his life, his understanding and his feelings are accustomed only to sound principles and pure and innocent impressions, it will become almost impossible that he should afterward take to vicious courses, because these will be utterly alien to the whole nature of his being. It will be as difficult for him to become criminal, because as foreign to his confirmed habits, as it would be for one of your lordships to go out and rob on the highway. Thus, to commence the education of youth at the tender age on which I have laid so much stress, will, I feel confident, be the same means of guarding society against crimes. I trust every thing to habit,--habit, upon which, in all ages, the lawgiver, as well as the schoolmaster, has mainly placed his reliance,--habit, which makes every thing easy, and casts all difficulties upon the deviation from the wonted course. Make sobriety a habit, and intemperance will be hateful and hard; make prudence a habit, and reckless profligacy will be as contrary to the nature of the child, grown an adult, as the most atrocious crimes are to any of your lordships. Give a child the habit of sacredly regarding truth, of carefully respecting the property of others, of scrupulously abstaining from all acts of improvidence which can involve him in distress, and he will just as little think of lying or cheating or stealing, or running in debt, as of rushing into an element in which he cannot breathe." The thought may strike some, however, that children can receive moral discipline at home; that parents are best enabled to understand the disposition of their children, and can consequently apply the requisite training with more success than any one else; and, most of all, because it is their especial duty so to do. So we might say, with almost as much reason, that parents could teach their children the elementary branches of knowledge; in the first place, because it is in their province to know the peculiar turn of mind possessed by their children, and also for the equally plausible reason, that they are under a great obligation to educate them. Now, there is much truth in the observation of Seneca's, that people carry their neighbors' faults in a bag before them, which are easily to be seen, and their own behind them unseen; and, without doing parents too much injustice, we may say that they are inclined to carry the failings of their children tied up with their own. The fact is, generally speaking, parents are so confident that their children do not lack in honesty and integrity, at a time when these principles should be forcibly impressed upon them, that they let the occasion for moral training pass until bad habits are deeply rooted in their character. There are, we know, many cheering exceptions; yet, if moral instruction is neglected in the school, to a majority of the scholars that neglect will nowhere be provided for, until some bad results have ensued. To carry out, then, the primal purpose of our system of education, instructors should seek to mould the character of their pupils. Supervisors and committee-men should require a faithful discharge of this trust. When they come to examine the school, if the standard of intellectual attainments is not so high as might be desirable, they should yet bear testimony to its advancement, if they find that those "virtues which adorn life" have been held up in all their attractiveness to the imitation of the pupil. Thus have we seen that the system itself contemplates the culture of the heart as well as the mind; and that it is wise, practical, and just in doing so. We now propose to show that this object is generally disregarded, if not entirely lost sight of, in our common schools; and to illustrate, if possible, the means whereby it can be more completely carried into operation. In the first place, the present state of society testifies to a neglect somewhere of inculcating habits of rectitude. There is a want of CONSCIENCE in the community. The prevalence of crime, as seen by the returns of public prosecutors and magistrates, is but a small part of the evidence of this fact. We might as well judge of a man's wealth by his dress, as to form an opinion on public morals by the number of punishable offences committed. And, indeed, the records of courts furnish but incomplete evidence of the number of punishable offences actually committed; for where one criminal is brought to the bar of justice, ten escape detection. We have the authority of a very eminent Judge for this remark. But there are wrongs which are not punishable by the law, being too small and undefinable for its cognizance. It is the bad faith which enters into contracts, and deceives the honest purchaser, or dupes the confiding vendor; the baseness which conspires to wink down credit; the avarice which greedily takes advantage of poverty, or the craft which converts it into a weapon of fraud; the scandal which sets neighbor against neighbor; the fretful harshness which clouds the domestic fireside; the ingratitude which spurns parental influence; the selfishness which would trade in principles, and bargain away public measures for private gain,--these, and such as these, are the conclusive proofs of public vice. Even the deplorable appearances which penury exhibits are counterfeited, and we hesitate to give alms lest we should encourage an impostor. The benevolent man distrusts the beggar who asks for a night's lodging, and turns him away, fearful that he might prove an assassin or a robber; or he reluctantly calls him back, lest he should revenge himself by burning his barn. There are common symptoms which show a patient's sickness, though they do not indicate the particular nature of his disease. So this mutual distrust, which characterizes the dealings of men, indicates the debility of public morals, and points with unerring certainty to the neglect of early discipline. But an inspection of the schools will afford us the most reliable evidence on this subject. From the system of instruction now pursued in our best common schools, a scholar of ordinary capacity is enabled to become a good reader, writer, and speller; to acquire a very good knowledge of geography and arithmetic, and a little insight into natural philosophy, physiology, grammar, and history, as well as to gain some habits of order and correct deportment. It is true also that in some schools considerable efforts are bestowed on moral culture: this, however, depends upon the peculiar character of the teacher. Yet it cannot be denied, that intellectual improvement is treated as of paramount importance; and that, if any attempts are made at moral training, they are purely incidental; being considered collateral to the other lessons. Surely no one will think of reproaching teachers for this condition of things; for they are governed by the public opinion of the district or town they teach in, as much as the statesman is governed by the public opinion of the country. The voice of the district is silent on the subject. The committee who examined or engaged them did not allude to that part of their duty, or inquire into their qualifications for discharging it. If the teacher goes through the term in harmony, and succeeds in advancing his pupils in an ordinary degree in the common branches, he is acknowledged to have accomplished his entire duty. In attempting to show the manner in which the right development of character may be blended with the development of the mental faculties, it might be proper to advert to the method a teacher could pursue with the greatest success. A very imperfect idea only of any policy can be given, inasmuch as the duty must be left to his own discretion. No set plan can be adhered to; neither could text-books be used to advantage. He should not have an appointed time for such an exercise, nor resort to formal lectures, nor rely upon the studied maxims which moralists have framed in the closet, nor depend upon the stereotyped precepts of philosophers. As the sentiments he inculcates are addressed to the heart, so also from the heart should they spring. Every one knows that the events which transpire in and about the school-room furnish too frequent opportunities for this species of instruction. These acts of turpitude he should heed, and make the subject of his lessons. Report comes to him that some of his pupils have been guilty of insulting and ridiculing an aged and infirm person. He might give them time to reflect upon the nature of their act, and to decide themselves whether it was right or wrong. Then let him show the claims which age, combined with feebleness, has upon our respect and sympathy, and expose the cruelty and shame of that conduct which would increase its misfortunes. He learns, perhaps, that a pupil has used profane language during an intermission. As he requires the school to pause, let him speak in simple language of the omnipotence and omnipresence of the Creator; of the commandment which he has ordained, that none should take his name in vain. By referring to some of the faculties, mental and physical, with which he has been endowed, let the teacher call forth the gratitude, not only of that pupil but the whole school, for the wonderful goodness of their Maker. By reminding them of his compassion and tenderness, his infinite wisdom and power, let him inspire them with love and reverence for his name. Envy and jealousy he will see prominent in the character of his fairest pupils: let him show that the heart was not made for such feelings; that, if they are nurtured there, no room will be found for noble and generous sentiments. Quarrels will occur in which blows will be dealt lustily: a few simple illustrations will prove that force is a dangerous and imperfect arbiter of justice. If unhappily falsehood prevails, let him make haste to supplant a habit, so fearful and pernicious, though every thing else be laid aside. Let him show the great inconvenience a man must experience in whose word no confidence can be reposed. The fable of the shepherd-boy who gave false alarms to the distant workmen of the approach of wolves, so that when the wolves really came his cries were in vain, will show that lying is unprofitable in the end. But his chief object should be to exhibit the moral turpitude of the habit,--the facility with which it leads to deeper guilt,--the manifold evils which it engenders in the community; and thus to impress upon the minds of his pupils a sacred regard for truth. Such, it might seem, would be the course which a high-minded and zealous teacher would pursue in imparting moral instruction. But, whatever be his method, it is quite certain that a successful performance of his duty in this respect implies great capacity. Extensive learning will not be a sufficient qualification. An accurate and comprehensive knowledge of the sciences may have given vigor to his mind; he may be familiar with the classic pages of Thucydides and Homer, Horace and Livy; he may be versed in the philosophy of history, and yet lack in the essential elements of his art. He must possess native talent, a clear insight of human character, agreeable address, extemporaneous powers of speech. He must be a clear-thinking, conscientious, practical man; and it will be impossible for him to fail in his undertaking. Such a teacher will win the respect and esteem of his pupils: they will imitate his example, and cherish his counsel. Now, the inquiry will naturally be made if the teachers of common schools have these qualifications. There are some who are thus qualified. They are those who in other professions would rise to eminence by the zeal and ability with which they now advance our youth in intellectual culture. But they are an exception to the common standard. The majority of teachers, however, are quite young. They are preparing themselves for other duties, which they consider more important to their own interests, if not the interests of the public. Not experienced sufficiently in their art to excel in its ordinary labors, they do not stand far enough above their pupils to succeed in this higher and more difficult branch of instruction. Before, then, moral education can be successfully promoted, the right kind of teachers must be employed. There is but one way of obtaining them, and that is by paying them liberal salaries. All are not philanthropists. Here and there, it is true, may be found persons disinterested enough to devote their energies to the public good, for their daily bread alone. But it is the height of absurdity to expect that men of talent and learning will continue in so arduous an occupation as that of teaching for small compensation, when in less laborious pursuits they can acquire opulence. The average pay received by male teachers throughout the Commonwealth, as appears from the last annual report of the learned Secretary of the Board of Education, is $37.26 per month. The average length of schools being seven months and a half, the yearly salary of the teacher would therefore be $279.45; out of which he must pay for his board and all other expenses. Hardly adequate to support one man respectably, it entirely excludes the circumstance of his having a family, implying a self-denial of the common uses of social life. The natural presumption is, that a teacher is not exempt from the calamities that sometimes befall men; that he buys a few books and a little stationary; that he is as unwilling as any one to wear ragged clothes; and, uncertain of continued employment in one place, that he incurs some expense in changing his locality. But the standard price which he receives ignores any such presumption. In regard to the payment of female teachers, we might suppose that a different rule would prevail; that in a community where woman holds a high moral, social, and intellectual position,--where marked deference is paid to her character,--where the great superiority of her influence as a parent and a teacher is acknowledged,--one might indeed suppose that she would be liberally rewarded for her services, especially when those services are rendered in her peculiar sphere of duty,--that of teaching. Strange as it may appear, such is not the case; while her labor, apparently not so responsible, is often more wearing than the labor of the schoolmaster. It seems that the average pay of female teachers is $15.36 per month. When it is remembered that all the expenses of living are to be deducted from the amount paid at this rate, her real income shrinks into the merest trifle. There is not an occupation in which intelligent young women can be employed that does not present greater pecuniary inducements. Under such circumstances it must be a matter of surprise that we have as good teachers, both male and female, as now have charge of our schools. Will any one, then, for a moment suppose that persons of greater ability than they will be induced to engage or continue in such an employment, when wealth and influence and happiness point in another direction? Laying aside suppositions, let us see what the facts are. With the majority of those now engaged in the business, teaching is a temporary employment. Some are teaching during their college vacations, intending, as soon as they graduate, to commence their professional studies;--they are perhaps our future judges, or clergymen, or sagacious merchants; others are already abandoning the business to enter upon mercantile pursuits. As soon as they have acquired experience, so that their services are truly valuable to the public, they find that their future prospects are to be sacrificed if they continue longer in the profession. Thus, instead of retaining persons in this most important of all professions, we drive them out of it to adorn and exalt other occupations. Many of the ablest men in each of our learned professions were once school-teachers: if a proper reward had encouraged them to remain in that capacity, how visible at this day would be the influence which they would have exerted upon their pupils! It is clear, then, that the only means by which we can retain teachers who have the requisite talent and ability, is by paying them adequate salaries. Then our schools can furnish moral as well as intellectual instruction; and the object which our system of education contemplates can in a great degree be accomplished. Fully aware that the people are peculiarly sensitive on the subject of taxation, especially when no tangible results are to follow its increase, we do not hesitate to say that the interests of education demand a far greater expenditure of money. The spirit which has characterized the people of the Commonwealth, in their past efforts to advance the cause, promises favorable action on the subject. In an age when astonishing improvements in every art and every science are being developed,--when nature, in her most regal and opposing state, bends to the energy of man,--when countless sums are lavished to gratify and satiate every sense, how mortifying and discreditable that a great moral cause should languish! Even if the contribution which would be required for this purpose could in any way be felt by the poorest citizen, it could not be felt as a burden; for he might regard it as an investment the most profitable and secure,--the income of which would return to his own door full of blessings upon his declining days. When solicited to double the tax which he had formerly paid for school-purposes, regarding his own interest merely, and not that of the public, he might sincerely say, "Yes, out of my limited means I am content to pay freely for such an object. By paying the teacher more, am I not increasing his usefulness? Am I not doing something to bring up my children in knowledge and integrity? Will they not be a greater comfort to me, and more happy and prosperous themselves? Besides, in a few years, much mischief in the community may be diminished, and there will be a smaller tax on me and mine to support criminals and prisons. If all are taught to do their duty as citizens, I shall not suffer for their neglect of doing so." Though the correctness of his reasoning will be admitted, the argument in this behalf should be placed on higher grounds than individual prosperity. The benefits to be derived by the public as exhibited in the abatement of many social evils,--in the diffusion of rational happiness,--in the gains of honest industry, such should be the inducements to this worthy undertaking. In conclusion, we submit that for reasons too apparent to be alluded to, and too urgent to be disregarded, more attention should be devoted to the true aim and purpose of education,--to a more complete operation of the system. More than the past has needed, will the future require the benefits which it unfolds. Let the teacher's vocation be elevated, and advantages will accrue to the State, compared with which, exuberant harvests, a thriving commerce, and an overflowing treasury, will be but small resources. We should form a wise and generous precedent in this matter, below which indifference will not suffer us to fall. We should engage in the enterprise with a determination to carry it forward to the highest degree of success. It may be "absurd to expect, but it is not absurd to pursue, perfection." 
16305	----	CRAYON AND CHARACTER Truth Made Clear Through Eye and Ear or Ten-Minute Talks With Colored Chalks B.J. GRISWOLD MEIGS PUBLISHING COMPANY INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA 1913 First Reprint 1918 FOREWORD. Any earnest Christian who is capable of addressing an audience or a Sunday school class, can, by the aid of this book, give a helpful chalk talk. The book has been designed to meet a growing need of this important phase of teaching. Any parent, with this book in the home, can use it not only to teach the boy or the girl a simple method of drawing, but may implant in the life of the child the good seed of the Tree of Life. In the preparation of these talks, "Life" has been the keyword. The thought permeates both the text and the style of illustration used. It is also a feature of the arrangement of each talk whereby a "developing" or "living" picture holds the attention of the listeners through two "scenes" or "steps" of unfolding. Many of the time-honored symbols will not be found in these pages. The Anchor as the emblem of Hope, and the Crown as the type of Victory or Kingship have given place to symbols and types from nature and from the every-day life of common folks. Many a smile has been introduced. And why not? We proclaim the Gospel as the Good News, the message of joy and gladness. The New Testament, with its glad tidings of great joy, is one continuous song. Always, however, it has been the aim to lead the thoughts of the listener to Him whose Light we are to reflect among men. The title of each chalk talk appears twice in the index, in order to provide a wide range of subjects from which to select an appropriate lesson for each occasion. In his years of experience as a newspaper writer and illustrator, the author has endeavored to cultivate the art of saying as much as possible in a few words and drawn lines. In this book (and in your chalk talk work) the same thought applies. As a Sunday school superintendent and a teacher, the author hopes that many may not be afraid to undertake the use of chalk after studying the easy method here described. As a means of enlarging your usefulness as a teacher of the Eternal Truth, the book, we believe, contains much that will help and encourage. Fort Wayne, Indiana. B.J. GRISWOLD. "BEFORE TAKING." There are too many books published which are GOOD for _two things only_: FIRST--They are good sellers, possibly "Best Sellers." SECOND--They are good at keeping people out of bed till midnight--because they make such "mighty interestin' reading." Such books may make their authors famous and their publishers rich, but if that is all they are good for, we would not care to sell, much less to publish, them. The book which the reader holds is put out, not because it is bound to be a _good seller_ nor because it is _interesting_, but because of its power to HELP Christian work and workers, and of its own ability to give instruction in righteousness to its readers, old and young; to sow seed thoughts of truth in human minds and hearts. And who will it help? All Christian platform workers in general and the Sunday School Superintendent in particular. The Superintendent, especially on all "Special Days." The Pastor, especially in the prayer meeting where any kind of help, _so it is help_, will be welcomed by most pastors. It will be useful to all because of its wealth of material and illustration for expressive and impressive _little, big, ten-minute talks_, whenever opportunity offers. We commend the book with all earnestness, to these various classes of people, and will insist that no father or mother will ever be the poorer, but the richer, who will part with the price and get in exchange for it a copy of this book, as a birthday or Christmas gift to a son or daughter between ten and twenty years of age. It will help parents in the uncertain and difficult problem of rearing their children in a way that will make them and keep them a joy in the home, rather than a heartache, a heart break, and the saddest kind of a bereavement, which is too often the case. Surely a dollar spent which may help avert this, is worth far more than a hundred cents lying unused in a bank. There are sixty-two picture outlines in the book, and with every picture a ten-minute talk, with chalk illustration, which recites and impresses, now, a great and noble deed of a truly noble man; now a kindly act with a double blessing in it; again, a warning to those who unknowingly set foot upon the devil's ground and find it a miry or slimy pit; or, it may be a lesson from one of the world's great poets or historians, for the author has evidently been a reader of great books with a mind to recall many lessons learned therefrom. THE PUBLISHERS. CONTENTS. Page. INTRODUCTION: The Plan of the Book .......................... 7 The Value of Chalk Talks ...................... 7 The Two-Scene Method .......................... 8 Chalk Work on Paper ........................... 8 Materials Are Cheap ........................... 8 Important to Beginners ........................ 8 EQUIPMENT AND MATERIALS: The Drawing Board ............................. 10 The Drawing Paper ............................. 10 The Chalk ..................................... 12 PREPARING TO GIVE THE CHALK TALK: The Method Explained .......................... 12 Outlining the Right Picture ................... 13 Not an Artist, But a Teacher .................. 14 Finishing Part of the Drawing in Advance ...... 14 The Value of Individuality .................... 14 International or Graded Lessons ............... 14 Talks for Special Days ........................ 14 Talk vs. Chalk ................................ 16 Strive Only for Good .......................... 16 Recording Your Talks .......................... 16 A Word to Parents ............................. 16 A Final Word to Pastors ....................... 18 INDEX: Talks for Special Days ........................ 205 Subject Index ................................. 207 His pictured morals mend the mind And through the eye correct the heart. --GARRICK, _on Hogarth_. INTRODUCTION. ~~The Plan of the Book.~~ In the preparation of this book the author has had two great plans in mind: To prepare a work which will enable _any person, who can speak to a class or an audience, to give a helpful, inspiring illustrated talk_; to place in the hands of parents everywhere a book to enable them to teach the children a simple, fascinating method of drawing and, at the same time make the great truths of life a part of their every-day learning. Clear instructions are given as to the method of doing these two things. Then come sixty-two complete talks of special appropriateness for Christian teaching. If you are included in the following classes of workers, the book should be of special value to you: (a) Speakers who earnestly want to give illustrated talks, but who feel that they "can't draw a straight line." (b) Those who are experienced in chalk talk work and are seeking new material. (c) Teachers of the Uniform Lessons. (d) Teachers of Graded Lessons. (e) Sunday school superintendents, for platform work. (f) Pastors, for use in prayer meetings and many other services of the church. (g) Temperance workers. In this department of work this book is especially worthy of consideration. (h) Those who need suggestions to help them work out their own addresses. (i) Parents for giving instruction in the home. It is a great truth that such teaching is far more effective than any which the church or the schools may provide. ~~The Value of Chalk Talks.~~ Scientists tell us that _nothing which completely occupies the mind for any length of time is ever forgotten_. This, then, is the reason that the chalk talk method of teaching is so lastingly impressive. People forget everything else while watching a speaker draw a picture. And if they do that, they can never completely forget the words of the speaker or the picture he draws. A baby that doesn't know one letter from another can understand some pictures as well as _you_ can. Try him once and see. And if he lives to be a hundred years of age, he will receive more lasting impressions from pictures than from what he reads. Your audience, therefore, may be depended upon to be "right with you" from the beginning. ~~The Two-Scene Method.~~ Added to this feature of securing strict attention, we find in this book another help in the same direction: Every talk is given in two "scenes" or steps. The speaker draws part of the picture, while he speaks, and then, at a little later period, adds the lines to complete the drawing and bring the scene to a climax. In each talk, the upper picture is the first scene, and the lower picture is the second scene, or completed drawing. ~~Chalk Work on Paper.~~ The book is planned to encourage the use of sheets of book- or news-paper instead of the blackboard. Paper is used by all leading workers with chalk. To discard the blackboard is to take a forward step. However, if you are "wedded" to the use of the blackboard and can handle it effectively, you will find all but a small number of these illustrations adapted to your method. ~~Materials Are Cheap.~~ Probably your school or church is already supplied with the necessary apparatus to do all the work as planned in this book. However, for any who may need to provide for himself a drawing board and easel, instructions for making them are here given. It is only necessary, then, to procure drawing paper and chalk. These are cheap in price and easy to get. You are urged, therefore, to proceed with the use of drawing paper as here instructed, and to lay aside the blackboard for the more advanced method. ~~Important to Beginners.~~ Each drawing in the book, as already stated, is given in two "scenes," in order to show you how your drawing will look _when it is partly finished_ (first scene), and how it will look _when it is completed_ (second scene). If you are at all "bashful" about taking up the work, let us make this suggestion: In the seclusion of your home or elsewhere, draw the _first scene_ of your talk completely. Thus you will have plenty of time to make it to suit you, with no one to look on and fluster or confuse you. Then cover up the completed work, by placing another sheet of paper over it. When you appear before the audience to give your talk, give your spoken introduction and lead up to the _first scene_. At this point, remove the cover paper and expose your drawing. Proceed with your talk until you reach the climax in the _second scene_, at which time you give the picture the final lines with your crayon. Many will find this an easy, satisfactory way to give these talks--indeed many of the illustrations in the book are most effective if given in this way. Experience, however, brings greater confidence, and many will prefer to do most of their drawing in sight of the audience. Devote yourself to a thorough understanding of essentials, and you will be pleased at the ease with which the field opens. The encouraging words of your associates and the echoes of the good you are doing will strengthen your confidence. ~~Equipment and Materials.~~ The necessary equipment and materials for the work include the drawing board, the drawing paper and the chalk (or lecture crayons). ~~The Drawing Board.~~ Probably your school has a reversible blackboard mounted on an easel, like that shown in Fig. 1. If so, you will find it amply sufficient for your use. The two or three little holes made by the thumb tacks, to attach your drawing paper to the board, at the top, will not injure it in the least. If you haven't such a board, it would be well to procure one, as it can be used for many purposes. The writer has often used a board of this kind in giving chalk talks. The publishers of this book will be glad to give full information as to size and price of such a board. [Illustration: Fig. 1] [Illustration: Fig. 2] Another convenient and cheap equipment is an ordinary square board, Fig. 2. If you take six boards, each 45 inches long, 7 inches wide and 1/2 inch thick, and attach them to two cleats at the back, you will have a good, serviceable drawing board which can be hung against the wall with screw hooks and screw eyes; or, it can be set on an easel or other convenient holder. It is only necessary that the board be smooth and the wood be well-seasoned soft pine or bass wood to keep it from warping. If screws are used to fasten the boards to the cleats, screw them through from the back, leaving the front perfectly smooth. Be sure that the screws aren't too long. It would be well to stain the board brown or some other dark color. [Illustration: Fig. 3] A combination drawing board and easel is shown in Fig. 3, a back view of which is given. Take six boards of well-seasoned soft pine, 45 inches long, 8 inches wide and 1/2 inch thick. For the rear legs, use two pieces 5 feet and 8 inches long, 2 inches wide and 1/2 inch thick. A wire should be attached to each rear leg to avoid spreading. Fig. 4 shows this board and easel in use. [Illustration: Fig. 4] ~~The Drawing Paper.~~ The most inexpensive paper for chalk talk work is the kind on which newspapers are printed. It may be purchased from printing houses, paper dealers or newspaper offices. A cheap quality of book-paper is also good, and may be bought from printing houses and paper dealers. Ordinary light-colored, light-weight manila paper, such as is used for wrapping, is very satisfactory; it may be procured from paper dealers, or, if you want but a small quantity, probably any merchant would be glad to supply you. The lines which you intend to place on it may be worth infinitely more than the goods he plans to wrap in it. ~~The Chalk.~~ The writer is accustomed to using chalk made by the American Crayon Company, which can be had at any time from the publishers of this book, and, doubtless, from other publishers. Ask for "lecture crayons." A complete price list, together with samples of colors, will be furnished on request. For general work it is well to have on hand a half dozen sticks of black and a stick each of green, brown, red, yellow, orange and blue. The lecture crayons come in two sizes, one measuring one inch square and three inches long; the other is one-half inch square and three inches in length. If you choose the larger size, the sticks can, when advisable, be cut to the smaller size. PREPARING TO GIVE THE TALK The instructions here given are for the beginner. Others will follow their accustomed methods. In our introduction we make the claim that any earnest Christian worker, who is capable of addressing an audience or a Sunday school class can, by the aid of this book, give a helpful chalk talk. Your response may be, "But, I can't draw." Listen! The following instructions will teach you how to do the work without a technical or practical knowledge of drawing. Let us take up the matter step by step. When you understand the process, it will be "as easy as falling off a log," and it won't jolt you half as much. ~~The Method Explained.~~ THE FIRST STEP--Before the time comes to give your talk, attach half a dozen sheets of your drawing paper to your drawing board, making a smooth drawing surface. It is well to use thumb tacks for this purpose. Open the book to page 26, for we will prepare to give the chalk talk entitled "The Two Faces." The upper picture. Fig. 7, shows the picture partly finished; the lower picture, Fig. 8, shows how the picture will look when completed. You will note that the lower picture is cut up into squares measuring one-fourth of an inch each way. THE SECOND STEP--By the use of a yardstick and lead pencil, draw pencil lines on the large sheets of drawing paper, so as to separate the drawing paper into the same number of squares as there are on the picture in the book. Your paper is much larger than the page of the book; therefore the squares on your drawing paper must be made much larger than the squares in the book. It is easy to calculate the size of the squares you should draw on the paper. Measure the width of the paper in inches and divide by sixteen (the number of squares across the picture in the book), and this will give you the figure representing the size of the squares you are to draw on the paper. If your drawing paper is thirty-two inches wide, your squares will measure two inches each way. THE THIRD STEP--Select one of the squares in Fig. 8 as a starting point, and then find the corresponding square on your drawing paper. Having done this, draw a pencil line on your drawing paper, which will cross your enlarged squares in just the same places that the line crosses the small squares in the book. Continue the process until both faces have been outlined on your paper in the enlarged form. Then, with a piece of soft rubber, erase all of the straight pencil lines which form the squares, and the remaining outlines of the two faces will stand out clear and distinct. Already you will have found that you are more of an artist than you thought you were! This sheet of paper, with its dim pencil outlines of the picture, is now ready to be brought before your audience. You must, however, be sure of one thing: the pencil outlines must be just plain enough for _you_ to see them without difficulty, but they must be dimmed with the eraser to such an extent that your audience _cannot_ see them. Thus you have before you a complete outline of the picture you are to draw, and, as you speak, you merely trace over these dim pencil outlines with your chalk. Isn't it simple? THE FOURTH STEP--All of the preparations up to this time have been done in the quietude of your own room. You are now ready to place your drawing board before your audience. After a smile of greeting you begin your talk. "Let us," you say, "talk for a little while about our thoughts," and then you proceed until you reach the reference to the sour-faced man. "Here, for instance," you continue, "is a man with a face something like this:" and you begin your drawing, starting anywhere you choose. Take your time, and when you have finished the sour face, the audience will show its appreciation with a heartily responsive smile. This completes Fig. 7. Proceed then with the talk until you reach the reference to the man with the sunny face. "Here comes a man who looks something like this:" Draw the second face, and you will have completed Fig. 8 and reached the climax of the drawing. As you make the application of the lesson, you will feel that your effort has already repaid you for the work you have undertaken, and each succeeding attempt will make the work easier until it becomes a pleasing habit. [Illustration: Fig. 5] In Fig. 5 and Fig. 6 are shown a section of each of the faces of the talk just referred to. Here they are enlarged four times. A-A shows the preliminary pencil lines forming the one-inch squares, B-B indicates the pencil outlines of the faces, and C-C illustrates the tracing of the pencil lines with the chalk. In this instance black chalk only is required. [Illustration: Fig. 6] ~~Outlining the Right Picture.~~ In some of the talks in the book, the dotted squares cover the upper picture; in others, they are drawn over the lower picture. In either case, the one containing the squares is the one to be outlined on your drawing paper. ~~Not an Artist, But a Teacher.~~ There should be no hesitation on your part to trace with chalk the pencil lines which you have placed on your drawing paper. Remember, always, that you are posing as a humble teacher of God's Word and not as an artist. Your pencil outline holds the same relation to your chalk talk that the minister's notes hold to his sermon. Both are prepared in advance to enable the speaker to best present his message. Do not try to conceal your method. There is nothing about it of which you need be ashamed. ~~Finishing Part of the Drawing in Advance.~~ Now that the process has been explained in detail, a thorough understanding of the suggestion under the heading, "Important to Beginners," seems most essential as a still easier way to do the work. Finishing part of the work in advance still leaves the speaker something to do, and the audience will always be interested in finding out what that "something" is to be. ~~The Value of Individuality.~~ It is well for the beginner to cultivate an individual style of speaking. Substitute your own methods of expression in place of the language of the book. The more you do it, the larger will be the feeling that the message is a personal one from you to your hearers. Whenever you can do so, substitute a "home" illustration for the one in the book. As you become more accustomed to the work you will doubtless use pictures and subjects entirely outside of the book. Remember that any outline picture may be enlarged after the method here shown. Cut your picture into squares with drawn lines, and enlarge it in the same manner. Many Bible scenes may be shown in this way. ~~International or Graded Lessons.~~ The book has been provided with two indexes. One directs you to fitting talks for special days. The other serves as a guide to talks and illustrations suitable to the application of any lesson. Determine the central thought of the lesson and consult the Subject Index. It will help you choose a talk appropriate for the day. The talk may need a little revision to enable you to give it the proper application, but the main thought will be readily apparent. ~~Talks for Special Days.~~ The index for suitable talks for special days includes some which are not yet generally observed but which are of growing importance. Introducing some of these into your school or church as novelties, they may become as permanent as Easter, Children's Day, Rally Day and others. ~~Talk vs. Chalk.~~ No matter how little preparation you may need for your talk, remember that the words you speak are of greatest importance. It is to your words that you must give careful study, or your audience may lose the force of your thought while centering their attention upon the developing picture. Never apologize for the appearance of your drawing or of your ability as an artist. Strive to present truth only. Truth needs no apology. Do not draw in a sketchy manner. Determine on the place to begin your drawing and then use a continuous, easy line, without lifting the chalk from the paper, except when necessary to start in a new place. ~~Strive Only for Good.~~ The design of this book has been to present brief, impressive talks which hold attention for from ten to twelve minutes. It is advisable never to speak longer than this, especially when children form a part of your audience and are the special object of your words. If you cease speaking just when the audience wants to hear more, you will always be assured of a hearing the next time. If you leave one single wholesome thought with your audience you will have accomplished the greatest good. Avoid mannerisms. Cultivate an easy style of speaking and working. Don't become discouraged if everything doesn't go to suit you. Your audience is not a critical but a sympathetic one. All are striving to do the Master's work, and the field you have undertaken will bring you the interest and the kindliest co-operation of all who are working with but one great object in view. ~~Recording Your Talks.~~ It is suggested that each talk, as you give it, be so marked in the book as to indicate the time and place of its use, so you will avoid possible repetition before the same audience months or years later. ~~A Word to Parents.~~ The same general principles of procedure as those here given are suggested as the best method of using this book in the home. For the very little children, the parent will find it well to enlarge the outlines upon paper and tell the stories in such a way as can be understood best, but for the boys or girls who are in the younger grades at school the book describes a method of drawing which will delight and instruct them. Of course, the parent will have to teach the method to the children, as they will be incapable of understanding it from the printed description. With this instruction will come the unfolding of the stories of the book and their application. A child, when he sees a picture of a face or a house or any other object, wants to know all about it--whose it is, what it is or what it is for. This is true especially if it be a picture which he is asked to draw for himself or which he sees drawn. This enables the parent to give into expectant and waiting ears the great truths of Christ as expressed in pictures which the child understands. It is best, we believe; in instructing those who are old enough to do the drawing themselves or watch the parent do it, to select paper of such a size as can be used on a desk or table. Ordinary letter-size unruled tablet paper is convenient to get and easily handled. Let the child square off the page, under the parent's directions, and then let him do his part in tracing the picture from the book. Doubtless, some of the enlarged pictures will be "fearfully and wonderfully made," but it is a start in a splendid direction--a start which may have its ending in the happiness for which every parent longs and which cannot come unless the children begin in childhood to become the companions of their parents--companions who cannot be separated in later years by distance or the disturbances of the earthly life. ~~A Final Word to Ministers.~~ Do not forget that there is no earthly or heavenly reason why a minister should not have a blackboard or an easel on the pulpit platform or in the prayer meeting room to help him keep his audiences awake while he tries to drive truth home to heart and mind. It is every preacher's duty to be _interesting_, and if this book and the blackboard, or the equipment for chalk talk work, will help him to be so, then it is his plain duty to buy the book and secure the chalk and easel and _"get busy" being interesting_! And there is one more thing: Don't forget you can do it--_if you try_! And now, with these general instructions and observations, the book is commended to the use of all who have the love of Christ in their hearts and who, as faithful workers, may wish to add one more working tool to those they have used so well. THE TWO FACES --Our Thoughts. --Optimism. "As a Man Thinketh in His Heart, So Is He"--A Lesson in Character Building. THE LESSON--That our thoughts determine the kind of life we live, and often proclaim character in the face. If the teacher succeeds in impressing upon the pupil the great need to "guard well thy thoughts," for "our thoughts are heard in heaven," he will have accomplished a work of immeasurable good in the life of the child or youth who is the fortunate object of such interest. ~~The Talk.~~ "Let us think a while about our thoughts. Do you know it is a fact that a man, seated quietly in an easy chair on his front porch on a summer evening, may be sinning against God and man? Yes, it's true, for, as he sits there in the silence, he can hate another man with a bitter hatred; he can plan to rob him or burn his house or slander him or even take his life. And the worst of it all is that if he allows such thoughts to rent a room in his head it may not be long before his evil designs have become awful deeds. "Not many boys or girls think such terrible things, but thoughts of this kind are only the little bad thoughts allowed to grow year after year in the head and in the heart. And do you know, also, that if you allow these little bad thoughts to live in your head and heart for a while, they get so bold and 'sassy' that they insist on taking possession of the best room of your head and the parlor of your heart and defy you to put them out? The only thing to do is to throw them out the very first time they come in. [Illustration: Fig. 7 (In each instance, the upper picture shows how the drawing will look when partly finished.)] "Let us take a walk down-street and mix with the crowd. Every person whom we see is thinking about something, even though he doesn't say a word, and we believe, as we look into the faces we meet, that we can tell just what kind of thoughts some of them have. Here, for instance, is a man with a face something like this: [Draw the sour face, completing the first step, Fig. 7.] He looks grouchy; perhaps he is vicious, and we avoid brushing against him. Perhaps he has lost money in a business deal; perhaps he wanted a political position and didn't get it; perhaps a supposed friend has proven untrue; perhaps his disappointment, whatever it is, has made him sour and crabbed. But he passes on, and we meet other faces. Here comes a man who looks something like this: [Draw the happy face, completing Fig. 8.] He doesn't look as if he had a care in all the world, does he? And yet we may find that he, too, has lost money in a business transaction that was full of promise--that he, also, has failed to win a political race; that he has been mistreated by a supposed friend. And yet, through it all, he has never lost sight of the sunshine. He has learned many a valuable lesson from each of his disappointments, and perhaps he has had a good many more of them than the other fellow ever knew. [Illustration: Fig. 8 (The lower view shows the appearance of the drawing completed.)] "Now, what has made the difference in these two men? Their thoughts have made the difference. The grouch has, for years, entertained grouchy thoughts. The sunshiny man has cultivated the habit of seeing the bright side of things. That's all there is to it. "How about you, boys? And you, girls? What kind of thoughts do you think? I said, you remember, that if bad thoughts get into your head and heart, they stick there defiantly. But, listen! If you let good thoughts into your head and heart, they, too, will settle down and make their home with you and your happiness is assured. "Don't get into the habit of growling because the street car is two minutes late. Thank your lucky stars that there is a street car to come at all! "Learn to be happy. A smiling face is welcome everywhere. People scamper away from a scowling countenance, especially if the owner of it insists upon telling his woes and troubles. "Remember that happiness depends not upon how many burdens we worry about, but upon how many blessings we are glad about--it depends not upon what we have, but upon what we enjoy. God says, 'Let the wicked forsake his ways and the _unrighteous_ man _his thoughts_'--that is, his unrighteous thoughts. Why? Because God knows that vulgar thoughts make vulgar men, and evil thoughts make evil men. So boys, make a practice of chasing them out of your heads as you would drive a snake out of your bedroom." THE CHRISTMAS STOCKINGS --Christmas --The Needy It Is Well to Remember the Poor at Christmas, but it is Infinitely Better to Be a True Friend Every Day. THE LESSON--That the true Christmas spirit is that which causes us to remember the needy always, whether their need be for the necessities of life or for the love of a real friend. Too many of us are inclined to shower our gifts and our good wishes upon the needy at the glad Christmas season, and then neglect this great field of service throughout another twelve-month period. ~~The Talk.~~ "As we go out upon the street today everybody seems to be happy and full of laughter and good cheer. People who usually pass us by without speaking at all or who merely nod without as much as a smile, act today as if they knew us very well; they smile real widely and say 'Merry Christmas!' just as heartily as they know how, and we respond to the greeting with a 'Same to you!' with an inner feeling of friendliness that somehow surprises us. It is a time when nearly every heart is warmed, and we find our greatest joy in seeing how happy we can make other folks. In every home where children are to be found--and there the Christmas spirit is the merriest--we see the stocking all hung in a row, and we are just as anxious to fill them as the owners are to have them filled. [Draw the three stockings, completing Fig. 9.] [Illustration: Fig. 9] "Here they are. And when Susie and Johnnie and little Bob come scrambling downstairs on Christmas morning their eyes sparkle with delight and our hearts warm with Christmas gladness as we join in their merriment. "But there are other homes. And other stockings--stockings not so warm, not so good--stockings that are darned and patched and worn like this. [With broad side of black crayon change the stockings of Fig. 9 to resemble those of Fig. 10.] In the atmosphere of Christmas joy in our own comfortable homes, do we sometimes over-look the boys and girls in the poorer homes who won't have much of a Christmas unless we fill these poor, patched little stockings with gifts to show that someone cares? I don't believe there is a boy or a girl here who is selfish enough to refuse to do such a little thing to bring a glad Christmas into a poor home. All we need is to be told where to go and what to do. [Doubtless you will have planned a way for the children to give remembrances to the poor; this may be presented in a word at this time, reserving the details for the close.] [Illustration: Fig. 10] "'At Christmastide the open hand Scatters its bounties o'er sea and land; And none are left to grieve alone, For Love is Heaven and claims its own.' "Truly, the Christmas spirit is upon us today. But stop--! Will it vanish tomorrow? Will we forget to be kind to those about us next week, next month, next summer? Will we forget that these same little worn, patched stockings are there in the same needy homes, and that the boys and girls may need our friendship and help more when it is summer than they do now when so many willing hands are extended to help them? "I hope we shall not forget. Let us remember that the best gifts, ofttimes, are not those which we can see and touch. The truest gifts are those of love and companionship and service--the same fellowship which Jesus gave to the poor when he was among men. It seems as if His heart always went out to those in need, and He helped them, not with gifts which fade and wear out and are soon cast aside, but with words and deeds which told them that He would be a true friend even to the end of the world. 'Christianity,' says Henry Drummond, 'wants nothing so much as sunny people, and the old are hungering more for love than for bread. The Oil of Joy is very cheap, and if you can help the poor with the Garment of Praise, it will be better than blankets." Dr. Henry D. Chapin expresses the same thought when he says, 'The cry of the ages is more for fraternity than for charity. If one exists, the other will follow, or, better still, will not be needed.' "Says J. R. Miller, 'Wanting to have a friend is altogether different from wanting to be a friend. The former is mere natural human craving. The latter is the life of Christ in the soul.' "At no better time than today can we choose to plant again the seed of true friendship in our hearts. Let us cultivate it and nurture it until it blooms forth into friendship for everyone who may be helped by the love of Christ through us." THE KEY TO FAILURE --Temperance Day --Appetite Strong Drink Opens the Gate to Destruction and Bars the Way to Success. THE LESSON--That strong drink robs its victims of the ability to solve the problems of life. This temperance lesson deals with the curse of strong drink in especial reference to its connection with the material success of the individual. Specific opinions of several well-known representative men are quoted. ~~The Talk.~~ "Nearly every man carries in his pocket a bunch of keys. [Write the word 'Key,' completing Fig. 11.] When a professional man, for instance, reaches his office in the morning, he may unlock his office door with one key; with another key he may unlock his desk; with another he may unlock a drawer in the desk; and then, having opened his safe, he may use still another key to unlock his strong box. At night he may look carefully to see that each of these things is again carefully locked before he goes home. And so, we see, keys are for two purposes--to unlock and to lock. [Illustration: Fig. 11] "Most keys are made of metal and are in our own keeping and subject to our own will, but there is another key of which I shall speak, which goes before many a man, working entirely independent of him. And as it goes, it locks the doors which he wishes to enter, and it unlocks many another door which he does not want to enter and forces him to go through it. I will draw the picture of this key. [Starting at the final stroke of the letter Y, continue the line, and ending with the letters W-H-I-S. Then add the lines to complete Fig. 12.] [Illustration: Fig. 12] "Let us see for a moment what this key does. It locks the door to health and opens the door to disease. Sir Andrew Clark, one of England's greatest physicians, says: 'I am speaking solemnly and carefully in the presence of truth, and I will tell you that I am considerably within the mark when I say to you that, going the round of my hospital wards today, _seven out of every ten_ owed their ill-health to strong drink.' "And again: This key bars and locks the way to good positions, where men may earn the money needed to keep themselves and their families provided with the necessities of life. Many of the great corporations are refusing to hire men who drink. Whiskey has locked the door to opportunity for them. The Pennsylvania Railroad Company, operating one of the greatest systems in the world, has issued a statement to the men who run the trains on its lines which includes these words: 'Taking one drink of intoxicating liquor is like running passed the red light. It is unsafe. The possible line between safety and danger in the use of alcoholic drink is dangerously unstable. _Safety_ lies back of _total abstinence_. The normal man has no legitimate use for alcohol as a beverage, and he has no right to render himself abnormal by its use when lives are dependent upon his efficiency. None but normal men should run railway trains. The traveling public has unqualified right to demand and expect none less safe.' This statement deals, not with the moral side, but with the fact that a man who drinks unfits himself for any position of responsibility, especially if entrusted with human life. "This key also locks and bars the way to a life of purity and honor. Says the chaplain of the Ohio penitentiary, Dr. Starr: "The records show that 1,250 persons have been received into this institution during eighteen months; of these, 930 acknowledged themselves to have been intemperate.' And the Massachusetts Bureau of Labor adds the statement that of 27,000 crimes committed in that state, eight out of every ten were due to intemperate habits, or occurred while the criminal was under the influence of liquor. "We need not go further to show that this key is truly the key to failure--failure in the attempt to attain to anything pure, right and honorable. "No one knows this better than the manufacturer of strong drink. 'The handwriting is on the wall,' says T.M. Gilmore, president of the Model License League. 'Our trade today is on trial before the bar of public sentiment, and unless it can be successfully defended before that bar, I want to see it go down forever.' "In no better way can we help to bring this victorious end than by lending our every influence to cause the world to turn to the true Christian life, for then follows 'love out of a pure heart and a good conscience and faith unfeigned.' Paul does not say, 'Shun that which is evil;' he says _abhor_ it. May this ever be our attitude toward this giant evil." A BUSY LIFE --Pluck and Luck --Industry A Plucky American Boy Whom the Whole World Delights to Honor. THE LESSON--That pluck and perseverance and a "Try--Try--Again" Spirit can laugh at obstacles and change them into stepping stones. The following talk may suggest to many of the younger hearers the secret of the true greatness of Benjamin Franklin, who is considered by many our foremost American. ~~The Talk.~~ "Some people trust to luck to carry them through the world. Like Dickens' Micawber, they're 'always waiting for something to turn up.' I have heard of a man who was so pleased at finding a big horseshoe that he placed it over his bedroom door. The next morning, as he closed the door, he jarred the horseshoe from its place and it fell and struck him such a blow on the head that he was in the hospital for a week. Such results as this are likely to come when we depend upon luck. Let us remember that luck never figures in God's calculations. "I have seen people looking for something like this in their front yards. [Quickly draw the outlines of the four-leaf clover in black, and fill in the outlines with broad sweeps of green. With black, trace the veins lightly, and then put in the letters to spell 'Luck.' This completes Fig. 13.] What is it? Yes, a four-leaf clover. And when I saw them looking for it, I thought that they could have been doing a great deal more good by pulling the weeds in their back yards. [Illustration: Fig. 13] "But today we shall talk about a boy who never depended upon luck at all. This boy had a pair of sharp eyes, and whenever he saw anything to do, he did it. His name was Benjamin Franklin. Did you ever hear of him? Yes, I thought so. This boy worked for his older brother in a printing office in Boston, but the brother used to flog him and treat him roughly. Benjamin knew that they could never get along well together, so he went away to Philadelphia. "In this great city he saw many things which other boys before him had not seen. He saw that the printing art had wonderful possibilities in it; he studied and worked hard to improve the business, and today all of the printers call him the father of the art of printing. He saw that he ought to know other languages besides English, and so he became a master of French, Italian and Latin--and luck' hadn't a thing to do with it! He saw on every hand many chances to help other people. This prompted him to organize the first police force and the first fire company in the United Colonies; he organized a military company; he paved the streets of Philadelphia and taught the people how to keep them clean; he founded a hospital; he invented the first practical stove; he accepted many public positions in his earlier years, including that of member of the general assembly of the colonies, deputy postmaster of Philadelphia and commissioner to treat with the Indians. "He saw that the common people should have a better chance to get an education, and so he published for many years Poor Richard's Almanac, which provided them with much that they should have known; he founded the first circulating library, helped to establish the University of Pennsylvania, and brought into existence the American Philosophical Society. "He saw the lightning, just as millions before him had done; but, unlike the others, he believed the brilliant display was the evidence of a great and unseen power--electricity. By the use of his now famous kite and key he proved it to be so, and for a time he was the only man in the world who knew what lightning really is. "He saw at the time of the impending Revolutionary war the need of someone to go to England to intercede in the interests of the colonies; and so, when the choice fell upon him, he did not shirk the responsibility. "He saw many later duties which caused him to become a member of the Continental Congress which made George Washington the commander-in-chief of the Colonial army; he helped to write the Declaration of Independence; he was a commissioner of peace to confer with the British General Howe; he was a member of the commission to seek the aid of France; he was America's first postmaster general. [Illustration: Fig. 14] "_Did Benjamin Franklin depend upon luck?_ Never! His was, rather, a five-leaf clover, like this: [Quickly add the fifth leaf to the drawing, and insert the letter P, completing Fig. 14.] 'Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do,' says the Bible, 'do it with thy might.' I believe Benjamin Franklin fulfilled this command; and we can do it ourselves, if we will. He never stopped to 'knock on wood' to prevent bad luck! He had better sense. And I hope we have, too." THE KEG and the BUCKET --Temperance Day --Purity A Temperance Talk Devoted to the Teaching of the Principles of Purity of Life. THE LESSON--That water as a beverage stands for purity and blessing, while spirituous liquors are always an emblem of impurity and blight. The chalk talk here outlined contains in its illustration an interesting transformation which always commands close attention. The truth it presents cannot fail to leave an impression. It may be well to vary the application of the temperance thought to suit your local conditions. ~~The Talk.~~ "I am going to outline for you a picture of an object which is everywhere recognized by good people as a symbol of defiance of the law, a suggestion of immorality, of poverty, depravity and death. [Draw beer keg, completing Fig. 15.] In plain words, it is a beer keg, and its close companions are the whiskey barrel, the wine cask and the demijohn! It well represents the liquor traffic as a whole--that terrible curse which holds in its grip so many men and boys, whose lives might be bright, happy and successful but for its blighting, fatal grasp. [Illustration: Fig. 15] "No right-thinking man has a good word for the business which makes good men into brutes, transforms honorable citizens into murderers, and brings many a prosperous family to rags and misery. The saloon-keeper himself has no good word for the business; he merely defends it because it makes for him a good living with little work on his part. Ofttimes he will not drink a drop himself or allow any of his employes to touch liquor. He is in the business for the money he can get out of it, not caring how much poverty and penury others get. With a low idea of his duty toward his fellow-beings, he argues that as long as men and boys will drink the deadly stuff which he sells, he as well as anyone else, has a right to profit by their weakness and degradation. "'Oh,' says Shakespeare, 'that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!' "Whenever we hear of a state of lawlessness and anarchy in a city or a nation, we can rightly conclude that the government of that city or that nation has lost control of its people. When a man becomes a drunkard and does things which he never thought of doing before, we can rightly conclude that his brain has failed to govern him and that it has been deposed by the forces of base appetite. He has lost control of himself. That is why a drinking man cannot in these days secure a good position with the large corporations, railroads, manufactories and the immense commercial institutions. The great employers of men have learned that they cannot trust men who, as Shakespeare says, have 'put an enemy into their mouths to steal away their brains.' Brains are in demand everywhere--brains and steady nerves. "So, wherever we look, we see young men learning that the way of the saloon is the way of failure. If they can only be halted in their way and be made to look for a moment upon another symbol--a symbol of purity and true service--they might be saved from the bitter path into which they are stepping. [Revise drawing by adding the bail and the lettering, completing Fig. 16. If time will allow of the singing of a verse of 'The Old Oaken Bucket,' the innovation will prove a pleasing touch.] [Illustration: Fig. 16] "Perhaps the warnings against liquor have become commonplace to you. Perhaps you feel that you do not need to be told the story of the great curse. But if the warning comes echoing back to you in the time of temptation you will bless the hearing of it, for it may mean everything to you and your loved ones and the generations to come. "It is the Master who said, 'And whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily, I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward.' But what may one lose when he puts the drunkard's glass to the lips of a young man? "Hear the voice of Solomon: 'The drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty, and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags.' 'Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.' "If Jesus held up to us a cup of cold water as the emblem of purity, let us never bring dishonor upon one of earth's greatest blessings. "'Traverse the desert, and then ye can tell What treasures exist in the cold, deep well; Sink in despair on the red, parched earth, And then ye may reckon what water is worth.'" --ELIZA COOK. TURN OVER A NEW LEAF --New Year's Day --Gladness The Psalmist Truly Says that "A Merry Heart Maketh a Cheerful Countenance." THE LESSON--That the wearing of a gloomy countenance is unpardonable and that "the smile that won't come off" is the kind that ought to come on. Laughter is catching. The following chalk talk will capture an audience and bring genuine smiles as nothing else, perhaps, in this book. It has been prepared for that purpose. While it is arranged here as especially appropriate for the beginning of the new year, it may be used with varying applications on many other occasions. ~~The Talk.~~ "There is a good deal of consolation in the words of Cowper, who truly declares that "'The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.' "Nevertheless, most of us ask for as little real sorrow as possible while we are treading the pathway that leads to eternal peace. [It is advisable to begin the drawing of Fig. 17 at this point, and continue the talk as the picture develops. It is suggested that the eyes be drawn first, then the mouth and nose, and, finally, the outer portions. It adds to the effect, too, to stop drawing at this point, allowing the people to study carefully the dull, gloomy expression of the face. Then, as if to put on the finishing touches, draw the lines of the forehead. These, of course, are the lines of the nose and mouth of the reversed face, but the audience will not suspect the 'trick' until it is revealed.] [Illustration: Fig. 17] "And yet, to judge from the way some of us act and look, it would seem that we rather enjoy a protracted case of the miseries! Some folks begin to fret as soon as they are out of bed in the morning; the early day brings its worries and cares, the noontide and the afternoon are filled with problems, and night finds them all fagged out and longing to take rest in sleep so as to get into condition to repeat the round of sorrows and cares which they are preparing for themselves for the next day. Little jealousies, petty rivalries, senseless envyings and useless fears bring wrinkles of care, which are very unbecoming; and, before we are aware of it, the years have overtaken us, and we advertise our inner selves by this outward kind of sign. [Display Fig. 17 complete. This finishes the drawing of both scenes or figures, since the second part is merely an inverting of Fig. 17.] "But, friends, you know, and I know, that all this--or most of it--is all foolishness. We know that 'as a man thinketh in his heart so is he.' If he thinks gloomy things, he will be a gloomy man. If he thinks glad things, he will be a happy man. So, let us consider this matter now at the beginning of the new year. Strange to say, smiling is a serious thing! It affects our influence, it means much to the happiness of those about us, it has a direct connection with the state of our health, and, therefore, with our material prosperity. It is true, of course, that we are bound to have our little annoyances and our depressing sorrows as we go through life; but, surely, we can avoid most of the troubles which keep us unhappy if we will but lift our thoughts above ourselves and employ our time in seeking to comfort and brighten the lives of those about us. Happiness is largely a habit, and we can do no better than to 'get the habit" and let others catch it from us. "Let us learn the truth that peace of mind is health to the body, and that it is worth more than we ever imagine. Joy is essential to the truly Christlike life. When the angel proclaimed to the shepherds, 'Behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people,' you and I were included, and we have not accepted that message of great joy, and Christ abides not in us if we do not reflect the sunlight which has come from above. "And so I am going to ask that we join together today in 'turning over a new leaf.' What do I mean? Simply this: To meet our troubles fairly and squarely, grasp them firmly and then completely overturn them; when lo! we shall find their threatenings, their warnings and their fearful aspects shall have faded away, and brightness and peace shall have taken their place. [At the beginning of this paragraph grasp the drawing at the bottom, tear it loose from the top, and hold it up before the audience, inverted, as in Fig. 18.] [Illustration: Fig. 18] "Truly, 'a merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance.' May yours remain so throughout the new year and ever after." TRUE SUCCESS --Lincoln's Birthday --Discouragement It is Exemplified by the Life of Abraham Lincoln--Stumbling Blocks and Stepping Stones. THE LESSON--That the very things which are obstacles in the way of many should be their stepping stones to the higher life. The life of Abraham Lincoln is so fraught with good lessons that it is difficult to select that which is of the greatest inspiration to the young. The illustration here given, however, points the way to true success as illustrated by the story of Lincoln's life. ~~The Talk.~~ "Every one of us is anxious to be a success. [Draw the word 'Success' in red, and the rays of light in orange.] "But many of us are discouraged and disheartened by seeing before us so many big 'ifs' in the way that we give up trying to gain the height toward which our eyes were once lifted. [Draw the wall, with the rocks obstructing the way; put in the letters 'I' and 'F,' and indicate the pathway. Your drawing will now resemble Fig. 19.] [Illustration: Fig. 19] "Some of us may say, 'IF I had not been born in such an obscure place or in such an obscure family, I might have been a great success.' "Another might say, 'IF my father had only had the means to give me a lift at the right time, I might have been a great success.' "Another might say, 'IF I had only had the chance to go to school when I was a boy, I might have obtained the education necessary to make me a great success.' "One other might say, 'IF I could only work out my plans without meeting with the discouraging opposition of those who ought to help me and co-operate with me, I might be a great success.' "Still another might say, 'IF I had only had the opportunities that other men have had, I might have been a great success.' "And so we might stand and look with discouraged hearts at the 'ifs' before us and stop dead still. "Well, now, let us look into this a little. Let us search the Scriptures and find a word of comfort. But search as we may, we find the word 'Success' there only once. Why only once? Probably because the Bible has a much bigger and better word, and that word is 'Life.' 'I am the Way, the Truth and the Life,' says the Master; and again, 'I am the Resurrection and the Life.' This wonderful word was often on His lips. To Him, success was life. To live was all that earth could desire. To live was to see in these stones--[Indicate the stones in the drawing]--not stumbling-blocks but stepping-stones to success. [Add the letters 'L' and 'E,' completing the word 'Life.'] When you and I see the true life, then will all our 'ifs' depart. [Illustration: Fig. 20] "Abraham Lincoln was one who saw these stones before him. How did he look upon them? "The obscurity of his birth was no 'if' to him--it was the foundation of his noble character. "The poverty of his early years was no 'if' to him--it was the thing which caused him to appreciate every blessing of after life. "The denial of his means to an education when a boy was no 'if' to him--it caused his maturer mind to hunger after learning, even in his later years. "The bitter opposition which he met throughout his tempestuous political career was no 'if' to him--it softened his nature and drew him nearer to the God of love in whom he placed his trust. "No one should envy him his opportunities, for he made every one of them himself, just as you or I may do. "It would seem to me, as I look at the life of this great man, that the secret of his success lay in his determination to make every stumbling block a stepping stone. In order to do it, he held steadfastly to the hand of God, when, it seemed, all other friends had failed. It was then that he said, 'I do the best I know--the very best I can--and I mean to keep right on doing so until the end.' "God has not yet given us wings to fly with, but He has given us feet to climb with, and if we use them for all they are worth, we can climb near enough to heaven's gate to step right in when the summons come. "Boys and girls, men and women, the opportunity for success--for Life--is given to each one of us, just as truly as it was given to Abraham Lincoln. We could not have taken his place. Perhaps he could not have taken yours or mine. It is for each of us to work out his own success, just as he did." THE FRUITS OF RICHES --Humility --Wealth If the Love of Gold Controls the Life Naught but Poverty of Soul Can Result. THE LESSON--That while wealth, honestly earned, may be a blessing, the life devoted to the getting of riches cannot hope for true happiness. The Scriptures do not condemn the possession of riches, but they do have some strong things to say against the wrongful attainment of wealth and the harmful use of money. The talk here presented is designed to impress this thought. In outlining the drawing be sure to place the lettering exactly as shown in the design. ~~The Talk.~~ "The Bible has a good deal to say about rich people and poor people. Solomon, it seems, thought it best to be neither poor nor rich, for he wrote, 'Give me neither poverty nor riches," and I believe that this sentiment would be that of most of us. At any rate, the richer he got, the farther he went from God. But we must have money--enough to meet the needs of our lives. We need it for the buying of our food, our clothing, our homes, our books and in a thousand other ways. But I hope that none of us will ever reach the point where the governing principle in our lives will be to get money for money's sake. "Money-madness seems to be the dominant characteristic of many people. They appear to think that wealth will gain for them all that may be desired to make life happy. We might illustrate the thought by saying that they sow or plant their money and hope that it will bring forth a fruitage of the blessings for which they long. [Draw the bag of money, the earth line, the stalk of the plant and the outline of the foliage, all with black.] And what do the possessors of riches expect as a harvest in return for the sowing of their wealth? First, let us put down Pleasure. [Put in the word Pleasure, using red for the lettering.] And they expect to be leaders in smart society, so we will add to the list Social Prestige. [Add Social Prestige.] They expect their associates to be impressed with the evidence of luxury in their palatial homes and in all they have and do. So we will add Luxury to the list. [Add Luxury.] And through it all they think they will possess that degree of satisfaction and contentment which we call comfort, so we will add this to the list. [Add Comfort.] And, finally, let us add a word to indicate that element which the wealthy sometimes possess in a worldly sense, representing their ability to direct the happiness or unhappiness of those who are less fortunate in their possession of worldly goods. That word is Power. [Add Power, completing Fig. 21.] [Illustration: Fig. 21] "Here, then, is the picture of the result as longed for by the possessors of riches, whose lives are devoted to the attainment of things of this world alone. "But, alas, how often are bright hopes shattered! 'He that maketh haste to be rich,' says Solomon, 'shall not be innocent.' A glance at the daily paper tells us how true it is that when the love of money takes possession of the heart, pleasure is driven out. How often, too, does the aspiring social leader find himself outrivalled in the foolish race, and social prestige vanishes. And with such experiences as these, the home of wealth loses the longed-for luxury, comfort and worldly power. And what has come to take the place of these which were only dreams? [With the broad side of the black crayon fill in solidly the portions of the foliage area, leaving only the word Sorrow. Add the words, "The love of money is the root of all evil," completing Fig. 22, which shows the root and the trunk of a tree that looks more like the tree of death than "The Tree of Life."] [Illustration: Fig. 22] "Such is too often the result of the love of money, which, as Paul tells us, 'is the root of all evil.' But, happily, there is another side to the matter. Many of the wealthy of the earth have blessed and are blessing mankind and in return are themselves blessed. In harmony with the thought, Dr. Van Dyke says: I do not mean to say that the possession of much money is always a real barrier to real wealth of mind and heart. Nor would I maintain that all the poor of this world are rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom. And if some of the rich of this world (through the grace of Him with whom all things are possible) are also modest in their minds and ready to be pleased with unbought pleasures, they simply share in the best things which are provided for all.' "None of us may ever be rich in earthly possessions, but even the strife after the money necessary for our actual needs may shut out our vision of the things of greater value. Let us always hold fast to that which is good, remembering always that a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches. "Let us put out of our lives all envy, all jealousy, all desire for the artificial, and learn the lessons of humility, patience, confidence and good cheer which are all about us if we but turn our faces and our hearts toward them." THE CHRIST-CHILD --Christmas --Giving A Lesson From the Story of the Shepherds and the Wise Men. THE LESSON--That the Light that was shed when the Christ-Child came to earth now brightens the farthest corners of the world. Nothing is more beautiful and impressive than the story of the Christ-Child. It cannot be repeated too often, and it is essential at Christmas time. ~~The Talk.~~ "Let us hear once more the wonderful story of the shepherds who played such a large part in the first Christmas. [Read Luke 2:8-18. When you reach the words, 'Let us now go even unto Bethlehem,' draw the lines representing the city, using brown crayon. On completing the reading of verse 18, continue the narrative by reading Matthew 2:1-2 and 2:9-11. When you reach the words, 'the star which they saw in the east went before them and stood over where the young child was,' draw the star, with its rays, in orange, completing Fig. 23. This ends the reading.] [Illustration: Fig. 23] "I wish we could picture to ourselves the scene in Bethlehem when Jesus was born. We are told that there was such an immense crowd there that Joseph and Mary could find no shelter in the inn, but we should know that this does not mean a hotel, for they had nothing of this kind in Bethlehem. Indeed, it would not have been required, because all that the thousands of visitors needed was the permission to sleep on the floor on their own mats which they brought with them. This is the custom even today. It was a sacred duty of every Jew to give shelter to his countrymen who were on a journey, so, instead of an inn, the real meaning is that there was no room for them in any house in Bethlehem. It is probable that the stable in which they sought refuge was a rough cave, such as are to be found in that neighborhood now. So, let us note at the beginning that Jesus, the Savior, was born amidst the most humble surroundings, and also that when the angels came to announce His birth, they did not choose to tell the good news first to the rich and the powerful, but brought the wonderful story to the humble shepherds who watched their flocks by night on the hillside. But it was not to stop there. No, God wanted the world to know that the kingdom of love which came with the birth of Jesus was for the high and the lowly alike. So, by the brilliant star He guided the wise men from the east to worship Him and place at His feet the precious jewels and costly gifts, which show that they were men of great wealth and wisdom. "So, we see, the coming of Jesus was to bring a blessing to all men. It was to be a kingdom of love which would include the whole wide world, 'for God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that _whosoever_ believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' "Let us remember that God 'gave' His Son to the world--it was the first and greatest Christmas Gift. We can never repay Him for this marvelous expression of His love. All we can do is to endeavor every day of our lives to do good and thus give as best we can of the blessings which have come from Him. "At Christmas time we seem to have no difficulty in showing kindness to those about us. The earth is filled with His spirit, so that in millions of churches and homes throughout the world today we find a reflection of the star of Bethlehem in the countless shining candles and glittering electric lights which adorn the Christmas trees. [Draw candle flames and rays in orange. Draw tree in green, and use brown to fill in the trunk and the foundation. This completes Fig. 24.] [Illustration: Fig. 24] "Yes, everywhere that we see the sparkling candles or little electric lights, let us think of them as reflecting the light of the star of Bethlehem, to guide us to Him, just as the wise men were guided to that humble manger-cradle in Bethlehem. Many there are, we know, who make merry at Christmas, while shutting Jesus out of their lives. They know not the blessing of the warmth of Christian love which He brought into the world, which is for them, if they will only accept it. "But let us look at our own lives and see if we are reflecting the true spirit of Christmas. Some one has said that true Christmas _giving_ is true Christmas _living_--living not merely at Christmas time in fellowship with all, but throughout the year, with no difference in days excepting that with their succession we may grow more and more humble and faithful--more like Him." SEEDTIME AND HARVEST --Sowing --Reaping "Whatsoever a Man Soweth, That Shall He Also Reap." THE LESSON--That the happiness or the unhappiness of middle life and old age are the result of the thoughts and deeds of early life. The teacher who can help the little children to avoid the entertainment of wrong thoughts and the teacher who can eliminate from the minds of the youth the belief that the "sowing of wild oats" is a harmless--perhaps necessary--touch of life, may feel that he has accomplished much. The teaching carries with it the necessity of supplanting wrong thoughts with right ones. ~~The Talk.~~ "Some of the great declarations of the Scriptures have become so familiar to us that we speak the words and lose much of their significance. One great truth which seems to have lost its power with many is that verse in the letter of Paul to the Galatians, in which he says, 'Be not deceived; God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.' "What does Paul mean? He means simply this, that your life and mine, like the life of the world of nature about us, has its seedtime and its time of harvest--that if the seedtime of our early life finds us planting good thoughts, kindly deeds and loving words, the harvest of the later life will be peace and blessedness; if the seedtime of life finds us sowing evil thoughts, bad deeds and ungodly words, the harvest will be remorse, bitterness and the suffering which must come from such a sowing. "Everybody who lives fifty years or more has two looks at life; first, a forward look, and, last, a backward look. It is wise to plan in advance for the backward look by living so that the retrospect will be gratifying and satisfying and comforting, and not of a kind to bring mourning over wasted years and lost opportunities for doing good. [Illustration: Fig. 25] "Let us consider the lesson of nature for a moment. In the springtime the farmer plants the kernels of corn shelled from ears like this. [Draw the ear of corn, making first a solid yellow background for the ear and then putting in the fine lines with brown or black.] He has every reason to believe that when the harvest time comes he will reap a crop of many hundredfold, because each kernel is expected to send up a little green shoot, like this, and each stalk is capable of bearing at least one ear of corn. [Quickly draw the ground line in brown and the corn shoot in green, completing Fig. 25.] And this shoot will grow larger and larger until the stalk is completed, and as time goes on and the harvest time comes, the corn will hang in generous ears thereon. [With broad sweeps of green, and, if you wish, a touch of brown, complete Fig. 26. This includes covering part of the ear with green to form the husk.] Note especially this fact, that the farmer, when he plants the seed, believes that God will send the summertime, when the corn will grow to its fullness, and also the autumn, when the harvest is ready. Just think what would happen if we had no summer or autumn--just the springtime. Do you not see that we would soon starve? We would plant the seed and there would be no harvest. [Illustration: Fig. 26] "Let us see how very much like this are our very own lives. We do not have a springtime and a summer and an autumn and a winter of life every year. No, we have but one of each during our lives, if we reach old age. Springtime is our childhood, summer is our young manhood and young womanhood, autumn is our middle age and winter comes when the hair is white and the footsteps faltering. The first part of a full life is the seedtime, and the latter half is the harvest-time. Some of us may think that we may, while we are young, form habits that are bad and expect to get rid of them before the harvest-time. Still others of us do not seem to find out very early in life that there is a seedtime and a harvest-time, and we realize it only after we have reached the harvest period, and then we cannot change the character of the seed we have to reap. "But that which is true of the one who has sown the seeds of wrong in his younger years is just as true of him who has sown good seeds in his childhood and youth. There is no more comforting thought than that which comes with the assurance that God will send the rich harvest if we sow early in life the seeds of purity of living and the seeds of loving kindness. "The wrong thoughts which try to crowd into our childhood and youth are like the weeds which threaten to destroy the good grain, and sometimes succeed. Let us watch them carefully and uproot them. "The Christian welcomes the thought that there is to be a harvest-time. The sinner hates the thought; he would that his entire life be a seedtime; but it cannot be. The law of seedtime in life is just as firmly fixed as are the seedtime and harvest of nature. Let us learn the lesson. It means life or death to you and to me." THE TWO FLAGS --Rally Day --War Both of Them Inspire Us to the Best Living--An Illustration with Music. THE LESSON--That the same spirit which brings success in war must animate the fighters against evil. Rally Day, which is observed at the opening of the autumn activities of most schools, has become one of the greatest days of the Sunday School year. It should be made a glad occasion of reunion and resolution. This talk is unique, in that it combines music with the speaking and the drawing. ~~The Talk.~~ "It was fifty years ago, boys and girls, that the terrible war between the North and the South was in progress. On both sides the soldiers were bravely loyal to their cause, for the reason that each great army believed it was right; each side rallied round its flag--and loyalty was the thing most necessary. In most conflicts, as in the case of one nation fighting with another, it is only necessary to bring a war to a point where the weaker is convinced of the superior strength of its enemy. Then the war ends and the weaker is still a nation and has lost only that which was destroyed during the course of the struggle, together with that which may he demanded as concessions by the victorious army. Both nations retain their existence as before. It was not so with the struggle between the North and the South. Before this terrible war could end, it was necessary that one or the other of the fighting governments be wiped out entirely _as a nation_. Otherwise there could never have been any peace. This is what made the war one of the most terrible in the history of the world. "It was a time when loyalty was demanded by both sides to the conflict, when men were summoned to rally round their flags. On the side of the North the soldiers bravely gathered in hosts of hundreds of thousands around this flag, which is now beloved throughout our reunited states (while the South was just as true and brave and sincere in the belief that they were right, in their convictions, and for which they fought). [As you draw the United States flag, in red, white and blue, Fig. 27, have the school sing "The Red, White and Blue," or have the song sung as a solo or played by orchestra, pianist or organist. This makes a very effective feature, as some time is required to draw the flag. Be careful to construct the flag properly. To save time, use only thirteen stars.] [Illustration: Fig. 27] "Why did the boys in blue rally round this flag? It was not because of its beauty, even though we think it the handsomest flag in all the world; it was not because it was made of valuable materials. No--it was because it stood for something--for liberty, for unity. And they knew that in order to uphold the principles for which it stood they must cling together and fight manfully. Each might fight bravely by himself, but disaster would come unless they worked together and in harmony. "We, today, are like the boys in blue in the dark days of the war. We, too, have a flag which we love dearly--the banner of the cross. [While you draw the conquest flag, use the song "The Banner of the Cross" in the same manner as before. When completed your drawing will resemble Fig. 28. Use blue for the body of the flag and red for the cross.] [Illustration: Fig. 28] "This is the banner round which our school rallies today. We have come together once more to strengthen our army of boys and girls to fight against wrong. And our littlest fighters are the best fighters we have. Why? Because it is a warfare that never ends and the little ones have many more years in which to fight than the older ones have. And, strangest of all, the weapons most effective are kindness, love, prayer and steadfastness--these will drive away the great enemy of us all--sin. The boys in blue rallied around their flag because it represents our country, the land we love so well. We rally around this flag because it represents everything that is best here on earth and in heaven. Let us be loyal to these two beautiful banners. We cannot be true to one without being true to the other. "Let us make this school year the best we ever knew. We can do it if we will be true to everything for which these two flags stand--the red for love, the white for purity and the blue for loyalty." [It is suggested that the pupils be presented with small American and conquest flags as souvenirs. These are inexpensive and may be procured from Sunday school supply houses. Celluloid buttons, displaying the two flags, would be acceptable souvenirs of the day.] THE CROSS --Salvation --Repentance An Illustration Which Has Inspired Many to Hopefulness and Victory. THE LESSON--That a complete surrender to Christ is the only successful way to purify a sinful life. This illustration, in varied form, has been used by speakers for many years. It is here given, however, in a new presentation, with a hope that the revision may be helpful to others in spreading its usefulness. If paper is used, attach several thicknesses to your drawing board and provide yourself with a sharp penknife. If used as a blackboard illustration, an eraser will be needed. ~~The Talk.~~ "It is a good deal safer, boys, for you to walk the streets with your thumb in your mouth than with a cigarette there. The thumb can't hurt you, but the cigarette is bound to. I heard, once upon a time, of a young man who lived in a good home--maybe just as good as yours--who fell into the cigarette habit. I can't understand why a boy, when he knows what a terrible thing the cigarette habit is, will not leave the thing alone. But, like some whom you may know, this boy failed to heed the many warnings and, before he was aware of it, the deadly habit had him firmly in its grasp. I will ask one of the boys to please spell the word 'Habit' for me. [As each letter is repeated put it down on the drawing sheet. If you have previously outlined the entire picture, the location of the cross will determine the location of the letter T, in the center, as the T is later changed into a cross. Place the other four letters in proper relation to the letter T, completing Fig. 29.] [Illustration: Fig. 29] "Now, then--one day this young man awoke to the fact that he must rid himself of his terrible habit if he would amount to anything in the world. He was working in a distant city, and there, alone, how do you suppose he started in to get rid of his habit? He did it this way: He made up his mind to wipe it out gradually by cutting down the number of cigarettes which he smoked each day. So he started in. The first day he smoked two less than he did the day before--cut out some, you see. [With your penknife cut out the letter H and throw it away.] You will observe that although he cut out some of his habit, he had A BIT left. The next day he did the same thing, by cutting out two more. [Cut away the letter A.] Although he had a BIT of the habit left, he felt somewhat encouraged and declared to himself that he could cut it all out if he kept at it. But he didn't know how hard it would be to 'keep at it.' The next day he cut out a little more [Cut away the letter B], but the desire to smoke the deadly cigarette was still strong. He was inclined to give up in discouragement, for he had now found that cutting _out_ wasn't cutting _off_ and that he still had IT. Not until now did he feel his helplessness, for the habit was still strong upon him. He needed a friend--a friend who could help him in his earnest wish to become once more true and pure. And a friend came. It was one who knew Christ and His power to save everyone who turns to Him for help. Clearly this friend revealed to him the truth, that if he would master his habit he must master himself. Boldly he took the glad step, and, like all humble followers of Jesus, he gave himself into His loving care, to guide and to direct his life. With this step came active work for Christ, and it was then that the letter I was removed [Cut out the I] and a new vision burst on his sight, for the last remnant of his enemy faded away in the transformation of his life to Christian service. [Give the T a touch with black, converting it into a cross; then continue the drawing to complete Fig. 30. Use black for the hill and circle; outline the cross in red; use orange in broad strokes for the rays emanating from the cross.] [Illustration: Fig. 30] "This was the vision. It can come to every boy and girl. It has come to countless thousands. To this boy of whom we speak it came to save him from failure and death. No longer did the dread habit control him. The battle was won, not by his own strength, but through Christ, who strengthened him. Such strength will be yours every time you need it to help and to keep you. "And let us think for a moment of the great service of the friend who led this young man to see the vision. Are we a friend to those who need us? 'Brethren,' says Paul, 'if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of meekness, considering thyself lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another's burdens.' "May we ever be ready to lend a helping hand." EASTER LILIES --Easter --Resurrection Their Introduction into America has Spread Perfume and Beauty Everywhere. THE LESSON--That, like the lily, Christ gave up His life that His followers should multiply in the earth. It is difficult, as teachers of children are aware, to impart the significance of Easter to those who are too young to be acquainted with death and the hope of a resurrection. Many teachers find it best to confine the thought to the phenomena of nature as revealed in plant life and to make such applications to the spiritual as conditions seem to permit. Easter is the most precious day of the year, for without it there would be no Christmas, because Christmas is celebrated only as the birthday of Him who arose from the dead. Without it, the world would be in the darkness of despair and disappointment which possessed the disciples as they turned from the cross to resume their former occupations or to hide themselves from the taunts of their tormentors. Hence, we must make the best possible use of it. This illustration possesses no new thought; in fact, there is nothing new except as we put into it the newness of our own enthusiasm and earnestness. ~~The Talk.~~ "On this beautiful Easter morning I want to tell you of a lady who has done a good deal to help us enjoy this day. But for her, I believe, we would not have had any of these lovely lilies which represent the purity of the life of the risen Savior. I do not know the name of this lady. But I do know that one day she stepped from a steamer at a wharf in her home city of Philadelphia, and that she had been on a visit to the Bermuda Islands, which are six hundred miles out in the Atlantic Ocean. Perhaps you know that the Bermuda Islands are noted as the place where they raise very large onions, which are imported to the United States. An onion, you know, is a bulb. Well, this lady carried with her two bulbs. They weren't Bermuda onions, either, as they were too small for that. She took these two bulbs to a friend who was a florist and asked him to plant them. [Draw the bulb in black. Fig. 31.] This was in the year 1875. The bulbs soon sent up strong green shoots and after a while blossomed as beautifully in their strange surroundings as they would have done in their former home. [Complete the drawing of the lily stalk in green; also the lilies, using fine black lines as outlines.] To us these beautiful flowers seem like old friends, because we have known them so long, but these Easter lilies, blossoming in Philadelphia, were the first to spread their sweet perfume in this country. [Illustration: Fig. 31] "Before that time, there was a lily known as the Easter lily, but whose right name is the lilium candidum or Madonna lily. This latter name comes from the fact that in one of the paintings of the Madonna she holds one of these lilies in her hand. It, also, is pure white, and similar in form to the Easter lily of today except that it is more bell-shaped. "During the first four years, these two bulbs in Philadelphia produced one hundred new bulbs. But what had become of the original bulbs? Ah, don't you know that when the bulb produces new bulbs the original bulb dies? Yes, when the new bulbs form at the sides of the old bulb, the one which gave them life perishes--in fact, the first bulb gives up its life that the others may live. [Draw the outer bulbs as in Fig. 32.] And while it does so, it spreads the perfume and the beauty of its flowers to delight everyone who sees them. [Illustration: Fig. 32] "From these first bulbs brought to America has come much of the beauty which is now so widespread at Easter time. The earth is full of the perfume of the Easter lily today. "How typical is this little illustration of the Savior whose resurrection we celebrate today. While He was on the earth, the beauty of his life brightened everyone, and all that time He knew that He must give up his life that we might live. "How typical also of our lives may this Easter lily be. What seems more lifeless than the bulb of a lily? Plant it, bury it, and lo! it is resurrected into a thing of wondrous beauty. That which seemed like its tomb has proven to be the gateway into true life. Thus our faith gives us the blessed assurance, with Paul, that 'if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him.'" THE WOUNDED TREE --Steadfastness --Constancy It Tells the Story of Courage and Patience that Approaches the Sublime. THE LESSON--That steadfastness in the right not only keeps the life upright but it restores the repentant one to righteousness. Each one of us needs the quality called steadfastness--not the obstinacy which denies us the right to judge fairly every condition about us, not the bigotry which prevents us from a charitable consideration of the views of other people--but the steady adherence to positive Christian principles which keep us constant in our faith and unwavering in our hold on heavenly virtues. ~~The Talk.~~ "Today, we are going to talk about steadfastness. And what does it mean to be steadfast? It means that with God's love to protect us against every temptation, we shall never willingly do anything to grieve Him. A life ruled by this power may grow to be so truly in harmony with the spirit of the Master that even though the waves of trouble dash wildly against it, it will continue to stand firmly, because it knows that 'Jehovah will give grace and glory and no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.' "We shall turn to Nature for our object lesson today. We might select the mighty oak, 'the king of the trees,' to represent the stalwart Christian life which not only withstands the storms, but which, as it strives against the winds, sends its mighty roots ever deeper into the earth; and we might choose as the type of the weak and sinful life the bay tree which does not send its roots deep into the earth and which is in danger of being torn away by every passing storm. But we shall look not at these but at two other trees which are described by Julia Ellen Rogers in her beautiful book, 'Among the Trees.' Says this author, 'There is something almost sublime in the patience and courage of plants!' Doesn't that sound strange? The idea of claiming that plants are courageous and patient! But the writer goes on to prove her words. One tree of which she writes was thrown prostrate upon the ground, crushed down by another tree which fell upon it. There it lay, with some of its roots torn loose from the earth and drying in the heat of the sun. It was left there in the forest to die. [As you speak, draw Step A of Fig. 33.] The writer tells also of a small poplar tree which grew on the sloping side of a mountain. One day, when there was a heavy landslide, the rush of boulders and earth tore the tree from its place and carried it a considerable distance down the side of the mountain. When it stopped sliding, it was left with its top downward, while its roots were lifted toward the sky. [Draw Step B of Fig. 33.] In the rush of the earth, a quantity of soil was spread over a part of the roots. If anyone had seen the tree then, he would have declared that it must surely die. [Illustration: Fig. 33] "But let us turn again to the book. The writer says, 'A tree thrown down may die of its wounds, but if it does not die it seeks to assume an erect position. As long as there is life, there is inspiration,' and, we might add, a reaching upward! Do you get the idea? Even if a tree is thrown down, wounded near to its death, _it tries its best to rise, to rise again--to stand upright_! This truth is shown by what these two trees did. This first one sent an entirely new tree straight up from the roots, while the old part lay on the ground dead. [Add lines to complete Step C of Fig. 34.] This second one was so determined to grow that it sent out a little sprout and started it to climb straight upward toward the sky; it developed into a strong tree. [Draw lines to complete Step D of Fig. 34; this finishes the drawing.] [Illustration: Fig. 34] "What a splendid lesson there is for us in these true stories from the forest and the mountain. Perhaps, in our weakness, we have not lived as closely to the Master as we should have done, and have become prostrated by our temptations. But there is one mighty to save. It is for us to reach upward in thought, in word and deed. Then will come the sunshine of his loving kindness to give us strength to rise toward Him. The tree, wounded and cast down, can never return to its first condition, but it does its best to rise. We, if we be prostrated by sin, can never rise to be as perfect as we would have been if we had shunned the evil thing; but in humility and service we may rise to receive the Master's 'Well done,' and we may be assured of His tender care if we do our best. "Let us ever keep our thoughts on Him who 'is able to succor them that are tempted.'" A FIRM FOUNDATION --Lincoln's Birthday --Fortitude The Secret of Lincoln's Steadfastness in the Midst of Tremendous Trials. THE LESSON--That the Bible teaching of childhood fortifies manhood. If it is not your custom to observe Lincoln's birthday, you will find this illustration valuable for Mother's day and other occasions. ~~The Talk.~~ "Probably no public man in America has ever been so severely assailed, so mercilessly scourged through the public press, as was Abraham Lincoln. Yet, through it all, while thousands were dying on the field of battle, while pestilence and want stalked through the states, and while the finger of hatred and scorn was pointed at him as the man who had brought devastation and death upon the nation, he stood steadfast, with a firm, unimpassioned face, never swerving an inch from the path of right and duty. Warring factions all about him, who tried in many ways to sidetrack him, failed in every attempt. To them he said, 'Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith let us do our duty as we understand it.' "In his memorable second inaugural address, he said, 'With malice toward none, with charity to all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us finish the work.' "In those tumultuous times, he often seemed to stand almost alone, like a lighthouse away out from the rock-bound coast, lashed by the fierce waves, driven by furious winds. [Draw the lighthouse in brown and the waves in blue, completing Fig. 35.] [Illustration: Fig. 35] "But the fiercest storms never moved our human lighthouse! Nor did the light which was to finally guide the Ship of State into a safe and peaceful harbor fail to send out its clear, pure rays. "The lighthouse which we have drawn must stand upon a firm and solid foundation to endure the force of the storm. Abraham Lincoln must have stood upon a firm and solid foundation in order to endure the fierce storms of the darkest years of the nation's history. Let us see what this foundation was made of. "We must go away back to the early days of his life until we come, in 1816, to a little cabin in Gentryville, Indiana--a one-room log cabin with a dirt floor and with no glass in the windows. Here lived Thomas Lincoln and his wife and two children, Sarah, aged ten years, and Abraham, eight years old. They had recently come from Kentucky. "Although Thomas Lincoln could neither read nor write, the mother taught her children to read the one book which they had, a Bible. The sweetness of the character of this gentle mother was reflected in the lives of her children. For three or four months, Abraham managed to attend the rude school of the neighborhood. He soon learned to know much of the Bible by heart. When he was ten years of age, the greatest calamity of his life occurred; his mother, always frail and delicate, passed from earth. Abraham Lincoln never recovered from the shock. The rude casket was placed in a grave near the cabin. Nine months after that sad day, Parson Elkins, whom the family had known in Kentucky, answered the repeated appeal of Abraham to come one hundred miles on horseback to preach a funeral sermon at the grave of Mrs. Lincoln. "Many years afterward, when the cares of state weighed heavily upon him, President Lincoln spoke the words which tell us the secret of his wonderful calmness and steadfastness. Listen to them: 'All that I am and all that I hope to be, I owe to my mother. Blessings on her memory!' "Do you understand, boys and girls, that it was the thing which this mother put into the life of her boy that made him a great and a good man? Do you now understand what Paul meant when he said that there is no other foundation on which to build your life 'than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ?' "Let us, then place the word, Christ, upon this rock, the unseen foundation upon which this great life stood so steadfastly. I leave with you the picture as a memory of the secret of a wonderful life. [Draw lines of rock and lower portion of the lighthouse; add the word "Christ," completing Fig. 36.] [Illustration: Fig. 36] THE BLESSEDNESS OF WORK --Labor --Diligence The Truly Happy Life is the One Filled With Honest Employment. THE LESSON--That in childhood and youth we should train ourselves to work. Work is the keynote of the successful life. "An idle brain is the devil's workshop." The talk is designed to catch the attention with a smile and then give an opportunity to present some valuable thoughts in the matter of diligence and the fulfillment of life's mission through honorable employment of the mind and the hands. ~~The Talk.~~ "Very often we read some very curious things. The manufacturer of one of the well-known breakfast foods, has placed this strange statement on the outside of each of the packages: 'Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are.' It seems impossible to do this, and the writer of the words probably had an entirely different way of explaining how he would do it from the way we will demonstrate it here on the drawing paper today. Let us suppose that we make the statement that we can tell what a man is if we know what he eats. All right, then, here is a case: There is a certain man who eats three meals a day out of a dish shaped something like this: [Draw lines representing Step 1 of Fig. 37.] [Illustration: Fig. 37] [Illustration: Fig. 38] "And then, let us suppose that the food he eats is heaped up like this: [Add lines to change the drawing to Step 2.] "Now, what do you think this food is? Ice cream? Ah, no, because when I tell you that this is steam rising from the food you will know it isn't ice cream: [Add lines to change the drawing to Step 3.] "But you will begin to see what it is when I tell you that these two lines represent chopsticks: [Add lines to change the drawing to Step 5.] What is it? Rice? Yes, it is rice, and we will label it in this way. [Add the letters, to change the drawing to Step 5.] "And now, having found out what the man eats, let us see if we can find out who he is. [Remove the sheet from the drawing board, hold it up and turn it over, exposing Fig. 38 to the audience. With the attention thus centered upon your work, the boys and girls will listen with eagerness to whatever else you may have for them.] "And so, I tell you of another thing that we can do. "Listen! Tell me what a boy thinks about, and I will tell you what kind of a man he will grow up to be. "The man who swears, thought of bad things and used bad words when he was a boy. The man who is a thief thought about dishonest things when he was a boy. The man who is happy and who finds it his delight to do good, formed the habit of thinking and doing good things when he was a boy. The man who loves his work learned to like to work when he was a boy. "And it is work that I want to speak about today. "There is no place in the world for a lazy boy or girl. Nobody wants them. Boys who hate to work are the kind that loaf around poolrooms and pollute the air with vile cigarette smoke and language which bespeaks an empty mind and a corrupt heart. "As Jesus is our great example in every way, He stands out strongly as our example of how a workman should delight in his employment. We should first find the thing which God intends that we shall do, for we are all fitted to do some things better than others, and we should then put forth our best efforts to learn to do that one thing as well as we can. We must center our thoughts upon the things we want to do. Life will then become a delight, because the world is always crying for workers who know how to do their work. The other kind is always to be found but never wanted. The demand is for the ones who know how. It is a significant fact that the first recorded words of Jesus Christ are, 'Wist ye not that I must be about my father's business?' This makes of Jesus a _Business boy_, and it was God's work he began so soon. "Gladstone, an inspiring example of the true workman, says, 'The thrift of time will repay in after life with usury of profit beyond your most sanguine dreams, and the waste of it will make you dwindle alike in intellectual and moral stature beyond your darkest reckoning.' "The happiest people in the world are those who are busy at something worth while, and the most miserable are those who are in idleness for lack of ambition or else are engaged in work which they themselves loathe because of its baseness." THE DOORWAY --Easter --Death The Resurrection of Christ the Hope of the World--An Easter Thought. THE LESSON--That death is but the doorway between the earthly life and the heavenly life of the believer. There is no new thought or theory concerning the dead in Christ. The most profound thinkers of the ages consider death as the entrance to a future life. The illustration here presented has been employed in various forms, but is given with the hope that it may, at Easter, help someone to a clearer conception of the reward which awaits the faithful. ~~The Talk.~~ "James Russell Lowell, dwelling upon the darkness of the cloud of sorrow which death brings into the home, wrote: "'Console, if you will, I can bear it, 'Tis a well-meant alms of breath; But not all the preaching since Adam Has made Death other than Death!' "How true! And God intended it should be so. Surely, it is His desire that we should love to live in the earth which He has given us. Surely, it is His desire that we should love those who are about us, and that we should mourn when the earthly parting comes. And yet, 'it is impossible,' as Jonathan Swift has said, 'that anything so natural, so necessary and so universal as death should ever have been designed by Providence as an evil to mankind.' With this thought, we may lift our faces once more, and as we dry our tears, forget the problems, the sorrows and the triumphs of earth as we ask ourselves the question, 'What shall _we_ be in the coming ages?' Compared with this question, all others sink into insignificance. Science, discovery, commercial achievement, social problems, the rise and fall of nations--all come to us and claim attention, but we brush them aside as we repeat, with passionate earnestness: What shall _we_ be--_we, ourselves_--in the coming time? "No matter how long we ask the question, no matter how earnestly we seek the solution, we shall not be satisfied with an answer, for God has not intended that we should know. The Apostle John, 'whom Jesus loved,' admits that 'it doth not yet appear what we shall be.' "Does it mean, then, that we should look ahead, and see nothing before us but the grave--the end of all? [Draw the grave, the headstone, and the word, "Death," with black, completing Fig. 39.] [Illustration: Fig. 39] "Perhaps the disciples, their hearts bowed down with grief and disappointment, held this thought as they saw the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea sealed upon the body of their beloved Master. But three days pass, and lo!--all is changed! The stone is rolled away and Christ has risen! How the message spreads! He is with them once again, and blessed days they are! But it is not for long, for heaven receives Him from their sight. Clearly, then, came to them again His words, 'I go to prepare a place for you, that where I am ye may be also.' What! They, too? Yes, for did he not say, also, 'Marvel not at this, for the hour is coming, in which all that are in their graves shall hear His voice and come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life.' "Today, there comes to us anew the revelation of the truth which came to the disciples on that wonderful resurrection morn. True, it may be that our pathway may lead more quickly than we think to this place which we call the grave. [Draw pathway to the grave.] True, there is a wall between human vision and the mysterious beyond. [Draw the wall.] But true, also, and gloriously true, is it that the grave opens to us the mysteries beyond the wall. [Draw line to change headstone to door]--while the pathway leads to--what? We can only suggest it here, with a few feeble lines. [Draw distant city, in red, using orange for rays of light. Add the word "Life," completing Fig. 40.] [Illustration: Fig. 40] "Someone has said that the night of life is the dawn of peace. Browning says that 'you never know what life means till you die.' Another has said, 'The dead are glad in heaven; the living 'tis that weep.' And all, though they point to the pathway beyond the wall as that toward which we should push forward, are firm in the knowledge that the earthly pathway of peace and love is more essential than this, for without it we cannot reach the other. 'There is but one way to get ready for immortality,' says Van Dyke, 'and that is to love this life, and live it as bravely and cheerfully and faithfully as we can.' And I know it is our prayer that we may do this in the fullness of the meaning of the words." THE PUZZLE PICTURE --God's Love --Nature When We Have Solved It, Let Us Learn to Find God in All His Works of Nature. THE LESSON--That we shall find the loving presence of God everywhere in nature, if we but seek Him. This illustration, dealing with a popular pastime, points to a great lesson, the fact that God is to be found in all our natural surroundings, if we but seek for Him in the same manner that we endeavor to find the unseen in other ways. ~~The Talk.~~ "How many of the boys and girls are fond of puzzle pictures? Hold up your hands. Ah, I thought so. I believe nearly everyone likes puzzles; we are attracted to many things which possess an element of mystery. So I am going to draw a little puzzle landscape today and see if we can get a lesson from it. [Draw the landscape, naming the objects as you complete them--the tree, the land, the water, the distant foliage, and so on, finishing Fig. 41. This completes the drawing for the entire talk.] [Illustration: Fig. 41] "Here is the story: A farmer, living near this spot, came down to the shore of the lake, untied his boat from its fastening, and rowed out onto the lake to fish. With the approach of dinner-time, the farmer's son came down to the shore to call his father to dinner. It seems that the father had rowed so far away that he could not hear the lad's voice, so the boy is still waiting here for him. Can you see the boy? Ah, yes, here he is. [Remove the sheet from the drawing board, reverse it, and hold it up for the inspection of the school. Fig. 42. After all have discovered the face of the boy, do not return the sheet to the drawing board, but lay it on the floor or elsewhere out of sight, as it has served its purpose and should not be allowed to detract from the attention needed for the remainder of the talk.] [Illustration: Fig. 42] "Yes, it is interesting to study puzzle pictures to discover in them the persons and objects which we may not see at the beginning. But I wonder how many of us do a similar thing when we see the real woods, the real lake and the real flowers? As in the picture, the boy's face was made by the outline of the tree and the shrubbery, and the hair was shown by the shading of the grass, so also may we find great hidden truths in nature all about us. The poet Bryant, in Thanatopsis says that "'To him, who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms she speaks A various language.' "And Shakespeare tells of finding 'tongues in trees, books in running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.' "Greatest of all is the fact that God is there. Every tree, every bush, every blade of grass, every flower, speaks of His presence--of His love and care for us. Dr. Van Dyke, in many beautiful passages pleads with us to turn our thoughts from the things which make us unhappy--the wild rush for fame and fortune, for the attainment of that which disappoints and discourages--to the quietness expressed by nature. In his book, 'The Ruling Passion,' we find this beautiful sentiment: 'It is the part of wisdom to spend little of your time upon the things that vex and anger you, and much of your time upon the things that bring you quietness and confidence and good cheer. A friend made is better than an enemy punished. There is more God in the peaceful beauty of this little wood-violet than in all the angry disputation of the sects. We are nearer heaven when we listen to the birds than when we quarrel with our fellow-men. I am sure that none can enter into the spirit of Christ, His evangel, save those who willingly follow His invitation when He says, 'Come ye yourselves apart in a lonely place and rest awhile.' "It is a most beautiful thought. Let us ponder it in our hearts. Let us seek to find God and His goodness to us in everything that He has placed about us. Many a man who says he has not found God in nature has failed to see the blessings which have come to him--which are his every moment of his life. The fruit, the flowers, the grains--everything that supplies him with the necessities of life and earthly happiness come from the hand of God. Let us feel that _all nature is a sort of puzzle picture_, and that by looking, looking, looking, we can find God in everything. And in finding Him, let us learn from nature the lessons of humility, of sacrifice, of joy and good cheer; for it is for this that God has given us these blessings. It is only when we thus seek Him that we may look 'through nature up to nature's God.'" THE HEART of the TROUBLE --Temperance Day --Sobriety A Temperance Talk in Acrostic--One Great Evil Power--Beware! THE LESSON--That the deadly drink evil appears to its victims in the most alluring and deceptive form. The following talk necessitates the use of lettering only, but it affords an opportunity for the audience to take a part, especially if the company of hearers is made up largely of children. The climax is not to be anticipated, and the effect cannot be other than lasting. The talk may be varied to suit local conditions; specific incidents make the best impressions. It is suggested that you watch your newspapers for a period preceding the talk and make clippings of incidents to fit the points of the first seven paragraphs. It is well to ask the children to repeat each word as it is placed on the drawing paper. ~~The Talk.~~ "The thing I am going to speak about today is not a pleasant one. The fact is that nothing good can be said about it, for it deals with sorrow and death. You may wonder, then, why we do not speak of something bright and happy; and I answer that if you learn the lesson about this thing of sorrow and death, your lives will escape its influence and you will be many more times likely to be happy; and if you do not learn the lesson, you may suffer distress and anguish all the years of your later life. This thing is known as a great evil power. Sometimes we hear of it coming into the home and making a brute out of a loving husband. Where there was happiness and joy there is now sorrow and despair. [Place the word Sorrow on the drawing paper. When adding the succeeding words, be sure to place them exactly as indicated in Fig. 43.] [Illustration: Fig. 43] "Again, this evil power creeps into a home and fastens itself upon a young man who had before him every promise of a bright, successful life. So relentless is it that the young man, in despair, takes his own life. [Add the word Death.] "Again, we see a man, successful in business, with no seeming obstacle in the way of greater achievement, when, one day, we find his doors are closed. This evil power has come upon him and he is a bankrupt and a failure. [Add the word Failure.] "Again, we hear of a man who has been a leader among men--a brilliant lawyer, a keen thinker--taken from his place and confined in a hospital for the insane. The same evil power has done this. [Add the word Insanity.] "Again, we know of a young man who was strong and robust, a splendid specimen of physical manhood; now he has lost his health and strength. The same evil power has come upon him and has placed him on a bed of sickness from which he cannot rise. [Add the word Sickness.] "Again, how often do we hear that a man, respected and honored, has in a moment of passion, taken the life of another man, just because this evil power came in and caused him to do it. [Add the word Murder.] "But more common than all the other terrible things which this great evil power does is the bringing of wretchedness and want to the wives and the children of the men who are its victims. These innocent ones suffer for the common comforts of life, food and clothing. This we call poverty. [Add the word Poverty. This completes Fig. 43.] "Many more words could be added to this list, representing the misfortunes which come to the victims of this great evil power. In every instance it deceived its victims into believing it was harmless--that in accepting it there was no danger or risk. "What is this great evil power? [With red chalk draw the heavy line, completing Fig. 44, to bring out the word Whiskey.] [Illustration: Fig. 44] "Now, boys and girls, consider this not as a puzzle drawing. It represents a truth almost as old as the world. Concerning strong drink, the Bible cries out, 'Beware!' Remember that every drunkard believed he could taste liquor and then leave it alone if he wished. You, in your happy homes, may think you are safe from it. Beware! Some day, the temptation will come to you; someone will test you. Beware! 'Whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.' 'Who hath woe? Who hath sorrow? Who hath babbling? Who hath wounds without cause? Who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine.' Beware! Be not one of these. "No, let us keep our minds on the pure, the upright, looking ever to Jesus, who is our strength and who will keep us from the power of this evil thing. 'Then shalt thou walk in thy way securely, and thy foot shall not stumble.'" IF WASHINGTON LIVED TODAY --Washington's Birthday --Character The Principles Which Underlie Success Are the Same at All Times. THE LESSON--That true success will attend those who found their lives on the principles which governed the life of Washington. Properly handled, the illustration designed for the following talk will prove a revelation to young and old. The application fits the illustration so well that the talk should prove of absorbing interest and lasting impressiveness. ~~The Talk.~~ [Before beginning the talk, make the following preparations very carefully: Attach several thicknesses of your drawing paper to your board, leaving the outer sheet free at the bottom by tacking at the top only. Next, with a sharp pen-knife, cut a hole in the outer sheet, indicated by the dotted lines in Fig. 45, and throw away the piece which has been cut out. The object of this preparation is this: When you draw the portrait of Washington, represented in Fig. 45, a portion of your drawing will appear on the outer sheet and part of it--the face--on the next sheet beneath. If your preparations have been well made, the outer sheet will lie flat against the one beneath, and the audience will not see the hole until the proper time comes.] [Illustration: Fig. 45] "I am going to draw first an outline portrait of George Washington, copied from the profile crayon sketch of St. Memin. [Draw Fig. 45, complete, being careful, in moving the crayon from one sheet to the other, not to tear the outer sheet.] This view shows plainly the style of wig and military clothing of a gentleman of the revolutionary days, and, as we look at it we note what a difference there is between this and the dress of the men of today. Do we also feel that there is a great difference between the men of colonial days and the present time--the same difference in character that there is in dress? If this thought has come to us, we have also asked ourselves, perhaps, this strange question, 'What kind of a man would George Washington be if he were living at the present time?' "Of course, if he had not performed his great work in helping to shape the destiny of our nation, it is probable that America would have had a vastly different history. We will assume, however, that Washington were a product of the present day and that the present conditions prevailed. What, then, would Washington be like? How would he act? What would he do? "Perhaps we can best transplant him to our day by dressing him in the clothing of the man of the present. [Slowly fold back the outer sheet, so the audience may see that you have already drawn on the under sheet a portion of the second "scene"--the most important part, in fact. As you continue the talk, add lines to complete Fig. 46.] In the first place, Washington, with his abundance of natural hair, would not wear a wig just for style, so we will draw his head as we think it would appear naturally. Nor would he wear the colonial style of clothing, so we will substitute the coat, collar and tie of an American gentleman of today. And here we have Washington as he would look if he lived in our own time. [Illustration: Fig. 46] "I do not believe Washington would be a military leader in this latter day. He was essentially a man of peace, and everywhere in his writings we find expressed a longing to return after the strife of battle and the weary days in the presidential chair, to his quiet, beloved Mount Vernon, to carry on his extensive private business and enjoy his friends and the sweets of home life. "But we cannot doubt that he would be a great leader in the struggle for right against wrong in every form. From his childhood, he loved truth and honesty. He was a deep and careful student. He worked hard at his duties as a surveyor of the wilderness and then came the call from Governor Dinwiddie to carry a message to the French over hundreds of miles of unknown land, in the dead of winter. It was the most perilous undertaking ever entrusted to any man in the new land of America up to that time, but he met the task manfully. It was such victories as these in his youth that made him the Father of His Country. It is the meeting of our own problems in the same spirit that means our own success in life. "If Washington lived today, his career would be vastly different from what it was, yet he would have made his place, and the world would have been eminently better for his work. Let us study to apply to our own lives the principles which made Washington truly great." [In closing, restore the outer sheet to its first position, thus presenting the original portrait. It may be necessary to fasten it down with a thumb-tack.] EVOLUTION OF THE JUG --Temperance Day --Slavery While Strong Drink Makes "Poverty and Rags," the Pure Life Brings Earthly Prosperity. THE LESSON--That intemperance is the chief cause of the world's poverty and misery. This talk deals especially with the point that the use of strong drink consumes the income of the wage earner, unfits him for his work, and brings suffering and want to himself and those dependent upon him. ~~The Talk.~~ [Illustration: Fig. 47] "It is a common belief that slavery was wiped out of America by the Emancipation Proclamation of President Lincoln, sustained by the victory of the union armies in the war of the rebellion. And so it was as far as the negro is concerned; but there is in America today another form of slavery which no clash of arms can eradicate, and this is the picture of the slaveholder: [Draw Fig. 47 complete.] The 'little brown jug,' which we use as a type of the saloon power, holds millions of men and boys in its grasp, consuming their brains, their bodies, and their money, and bringing misery and hopelessness to them and to those who love them. From Europe comes many a cry of anguish, showing that the same powerful slaveholder holds sway across the ocean. Listen to the words of the great English statesman, Joseph Chamberlain: "'If there is in this whole liquor business any single encouraging feature,' he says, 'it is to be found in the gathering impatience of the people at the burden which they are bound to bear, and their growing indignation and sense of shame and disgrace which this imposes upon them. The fiery serpent of drink is destroying our people, and now they are waiting with longing eyes the uplifting of the remedy.' "Again, from the island of Madagascar, off the east coast of Africa, we hear the queen of that island declaring herself in bitterness of spirit, in these words: "'I cannot consent, as your queen, to take revenue from the sale of liquor, which destroys the souls and bodies of my people.' "The Hon. Carroll D. Wright, while United States commissioner of labor, tells, from observation, of the slavery of strong drink in his own country and in Europe. He says: 'I have looked into a thousand homes of the working people of Europe; I do not know how many in this country. In every case, so far as my observation goes, drunkenness was at the bottom of the misery, and not the industrial system or the industrial surroundings of the men and their families.' "And so the testimony goes on. It is the same everywhere. There is no need of more proof that strong drink is the world's greatest curse. To every one of you boys, I am going to say that success in life cannot come to you in its fulness if you ever allow yourselves to get this deadly habit. Let it not break into the abode of your soul--and by this I mean your own bodies--and make you depraved captives for life. The first taste of strong drink, even though it may seem to be a very little thing, may mean that you will become banished from God forever. Remember, boys, that Satan is deceitful. He never tells you the truth. He is always trying to juggle you with his jug and to make you believe that black is white and wrong is right, and even that sorrow is joy and 'a good time.' It is against those who would tempt you that Jesus said, 'And fear not them that kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear him that is able to destroy both soul and body.' Such a destroyer is strong drink. "As the years go by, you will find that you need all your energy, your brains, and your physical strength to enable you to meet the problems of life. You will find that your later years will be filled with battles; the defeats will be bitter; the victories sweet. One of the necessary victories is the successful earning of a living. Money is a splendid thing. It is the love of it and the wrong use of it that is 'the root of all evil.' In the later years, if you are a slave to strong drink, you may recall with bitterness the warning of the Psalmist who declares that 'the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty, and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags.' But true prosperity comes most surely when the life is pure. I know you are resolved that yours shall be such lives, so we shall change the drawing to indicate something more acceptable to the life that well deserves a reward for right living. [Add lines to complete Fig. 48.] [Illustration: Fig. 48] "Paul pictures to us the successful man when he uses these words, 'Not slothful in business, fervent in spirit; serving the Lord.'" THE CIGARETTE FACE --Temptation --Evil Habits A Unique Presentation of a Truth Important to Every Child and Youth. THE LESSON--That Indulgence in injurious habits undermines the moral and physical structure and is a barrier to true success. The chalk talk here presented is certain to prove of enduring value in impressing upon young minds the truth of the deadly effects of the use of cigarettes. The talk may form a part of a program given on Temperance day, as the cigarette habit and liquor-drinking are very closely allied. ~~The Talk.~~ "We are going to talk for a few minutes about our food. Of course, we all know that when we are very young children our food consists very largely of milk, and the physicians say that boys and girls should not be allowed to drink tea and coffee or to eat meat and other solid foods until they have reached a certain age when their bodies demand such food. But ofttimes we find that parents do not know about this or else they try to please their children, for they frequently allow them to eat and drink the forbidden things. The result is that as they grow older, their bodies, having become accustomed to the foods which were too strong for them, demand still stronger food. So it is, often, that a young man possesses a craving for a stimulant which is unnatural at his youthful age, and we find him turning to drinking and cigarette smoking. But this does not satisfy the hungering and thirsting for stronger and more exciting things. Many times the life of the young man is ruined in his mad search for something to meet the demands of his physical nature and he goes down to the grave a physical, mental and moral wreck! "And now, with this thought before us, I want to speak for a few minutes particularly about cigarettes. And in this, also, I want to speak only to the girls. Will every girl please listen and do as I ask? Now, then: I am going to ask you to take your paper and pencils, if you have them, and copy the picture that I shall draw, and, if you haven't them, carry the picture with you in your mind so that you may use it when the occasion comes. "Here we go! Whenever you see one of your boy friends with a cigarette in his mouth, ask him if he ever saw the picture of the 'Cigarette Face.' Of course, he will say, 'No.' Then you will ask him to spell 'cigarettes' for you, very slowly, and as he pronounces the letters, you put them down, just like I shall do. Now, watch: [Illustration: Fig. 49] "'C' [Step 1, Fig. 49]. "'I' [Step 2]. "'G' [Step 3]. "'A-R-E-T-T-E-S' [Step 4]. "And now, we will draw the cigarette itself [Step 5]. "And finish the picture by drawing the encircling smoke. [Step 6, completing the final scene]. "Is it a true portrait? Go and ask any physician. Go and ask the warden of any insane asylum. Go and ask many a heartbroken mother. "Does cigarette smoking make criminals out of boys? Magistrate LeRoy B. Crane, of New York City, says that three hundred boys were brought before him, charged with crimes. All but five of them were cigarette smokers, and that report ought to _cure forever_ every boy in this town of the expensive _curse_. "Does cigarette smoking make failures out of boys? Once, when he was asked about it, the late E.H. Harriman, one of the greatest railroad managers in the history of America, said that railroads might as well go to lunatic asylums for their employes as to hire cigarette smokers. Yet some boys I know haven't a bit more sense than to smoke them. Girls, isn't it a pity? "Let us remember that habit is the very foundation of our lives. Everything that we do repeatedly becomes easier for us to do each succeeding day. This would be a most discouraging condition if it applied only to bad habits. But, thanks be to God, the rule applies equally well to good habits. Diligence, economy, perseverance, gentleness, pure thoughts--may all become the governing habits of our lives if we will but center our attention upon them repeatedly and crowd out the evil tendencies. We are so constituted that we must form habits. We cannot think or say or feel anything without leaving an effect which will influence every succeeding thought or action or feeling. Let us, therefore, look carefully to the forming of our own habits and to helping others form theirs." CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS --Prayer --Faith Although He Died Believing His Mission Had Failed, His Prayer Was More Than Answered. THE LESSON--That "the effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." The life of Christopher Columbus contains much to inspire the present-day youth. In studying it, however, one should always take into account the prevailing superstitions, darkened by the bigotry of the times. But above and beyond all this shone the steadfast belief of Columbus that his every act was directed by God. The talk is suited to all ages, for the mere mention of the name of Columbus will excite the interest of young and old. ~~The Talk.~~ "Every one of us knows that Columbus discovered America, but unless we have studied the life of this wonderful man we do not know of the great difficulties and hardships he endured before he was able to do it. We know that Ferdinand and Isabella, rulers of Spain, furnished him with the ships with which he came to the new land; but we should also know that for years and years he worked and struggled through sickening discouragement until he finally succeeded in procuring the support of the Spanish monarchs. We know that he found a great continent, and that his name is honored above all others of his time; but we should also know that he himself never knew that he was the discoverer of a new land, and that he died a broken-hearted, ridiculed man whose mission had failed miserably. "And what was that mission? What was Columbus trying to do when he discovered America? He was simply trying to find a short way to reach India. Ferdinand and Isabella provided him with the ships only with the hope that he would find rich deposits of gold for them in some strange land. Both missions failed! But God was directing the life of Columbus. He put into his heart the firm belief that the world is round, and made him anxious to prove his theory to be true. Finally, down through years of hardship and discouragement, God brought Columbus to the age of maturity and wisdom, fully equipped for the great task which was before him. Then the Spanish monarchs provided the required vessels for the voyage. Here we have one of these quaint caravels, the Santa Maria. [Draw Fig. 50 complete, or, on account of the detail, prepare it in advance.] There were two other ships, the Pinta and the Nina. What curious looking boats they were! They left the coast of Spain on Friday, August 3, 1492. Where were they going? Nobody knew. But there was one man in that company who, deep in his heart, believed that God was directing the course of those three little caravels across the vast ocean. Washington Irving, in his Life of Columbus, says, 'He was a devoutly pious man. Religion mingled with the whole course of his thoughts, and shone forth in his most private and unstudied writings. Whenever he made a great discovery, he celebrated it by solemn thanks to God. The voice of prayer and melody of praise rose from his ships when they first beheld the new world, and his first action on landing was to prostrate himself on the earth and offer thanksgiving.' [Illustration: Fig. 50] "Such a man was Christopher Columbus--_a man of faith and prayer_; He had prayed that God would direct him in the discovery of a new route to India. God answered that prayer in a richer, greater measure than Columbus ever knew, for to him whose life had been one of devotion and communion with God, was given a name above all other names written in the world's list of navigators and discoverers! He prayed for a great blessing. God gave him a greater one. As the Santa Maria entered the harbor of the little island of San Salvador and the crews of the three vessels, numbering 120 in all, knelt and thanked God for His great mercies, Columbus believed he had reached a distant coast of India. [Draw the ground and trees, Fig. 51.] But, in truth, it was infinitely more than that--he had found A NEW WORLD! [Add "A New World," completing Fig. 51.] Such was the blessing which God gave to Christopher Columbus. Such is the blessing he will give to all who trust Him and love Him. Always does the true Christian receive more than that for which he asks, for the human mind cannot know the thoughts of God or of His love for those who give their lives wholly into His keeping." [Illustration: Fig. 51] THE THIEF OF CHARACTER --Meditation --Conscience The Unholy Thought Robs Life of Its Choicest Treasures--The Voice of Conscience. THE LESSON--That as we use care in the selection of our confidential friends, so, also, should we guard the choice of our thoughts. It was Lowell who said: "Ah! let us hope that to our praise Good God not only reckons The moments when we tread His ways, But when the spirit beckons-- That some slight good is also wrought Beyond self-satisfaction, When we are simply good in thought, Howe'er we fail in action." The truth that good thoughts must be encouraged every moment of our lives, if we would really live, is expressed by every great mind that the earth has known. It is here reviewed once more. ~~The Talk.~~ "I am going to place on the drawing paper today the picture of a young man of the type which we admire--a young fellow of upright life, good habits and Christian principles. We want him for our friend. [Draw Fig. 52, complete.] [Illustration: Fig. 52] "But there is another type of man whose character we can well illustrate by changing the lines in this first portrait. [With the broad side of your black crayon make the changes needed to produce Fig. 53. Shade the face with a light touch of the broad side of the crayon.] He is a dishonest man--he is willing to risk his life in taking from us that which does not belong to him. Do we welcome such a man to our homes? No. The hand of every man is against a thief and a robber. He is an outcast. The law seeks to protect us from him by putting him in prison if he can be caught. [Illustration: Fig. 53] "I know that we agree that we should be very careful about the kind of people whom we welcome to our homes. But, nevertheless the hand of forgiveness and uplift should be extended to every repentant sinner, for Christ has so taught us. But if we should be so careful about the people whom we admit into our homes, why should we not be still more careful about those other visitors--our thoughts--when we admit them to our minds? Did you ever think of your thoughts as your visitors? No, I suppose not; but we are going to consider them as visitors today. "Ah, here comes a nice-looking thought that wants to enter into your head. Fortunately, you have a faithful servant who answers the doorbell every time a visitor comes. It is your Conscience, and if it is well trained, it will admit to your mind only the pure thoughts, and it will slam the door in the face of all harmful intruders. But, alas! we are the master of the house and sometimes when Conscience would close the door to an unholy thought, we tell the servant to step aside, and we admit the visitor. It is a shame! And the worst of it is that Conscience, like an obedient servant, finally lets us have our own way and then we have thrust out our best friend! "Here is a boy who has lagged behind in his school work. A nice-looking little thought comes along and says, 'Why not cheat just a little? No one would know anything about it.' In a jiffy, Conscience is on hand trying to shut the door. But the boy welcomes the thought into his head. Conscience, made bold by the threatened disaster, tries to show the lad that he can succeed more surely by remaining true and honest, but the thought prevails, and before the boy knows it, the door is opened to a multitude of other thoughts, and the ones which came last are worse than the little one which entered first. When such a boy is grown to young manhood he finds himself robbed of character, robbed of honors, robbed of noble ambitions. He is a failure. No one trusts him for he cannot trust himself. He is completely at the mercy of his evil thoughts, and Conscience can no longer serve him. "How gladly, then, should each one of you boys and girls welcome good thoughts. Make Conscience your door-keeper. The same good thought will come again and again, bringing other splendid, helpful, delightful thoughts, and they will become the greater part of your life. Every one of you has a thinker in his head. Be careful to keep it clean and pure." JENNIE CASSEDAY --Children's Day --Service A Children's Day Story of What One Girl Did to Make Others Happy. THE LESSON--That one little act may multiply to bless countless thousands. The story of Jennie Casseday is one of the sweetest narratives of humble service that can be told to children and their elders. It is a chapter from real life which may be copied in varied form by each one of us. Its use is suggested for Children's day, but it is good for many other occasions. ~~The Talk.~~ "This morning, while we are surrounded by these beautiful flowers, and while our hearts are light as we think of all the beauty and brightness that God has given us, I want to tell you the story of Jennie Casseday and what she did to bring beauty and gladness into the world. You may think that Jennie couldn't do very much, because she was a poor little cripple girl. She lived at Louisville, Kentucky. When she was small, she was just as lively and happy as any other little girl; but one day she suffered from a terrible accident and from that time she was helpless. I am going to draw a picture of Jennie's crutch to represent her suffering and her helplessness. [Draw crutch with brown, Fig. 54.] [Illustration: Fig. 54] "Have I said she was helpless? Well, this is what I mean: She could not help herself, but she could help others, and this is how she did it: For several dark, painful years Jennie Casseday suffered and waited--waited for something which she could do to enable her to send some ray of light out into the world which would brighten other hearts. One day she read in the New York Observer how a young girl school teacher, who lived in the outskirts of the city of Boston and was employed in one of the down-town schools, was bringing brightness into the homes of many poor people by taking with her large baskets of beautiful roses and lilacs and snowballs and many other kinds of flowers from her suburban home and giving them to the children whom she met. It was a simple little act, but the reading of it by Jennie Casseday brought a transformation in her life. I wish I knew the name of this young school teacher in Boston, but I can't give it to you. But it was she who gave to Jennie Casseday the thought for which she had longed. Jennie's suffering was almost forgotten in her planning and determination to raise flowers and give them to the sick and the needy in Louisville. Her friends soon learned of her plans and there were many willing hearts and hands to help her. Under her guidance the Louisville Flower Mission was established, and it soon proved to be a great and growing blessing. It had been doing its beautiful work for four years when Miss Frances E. Willard, head of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union, visited Louisville. There she heard of the mission and the noble young woman who founded it. Miss Willard visited Jennie Casseday in her sick room, and when the conference had closed, Jennie had been placed at the head of the Flower Mission department of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union, which was at that time brought into existence. This was in 1882, and Jennie continued in this great work until the time of her death in 1893. June 9 is observed as the Red Letter day of the Flower Mission department of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union, for this is the birthday of Jennie Casseday. Every year, thousands of bouquets of beautiful flowers find their way into homes of the sick and the poor throughout the land. And so, with the forgetting of the sufferings of Jennie Casseday and the remembrance of her beautiful life, I think we may well change this crutch to something more commemorative of her life. [With green chalk, change the crutch to a stem of a carnation, and with pink draw the blossom, Fig. 55.] [Illustration: Fig. 55] "In Louisville, the people have sought to honor the memory of this young woman by the establishment of the Jennie Casseday Infirmary and the Rest Cottage Home for Working Girls. The school children of Louisville erected a beautiful monument to her memory bearing an appropriate inscription. "Some of us who have our health and strength may well wonder if we are fulfilling all of God's demands. Boys and girls, let me impress upon you the thought that it is not the great, showy thing that makes people love us, but the careful doing of the seemingly little things, which, when summed up, make a magnificent whole. Jennie Casseday did what she could. No more is required of us. But that much is certainly expected, and we will fall short if we fail to meet the expectation." [A beautiful close to this talk would be the recitation or reading of Dr. Van Dyke's poem "Transformation," which may be found in "The Blue Flower" or in "The Builders and Other Poems."] MOTHER --Mother's Day --Home Training The Great Men of the World Pay Her the Highest of Tribute--A Carnation Day Thought. THE LESSON--That the welfare of the church and of the home rests more with the mothers than with the Sunday School teacher. It is interesting to read the recorded words of some of the world's greatest minds in tribute to motherhood. The following talk, quoting some of these, should be an impressive lesson to the young and to the mothers as well. ~~The Talk.~~ "Who are these mothers for whom we have decorated our school room and ourselves with these beautiful flowers? [Draw, in black outline the carnation blossom; add the stem in solid green, and place the lettering in purple, red or blue, Fig. 56.] [Illustration: Fig. 56] "Surely these mothers must be of great importance or we would not be having a special service for them today. I have been reading a little about mothers, to see if they are really of much value to the world, and I want to repeat some of the things I have read. [It is well to have all of these quotations in note form to be read with accuracy.] "I find that John Randolph, one of America's greatest statesmen, said, 'I should have been an atheist if it had not been for one recollection--and that was the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my little hand in hers and cause me on my knees to say, "Our Father who art in heaven."' "I find that Abraham Lincoln said of his mother, 'All that I am and all that I hope to be I owe to my mother. Blessings on her memory!' "I find that George Herbert said, 'One good mother is worth a hundred schoolmasters.' "I find that Oliver Wendell Holmes said, "'Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall; A mother's secret hope outlives them all.' "I find that Coleridge said, "'A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive.' "I find that Beecher said, 'A mother's heart is the child's school room.' "I find that Benjamin West, the great artist, said, 'A kiss from my mother made me a painter.' "I find that General Wallace, in Ben Hur, said, 'God could not be everywhere, so he made mothers.' "I find everywhere the great men of the world paying loving tribute to these mothers, and after all there is only one real perfect, true and faultless mother in all the world and that is our own mother, whether she be gone before or whether she be still with us. I am sure that every one of us older ones will find ourselves in tune with the expressive words of George Griffith Fetter, who wrote: "'The noblest thoughts my soul can claim, The holiest words my tongue can frame, Unworthy are to praise the name More sacred than all other. An infant, when her love first came-- A man, I find it just the same; Reverently, I breathe her name, The blessed name of mother.' "And so, I answer the question that I asked at the beginning, who are these mothers? Really, it seems to me that the mothers of the world are the power which keeps it moving toward all that is good and high and holy. Mother love has been a power in the world since history commenced, and the scriptures are filled with beautiful demonstrations of it. How we love to read the story of the mother of Moses who hid her child in the bullrushes and then succeeded in being engaged as his nurse. How often has the heart thrilled at the hearing of the story of Samuel and his mother! How strongly the mother love manifested itself at the time of the judgment of Solomon who was called to determine the possession of the child claimed by two women. And what could be more beautiful than the pictures of the devotion of the mother of Jesus to Him who was to be the Savior of the world? "Verily, 'the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world,' through the love of good which the mother hopes for her child. The mother of today in America has a greater problem than ever before. The boys of today are the men of tomorrow. The boys will be what the mothers make them; and with this thought, I want to change our drawing slightly to indicate the ever-present problem which is never safe except in the hands of the right kind of mothers of the boys of today and of the future generations. [Add the words to complete Fig. 57.] [Illustration: Fig. 57] "May God bless you, mothers, and help you to help these boys and these girls to meet the great problems which are before them. You must help them. Without you, they are on unsafe ground, treading perilous paths." NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS --New Year's Day --Watchfulness Most of Them May be Rolled into One--"Hold Fast to That Which Is Good." THE LESSON--That the positive life, rather than the negative life, knows true happiness. While this talk is planned for the special application to the opening of the fiscal or the school or church year, it may be revised very easily to fit many other occasions. ~~The Talk.~~ "Right now, at the beginning of the new year, we hear a great deal about making resolutions, 'turning over a new leaf,' and so on. In many cases, these things are spoken of lightly and laughingly, and yet, I know that many of us, away down deep in our hearts, are thinking of things which we are resolving to do during the new year and also of things which we have made up our minds not to do during the coming twelve months. "What does it signify when we do this? It means that we have made mistakes and that we do not intend to make the same mistakes again. It is a strange thing to say, but it is true, nevertheless, that a man is a good deal like a fish in some respects. Whenever you go fishing, you use just the kind of bait which you think will fool the fish the most easily. You should know where a certain kind of fish is likely to abound and then use the style of bait which that kind of fish is most apt to mistake for something which it is not. Here, for instance, is a cork bobber on the surface of the water of a lake, with the line attached to it, and here, below, is the hook, nicely concealed from view by the bait in the form of an angle worm. [Draw the lines to follow the talk, completing Fig. 58.] [Illustration: Fig. 58] "It is evident that the fisherman who holds the line is not after the kind of fish which are to be captured by trolling or casting, for he is using the method known as still-fishing. And, sure enough, he has attracted a victim, a blue gill, which is making straight for what he thinks will mean more life to him but which probably means sure death unless he succeeds in getting away again. [Draw fish, completing Fig. 59.] So, the ingenuity of man is kept active in devising means of capturing game of all kinds. [Illustration: Fig. 59] "And are we not like the fish? Haven't you bitten into any baited hooks during the past year? Haven't you been fooled into thinking something was good for you when it turned out to be bad? Hasn't some alluring amusement or pastime brought disappointment or shame when you thought it would bring delight and satisfaction? Ah, yes. All of us have been fooled in one way or another, and when we come to this time of the year and decide to start anew we find that it isn't so easy as we thought, to get rid of many errors or vices which we would eliminate from our lives. Perhaps some have fallen victims to habits which grip us relentlessly, and if so we can doubtless agree with Pope that "'Vice is a monster of so frightful mien As to be hated needs but to be seen: Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face. We first endure, then pity, then embrace.' "As Shakespeare says, 'There is no vice so simple, but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.' There's where the trouble starts. We're completely fooled. And when we come to purify our lives by eliminating this thing and that, we are discouraged with the result, and in many instances we give up in despair. "How, then, are we to make our resolutions good? How are we to be sure that the new leaf which we turn over will not be blown back again by the first wind of passion or discouragement which comes? "I believe we can do it by making our resolutions positive and not negative. Let me explain what I mean. We are normal human beings. We demand activity. There must be something doing. If we are giving our time wastefully to society, to the theater, to the many other forms of amusement we shall find ourselves most miserable if we simply resolve to eliminate these things from our lives. To do this is to make a negative resolution. No, the thing to do is to resolve that hereafter our time will be spent in busying ourselves at those things which are wholesome, helpful to others, and of such a character to bring delight to us because of the service we can render to the world. What can you do? Why, the field to do good is never overcrowded. The church and the Sunday school offer many avenues of activity. Find out the thing you can do best--uncover your talent. Get busy at good works, and then there will be no room for the objectionable things and they will die out because good habits are growing in their stead. "To do this is the surest way to 'set your mind on the things that are above, not on things that are upon the earth,' and when this is done we need have little concern about our happiness." THE MOUNTAIN CLIMBER --Light --Danger All Light, Shining in the Darkness, Is Either a Guide or a Warning. THE LESSON--That the Bible sends out two kinds of light, guiding and warning, and that all who neglect it are groping in the dark, "loving darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil." The word Light, appears very frequently in the scriptures as a type of the highest human good. All of the most joyous emotions of the mental and physical natures of man are described in the imagery of light. Throughout the Book it is used to typify the true religion and happiness. ~~The Talk.~~ "When we go riding in an automobile after dark, we light the lamps at the front and at the rear. Why do we light the lamps? So the light will shine on the roadway and we will be able to see where we are going and thus avoid mishap and injury? Yes, but how about the lamp at the rear? Oh, we light that one so other people will not run into us. Yes, and that, too, is one of the great reasons why we light the front lamps. If we were to start out on a night journey with no lamps burning, there would be great danger of accident, and especially if we were to meet another automobile which had no lights burning. We would be apt to bump into each other. The law recognizes all this and compels us to keep our automobile lights brilliantly shining. "Dwight L. Moody, the great evangelist, tells the story that as he was walking along a dark city street one night, he met a man, who carried an object in each of his hands. Something about the man's actions excited the curiosity of Mr. Moody, and he stopped to speak to him. The thing that caused Mr. Moody to wonder was this: The man held in one hand a lighted lantern, and in the other a cane with which he was feeling his way along the street. As he stopped, Mr. Moody saw that the man was blind. He was so much interested that he spoke to the man, saying: "'Since you are blind, why do you carry a lantern? It doesn't help you to see your way.' "'No,' replied the man, 'I carry it to keep people from running into me.' "So, here, you see, was an instance of carrying a light, not to enable one to see his way but to guard himself against harm from those who would be warned thereby. "Ofttimes, you have seen red lanterns placed along streets where dangerous obstructions are left in the pathway of travel. These lights are to warn people of possible harm. "As Christians, we, too, must have a light on our pathway to guide us through life, and this same light will also guard us against harm. That light comes from Jesus Christ through his word. With the light of his love within us we can never mistake the way. If we have that light, temptations may come to us, but they cannot harm us because that light warns them away. This light is our guide and our guard. God's word, the Psalmist declares, 'is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.' "The story is told of a traveler in the west who, separated from the other members of his party, was climbing slowly up the rocky side of a rugged mountain. [Draw the man and the lines of the mountain.] His progress was slow, not only because of the difficulty in climbing up the slippery and treacherous rocks, but because the mountain top was shrouded in a heavy mist or cloud, which made it impossible for him to see more than a few feet ahead of him. [Draw the cloud line to complete Fig. 60.] [Illustration: Fig. 60] "All at once, the bright sunlight broke through the mist, and the man was horrified to find that he was on the very brink of a high precipice and that a climb of a few more feet would have meant death and destruction to him. [Draw lines to complete Fig. 61.] [Illustration: Fig. 60] "Everywhere in life does our pathway lead toward danger. The saloon would claim the young man. The Light says, 'Whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.' Perhaps the temptation comes to be dishonest in dealing with other people. The Light says, 'All things therefore whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do ye also unto them.' Whatever the temptation, whatever the perplexity, however deep the darkness, this Light is ours, not only to brighten the way but to warn the evil thing to depart from us. And, having received this light, let us remember continually that Christ said, 'Ye are the light of the world. Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven.'" THE OPEN SALOON DOOR --Temperance Day --Destruction The Young Man Who Enters Therein Endangers His Whole After Life. THE LESSON--That both the soul and the body are threatened with destruction by indulgence in strong drink. This temperance lesson possesses one of the "surprise" features which are permissible only when they lose themselves in the greatness of the truth they present. In preparing for the talk, be sure that your guide lines are properly placed. You must be provided with a sharp penknife to use in cutting the "doors" in the picture. The dotted lines for enlarging the picture are omitted for fear of confusion, but these may be drawn over Fig. 62, with a hard pencil, and the desired purpose be accomplished. ~~The Talk.~~ "To us who realize the terrible results of the use of strong drink, and who are trying to do our part in protecting the boys and young men from the blighting influence of the saloon, there is something most discordant in the way in which these places parade their false attractiveness; for many there are who do not realize that they are a trap which, to enter, may prove fatal to life and hope. "The great question is, why can they not see the danger? That is the mystery, for down through the ages has come the thunder of warning against this great enemy of mankind. 'Look not thou upon the wine when it is red,' cries out King Solomon. 'At the last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder.' 'Who hath woe? Who hath sorrow? Who hath wounds without cause? Who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine.' "One look at the saloon door should cause the young man to recoil in horror, for he may see there, if he but heed, the very warning of death. Let him look upon it. Let us see what he may behold. [Draw the outline of the windows, the sign and the lower horizontal line of Fig. 62, omitting, for the present, the lettering.] This, let us suppose, is the front of the saloon which invites him to enter its doors. [Draw very lightly the lines indicated by the dotted lines A.] Prominently displayed are the evidences that intoxicating liquors are sold there. [Draw with red chalk the words, "Dealers in Wine, Porter, Whiskeys, Bourbon, Etc.," completing Fig. 62. There is no more drawing to do; the remaining step is taken by the aid of the penknife.] Here we have the front of the saloon. [Illustration: Fig. 62] "There is one thing about the drink habit that we can easily understand, and there is one thing about it that I suppose we shall never understand. We can realize why the man who is bound by this awful curse does not break his bonds; how willingly would he do it _if he believed he could_. But, as we have observed, it is a mystery why a boy or a young man, with numberless powerful and convincing proofs before him, will deliberately enter the doorway of a saloon. But once within, all may seem bright and happy and joyous--perhaps the victim is led to believe that father and mother are misinformed, since there seems to be nothing but gaiety there. But he finds, all too soon, that the liquor which seemed at first to make little difference in his life, is becoming his master, and never does he realize it so well as when he tries to free himself. Why and how has the saloon changed his life? The story is a simple one, and he should have seen the reason before he entered, because there it is, written plainly upon the outside of the place which has meant his ruin. [With your penknife cut the paper along the lines A. Do _not_ cut on the lines B. Fold back the two "doors," at B, as if they were hinged. It may be necessary to hold them back with thumb tacks or pins. To heighten the effect it is well to have placed a blackened sheet of paper beneath the top sheet, so as to produce the effect illustrated. Add "And Poison Kills!" This completes Fig. 63.] [Illustration: Fig. 63] "The saloon may try to hide its real self, but every time it opens its doors to allow one of its victims to come out, it proclaims to the world that it traffics in _poison_--poison fatal to happiness, fatal to hope, fatal to health, fatal to all the higher and nobler aspirations of life. Everywhere is this truth proclaimed. From the insane asylums come the testimony. The jails cry out that it is true. The poor houses tell of its blight. Poverty-burdened homes and broken hearts everywhere proclaim the awful truth. "And yet, the land is cursed with these dram shops whose owners care only for the money which comes to them and which should go to the advancement of the happiness and the uplift of him who is their victim. Boys, may we plead with you today never to allow this thing to enter your life to keep you from being all that God wants you to be?" THE SIMPLE LIFE --Haste --Quietness The True Christian Life is the Safe, Sensible, Simple Life. THE LESSON--That speed and greed must of necessity end in dire disaster. It is a splendid thing to teach the boys and girls the lesson that true happiness attends the quiet, yet active life, while the race after vain things brings only bitterness and disappointment. ~~The Talk.~~ [Because of the details in the drawing of the boat, it is advisable, we think, to complete Fig. 64 before beginning the talk.] "In these days the very air seems filled with the 'speed germ.' Automobiles whiz here and there, and many a hen which now tries to cross the country road never gets more than half way. We who live in town have to keep a sharp lookout or we are apt to share the fate of many a valuable Buff Cochin or Plymouth Rock. Trains speed along their glistening rails faster than ever before. Great ships skim across the ocean in days instead of weeks. The aeroplane, which needs neither steel rails nor water to glide upon, darts through space still more rapidly. Everybody seems to be in a hurry, whether he is or not. We are impatient if the street car is half a minute late, when we are fully aware that we have plenty of time to reach our destination. "Again, we fret and work because we aren't getting rich fast enough. We get mad at our neighbor because he buys an automobile and despise him because we can't figure where he got the money with which to do it. We aren't satisfied with having $50,000. We want $500,000. And if we should get it, we would be just as dissatisfied and go chasing after a million. What's the matter with us? Are we crazy? Some women spend $50,000 a year on their clothes, whose mothers dressed better, looked better, felt better and were better on $500 or even a single hundred! In our mad chase after vain things how blind we are to the things of true worth and usefulness! "Every little while we get a shock that ought to bring us to our senses. When we learn of a terrible railroad wreck, we may expect to find the blame placed on someone for disobeying orders, or for other carelessness, but the true cause in nearly every instance is the cry of the public--of you and me and the other fellow--for speed--more speed--and still more speed! [Illustration: Fig. 64] "The greatest marine disaster in the world's history was the staking of the magnificent White Star line steamship, the Titanic, in April, 1912. [Remove your cover sheet and display Fig. 64.] Larger, faster and more costly than any vessel ever before built, it left its docks with its hundreds of passengers and members of the crew--a floating city in itself. Among the passengers were many whose names are recorded on the rolls of the world's greatest scientists, financiers, artists and authors. With eager, happy hearts, they looked forward to the celebration in New York which awaited the arrival of this foremost of the world's floating palaces. Alas, it was never to be! The story is too horrible for repetition. The fatal collision with the great iceberg--the heroism, the sacrifice, the loss of hundreds of precious lives as the vessel plunged into the depths of the ocean, are known in all their horror. [Add lines to produce Fig. 65.] The few in the lifeboats, looking toward the sinking vessel, heard the ship's band playing 'Nearer, My God, to Thee,' as the great ship, with its living load sank from sight. Hundreds of broken hearts still mourn the loss of dear ones, and all because the big, loaded ship was forced to run a race with time! Those in charge knew of the presence of the icebergs. They could have saved the loss by changing their route or slackening their speed, but the cry was, 'Hurry! Hurry! Break the record!' [Illustration: Fig. 65] "Aren't we all doing the same thing! The speed mania possesses us. The senseless race for worldly wealth and honor blinds us to the presence of threatened disaster. Let us quickly change our course. Christ our Master, points the way of safety. He has gone that way himself, and he asks each humble follower to take the course which He has so plainly marked out. It is the way of truth and peace. If we take it, we shall avoid every danger of a spiritual crash, which may mean disaster for soul as well as body." WARMTH AND COLDNESS --Sunday --Rest A Talk on Sunday Observance and Its Relation to the Christian Life. THE LESSON--That the things we think and do on the Lord's day are a true index of our character. The importance of the matter of Sunday observance must not be underestimated by the teacher whose endeavor it is to mould into true manhood and womanhood the lives of the boys and girls in her care. ~~The Talk.~~ "How many of you boys and girls ever played the game called 'Hide the Thimble?' Ah, I thought so--nearly everybody. One person bides the thimble and all the others try to find it; the one who discovers it first gets the chance to hide it the next time. Sometimes, the one who has hidden it assists the others to find it by saying, 'You are warm' or 'You are cold,' depending upon the nearness to or the distance from the hidden thimble. "When we stop to think about it, we find that many things in the world are just like this game. Your life and mine are a great deal like it. Sometimes there is something within us that tells us we are wandering away from God--that tells us we are _growing cold_. And then, if we heed the warning, we hear the same voice saying we are _growing warmer_, and we know it to be true for we feel the assurance that we are nearer to the Master than before. "I am going to draw on the paper this morning a thermometer, and with this thermometer we shall make some tests to see just what it means to be warm Christians or cold ones. [Draw the thermometer, Fig. 66, complete, excepting the liquid in the bulb.] [Illustration: Fig. 66] "Now we are ready to make the test, and we are going to do it by finding out how we spend our Sundays. Why? Because if you can know just how a boy or girl or a man or woman spends the Lord's day, you can tell pretty nearly just what kind of a person that one is in the sight of Jesus Christ. "God gave us this one day for our greatest good. He wants us to use it as a day which shall make us strong and well, bright and happy. If we use it any other way, we are sure to make one of the greatest mistakes of our lives. So certain is God that we must have a day of rest and upbuilding once in each seven days that he made a law concerning it. It is one of the Ten Commandments, which says that we must 'remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.' God knows best. When He establishes a law, _it must not be broken or the one who breaks it will suffer_. If the child touches fire with his hand, after being warned by his mother not to do it, his suffering is the result of doing what the mother forbade. When God tells us to keep His day holy, every one of us who disobeys that command must suffer. Let us see how it works. Bishop Vincent says: 'Sunday is ill-spent if it sends us back to our weekly work irritated, weary and reluctant'--and Sunday will never do that for us unless we misuse the day which God has given us. If we spend the day in worrying about our everyday affairs, if we spend it in chasing around after senseless amusements which weary the body without enlightening the heart and the mind, if we allow ourselves to follow paths which lead away from truth and right, then we will show up Monday morning irritated, weary and reluctant and our Sunday observance temperature is low indeed. [With red chalk, fill the bulb and a portion of the thermometer tube, completing Fig. 66.] "But Bishop Vincent also says, 'Sunday is well spent if it sends us back refreshed in body, mind and spirit to take up our duties with new inspiration of hope, patience and courage.' And we can all do this; and, as we do it, we shall find a growing delight in it. If we have been wasting our Sundays--spending them in such a way that when Monday morning comes we look back upon the Sabbath with regret--let us begin right now to form habits which shall make Sunday a delight--the brightest, the most restful, the most interesting, the most refreshing of all times. And let us be thankful that a day of this kind can come to us so often. It is then that our Sunday observance temperature will rise to its highest point. [With red chalk add lines to complete Fig. 67.] [Illustration: Fig. 67] "Dr. Lyman Abbott, like many others points out the folly of attending church services in the morning and then passing the remainder of the day in noisy or wearisome celebration. He calls it a 'weekly composite of Thanksgiving and Fourth of July,'--Thanksgiving in the quiet of the morning, and Fourth of July in the noisy afternoon. "Such an observance of the day is displeasing to God who gave us the day for our greatest good and not to be wasted in idleness and folly. "Keeping the Lord's day holy doesn't deprive us of activity, but it changes the course of our action from paths of wastefulness to fields of the greatest good. There are many things to do on Sunday, and in the doing of some of them right at your hands, you will have discovered the best way for you to get the most out of one of God's greatest gifts to his children." THE DESERT and the MOUNTAIN --Decision Day --Conversion A Decision Day Illustration From the Far West--"Living Water." THE LESSON--That as the desert cannot become productive until it receives the waters of irrigation, so the arid soul, if it is to become fruitful, must receive the water of life. While this illustration is especially applicable to the service of Decision Day, it is recommended for any occasion where there is opportunity to speak of conversion or a returning to Christ. ~~The Talk.~~ "A gentleman, a little past middle life, was traveling from the east in a luxurious passenger train crossing one of the far western states. As he gazed from the car window, his face wore an expression of interest, which developed into one of wonder and excitement. "'Can it be,' he exclaimed, addressing the man who sat with him, 'that I am passing through the very same country which I saw but a few short years ago? It seems impossible!' "Now, why did it seem impossible? Let us find out. It appears that when the man traveled the state before, he looked out of the car windows upon a scene of barrenness and desolation. [As you speak, draw Fig. 68 with brown crayon. Be sure to leave the mountain peaks white, but, in order to secure an impressive pastel effect use the broad side of your brown and your yellow crayons lightly over the entire area of desert and mountain side.] The earth was dry and parched, and in all directions, as far as the eye could see, grew only the sage brush--the mark of the desert. There was no life, excepting an occasional coyote, and the reflected heat and light made travel almost unbearable. The monotonous earth was composed of the leveled deposits of the mountains which the sun had baked for centuries. [Illustration: Fig. 68] [As you continue, change the scene by covering the brown with green. Draw the foliage of the trees with green and the trunks with brown. Life may be added by touching the trees with the red and the yellow and the orange to indicate the fruit. The thought is to transform the desert into a place of fruitfulness. This completes Fig. 69.] [Illustration: Fig. 69] "But now, all was changed as if by a magic touch. In place of the sage brush and the broad wastes of baking earth, the man beheld here great orchards, with hundreds of fruit trees, laden with glistening apples, oranges and pears, and wide fields were covered with bounteous crops of grain. The once arid wilderness was now the fertile dwelling place of many happy families. "What had wrought this great change? Nothing but the hand and mind of man, guided by the maker of the universe, who seems to have stored rich treasures everywhere for those who will reach out for them. It happened in this way: "One day, a certain man beheld the snow-capped mountains--cold and forbidding--and then he turned his gaze to the earth--parched and dead. He knew that if he could only unite the waters of the snow-capped mountains with the dead earth below them, 'the desert would blossom as the rose.' Before this thing happened, two-thirds of the entire area of the United States was a desert waste. But the waters were brought down, and the great transformation followed. Gradually, the arid waste is disappearing and the forces of irrigation are expanding; and the vast western country is unfolding to the millions who are spreading over its newly-discovered areas of wealth. "Let us turn quickly to the application. There are, in every community, many human deserts--men and women, boys and girls, whose unproductive lives need the waters of life to make them blossom and bring forth fruit in His kingdom. Perhaps they have beheld Him only as a cold, forbidding mountain peak, and if this is true, they should catch the spirit of the Psalmist who cried, 'My soul thirsteth for thee; my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land where no water is.' "In the case of the desert, it is conversion, pure and simple. May the heavenly waters of His grace come to each one of us today, whether it be a first decision to be united with Him, or whether it be a decision to return to Him whom we have deserted. "Our duty toward our fellow men conies before us happily in these words from the prophet Isaiah, 'If thou draw out thy soul to the hungry and afflicted soul, thou shalt be like a spring of water whose waters fail not.'" REFLECTING AND BLESSING --Helpfulness --Testimony Those Who Are "The Light of the World" Should be a Guide to Those Who Are in Darkness. THE LESSON--That those who have received the light from God's Word should gladly reflect that light to those about them. The central thought of this illustration is the responsibility which rests upon God's children in the spreading of the brightness of Christianity to those who must receive it through them. It is appropriate for many occasions and will fit audiences of all ages in which the children form a part. ~~The Talk.~~ "It is said that once upon a time a teacher asked a boy to tell her whether the sun or the moon is of the greater importance to the world. "'The moon,' replied the boy. "'Why,' inquired the teacher, 'do you think the moon is of more benefit to the world than the sun is?' "'Because,' said the boy, 'the moon shines at night when we need it, but the sun shines only in the daytime when we do not need it.' "That was certainly a strange kind of an answer; wasn't it? I will draw the earth and the moon to show more plainly just how mistaken the boy was. [Draw the earth circle and the moon circle, and show the shaded parts as you proceed.] "Here we have the earth with one-half in darkness, and here is the moon with one-half in darkness. This side of the earth is light, while this other side would be very dark indeed if it were not for the rays of light coming from the moon, like this: [Draw dotted line showing rays of light going from the moon to the earth, completing Fig. 70]. [Illustration: Fig. 70] "Now, then we ask, can the moon shine upon the earth all of itself without any help? Ah, no--and that is the thing the boy didn't know, or he never would have answered as he did. Where does the moon get its light from? Yes, from the sun. I will draw part of a circle to represent the sun. [Draw the sun.] And this dotted line [draw dotted line from sun to moon, completing Fig. 71] shows how the sun sends its brilliant light to the moon, so that the moon may reflect part of it back to the earth which would be enshrouded in darkness if it were not for the sun. The moon acts just like a mirror which you hold in your hand and use to reflect the sun's rays wherever you please. [Illustration: Fig. 71] "Sometimes the moon gets between the earth and the sun, and it is then that it does not reflect the sun's light and it is then that we have nights of inky blackness. "I wonder if we have ever stopped to think how very much we Christian people are, or ought to be, like the moon. Just as the sun warms and lights everything about it, so the love of God lights and warms those who turn their faces toward him. We can truly say with the Psalmist, that 'the Lord is my light and salvation,' but we have not fulfilled our mission on earth if we are willing merely to receive this light of happiness, of contentment, of trust and of faith, without reflecting it in every possible practical way. When Jesus said to those about him, 'Ye are the light of the world,' he also said, 'Let your light shine,' and He pictured to His followers their duty of spreading the light of their blessings to the world of darkness about them. Paul touched upon the same great truth when he wrote to the church at Rome that its members should be 'a light to them which are in darkness.' "How may we best reflect this light of heaven? It is for each of us to determine this for himself, being governed entirely by his circumstances, his abilities and his opportunities. But, first of all, we must be sure we have received that light as God would have us receive it. None of us can be perfect, but we can live close to our great ideal and by learning constantly from Him, we shall find the light coming to us more clearly and more beautifully as the days go by. We shall find a deeper sympathy for those who suffer, warmer love for those whom we may have condemned, and an increasing desire to be of greater help to those who really need help. When we have reached this condition--when we have truly received the light--we need give little thought to the manner in which we shall reflect it. "Abraham Lincoln once said, 'I do the best I know, the very best I can, and I mean to keep right on doing so till the end.' Such a life sends its rays down through the generations that are to follow, and its reflected light never fades away." HIDDEN SUNSHINE --Missionary Day --Love How the Warmth and Brightness Stored Away Ages Ago Are Now of Service to Man. THE LESSON--That the true missionary spirit is the spreading abroad of the warmth of God's blessings which we have received. The principles governing missions are permeated with the elements of love, unselfishness and self-sacrifice. This talk may be used, therefore, as a missionary day topic or on any occasion in which it is appropriate to dwell upon any of its attributes. ~~The Talk.~~ "Once upon a time, long before there were any people on the earth and perhaps before there were any animals or birds or reptiles here, the world was covered with an immense, luxuriant growth of vegetation. How do we know it? The geologists tell us so. They have dug deep into the earth and they have examined what they found, and they have long ago determined that this condition is true. It would seem that in those ages of long ago the world must have been very different from what it is now, for the seas flowed over vast areas which are now solid ground. Immense trees grew in those times, and the great ferns and palms and tropical plants grew in portions where now they cannot grow because it is too cold. I want to draw some trees and bushes to represent this great growth. [Draw trees and bushes of Fig. 72 in green.] And also the bright warm sun which, together with the abundance of water, caused them to grow so profusely. [Draw the sun in orange, completing Fig. 72.] Then, the geologists tell us, there came a great change. There were awful volcanic disturbances which caused the sea to overflow great areas of these trees and bushes and ferns, and they were buried from sight by a vast expanse of water. Gradually, though, another change came. The waters receded into lesser areas and the ground arose from beneath the waves. But the trees and the bushes and the ferns were gone. Where? They had been buried deep beneath the mud and sand and stones which the waters had washed over them. Then, after that, God created the monster mastodon and the mammoth and many other beasts which have since disappeared from the earth, and finally man was created to have dominion over the earth. For many centuries afterward, no one knew that the earth was once the place of immense trees and ferns and rank vegetable growth which had since been buried beneath the surface. But one day, some of this old, buried vegetable matter was found and brought to the surface of the earth. By that time it was not green any longer. It was hard and compact and looked very much like black stone. Someone seemed to think it would burn if fire were applied to it. And, strange to say, it did burn. [Illustration: Fig. 72] "Thus was coal discovered. "Ever since then, we have been digging from the depths of the earth the coal which was deposited there in those ages of the past. And it is blessing the world everywhere. [With the broad side of your black crayon, quickly cover the vegetation of Fig. 72. Then, with broad strokes of the orange chalk, or with a combination of the yellow and the red, draw the flames, completely covering the sun, and finishing Fig. 73.] Coal is now the chief of the elements which bring warmth to our homes, our places of business and everywhere that we are spending our time indoors; it is the great factor in our great manufacturing and transportation enterprises. God laid it all up for us millions of years ago! [Illustration: Fig. 73] "Thus do we find a splendid example of what real service is. Jesus came to the earth to be of service to the world. When he departed, He left behind Him the command that the gospel should be preached to every creature--that the light and warmth from His life should not remain buried in us but that we should take that warmth to every portion of the earth, that it might, like the hidden sunshine in the coal, bring life to those in the cold and darkness of heathenism. "Not many of us are able to carry this word to foreign lands or to the distant parts of our own land; but we have an important part in it in contributing our money, our encouragement and our prayers. "And not only may we do this but we may begin right here in our midst to make our school and church a missionary blessing to those nearby ones who need its warmth. Remember that 'we are ambassadors, therefore, on behalf of Christ, as though God were entreating by us.'" "JOHNNIE APPLESEED" --Boys' Day --Devotion Story of the Man Who Braved the Dangers of the Wilderness to Bless the Early Settlers. THE LESSON--That the influence of a well-spent life is its best and most enduring monument. It always adds fame to a good name. The story of "Johnnie Appleseed" is dear to the hearts of thousands of boys and girls throughout America. The writer has listened interestedly to narratives of the late George W. Brackenridge, of Fort Wayne, Ind., who remembered clearly the visits of "Johnnie" to his early home. The story is abundant in good lessons, and ought to be of special interest on Boys' Day. ~~The Talk.~~ "I am going to talk to you today about a man who paddled his canoe along the rivers in the middle west and roamed the wild forests when there were very few settlers in that country and while the hostile Indians brought terror to the hearts of many who had braved the dangers of the frontier. This sounds like a dime novel tale, doesn't it? Yes, but it is a true story. It is the story of 'Johnnie Appleseed.' How many of you ever heard of him? [Govern yourself in the following remarks, by the acquaintance of your audience with the subject.] "It was in the year 1801, that John Chapman then a young man of twenty-six years, aroused some interest by appearing with several sacks of appleseeds which he had procured from the cider mills in western Pennsylvania. The first orchard he planted was on the farm of Isaac Stadden in Licking county, Ohio, and, from this beginning, his enthusiasm developed until he decided to go all through the wilderness as far as he could reach and plant apple orchards wherever they could be made to grow. "One day a lone settler near Marietta, Ohio, saw a strange craft floating down the Ohio river. The boatman was John Chapman, but from that time forward he was known as 'Johnnie Appleseed' by the settlers between the Ohio river and the Great Lakes and as far west as the territory which is now the State of Indiana. I will draw a map to show you where he was and where he went. [In the drawing of the "map," which is, in reality, at the last, the branch of an apple tree, use brown crayon for the "rivers" and green for the "orchards," carrying the drawings forward as the various points are mentioned. Strict accuracy has not been observed in the map drawing.] [Illustration: Fig. 74] "Here is the Ohio river, where he first appeared. [Draw the Ohio river. Do not label the rivers. The names are given for your guidance only.] He had two canoes tied side by side, and they were filled with apple seeds. He paddled against the stream as he turned his canoe into the Muskingum river, and then up into the Walhonding river, and then into the Mohican and finally into the creek called the Black Pork. It took a long time to go this short distance, for he stopped off every little while to find suitable places in the wilderness to plant apple seeds. And these, of course, grew up, in later years, to fruitful orchards. [Draw the orchards in green. Your drawing will now resemble Fig. 74.] This was but the beginning. From that time until 'Johnnie Appleseed' was 72 years of age he devoted his life to converting the waste wild land into orchards. During the war of 1812 he warned settlers against the Indians and helped to save many lives. He dressed in skins and was respected by the Indians, who considered him a very wise medicine man. Many trips he made back to Pennsylvania, whenever his seed supply was exhausted. In every rude cabin home which he visited, 'Johnnie Appleseed' read the Scriptures, and hundreds were helped to better lives through his teachings. He was noted for his gentleness and kindness. He died, in 1847, near Fort Wayne, Ind. "Here was a man, boys, who devoted his life to helping others. Dr. Hillis, of New York, has woven his life into a most beautiful story, 'The Quest of John Chapman,' and others have sung his praises in verse and narrative. Let us learn from him the lesson of devoting one's life to making other people happy. I will add a few lines to indicate all that John Chapman tried to do. [Add apples in red, converting the map into a branch bearing apples, Fig. 75.] But he did vastly more than this. He brought brightness into many a heart during his long years of usefulness, and while he helped to make the Middle West a fruit-growing country, the real fruit of his work was that of helpfulness, sympathy and brightness through Christ, who guided him in his strange work. [Illustration: Fig. 75] "'A sower went forth to sow.' If the kind of ground in which he sowed did not bring forth fruit, it was not the fault of the tireless sower." PUBLIC SENTIMENT --Home Department Day --Unity It is a Powerful Element--An Illustration for Home Department Day. THE LESSON--That the earnest prayers and work of the stay-at-home members are a great inspiration to the active workers in the school. Home Department Day in the Sunday School may be made a most helpful event in the life of the school and in the lives of those who do not enjoy the privilege of attending the services regularly. Many who are usually employed on Sunday, in hotels, boarding houses, railroad positions, and the like, can ofttimes arrange to attend this session prepared especially for them. It is assumed that you have been supplying the members of the Home Department with lesson helps, and that you have kept in touch with them. Souvenirs may be sent to invalids and aged people as well as to other members who cannot be present. The colors are purple and white; the flower, the violet. ~~The Talk.~~ "I am going to draw for you today the portrait of one who exerts the most powerful influence in this community. [Draw the outline of the head, omitting the facial lines. Fig. 76.] [Illustration: Fig. 76] "But before I finish the portrait I want you to know that if it were not for this one we would never have had our beautiful parks or our magnificent court house. It was he who attended to the paving of our streets. We would have had no public library but for him. There would have been no public schools here, and no church spires would be pointing heavenward, if he had not sanctioned them. We would never have had our water works system, our sewerage system or our electric lights. In short, we never would have had any of the great public benefactions but for him. And I am sorry to add, too, that we would never have had any saloons but for him.[Footnote: Substitute words describing local conditions.] [Draw the letters composing the words, "Public Sentiment," completing Fig. 77.] [Illustration: Fig. 77] "Yes, this is Public Sentiment. And what is public sentiment? I think it may be described best as the expression of the will of the greatest number of people in a community. It is the voice of the majority. It is only when people want things that they get them. As the years go by, the people themselves are becoming more and more mighty in directing the work of those whom they have chosen to represent them. "A contractor is not the builder of a public library or a public school. These are built by the people who are united in sentiment for a library or a school; the contractor is only the hired man who does the bidding of the people. The residents of a city themselves bring into existence beautiful streets, magnificent public buildings and ideal health conditions; or else they bring to themselves the saloon and other degrading institutions, all depending upon public sentiment. "And so it is with the church and the Sunday School. The human factor which keeps this school prosperous comes not from the superintendent or the officers or the teachers alone. Its success is due largely to the public sentiment outside of the school. It is the sentiment of the fathers and mothers of these boys and girls, many of whom, while their hearts are with us, cannot attend the sessions regularly. It is the sentiment of you who are so loyal to us and whose prayers for the school have been so effective. It is the sentiment of you members of the Home Department who have shown in every way the appreciation of this school. The knowledge that you are with us is a powerful help. "During the dark days of the civil war there were two armies fighting the battles of the North and of the South--the army that was in the field and the army that stayed at home, the great silent partners in the awful conflict. The latter was composed largely of the noble mothers and sisters, whose daily prayers ascended to heaven while their sad hearts and nimble fingers provided the comforts for the brave boys at the front. "So, with the members of the Home Department, we have come to think of you as 'silent partners' in the work of our school. And as occasion develops, we want you to feel that here is your place of activity--your school. "But we shall remember the words of Paul, 'We have many members in one body, and all the members have not the same office,' and we shall not forget the important places in our school of those who are enrolled in our Home Department." THE BROOK --Gossip --Our Words The Life Which is Tainted by the Habit of Speaking Unkind Words Falls Short of Its Highest Mission. THE LESSON--That the subtle practice of speaking carelessly concerning other people poisons many an otherwise worthy life. The teacher who leads the child to cultivate the strictest care in his thoughts and in his words, as they relate especially to those about him, has helped to lay the foundation of a life of true worth to his fellows. The tendency is toward a habit of fault-finding criticism which not only harms the object of the disparaging words, but which injures and undermines the usefulness of the life of the habitually unfair critic. ~~The Talk.~~ "Marion Lawrance, whose influence permeates much of the work for the advancement of the Sunday School of today, uses a most striking illustration to show the baneful result of the use of words which harm those about whom they are spoken. Standing before his audience, he displays a rose in full bloom. Mr. Lawrance then deliberately destroys the beautiful flower by removing one daintily tinted leaf after another until only the bare stem remains and the delicate petals litter the floor and the speaker's table. During the process, the speaker explains that none but God could have made such a rose; it speaks of His love and His power, of His tenderness and of His care for His children. But any human hand can destroy it. So it is with that treasure which we call our good name--our reputation among men. Through the grace of God we may live so true that we deserve the respect and honor of our fellowmen; and yet, that good name, that reputation, may suffer irreparable injury at the hands of one who, through deliberate design or careless habit, speaks words concerning us which cause us to be misjudged or misunderstood. Says Samuel Butler: "'The feeblest vermin can destroy As sure as stoutest beasts of prey; And only with their eyes and breath, Infect and poison men to death.' "Let us illustrate the point by placing on the paper a little landscape. [Draw Fig. 78 complete leaving the right half of the paper blank.] We have before us a great, wide river, a stream which forms an important channel of commerce. Each year, traffic is carried over its waters which amount to many hundreds of thousands of dollars. Cities have grown up along its banks; in many ways it has been a wonderful blessing. Its silent waters flow on and on through the years, blessing generation after generation of men. [Illustration: Fig. 78] "But, as we turn from the big silent stream and wander through the woods our ears catch the sound of falling waters, and then we come suddenly upon a scene like this. [Draw the second landscape, completing Fig. 79.] It is a pretty little brook, you say. Yes, it is, but we smile as we compare the noisy little stream with the mighty silent river, and our minds dwell upon the fact that they are but reflections of life itself. Just as the little brook makes more noise than the big river, so do many people with small minds cause more agitation and trouble in a community than people whose lives are governed by the principles of charity, kindness and common sense. [Illustration: Fig. 79] "Let us watch, therefore, to see that our thoughts as well as our words are such as to add to the happiness of those about us. Calmness and carefulness will accomplish this. Let us guard well against the ill-spoken word, however harmless it may seem. "Said one girl to another, 'Don't you think Julia is a splendid girl?' "Oh, yes,' responded the other, 'but I have sometimes wondered whether or not she is always sincere in what she says.' "How easy it is to attach a sting to an innocent remark! Our lightly-spoken words may blight the life of an innocent one, for words repeated are like the rolling snowball which grows larger as it is pushed over the fallen snow. As one dog, howling in the night, causes all the other dogs in town to howl, so we may start a needless alarm by a single unfair word. "Let us praise the good, always, for none--not even ourselves--is perfect." THE DECEITFULNESS OF SIN --Sin --Allurement The Modern Artificial Fishing Bait As an Illustration of Seductiveness. THE LESSON--That sin gains its victims through the most alluring deception. This illustration should prove valuable in presenting to the minds of boys of all ages the truth of the seductiveness of sin, as the treatment of the subject brings in a discussion of a sport with which all are more or less familiar. ~~The Talk.~~ "At the beginning of our talk today, I am going to place on the drawing paper the picture of a fish. [Draw Fig. 80, complete.] It looks like a very large fish, but, as a matter of fact, it is a very greatly enlarged picture of a very little fish. In reality, it is a minnow only about three inches long, the kind which the bigger fish like for dessert, and which, therefore, are usually pretty careful where they go. [Illustration: Fig. 80] "Now, I want to see, by having you hold up your hands, just how many of you boys like to go fishing? One, two, three--why, nearly all of you. Some, I suppose are fond of still-fishing--that is to fish from the bank or from an anchored boat, and not move around very much. And some like to troll, I suppose--that is to use an artificial bait and let the line drag in the water quite a distance back of the row boat as you propel it through the water. And others, perhaps, like to cast--that is, to throw the bait away out into the water and then bring it in again by winding up the line on the reel. And some, I suppose, like to use other methods of catching fish. But I am going to speak only of the artificial bait which is used by those who troll and cast. "Nearly always, the fisherman buys his artificial bait from a store which sells all sorts of artificial minnows and other false bait which have been made by experts. And who are these experts? They are men who have spent years trying to find out the best way to fool the fish into believing they see their prospective dinner, when in reality they are going to their death. One kind of bait is the artificial minnow. The manufacturer makes a wooden minnow, shaped like the real minnow, whose picture I have drawn; then he paints it in the colors of the live minnow, and sometimes he puts on some bright metal which whirls in the water and attracts the attention of the fish. If the deception were to stop there, very little harm would be done, but to all this the manufacturer adds a lot of ugly hooks, sometimes as many as fifteen. [It is well to draw the lines suggested as the talk proceeds, and finish by drawing the hooks at this point, completing Fig. 81.] When this attractive artificial minnow is made to glide through the water, the fish, seeing nothing of the hooks or else knowing nothing of their harmfulness, opens his mouth wide and tries to swallow the bait. Immediately, the ugly hooks catch him, and unless he can tear loose he is doomed. He is deceived. He finds out his mistake when it is too late. [Illustration: Fig. 81] "Sometimes, the fisherman uses a spoon hook or other bait in which the hooks are hidden beneath some bright-colored feathers or other material which looks tempting to the fish. The intended victim dashes after the alluring bait, seeing nothing but the glitter of the bright metal or the brilliancy of the colors. He loses his life as a result. "It seems strange--doesn't it--that fish can be fooled in this way? And yet, I am not sure but that people are just as foolish themselves, very often. Ask the drunkard how he happened to reach the low depths to which he has fallen, and he will tell you that when he, as a young man, took his first glass, it was in a brilliantly-lighted place where, it seemed, the air was filled with good fellowship, and he thought he was happy. At that very moment, he was pursuing the glittering, attractive bait which later proved to be his utter ruination. _He had not seen the hidden hooks._ Ask the thief, confined in his lonely cell, how he happened to become an outcast, and he may tell you that it started in school when he thought it a very happy thing to cheat in his examinations and thus acquire the habit of being dishonest. He did not see the hidden hooks which the evil one had placed there to deceive and catch him. "Jesus wants all the boys and girls to be watchful of the snares of life and to live so truly that they will easily escape the temptations which abound everywhere. 'Take heed,' he said, 'Watch ye, therefore, and pray always, that you may be accounted worthy to escape all these things.'" THE MASK --Sincerity --Truth Let Us Ask Ourselves Earnestly if We Are Guilty of Wearing It. THE LESSON--That the world honors and respects an honest man, one who does not fear the opinion of those about him. We recall the words of Jesus, who, in His Sermon on the Mount, warned his hearers to "beware of false prophets which come to you in sheeps' clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves," and we reflect how applicable are the words in modern times. Everywhere, one must beware the snares and deceit of the servants of Satan, who, with pleasing outward appearance, entrap their victims. It is a delight and a satisfaction, then, to find real truth and sincerity in the earth, and it is to be found if we but look for it. ~~The Talk.~~ "It is said that when a thief wants to rob a house, he tries to find the home of an honest man. Why? Because he thinks that the honest man, who never takes advantage of his fellowmen, will be least apt to suspect that anyone will take advantage of _him_. "But the same truth holds good when one honest man seeks to deal with another honest man. A true man, when he comes to us with any plan of work or investment may be relied upon to say just what he thinks and believes. He is dependable. It is a pleasure and a satisfaction, when we are listening to the words of another person, to know that that other person is speaking the truth. But not everyone is to be depended upon in this way. There is another kind of man who tells you something in apparent sincerity, but when he calls upon the next person he may tell the story in an entirely different way. Why? Because he believes that the second person will be better pleased with the revised version. [Illustration: Fig. 82] "How often do we find an attractive face which gains our entire confidence, a face, pleasant to see and agreeable in every way. [Draw face, completing Fig. 82.] And then, how often are we pained and shocked and disappointed when something happens which allows us to look into the real character of the person and we find that his real self is anything but agreeable and worthy of confidence. [Draw lines to complete Fig. 83.] Such a discovery, however, should not cause us to lose faith in our brothers. Truth, character, and a splendid degree of manhood abound everywhere. [Illustration: Fig. 83] "Boys and girls, begin now the formation of habits which will make you strong, honest, worthy men and women. Sometimes you see a man who is fiery, cross, ill-tempered and surly. Again you will find one who is fawning, over-polite, subservient and altogether wearisome because, in trying to make himself agreeable he becomes a bore and a nuisance. Both of these kinds of men have failed to reach the right goal of manhood. We must have backbone, firmness and stamina, but we must be willing to bend sometimes or we are apt to get some pretty hard bumps when we hold our heads too high. Remember that you can't please everybody. Sometimes it is best to say 'Yes' when people ask you to do certain things, and sometimes a flat-footed 'No' is the thing. Remember that if you agree with everybody who expresses an opinion, you have the respect of nobody. Think for yourself, but think carefully. If you choose to grovel at the feet of those about you, you must expect to get stepped on and run over. Above all, cultivate a habit of being so straightforward and above-board that no one will ever doubt your sincerity. Don't wear a mask of sincerity when the real character is less honorable. To do this is to cheat yourself more than anyone else, for the deception is ofttimes but thinly veiled. "In his early life, in the year 1844, Lord Beaconsfield, said, in an address before the Literary and Scientific Institution of London: 'A man can be what he pleases. Every one of you can be what he desires to be. I have resolved to hold a certain position, and if I live I will.' It is not known to what position Benjamin Disraeli referred, but he attained to the highest position possible to any man in England, notwithstanding that his status as a Jew was a strong barrier against his progress. On his deathbed he said, 'Nothing can resist a will which will stake even existence for its fulfillment.' "That is determination. Such determination will make any man what he wants to be. It will enable every one of us to reach his highest ideal. And may that ideal be to shun the dishonest and seek the honest life in its every element." WASHINGTON'S STRENGTH --Washington's Birthday --Trust Through His Great Trials He Remained Steadfast in His Hold on God. THE LESSON--That trouble either adds to our spiritual strength or else casts us down, depending on the stability of our character and our hold on God. This illustration, especially useful on the occasion of the birthday of George Washington, on the 22d of February, is adaptable to the needs of the younger boys and girls, but its significance may give hope and strength to the older ones as well. ~~The Talk.~~ "Boys, how many of you ever flew a kite? Well, that's fine! You will be able, then, to answer the question I am going to ask you. Now, listen. If the wind is blowing from the west, which way do you run to make the kite go up? Yes, you run toward the west, right against the wind. If you run with the wind, the kite won't go up at all, will it? [Draw the kite as in Fig. 84; black outline, red tail.] [Illustration: Fig. 84] "One might think that when a strong wind blew against the kite, it would be blown away like a piece of loose newspaper; but that isn't so. And when a gentle breeze increases to a strong, steady wind, the kite goes higher and higher, PROVIDED it is made of good material, and PROVIDED, also, that someone holds tightly to the other end of the string. But if the string breaks, down comes the kite! Why? Because the very thing which holds it down is the same thing which holds it up! "You may never have thought of it, but each of us boys and girls and each one of us men and women is a good deal like a kite. When the winds of trouble and worry blow against us they may cause us to rise higher or they may blow us down. Today, I want to tell you how George Washington acted when troubles came to him, and if any man in the world's history was loaded down with soul-trying troubles it was 'the Father of His Country.' Listen while I read for you a few sentences from private letters which he wrote during the Revolutionary war. [It will be well to have these and other extracts written so you may read them verbatim.] 'I am wearied almost to death with the retrograde motion of things, and I solemnly protest that a pecuniary reward of twenty thousand pounds a year would not induce me to undergo what I do, and, after all, perhaps, lose my character.' Again: 'Our affairs are in a more distressed, ruinous, and deplorable condition than they have been since the commencement of the war,' and he adds that unless congress comes valiantly to his assistance at once the country will sink into irretrievable ruin. Again he writes: 'Every idea you can form of our distresses will fall short of the reality. I have almost ceased to hope.' These were dark days, and the winds of adversity were beating mercilessly against the man into whose hands had been placed the cares of the great struggle for national existence. He was like the kite bravely battling against the wind. But he was made of good stuff, and there was a strong hand holding the string, for we read again from his letters: "'How it will all end, God in his great goodness, will direct. I am thankful for His protection to this time. I have a consolation within that no earthly effort can deprive me of, and that is that neither ambitions nor interested motives have influenced my conduct. The arrows of malevolence, therefore, however barbed and well pointed, can never reach the most vulnerable part of me; though, while I am set up as a mark they will be continually aimed.' "His trust was in God, and so shocked was he when he learned that the habit of swearing was growing in the army that he issued a general order calling upon officers to set the men a good example, and added, 'The practice is foolish and wicked--a vice so mean and low, without temptation, that every man of sense and character detests and despises it. We can have little hope of the blessing of heaven on our arms if we insult it by our folly and our impiety.' "No, George Washington was not the man to give way under severe trials. He was not like the kite whose framework breaks or whose paper covering is torn by the force of the wind. Under these conditions a kite must dash to the earth. [Draw the rent in the kite with black. Remove the drawing from the board, invert it, and then re-attach it to the board, Fig. 85.] But when the trials came to Washington he arose in his might to meet them, knowing that God would be with him. [Illustration: Fig. 85] "Let us ever remember that God is our strength, just as he was the strength of George Washington." "A MERRY HEART" --Cheerfulness --Smiles To Cultivate the Spirit of Cheerfulness is to Bless and Brighten Other Lives. THE LESSON--That in no way can we serve those about us better than by the kind of service which reveals the true gladness of the Christian life. The Christian religion is based upon principles which lift us from sin and its attendant evils of discouragement, unrest, despondency and suffering, to the higher plane of confidence, hope, praise and love. It is a religion of good cheer, which God's children must reflect to a darkened world if they are to fulfill their earthly mission. ~~The Talk.~~ "I wonder how many of us are getting too busy or too lazy to smile. I see some, who were looking pretty solemn before I made the remark whose faces look a little brighter now--and some have already broken into a most gladsome smile. I'm glad of it. Smiles, they say are the least expensive things we can give to other people, and sometimes they value them more than silver or gold. But how can we smile unless we feel like it? That's the question. Well, we will feel like it if we think right things and do right things, living close to the Master, even if things do go very, very much awry sometimes. The Bible has a good many things to say about smiles, and it isn't at all guarded in declaring that smiles are worth a good deal more than words, unless those words are very carefully spoken. Here is what we find in the book of Proverbs: 'A merry heart maketh a cheery countenance.' So, we find, it is necessary to feel happy within before we can show it on the outside. And then it says: 'He that is of a merry heart hath a continual feast,' which shows that if we are truly happy, everything about us will appear brighter and more delightful. Again, it says: 'A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.' How true this is; you never saw a sour, gloomy pessimistic person who was in real good health, while the one who shows the most gladsome face is either in splendid physical condition or else has risen above his pains and distress in his appreciation of God's blessings. They are always believing that 'it might be worse." "But is this cheerfulness for the sole benefit of the one who smiles? Not a bit of it. We cannot do evil without harming someone; neither can we cultivate cheerfulness without proving a blessing to others. Here, I want to draw for you the picture of a boy who doesn't seem to have this happy disposition of which we have been speaking. [Draw the lines to complete Fig. 86.] Perhaps he looks this way most of the time--it is a bad beginning. We see him here, coming down the street; perhaps he will meet one of the other boys. Ah, yes, here comes another boy; and this boy has a merry heart, if we are to judge from his facial expression. [Draw the second boy.] [Illustration: Fig. 86] "We have no way of knowing what this second boy said to the first boy, but we can tell from his face that he has a merry heart. And what about the first boy? Ah, he, too, has caught it, for his face reflects the smile of the second boy. [Add line to change the facial expression of the first boy, completing Fig. 87.] [Illustration: Fig. 87] "We refer again to the book of Proverbs, and there we find that 'a word spoken in due season, how good it is!' It must have been such a word that the first boy spoke to the second. 'A word fitly spoken,' we read again, 'is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.' But we must choose the right words to go along with the smile, and the greatest danger seems to be that we will say too much, for the same book of Proverbs says that 'he that hath knowledge spareth his words.' He knows how to choose and when to stop. Let us remember that the smile counts for more than mere words. The smile is a universal language understood everywhere on earth. It is the badge of friendship, and that is the thing which the world craves. "A friend of Haydn, the great composer, once asked him how it happened that his church music was so full of gladness, and Haydn replied, 'I cannot make it otherwise. I write according to the thoughts I feel; when I think upon my God, my heart is so full of joy that the notes dance from my pen.' "To the one who needs your smile there is nothing else in all the world, perhaps, that will prove so life-giving. Many a despondent one has been thrilled with vital power, lifted, and ennobled by the knowledge that another heart beats with it in tenderness and sympathy." WHAT IS BEST? --Success --Work Success Means the Constant Employment of Our Best Faculties in the Noblest of Service. THE LESSON--That true success does not depend so much upon what you get out of this world, as upon what you accomplish for others. The magic word, "Success," is before each one of us to inspire us to larger deeds; but let us not forget that many a rich man has made a great failure of life, while many a poor man has made a great success of it. The talk deals with the subject in a commercial way, as an illustration of success in the truest sense. ~~The Talk.~~ "Every one of us desires to be successful. But some of us have one definition of success while others have an entirely different view. Many are sure that the attainment of wealth is the measure of success; some are equally sure that the achievement of political or social honors marks the arrival at the goal of success; and so on. But, no matter how we may have defined success, many of us who have fallen short of our ideals declare in the bitterness of disappointment that we could have reached the top if we had only had the advantages that others enjoyed; if we had been helped at the proper time, or if we could have had enough money or strength. "Let us take the example of the young man who occupies a high position in the commercial world. We will draw a picture of him seated at his desk. [Draw Fig. 88, complete.] This young man is at the head of an important department of a great manufacturing concern, and there are rumors that he is about to be advanced to a place of greater responsibility. He receives a large salary. It is a part of his duties to direct the work of many men in his department. These men come to him for instructions. We will draw one of these men. [Draw man to complete Fig. 89.] What is passing in the mind of the man who stands here receiving his instructions? This is what he is saying to himself: 'I cannot understand why this other man, who is no older than I am, should have such a good position, while I must stay in a place of less importance. He must have a pull.' And he goes away with bitterness in his heart. [Illustration: Fig. 88] [Illustration: Fig. 89] "The fact is that the man with the lesser position spends his time, his energy and his talent in pursuing the trivial, temporary things, the so-called pleasures of life. He is a time-waster. The successful one has won his way by concentrating his efforts on learning how best to do his work. "Do you ever harbor such thoughts about people who have made good in the commercial life? Have you ever, for example, thought that the high place in the world of commerce held by Andrew Carnegie was attained through some strange chance or luck? If you have, perhaps it might be well to take a glance at the main points of his early life. In Scotland, his father was a weaver, whose business was destroyed by the introduction of power looms. One day, when the father came home, he said to his boy, 'Andy, I have no more work!' The lad knew what it meant, and immediately he decided to meet his father's problem to keep the wolf of hunger from the door. He was then but ten years old. It was decided to come to America, and here Andrew Carnegie, at the age of eleven, obtained a place in a mill as a bobbin boy, at $1.20 a week. He writes as follows concerning the great lesson he learned at that time: 'I was no longer dependent upon my parents but at last was admitted to the family partnership as a contributing member and able to help them. I think that makes a man out of a boy sooner than anything else.' At the age of fourteen, he was a stoker in the boiler room of a small factory, and then took employment as a telegraph boy at $300 a year. When he advanced to a place of greater responsibility as a telegrapher, he made his first investment in the purchase of an interest in an express company. While still engaged in this capacity he met Woodruff, the inventor of the sleeping car, and seeing the value of the invention he later engaged in its manufacture. From then forward, as superintendent of the Pittsburgh division of the Pennsylvania railroad, in the oil fields and in the steel industry of which he has long been regarded as the king, his rise has been the result, not of good fortune, but of hard work looking toward a desired object. "The story of the success of the lives of Lincoln, of Moody, of Mozart, of thousands of the world's great men is the story of work and hope, of poverty and inspiration. "So, in the Christian life, Jesus asks us to cast out of our lives the pursuit of the vain, transient things and to center our minds and hearts upon the truest, the loftiest and the best. Success may mean a most humble place in the world. But the 'pearl of great price' is the blessing of peace, of faith, of hope and of love which come to him to whom the Master says, 'Well done.'" MESSAGES to the CHILDREN --Cradle Roll Day --Children The Scriptures Are Full of Beautiful Thoughts for Cradle Roll Day. THE LESSON--That God loves a baby; that both the Father and the Son, through their recorded words, constantly express their love of the little ones. This somewhat "unusual" chalk talk will not fail to accomplish its object in getting the attention of the children and causing them to consider some of the especially beautiful thoughts appropriate to Cradle Roll Day. ~~The Talk.~~ "I want to see the hand of every boy or girl who likes to get a letter. Yes, and you like to get pretty post cards, too; don't you? And the reason you like to get them is that you know, then, that someone thinks of you and cares for you. "Well, then, on this Cradle Roll day, I am sure we would all like to get a letter from someone who cares for us, and so, I will first draw the envelope and then see if there is a message in it for us. [Draw the envelope on the paper in black outline and then, with the broad side of your crayon give it an even tinting of pink, light blue or other dainty color. Then, with your black crayon, address the envelope to your own school, by revising the wording as here shown. Add the stamp in brown, and the postmark in black, completing Fig. 90.] [Illustration: Fig. 90] "Well, here is the envelope. Now, I wonder if there is anything in it for us. [With a sharp pen knife or scissors cut a slit in the paper at the end of the envelope as if you were opening it. Thrust in your hand and bring forth a sheet of paper like a letter only much larger--folded to fit the envelope (Fig. 91). This, of course, is placed there in advance, beneath the outer sheet, attached with thumb tacks so it will tear loose readily. The action will arouse much interest.] [Illustration: Fig. 91] "Well, surely we have something here that looks like a letter or a message. Ah, yes, it is a message of love to the little ones from the Savior Himself, for it was Jesus who spoke these beautiful words: "'Suffer the little children to come unto me, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." "And let us see if there is a message for the little boys and girls of the Sunshine and the primary classes. Ah, yes, here it is; and it is from the Bible, too (Eccl. 12: 1), and this is what it says: "'Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, when, the evil days come not nor the years draw nigh when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them.' And this means that if you are faithful to your Sunday school and will remember the beautiful things you learn here and carry them through life with you, you will be more than grateful in the years that are to come. "I wonder if there is anything here to let these boys and girls know whether God thinks they are worth anything or not. Yes, here is a message from the Psalms which says: 'Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man, so are children of the youth. Happy is he whose quiver is full of them!' And so a man is rich if he has those about him who call him father, and a mother is blessed in the love of her children. "Does the message say anything about how the boys and girls should treat their fathers and their mothers? Let us see. Yes, it says: 'Honor thy father and mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.' And again it says: 'My son, heed the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother.' And then, too, it adds this word: 'Children, obey your parents in all things, for this is well pleasing unto the Lord.' "And is there a message for us older ones on this Cradle Roll Day? I believe there is, for I find here this message: 'Except ye become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter the Kingdom of Heaven.' "And is there a message to the parent which sheds any light on the way they should treat their children? Yes, here it is: 'The rod and reproof give wisdom, but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.' When we are boys and girls we must obey father and mother or suffer punishment to keep us in the right pathway. "And is there a message to the grandfathers and grandmothers on this glad day? I think so, for I find here this message, 'Children's children are the crown of old men.' "Let us remember all of these messages which have come again to us on this glad Cradle Roll Day." THE PERFECT LIFE --Thanksgiving Day --Perfection The Love of God in Our Hearts May Be Perfect, Even Though Our Lives Fall Short of Perfection. THE LESSON--That if we "hunger and thirst after righteousness," as did the Pilgrim Fathers, our lives, though imperfect, will be well pleasing to the Father. Many of us are discouraged because we cannot, or do not, attain to the high ideal of life which we find before us. God's Word seems to bring comfort to the disappointed one by showing him that if he earnestly desires to attain to the highest ideal, his acts are well pleasing to God, even though he falls short of his hopes. In using the Pilgrim Fathers as an illustration, the talk is well fitted to the observance of Thanksgiving Day, but it is also appropriate for many other occasions. ~~The Talk.~~ "Any one of us who wants to find something beautiful about us, needs only to take a good look. Here, for instance, we may see a tall, straight tree. [Draw the tree, of Fig. 92.] And over here, nearer by, we may find a rosebush in bloom. [Draw the bush and rose.] And here is the sun shining in all its glory. [Draw the sun, using orange. Any suitable color may be used for the rose. The trunk of the tree should be in brown and the foliage in green. Draw the distant foliage, completing Fig. 92.] And as we look upon these things we may think of them as perfect in every way, because they are all God's handiwork. [Illustration: Fig. 92] "And yet-- "Let us take a closer look. We find that when the tree is cut down for lumber it is marred by many imperfections, and that a great deal of it has to be thrown away as useless. Somehow, we are a little bit disappointed in the tree, for we thought it was perfect. As we turn to the rose, we are reminded by a sharp pain in our fingers as we examine it, that the stems are covered with ugly thorns. [Add the thorns.] And then we notice, too, that many of the leaves on the bush are deformed and unshapely. As we turn to look upon the sun, we are dazzled by its brilliance, at first, and then we discover that even this brightness is clouded by spots which seem to make it imperfect. Then too, as we look away from it, we find that the sun, in its passage through the sky not only brightens many a dark corner, but it casts many a deep, gloomy shadow as well. [Draw the shadow of the tree, completing Fig. 93.] [Illustration: Fig. 93] "Well, now, wouldn't it be foolish for us to go about finding flaws in God's creatures, like this? Ah, yes. But it is just this way that some of us study our own lives. Just because we don't find perfection there, we are disheartened and discouraged, forgetting that God's Word is the authority for the assertion, that 'there is not a righteous man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not.' But we must not forget that other assertion which is equally true, namely, that they are blessed 'who hunger and thirst after righteousness,' and nothing short of this desire for godliness is pleasing to the Father. "We have before us the inspiring, the ennobling example of the Pilgrim Fathers, who, denied the right to worship God after their own manner in their home across the seas, made the perilous journey to the new world to establish here the beginning of a mighty church and a mighty pattern for all who were to come after them. They were men and women who hungered and thirsted after righteousness. But were they perfect? No. It would be impossible to find, in the world's history a life in which some imperfection did not lurk? Should the discovery of faults and imperfections in ourselves or in others discourage us from trying to follow in the footsteps of the Perfect One? Surely not. We should see in the shortcomings of others an inspiration to live our own lives more closely to the measure which we know to be right and true. The knowledge of our own faults and imperfections should make us more sympathetic, more helpful to others and induce a spirit of comradeship with those who need a strengthening band on the pathway of life. "We know, too, where to take these faults and imperfections of ours. How often has He answered the prayer, 'Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.' To become wearied, to lie idle and despair because we have not attained to the ideal is to commit a grievous error. Get busy! In true work for Him is the surest cure for the trouble. Faulty? Yes. But let us not forget the truth in Dr. Van Dyke's words, 'the best rosebush, after all, is not that which has the fewest thorns but that which has the finest roses." "Let us not lose heart because of our shortcomings, but give thanks that we may attain to the highest if we but do His will." BRING FORTH FRUIT --Children's Day --Fruitfulness A Children's Day Thought for the Entire School--The Live Branch. THE LESSON--That as the fruit tree fulfills its mission only when surrounded by proper conditions, so, also, must the child be provided with the conditions which will help him to bring forth fruit in the Christian life. The illustration here given possesses the unusual qualities of entertainment for the very littlest children of the school, of enlightment for the juniors and intermediates and of personal appeal to the seniors and adults--especially those visitors who may be attracted on the occasion of Children's Day. The use of the colored chalk makes the picture especially attractive. ~~The Talk.~~ [Before beginning the talk, draw the bare limb in brown.] "What is this? A dead branch, did you say? Perhaps. Perhaps not. We are supposed to be looking at it in the winter time, and, of course, it isn't real easy at first to tell whether it is dead or merely sleeping; but if we examine it closely we can tell, because the leaf-buds are formed in the autumn, and if the limb is alive we shall find the little leaf-buds there. [Examine the branch.] Yes, the branch is alive, for the little leaf-buds are clustered everywhere, waiting to burst forth into full-grown leaves. [As you speak, touch the limb here and there with green and then draw the clusters of full-grown leaves.] And here, too, I find some little pink buds, and a little later they open into pretty flowers, for this is the limb of an apple tree. [Add the flowers, completing Fig. 94.] [Illustration: Fig. 94] "And then, as time goes on, we witness another interesting change, because God intends that the tree shall do more than bear leaves and flowers. We find that the pretty pink flowers which have filled the air with their fragrance and gladdened our eyes with their beauty have gone away, and in their places have come little green apples. [With green chalk draw the green apples just large enough to cover the blossoms.] Green apples are good things--to leave alone, so we will not pick them. We will watch and see them change into something else. [With red chalk draw the large ripe apples, covering up the green surface. This completes Fig. 95. If the green doesn't disappear entirely, it doesn't matter. It is well, however, in drawing the green apples, to use as little of the color as possible.] And now we have the ripened fruit of the apple tree. [Illustration: Fig. 95] "This part of the story is for the little boys and girls. But we must say a word also to the boys and girls of the junior and intermediate classes. It is this: That the branch of the apple tree, in bringing forth in its time the leaf-buds, the leaves, the blossoms, the green apples and the ripened fruit, has done nothing excepting that which God planned that it should do. He asks of it no more and no less. That is its duty. The lesson for us is this: He expects us to do our full duty, just as the branch of the apple tree has done. He asks that we bring forth the fruits of service, of sacrifice, of cheerfulness, of kindness, of love and of humility. He has surrounded us with the things which make it easy to do this. Let us find out the best way for us to do it and enjoy real living as we bring forth fruit for Him. "And I would also add a word to the seniors and the adults of our school, as well as to the visitors of the day. We all know that the branch cannot bring forth its fruit unless it be a part of the tree. Christ has said, 'I am the vine,' and unless we get the children, attached to this true vine, their lives cannot bear Christian fruit. He is our support and our life. Just as the branch must have the sunlight and the warmth for its development, so must each one of these children have His love and our love and our help to live Christian lives. "It was the Master who said, 'Herein is my father glorified, that ye bring forth much fruit' In helping these little ones we are ourselves bringing forth fruit. I believe that in this service, side by side with these children in the Sunday school, we shall find our Christian experiences enlarged and blessed. Let us pray, then, that each of these precious lives may be 'like a tree planted by the streams of water, that bringeth forth its fruit in its season, whose leaf doth not wither, and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.'" "YOUNG MEN, AHOY" --Temperance Day --Dissipation John B. Gough's Thrilling Word Picture a Remarkable Temperance Lesson. THE LESSON--That we dare not trifle with the devil's poison. The world has known no greater foe to intemperance than John B. Gough. No words of this great leader have left a more lasting impression than those which he used in his striking picture of the young men drifting in a boat on the Niagara river. Happily, it adapts itself to the requirements of a chalk talk. ~~The Talk.~~ "The great temperance leader, John B. Gough, devoted the best years of his life to an earnest endeavor to save hoys from the evil of strong drink, of which he knew so much through long, bitter experience. Familiar to all of us, perhaps, is the thrilling word picture of the young men who launched their rowboat upon the quiet, smooth waters of the broad Niagara river a few miles above the mighty cataract. [Draw the boat and the young men, completing Fig. 96. It might be well to prepare this first scene in advance.] [Illustration: Fig. 96] "'Now,' says Mr. Gough, as he enters into the narrative, 'launch your bark upon the Niagara river. It is bright and smooth and still; there is a ripple at the bow; the silvery wake you leave behind you adds to your enjoyment. Down the stream you glide; you have your oars, and you think you are prepared for every emergency--and thus you go on your pleasure excursion, thinking naught of dangers ahead. Some one cries from the bank! Hark! "'Young men, ahoy!' "'What is it?' you ask. "'The rapids are below you!' "'Ha, ha! We have heard of the rapids below us,' you laugh, 'but we are not such fools as to get into them. When we find we are going too fast, we will pull for the shore.' "'_Young men, ahoy_!' "'What is it? "'The rapids are below you!' "'Ha, ha! We will laugh and quaff; all things delight us; what care we for the future? No man ever saw it. "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." We will enjoy life while we may, and catch pleasure as it flies. This is the time for enjoyment. It is time enough to steer out of danger when we find we are going too swiftly with the stream.' "'YOUNG MEN, AHOY!' "'What is it?' "'The rapids are below you! Now see the water foaming all around you! See how fast you go! _Quick_! QUICK! Pull for your very lives! Pull till the blood starts from your nostrils and the veins stand like whipcords on your brow!' [At this point, quickly detach the drawing from the board, turn it one-fourth around and re-attach with thumb tacks; then, add the lines to complete Fig. 97.] [Illustration: Fig. 97] "'Ah, it is too late! Shrieking, cursing, blaspheming, over the falls you go!--and thousands thus go over every year by the power of evil habits, declaring, "When I find it is hurting me, I will quit." But these latter do not go by the water way, but by the whiskey way, which is a thousand times worse! No man today fills a drunkard's grave who did not once think he could quit--but he found, too late, that he couldn't.' "'Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise,' says Solomon, and he might have made it ten times as strong and still kept within the truth. Everywhere, and at all times, when a young man starts to do evil, he hears plainly and clearly the cry, 'Young man, ahoy! The rapids are below you!' It is the voice of conscience, his true and faithful servant. But, unfortunately, as the voice is unheeded and bad habits grow stronger, conscience grows weaker, and, after a while, it cannot serve us at all, for Satan has taken possession of it. The evil one can do as much mischief with a man's conscience as he can with his heart. He can 'sear it with a hot iron.' (I Tim. 4: 2.) He can 'defile' it. (Titus 1: 15.) He can kill it. (Eph. 4: 17-19.) And how can a seared, defiled, dead conscience help him to shun temptation and sin? Many a man, honest in his dealings with those about him, is dishonest with himself when he begins to allow bad habits to rule his life and to allow Satan to defile and kill the conscience which has been provided to guide him in caring for his own body--the earthly temple given to him by God as the earthly abiding place of his immortal soul." VALUELESS THINGS --Boys' Day --Ability They May Not Remain So if We Give Them Proper Attention--A Thought for Boys' Day. THE LESSON--That our seemingly useless, or even harmful, traits may prove to be our most valuable talents. This little fragment of industrial history should impress a lesson upon all young people, though it is especially adapted to Boys' Day. ~~The Talk.~~ "During the period extending from the time that people first settled in America up to the time of the civil war those who chose to live in some portions of the area which are now the states of Pennsylvania, Ohio and West Virginia selected their land with great care. In some parts of the land they found a disagreeable kind of oil in the ground which oozed from the rocks below. When a man bought a piece of ground he was very careful to find out for sure that there was none of this oil about the place, and if he did find any of it, it is probable that he made this fact known: [Draw the signboard and the letters, Fig. 98, complete.] To him the ground was worthless. [Illustration: Fig. 98] "It may be that some of the people knew that this oil was the same kind that the ancient Jews used in the preparation of their cement for building purposes, and that it was the same that the more ancient Egyptians used in the preservation of the mummified bodies of their dead; but, as the Americans did not need oil for such purposes, they considered the oil a nuisance. At one time, while a man was drilling for water, he struck such a strong artesian well of oil that it gushed out all over the ground; then it ran down to a river and caught fire as it spread out over the swiftly flowing water. The flames spread down the river and it looked for all the world as if the river was burning up! "They called this oil petroleum--rock-oil. "One day, in 1859, after there had been a good deal of talk as to whether or not this oil was good for anything, Col. E.L. Drake hired some men to drill a well at Titusville, Pennsylvania. The drillers at first refused to work for a man who was so foolish as to spend his money in this way, but, finally, they set at work on the job under the belief that they were really drilling for salt! But the oil began to flow, and some men soon learned how to make kerosene out of it. This took the place of tallow candles, and from that moment the world has been much brighter. The men kept right on with their experiments, until now we have not only kerosene, but gasoline, benzine, rhigoline, naphtha, mineral sperm oil, lubricating oils, paraffins wax, carbon oil and a variety of medicinal products--all made from this once-useless petroleum. These discoveries have brought also the gasoline and oil stoves, gasoline and gas engines and the automobile. Prom the industry has grown the Standard Oil company, one of the richest and most powerful commercial enterprises in the world. So now, in these eastern states, it is vastly different from what it used to be when a man discovered oil on his land. If he finds oil now, and if be puts up a sign at all, it is apt to read like this: [Revise Fig. 98 to Complete Fig. 99.] [Illustration: Fig. 99] "From this little fact of industrial history I want to draw a lesson, especially for the boys, today. Perhaps we cannot own any stock in the Standard Oil company, but we have something just as good, and better. Perhaps we have found in ourselves what we think is a useless talent--useless unless we refine it and cultivate it. One day some people living on a certain street in New York raised a big row because a small, ragged street boy drew pictures all over their sidewalks with chalk. To them, he was nothing but a nuisance. However, a prominent man came walking by one day. He looked at the chalk drawings and knew at once that the boy had real artistic talent. He became interested, gave the boy an education and now he is one of America's celebrated painters. "Study yourselves, boys. Do you love music? If you do, and if you have the talent to become a musician, don't throw away your talent by using your ability for any low purpose. Make music, like Haydn, who praised God through every note! "Do you like to draw? If you are to be an artist, do not use your talent for low purposes. Let your work be of a kind to reflect credit upon you--work which will make other people better for having seen it and for having been influenced by it. "Do you like to speak? Do you plan to study medicine, or law, or to be a teacher? Whatever your plans may be, based on what you believe your best talent to be, do not let your talent go to waste like this oil did for so many years. Treasure it up, refine it, and in whatever direction God may lead you, you may be sure that you will have ample opportunity to let your talent bring greater brightness into the world. And then you, too, would not part with your possession for any price!" THE STORY OF A HAT --Politeness --The Common People A thought for the Thoughtless Who Have But Little Politeness and Respect for the Common People. THE LESSON--That every one who truly fills his high or lowly place In the world is deserving of respect and honor. This story contains a splendid lesson for all of us. There is much in it to start the boys and girls to thinking of the worthiness of doing the humble things in life, and of the respect due those whose place may be more lowly than theirs. True worth is the measure of our value in the world, whether our work be great or little. ~~The Talk.~~ "This morning I am going to tell you 'The Story of a Hat,'--and this is the hat. [Draw only the hat, A, completing Fig. 100. This is the same drawing as that of the lower right-hand corner of Fig. 101, before the face is added.] I don't wonder that you smile. It's a seedy-looking old hat, isn't it? It looks as if it ought to be burned up or else dumped in the ash barrel; but, before we do that, let us hear the story. [Illustration: Fig. 100] "Once upon a time Mr. Brown, a college president, was passing a clothing store when he saw, displayed in the window, a hat like this. [Draw only the hat as in B.] Mr. Brown went into the store and tried on the hat. It fitted him, and when he came out he looked like this in his new four-dollar hat. [Add the head of Mr. Brown, completing B.] Everybody respected the college president and was polite to him. After a while Mr. Brown's wife told him that his hat was getting just a little bit shabby--perhaps just a little bit out of style, too. And so the college president gave the hat away to a poor but respectable preacher, Mr. Green, and this is the way Mr. Green looked in the hat. [Draw C complete.] Mr. Green was not a 'D.D.,' by any means, but he was a good man who was made to suit and fit a certain class of people who could not have understood the big words of a 'D. D.' Well, Mr. Green wore the hat for a while, and then he gave it to the janitor of his church, a man named Mr. Blue. The janitor wore it for a while, until it looked about like this: [Draw D, complete.] You will notice that it was somewhat indented by this time, but it was all right for Mr. Blue and he was glad to get it. There was a man in the town by the name of Mr. White, who had a job cleaning the streets. He was a friend of Mr. Blue, and the janitor gave him the hat. This is the way Mr. White looked in it: [Draw the face under the hat, A; this completes Fig. 101.] Mr. White had a little cart and a big shovel and an old broom, and he worked all day sweeping up and carting off the old paper, the stubs of cigars and everything else which, if allowed to accumulate, would soon make the streets look disgraceful and the town unhealthful. [Illustration: Fig. 101] "And so, we see, this poor old hat had done good service for four different kinds of men. Remember this--that every man who wore the hat was a useful man in his place. Each one was a necessary man. We must have him. Especially is this true of the man who kept the streets clean, for he, just like the man who collects and takes away the garbage, helps to keep away the scourge of typhoid fever, and cholera and other dread diseases, by being willing to do the dirty work and to wear the old hat. Why, just suppose everybody was a college president. Who would wash our clothes? Who would scrub our floors? Who would clean our streets? Who would cart away our garbage? "Now, don't you see that the street cleaner and the 'garbage gentleman' are far more useful than any wealthy man's son who doesn't do a lick of work, who rides around in an automobile at his father's expense and who spends his time at night in wasteful or sinful ways so that he gets to bed at one or two o'clock in the morning and sleeps until nine or ten o'clock the next day? Why, bless your soul, the street cleaner and the 'garbage gentleman' are worth a dozen good-for-nothings like that! "Then why look down upon the poor man--the laboring man? Why not be just as polite and respectful to him as to the college president? God made them both, and each is filling his place in life. Each man whose picture we have drawn belonged to a different class of people, just as God designed they should, and each, if he did his duty in life, had just as important a place in the community as the other. "Abraham Lincoln said that 'God must think more of the common people than He did of any other kind, because He made so many more of them.' "Surely, all this is reason enough for the best of us to be kind and considerate, respectful and polite toward people whose hats would not suit us at all!" OUR COUNTRY'S FLAG --Flag Day --Patriotism A Little of its History and of its Meaning--Some Interesting Facts. THE LESSON--That loyalty to the flag means the fulfillment of duty to God and to our fellowmen.~~ "Flag Day" suggests a patriotic demonstration, and this talk will harmonize well with your decorations and the other features of your program. The talk calls for the drawing of four flags. It is suggested that you prepare in advance of the talk all four flags of Fig. 102, as the drawing may require more time than you can spare during the talk. ~~The Talk.~~ "We have about us today some of the flags of the United States of the present time. I believe you will be interested, though, in seeing some of the flags of our country of earlier days. I will present them to you. "Before the Revolutionary war was begun, and at the time of the beginning of the trouble, some of the colonies had flags of their own, and some of them were very curious indeed. However, when General George Washington took command of the troops at the beginning of the war it was decided to adopt one flag for all the united colonies, and so a committee was chosen and a flag like this was designed: [Indicate flag "a."] These two crosses represented the crosses of St. George and St. Andrew, and the thirteen stripes represented the thirteen colonies. You see, they patterned the crosses after the British flag, because there was no certainty at that time that the colonists would break away from England. This is the flag that was raised over the camp of Washington at Cambridge, January 2, 1776. [Illustration: Fig. 102] "But in 1777, after the colonies had proclaimed the Declaration of Independence, congress ordered that the flag of the thirteen United States be composed of thirteen stripes, alternate red and white, and that thirteen white stars in a field of blue be substituted for the crosses. It was also decided to add one star and one stripe as each new state was admitted. Congress, then in session in Philadelphia, named George Washington, Robert Morris and Colonel Ross to call upon a widow who had been making flags for the government and ask her to make this first real American flag. And this is the flag that Betsy Ross made: [Indicate flag "b."] It is said that Betsy Ross suggested that the stars be five-pointed, as she could fold her cloth so as to make a five-pointed star with one clip of her scissors. Can you make a five-pointed star with one clip? Betsy could! [Note: The writer has seen the simple process described in a sketch of Betsy Ross; it is too long for repetition here, but a demonstration of the method would be an interesting innovation.] "Well, this flag was carried throughout the remainder of the Revolution, and it was present at the surrender of Burgoyne and the fall of Yorktown. But when Vermont and Kentucky were admitted as states, the flag was changed, so there were fifteen stars and fifteen stripes, like this: [Indicate flag "c."] "This flag waved throughout the war of 1812. It was this flag that Francis Scott Key saw 'through the dawn's early light,' and which inspired him to write 'The Star-Spangled Banner.' "It was not until 1818 that congress saw that a mistake had been made and that it would be necessary to confine the number of stripes to the original number, thirteen, though we have continued to add a star for each new state. This is the flag of today: [Indicate flag "d."] "As we look upon this flag, our hearts grow warm with love for our country. We honor it and the memory of those who brought it into being and who died to preserve it for us. I know of no better closing picture than this, which indicates the true spirit of the patriots who died beneath its folds upon the fields of battle--a picture which speaks to us of Him who said, 'Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.' [With heavy black put in the outline of the cross; fill in with orange, completing Fig. 103.] [Illustration: Fig. 103] "Boys and girls, what does the flag stand for? _Loyalty to country_. What does the cross stand for? _Loyalty to Christ_. Which is the more important? You are not asked to answer--only to _think_. Being loyal to Christ makes people truly loyal to country; but, alas, there are many who profane His name while they pretend to be loyal to their country. It cannot be done." THE LITTLE ONES --Cradle Roll Day --Teaching A Word of Appreciation to the Parents on the Occasion of Cradle Roll Day. THE LESSON--That the proper early home training of children for Christ will save future heartaches and anguish. It is well to make of Cradle Roll Day an occasion of profit and inspiration to the parents of the little ones. Perhaps you don't get a chance to speak to them very often. Your words to them on this occasion, when a day has been set aside for the special consideration of the children in whom their hearts and hopes are centered, will best serve their purpose if they are directed to make the parents feel sure that you, also, are deeply interested in their little ones. ~~The Talk.~~ "We are delighted today to see so many of our little Cradle Roll boys and girls--and we are just as pleased to look into the faces of their fathers and mothers. Why? Well, just because we want these parents to know that we love their children and that we are grateful to them for coming with them today to observe this happy time together. "We want these fathers and mothers to know that while we are trying to teach the way of unselfishness and love to these older boys and girls, and while we are waiting for the time to come when these little visitors of today will be old enough to be with us regularly, we are convinced that the home training for seven days in the week is higher and more lasting than an hour of teaching in the Sunday school under the best of teachers. So it is with joy that we know that these parents are beginning with the babyhood of their children to tell them of Him who blessed the little ones and said, 'of such is the kingdom of heaven.' We are glad we may look forward to the time when we, in the Sunday school, may also have a part in this training. "Let us hear a little story this morning: Once upon a time a young lad, while idly spending his time in a grove surrounding his eastern home, carved with his knife in the bark of a young birch tree three words which his mother had taught him to say. [As you continue the narrative, draw the small tree and merely indicate the words and the heart next referred to, completing Fig. 104.] The first word had three letters, the second had two letters and the third four letters. And around them he drew a little heart, as his mother had taught him to do. And when he had finished it, he ran away to his play and forgot all about it. [Illustration: Fig. 104] "Years afterward, when he had grown to young manhood, he returned to the home which he had not seen for a long time. As he went once more to the grove, he came upon a birch tree and stopped to look at some words carved upon its bark, with a heart drawn about them. Memory carried him back to the days of his childhood--it was the same tree, grown big and strong, and with it the heart had grown large and the words were there strong and plain. They could not be removed without greatly marring the tree. Here are the heart and the words: [Add lines to revise Fig. 104 to Fig. 105.] As he looked upon the words, they thrilled him with tender emotions as he remembered that it was his mother who had taught him this beautiful sentiment. 'If I had written there an unkind word,' he reflected, 'that, too, would have been as permanent and lasting.' [Illustration: Fig. 105] "And now for the application: We are told that some fathers and mothers, through a false idea of what is of lasting good to their children, permit them, in their inexperience, to learn to do things in a way which will mean sorrow and anguish in the end. Of course, I understand that this could not ever happen to any of these fathers and mothers and these children! The application is for those who aren't here! If the boy rebels against school, he will bless, in later years, the hand which made his attendance compulsory. If he can see no harm in the use of unkind or offensive words, but is compelled by a loving parent to turn his mind and his speech to lofty things, he will later bless that one who saved him from his error. If, in the years when he has grown through babyhood and childhood to youth, a strong, but gentle, hand bars for him the way which leads to evil companions and bad habits, he will praise and bless that restraining hand when the years of discretion show him how close was his step to the brink of a fatal precipice. "With the same hand which bars the way to wrong must the parent write the words, 'God is Love,' on the heart of each little one. The clear, pure truth cannot be told too often. In after years, as memory brings these children back to your loving arms, back to their little downy beds, they will be comforted with the realization that the words have become so deep-seated that nothing can eradicate them, even after death has closed their eyelids. "Some one has described the eyes of a child as 'clear wells of undefiled thought,' and God forbid that as their eyes are lifted to ours, full of innocence and confidence, we should give them anything but the purest, most helpful truth as Christ reveals it to us. We pledge ourselves earnestly to do this." THE BURNED BOOK --Patience --Adversity How Thomas Carlyle's Work of Many Years Was Destroyed in a Few Seconds. THE LESSON--That there is such a thing as success through patience, and that the Christian should so live that he may rejoice in his tribulations. One of the crying needs of every-day life is the cultivation of patience. Modern life, with its hustle and bustle, and the ever-present contest for supremacy in its commercial and social phases, displays a growing unrest and nervousness. Patience is a rare quality which should be treasured and nurtured. ~~The Talk.~~ "Paul once wrote a letter to the church at Rome in which he said, 'We glory in tribulations, also, knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts." "But we're not all like Paul. If we had been saying it, we might have put it this way: 'We despair that we have tribulation, knowing that tribulations work impatience, and impatience discouragement, and discouragement makes us feel sure that God doesn't care for us.' Nevertheless, just the opposite is true, for we know that 'whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth.' "Everybody has trouble. It comes to all of us in many forms. Ofttimes it is a blessing in disguise. If it were not so, we would not find so many of God's people afflicted in the ways which the Scriptures describe. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph and all of the great leaders of the New Testament, as well as of the Old, had their deep troubles and sorrows. And it is so today with God's people. "Patience is a virtue of which the poets sing. 'How poor are they,' says Shakespeare, 'that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?' And Milton said: "'Patience is more oft the exercise Of saints, the trial of their fortitude.' "So, let us try always to understand, in the midst of seeming great trouble, that sorrow and trial have their place in our lives. Whether they are for good or for bad depends largely upon ourselves. "I want to tell you the tragedy of a book--a great book. We all know of Thomas Carlyle's great work, 'The French Revolution.' Of this wonderful production it has been said that 'It is a history of the French Revolution and the poetry of it, both in one; and, on the whole, no work of greater genius, either historical or poetical, has been produced in England.' I wonder if we have all heard of the tragedy of this great book and the sorrow which came to its author? "One day, after Mr. Carlyle had finished the manuscript of the first volume of the work, completing the labors of months and years, and when he felt at last the relief which had tied his hands and his mind through this long period, he loaned the work to his close friend, John Stuart Mill. Before Mr. Mill had finished reading the manuscript, and as it lay scattered about his study, his servant girl, thinking the pages were nothing but waste paper, gathered them up and stuffed them into her kitchen fire! Thus was the labor of weary, toilsome years destroyed in a few moments. On his discovering the awful state of affairs, it was Mr. Mill's duty to go to Mr. Carlyle's home and break the news to him. Mr. Carlyle tells of the interview in these words: 'How well do I remember that night when he came to tell Mrs. Carlyle and me, pale as Hector's ghost, that my unfortunate first volume was burned. It was like a half sentence of death to both of us. We had to pretend to take it lightly, so dismal and ghastly was its horror!' "If the description of the scene were to end here, I am sure that some of us would see only the darkest, gloomiest side. Let us make a sketch to illustrate this condition. [Draw Fig. 106 complete.] But the description does not stop here. Carlyle goes on to tell how, with the sympathy of his wife, he began anew the great task, and, although it was, as he says, a 'job' that nearly broke his heart, the result was a work superior in every way to his original effort, and he lived to rejoice in what he once considered to be a disastrous misfortune. He received ample reward for his overmastering patience! [Illustration: Fig. 106] "'If thou faint in the day of adversity,' says the Psalmist, 'thy strength is small.' Remember this: _Every shadow has a light behind it!_ It is toward that light that the discouraged one must turn his face. Look up, not down! [Add lines to complete Fig. 107; the hair covers the face of Fig. 106.] No man ever saw the highest success who 'looked down his nose' when trial came. Look up--like the man in the picture!" [Illustration: Fig. 107] THE MAN WHO FINALLY HEARD --Kind Words --The Tongue The Restoration of His Hearing Brought to Him Pain as Well as Pleasure. THE LESSON--That we should guard well our tongues against speaking careless, useless or vulgar words. This illustration is based on the actual experience of an Indiana man. It contains a lesson of such great importance that a chapter of one of the strongest moral epistles of the New Testament is devoted to it. The speaker would do well to study carefully the third chapter of the Epistle of James as a foundation for the preparation of the talk. ~~The Talk.~~ [Before beginning the talk, draw the picture of the man, completing Fig. 108.] [Illustration: Fig. 108] "The face I have here drawn represents the portrait of a certain business man living in an Indiana town. Ever since the time of an illness in childhood this man had been almost totally deaf. For years he tried in vain to secure the aid which would restore to him his hearing, and during all the period of his boyhood and young manhood he could hear only those words which were spoken very distinctly, close to his ear. Sometimes he could hear the thunder and other loud, sharp sounds. [Illustration: Fig. 109] "Then, one day, came a great change! All at once he could hear almost perfectly. What a great time it was! Once more he heard the songs of the birds as he remembered them when he was a child; the voices of the members of his family and the voices of his friends, new and strange, came to him! What had brought the change? It was merely a new invention, by which a disc containing a diaphragm was placed over his ear. This diaphragm gathered the sound waves, just as the natural ear-drum was intended to do. The disc fitted over his ear, like this: [Add the disc and attachment, as in Fig. 109.] Was he happy? Of course he was--but soon it was noticed by those about him that his gladness seemed to fade away from his face and a kind of sadness took its place. [Add the lines about eye and mouth, completing Fig. 109.] What was the matter? Some one asked him the question. And this was his answer--listen to it: 'I never knew, during those years when I could not hear the sound of people's voices, that those about me were so unkind to each other!' "'Unkind?' "'Yes,' said he; 'ever since my hearing was restored I have been surprised and pained and shocked to hear the careless words--the harmful words--which people speak concerning even those they love. I have thought about it a good deal and have made up my mind that the people do not speak these words because they always mean what they say, but because they have grown into the habit of saying unkind things. And the profanity! And the vulgarity! It is dreadful to listen to the language used by many men, and even boys, in their ordinary conversation!' "The man had spoken a sad, sad truth. How careless we are! Even the best of us speak too many thoughtless, unkind words--words which may affect the entire after life of the one who is the subject of their utterance. And how many there are all about us who blaspheme the name of their Maker! "All of us are familiar with the words of Shakespeare, who, in 'Othello,' causes Iago to say that 'he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor, indeed.' Our slighting word may rob some one of his good name and leave him poor, indeed; while the kind word which rises to our lips, but remains unspoken, may retard the progress of the person of whom we might have spoken it. "'Be not rash with thy mouth,' says the writer of Ecclesiastes; 'let thy words be few.' "'Behold also the ships,' says the Epistle of James, 'which, though they be so great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very small helm, whithersoever the governor listeth. Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity; so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature, and it is set on fire of hell. For every kind of beasts and of birds and of serpents and of things in the sea is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind; but the tongue can no man tame.' "Let us, friends, watch this unruly member. Profanity and vulgarity bespeak a vile mind. We trust that our trouble is not so serious as this; but we still have the unkind word, the hotly-spoken word, to watch and to avoid. "Boys, watch your thoughts and words. Do you know, I would rather see a boy with jam smeared all over his cheeks than to hear a 'smutty' remark from his lips? Yes--the jam wouldn't hurt him a bit, but the smut can't be washed off. You all want clean hands and a clean face. It is still more important to have a clean mind and clean speech." FLYING --Perseverance --Courage The Aeroplane Illustrates the Necessity of Going Forward Constantly. THE LESSON--That a life, if it is to progress, must not falter at difficulties, but push steadily forward. This illustration is especially appropriate for occasions which interest the juniors and their elders, for the reason that anything which teaches perseverance and steadfastness in the right can be heard with profit at any time. ~~The Talk.~~ [Because of the details in the drawing of the aeroplane, it may be well to finish Fig. 110, complete, before beginning the talk. In opening, refer to the aeroplane in such a manner as will fit your locality. For instance, if the aeroplane is a common sight, say, "We have all been interested in seeing the aeroplane glide through the air," etc., while, if it has not yet made its appearance in your locality, you may refer to the fact that all have seen pictures of the modern invention. The talk assumes that the aeroplane has not yet visited your neighborhood.] "Every one of us is interested in flying. Ever since God created man, man has been trying to learn how to fly, but always, until of recent years, he has suffered the sad fate of 'Darius Green and His Flying Machine.' For many centuries man has been impatient because he has had to stay down on earth or else go up in a clumsy balloon, which is not a flying machine at all! But, at last, he has made for himself a machine which he calls the aeroplane and the tedious problem has been solved quite satisfactorily, so that we now hear a great deal about monoplanes and biplanes, all of which are classed under the general heading of aeroplanes. I will draw the outlines of one of these flying machines. [Illustration: Fig. 110] [If you have drawn the picture, Fig. 110, in advance, merely indicate the parts as you proceed; otherwise, point them out as you finish each part of the machine.] "This style of machine is known as the biplane, or two-plane. This upper part is one of the planes, and this lower part is the other. This part out in front is that portion of the steering apparatus which enables the aviator to guide the machine up or down, and this part at the back is to govern the side-to-side movements. When the machine stands on the ground it rests on these three little wheels, which are like bicycle wheels. Here sits the aviator, and directly back of him is the powerful little engine which sets the propeller whirling at the rear. The machine makes a noise like a swift-running motor boat or a motorcycle. It starts off on its wheels and rapidly increases its speed until it rises from the ground and sails away gracefully into the upper air. [Your drawing of Fig. 110 should now be complete.] "As you look at this machine, remember that it is not at all like a balloon. The bag of a balloon, filled with gas, is lighter than the air; hence, it stays up without any trouble, unless the bag breaks and lets the gas out. But the aeroplane has no gas bag; it is heavier than the air and it must '_keep a-goin'_' in order to stay up at all. Remember this: _Just as soon as the aeroplane stops, it comes crashing to the earth_, like so many have done, bringing death and destruction. [Quickly detach your drawing paper from your board, turn it one-fourth around and re-attach it with thumb tacks. With broad strokes of black crayon indicate the foreground. Add lines of mountains, completing Fig. 111.] [Illustration: Fig. 111] "You boys know how it is when you are riding a bicycle. Your wheel will stay upright as long as you are pushing ahead, but as soon as you stop the wheel topples over. "Sometimes the aeroplane engine fails to work, sometimes a wire or rod breaks, sometimes the aviator attempts to do some fancy flying which throws the machine out of balance, sometimes the wind prevents the machine from going on in its course. Any of these things may cause the machine to stop going forward and come dashing downward. "You, boys--and you, girls--and we older men and women, are just like the aeroplane in one great particular. In the Christian life, in our work, in our study, in our efforts to do good, we can never hope to succeed and progress if we let anything stop us in the way. How truly does all this apply to the Sunday School. The stand-still boy and the stand-still girl never get anywhere. The stand-still Sunday School is 'a dead one.' Life in Sunday School means movement, forward and upward. If the flying machine stops, it comes crashing to the earth. If the Sunday School stops, you will also 'hear something drop.' And the same thing is true of us as Christians. Praying and psalm singing are not enough. Backsliding begins when Christians stop working--stop going forward. If we would _grow_, we must _go_! And '_keep a-goin'_!" THE PLUM TREE --Mothers' Day --Training The Responsibility of Motherhood--A Lesson From the Tree Nursery. THE LESSON--That constant training and cultivation are necessary to the attainment of excellence in plant life; so, also, the quality of the child depends upon the home training. Mothers' Day, usually observed on the second Sunday in May, is becoming valued more and more in the Sunday School as the years go by. Miss Anna Jarvis, of Philadelphia, is said to have originated the idea in her effort to commemorate the anniversary of the death of her mother. She saw, in the wearing of a carnation on a selected day, a silent and beautiful tribute to motherhood throughout the world. The custom is usually followed by the wearing of a white carnation in memory of the mother departed, while a colored flower is worn for the mother living. The school decorations should be worked out in a manner appropriate to the day and its significance. The present talk deals specifically with the responsibility of motherhood. ~~The Talk.~~ "We have come today with our hearts filled with tender memories of the mothers who have gone--memories as sweet as these beautiful flowers, whose whiteness tells of their purity; whose form brings back the thought of their beauty; whose fragrance tells again of their love, and whose enduring qualities remind us of their faithfulness and constancy. "But today I want to speak especially of the mothers who are still with us, those whose hair is tinged with silver, and especially of those other younger mothers who are today the close companions of their children. "The carnation, as we see it today, was not always such a perfect blossom--no, it is a development of the modest little old-fashioned pink. Men everywhere are devoting their attention to the betterment of things in the vegetable and animal world. We are constantly bringing forth more splendid cattle and horses and sheep, through cultivation; Luther Burbank and his followers are giving us each year more perfect vegetables and fruits and flowers, through scientific cultivation. Here, for example, we find in a northern state a plum tree bearing fruit such as no other northern tree ever produced before. We ask the nurseryman how it is possible to transplant this fruit from a warmer zone to the region of rigorous Winters. He replies that this tree was not brought from a warmer locality, but that it grew here from the beginning. How, then, can it be made to produce such big, splendid plums when no other tree in the neighborhood grows such luscious fruit? [Illustration: Fig. 112] "Here is the explanation: The tree was found growing wild in the woods. [Draw the branch of Fig. 112 in brown and the leaves in green.] And there in the woods it produced only very small, sour plums. [Complete Fig. 112 by drawing the plums in purple or a combination of red and blue.] But with this hardy tree to work on, the fruit experts, through grafting and cultivation, have caused it to bring forth this large, luscious fruit. [With purple, or a combination of red and blue, enlarge the plums, completing Fig. 113.] These men knew what to do and they did it. If they hadn't done it, the tree, worthless and neglected, would still bear little, sour plums instead of big, sweet ones. [Illustration: Fig. 113] "Mothers, the nursery of your home is like the nursery where the fruit experts do their wonderful work. God has placed in your keeping these little ones. You are the expert whose business it is to see that as they grow older they will not bear the small, sour fruit of wrong living, but the large, sweet fruit of Christian service. What they are to be depends upon _you_. The plum tree in the woods could not grow better of itself. _It had to have help._ And yet, we find mothers everywhere who seem to think that the child can develop into a high type of manhood and womanhood if he is provided with a plenty to eat and wear and with the public school and the Sunday school at his disposal. "Within the heart of each mother God has implanted a natural knowledge of how to care for the child. To fail to apply this knowledge is to fail to reach up to a parent's highest privilege. "The Sunday school can do much, but we must remember that home was God's first and holiest school. It is in the home that the child receives his first and most lasting lessons. Let us not misjudge the ability of the child to perceive the inconsistency, the insincerity, of father and mother. Even though the parent be a teacher in the Sunday school, her influence cannot be for the best if her everyday life is wasted in society and unworthy amusements. The father's praise of the Bible loses its gilt edge when the boy sees him bound up in the Sunday paper for two hours, without ever finding time to read the Scriptures. "Let us all, therefore, look at this whole matter seriously. We may each have a part in this training, this cultivating, this producing of better minds, better hands and cleaner lives, but after all, mothers, the great responsibility is yours, for it is into your hands that God has placed the children, these innocent little ones who are a type of heaven itself." THE HOLLOW TREE --Decision Day --Honesty A Figure of the Deceitful Life--The True Test of Character. THE LESSON--That stability or weakness of character are revealed when the supreme test comes. This lesson from nature is planned to impress the truth that we must be worthy "through and through" if we are to endure the test of character which comes to every life. ~~The Talk.~~ "I want every one of you to stop looking at me and to take a good look at the wood out of which the pew ahead of you is made. [If necessary, revise the following sentences to meet your immediate conditions.] You will notice that the pew is made up of a good many pieces of oak fastened together so nicely that you can hardly tell where they are joined. And so it is with all this other furniture, and with the tables and the chairs and the bookcases in your homes and everywhere else. A great many fine trees must be cut down every day to furnish the wood from which all the things are made. The furniture manufacturers buy the wood in the form of heavy lumber. The companies which sell this lumber to the furniture factories send their expert tree buyers into the forests to pick out the trees which will make the best lumber. These tree experts go into the forests and select the trees that they want, and leave all the others standing. "One day a tree buyer, after examining an oak grove, told the owner that he would pay him a certain amount of money for a specified number of trees, and at the same time he pointed out the trees which he wanted. "'But,' said the owner of the forest, 'you have overlooked one of the nicest-looking trees of them all. Don't you want this one?' [Draw outlines of tree, Fig. 114.] [Illustration: Fig. 114] "'No,' replied the buyer, 'I can't use that tree. It is no good for our purpose.' "'No good!' exclaimed the owner, 'why that tree looks to me to be a good deal better than some that you selected.' "But the buyer was an expert and knew what he was talking about. To show the owner what was the trouble with it, he cut the tree down, and this is what they found: [Remove the paper from the drawing board; turn it one-fourth around, and reattach to the board; add lines to complete Fig. 115.] [Illustration: Fig. 115] "What was the matter with the tree? Yes, it was hollow. The owner was a much-surprised man. The expert, by tapping the tree with the blunt side of his ax, could tell that the tree was not solid. We might call it a deceitful tree because it seemed to be better than it really was. "Sometimes we hear of deceitful men and women--deceitful boys and girls. None of us wants to be called deceitful, for the world has no more use for a deceitful person than this man had for a hollow tree. Some may think that they may deceive their friends and everyone else around them, but they get found out sooner or later, and, worst of all, their lives are an open book to the Lord, who sees and knows their every thought. The hollow tree in the forest is certain to come crashing to the earth when a severe storm breaks. The deceitful man or woman suffers a like fate when something happens to reveal their hollow lives to the world. "On this Decision day, let us resolve anew to make our lives of solid worth through and through. We can do it only by coming close to the Master and learning from Him how to live. "The trouble with the tree in the forest was that it was not sound. It lacked _inside strength_. Even a slight tap of the ax proved that it was a sort of 'hollow mockery.' It was a good-looking tree on the outside, but its heart was not right. And isn't that exactly the case with a lot of good-looking, well-dressed people? Why, even a boy or a girl can be all wrong at the heart, though their faces and hands and clothes are clean and beautiful. "Have you ever stopped to think what good eyes God has? He never needs a telescope or a microscope, for 'the eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.' God never beholds evil where there is none, but no boy or girl, man or woman, can hide it so well in their hearts but that God sees it and knows it. "Let us, therefore, on this Decision day, resolve never to let deceit come into our hearts, to make our lives hollow, but to be sound in character through and through." TWO MEN --Ideals --Error Know Your Man Before You Trust and Follow Him--Our Ideals. THE LESSON--That we cannot safely choose an example of true living from among those about us, without knowing their real character. The accompanying illustration is offered for occasions in which children--especially boys--above the primary age are interested. ~~The Talk.~~ "There are a good many boys and girls who make a great mistake in trying to imitate older people; and there are a good many older people who make a great mistake when they try blindly to make a success of things just because other people have been successful in doing them. It is a splendid thing to want to have in our lives the same great governing principles which rule the lives of people who stand before us as splendid models of character; but it is not always a good thing to try to do the very same things that these people do. Why? Because it is likely that we are not cut out to do their kind of work. The Lord may have intended that we should follow an entirely different line of effort. Let us, therefore, cultivate in our own lives the great and true principles which we find in other people, but let us also try to find out what the Lord wants us to do, and then let us learn to do it just the very best we can." "'Blessed is he,' says Thomas Carlyle, 'who has found his work; let him ask no other blessing.' The surest way to find what our life work is to be is to '_do the common things uncommonly well_.' If we do this, our life-work will be pointed out to us clearly and plainly. Therefore, in selecting our ideals in life, let us be careful how we choose." [Illustration: Fig. 116] "A boy, whom we will call John, worked in a certain downtown office. Two men used to pass the window of his place of employment very frequently. These two men were never together--in fact, they were not even acquainted with each other. Here is one of the men who passed John's window. [Draw Fig. 116, complete.] He was evidently a laboring man, as John judged from his clothing, which showed the effects of hard work of a rather rough character. He carried a dinner bucket. John merely noticed that this man passed and repassed his window every day, but gave him very little thought. But there was another man who did attract John's attention. Here he is: [Draw the second man, completing Fig. 117.] This second man was always well dressed, and he appeared to be a prominent business or professional man. Everything in his appearance and manner attracted the admiration of the boy. Without knowing it, John was selecting an ideal--he was studying the people whom he saw and hoping to be unlike this one and to be like that one. [Illustration: Fig. 117] "'Some day,' he said to himself, as the prosperous, well-dressed man walked by, 'when I grow up, I hope I shall be just like him.' He had chosen his ideal. The man was one of the leading merchants of the city, and when John found this to be so, he was still more firmly determined to pattern his life after the man whom he admired. "A short time after this John's folks--his father, mother, brothers and sisters--removed to another part of the city--and to the boy's great surprise, he found that the merchant lived just a square away. Incidentally, too, he found that the laboring man lived right next door to his new home. "And, right then and there, John learned one of the great lessons of his life. What did he learn about the merchant? He learned that the man, while he looked pleasant and kindly, was selfish and unkind. He learned that the making and hoarding of money was his great object in life. He learned that he cared but little for the comfort and welfare of other people. He learned that the man's family was unhappy because no home can be happy when selfishness and unkindness reign. "What else did he learn? He learned that the laboring man who lived next door was one of the finest men he ever knew. He learned that the whole family was so kind and helpful that he soon forgot the merchant and his fine clothes. He learned that the laboring man with his wife had been willing to live humbly and work hard in order that their children might be kept in school and then go to college. He learned that all the children of the neighborhood liked to go to this man's home where everybody seemed to have such a jolly good time. He found that the Bible was opened every day while the Scriptures were read, and that the dust never had a chance to gather on its covers. "So one day, when John was looking out of the window of his place of employment, and received a happy smile from his friend, the working man, he said to himself, 'I've changed my mind. Clothes don't count for everything. To be a good man depends upon what's _inside_, and not what's on the outside. When I grow up, I want to be just as good and kind as this man is.' "Let us all be careful in choosing our examples of how to live. The life of Christ is full of help to us, and the lives of many of His true disciples all about us today give us a practical illustration of the best way to live." TREE SURGERY --Rally Day --Obstacles Trees Need Skillful Surgery More Often Than People Do--Superfluous Branches. THE LESSON--That the life which wastes its strength in unnecessary efforts cannot bring forth the best fruits. That the boys and girls may realize the sad results of forming habits which hinder growth, development and fruit-bearing, is one of the great objects of the teaching of the Sunday school. Rally Day is an especially appropriate time for a lesson along this line of thought. ~~The Talk.~~ "A stranger from the East was visiting a large fruit farm in the celebrated Hood River Valley in Oregon. He was astonished at the size and appearance of the growing apples, and he asked the owner of the fruit farm to tell him the secret of such wonderful results. "'There is no secret at all,' responded the fruit raiser. 'You see, if a tree is allowed to do as it pleases, it usually covers itself with a vast number of useless branches and a multitude of leaves, which are of no benefit whatever except to make shade; and when a tree has too many branches and too many leaves it requires so much strength to keep them alive that there isn't enough left to put into the fruit. In other words, the tree can't bear large, fine fruit if it must also support a lot of useless branches and leaves.' This is the way an apple tree will grow if it is allowed to have its own way. [With the broad side of your green chalk, draw the general form of the tree, Fig. 118; add the trunk and dead branches in brown, and draw the grass with green, and the apples in red, completing Fig. 118.] [Illustration: Fig. 118] "'Such a tree can never bear good apples,' continued the fruit man. 'Many of its branches die, because the tree simply can't support so many limbs and leaves. Notice that all our trees are carefully trimmed.' And he pointed the visitor to trees that looked like this: [Draw the second tree, using the same colors as in Fig. 118, completing Fig. 119.] [Illustration: Fig. 119] "'It is an absolute fact,' added the fruit man, 'that if we allow these unnecessary leaves and branches to stay on the tree they absorb the life and strength which must go into the fruit if we are to raise fruit for which there is a market. So we cut off everything that can be spared, and we get the best fruit that grows.' "'Then it doesn't all depend upon the place where the fruit is grown?' observed the visitor. "'No,' laughed the fruit man. 'Many people think it does. Of course, the soil and climate have a good deal to do with it, and we must prepare the ground and keep it in the proper condition; we must also keep the trees free from disease and insects. But all of this same work has to be done, no matter where the apples are raised, and the soil and climate in many other parts of the United States are just as good as they are here. _It depends upon the know-how!_ "Ah, that's the secret! It depends upon the know-how! "Boys and girls, on this Rally Day, let me ask you: Are you going to let your life grow to be like this tree? [Indicate the first.] Or is it to be like this one? [Indicate the second.] What do I mean? Here is what I mean: "If a girl lets her thoughts run too much to clothes and parties--if she worries about her failure to do the things which other girls can do, and which God never intended she also should do--if she is spending her time reading books which can never be of any possible good to her--if she is becoming fault-finding, cynical, cross, selfish--if she is doing any of these things which keep her from being what she ought to be--her everyday life _needs trimming_! Think it over. If you find any useless, strength-absorbing thing in your life, _cut it out_! "Boys, are you letting any bad habits grow into your life? Are you wasting your time running after pleasures and amusements that don't help you to be better boys? Are you getting chummy with other boys whose companionship is not good and whose words and deeds you would not dare to talk about at home? Are you reading useless books and letting the treasures of literature on mother's bookshelf at home go untouched? Are you trying to find short-cuts to success, when there isn't any such thing, and neglecting the hard work which has brought honor and success to all who have reached a high place? If you are doing any of these things, get out the pruning hook of good resolution and the sharp ax of determination. Trim off all these useless things. Gather them in a heap and burn them. Then, in the years to come, will you find that you have been able to be of use to the world and to yourself. But you can't do it with these useless, strength-robbing things growing on your lives. Among the last words of Jesus on earth were these: 'Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit.' If we are to bear much fruit, we must trim off the useless things and allow the bright sunshine of His approval and guidance to come into our lives." THE PILGRIMS --Thanksgiving Day --Bravery The Story of Their Steadfastness of Faith is an Inspiring Study for Thanksgiving Day. THE LESSON--That the blessings for which we are thankful today have come through those whose faith was firmly grounded. Thanksgiving Day should be one of mixed seriousness and smiles. This chalk talk endeavors to meet this combination in its treatment of the character of the Pilgrims and of the present-time observation of the day which had its beginning in Plymouth colony. ~~The Talk.~~ "The thoughts of Christian people all over America should turn today back to the twenty-second day of December, 1620, when that company of noble men and women, after battling with the ocean waves for two months, succeeded in getting ashore from their sturdy little boat, the Mayflower, and set their feet upon the new land of America. The spot where these Pilgrims landed is now a sacred one. We call it Plymouth Rock, and there we may still see the rock on which they are said to have stepped as they came ashore in their row-boats. "Who were these people? And why did they come to America and start a colony when there were no white people anywhere around; when savage Indians would surely try to kill them; when they would have to labor hard to get any food or clothing, and where they would have to live in the wild country in huts which must be made from the logs which they would cut out of the forest? "The Pilgrims were people from England who loved God and wanted to do His will. But there were other and more powerful people in England who punished them and treated them shamefully because they did not choose to do things which they knew would not please God. Finally, to get away from their persecutors, they left England and went over to Holland where they tried to live as they believed the Lord would have them live. But there they found a rough, immoral lot of people--mostly sailors and soldiers who had left the service of their country and were leading reckless lives. For the good of their children, they decided not to remain there. They then bade farewell to all that was near and dear to them in the old country and started across the ocean to America--the new land. After a voyage of two months, they reached the bleak, rocky coast of Massachusetts, and they knew that if they could come ashore safely, they could here worship God just as they wished to do. "We are glad that they kept a diary of what they did. When they asked the London company to let them start a colony in America, they said, 'We verily believe that God is with us and will prosper us in our endeavors. We are men who will not be easily discouraged.' That's the kind of people they said they were--the women as well as the men--and they proved it to be so. After they had signed the constitution which was the foundation of the first democratic government in America, while the Mayflower was standing in the harbor, the brave company of one hundred and one disembarked from their little vessel and commenced at once to chop down the trees needed to build homes and to provide fuel, for it was in the dead of winter. Before the first winter had ended, forty of their number had died from exposure, famine and disease, but when the Mayflower started back on its return trip to England, not one of the survivors would go with the ship's crew. Here, then, on this bleak, forbidding New England coast these Pilgrims set up the first model government. [Draw a little of the outline of the New England states at the upper right-hand corner of Fig. 120.] They had trouble with the Indians, but the Red Men soon came to respect them, and peace continued for many years. Three years after they had landed, Governor Bradford proclaimed a great feast--the feast of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving! How dear the word has grown. 'Out of small beginnings,' says Governor Bradford in his history of the colony, 'great things have been produced by His hand that made all things out of nothing; and, as one small candle will light a thousand, so the light here kindled hath shone to many, yea, to our whole nation.' [Illustration: Fig. 120] "And, today, this nation, the greatest nation on the earth, still looks back to that first Thanksgiving Day. [Draw the remaining lines to complete Fig. 120.] "To us, it is a day of worship and feasting, and in both of these features we are following the example of Governor Bradford, Elder William Brewster, John Carver, Edward Winslow, Miles Standish and the other brave men and women who formed that early company. We do not go out into the woods for the wild turkey as they did. But we get the turkey just the same. I have no doubt that your thoughts of thanksgiving to God for his many blessings to us this year are already mingling with thoughts of scenes like this: [Detach the map drawing from the board, turn it over and re-attach it with thumb tacks. Change the map into a steaming roast turkey by adding the lines to form the wing, the "drumstick," the garnishment and the plate. Use black for all but the garnishment. This completes Fig. 121]. [Illustration: Fig. 121] OUR HANDS --Visitors' Day --Conduct Actions Sometimes Speak Plainer Than Words--The Important Part Which Our Hands Play. THE LESSON--That we should watch carefully "the work of our hands." This chatty little talk about the hand may be given added force if the speaker will, by the use of his own hands, illustrate the characteristics and emotions as they are mentioned. ~~The Talk.~~ "Today, we shall talk a little about our hands--these most useful 'tools' that are fastened to the outer ends of our arms. "Helen Keller, who has been deaf and blind ever since she was a little child, tells us that her hands are a splendid substitute for eyes and ears, and that their sensitive touch has revealed to her the beauties and wonders of the world. In other words, she _has seen the world with her hands_! "Did you ever see a palmist read a hand? It is a very interesting thing, although most of us haven't a great deal of confidence in the revelations which the palmist finds there in the lines and the high places and the low places. [Draw the hand and put in the lettering of Fig. 122.] We laugh at the mistakes which the palmist makes, even though we think seriously of the true things she speaks. [Illustration: Fig. 122] "But we don't need to go to the palmist to find out what is really in our hands--to find out the real story they have to tell. Look at your own hands a moment Let us see what we find there. "Are your hands the kind that clasp other hands in warm friendship? Are they hands which are busy every day doing good, honest work? Are they hands that take food and clothing to the poor? Are they hands that stroke the fevered brow? Are they hands that help to lighten the burdens of other people? Are they hands that lift up the fallen one and point him to Him who said, 'Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden?' Are they hands that help wherever and whenever they can? _Think about it! Are they?_ "Or, are they hands that clench in anger? Are they hands that crush heartlessly? Are they hands that drag downward? Are they hands that pull backward? Are they hands that strike in cruelty? Are they hands that slap insultingly? Are they hands that tear pitilessly? Are they hands that grope into the dark places and do more harm than good? _Think about it! Are they?_ "Or, are they hands that drop lazily? Are they hands that lie idly and fold indolently? _Think about it! Are they?_ "In God's word, we find the hand mentioned more than a hundred times. It appears constantly as an index of character. So, you see, there is more than one way to determine character than by the 'reading' of the hand. Of the industrious, busy hand, Solomon says, 'The hand of the diligent shall bear rule, but the slothful shall be under tribute.' And again of the lazy hand, he says, 'How long wilt thou sleep? When wilt thou rise out of thy sleep? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep.' What a picture of laziness! "But in no other place in the Bible do we find such striking references to the hand as in the words of the Psalmist. [Insert the letter "S" in Palmist, changing it to Psalmist.] Here is what the Psalmist says: 'He that hath clean hands and a pure heart shall receive the blessing of the Lord. Let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us and establish the work of our hands; yea, the work of our hands, establish thou it." [Add the words, "The Work of Our Hands, Establish Thou It."] [Illustration: Fig. 123] "This is a splendid prayer for all of us. To our visitors today, we extend a warm hand, because you are as welcome as the flowers in May. Ours is the 'right hand of fellowship,' as Paul calls it. Here we have a plenty of work for many more hands to do--willing hands, busy hands, loving hands. If yours are not busy doing a work of uplift and helpfulness somewhere else, remember that we shall be glad to enlist them in service here. The lines of E. A. Houseman, in his poem, 'A Shropshire Lad' show most beautifully the thought which we should give the work of our hands as the days bring new problems and opportunities: "'Hand,' said I, 'since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, For strangers' faces, strangers' lands, Hand, you have held true fellows' hands; Be clean, then!--rot, before you do A thing they'd not believe of you!'" HELEN KELLER --Girl's Day --Seeing Her Wonderful Experience Furnishes an Inspiring Thought for Girls' Day. THE LESSON--That our physical eyes cannot reveal to us the precious gifts of God; only our spiritual eyes can tell us of His loving kindness. Helen Keller's wondrous life is full of inspiration, and a study of it will provide the conscientious teacher with many helpful thoughts. The illustration is especially appropriate for Girls' Day. ~~The Talk.~~ "It happens very often that two people look at the same thing at the same time, and each of the two sees something entirely different from the other. Somebody has described the optimist as the man who sees the doughnut, while the pessimist sees nothing but the hole. So, also, you and I might see before us nothing but an unshapely block of marble, while the sculptor would see the angel in the stone! "All of this proves to us that what we see doesn't depend upon our eyesight, but upon the mind which is back of the eyesight and which receives the impressions not only through the eyes but through the senses of hearing, tasting, smelling and feeling. In fact, our eyes and our ears may be tightly closed--we may be totally deaf and blind--and still we may be able to 'see' things more clearly than we might with our eyesight and our hearing. "We have all heard about Helen Keller, the deaf and blind girl. I will draw an outline of her portrait. [Draw Fig. 124, with eye closed, complete.] [Illustration: Fig. 124] "This young woman has been deprived of her eyesight and hearing ever since she was a young child, and yet her ability to learn, to comprehend, to understand, to really 'see,' is developed to such a high degree that she is advanced far beyond most well-educated people who possess all of their natural faculties. "Helen Keller, now grown to womanhood, has written many wonderful things. Here is one of them: 'It does not matter where we are, so long as we have light in our hearts and make our dark ways ring with the music of burdens cheerfully borne and tasks bravely filled. They say life is a closed book to me. One critic doubted that I could feel the sun, and I believe he thought others felt it for me. But if, indeed, I had so little share as that in the life of others, it would still be true that "'The least flower with brimming cup may stand And share its dewdrops with another near.' "Truly, the eyes of Helen Keller are widely opened to the great truths and wonderful beauties around her--[change lines of the eye slightly, completing Fig. 125]--whereas, the eyes of many of us which are supposed to be wide open, are indeed closed to many of God's blessings. Many of us have eyes to _see_ with, but we use them only to _look_ with. Helen Keller has seen more and done more without eyes than thousands who have perfect eyes, but have never learned to use them. [Illustration: Fig. 125] "Helen Keller should be an inspiration to every girl here today. Learn from her life the great principles of true living. "Let us first ask the question, 'How did she reach the high place to which she has been able to attain?' She must have had help. Yes, she did have help. It came chiefly through a dear friend, Miss Sullivan, who, through patient years, sent the light into the darkness which enveloped the poor deaf and blind girl. And listen: "Never, during those years of patient endeavor, did Miss Sullivan allow Helen Keller to receive a wrong impression of things about her. "Stop a moment and think what all that means! Nothing came into the life of the girl but clear, certain truth. The false, the unlovely, the hideous, the deceitful, the unreal, never came in to distort her view while she was a child, and so, when she later learned of the sadder side of life, through her extensive reading, she was well prepared to sympathize with those whose youth was not so well favored as her own. Let us be careful in helping to shape the lives of the children, never to leave with them a wrong impression which may require a lifetime to remove from their minds. "'It must be,' says Helen Keller, 'that when the Lord took from me one faculty, He gave me another, which is in no way impossible. I think of the beautiful Italian proverb, 'When God shuts a door, he opens a window.' "Truly, God has opened a window to let in the sunshine of His love and care, and this blind girl is one of His brightest children. "What an example to the world is Helen Keller! What an example to every girl who has heard of her great success. Up with a monument to her memory! Build it high and strong! She has shown the world how difficulties can be overcome by determination and perseverance, and to what rugged, lofty heights one may attain, even though he carry the heaviest of burdens!" THE STORY OF A KITE --Conceit --Vanity A Fable Talk to Children About the Ambitious Flier Which Broke the String. THE LESSON--That sometimes the things which seem to be hindering us and holding us down are the very things which we need to hold us up and build us up. In the days of our grandfathers and grandmothers, the children were taught from the beginning to perform many household duties which the children of today know nothing of. Whether it be a cause or an effect, the truth of the matter is that the modern tendency is to get away from the home influence and home responsibilities at a very early age--to break loose from "mother's apron strings." The talk deals with this phase of modern life. ~~The Talk.~~ ~~(By Chas. D. Meigs.)~~ "I am going to draw you a picture this morning, and I am wondering which one of you will be able to tell me first what it is a picture of. I will go a little slow, so you can all follow every line and think real hard what it is going to be! [Begin drawing Fig. 126, at the lines indicating the distant foliage; then draw the tail, and finally the kite frame and string.] [Illustration: Fig. 126] "No, no, no! It's not a wood pile! It's not a gridiron! No, it is not a trap! Where's the boy who said 'kite?' He's the smartie, for he got it right. Yes--it's a kite, and it was John's kite. "One day the wind came up just right for the kite, so John got it out, called to his chum, Harry, across the street, and said, 'Say, Harry, come on--let's go out and fly the kite; the wind is just dandy today.' "So, away the boys went, and before they reached the open lot three or four other kids had fallen in line, and they went along to help have the fun. 'Now, Harry, you take the kite and run out there towards that old stump,' said John, 'and when I pull the string, you stop and hold the kite up over your head as high as you can and when I say 'ready' you let her go.' Away went Harry, and he held up the kite. [Let speaker hold up a song book, high.] 'Are you ready?' 'Yes.' 'Well, then, let her go.' And with that, along came a gust of wind which laid hold of that kite and began to climb right up towards the sky with it. Higher and higher it went till the kite which was really as tall as the boy who owned it, didn't look much bigger than his hat But Harry kept on letting out the string, till the hat looked like a bird with a great long tail.' [Let speaker here shade his eyes with his hand and peer and point steadily up towards the sky and occasionally take a peep at the audience and see the boys and girls also looking up through the roof at the kite. The writer has so caught them at it many a time.] Then John looked down to see how much string he had left, and he let out more and more, and when he looked up at the kite again he didn't look at it at all--because he could not see it. It was out of sight! But he knew it was up there all right for he _felt it pull_! "Now, I guess this kite story is a fable, because in fables kites can talk as well as the boys who fly them. So when the kite got up so high, the story says that it began to want to talk, and as there was nobody up there to talk to, it began to talk to itself, and here is what it said: "'My! but ain't I high today? Never got so high in all my life before. How beautiful the world looks below me! How beautiful the sky looks above me! Dear me, I can't be so very far from the man in the moon! I have often heard of him, but have never met him. Gee! I wish that boy would let go of that string; if he would, I'd go up and shake hands with the man in the moon and ask him how he is. I just hate to be _held down_ all the time. I heard Harry say, the other day, that he didn't went to be tied to his mother's apron string, and that he'd like to be his own man.' Yes, and I'd like to be my own kite, too, and then I'd show these boys where I'd go.' And the more the kite thought of being 'held down,' the madder it got and finally it said, 'If that boy don't let go of that string, I'll _break it_--that's what I'll do, and I'll go on up to the moon, now see if I don't!' And with that, the kite gave a sudden jerk--and--_snap went the string_! "And what do you think, children--did the kite reach the man in the moon? Not much it didn't!' It began to act crazy and silly and drunk all at the same time! And it wobbled, and wobbled and stumbled and tumbled and finally it fell in the dirt, battered and broken like that! [Detach your drawing, reverse it and reattach it to the drawing board; add the lines to complete Fig. 127.] [Illustration: Fig. 127] "Now boys, why did the kite fall, when the string broke? Because the very same _string_ which had _held it down_ was the very same _thing_ which _held it up_! And now listen--don't you boys and girls get as silly as the kite was. Don't you jerk, and pull and tug at your mother's apron string and try to break it, so you can be 'your own man' while you are nothing but a boy or a girl? If you break that string too soon, you are liable to tumble in the dirt as the kite did, and go all to pieces as it did; for--don't forget this--the things which _hold you down_ to Sunday School, to Church, to Young People's Meeting, to _School_ and to _work_, are the things which hold you up and lift you up, and keep you up and build you up into _strong_, hopeful, helpful, useful, happy men and women. Don't forget what a fool the kite was, and what happened to it! Go as high as you can in the world but _don't break the string_!" A STRANGE OLD EPITAPH --Narrowness --Broadness A Talk to Boys Concerning the Narrow Life and the Broad Life--A Contrast. THE LESSON--That it is all wrong to be satisfied to be a Mr. Nobody. Do your best and be a Mr. Somebody. The boy whose days in school and whose hours of serious thought in the home have opened his eyes to future years of responsibility, will drink in the sentiment of this talk and remember the lesson when he reaches the twists and corners of life's pathway which lies before him. ~~The Talk.~~ ~~(By Chas. D. Meigs.)~~ "I am going to tell you today of a very _narrow man_. Suppose we call him Mr. Slim Jim. Later on, I will tell you about Mr. Broadman, and ask you which one you would rather be when you grow up. [Illustration: Fig. 128] "But first, we will turn our minds to a strange old graveyard over in England, a burying ground where there are a good many old tomb-stones like this: [Draw Fig. 128, complete]. If you were to walk among these old gravestones, you would find one there which would make you laugh, even though you were in a cemetery, because the epitaph, on it is the funniest you ever saw or heard of. It says: "'Here Lies the Body of John Blank. He Was Born a Man But _Died a Grocer_!' [As you speak the words slowly, draw them on the tombstone, completing Fig. 129.] [Illustration: Fig. 129] "Did you ever hear anything to beat that? Now, that isn't anything against grocery men. A grocery man may be just as good a man as the preacher himself--and just as respectable. We can't get along in this world without groceries, and we just have to have men who will sell them to us. Then what was the matter with John? Well, just this: His business had swallowed him up! He had given it his whole time for years, and he did nothing else. It was groceries, groceries, groceries, and nothing but groceries. It was groceries on Monday, groceries on Tuesday, groceries on Wednesday, groceries on Thursday, groceries on Friday and groceries till eleven o'clock Saturday night, and if John went to church Sunday morning, sat on the front seat, and looked straight at the preacher all the time (so the preacher would say to himself, 'John seems to be very much interested in the sermon this morning, bless the Lord'). Ten to one John wasn't thinking of the preacher or his sermon at all--just only of groceries--or some big bill he had to buy or pay on the morrow. "Now, if the epitaph had said, 'Here lies the body of John Blank; he was born a man and died a banker,' it would have been just as bad. Or, if he had died an undertaker, and buried himself, it would not have been any better. "Now, John, Harry, Willie, if you want to be a grocer when you grow up, _be a grocer_ and a big one--a wholesale grocer if you wish, and be a _good one_--the very best in town, if you can, but say--don't let your grocery business _swallow you up_ till you are _not good for anything else_ but to buy and sell groceries! Be a _good grocer_, but be a _better, bigger MAN!!_ "Perhaps you would like to be a lawyer; very well, be a _lawyer_, but see to it that you don't _die a lawyer_, and nothing but a lawyer. Don't let your profession swallow you up, and be bigger than you are yourself! Yes, be a lawyer, be a judge, if you will; the world doesn't seem to be able to get along without them--some of them to get people into trouble and others to get them out of it! "Yes, but no matter how big and how good and just a judge you are, be a bigger, better, juster MAN. "Here is another example. We have had Mr. Slim Jim; now let us have Mr. Broadman--broad-shouldered--broad-backed--broad-minded--big-hearted, open-pursed MAN--born a man and died a MAN. [Write last seven words on the blackboard.] Remember this: It is every man's duty to provide for his family, but it is no man's duty to provide a _million_ for them and provide nothing for those who are aged and sick and lame and blind and poverty stricken, and helpless. "That kind of charity which 'begins at home' and _stays there_ is a shame and disgrace to its possessor. It is the kind Mr. Narrow Minded Slim Jim dispenses! "Every man owes some of his time, his talent and his money to the town, the state, the nation to which he belongs! He gets their help and protection when needed. Protection and aid perchance in time of fire, flood or cyclone, and police protection as well. And now let me close where I begin with the gravestone and the epitaph." [Here draw picture of grave and gravestone with the epitaph, "Here Lies John Blank, He Was Born a Man But Died a Grocer."] "Let us read together once more this strange and curious epitaph, and make up our minds that no one will ever have a chance to write such a sentiment on _our_ gravestones." Read it in concert. INDEX TALKS FOR SPECIAL DAYS. Page. ~~Boys' Day:~~ "Johnnie Appleseed" ........................... 121 "Valueless Things" ............................ 157 ~~Children's Day:~~ "Bring Forth Fruit" ........................... 151 "Jennie Casseday" ............................. 91 ~~Christmas:~~ "The Christ-Child" ............................ 43 "The Christmas Stockings" ..................... 22 ~~Cradle Roll Day:~~ "Messages to the Children" .................... 145 "The Little Ones" ............................. 166 ~~Decision Day:~~ "The Hollow Tree" ............................. 181 "The Desert and the Mountain" ................. 112 ~~Easter:~~ "The Doorway" ................................. 67 "Easter Lilies" ............................... 55 ~~Flag Day:~~ "Our Country's Flag" .......................... 163 ~~Girls' Day:~~ "Helen Keller" ................................ 196 ~~Home Department Day:~~ "Public Sentiment" ............................ 124 ~~Lincoln's Birthday:~~ "A Firm Foundation" ........................... 61 "True Success" ................................ 37 ~~Missionary Day:~~ "Hidden Sunshine" ............................. 118 ~~Mother's Day:~~ "Mother" ...................................... 94 "The Plum Tree" ............................... 178 ~~New Year's Day:~~ "Turn Over a New Leaf" ........................ 34 "New Year's Resolutions" ...................... 97 ~~Rally Day:~~ "The Two Flags" ............................... 49 "Tree Surgery" ................................ 187 ~~Thanksgiving Day:~~ "The Pilgrims" ................................ 190 "The Perfect Life" ............................ 148 ~~Temperance Day:~~ "The Key to Failure" .......................... 25 "The Evolution of the Jug" .................... 79 "The Keg and the Bucket" ...................... 31 "Young Men, Ahoy!" ............................ 154 "The Open Saloon Door" ........................ 103 "The Heart of the Trouble" .................... 73 ~~Visitors' Day:~~ "Our Hands" ................................... 193 ~~Washington's Birthday:~~ "If Washington Lived Today" ................... 76 "Washington's Strength" ....................... 136 SUBJECT INDEX. Ability--"Valueless Things" ..................... 157 Adversity--"The Burned Book" .................... 169 Allurement--"The Deceitfulness of Sin" .......... 130 Appetite--"The Key to Failure" .................. 25 Bravery--"The Pilgrims" ......................... 190 Broadness--"A Strange Old Epitaph" .............. 202 Character--"If Washington Lived Today" .......... 76 Cheerfulness--"A Merry Heart" ................... 139 Children--"Messages to the Children" ............ 145 Common People, The--"The Story of a Hat" ........ 160 Conceit--"The Story of a Kite" .................. 199 Conduct--"Our Hands" ............................ 193 Conscience--"The Thief of Character" ............ 88 Constancy--"The Wounded Tree" ................... 58 Conversion--"The Desert and the Mountain" ....... 112 Courage--"Flying" ............................... 175 Danger--"The Mountain Climber" .................. 100 Death--"The Doorway" ............................ 67 Destruction--"The Open Saloon Door" ............. 103 Devotion--"Johnnie Appleseed" ................... 121 Diligence--"The Blessedness of Work" ............ 64 Discouragement--"True Success" .................. 37 Dissipation--"Young Men, Ahoy!" ................. 154 Error--"Two Men" ................................ 184 Evil Habits--"The Cigarette Face" ............... 82 Faith--"Christopher Columbus" ................... 85 Fortitude--"A Firm Foundation" .................. 61 Fruitlessness--"Bring Forth Fruit" .............. 151 Giving--"The Christ-Child" ...................... 43 Gladness--"Turn Over a New Leaf" ................ 34 God's Love--"The Puzzle Picture" ................ 70 Gossip--"The Brook" ............................. 127 Haste--"The Simple Life" ........................ 106 Helpfulness--"Reflecting Our Blessings" ......... 115 Home Training--"Mother" ......................... 94 Honesty--"The Hollow Tree" ...................... 181 Humility--"The Fruits of Riches" ................ 40 Ideals--"Two Men" ............................... 184 Industry--"A Busy Life" ......................... 28 Kind Words--"The Man Who Finally Heard" ......... 172 Labor--"The Blessedness of Work" ................ 64 Light--"The Mountain Climber" ................... 100 Love--"Hidden Sunshine" ......................... 118 Meditation--"The Thief of Character" ............ 88 Narrowness--"A Strange Old Epitaph" ............. 202 Nature--"The Puzzle Picture" .................... 70 Needy, The--"The Christmas Stockings" ........... 22 Obstacles--"Tree Surgery" ....................... 187 Optimism--"The Two Faces" ....................... 19 Patience--"The Burned Book" ..................... 169 Patriotism--"Our Country's Flag" ................ 163 Perfection--"The Perfect Life" .................. 148 Perseverance--"Flying" .......................... 175 Pluck and Luck--"A Busy Life" ................... 28 Politeness--"The Story of a Hat" ................ 160 Prayer--"Christopher Columbus" .................. 85 Purity--"The Keg and the Bucket" ................ 31 Quietness--"The Simple Life" .................... 106 Reaping--"Seedtime and Harvest" ................. 46 Repentance--"The Cross" ......................... 52 Rest--"Warmth and Coldness" ..................... 109 Resurrection--"Easter Lilies" ................... 55 Salvation--"The Cross" .......................... 52 Seeing--"Helen Keller" .......................... 196 Service--"Jennie Casseday" ...................... 91 Sin--"The Deceitfulness of Sin" ................. 130 Sincerity--"The Mask" ........................... 133 Slavery--"The Evolution of the Jug" ............. 79 Smiles--"A Merry Heart" ......................... 139 Sobriety--"The Heart of the Trouble" ............ 73 Sowing--"Seedtime and Harvest" .................. 46 Steadfastness--"The Wounded Tree" ............... 58 Success--"What is Best?" ........................ 142 Sunday--"Warmth and Coldness" ................... 109 Teaching--"The Little Ones" ..................... 166 Temptation--"The Cigarette Face" ................ 82 Testimony--"Reflecting Our Blessings" ........... 115 Thoughts, Our--"The Two Faces" .................. 19 Tongue, The--"The Man Who Finally Heard" ........ 172 Training--"The Plum Tree" ....................... 178 Trust--"Washington's Strength" .................. 136 Truth--"The Mask" ............................... 133 Unity--"Public Sentiment" ....................... 124 Vanity--"The Story of a Kite" ................... 199 War--"The Two Flags" ............................ 49 Watchfulness--"New Year's Resolutions" .......... 97 Wealth--"The Fruits of Riches" .................. 40 Words, Our--"The Brook" ......................... 127 Work--"What is Best?" ........................... 142 
19432	----	HEART AND SOUL BY MAVERIC POST [Illustration] NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1921 Copyright, 1921, by THE CENTURY CO. APOLOGY This book was not written with any idea of being published, but simply because I could not help it. I got thinking about various things, in the lives of people about me, and in my own life, and, after a while, I found that my thoughts would not let me alone. They kept coming back, to trouble and haunt me, until finally I realized that the only way I could be rid of them and have a little peace, was to set them down on paper. After that, I had the indiscretion to read parts of them to one or two who are near to me. These seemed to think that they might prove helpful to others who felt the same way and urged me to publish them. I cannot be blamed very much for conceiving a hope that this might prove true. And, in that hope, I have followed their advice. M.P. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I DIAGNOSIS 3 II THE UP-TO-DATE PRINCIPLE 43 III REASON AND EXPERIENCE 59 IV AFFECTION 83 V FAITH 109 VI SCIENCE AND THE INTELLECT 167 VII HOPE 221 VIII HEART AND SOUL 234 APPENDIX 317 HEART AND SOUL HEART AND SOUL I DIAGNOSIS Many of us, to-day, are disturbed and alarmed by the point of view and the behavior of people about us--especially the younger generation. Girls of good family are seen on all sides, who smoke and gamble and drink and paint their faces and laugh with scorn at the traditions and conventions which their grand-parents regarded with almost sacred reverence. The young men are worse, if anything, and as for the married people of the new era, what they are doing to the sanctity of the home and the bonds of matrimony might seem like a weird travesty of the teachings of the past. What is the world coming to? Are things going on indefinitely, this way,--or more so? If not, who, or what, is to stop the movement and turn it in another direction? What is the meaning of it all? What is to be done about it? Before attempting to speculate on these questions, it might be a good idea to consider for a moment the main, fundamental influences which have always been at work, to a greater or less extent, in determining the conduct of human beings. First come the material instincts. Each individual is born with a large number of desires, appetites, feelings, impulses, tastes. There is also a natural wish to gratify these and the process of doing so brings with it a sense of satisfaction and pleasure. So that if these natural instincts were the only things to be considered, the problem of humanity in a general way would resolve itself into preserving life and getting as much pleasure out of it as possible. Why not follow the lead of our instincts, accept all opportunities as they come, and make the most of them? Is not this point of view, however briefly and crudely expressed, the first principle of existence as it confronts each individual to-day, as it has confronted them in the past, and as it will continue to confront them always? Is it not, in its essence, the starting point--the ever-present raw material--which must be recognized and dealt with somehow in any scheme of philosophy or morality? The next consideration, which follows closely after, is that certain wishes cannot be gratified, certain pleasures are forbidden, certain instincts must be repressed or controlled. Why? For various reasons. The first being force and might. Some one stronger interferes and prevents. Every child comes in contact with this principle at an early stage. It cannot have what it wants, it cannot do as it wills--because the nurse or the mother says "no." A little later, if it undertakes to gratify a certain wish which has been forbidden, if it gives free play to an instinct for pleasure, against orders, it is slapped and scolded. It is made to feel that it has done wrong. And when one does wrong, punishment follows--one must learn to expect that. This same principle confronts the individual in later years,--all through life. First the nurse and mother; then the father and other members of the family; then the neighbors and people at large; the police and the laws. All these embody the same principle, they represent greater force, without the individual, which interferes with its instincts, its pleasures, its wishes, which forbids certain things--declares they are wrong--and punishes, if they are done. On top of this comes the church and religion. In a more exalted way, appealing to the imagination and the inner spirit, they nevertheless apply the same principle. Certain things are sinful and wicked, certain instincts and desires are temptations, contrived by an evil spirit. If temptations are yielded to, if evil is committed, punishment is sure to follow, if not in this world, then in another, a world beyond. In this connection, it is not a question of any particular church, or creed, or any particular religion, but simply of the fundamental idea of all churches and all religions,--the idea that somewhere, somehow, in a spiritual world of some sort, good will be rewarded and evil punished. Crudely and briefly stated, it is the same fundamental principle that begins with the child and nursemaid, and runs up through the highest forms of church and religious appeal. This is good, you are allowed and urged to do it, and it will bring reward; that is bad, you are commanded to resist it, and if you yield, it will bring punishment. This, then, is what we have called the second consideration in the problem of life. There is another consideration, of a different order, which exerts an influence on the acts of an individual; which causes it to repress certain appetites and desires, on the one hand, and urges it, on the other hand, to do certain things against its instincts and inclination. This third consideration is the influence of reason and experience. A crude example will suffice to illustrate the principle. A certain individual eats a plate of sliced cucumbers. Their taste is delicious and the sensation most enjoyable. An acute indigestion follows, however, with great discomfort and distress. On a later occasion, another plate of fresh cucumbers is so tempting that the experiment is tried again, with the same results. Before long, this individual will refuse to eat a cucumber, no matter how fresh and tempting it looks. There is no question of right or wrong here involved. There is no outside force or command, to restrain him. It is his own reason, based on experience, which determines him to give up a present pleasure for the sake of avoiding a future pain. In a reverse way, a certain individual who is tired and sleepy and yearns to go to bed, will force himself to sit up and work over annoying papers, in order to be free for a game of golf, the following day. He deliberately denies his desires and accepts present discomfort for the sake of future enjoyment. This principle, if we look into it carefully and follow it through its ramifications and side lights, is an active and important factor in the conduct of nearly everybody. In its essence, it is personal, its force springs from within the individual--and in that respect, at least, it is quite different from the orders of parents, or the commandments of religion, which are issued from without and which the individual is called upon to accept and obey, irrespective of his own notions or preferences. There is still another main consideration in this question of conduct. It is a very great factor in the lives of many people, and in some cases its force and influence are overwhelming. And it is totally different in its very essence and tendency from the other principles we have noted. This is the influence of love and affection. A mother will give up any pleasure, she will accept any pain for the sake of her sick child. She does not do it because any one has ordered her, or because of any commandment of any religion, or because of any reward or punishment in this world, or another. There is no selfish motive of any kind involved in her thought. Any sacrifice of self, she is ready to make without the slightest hesitation. What she does, and what she is willing to do is for her child alone--because she loves it and, for the time being, its little life seems of more importance than everything else in the world put together. Now, if we pause right here a moment and reflect we can hardly fail to realize that we are in the presence of something strange and wonderful. It appears to be the very contrary and contradiction of all that has gone before. The life of the individual, as it unfolds from the first principle, is a question of self-preservation, self-gratification, appetites, desires, pleasures, as full a measure of enjoyment as it is possible to obtain. This is interfered with by outside force and considerations of reason and experience; certain desires have to be controlled by the idea of good and bad, reward and punishment; certain pleasures and pains have to be balanced against each other to determine a choice. But from beginning to end, it is all concerned in considerations of advantage--what is best for self, at the time being, or in the long run--in this world or the next. Why do this, that, or the other? because you will gain most by it, in the end. At bottom, the motive is taken for granted, whether openly admitted or more or less thinly disguised--self, self-interest, selfishness. Then we turn and look upon a mother and her child--and we find that all thought of personal advantage can be transferred to another. Self-interest can be controlled and obliterated by a new and mysterious principle--the principle of love. There are various kinds and degrees of feeling that go under the name of love and nothing in life is more interesting or more vitally important to study and understand. But in this preliminary summary it is enough to signal its existence as one of the factors in the problem of life. It may be just as well to note, in passing, that mothers are to be found whose love for their children is not so completely unselfish. Mothers are to be found who care very little about their children. Mothers are to be found who regard children as a nuisance and a disadvantage and prefer to be without them. That will be found to be one of the curious side-lights of the problem when time comes to discuss it. It does not alter the fact, however, that love exists, that the true mother's love of her child is the most complete and universal illustration of it. Also in many other forms of love and affection, it is easy to recognize this same tendency toward unselfishness--a readiness to sacrifice one's personal pleasures and inclinations for the joy of another. A father may have this feeling for his son, or his brother, just as he may have it for his wife, or his mother. A man, or a woman, may have it for a dear and intimate friend, and be willing to make real sacrifices in order to benefit them. This, then, is the fourth consideration--a fourth factor in the problem of life--and to avoid misunderstanding and confusion of ideas, we will call it affection--the influence of affection. There remains one more consideration--one further class and kind of influence--which has its bearing on conduct. This may be summed up, in a general way, as love of an ideal, or an idea. Although it is less wide-spread and less potent in most lives than affection for fellow beings, yet it is, in varying degrees, a real factor that cannot be left out. A sense of duty exists, to greater or less extent, in nearly all people. In people of breeding and good family it may become pride of race--_noblesse oblige_. A certain individual may have a strong affection for his home town, the little community with which he has been identified as a boy and man. Another is devoted to a cause, a political party, a Red Cross movement; while others have a strong feeling of patriotism, they love their country, their flag, and they are ready, at any time, to give up something for the good cause. Broadly speaking, and for lack of a better name, we may call this fifth principle in the problem of life--devotion to an ideal. As a result of these influences, the character of an individual is formed, his conduct is determined. At any given time, in the presence of any given question as to what he will, or will not do, the answer will depend on the relative force, or sway, of the conflicting considerations. This is merely stating an application of a general law--that all effects must have their causes. Only in the conduct of an individual, the causes at work are often very subtle and complicated. If the average individual at the present time is behaving differently from the way he used to act, it is obviously because of some change in the influences. Certain motives and considerations which used to be decisive have now ceased to dominate. Other considerations have superseded them. So much is fairly obvious, and very little reflection is needed to locate these in a general way. They lie in the second group of our summary--the control of desires from without, enforced by rewards and punishments. In the life of the average individual, this influence has become weaker all along the line. It is probably less dominating and decisive to-day, than it has ever been before in any period of civilization, ancient or modern. And the weakening of the influence begins in the earliest childhood, with the punishments of nurse and parents and extends right on to the end, through neighbors and public opinion, the police and the laws, and finally to the church and religion, with their everlasting retribution, heaven and hell. There has been no great apparent change in the other considerations of our summary. People are still influenced by experience and reason, as heretofore. They still are moved by their affections; and there are the same class of people who will fight for their country and make sacrifices for an ideal. It may be that the change of character which results from the weakening influences under our second heading, has an appreciable effect on the force of other influences, also. But that is a delicate and subtle subject, which will be discussed later on. For the time being, we may stop at this point: that the startling changes which have occurred recently in moral standards and point-of-view are directly traceable to a corresponding weakening of an influence that has been one of the strongest in human lives. The nature and extent of this process are worth considering in detail, because it is at the very root of the problem and the consequences are far-reaching. And before we begin to analyze it, let us be careful to avoid a hasty and easy conclusion. Because the changes in people's views and behavior seem startling and alarming to those of the old school--that does not necessarily mean that the new tendency is bad and wrong. Any change in fundamentals is apt to be upsetting, for the time being. The new way, in the end, may really be better than the old, and represent progress. Or it may mean deterioration and decline. It will be time enough to discuss that phase of the question, after we have made sure that we thoroughly understand what it is, that has been going on. Let us take one thing at a time and start with the simplest and most obvious. A human life begins, with possibilities of development in all sorts of different directions. The child is taken care of from the cradle--guided, educated. In due time, it reaches an age where it is left to decide for itself and its actions are determined by its nature and what it has been taught. "As the twig is bent, the tree's inclined." This is an old adage of the English language and the principle it expresses has been generally accepted throughout the world. "Spare the rod and spoil the child"--is another old adage which has been almost as universally accepted. Still another adage, expresses a fundamental principle: "Children should be seen, not heard." These adages are sufficient to indicate the basic theory that governed the bringing up of children for countless generations. What do they imply? Obedience, discipline, respect--respect for parents, respect for others, respect for traditions and laws--and with it a reverence and fear of God. The aim was to turn out law-abiding, God-fearing citizens; and the method, as expressed in the adages, was unquestioned for centuries and generally adhered to. It has always been usual and natural among various peoples at various times, to inculcate in children from an early age those qualities which are considered worthy and admirable. Among the American Indians, a true brave was he who presented an unflinching countenance to the enemy, even in torture. Consequently, boy children were pricked and burned by their parents, until they were schooled to accept any kind of pain without a whimper. In China, tiny feet were considered desirable in a woman--so girl children's feet were tightly bound and kept so, for long periods, with great suffering, in order to attain the worthy object. In these and similar cases in European civilization, the stern methods employed cannot be taken to mean that parents loved their children any the less--rather the contrary. Because they loved them, they did not hesitate to do what was necessary, according to their lights, to make them grow up as fine specimens as possible. That was the old school. What, now, of the new? It is obvious that, in recent years, there has been a vast change in the attitude of parents toward children, and perhaps an even greater change in the attitude of children toward parents. The rod is used very sparingly, nowadays. In America, at least, it may be said to be no longer used at all. Among families of education and refinement, a child may still be spanked by the mother or father, but not very often. The significance of the proceeding is not very great, and half the time the spanking is occasioned by the irritable nervous condition of the parent rather than the act of the child. A child may sometimes be slapped by a nurse, usually when the nurse is cross and ill-humored. But in nearly all cases, if a nurse dared to whip a child, or cause it real pain, the child would only have to tell its parents and the nurse would be discharged. And such trifling chastisements as do occur to-day, are confined to a very early age of the child. A boy or girl of twelve or fifteen has no fear of a beating from father, or mother, or governess, or school-teacher. School-masters are no longer allowed to whip their pupils, or even to cuff them. The old adage is no longer in force--it has been thrown into the discard. "Spare the rod--" yes, the rod _is_ spared, but it remains to be seen whether on that account the child is necessarily spoiled. "Children should be seen, not heard"--that idea, is also in the discard. Boys and girls have as much right to their say as anybody else. At the family table, in the home circle, the tendency is rather for their ideas and their affairs to usurp the conversation. Their impressions are fresher and more animated, and they are more abreast of the latest up-to-date topics. An attitude of respect and reverence for the opinions and notions of their parents, or grand-parents, would hardly be expected of them. So many of the things to be talked about--motors, wireless, airplanes, new wrinkles and changed conditions--are better understood by them than the old people. It is easy for them to get the feeling that the old people's ideas are rather moth-eaten and of not much account. It is for the rising generation to tell and explain what's doing now and for the setting generation to listen and make the most of it. Of course, this is not meant to imply that children have ceased to have any respect for their parents. In any particular case, it is a question of degree, depending upon the quality of the children, the quality of the parents, the various conditions and influences of the family life. It is the general tendency we are looking for--the underlying principle--which makes itself felt to a greater or less extent, according to circumstances. It is unquestionably true that the average child to-day is less often and less severely punished than the child of the past. If it disobeys, it has less fear of the consequences, so the importance of obedience becomes a dwindling factor in its mental attitude and its behavior. It learns to take orders with a grain of salt and as often as may be, it disregards them, because they are not what it likes. That is the beginning of a tendency--the first bending of a twig. As the twig goes on growing with this slant, and the horizon of the boy and girl opens out beyond the family circle to a larger world, existing conditions are such as to encourage a continuation of the same tendency. The selfish instincts and desires of the individual are opposed by the same kind of influences and restraints that have been in force since the beginning of civilization, but less effectively. And let us bear clearly in mind that, for the time being, we are confining our attention to the forces which act on the individual from without. That is the thread we are following--the second consideration in our summary. The influences and restraints which act on the boy or girl, as they go forth from the home circle, are of various forms and kinds, but they may be grouped in a few simple classes. First: The school with its teachers and teachings. Second: The influence of example and imitation--what others of their age and kind are doing. Third: The influence of public opinion, of tradition and customs--what everybody seems to think is all right and approves, on the one hand, and what is considered wrong and unworthy, on the other. Fourth: Laws and regulations of constituted authorities. Fifth: Sunday school and church--the religious influence with its standards of wickedness and goodness. If we consider these in order, we are not impressed by any striking change in the school influence. In many respects, no doubt, schools are better planned and more intelligently managed than they ever were before. More attention is paid to ventilation, hygiene, recreation, on the one hand; and on the other the methods employed in imparting book knowledge are probably more enlightened. As regards the question we are discussing--obedience, discipline, respect for authority--on the whole, there has probably been no great change. In the class-room and throughout the school régime, strict obedience is still maintained as an essential requisite, just as it has always been. The punishments and penalties for disobedience are perhaps a little less severe and drastic, but without any real difference in effect. The only question worth raising in this connection is how far school-teachers and school-rules are taken to heart by the average boy or girl--how far they are made to apply to their notions and motives, when school is left behind. School-books, school-teachers and school-discipline are so apt to be bunched together and relegated to a special corner of the mind. Our second group--the influence of example and imitation--has probably always been a more important factor in shaping conduct and character. What the older boys, just above you, do and believe, makes a lot of difference to you, if you are a boy. It is no question here of old-fashioned precepts or theories, handed down by parents, grandmothers or school-teachers, to be taken with a grain of salt. It is something living and vital, which concerns you directly. You look up to the older boys: you want to be like them; and approved of by them. What they think and do may be at variance with the ideas of nurse, mother and school-master, but if it is good enough for them, it is good enough for you. It is a practical standard which you can't help being judged by. If you fail to live up to it, or refuse to accept it and try to act differently, there is a sure penalty. You will be sneered at, disliked, looked down upon, or laughed at. If you are a girl, the same principle applies. There is nothing new about the principle. It is as old as the hills and universal. Is the effect of it to-day on the forming character any different from what it has been, in the past? Undoubtedly. A moment's reflection will show why and how this must be so. Whatever the nature and influence of the family bringing-up may have been, in any particular case, the general tendency toward lack of discipline and disregard for authority can hardly fail to be reflected in the prevailing standards of the boys and girls to be found at any school. They have no connection with school regulations or school penalties. It is the fundamental question of instincts, desires, and notions--the attitude toward themselves and toward life outside the school-room which they are going to take with them where-ever they go. The tendency begun at home finds reinforcement and further development in the boy or girl by example and contact with others, who are headed the same way. Next comes the third group: The influence of public opinion--of tradition and customs. There is no mistaking the fact that in the present generation there have been many striking changes in the prevailing customs, as they apply to the behavior and conduct of individuals. The growing boys and girls see these changes taking place on every hand. When mother and father were young, Sunday was a day set aside for church-going and dull and decorous behavior. Games and fun of all kinds were laid away, everybody put on their best clothes and sat around and talked, or took quiet walks with an overhanging air of seemly propriety. To-day there are tennis and golf and baseball games and dinner-parties and gambling at the bridge-table, in which mother and father participate along with the rest. It used to be considered improper for a girl of good family to go out at night to any kind of party without being accompanied by a chaperon. Nowadays, the girl who is obliged to take a chaperon with her wherever she goes, is liable to be laughed at by her up-to-date friends. It was not so long ago that in any respectable community, a woman who painted her face, smoked cigarettes, drank cocktails and gambled with the men, would have been considered a shocking spectacle of depravity that no self-respecting wife, or mother, could accept or tolerate. Nowadays, the growing boy and girl have only to open their eyes to see women doing such things everywhere--as likely as not their aunts and cousins, or their own mothers. Examples of this nature could be given in great variety, but enough has been suggested to show the trend. In another connection it will be interesting to discuss these manifestations in greater detail and reflect on their cause and meaning. For the present, it is sufficient to indicate that the social customs have changed and are changing very materially. Under such conditions, it would not be natural for young people to be unduly impressed by them. Such standards are so unstable and they differ so much to-day from what they were yesterday, and they differ so much in different circles and even in different families, that their force and importance are not very compelling. The authority of past customs has undergone a process of confusion and weakening, much the same as parental authority. There is less respect for it on the part of the new generation. The same thing is true of traditions and public opinion. Traditions have been modified and lost sight of in the new movement, and public opinion on many questions is to-day so confused and indefinite as hardly to exist. Some people still think that divorce and re-marriage is shocking. Other people thoroughly approve of divorce, and believe that when a marriage has proved unsatisfactory and objectionable, it is right and best to call it off and look for something better. Some people think it wrong for young people to run to the picture-shows and see baby vampires and demoralizing examples of licence and misconduct; others are enthusiastic about the educational value of the movies and encourage their children to go as often as they like. Some people disapprove violently of the way young people dance together and of the present attitude of girls and boys toward one another; while others accept it as a part of the new era of emancipation and enlightenment which is all in the way of progress. There is practically no real public opinion to-day on these, and many other similar questions. A diversity of individual opinions and notions has taken its place, which young people are more or less free to follow or ignore, as circumstances may determine. Yet it is not so long ago that public opinion in most communities was a firmly established, vital force. It was generally recognized and carefully respected by anybody, who wished to be considered respectable. Certain acts, certain kinds of conduct, were considered immoral, or shocking, or in bad taste and those who defied public opinion were made to pay the penalty. They were given the cold shoulder, cut off the visiting-list and made to feel the stigma of disapproval. If a girl sneaked off alone with boys in the dark, or was caught smoking cigarettes--if a married man was seen consorting with a divorcee--if a woman drank highballs and gambled and broke up a happy home--if any member of the community did any one of a number of things which were considered improper, or unworthy, or immoral, or dishonorable, public opinion was sternly in evidence, unquestioned and unquestionable, to judge and to sentence. Young people learned to take account of this consideration, just as their mothers and fathers did. They grew up with respect for it. In the new generation the thing itself has lost greatly in consistency and force, and the young people see no reason to be much concerned about it. In the fourth group, are included the laws and regulations of constituted authorities. For the most part these find their chief representative in the policeman, with the jail and law-court, as a background behind him. About the only change in this influence lies in the mental attitude of the average individual. A generation ago, people who got arrested were usually thieves, or drunkards, or crooks and criminals of some kind. To be a law-breaker and in the clutches of the police was something that a reputable citizen shuddered at. The police were the guardians of all good people, majestic, respected and a little awe-inspiring. Nowadays, people of all sorts and kinds are constantly getting into trouble with the police, and getting arrested, and being hauled to court and fined before the same bar of justice as the crooks and drunkards. It is usually in connection with automobile driving. They are law-breakers--they know it and are caught at it. And since the prohibition laws have gone into effect, another crop of law-breakers has sprung up on every hand. Deliberately and defiantly they disregard the law and scoff at it. In addition to this matter of the police, there is a growing tendency on the part of the average person to question the worthiness and integrity of officials and representatives of government, all along the line. Aldermen, commissioners, mayors of cities--even senators of the United States--are frequent objects of mistrust, of sneering disrespect. Political scandals and corrupt deals in high places are commonplace topics in any community. So young people, looking about and absorbing ideas, under these conditions, are inclined to have a lessened respect for constituted authorities and the laws. Above and beyond this, having a deeper significance and effects that are more intimate and constant and far-reaching, is the change which has been taking place in the influences of the fifth and last group--Sunday school and church--the force of religion. This is such a delicate subject, so close to the hearts of so many people and having so many variations and degrees in different individuals, in different families, in different communities, in different churches, that it is extremely difficult to discuss. It is largely a matter of private sentiment, of vague personal feelings for which the average person is unable to find adequate expression. No sooner is the subject broached than the individual mind takes refuge in a defensive attitude. As it does not intend to be disturbed in its own spiritual attitude and beliefs, it is ready to seize the first opportunity to raise objections. Let me reassure such minds by saying that I am quite willing to agree with them concerning the good that is in their minister, or their church, or any other church, or religion they may be interested in. To the best of my knowledge and belief, the purpose and influence of all churches and all religions has always been in the direction of higher thoughts and more exalted motives of conduct. This is no less so to-day than it has been in the past. The change that has occurred is in the attitude of the new generation toward the teachings of the church and the consequent weakening of its influence. Not much reflection or observation is required to arrive at a general idea of the nature and extent of this tendency. In most Christian homes it has been the custom to teach children to say their prayers every night before going to bed. And in teaching them to pray, the idea has been instilled in their minds that the all-wise Lord is listening to them and watching over them. Mothers and Fathers have accustomed them to the belief that no act of theirs--no matter how carefully they may conceal it from the human beings about them--can ever escape the all-seeing eye of the Lord. Children have believed this from time immemorial and the Sunday school and church have encouraged and strengthened this belief, at all stages of their growth. And along with this, as we have observed, went the idea of divine, everlasting justice and retribution--the punishment of evil and the regard of good, if not in this world, then surely in the greater world beyond. Heaven and hell have for centuries been pictured as awe-inspiring realities, established by the Bible, expounded and thundered from pulpits. Children found, as they grew up, that the idea was accepted and shared by mothers, fathers, neighbors--everybody in the community entitled to respect or consideration. In trouble or sickness, they turned to the Lord for comfort and help and those who yielded to temptation and ignored His commandments were in danger of eternal damnation. When people believe such a doctrine, when it is a living conviction in their hearts and souls, no greater influence could be imagined for controlling their material instincts and desires. We have only to refer back to the days of the martyrs and saints to realize what the principle is capable of when it is fully applied. As compared to eternal salvation and everlasting bliss--how petty and unimportant are the temporary experiences of the body. The great mass of normal human beings, while accepting and believing the doctrine, have never deemed it necessary, or practical, to carry it too far. But always in the past, so far as we know, the average individual has been influenced to a very considerable extent by his religious beliefs. The more deeply and intensely he _believed_ in the teachings, the greater their influence in controlling his acts. If we turn to the present generation, we find on all sides, evidences of a growing notion that many of the statements contained in the Bible will no longer hold water, when put to the test of scientific enlightenment. A minister of the gospel in this church, and another in that, announces from the pulpit that it is no longer possible for him to accept the doctrines of hell's fire and eternal damnation. Others follow their example and preach sermons, accordingly, to justify this stand. Next the question of heaven is brought into question by a conscientious divine, who expounds the conviction that it should be accepted in an allegorical meaning, not literally--that instead of being a paradise inhabited by the souls of the elect, it should be considered rather a state of mind of living mortals who behave rightly. Heaven and hell, a jealous and all-mighty Being, seated on a majestic throne, watching and judging each act of mortal man, punishing and rewarding, through all eternity--these and many other biblical teachings, which for centuries awed the imagination and possessed the souls of humble men and women, have gradually been brought into question. Some people are inclined to lay blame for this on the churches and the ministers. But that is superficial thinking. The causes for the change were not within the churches, but outside, and the ministers of the gospel, though human beings like the rest of us, were among the very last to take cognizance of them. The doubts and questions and misgivings evidently began, some time ago, among practical, thoughtful minds of scientific training. Certain statements in the Bible, in the light of modern investigation, were found to be inaccurate. If parts of it were founded on the ignorance of men of more or less primitive instruction, it is easy to see where this line of reasoning was bound to lead. In addition to the statements of fact, many of the ideas and assumptions set forth in the Bible seemed crude, narrow, cruel--as primitive as the lives of those early peoples among whom it came into existence. The moral code contained in it--the essence of its religious significance--was undoubtedly sound and eternally true and very possibly inspired from on high, but the details, the images, the formal conceptions were decidedly antiquated and unimpressive to the enlightened spirit of our advanced civilization. This growing point-of-view began to express itself quite noticeably in the past generation, at least in America. Thoughtful men, when they arrived at it, were inclined to keep it to themselves. They did not care to disturb the simple, whole-souled faith of their wives and mothers and children. But when these men went to church with the family, and had to listen to the literal, orthodox expoundings of antiquated dogmas, they were apt to feel mildly bored and annoyed. They began to beg off from going to church. Then, little by little, in the various church congregations, there was a disquieting falling off in the attendance of men-folk. Then some of these men began to exchange their views quietly with others, who felt the same way. Articles were written, here and there, calling certain dogmas into question--and women were sometimes led to take part in the discussions and face the conclusions. Women, as has been observed from time immemorial, are by nature more conservative than men, more inclined to accept existing conventions and be governed by traditions. They are also more impressionable and the outward forms of church service mean more to them. Religious stimulant can come to them through their feelings and imagination without greatly involving the intellect. The same is true of children. So it has happened that while the men questioned, lost faith and balked at church-going, the women and children kept on dutifully, for the most part content to accept things as they had always been. But the contagion of advanced thought was in the air, spreading among progressive men, reacting to a certain extent among women, and it was probably not until this had been going on for some time that it began to be taken into account by the clergy. Sooner or later it had to be, if the church was to preserve any harmony with the thoughts of its congregation. At the present time, things have reached a point where if you ask any of the younger women, of average intelligence and education, her sentiments concerning hell's fire and heaven's glories, and the jealous on-looking God who demands to be worshipped, the chances are she will answer with a shrug that those things are no longer preached by progressive ministers. She believes in the Bible, certainly, and considers herself a good Christian, but certain portions of the divine word, certain conceptions of the past, are no longer acceptable--they have gone into the discard. And these women, holding such a view, have no hesitancy in expressing it in the presence of their children, if it so happens that they are old enough to be sitting by, listening to the conversation. In the light of all this, when we come to consider the force of religion as a restraining influence in the growing lives of the new generation, the nature and extent of the changes is fairly obvious. Let us suppose that to-day the average little children still have the beginnings of their religious training in much the same way as it has always been. And a large proportion of them undoubtedly do, because that is one of the family traditions which almost any mother would be loath to change. The children, then, are taught to say their daily prayer--they are told that God hears them and sees them--that God is all-wise and all-powerful--that He loves good people and rewards them, while people, who do wrong, anger Him and cannot escape His punishment. And this teaching is continued and developed in the Sunday school, as soon as the children are old enough to go there. The child mind absorbs all this, accepts it with the same simple faith with which it has accepted Santa Claus. If we consider the period of early childhood carefully, we find that these two beliefs, so to speak, go hand in hand--and there is much similarity between them. Most children are also taught about Santa Claus from the earliest days. He becomes very real and wonderfully important in the child imagination. He, too, has a mysterious way of knowing whether people are good or bad; he, too, loves the good ones and rewards them by bringing them beautiful presents--and if the bad ones are too bad, he is liable to punish them by giving them no presents at all. Instead of praying to him at night, you can write him letters which he has a way of getting from the chimney, so that he, too, can understand the innermost wishes of your heart. Sooner or later, however, the time must come when the existence of Santa Claus is called into doubt. The doubt usually begins with some remark made by an older boy or girl. But even if older boys and girls kept their mouths shut, the time would surely come when a growing mind would begin puzzling, reasoning, doubting, and by putting two and two together, would be forced to the conclusion that this pretty idea was only a make-believe, a myth, a humbug. A little further reflection might tell it that the myth must have been invented by some one, long ago, and was kept alive and carried on by people, generation after generation, on account of the value and influence it was found to have in bringing up children. Even after a child has become too wise to believe any longer in Santa Claus, when the first reaction of feeling fooled and cheated is over, it is perfectly willing to go on pretending for the sake of little brother and sister, and when it grows up and has children of its own, it will go on pretending for them. In the present generation, what is happening in the case of many people with regard to religious beliefs, is only one step removed. At a little later period of development, no doubt, but almost as inevitably, the moment arrives when the childhood teachings and conceptions begin to be called into question. Is there really an all-wise Lord, looking on and listening when you say your evening prayers? How many ears and eyes He must have, when so many people are doing the same thing at the same time--hundreds, thousands, millions--all talking to Him at once--in different languages and about different things! It was the same way about Santa Claus. How could he be bringing so many presents to so many people, all over the world, and delivering them personally, on the same Christmas eve? It would have taken him years to get through with all the houses in New York City alone--without thinking of London and Paris and all the other places. In the past, when such a question came to mind and found expression, the answer was comparatively simple and direct. Religion is a matter of faith, not argument; the ways of the Lord surpass the human understanding: the Bible and the church are the authority, what they teach and ordain is to be accepted and obeyed. To doubt, or question, or disbelieve is the beginning of sin, and the consequences may be terrible. When the individual was trained to the habit of obedience--when the attitude of the spirit within was one of respect and reverence for established authority and established traditions--that was one thing. If mothers and fathers and neighbors and wiser heads everywhere accepted this great mystery unqualifiedly, on faith, as the guiding light of their lives, was it not enough for their sons and daughters to follow their example and do likewise? But in the new generation, as we have seen, the twig has already been bent in a different direction. Before the time comes for the young person to be bothered with thoughts about religion, he or she has already acquired the notion that the example of mother and father does not need to be followed in many things. Some of their ideas and traditions have become antiquated and more or less ridiculous in the light of the new movement. When one begins to make enquiries about this question of the Bible, enough has been said and heard to indicate that certain of its assumptions, at least, will no longer hold water and have been discarded by the ministers, themselves. So, say many of the new generation, when you come down to it, what is there to prove that these religious beliefs may not, after all, be only a legend, something like the one about Santa Claus, evolved in the distant past, kept alive and adhered to, generation after generation, for the same sort of reason? A far greater number find it more convenient to refrain from expressing themselves. They may even go to church, occasionally, and they observe a superficial deference for the established forms of religion. But they are very little concerned in the sayings of the Bible, or the sermons of the ministers; they don't ask, or expect, any help from the Lord--nor do they live in fear of His punishment. It is not to be inferred that any large proportion of the new generation have consciously or definitely followed out the chain of reasoning which we have indicated. Most of them don't bother their heads to think very far about such a serious subject. Their attitude, on this question, as on many others, is apt to be arrived at, in a more or less subconscious way. If a growing nature has not been schooled to obedience; if it has learned to question and often disregard the ideas of its parents and elders and has formed the habit of laughing at old-fashioned traditions and conventions, there is nothing to be wondered at, if, when the time comes, it is prepared to take a more or less similar view of Bible and church. That, undoubtedly, is the present tendency. Now it is more than likely that such thoughts as these seem objectionable to many good Christians, because they consider that every well-intentioned person should strive to uphold the church and to refrain from the expression of ideas that might tend to unsettle faith. Let me assure such people that my intentions are really of the best and I am as deeply concerned as they can be about the influences which appear to be undermining the spiritual welfare of my fellow beings. But for the present, my aim is to look facts in the face, and to endeavor, patiently and simply, to understand and explain. When we have done our best in this direction, it will be time enough to hazard opinions and offer suggestions. Also, let us bear in mind that in this question of religion, as in the other questions we have touched upon, it is only a tendency which we have been considering--a fairly general tendency, to be sure, but still only a tendency. In some communities, in some families, in some sects, it may be hardly noticeable. At the moment I write these lines, the newspapers are full of a new movement undertaken by leading church societies of various denominations to have laws enacted, enforcing the observance of the Sabbath. They aim to bring about by this means, a return to the habits of church-going and Bible reading, as they were in the days of our forefathers. The very existence of such a movement is sufficient evidence of the tendency they seek to combat. Whether any law could be counted on to accomplish their purpose is another question, which need not concern us for the time being. If we go back to our main thread of enquiry and draw together the results of our observations, they seem to offer a comparatively simple diagnosis of this supposedly mysterious disease which has gotten hold of our young people. We have located the seat of the trouble and indicated the nature of the developments which have, so to speak, thrown the motives of conduct out of their accustomed balance. Obedience, discipline, respect for authority and traditions, consideration for others, fear of punishment, fear of consequences, fear of God,--these great check-weights to self-interest, self-seeking, have lost in weight and substance to such an extent that they no longer turn the scales and point the way. If our diagnosis is on the whole correct, we have finished with the first part of the problem. _N.Y. Times_, July 5, 1921.--Says lax parents make boy felons. Judge Talley analyzes youthful crime. Defiance begins at home. Judge Alfred J. Talley of the Court of General Sessions told several thousand persons gathered in the Mall in Central Park for an Independence Day celebration by the Knights of Columbus yesterday afternoon that modern American children are not brought up with the proper respect for their parents, law and order, or constituted authority, and that the fault lies with their elders. Judge Talley described the situation as a "cancer on the body politic." He drew a distinction between liberty and license and said that his experience in the criminal courts of New York had brought one great American failing very strongly home to him. "The one thing the American people lack to-day," he said, "is a proper method for bringing up their children. I see the results of this every day. The hardened criminals turn out to be youths of 19 and 20 years who first thrust themselves against law and order at 16 and 17 years, and who at 14 told their fathers that they were leaving school--and left. "Behind this hardened criminal stands the sullen drab figure of a girl who tries to show how loyal she is to the vagabond in the hands of the law. It all began with a misguided idea of liberty. The youth is the one who told his father he had had all the education he needed and promptly became a street corner type, and the girl, she who silenced her mother when bound for a dance by tossing aside criticism of the indecent dress she wore. "In our schools to-day the child stands defiant and the teacher is unable to use the only kind of discipline that would do any good. The parent at home fails to understand disciplinary methods, and so we have the picture of the father obeying the son instead of the son the father; and the mother obeys the daughter." To support his contention, Judge Talley said that statistics supplied a few weeks ago by the New York State Prison Commission showed the average age of penitentiary inmates to be 19 years. "This means that they began their criminal careers at 16 and 17, an age at which no Judge sends them to State prison. What is to be done to stem this tide of youthful depravity? There is only one way--we must encourage morality in public and in private, which means that we must bring back to our American life high standards and high ideals." II THE UP-TO-DATE PRINCIPLE In the eyes of some good folks, the behavior of the girls and boys and young married people to-day appears totally unprincipled; and the good folks throw up their hands and declare "they can't understand it." As a matter of fact, they haven't tried to understand it and most of them are very far from understanding it. There are nearly always two sides to a question--to any question--and no matter how strongly your personal views may incline you to take one side, before passing judgment, it is no more than common fairness to give the other side a chance to explain and justify its attitude. There is certainly very little chance of convincing your opponents that they are wrong, unless you have a fairly clear notion of what it is they have in mind. It is quite natural for a grandmother to regard as "unprincipled," the conduct of this new generation. It is obviously not controlled by the same principles that she has lived by. She is impressed and disturbed by the disappearance of her principles and the shocking effects. The "impossible notions" that have apparently taken their place are beyond her comprehension, but she certainly would not dignify them by the name of principles. But if these "impossible notions" are all that the new generation has to go by, and if they represent its spirit and attitude toward the problem of life, it makes little difference whether they be called principles or not, a principle of some sort is involved in them. The first thing to do, therefore, is to arrive at as clear an understanding as possible as to what this principle is and what it implies. Very little observation is needed to arrive at the conclusion that the essence of this new principle is the right of the individual nature to its fullest expression, to its most untrammelled development. A large proportion of the new generation may not be consciously aware of this doctrine, or of their adhesion to it. But it is in the air and they absorb it; it grows up within them, as an unconscious product of other influences; it is present in those about them, and the "herd instinct" causes them to adopt it. There are also a number who have given thought to the subject and are convinced of the soundness and progress of the new principle. They are prepared to defend it and proclaim it with a touch of superiority. Here and there, in magazine articles and newspapers, it is finding more or less authoritative expression and endorsement. The following quotations, for instance, are from an article which appeared recently on the editorial page of the Hearst Newspapers. They represent some views on education by a leading exponent of advanced thought. One great end of education that ought forever to be in mind is that the greatest enemy of attainment, as it is indeed of life itself, is Fear. No man or woman can ever do good work, in the world, whatever be the task, until he has stricken from his hands and head and his heart the chains of Fear. The very first lesson to teach a baby is to be unafraid. Instead of that, fear is constantly resorted to in the family and in the school-room. We bribe, we threaten, we wheedle, we bull-doze. And by every such act, we do the child irreparable harm. You ought to be much more thankful to God that your child defies you, than that he cringes before you. It should always be kept in mind that what you are after with your child is not that he should learn obedience, but that he should learn how to govern himself. The road to obedience is short, easy and nasty. All you need is a big stick. If you can be cruel and brutal enough, the little one will quickly learn to jump when you speak to him. This is a part of the new principle, forcibly and typically expressed. Is it any wonder that grandmother, brought up under the "Spare the rod, and spoil the child" and "Children should be seen, not heard" convictions, should find herself bewildered by such notions--that she should deem them "impossible." Another article of a somewhat different kind which appeared recently in the Atlantic Monthly, was written by an Englishman, a moralist of the modern school. His lesson is addressed to women and the main point of it, developed in a most interesting and reassuring way, is that they are too much afraid of conventional ideas, of public opinion. They should not permit their aspirations and inclinations to be stifled by such considerations, but have the courage to give freer rein to their inner longings. He refers, in his article, to the fact that American women are said to be far more advanced in this respect than their English cousins and approves of their example. These, of course, are only scattered specimens of the many articles which have appeared and will continue to appear in support of the new principle. And in this connection a rather curious side-light has come to my attention repeatedly, within the past few years. Among a certain class of people, especially those who pride themselves on superior intelligence and advanced thought, there has been a pronounced revival of interest and admiration for the free verse and freer morals of Walt Whitman. He has been, so to speak, re-discovered and embraced as a guide and a prophet. His creed of life, so exuberantly and defiantly expressed, was the exalted importance of his own ego. Wherever his desires led him, wherever joy for himself was to be found, there would he go, unabashed and inconsiderate. With these indications in mind, we may proceed to consider some actual examples which will serve to illustrate. A certain young woman is well-born and well-bred, occupying a prominent social position, decidedly intelligent--and good-looking, to boot. She has a husband of her own class and kind, who has always been devoted to her, and three lovely children, two boys and a girl. She has apparently given considerable thought to the problem of life, and the point-of-view she arrived at finally would seem to be a typical product of modern ideas. She believes first and foremost in the absolute right of the individual soul to recognize no master but itself--to follow out its desires and aspirations to the fullest extent. She has a feeling of scorn and contempt for conventions and conventional people. If you pay any attention to them, or their narrow, sheep-like opinions, or allow them to interfere in any way with your freedom of action, you are belittling yourself and your self-respect. You must never be afraid to obey your own impulses. They come from within you, they are a part of your nature--your self--and that is where your true duty lies. It is better that you should be true to yourself, even at the expense of others, than that you should be afraid and cowardly. The very fact that a desire, or an impulse, makes itself felt within you is the main point. It is not really the things you _do_ that matter so much, as your _wish_ to do them. If you wish to do a thing, and hold back out of cowardice, or fear of the consequences, that doesn't make you any better--only weaker and worse. You can't deny that the wish was there--without lying to yourself--so what's the use? It is finer and braver to go on with it and attain at least the satisfaction of a wish fulfilled. "But," some one objects, "how about your obligations to others? Suppose by doing the thing you wish, you will harm them?" This little lady's answer to such an objection is usually accompanied by a shrug and a mildly condescending expression. "If you are going to keep bothering your head about the effect of your actions on other people, might as well give up at the start and be a nice little sheep. The game isn't worth the candle. "Besides, there's more humbug in that than any of the other bromides, weak natures prate about. Most people in this world have got to look out for themselves. You can't hope to be anything, or do anything worth while without occasionally treading on some one's toes. It has always been that way and if you're honest with yourself, you may as well recognize the fact and accept it philosophically. "In most cases the harm that you do is much less than you imagine. That usually takes care of itself, somehow." If people bore her, she doesn't believe in pretending that they interest her. She will not invite them to her house, or accept their invitations. If she has agreed to go somewhere, where she expects to amuse herself and then, at the last moment, no longer feels in the mood for it, she calls it off. Or if in the meantime, something else turns up that she would prefer to do, she does not hesitate to switch to the thing she prefers. If people don't like that, it is their affair. She has no intention of cramping her freedom, denying her desires, on their account. What she does means more to her than it does to anybody else. There is no good reason for her to pretend to be any different from what she is. Moreover, in this particular case, there can be very little doubt, among those who know her, that she practices what she preaches. This, too, is something which occurs more frequently in the new generation than it did in the past. There is no great trouble in accommodating practice to theory--or rather the theory accommodates itself very readily to the kind of conduct which persons of this kind are ready to practice. For instance, the lady in question wanted to visit Chinatown in one of the large cities and arranged with a professional guide to be taken there at night, alone with a girl friend. Among other things, they saw a Chinaman smoking opium and this gave rise to a desire on her part to experience the sensation for herself. The guide was prevailed upon, for a consideration, to procure her an outfit and a supply of opium; and that very night in her room she took a try at an opium dream. Why not? At another time, at a cabaret party, she was introduced to a somewhat notorious young man of the Bohemian world. He was obviously dissolute, but talented and interesting. She danced with him, gave him encouragement, invited him to her home and was not afraid to be seen going about with him frequently on terms of intimacy. Among other things, he was addicted to the cocaine habit--he sniffed the powder from the back of his hand--and in due time he talked to her about it. He presented her with a bottle of the drug and after that, she always had a supply in reserve which she used when the impulse came. Why not? If her husband had any objection to things that she did, he soon learned to keep them to himself. She could not and would not tolerate any interference with the rights of an individual soul. She must have the same freedom that she conceded to him. The kind of thing he chose to do, apart from her, was a matter for him to decide in accordance with his nature. The same rule must apply to her. The days of slavery had passed. Marriage was an arrangement between equals. In due course of time, the husband had to leave her and the children for war service. While he was away, she fell in with another talented and dissipated Bohemian--a romantic-looking musician very much in the public eye. Very quickly their infatuation for each other was a matter of open comment on the part of the veriest on-looker. As he had the same idea that she had about the rights of the individual, and the same contempt for conventions and conventional people, there was no pretense of concealment, no need of observing the proprieties. When the husband returned from overseas, she informed him, with the utmost candor of what had taken place. There was no shame and no remorse. Why should there be? A simple statement of fact--the forces of human nature in operation. She had found some one who appealed to her impulses more strongly than he. That was a truth which had to be accepted. The simplest way was to allow her to get a divorce. But what of the children? A very simple answer. Whether they went with their father or stayed with their mother--or were taken by the grandparents--anything was really better for children than being brought up in an atmosphere where all was pretense and whence love had flown. Of course she loved her children and always would, but if they grew up to be the right sort, they would understand her motives and admire her the more for being true to herself. This case embodies the practical working of the new principle, carried to an extreme. Here is another example of a different order: Two pretty girls of eighteen or twenty were talking together in the seat in front of me, in a trolley car. They turned out to be telephone operators at central switchboards. They were talking over their plans, which contemplated a visit to the movies with two young men--a supper and dance afterwards. The young men were still to be heard from and as the girls were going to separate places of employment the question was how to let each other know about final arrangements. For reasons best known to themselves, it wouldn't be wise to attempt that over the 'phone--they had better meet somewhere. Whereupon one of the girls suggested a place convenient to them both, where they could slip out and meet each other--at four o'clock. She would "plug in" all the terminals on her switchboard, so that all the lines in that central would be reported "busy" when people called up, and the other girl could do the same. Then they could talk things over quietly. "Nothing to be afraid of." And so they agreed. Why not? Here is another symptom: A married woman of my acquaintance is decidedly old-fashioned in her respect for conventions and moral standards. She has a sweet and rather shy daughter, who has been brought up closely under the mother's wing, and has never lost the habit of asking and telling her mother everything. She is seventeen. One summer evening, recently, the daughter was called up on the 'phone by one of her girl friends and asked to make one of the party, who were arranging an impromptu dance at a private house. The girl friend and her brother would stop for her in their car and bring her home afterwards. When the invitation was referred to mother, after a moment of hesitation and worry about the propriety of the proceeding, she gave her consent. Shortly after, the friend and her brother stopped at the house and took the daughter with them. When she got back home, after midnight, she went to her mother's room and told her, at her bed-side, what had happened. After they got to the house where the dance was to be and the others had all gathered there, it was decided for some reason to adjourn to another house. To get to this other house, the daughter was put into an automobile with a girl and two young men. She sat in front, beside the young man who was driving. She knew him only slightly, had danced with him a few times and thought him rather nice. On the way, after chatting and joking, this young man stopped the car, then suddenly kissed her and took her in his arms. She didn't know what to do. When she looked around, she found that the same thing was going on in the back seat between the other boy and girl. The young man beside her wouldn't listen to her objections. They seemed to take it for granted. If you liked each other, why shouldn't you? He said he liked her. The occurrence is fairly typical of up-to-date standards--except in one particular. Most girls refrain from mentioning it to mother. Here is another symptom, of slightly different complexion which applies to married life and suggests the extent to which the new principle is bearing fruit, in society circles. It was brought to my notice, last summer, that in one colony on Long Island where I happened to be, there were fourteen different houses where the wife had deserted the family and the husband was keeping house alone with the children. This was among members of the fashionable set. In each of these cases, of course, the wife had come across some man who, for the time being at least, appealed to her more than her husband and a divorce had been obtained in some convenient way, or was in the process of obtaining. It usually happens when a discussion takes place concerning the immorality of the present day, that some member of the party will advance the opinion in a more or less authoritative way that the tendency in question is confined almost entirely to the so-called upper crust of society and is consequently not entitled to the significance which is being attributed to it. The great mass of the people, in their simple homes and simple communities, are not in the least contaminated or disturbed by it. They are just as moral and clean-minded as they ever were, probably more so. Among the rich and idle upper classes, there has always been a lot of dissipation and immorality in all countries, at all times. If America is getting a little more than usual of it, at present, that is nothing to get excited about. In the face of such sentiments, cheerily and forcibly expressed, the average gossip and fault-finder is usually willing to acquiesce with a shrug. And so the discussion ends with a feeling that an attempt has been made to exaggerate the importance of a restricted and unrepresentative class. As a matter of fact, this kind of talk would appear to be founded on neither accurate information nor sound reasoning. As regards the lower and middle classes--including those in small communities--especially those in small communities--it has been called to my attention repeatedly by those in a position to know that the change in standards, the so-called demoralization, has been quite as extreme as among the upper crust. And this view is in accord with my own notion. Two important agents of the new movement are the automobile and the moving picture show. The mechanic's daughter, the store-keeper's daughter, the farmer's daughter like to go to the movies. It may be at first the mother, or father, took care to find out who the daughter was going with and how. A girl friend and her brother. How are they going? In the friend's automobile. Another time the father runs the daughter over to the friend's house in the Ford car. Another time the daughter runs herself over to the friend's house in the Ford car. It is only a short way. Or again, it is the friend's brother who stops for her, on his way to get the sister. After a while, this going to the movies has become such a frequent occurrence, that it is accepted as a matter of course, without bother or comment. If perchance the daughter comes home, some night, later than usual and the mother feels uneasy, the explanation is very simple. Instead of going to the nearby theatre, the daughter and her friend went over to a neighboring town where a more interesting picture was showing. In the end the daughter goes off about when she pleases and comes back in the same way. Very often the stories she sees on the screen are largely seasoned with material that stirs the imagination and emotions in a hectic sexual way. If the girl and a young man get into a Ford car together to go home by moonlight, is it to be wondered at that the car comes to a stop on the lonely road and they forget old-fashioned proprieties? The extent to which this sort of thing has been going on in many of the small town communities, according to the information I have received, is far too serious to be glossed over with easy optimism. In one relatively small and primitive district I happened to know of, more than one-half of the families with marriageable daughters have within the last three years had to bear the shame of illegitimate off-spring. In the cities and larger towns, the same tendency appears to be in full swing among the shop-girls, stenographers, and daughters in the humbler walks of life. III REASON AND EXPERIENCE In any case, from the examples and indications which we have cited and countless others of a similar kind which come within the experience of almost every one, nowadays, there can be little room for doubt that the new principle of conduct is very much in evidence throughout the length and breadth of our land. Consciously or unconsciously, it is affecting the character and determining the point-of-view of vast numbers in the new generation. If you attempt to reason with them and they are willing and intelligent enough to express themselves frankly, their answer and justification for the way they are going sums up about as follows: "Why shouldn't I think of myself and do what I like and want, as often as I get the chance? "As long as I steer clear of the law and avoid breaking my neck, what other consequences are there that I need to keep worrying about? "Why shouldn't I be a pleasure-seeker and a pleasure-lover? Why shouldn't I follow my inclinations and do what I like, whenever and wherever I get the chance?" Why not? If you expect them to act contrary to their inclinations, to deny themselves the pleasures that they want, and to do things they do not feel like doing, there ought to be a good and sufficient reason. It ought to be so clear and convincing that it can be accepted with a whole heart and a settled resolve to abide by it. The young people of to-day are made of exactly the same stuff as the young people of any other day. They have the same sort of instincts and the same underlying aspiration to get the most and the best out of life. Owing to altered conditions, for reasons which we have outlined, they are being left to go about it very largely in their own way, with less coercion from without, than young people have probably ever known before in the history of civilization. How far will you get by telling them that the way they are going is immoral and sinful? They can answer by saying "If I choose to be immoral and satisfy myself, why shouldn't I? I'm not afraid of being sinful, or any of those old-fashioned scare-crows." How far will you get by advising that the rod be taken out again and that they be beaten into submission to forms of authority which they no longer believe in or respect? This might result in teaching them duplicity and cunning and resentment, but probably nothing more beneficial to their spiritual health. It seems to me more sensible to be patient with them and talk matters over with them and try to answer their question in exactly the same spirit in which it is asked. The question is "Why shouldn't I go ahead and gratify my inclinations in any way that suits myself." There are many reasons, some of which ought not to be very difficult for any one to understand. Broadly speaking, they are of three different kinds--First, experience; second, affection; third, faith. Let us examine them in order, in a simple, leisurely way, and try to make clear the essence of each. What does the question of experience lead to and imply? First, there is one's own experience; then there is the experience of other people. Our own experience teaches us very quickly that we often have impulses which it would be a mistake to obey. If you feel like pulling a strange dog's tail and the dog turns on you and bites your hand and the wound has to be cauterized, and you have to go through a lot of pain and trouble and fear of hydrophobia, one lesson will probably be enough for you. Suppose you are overheated and feel like sitting in a draft and letting the cool air blow on you, and this is followed by a heavy cold which lays you up for a week or two? Or suppose you are on top of a tall building and feel a strong impulse to jump out and go sailing through the air? Many people have this impulse, but they have previously had enough experience to know what happens to people who fall from high places. The number of such examples might be multiplied indefinitely, but enough has been suggested to indicate the principle. It is quite obvious and childishly simple--the lessons taught to each and every one of us by our own experience. Now let us follow this path a step further. It is quite possible for you to have impulses and inclinations to do things which might cause you irreparable harm. The consequences of these things are not something that you can remember and foresee, because in your own experience they have not occurred before. If you stick to your idea of obeying no one but yourself and of being unafraid to do what you want, the lesson in store for you may come too late. Certain impulses of yours, if followed, may cause death. Others may cause permanent injury to yourself, or irreparable harm to others. A little boy seeing an automobile coming along the road sometimes has an impulse to run across the road in front of the automobile, for the fun and excitement of it. If you are a boy and feel like it, why shouldn't you? You have never tripped and fallen in front of an automobile--you have never misjudged the speed of it and been struck and killed that way. You have never seen any other boy killed that way. There is nothing in your own experience to deter you. If the automobile happens to hit you, you will have acquired experience that might be useful to you, but the cost is too great. If you are not dead, you may be crippled for life. If you are convalescing from typhoid fever, you are likely to have a ravenous appetite. You feel very well and you derive considerable pleasure from the milk-toast and soft-boiled eggs you have been getting, but they do not begin to satisfy you. Every instinct within you calls for a big piece of juicy beef-steak and fried potatoes. There is no reason in your experience why you should not gratify your desire--you may have been told by the doctor that it isn't time for that yet and you must be content with what is ordered for you. But if you believe in doing what you feel like and the doctor is out of the way, why not have your beef-steak? I happen to know of two separate cases where this occurred--friends of mine. The doctor in each case apparently took too much for granted and failed to impress upon their minds forcibly enough the need of obeying his orders rather than their own inclinations. The experience came too late--because it brought death with it. Or suppose you are in some out-of-the-way place and are hot and tired and very thirsty and the only water available comes from a supply which is not fit to drink? You may have been told this by some one who knows more about it than you do, but if you believe in ignoring other people's opinions and thinking only of yourself--and the water is cool and clear and you feel like drinking it, why shouldn't you? Suppose it turns out that clear, cool water may be polluted with cholera, or yellow fever, or other deadly germs? You may never recover from the effects of it. These are crude, haphazard illustrations of a principle which is constantly at work in human lives in a great variety of ways. The obvious meaning of it is that your experience, or your own lack of experience, in many questions and emergencies may not be enough for you to go by, or depend upon. Most young people have had very little experience of many things that are liable to have a vital bearing on their own lives, their own selves, their own hope of happiness. As a matter of fact it must be evident to any one who will reflect a moment, that no one individual, however long he may have lived, or however full and varied his life may have been, can possibly have had in his own personal experience more than a small fraction of the things that may occur and do keep occurring in the world of humanity. If he has led a clean, healthy, vigorous life, he cannot have experienced the feelings and problems of a drunkard and dope-fiend slowly submerging in dissipation and vice. If he married young and has known the joy of entire devotion to a loyal and loving helpmate, he cannot have had the experience of a profligate who has been divorced four times and is about to take another chance with a dashing grass-widow. Hundreds and thousands of situations that other human beings are called upon to face, he cannot have gone through on his own account. But if we are able to find out and bear in mind the experience of other people, we can make use of it, as a warning and a guide, in much the same way as if it had happened to ourselves. If I have seen a boy try to run across the road in front of an automobile and stumble and get killed, it is not necessary for me to get killed in order to appreciate the danger of the experiment. You may never have seen this happen, but if I have and I tell you about it, you can use the information you get from me and still save yourself the necessity of risking your neck. This principle is not at all difficult to understand. It has always been applied, to greater or less extent, in the lives of all human beings, everywhere. It is no more than common sense to profit by the experiences of others, and try to avoid their mistakes. It seems strange that such a universal principle should be overlooked by the up-to-date minds of the new generation. Yet the least little glimmer of light from it would in itself seem to be a sufficient answer to their question. "Why shouldn't I go ahead and gratify all my impulses?" Because although your own limited experience may be insufficient to warn you and guide you, the experience of other people has shown repeatedly that such and such impulses usually lead to such and such consequences which would be very harmful to you. In the long run the results of others' experience are a better guide to follow than your selfish impulses. You wish to be intelligent and reasonable, don't you? Well, if you lack experience and understanding, it is neither intelligent nor reasonable to imagine that you are the best judge of the consequences. Of course, the examples we have cited so far--the strange dog that bites, the boy and the automobile, typhoid fever and polluted water--are very elementary. Also the questions they involve--the harmful consequences of certain impulses--are direct and immediate and entirely material. They serve well enough to answer a question and illustrate a principle and that is all they were intended for. The principle is worth bearing in mind, because its application extends to all sorts of complicated questions of conduct. One reason that the young people of to-day are so confused in their moral ideas is just because they have been allowed to overlook this simple, fundamental principle. It frequently happens that the most important consequences of the thing you do, or fail to do, are not direct and immediate but fairly remote and obscure. An individual without much experience or knowledge of the world may easily neglect to consider them. For instance, I have known several cases where young men of good family forged their fathers' names. They were up-to-date young men, of course. But even so, how could they come to do such a thing? By gratifying their inclinations, in the first place, in accordance with the up-to-date idea. One natural consequence of this is that, in order to gratify a new inclination, or as a result of having gratified the last one, it becomes necessary to have more money. That is one of the annoyances of civilization, which even the most advanced of the new generation haven't yet been able to change. Many of their pet impulses cannot be indulged without money. It is an old-fashioned convention and very irksome, but for the time being, at least, it has to be made the best of. The young men in question eventually found themselves faced with this problem. They had to have money. How could they get it? Not by asking their mother, or father, for it. That source of supply had been used up to the last drop, with the help of all sorts of pretexts, subterfuges and broken promises. There was no longer any available friend or relative to borrow from. That resource had also been used up. They had no jewelry left to pawn--that had been used up, too. So finally, for the want of a better way, they arrived at this scheme of signing their fathers' names to checks. After all, looking at it from their point-of-view, and bearing in mind the freedom of the individual, why shouldn't they? It would do no great harm to their fathers--no real harm at all. They had plenty of money in the bank. But it would constitute forgery--a serious offense, against the law. "What of that? So is speeding an automobile against the law. Who's afraid of breaking the law--if you have the nerve?" Is there no such thing as right and wrong? Don't you know in your heart that this would be wrong--very wrong? "I've been fed up with that kind of talk all my life. What other people think about such things is their affair. I believe in deciding for myself and doing as I like. "The main thing I've got to consider is my chance of getting away with it and what is liable to happen if I don't. I am sure I can make a good enough imitation of my father's signature to get the check cashed at one of the stores the family deals with. If it goes to the bank along with other checks and the amount is not large, there is small chance of any attention being paid to it. If it once gets into father's account at the bank, as likely as not it will never be discovered. And even if it should be, at some future date, no father would bring a charge against his own son. So the worst that can happen is another one of those family scenes which I have gone through before. "The most important thing of all is that I need the money--I've got to have it--and this is the least objectionable way I can think of to get it." This is presumably the process of reasoning the young men in question went through. In each case the immediate consequence of the act was apparently harmless and quite satisfactory to them. They got the money they wanted, the checks were taken in at the bank, time passed and no one knew the difference. The indirect and remote consequences of this kind of conduct, however, came eventually. They nearly always do. The forgeries in each case were repeated--why shouldn't they be? And the day finally arrived when they were brought to light. In each of the cases the suffering and heart-break of the mothers and fathers was pitiful and beyond recovery in this world. That was one of the indirect consequences. One of the young men, whom I had known as a bright, attractive collegian, was sent to prison, eventually, in spite of all his family could do. Another died in an institution for incurables. All forfeited their birthright of home, family, decent associations and ended up in degradation and wreckage. That was one of the remote consequences. Let us take a more usual example, much less extreme--the young man who steps on the throttle of his automobile because he feels like going fast. As far as his own experience is concerned, where is the reason for him to deny his impulse? If a traffic cop happens to see him, he might get "pinched" and fined. That's about the only thing worth considering. But if he keeps his eyes open and his companions in the back seat watch out behind, there's not much chance of that. And after all, suppose he does happen to "get pinched," what of it? There are plenty of others. His father will have to pay a fine and there will be a little scolding and unpleasantness in the family, at the worst. As for the danger, who's afraid of that? It only makes it more exciting and more fun. The result is logical enough, if you start with the premise that each individual is free to follow his inclinations and decide for himself. Very few young men have sufficient experience of their own, or sufficient reflection and wisdom, to give due weight to the indirect and remote consequences which may come from such conduct. Let us pause and imagine a few of them. In the first place, an automobile skimming along the road at the rate of sixty or seventy miles an hour has in it elements of danger which are entitled to some consideration. The danger is not only for those who are in the car, but also for others who may wish to use the same road. An accumulated mass of experience has amply demonstrated this. That is the underlying reason for the speed laws--not that young men may be "pinched" by "traffic cops" and fathers be made to pay fines. If the young man driving the car were the only one concerned in the danger, it might be different. He could claim the right to risk his own neck when he felt like it, and it might be conceded to him. But such is not the case--such is never the case--other people cannot help being affected by his conduct. His companions in the car, their families, his own family, other people on the road and all their families, may be very much concerned in a possible accident caused by his recklessness. If he kills a little girl, or a boy on a bicycle, or a lady coming out of a cross-road, or if the damage is merely the injury of a few people and the wrecking of a car, there are sure to be unpleasant consequences for the young man himself. So much for the question of accident or danger of accident, but there is another question of another sort involved. Suppose the young man has promised his mother and father that he would not drive fast--never above thirty miles an hour--suppose it was on this distinct understanding that their anxiety was allayed and he was trusted to take the car by himself wherever he liked? Does it make any difference to him whether he breaks a promise--to his mother and father? He can say to himself that it is only a natural fussiness on their part, and as they are not in the car, they won't know anything about it. But sooner or later they do know about it; such things nearly always have a way of coming to light. It is an old saying which has been very generally confirmed that, in the long run, "the truth will out." One of the girls in the car tells somebody how fast they went and that somebody refers to it before others until it gets to the boy's mother and father. What harm to the boy? A little scolding, perhaps, and a repetition of the warning and the promise? That's only the superficial consequence. There is a deeper and more remote one. The parents' confidence in their boy receives a shock. The boy can't always be trusted to keep his word. Also he is inclined to be reckless and irresponsible. The parents have always idolized the boy; the father has never ceased looking forward to the day when he could turn over to his son a big share of his responsibilities and see him carry on the name and prestige of the family. It is the most natural and fondest hope that fathers have. This hope begins to be undermined when the boy does something which shows that he cannot be trusted. If he will break his word and take a reckless chance, merely for the sake of gratifying a trivial inclination, what is to keep him from doing so, on other occasions for the same reason? The same spirit and the same point-of-view are certain to find repeated opportunities for the same sort of irresponsible conduct. When, in the course of time, the realization of this finally comes home to the mother and father, the consequences, although remote, are apt to be extremely serious for all concerned--including the boy. His character is irresponsible and untrustworthy. His word, or promise, is of no account--he cannot be counted on to keep it. That has been proved by his conduct--unmistakably. What the harm is to an individual of developing a character of this kind--or a lack of character--is a big and fairly complicated subject which is apparently not much considered by up-to-date young people, who are satisfied to judge things from the point-of-view of selfishness and personal experience. It may be left for discussion later on. The harm to mother and father and members of the family is also a matter which they incline to imagine is no concern of theirs. According to the new principle, the main consideration is one's own ego and its right to freedom. This question, too, may be left for later discussion. But there still remains a harm and a loss of a practical, material kind, which in due course is pretty sure to come to the young man, himself. As it has a direct bearing on his pleasures and inclinations, even the most selfish individual should find it worth considering. If you do things that are reckless and irresponsible, if you break your word and fail to keep your promise, the people who cease to trust you, those who have most to do with you, will treat you accordingly. Those who have it in their power to contribute largely to your enjoyment, and to your opportunities, will refrain from doing so. Invitations, friendships, relationships of various kinds that might have been at your disposal, will be withheld from you. To get the most out of life, even from an entirely material and selfish point-of-view, you need a lot of help from other people. First and foremost you need it from your own family, in countless ways. Suppose your own father, as a result of your irresponsibility, refuses to let you have an automobile to break the speed laws with? Suppose he is forced by experience to realize that you can't be trusted with money, any more than you can be trusted with an automobile? This realization is sure to be a source of great disappointment and sorrow to him, but he has to accept it. He must abandon his hope of turning over his responsibilities to you. If money is placed at your disposal, you may be expected to gamble with it on the stock exchange, or the race-track, or to squander it in gratifications of an unworthy and demoralizing kind. A young man who thinks only of gratifying his inclinations, who is not afraid to be reckless and inconsiderate of others, and who fails to keep his word, is hardly a fit person to be placed in control of money. It frequently happens that a father feels it a duty, when he makes his will, to tie up the family inheritance in such a way that it will be beyond the reach of an untrustworthy son. So that the remote and indirect consequences of this kind of conduct may be more harmful to a young man than his lack of experience and understanding makes him aware of, at the time being. How about the young woman of superior intellect and breeding, who had an inclination to smoke opium, on one occasion, and to sniff cocaine, on another? Suppose she had been better informed on the subject than she apparently was. Suppose she happened to have a friend, who had been connected with one of the state institutions for drug addicts, and this friend had told her about the inmates--how hopeless and pitiful their degradation was--how abject their slavery to the drug sensation for which they continually yearned. No way has been found to cure them, because they have no will to be cured. And the beginnings of the habit are so often accidental and trivial--curiosity, or bravado, or carelessness on the part of a practitioner. A Harvard college student, of good family, for instance, was on a spree in Boston, with some friends--they went to an opium joint and thought it would be fun to try the sensation. This particular boy remained in the den twenty-four hours, under the influence. That was the beginning--and the end. He went there again--he got himself a lay-out--and is now a hopeless wreck in the state institution, twenty-one years old. Another is a society woman who was given a dose of heroin and that one dose proved sufficient for her undoing. The craving for it came and she wanted more and more. Or suppose some one had told her about a very remarkable case which came to my attention, a number of years ago. Four young physicians were associates on the staff of one of our leading medical institutions. A considerable part of their time was devoted to research work and among other things they started experimenting with the effects of cocaine, which was a comparatively recent discovery. They were brilliant young men of unusual character and promise, but all four succumbed to the cocaine habit. The last of them died in pitiful degradation, within five years of their first experiment. Experience has shown that just as there are certain poisons which the bodily functions are unable to resist, so there are certain drugs which have the effect of sapping the will and distorting the judgment. The craving which they leave in their wake may very easily become so compelling that human nature cannot resist it. So that if any society woman has sufficient understanding of the subject, there is plenty of reason why she should dismiss an inclination to try opium-smoking, or cocaine sniffing. The impulse is mere whim, silly curiosity--the consequences may be degrading, terrible. But if she believes in paying no heed to the conventional ideas of other people, and is lacking in experience and knowledge of her own, she may be very well pleased with herself for her daring. "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread"--that is an old saying which suggests that ignorant people, defying the counsels of experience, were known to exist before now--only in the past they were called "fools," whereas to-day they prefer to be considered "exponents of advanced thought," with a superior point-of-view, inaugurating a new era of "emancipation." It is not my purpose here to go on multiplying examples. I merely wished to indicate as simply and clearly as possible an underlying, fundamental principle. It is at work in countless ways, in everybody's life, nearly all the time. Personal impulses and inclinations may be very short-sighted, very unlovely, very unworthy. Greed, murder, arson, lust, theft, lying, betrayal--are only a few samples of the variety of impulses which may come and do come frequently to various individuals upon occasion. Our own limited experience and a little reason may be a sufficient guide in many cases. They teach us to overrule certain inclinations, whose consequences we understand and which we deem contrary to our interests. In many other cases, the consequences may be just as contrary to our interests, though they lie beyond our own experience and present understanding. For that reason people have been taught throughout the centuries to accept and be guided by the accumulated experience and wisdom of those who have gone before. This accumulated experience has been preserved and made available to each new generation, in many ways--traditions, conventions, customs, familiar quotations, standard books, the schools and the Bible. Most of all, it has been the special care and function of parents to instill it into their children. For the first ten or fifteen years of life, children are constantly being told what to do and what not to do, in all sorts of contingencies. And what they are told is the result of accumulated experience in crystallized practical form. In the days of obedience, discipline and fear of punishment, children accepted and respected this guidance, as authoritative. They formed the habit of doing not what they felt like, but what was considered right and best for them. Very often the true reasons, the complicated motives and remote consequences, involved in a question of conduct were not comprehended by the young people, and only vaguely sensed by their parents. They were traditional ideas, generally approved by right-minded people and passed along. Their origin, in nearly all cases, was the accumulated experience and wisdom of people who did comprehend. So it happens that a young woman, or a young man, of the new school, without respect for old-fashioned teachings, and with insufficient experience, or knowledge of their own, can fall into the error of imagining that their selfish interests are best served by gratifying each passing inclination. Their first shallow mistake, as I have tried to show, is in overlooking the lessons of others' experience. This whole point-of-view, of course, is absolutely selfish and for the time being, I have been content to meet them on their own ground and answer them in terms of absolute selfishness. Even on the assumption that a human being is a kind of animal, which feels no need of consideration for others' welfare, and is devoid of any higher aspirations than a full measure of selfish enjoyment--even then, purely as a question of intelligence, a matter of policy, there are excellent reasons why various impulses and inclinations should be resisted and denied. The nature of these reasons I have attempted to suggest and make clear by some haphazard examples and as previously noted, the basis of them all is Experience. IV AFFECTION There remain two other sets of reasons why our selfish inclinations should often be denied--affection and faith. They are of a higher and finer order. We will take them one at a time. The conscious life of a human being is by no means limited to the perception of sensations and the exercise of reason. These are important functions, but they are not all. A human being is also provided with a heart, which is capable of feeling sympathy for other human beings--for all living things. This sympathetic feeling may cover a wide range--pity, commiseration, friendship, admiration, devotion, adoration. It is not the nature of mankind to live an isolated existence, in loneliness. Boys and girls, men and women, from the beginning of life to the end, yearn for the companionship of others with whom they can share their thoughts and feelings, their pleasures and their pains. Through association with others come affectionate feelings for certain ones. We attach ourselves to them with bonds of sympathy, understanding, love. The feeling of affection is such a normal and essential part of human life that it seeks to find expression at every opportunity. A warm-hearted child will lavish it on a kitten, or a rag doll; or will show it for a mongrel dog. If the kitten, or the dog is hurt, or sick, or even hungry, the girl or boy will be distressed by its trouble and want to help it. This is a primitive form of the feeling; carried to its full development in the heart of a sensitive, noble nature it becomes one of the most beautiful and vital of human attributes. As we share our thoughts and feelings with another and are allowed to share his in return, our centre of interest expands, as it were, and the essence of life within us enriches itself by this sympathetic mingling with the essence of the other. His thoughts, his feelings, his welfare are no longer a matter of indifference to us. As our sympathy and attachment grow, we become more and more concerned in this other's interests; they become a part of our existence, in a strange and lovely way, just as real and just as dear to us as if they were our own. Any pleasure, or good fortune, becomes doubly grateful, if we may share it with him; no pleasure is worth considering, if in order to obtain it, we would be obliged to cause him a deprivation. We cannot forget his welfare, or his happiness, we do not wish to forget his welfare or his happiness, because through our sympathy and affection, the essence of another life has become inexpressively near and dear to us. To a greater or less degree, this capacity for affection is inherent in human kind, from the lowest to the highest. It is a most precious human quality and it opens the gates of life to a sort of satisfaction that is infinitely bigger and finer and more lasting than anything that can be obtained from the mere gratification of selfish and material impulses. Now, while it is true that practically everybody is aware of this feeling and has a need for affection and sympathy, not all people by any means have big enough hearts, or fine enough natures, to respond to the need very deeply. Cold, superficial, self-centered people may go through life giving a very small modicum of sympathy or affection to anybody and receiving very little in return. Many a man is incapable and unworthy of being a real true friend to anybody. He may have brains and breeding and plenty of animal desires, but in his heart there is no understanding of what it means to be devoted to a welfare not his own. The same is true no doubt of a great many women, those whose characters are too fickle and unstable to permit of any deep and lasting attachment. Fortunately, even in the case of such men and women, if they marry and have children, some of the joy and meaning of this heart-life is still vouchsafed them. They feel it for their sons and daughters. If they have no children and are unmarried, there are mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters to keep alive some measure of sympathy and endearment. A human being who is totally bereft of such attachments, without any feeling that comes from the heart for any one, is such a rare exception that he need not be considered. Such lives, if they do exist, would appear to normal beings as very pitiful. As a usual thing, for most of us, the affections are constantly in operation. Certain people who are near and dear to us are never really out of our lives at all. Consciously or subconsciously, we carry them with us wherever we go, tucked away in our hearts, ready to rise up at the slightest provocation and take a vital part in our innermost deliberations. A little boy or girl of the right sort, with the right kind of loving parents, grows up naturally with this feeling for them. In all sorts of new experiences and questions of conduct, the thought comes spontaneously: "What will mother think about this?" "She'll be terribly surprised when I tell her that." "Father will be pleased and proud when he knows what I've done." "I don't think she'd approve of that." "He'll laugh at me, when he hears this." And so forth and so on, countless times, in countless connections. Mothers and fathers carry around a similar feeling with regard to their children. Things that they see, things that they hear, things that they read, plans and projects of all kinds, are spontaneously colored by the consideration of their effect on the son or daughter--surprise, pleasure, disappointment, good or ill. The same thing takes place to a remarkable extent between a man and a woman who love each other deeply. Nothing of importance can happen to one, without an immediate reflection of the effect and bearing it will have on the other. A frequent result of this is that, in order to give pleasure to the other, one will act contrary to his own selfish inclination. And the anticipation of this pleasure to be given to the other can be strong enough to transform this denial and deprivation of self into a sweeter and finer form of satisfaction. This same order of feeling, based on sympathy and affection, springing from the heart, extends and ramifies and attaches itself in a great variety of ways, in the life of a human being, as we have already suggested. While instances of complete devotion of one nature to another are comparatively rare, in any walk of life, and while most individuals are lacking in the bigness of heart and depth of feeling to be capable of it, under any circumstances, the importance of affection comes home to nearly everybody, to greater or less extent, and is treasured up as one of the essentials of life. As a result of this human sympathy and affection, it would seem only natural and obvious that there should come to everyone a realization of the fact that in many of the things we do, for our own good or ill, other people besides ourselves can't help being concerned. We may, by thinking only of our own inclinations and seeking to gain our selfish ends, be doing great harm and injustice to them. If other people are affected by what we do, and they have feelings of the same sort as ours, are not they, too, entitled to some consideration? This idea seems so simple and evident that any thinking person might be expected to admit it and understand it. Yet, as we have seen repeatedly in discussing the attitude of the new generation, it is one of the questions about which there prevails the greatest misconception and confusion of mind. Up-to-date young people, absorbed in the habit of doing what they like and deciding for themselves, very easily fall into the way of overlooking this consideration almost entirely. They fail to grasp the importance of the part that sympathy and affection have been assigned to play in their own natures; and at the same time they lose sight of the feelings and interests of others who must be affected by the consequences of their acts. Lack of consideration for others has come to be spoken of currently as one of the marked characteristics of this new generation. For this reason, if for no other, it may be just as well to linger on the subject and make explanations doubly plain, rather than leave any possible ground for a continuation of the confusion and misunderstanding. Suppose you were walking along a country road and you came upon a nice little boy, named Harry, one of your neighbor's sons, and Harry was sitting hunched up on a stump, sniffling and sobbing, with tears streaming down his cheeks. Upon enquiring the cause of his trouble, you learn that a bigger boy, Jake, had taken away Harry's apple. Strictly speaking, the apple didn't belong to either of them, but Harry had spied it on the tree and after a great deal of determined effort had managed to climb out on the branch and shake it down. Then Jake came along and took it. Now, to see a little fellow sobbing with disappointment, deprived of something his heart was set on and which he had worked hard to get, is enough to arouse a feeling of sympathy in any normal and kindly person. You feel sorry for Harry and you'd like to do something for him. Suppose you happen to look along the road, just then, and you spy Jake seated on a fence rail with an air of contentment, proceeding to eat the apple--what would you feel like doing and saying to him? Suppose you controlled yourself and asked him quietly why he took that apple away from Harry, and he replied, with a defiant grin "Because I wanted it. I like apples, and this is a fine big one!" If you continue to talk quietly to Jake, and show him Harry sobbing on the stump, and make him realize the situation, as like as not it will end up by Jake's saying: "All right--if he feels as bad as that, let him have it. I didn't know he was that kind of a cry baby." And he will pass up his own inclination, rather than cause that much harm to another. That is a very primitive example which illustrates the principle in its simplest form. In the first place you are moved by sympathy and consideration for another, when you feel sorry for Harry and want to help him, and so is Jake when he is willing to forego his own desire for Harry's sake--although he lacked consideration in the first place, in taking something on which another's heart was set. Here is another example: A boy, George, is an only son and very dear to his parents, who have watched over him always with loving care. During the summer vacation, George has been invited to make a week's visit at the home of a school-mate which is in another state. The trip is a longer and more complicated one than George has ever undertaken by himself, and his mother cannot help feeling apprehensive and anxious at the thought of possible accidents and emergencies which may occur. It involves a night run on a steamboat, a railroad journey and a long automobile ride through mountainous country. The mother, not wishing to stand in the way of her boy's pleasure, gives a reluctant consent. She makes no attempt to disguise the anxiety she will feel while he is on the way, and impresses on his mind the importance of sending her a telegram, as soon as he has arrived safely at his destination. George laughs at her fears, boy-fashion, and promises to do as she wishes. No sooner has he started on his way, than the mother's heart enters upon a period of increasing perturbation. Suppose something should happen to the steamer--that it should break down, or catch fire, or run on a reef--or that there should be a railroad accident--or that George should lose his ticket, or be robbed of his money and find himself in some far-away spot, not knowing what to do with no one to go to? Then that long motor ride through deserted country--suppose it should be raining and the roads slippery and they should try to make it too fast? So many things are among the possibilities, and one can never be sure until it is over. Some people might feel inclined to smile at this account of a mother's apprehension, but it is only a natural attribute of devoted love, ineffably sweet and beautiful. While the precious child is exposed to possible dangers, she cannot help feeling thus. She talks to the father about it, wanting the comfort of his reassurance; and she lies awake that night imagining things and counting the hours that must separate her from the telegram announcing George's safety. At last the time comes when, according to schedule, she may expect the message. She waits about, in momentary suspense, for the telephone ring from Western Union. Now suppose the minutes pass and then the hours, until the mother's apprehension grows into feverish and unreasoning alarm. She gets word to her husband and communicates her alarm to him. As more time passes, the conviction comes that something has happened to their son, and something must be done. They attempt to get a long distance telephone connection with the home of George's friend, but after a long delay and various appeals, the report comes that there is a break-down on the line somewhere, in the mountain section. They get in communication with the steamboat offices and the railroad station, and after interminable efforts finally ascertain that there has been no accident on either line. There remains the motor trip--or the possibility of a personal mishap to George at some stage of the journey--and no way of telling. In the end, they send a telegram to the mother of George's friend, and resign themselves to wait, in an agony of suspense for the answer. Individuals who are phlegmatic, matter-of-fact, and not very intense in their feelings might be inclined to ridicule this anxiety and suffering on the part of the parents, for so slight a cause; they would fail to understand it. But any mother with children of her own would understand perfectly and be moved to genuine and heart-felt sympathy. The condition of George's mother would naturally evoke the same sort of compassion as the spectacle of Harry on the tree stump, sobbing for his apple. But what of the Jake, in this case--the prime factor of the problem? The Jake in this case, of course, is no other than our only son, George. No trouble of any sort was experienced by him in the various stages of his journey. Upon his arrival, there were a number of new people to meet and various elements of interest in the new surroundings to occupy his attention. For the time being, he forgot to think of the mother he had left behind. Hours later, as they are starting a game of tennis, it suddenly occurs to him that he has not yet sent his telegram home, but as it would be a bother to go back to the house now and he feels like going ahead with the tennis game, he makes a mental note and puts it off. It is not until dinner time that he thinks of it again and when he finds that the telephone is out of order and he would have to motor in to the telegraph office, its doesn't seem worth the trouble. He has allowed so much time to go by already that he decides the most satisfactory way out of it is to wait until he finds time to write a letter and explain, as an excuse for not keeping his promise, that the telephone wasn't working. Before he has an opportunity to write his letter, the telegram arrives from home disclosing his mother's anxiety--whereupon he feels ashamed and sorry, and hurries to the telegraph office to send a reply. This is a more or less typical example of a great many cases where lack of consideration for others is not necessarily due to a lack of affection or sympathy, but comes from a lack of thoughtfulness and understanding. George may love his mother very much and he would not voluntarily hurt her feelings, or be the cause of her suffering. The sight of his mother in tears would cause him unhappiness and he would gladly make a real sacrifice in order to comfort her. But the sight of his mother's suffering, or the thought of his mother's suffering, is not before him--it does not enter into his calculations or motives of conduct. In order for this to take place, a certain amount of reflection and imagination is required on his part. In the case of Harry and Jake and the apple, we assumed that some one came along and called Jake's attention to the unhappiness of Harry. When Jake was made to see and realize, he responded with a feeling of consideration. But in the case of George and the vast majority of cases where this question is involved, no one comes along to explain to you. If the pleasure or pain of others is involved in what you do, the thought of that must come from yourself. Very often those others are not present at the time and the consequences may not be immediately and superficially apparent. Imagination, reflection, and a habit of mind, may be needed to realize the effect upon them. Suppose you have a friend named Brown whom you have known many years and have a good deal of affection for. An unexpected opportunity offers for you to get a week's hunting in the South and you think how fine it would be, if you can get the right sort of companion to share it with you. You see Brown, tell him about it, invite him and he accepts. You immediately start in making plans and arrangements--dogs, guns, food, drinks--leaving nothing undone to make it a bang-up affair and give Brown and yourself the time of your lives. Now suppose when you have fixed up everything and are waiting in joyful anticipation for the hour to arrive, you receive word from Brown, with apologies and a lame excuse, that he must deprive himself of the pleasure of going with you? And suppose you discover later, in an accidental way, that the real reason Brown left you flat was because something else turned up that appealed to him more and he was thinking only of himself? Suppose, now, you are a society lady, or a society man, and you have accepted an invitation from a woman friend to motor out to her country place and dine and spend the night--and suppose when the day arrives, you are offered a box at the opera, that night, to hear Caruso? As this appeals to you much more than the other, you send a wire to the country at the last minute, pretending an indisposition, and go to the opera. What of the woman friend--who had made special efforts and invited certain people on your account, and had counted on you as a main consideration in her whole affair? Your absence upsets her completely, spoils her party, and robs her of something on which she had spent a good deal of time and effort and on which her heart was set. If she ever discovers or suspects the true reason for your desertion, you will have inflicted a wound in her feelings that few friendships can survive and the loss of a friend in this world is hardly to be regarded as a trifling matter. These few examples which we have cited and a countless multitude of others, of a more or less similar nature, which might be drawn from the everyday experiences of any human being, tend to make plain the palpable truth--that very often other people besides ourselves are concerned in our actions and we do violence to our better feelings and theirs, if we leave them out of consideration. Even up-to-date young people of the most selfish order can hardly fail to recognize that and admit it, in certain instances--when the others are before their eyes, or the effect upon them is so direct and immediate that it cannot escape their attention. In such instances they respond instinctively to the finer side of their natures, where sympathy and affection are found. But just as soon as an effort of reflection and imagination is required to realize this same effect on others, there is no longer the same response. The will and the faculty to do this appear, somehow, to be lacking; so that they lose sight of this consideration very easily, and leave it out of account as a controlling influence. Some one else has to direct their attention, do the thinking for them and appeal to their feelings, in order to restore the equilibrium. This difficulty of voluntary reflection and understanding on their part is still greater when it comes to another phase of the question, which is one degree more complicated, but no less vital in its bearing on the affections. You cannot do evil things, or act in such a way as will bring harmful consequences upon yourself, without causing suffering to those who love you. If your mother is very sweet and gentle and loves you devotedly and you have a good deal of tender affection for her, you would not think of striking her a blow on the face with your clenched fist. No impulse within you, however selfish, could make you do that. Yet the pain from such a blow would be as nothing compared to the suffering you might cause her by smoking opium or sniffing cocaine or doing something dishonorable, like forging your father's signature. None of these things affect her directly or personally, but sympathetically, through her love for you. So it is in the case of the boy who, after promising not to drive over thirty miles an hour, goes speeding on the highway and gets arrested. The fine which has to be paid by father is an infinitesimal part of the harm and hurt which is caused the parents. You cannot sit in a draft and catch a heavy cold, without causing a certain amount of anxiety and distress to your sister, or your wife, who are devoted to you--if it runs into pneumonia, the hurt to them is greater; and if you happen to die of it, that may release you from further suffering, only to make theirs heaviest of all. I went to a dance, last summer, at the home of a young married couple in a fashionable community. The hostess was rather an extreme example of the up-to-date school, with the well formed habit of looking at things from the point-of-view of her own inclinations. After the dancing had been going on a short while, she found she was not in the humor for it; the men who asked her to dance didn't interest her, and she felt like going to bed. Being a firm believer in individualism and thinking only of herself, she quietly withdrew and went to bed. A number of her guests had not yet arrived. When they did and sought to greet their hostess, inquiries were made and in the end everybody was apprised of her behavior. She imagined that it concerned only herself, whereas the sympathy, affection, the kindly attitude which all those people were disposed to have for her suffered a shock. A touch of resentment and antipathy was left behind which would make itself felt in future relations. The sympathy and affection of those about us is a part of life too precious and necessary to our well-being to be lightly cast aside. The loss to us and to them, however trifling in any one instance, may in the course of time involve lasting consequences. In the various examples we have cited so far, it has been a question of hurting or depriving others, through lack of consideration. A similar motive comes into play in prompting us to bestow pleasure upon others. Human sympathy causes us to delight in the joy of those we love, just as their sorrow saddens us. We like to give them presents, prepare surprises for them, devise ways and means of adding to their happiness. Such acts on our part are usually accompanied by a very sweet and lovely feeling of sentiment. Our hearts are warmed by the thought and sight of this good that is coming to those we love. Some cynical and shallow reasoners like to argue that such acts are only a disguised form of selfishness because, as we have a sympathetic share in the pleasure, we benefit by it, ourselves. Any such argument is usually found to be no more than a quibble on words and a pretense of cleverness. Nevertheless, as this sort of talk is liable to crop up at any time, in connection with human motives, and cause a confusion of idea, it may be just as well to pause for a moment and dispose of it. If you find our little friend Harry sobbing on a tree stump because he has lost his apple, you feel sorry for him--because you understand and sympathize. If you had an apple in your pocket, you would give it to him. You are not thinking of yourself--you are thinking of him. If Jake comes along and restores the apple and Harry stops crying and offers Jake half, the feeling of gladness that comes to you has nothing selfish in it at all. There is no motive or calculation of self-gratification in the sentiments you have experienced. They are inspired, not by the thought of your own welfare, but the welfare of another. The essence of them is sympathy and affection. So it is with countless acts of kindness which frequently involve the need of denying our selfish inclinations--depriving ourselves of personal gratifications--for the sake of helping others who are in trouble, or bringing pleasure to those we love. The first consideration--the true determining motive--is not any thought of the benefit to ourselves, but the benefit to them. In every-day language the word used to characterize such acts and feelings is generosity--and this is properly and popularly considered the exact opposite of selfishness. Now because it has been observed by thoughtful people that acts of generosity are frequently accompanied by a feeling of satisfaction and gladness, this fact has been seized upon by a certain order of cold-blooded individuals as a pretext for distorting the truth. They argue that this feeling of satisfaction with yourself which comes from generosity is such a desirable thing in your eyes that you want it for yourself--consequently when you show kindness and sympathy for others you are obeying the same motive as the cynic, himself, who having small sympathy for others, prefers the frank gratification of his own ego. This, of course, is pure sophistry. But if any mind is so kinked that it must reason that way, there is a simple answer which will suffice to bring it through the question to the main point. Whenever the pleasure to be derived by an individual comes to him through sympathy and affection and consideration for the feelings of another--that sort of pleasure is so different in its origin and its essence from the pleasure which comes from the gratification of personal appetites and desires that the mass of mankind has recognized the difference since the beginning of civilization. One kind of pleasure flows from acts of sentiment for others' sake; the other kind is rooted in the indulgence of personal desires. The essence of one is usually characterized as generosity; the other, selfishness. If the cynic will promise to keep the distinction clear in his head and stop confusing himself with quibbles or words, he may call the motives any names he likes. This question of consideration for others is so important and far-reaching in its effect on human lives that no pains should be spared to keep it from being lost sight of or misunderstood. And yet, as we have observed, at the present time, among up-to-date individuals, it is apparently being lost sight of, more and more. In a general way, it is being bunched with those other old-fashioned notions and conventions that were wont to interfere with the freedom of the individual. Why should an emancipated ego, brought up in the modern way, be constantly bothered by the thought of others? If we pause and examine this attitude of mind, dispassionately, from another angle, a possible explanation suggests itself. There may be two reasons, of a distinct and different sort why any given person might fail to feel the significance of so vital a part of life. In the first place, some natures may be rather lacking in the qualities of affection and sympathy. All people are not alike, in this respect, by any means. Some are instinctively warm-hearted and intense in their feelings--others are naturally inclined to coldness and indifference. To a cold nature, the woes or pleasures of others are of comparatively minor consequence. There is no rush of heart-felt sympathy, if the supply is so thin and weak that it hardly suffices for the needs of self. That is one explanation of how certain natures, if left to their own resources, can be lacking in consideration. But if we are right in assuming that the general run of human nature is much the same to-day as it has always been, there ought to be the same instincts of sympathy and affection, the same kind of warm-hearts among our new generation, as there were in the time of our grandmothers. As consideration for others is founded on these, there must be some other explanation for the lack of consideration which is a growing tendency, obvious to all. The truth of the matter seems to be that consideration for others is not a primitive instinct like hunger or thirst; nor is it a simple, inborn quality or impulse, like affection or sympathy. It requires a certain amount of thoughtfulness, reflection and control of self, in order to transfer one's attention from one's own inclination and interest to the welfare of another, especially when that other is not at hand to offer a reminder or make an appeal. But under proper guidance, through enlightenment and constant exercise, this faculty is susceptible of such development that it may in time permeate the mind, become an essential part of the character, a sort of second nature, just as real and solid, and infinitely more lovely than the instincts which it dominates. The capacity and capability necessary for this development are present to a greater or less extent in all human natures. But through neglect and mismanagement and lack of enlightenment and exercise, they may shrivel and fade and contribute very little to beauty of character, or the joy of living. In the light of the foregoing observations, there is nothing in the attitude of the new generation toward this whole question which remains incomprehensible, or even very puzzling. Their advanced ideas, when sifted down, would seem to signify no more than insufficient development of the finer and better side of their natures, and a lack of understanding concerning the important rôle which affection and sympathy are capable of playing in the search for happiness. This part of their training and education has been neglected, somehow, in the confusion arising from lost traditions and standards. An essential and beautiful part of their humanity has been allowed to shrivel away until it has been lost sight of in their calculations. In all the past periods of our civilization, when obedience and discipline held sway, no such over-sight was likely to occur. One of the first lessons repeatedly and forcibly impressed upon every growing individual was the necessity of considering other people's wishes. There were three people at least, who had always to be considered--mother, father and God. Consideration of these would be rewarded and lack of consideration, sooner or later, was sure to bring punishment. In this old-fashioned way--crudely, if you will, but nevertheless with relative effectiveness--a habit of mind, was established, involving self-control, which readily became second nature. It became almost instinctive to pause in the presence of temptation or selfish inclination, and consider the effect upon others. Once this habit was formed, the teachings of mother and father, of Sunday school, church and Bible all tended to develop it and extend its application--love your fellows, let your sympathy and affection flow out to them, consider their welfare, in all that you do, and you will be blessed and happy. How is that habit of mind--that second nature--being acquired to-day and how will it be acquired in the future, among people who have ceased to respect the traditions of the past and are pleased to accept the idea of the freedom of the individual, the right to gratify yourself and every inclination, without fear or favor? Must there be a return to the old-fashioned methods and beliefs? Nothing is more unlikely. As a reaction against the present tendency, there may be efforts on the part of some well-intentioned people to return to the régime of obedience, discipline and the fear of God. But such reactions do not usually last very long. The next step that will help toward the real solution of the problem must be forward, not backward. The underlying reason why the old formulas have been losing their prestige is probably because there were fallacies and crudities contained in them which humanity has outgrown. You might look back with longing to the happy state you were in when you believed in Santa Claus, but after you have reached a certain age, all the king's horses and all the king's men cannot bring Santa Claus back to you again. V FAITH If the life of man were confined to the exercise of his senses and material instincts, there would be no problems of conduct. There would be perceptions and sensations,--some pleasant, others disagreeable. Appetites and desires would make themselves felt and he would seek to satisfy them. The underlying motive of all his acts would be to prolong life, go toward pleasure and away from pain. All about us are living things--plants, fish, animals--whose existence, as far as we know, seems limited to these simple considerations. They form part of man's life--one side of his nature--the animal side. If, in addition to this life of the senses, we concede to man a brain, a thinking apparatus, which enables him to remember, compare, calculate, the question of his conduct at any given time is apt to become more complicated, through considerations of reason. As we have seen in our previous discussions, his brain may decide him to forego a present pleasure, in order to escape a future pain; or to endure a present pain, for the sake of a future pleasure. Still, the mere addition of a reasoning mind, would in no way alter the nature of the underlying motive. The considerations would still remain purely animal--prolonging life, getting the greatest sum of pleasure, avoiding the greatest sum of pain. It is not until we begin to take note of the sympathies, affections, generous emotions of which man is capable, that we recognize another and inner nature, which may be concerned and moved by considerations that don't depend upon sensations, or selfish instincts and are not, in their very essence, animal at all. In every day language, this is the heart and the heart-life of man. It is as far removed from the brain, as it is from the senses. The brainiest people may be the least affectionate and the least generous--just as the most sensual people may so be. We have seen, in discussing this side of human nature, the bearing it has on the conduct of the individual. More delicate and more complicated motives and considerations are introduced into the problem through its influence. Its essence is sweeter, finer, less obvious and more elevating than the instincts which the brute beasts share with us. But sensations, calculations and sympathetic emotions are still not enough to explain some of the most important questions and decisions that enter into the life of man. Above and beyond all these, deeper, vaguer, more complicated and more inspiring, is another function or quality--another side of his nature--which distinguishes him completely from all the other earthly creatures. This is the spiritual side, the soul,--the home of conscience, honor, responsibility, idealism. Let us begin with some simple examples: If a big bully kicks a little boy; or a man deserts his friend in the hour of need; or an innocent person is sent to prison;--a feeling of protest arises within me. It tells me such things ought not to be. They are not right, they are wrong. My self-interest has nothing to do with it. As far as I am personally concerned, none of these things makes the slightest difference. If I turn to my intellect, that offers me no explanation. It tells me that the bully is only obeying his natural instincts, in the same way a cat does when it springs on a mouse. It is logical and proper for each and every living thing to act in accordance with its impulses. As for the man who deserts his friend, he is merely looking out for himself--a perfectly reasonable thing for any one to do. When we come to the third case, my intellect tells me that the person sent to prison was given a fair trial in accordance with the laws--the evidence was against him--and he was adjudged guilty. Because I happen to know that he was innocent, does that make the occurrence any less reasonable? As I was not concerned in it, I cannot be held accountable, so what difference does it make to me? My affections give me the same negative response as my self-interest and my reason. The bully, the small boy; the man and his friend; the innocent person--they are strangers to me; no personal attachment applies to any of them. And yet the feeling within me is unmistakable. Where does it come from? That other side of my nature, where dwells the sense of right and wrong. It is just as vague and mysterious, but just as real as another kind of sense to which it may be compared. This other sense also baffles the intellect, but it is none the less generally recognized and accepted. Certain kinds of music, sunsets, moonlight nights, paintings, arouse in me a delicate feeling of pleasure, mixed with admiration. It is not only my physical sensations which are involved--my eyes and my ears--but something deeper within me which seems to be quite apart from reason or intellect. Also my interest and attention are by no means confined to the sensations which I am experiencing; I consider the things themselves and call them beautiful. Certain other sounds and sights strike me as discordant, or unpleasant, and I call them ugly. And the faculty within me which determines this, I call a sense of Beauty. In the same way, this other sense within me is appealed to by certain deeds and qualities of men. That which is fine, just, generous, noble, I call right; another sort of thing, of a contrary tendency, I call wrong. And the faculty, itself, I call a sense of right and wrong. Suppose an individual walking along a road, wondering how he is going to raise fifty dollars which he needs very badly, comes upon an automobile standing in a lonely spot; and then sees a lady who has been picking wild-flowers, get into the automobile and after fussing with her flowers, her wrap, her hand-bag and handkerchief, let drop some small object to the ground, before driving away. He strolls up to the spot and picks up the object, which proves to be a purse containing eighty dollars in bank-notes. There is no one in sight, and after a moment's hesitation, obeying an impulse of self-interest, he pockets the money, throws the purse into the bushes and turns his steps another way. As far as his self-interest and his intellect are concerned, they agree in telling him he is very lucky. He has obtained the money which he wanted, he has broken no law, and there is not the slightest risk or danger of any sort involved in his conduct. He can pay his debt and have money to spare, with every reason to feel happy over his good fortune. But if the spiritual side of his nature is at all developed, he is apt to be tormented by a vague, persistent feeling of another kind. It tells him he has done something unworthy of his better self. In every day language, we say he is troubled by his conscience. It not infrequently happens that individuals who have done wrong are so affected by this feeling that they make restitution and confession when they are safely beyond the reach of detection. Neither the intellect nor self-interest plays any part in such conduct, which is contrary to the advice of both. It is inspired uniquely by this soul-feeling, called conscience. Slightly different from this, but belonging to the same family, is the sentiment of honor. A number of years ago, a young man whom I knew, happened to go to a notorious gambling house in New York, with a couple of companions. One of these young men was a member of a wealthy family and had been frequently to this place, where he was always most welcome. My friend held a clerical position in a financial institution, was making his own living, and at the time had about fifteen hundred dollars in the bank, which represented his entire worldly assets. It was late at night, the young men had been to a party and were in rather a hilarious and reckless mood when they started playing roulette. After they used up the money they had with them, they were allowed to continue playing on credit, chips being supplied to them as called for. My friend, after losing more than he could afford, was urged by desperation to keep on trying to recoup, and when he finally left the house, in the early hours of the morning, he had lost ten thousand dollars. That was the situation which faced him in his sober senses, the next day. A gambling debt has no standing in law. No legal claim of any kind could be made against him and he was perfectly aware of the fact. The proprietor of the establishment was a thoroughly unscrupulous individual with a shady record, and the games played there were open to a suspicion of crookedness. My friend had previously been told that. He had only to let the loss go unpaid and ignore the whole incident, without the slightest fear of consequences, so far as honest people were concerned. But this young man felt that such conduct would not be honorable. So he went to the place again, explained to the proprietor his financial situation and promised to pay off as much as he could, year by year, until the debt was cancelled. It took him five years to accomplish this, and during that time, he stuck faithfully to a resolve not to touch a card or gamble in any way. Later on the young man became vice-president of one of the largest financial institutions in America, a position which he still holds. He had then, and still has a sense of honor. Many a gentleman of good breeding and fine feelings has told deliberate lies and perjured himself under oath, in order to shield the reputation of a lady. Even though he may be under no personal obligation to the lady in question, but merely an accidental witness of some occurrence, a certain kind of man feels compelled by his sense of honor to protect her. It is not honest to tell a lie, it is a legal offense to perjure one's self; there is no reason of the intellect to make you bear false witness and defeat the ends of justice for the sake of an individual, who may have done wrong and be deserving of punishment. Yet so it is and among those who share this sense there is a beauty and nobility about such conduct which is akin to that of a sunset or moonlit night. Let us take an example of a more commonplace kind in the business world. Suppose a certain individual, Jones, living in a small community has a coal yard. When the autumn comes, Jones's bins are piled high and in addition to this, Jones has several carloads of coal on a siding, and numerous other carloads in transit. Jones's brother, who is interested in a coal mine, has advised Jones that as there is prospect of a miner's strike, he had better get his full winter's supply in advance, with a little extra and this has been so arranged. The strike takes place as predicted and then owing to war conditions in Europe, there comes a coal shortage throughout the land. With the arrival of the first touch of winter various people in the community begin sending orders to Jones. In the meantime, he has been doing a little thinking. His customers have got to have coal and they've got to buy it from him. Under existing conditions, there is no other way for them to procure it, at any price. So to speak, he holds them in the hollow of his hand. His entire supply has cost him five dollars a ton and he had figured to sell it at six, which would allow him his usual satisfactory profit. But now it dawns upon him that if he refuses to sell a single ton of it for less than twenty dollars, his people will have to pay that, or freeze, and he will make more profit in this one winter than all the rest of the years put together. So he makes up his mind to put up his price to twenty dollars and to meet all complaints by replying with a shrug that he is not asking any one to buy--they are free to get their coal elsewhere. Is not Jones perfectly honest? Would any business man of the present day blame him? Is he not entitled to make all the money he can, in accordance with the laws? Is there not every reason for his intellect to approve of his shrewdness in taking advantage of his opportunity? But suppose Jones's mother is a sweet, old-fashioned lady whom he has always loved and revered; and suppose upon learning of the situation, she calls her son to her side, takes his hand in hers and talks to him in this wise: "My son, these people are all dependent upon you, to keep from freezing. They are entirely at your mercy. To take advantage of helpless people and fleece them of their savings, because unexpected circumstances have placed them in your power, is not the kind of thing I could bear to see you do. It does not seem to me quite worthy or honorable." I have imagined it to be Jones's mother speaking thus; but if Jones's father happened to be an old-fashioned gentleman of a certain type, or an artist, a poet, a musician, he might be moved by the same feeling--a matter, not of honesty, but of honor. Jones, however, being a typical business man of the present day, is not conscious of any such feeling. If by chance, an idea of this kind did creep into his head, he would dismiss it as quixotic, not practical. He believes that "business is business." If you ask him whether Shylock was right and justified in demanding his pound of flesh, he might hesitate a moment, but after thinking it over, he would probably reply: "If Shylock had a proper contract calling for such a penalty and had lent his money on those conditions, he was entirely within his rights. If the other parties weren't prepared to live up to the terms of the agreement, they had no business to sign their names to it. That was their lookout. Their only recourse is to show something irregular or illegal in the way it was drawn up and quash it on that count, or else settle up in accordance with its stipulations. Shylock had performed his part of the agreement and he demanded that the other party should do the same." If you questioned Jones further about himself, you might learn that he had always believed and practiced the principle that "Honesty is the best policy," and nothing could swerve him from it. This has nothing to do with that inner feeling called a sentiment of honor. It is of a different essence entirely. When sifted down, it is found to consist of reason, experience and a matter-of-fact calculation of self-interest. If you don't cheat, or break the laws, and establish a reputation for honest dealing, you will gain more by it in the long run than you lose. Nothing very inspired or inspiring about that, or very different in kind from the principle of the crook who says: "If I take care to avoid detection, but pay no attention to right and wrong, I will gain more in the long run than I lose." The detail of the calculation is different, but the motive and object are the same--self-interest and self-advantage. The soul, the conscience, the sentiment of honor are not involved in either. During the late war, tens of thousands of individuals and corporations followed Jones's example and chuckled with glee as the undreamed-of profits rolled in. They took advantage of the situation and became what is known as profiteers. The brain and self-interest were acting over time, but the spiritual nature was slumbering. Suppose you are making a visit to a business friend and he leaves you alone in his office for a few minutes, while he is called out by some emergency--and suppose he has left on his desk an envelope containing business secrets which you could profit by--and suppose you take advantage of your opportunity, open the envelope, glance at the papers, get the information and later on make good use of it? An individual who is capable of doing that must be rather lacking in the sense of honor. If a business man happened to tell his wife something of a confidential nature, as some husbands do, and the wife were indiscreet enough to mention it to your wife, without realizing its full import, and your wife repeated it to you, and you thereupon proceeded to communicate it to the business man's competitor--you might not break any law, or do anything dishonest, and your intellect might tell you there was profit for yourself to be gained by it--and many another person in your place might jump at the chance--but for all that, there ought to be a feeling within you to prevent you doing it, because it would not be honorable. In the world of politics, some people might feel that it is not honorable to use a position of public trust for private ends. Suppose you have it in your power to make an appointment which might prove very lucrative to a certain type of individual who has no scruples about graft. Among your political henchmen there is just such an individual and he wants the appointment. There is another man whom you might appoint, if you chose to, a high-minded, public-spirited man, fitter and better for it in every way; but the political henchman was an important factor in obtaining for you the office which you now occupy; his good will and influence may be very helpful in your future campaigns, whereas the other man has done nothing for you and is without political influence. If you gave him the appointment, you would make an enemy of your henchman and his followers. Your self-interest and your intellect combine in showing you what a mistake that would be. Usually a politician, by the time he has been selected by other politicians as a candidate for office, has become amenable to reason and may be counted on to avoid such a mistake. But occasionally a gentleman of another sort finds himself in this position and he refuses to do the usual thing, because it goes counter to an inner feeling--his sense of honor. So it is with countless other questions of conduct, which at various times, in various communities, with various individuals, involve this feeling. In some people it is highly developed and frequently determines the motive of conduct, in a fine, noble, compelling way which is directly opposed to material considerations of self-interest. In other people, it is so feeble, and crude that its wee small voice is seldom heeded or heard in the calculations and decisions of their practical lives. In addition to the sentiments of honor and conscience and right and wrong, there are various other fine and noble feelings to which the soul of man is susceptible, to a greater or less extent, according to the individual nature. Self-respect, loyalty, gratitude, responsibility, self-sacrifice may be cited, by way of suggestion. Now, while there can be no doubt that human nature is capable of all these feelings and that individuals have been found to possess them, in different communities, at different times, it is equally obvious that among vast numbers of other individuals they find little or no expression. There have been periods in the history of certain peoples when nearly all the nobler sentiments seem to have shrivelled up. The Roman Empire, when it was in its decay; the upper classes of England, after the Restoration; France, during the period which preceded the Revolution--are examples of such a condition. The leading citizens appear to have thrown conscience to the winds and let themselves go, without restraint, to a life of dissipation, corruption, and the indulgence of the senses. Also in our country, among certain classes, in certain communities, it is quite apparent that the finer feelings, the moral standards, of the average individual are at a lower ebb, than they seem to be in certain other sections. In view of these observations, it is fairly safe to conclude that the spiritual feelings of man are subject to alteration, through an influence or influences of some sort. The same sort of influence that shows its general effect in a given class or community may be presumed to be at work on the nature or character of the individuals who compose that community. If the sentiment of honor, for instance, is a vital compelling force in one individual, and is so weak or deficient in another as to be a negligible quantity, what is the explanation of this difference? What influence has developed the sentiment in one, and retarded or eliminated it in the other? On what does it depend? What causes it to come to life in the human soul? What good is it, when it does come? The same questions apply to conscience, loyalty, responsibility, right and wrong. Whence do they come--and what are they good for? These questions are simple to ask--but when one attempts to answer them in a simple, convincing way, they are found to be full of hidden depths and complexities. Down below them, is another question which is included in them all and which sooner or later must be faced by each and every one of us: "Why am I here on earth? Has my life any purpose in the great, everlasting scheme of things? What is that purpose?" Until we have arrived at some sort of an answer to that question, we cannot make much headway in answering the others. If there were no purpose at all to an individual life, what difference would it make whether he had a conscience or not? If his purpose is to get as much satisfaction out of life as he can, between his birth and his death, why shouldn't he go about it in any old way that suits himself? What real difference does it make whether he chooses to indulge in alcohol, opium, and other dissipations for a short while, or prefers to prolong his span by sticking to wheat, potatoes and sobriety? Purely a matter of personal taste, to be decided by each individual for himself. Suppose on account of his affections and sympathies for other individuals, the idea occurs to him that he was meant to serve them, also? What real difference would that make if their lives had no other purpose, either? They will all be dead very soon, anyhow, whether you join with them in a mutual serving society, or not. If there is no other end in view for each and every one, but to live and die, what boots it? But suppose it might be that after death their spirits could live on, in an unknown world? Even so, any service you happened to do for them, here, would hardly be counted in their favor, over there. But mightn't it be counted in your favor--over there? Isn't it possible that every kind and helpful thing you do for your fellow men in your life on earth might be to the advantage of your spirit in the other world? Suppose it could be proved that this were the true purpose of life--to win benefit and glory for your spirit in the world beyond? "Well," you might reply, "--if that is the way things stand, it would be putting a big premium on canny foresight. A cold-blooded, utterly selfish individual could make his calculations accordingly and feather his future nest at every opportunity, while the rest of us poor devils who couldn't calculate so well would be piling up future trouble. "Is that what is meant by soul and conscience and honor? Does the 'spiritual side of man's nature,' when stripped of its camouflage, mean a shrewd calculation which seeks to gain a lasting reward for the spirit, after the body is used up?" In the face of such a question, of such a line of thought, there is something within us which revolts. If we can find words to express the cause and nature of this revolt, so much the better; but even if we cannot, a vague but unshakable feeling persists within us that any views of this sort are superficial, inadequate and uncomprehending. Just as we found, in connection with human sympathy and affection, that cold reason might make the mistake of trying to explain them in terms of selfishness, so we find that when reason undertakes to penetrate into the human soul, it is apt to emerge with a distortion which lacks the essence of the whole thing. In the first place, so far as reason goes, after countless generations of man on earth, what evidence has yet been discovered to prove conclusively that when a man dies, the spirit of him disengages itself from the dead body and goes on to an unknown world to continue life there? When a dog dies, does the spirit of him do the same thing? A bird? A spider? A germ? A flower? They all have the spirit of life within them--a wonderful complex life--and a struggle for existence on earth--of much the same sort as man's. I was talking to a charming lady, the other day, who said she firmly believes that the spirits of them all go on to a better world, along with man's. But whether they do, or whether they don't, what means has any intellect been able to find in all these centuries to settle the question and prove it scientifically, without fear of contradiction? Even if the intellect were satisfied to take so much for granted, at a guess, for the sake of having something to go by, there still remains the same element of uncertainty surrounding the question: "Why am I here? If my spirit is the only part of me that is destined to live on, what was the need of chaining it for this short space of time to animal instincts and a perishable body?" All sorts of theories have been advanced, in the search for a plausible explanation, but again, in all the ages of civilization, no conclusive proof has been found that any one of them is the right one. In ancient times the theory seemed to be that the purpose of life was to develop the body to its highest state of prowess and beauty and to make liberal sacrifices to the gods, in order to gain and retain their favor. The idea seems to have been current for many centuries that when the spirit mounted to another world, it somehow carried the shape and characteristics of the earthly body along with it. Reason enough to make the body strong and beautiful, if the spirit were to continue tied up to it eternally. Even in Shakespeare's time and all through the Middle Ages, whenever departed spirits were supposed to come back to earth to communicate with mortals, they always appeared in the same bodily form they had had on earth. On this assumption, if one individual happened to die when his body was young and strong and handsome, his spirit would have an advantage over another individual, who lasted on earth until his body was old, decrepit and ugly. It may be that the unfairness of this thought had something to do with the eventual discarding of the belief. It may also be that in the course of time and accumulated experience, the more advanced intellects arrived at the conclusion that sacrifices made to the gods had little perceptible effect on the course of events. In any case European civilization appears to have arrived at a stage where it was ripe and ready for another sort of conception. This other conception was the unimportance and unworthiness of the body and all material things. The spirit was the only thing that signified and that was to be dedicated to the service of the Lord, as announced in divine commandments. Sacrifices on the altar or gifts to the priests would avail nothing, if the spirit were undutiful. The Lord was to be worshipped and addressed in prayer--and He was at all times prepared to mete out rewards and punishments in strict accordance to the deserts of the spirit. Good and worshipful spirits would be blessed with everlasting life in paradise, while those who disobeyed the commandments, or neglected to be baptized and worship in the ordained way would be consigned to eternal torture and damnation. This theory was accepted by many millions of people and for a long time held an awe-inspiring sway over their imaginations. At the same time, in different parts of the world, India, China, Mexico, Egypt and various countries, a number of other theories concerning the spirit and the body were advanced as the basis of religious beliefs; and these were accepted by countless other millions of people with the same awe-inspiring credulity. One feature of these various religions which appears to apply to them all, is worth noting. Each professed the belief that their God or gods ruled in supreme control of the entire universe, eternally, and that all other so-called gods and so-called religions of other peoples which interfered with this idea must necessarily be false and spurious. In this respect, our own Christian view is like the others. In pursuance of it, immense sums of money, untiring effort and many lives have been spent by devout believers to convince remote peoples of the error of their doctrines and the truth of ours. But if an unbiased and impartial intellect were permitted to go about among all the different religious sects on earth, and found each and every one proclaiming with the same fervid conviction the unique and everlasting truth of their doctrine and the error of all others, how far could it get in the way of a reasonable conclusion? There is a sort of conclusion, which appears fairly obvious. If any one of the doctrines should in truth be all that is claimed for it--the divine revelation, or the divine inspiration, of an Almighty Providence--then all the other doctrines can be no more than theories, more or less ingenious, more or less erroneous, mere products of man's imagination. Then countless millions of people for countless generations have been left to lead their lives without a right understanding of life or death, the body or the soul, or the real purpose or design for which they were created and by which they will be judged? Only the few lucky ones who happened to be born and brought up in the one true belief can have the advantage of grasping the situation. To an impartial intellect, there would seem to be something about such an arrangement hardly fair or just to all the other countless millions. But even so, and admitting what is apparently obvious, how could any amount of reasoning arrive at a decision in the matter? There is nothing to prove that _all_ the theories and doctrines may be any more than guesses, bolstered up with impressive formalities and imagery, according to the needs and temperament, of the races for whom they were made. Taken as a whole, they suggest a great confusion of ideas and many curious contradictions concerning the purpose of man's earthly life and the destiny of his soul. Has man really a soul, at all? In what part of his body is it located? What ground is there for imagining that it is any more immortal than his heart or his eye? We can study the eye and dissect it and arrive at a fairly accurate idea of how it works. We know that it can be blinded--put out; also we know that if anything stops the heart from beating, the eye, the brain and our other functions cease to operate and become transfixed in death. Why should this not apply as well to the soul, if there is a function in man which goes by that name? Enough has been said to indicate a few of the difficulties which stand in the way, when we approach the consideration of man's spiritual nature. A study of the various religions and spiritualistic beliefs which are current in the world to-day would be a tedious task for the average mind and would probably be of little practical use or help to any one. The same may be said about the scientific theory of evolution. That is essentially an effort of the intellect, focusing the attention on details, processes and stages of development in living things and arriving no nearer to a solution of the unexplainable than we were in the beginning. Suppose I happen to be impressed by the beauty and wonder of an orange tree, with its golden, luscious fruit, its delicately tinted and deliciously scented blossoms, its graceful leaves and branches, its symmetrical trunk so firmly rooted in the ground? Merely as a piece of machinery, as a little factory, designed to manufacture a certain kind of edible product, it is far more ingenious, economical and generally marvellous than anything the combined brains of mankind have been able to design throughout the centuries. It is automatic, self-lubricating, self-repairing and goes on, year after year, in fair weather or foul, turning out its brand of juicy pulp, done up charmingly in little yellow packages. How does it operate? How does it always manage to get the necessary raw materials from the earth and the air? How do the roots and the leaves and the sap ever contrive to convert these into perfume and blossoms and pulp and pigment? Now suppose a scientific intellect comes along and, after investigating, dissecting, analyzing, eventually holds out before my eyes a tiny white seed which it has located in the centre of the yellow package--and says: "This is the explanation of the whole thing. That orange tree is merely the result, by a process of natural development and evolution, of this seed. We have studied it all out, step by step. If you will give us one of these seeds to start with and some ground to put it in, there is no mystery about it at all. We can show you how the whole thing happens. Of course, it takes considerable time--but time is nothing to Nature. In this case, only four or five years are required for the seed to become transformed into a fruit-bearing orange tree." "But," say I, "your investigations and explanations only add to my amazement. The design and formation of that little seed is even more wonderful and incomprehensible than the full-grown orange tree. Within its tiny compass, it not only contains all the complicated miraculous processes which convert earth and air and water into fragrant blossoms, juicy pulp and golden oranges, but it contains in addition to that, other miraculous powers which enable it to develop and transform itself into a special kind of beautiful tree, with roots and branches and leaves. As compared to this one little seed, all the greatest inventions and achievements of man seem like the crudest bungling." "Tut, tut," replies the scientific intellect, "this is only one sort of seed. There are hundreds, thousands of others, some so small that they look like grains of dust. Each one of these is a complete manufacturing plant, perfect in every detail, each designed to turn out a special kind of product, different from all the others. One of the most remarkable points about them is that they require no special materials--each and every one of them makes use of the same common ingredients, earth, air, light, water. From those ingredients, this little machine, for instance, working automatically, can turn out a giant red-wood tree, which will last for centuries. This other little one, next to it, working in the same way, will produce thousands upon thousands of roses, of a certain beautiful shade of color and a certain delicate fragrance. And so it is with all these other little machines, which we call seeds,--however amazing the difference in the kind of product, it is due entirely to certain subtle differences in their design." "But," say I, "what sublime intelligence conceived the plan of those machines, and what kind of sublimely skilful craftsman was able to fashion them?" "They were made automatically by the various trees and plants." "But who conceived the plan of the trees and plants?" "The trees and plants were produced automatically by other little seeds, like these." "But the first one of these seeds, or the first one of these trees--who conceived and executed that?" "Oh, that," says the scientific intellect, "came about through a process of evolution, which extends way back thousands of centuries. We have studied it carefully and reasoned it all out to our entire satisfaction. "These plant seeds are only one part of it. There are also all the animals and animalculae, including man. There are thousands of different kinds of living creatures and each kind has a distinct design from all the rest, which appears to have been determined by the special purpose for which it was intended. "As a matter of fact, they are nothing more or less than the results of evolution, natural selection and the survival of the fittest. All we require for the demonstration of our theory, is a little bit of protoplasm at the beginning of things and a mass of elemental matter in an unformed state." "But," say I, "are you sure you are not trying to befuddle me and befuddle yourself by the use of obscure words? You use the word "protoplasm"--but if you mean by that a kind of machine, like the orange pit or the red-wood seed, your evolution theory and your scientific chain of reasoning and all your big words merely bring us back to the point where we started and really explain nothing at all. The orange seed, if left to itself in the midst of elemental matter will produce a certain kind of tree and countless oranges. A bit of protoplasm, if left to itself in the midst of elemental matter, will not only produce an orange tree and a red-wood tree, but an elephant, a spider, a human being--all the countless species of living things to be found in the universe. It may take the protoplasm a longer time to turn all this out, but it is a bigger job and time is of small account in such a consideration. "All I can say is that I prostrate myself in abject and bewildered admiration before that bit of protoplasm. If anything could be more wonderful than the orange seed with which we started, your protoplasm is certainly it. It is a miracle of a million miracles. "But there is one thing you forgot to tell me--the only thing of any real interest or importance to the average mind in such a theory. What sublime intelligence conceived the plan of that bit of protoplasm--and what kind of sublimely skilful craftsman was able to fashion it?" "Oh that," says the scientific intellect--"that just happens to be one point which our chain of reasoning has not yet been able to demonstrate in a logical and satisfactory way. We have left that out of our theory." "Well then," say I, "here are trees and flowers and animals and mankind, each perfectly adapted for the special function on earth for which they were apparently designed. The plan of them appears to have been determined, somewhere, somehow, by a sublime intelligence which surpasses understanding, for some sublime purpose, apparently, which I am yearning to know. All the details, complications and assumptions of your theory when boiled down to simple terms seem more or less of a quibble on words and meanings. "Your conclusions are of much the same sort as those of the intellectual cynic whom we quoted in connection with sympathy and affection. He undertook to prove with a chain of reasoning that I obey only motives of selfishness when I shed tears of grief because my friend has lost his only son." Here we are living together on earth to-day, and here were our fathers and forefathers living, in the same general way with the same general instincts and feelings, as far back as we have any record of; and here presumably will our children and their descendants continue to be living, as far as our imagination can carry us. Whether the process of our creation involved a bit of protoplasm in the midst of chaos, or whether we were evolved from a thought and a breath of an Almighty God, is of very slight consequence as a human consideration. In view of the wonderful harmony and fitness of the countless processes and things which we see everywhere about us in nature, it is not strange that mankind seems always to have taken it for granted that a supremely wise and a supremely resourceful intelligence of some sort is responsible for it all. The beginning, the end, the scheme and purpose of so many miracles, extend into the beyond, the unknown, the incomprehensible. What the Supreme Being is like--how or why He came into existence--where matter or life first came from--or even what the connection is between the creatures of this world and the countless stars and planets which may be other worlds--all this is shrouded in the mystery of mysteries. If we get to thinking very much about it, one of the effects is to make the affairs of man and the like of man seem tiny and unimportant in comparison to the whole--one kind of little creatures on one little globe, when we know there are thousands upon thousands of bigger globes in the firmament and possibly millions and billions of larger and more exalted creatures on many of them. But it is only man's intellect that gets tangled up and discouraged by that kind of reasoning. Another side of man's nature comes to the fore and disposes of this tangle with more inspiring sentiments. These sentiments tell us that a marvellous scheme of life is at work in our world, every detail of which from the lowest to the highest appears to have received exactly the same sort of sublime consideration--and that of this entire scheme, the spirit of man has been constituted the leader and master. On this earth at least man is a kind of divine lieutenant, the captain, the commander, the generalissimo of all living things. Somehow, somewhere, there must be a sublime purpose to it all, because it is dominated throughout by a sublime intelligence, an apparently all-wise Providence. Somehow, somewhere, the spirit of man has a never ending responsibility and an awe-inspiring, exalted destiny. Whether this be true or not, and however, the scientific intellect may be inclined to quibble with arguments and conclusions, there is something inside of each and every one of us to a greater or less extent, which makes us feel that this is so. This something within us, which responds to such a feeling, is a function quite apart from the intellect--the most highly developed intellects often have the least of it; it is equally removed from the loves and hates, sympathies and antipathies of our heart life; and equally far away from the perceptions and appetites of our senses. It is the side of man's nature which for the want of a better name, we call the soul. And the feeling of the soul that there is somewhere an all-wise Providence, sublime purpose in everything, an exalted destiny for man--irrespective of proof, or science, or calculation or demonstrations of any sort--that feeling in its simplest essence is what we call faith. "In God We Trust"--that is the motto which appears on American coins. Without great exaggeration, it might be called the motto of humanity, everywhere, at all times. It is a soul feeling; an expression of fundamental faith. Now as this feeling is not dependent on the reasoning faculty, there should be nothing amazing in the fact that it has been found susceptible of being developed and led far afield in the direction of credulity. All sorts of fairy-tales have been invented by man's imagination, in different countries, at different periods, and imposed upon the simple faith of the masses in order that they might be guided and controlled in a manner that the leading spirits considered best for them. Idols, divine revelations, oracles, prayers, sacrifices, confessionals, priests, prophets, medicine men, sacred dances and prostrations, awe-inspiring rites and ceremonies of almost every conceivable kind have been resorted to, in order to attain results which were considered beneficial. In nearly every case, it is safe to say the effort was inspired by an intense soul feeling on the part of an individual, however much it may have been seasoned with shrewdness and calculation and understanding of the people for whose good it was intended. It is generally admitted that the age in which we live is a scientific age. Scientific investigations, scientific explanations, scientific inventions, scientific methods and theories, are dominant factors in the progress to which modern civilization has been devoting so much of its energy. In our schools, and colleges and text-books, the growing mind is being taught to approach all subjects and questions from a reasonable, practical and scientific point-of-view. One of the first principles of all science is to take as little as possible for granted, but to investigate and prove everything, without prejudice, in strict accordance with the facts. This is the typical attitude of to-day, encouraged and absorbed on every side and becoming more wide-spread with each passing year. Suppose a young man or woman, trained in this way, in school and college, by books of science, magazine articles, newspapers and discussions of one sort or another connected with modern progress, is prompted one fine day to turn his attention to this question of religion and undertake an enquiry into that? Sooner or later, this is very apt to happen to any one, because the churches and ceremonies are all about; and when an individual mind reaches a stage where it wants to think for itself, it can hardly escape from arriving at some conclusion concerning them. A modern person so trained, is apt to perceive very quickly that many of the statements and assumptions made in the name of any particular religion are unscientific and inaccurate and not much more reasonable than Aladdin and his wonderful lamp, or Jack and the Beanstalk. They pre-suppose an amount of childlike credulity and ignorance on the part of the worshipper, which can only be explained to his mind by the primitive state of the people for whom they were originally intended. In view of this, the natural tendency for a practical scientific mind of the present generation is to regard the church question as a rather curious and perplexing survival which, for family and personal reasons, it might be just as well to leave alone. As science cannot discover how the first protoplasm was created, and as the preaching of the various religions is interwoven with fanciful and unsound assumptions, the most logical solution is to cease bothering one's head about it. One trouble with this is, that the soul is an important part of man's life and it has need of faith of some sort. To a great extent, civilization depends upon it. If all the people about us had no soul and no faith, it is hard to imagine what the world would be like. We can imagine, in a way, by turning our attention to the criminal classes. Consider for a moment the make-up of a typical crook--a thief, a burglar, a kidnapper, a hold-up man--a so-called "enemy of the law." What is the underlying difference between him and a worthy citizen? Is it simply that one breaks the law, while the other does not? That is only an apparent, superficial difference, based on results. A worthy man might break the law repeatedly, without becoming in the least a crook; a crook might stay within the law, most carefully and cautiously, without altering in the slightest degree, the essence of his crookedness. The real significant difference lies deeper down, in his nature and attitude--attitude toward his fellow men, toward himself, toward the mystery of life. A crook usually has the same sort of appetites and desires as anybody else. He may have the keenest perceptions and excellent taste in matters of beauty and other pleasure-giving refinements. As far as the sensations of life go, and the development of the senses, he may be far above the average, and many of them undoubtedly are. As for brains, many crooks of the higher order are remarkably quick and resourceful, while not a few have had superior education and book learning. It is also undoubtedly true that they may have warm hearts and loving natures, and be capable of an unusual amount of loyalty and devotion to their pals. In addition to that, they are frequently very patient, self-controlled and fearless. But there is just one quality, one side of their natures, that is deficient--the soul, with its faith. They have no feeling of responsibility within them toward an unknown but holy purpose, toward an all-wise Being, who created the world and entrusted to man a spirit capable of leading it. Without this feeling, there is no real meaning to the words right and wrong; and that is the essential mark of a crook. Outside of a few intimates whom he is attached to, the rest of mankind with its laws and aspirations, represents nothing more than a hostile force to be preyed upon and gotten the best of. Provided he can avoid punishment, a crook feels no objection to cheating, stealing, or cutting a throat. This appears to be the natural principle of life among wild animals, the fish in the sea, the spider and the fly; and it would presumably be the same among men, if man were without a soul and devoid of faith. There is no feeling of right and wrong among animals, when left to themselves. They merely try to get what they want, by any means at their disposal. In doing this, their only concern is to save their own skins and to avoid a mix-up with another animal or animals stronger than themselves. In the case of crooks and criminals, these other animals which concern them are usually the representatives of the law. Certain kinds of animals--dogs, horses, pets--may be tamed and trained by man into an imitation notion of right and wrong. But it is only a superficial imitation, essentially different in composition from the genuine article. A dog may learn in time that if he chases the pet cat, his master will give him a beating. After learning this lesson, he may still occasionally give himself the satisfaction of chasing the cat up a tree, but after he has done so, he will show his training by looking guilty, hanging his tail and sneaking off into the bushes. He knows he has done wrong. In this case, however, it simply means that he is anticipating and seeking to mitigate an expected beating. The pain of a beating is bad; a lump of sugar is good, any animal can grasp that, and some animals may be trained to connect the cause and effect. But that is not at all the same kind of thing as the conception of right and wrong that grows up in man and finds its true explanation in a soul feeling. This vague, but fundamental, feeling of faith in a divine purpose of some sort for the life of each individual is not dependent upon any particular religion, or creed, or doctrine. It appears to have found expression at all stages of civilization in all countries of which we have any record. It was found to exist among the savage American Indians and the Aztec Mexicans, as it existed in the earliest mummy age of ancient Egypt, and among the earlier warriors of Europe, as depicted by Homer. Among the yellow races of China and Japan, the recognition of this same faith extends back to the farther-most records of time. Whether it evolved from a protoplasm, or was implanted in man by the Creator, it may be regarded as an essential part of the all-wise scheme--which is, which was, and which presumably always will be. By some such process of observation and reasoning as we have been going through, it is possible to arrive at a relatively safe and satisfactory conclusion to the first soul question: "Has my life any purpose in the great, everlasting scheme of things?" The answer is: "Undoubtedly. A feeling to that effect is to be found universally among mankind. The intention of the Creator, which surpasses understanding, in this one respect, at least, appears to be unmistakable." Attached to this conclusion is the second part of the question, to which an answer may be found by a similar process of observation and reasoning: "Granted that I am assured by an inner feeling that my life has some purpose--what is that purpose?" It is not difficult to discern a general and practically uniform purpose in normal human beings. First, of course, is the primal instinct of self-preservation, a feeling that life itself is precious and must be held on to as long as possible. Along with this, goes another primal instinct--to create new life and protect that--and thus continue your race and kind on earth indefinitely. It is easy enough to see that if these two instincts were lacking, or if any other considerations were allowed to impair their force, the scheme of the world would come to an end. Whatever the purpose of a human life might be, that purpose would be futile, if there were no human lives to accomplish it. So that these two instincts are necessary conditions of any other plan or design. They are the first and foremost considerations in all life, in all civilizations. Not only are they instinctive impulses of man's animal nature, which he shares with brute beings, but they also appeal to his innermost soul with the strongest feelings of which he is capable. It is right for him to protect himself; it is right for him to protect his wife and children; it is right for him to protect his relatives and friends and fellows from any and all enemies. In order to do this he will kill other human beings, if necessary, in case of war, or attack; and his conscience will not reproach him; it will tell him he has done right. This feeling has been implanted in all normal human beings--it has always been and presumably always will be. It may be regarded as part of the divine intention. It is also an unmistakable purpose for each individual--to preserve his own life and strive for its continuation in his off-spring. That is the first and foremost thing for you to live for. Why? Because the strongest feelings of your whole nature, in accord with your conscience, tell you so. If we consider woman as distinct from man, we find her strongest instinct and deepest inner feelings impel her to care for and protect her off-spring; but that instead of an impulse to go out and fight against the enemy, she feels in her conscience that it is right and natural for her to rely upon the husband and father to do that. It is for her to stick close to the babies and pray for his success. That is the only difference--a fundamental difference in the innermost feeling of the male and the female--which appears to have existed always, and may therefore be regarded as a part of the divine intention. Now, after the continuation of life on earth is safeguarded in this way, is there any other deep and general feeling of man's inner nature which might furnish an indication of a further purpose for his life? Is there not in each and every one of us a deep-rooted desire, which is wholly in accord with conscience, to make good in the rôle which has been assigned to us in the mystery of creation? Does not each individual feel moved to accomplish something beyond the mere continuation of life? Is there not within us a vague aspiration to do well and be something good and fine, according to our means and tastes? Do we not want to be a success rather than a failure, both for our own sake and for the sake of those we love, who also love us, and cannot help being affected by what we do? If by any chance you are deficient in this feeling yourself, or confused about it, you have only to look about any where, at any time, and you will find it in evidence among normal individuals from the days of early childhood. A little girl likes to be pretty, to dance well, to sew neatly, to be helpful to her mother, to be petted, loved, approved. A little boy wants to be a fast runner, a fine swimmer, a good fighter--he wants to be strong and brave and self-reliant and many other things, besides. He admires these qualities in other boys; a feeling of his inner nature, in accord with his conscience, tells him he would like to be that kind of a boy, himself. He feels it is the kind that every one ought to want to be. And if he is a normal, healthy boy, this feeling arises within him just as naturally and spontaneously as the feeling which comes to a sensitive soul in the presence of a sunset, or musical harmonies and tells it they are beautiful. It is quite apart from any far-sighted calculations of the intellect concerning the practical use which those qualities may, or may not, have in after life. The same thing is true of the little girl and what she admires and aspires to. As the youngsters grow up to be men and women, they are still susceptible to the same sort of feeling, in spite of the fact that many other more practical and material considerations are liable to creep in and confuse it, alter it, distort it. Somewhere, in the inner nature of almost everybody, there persists a feeling of admiration for the fine and noble qualities of mankind. Some of those qualities, experience may have demonstrated, are beyond our personal strength and reach--others may have practical disadvantages, which our self-interest and our reason over-rule, but as long as the feeling is there, it keeps whispering to us, however faintly, that we ought to try to live up to the best that is in us and not be satisfied with less. Let us take care to note that this differs completely from another sort of feeling which cold-blooded cynics are apt to confuse it with. This other feeling is inspired by greed and controlled by selfish calculation, and tells certain individuals that by closing their eyes to what is beautiful and admirable in human nature, and by taking advantage of any and every opportunity, they may obtain a greater portion of worldly goods and material pleasures. This latter feeling is not in touch with conscience and neither to ourselves, nor to others, does it inspire ennobling sentiments. A proper name for it is ambition--a selfish quality, whose essence bears no relation to the aspiration of boy and girl, man and woman, toward what is finest and best. This feeling of aspiration, which exists in the soul and appears to be innate in human beings everywhere, offers a clear and indisputable revelation of a purpose for man's life, above and beyond the mere continuation of it. It is one very solid answer to the second part of the great question: What is the purpose of my life? To strive toward betterment and excellence, in accordance with your lights and conscience. Why? Because, just as a feeling within you tells you that a sunset is beautiful, so there is this other feeling within you, which tells you this is fine and right. Those are fundamental feelings, planted in all mankind, not accidental exceptions. They are surely a part of the all-wise design, an essential part of your purpose in being here. The finest types of men, the leading spirits of humanity, in all ages and climes, from the earliest savages to the most advanced civilization, have always had that kind of feeling and responded to it. It is a fundamental fact of the soul life, which leaves no room for doubt. Is there any other feeling of this sort which appears to be so fundamental and world-wide that it may be regarded as an innate and essential part of human nature, independent of climate, or race, or intellectual development? Is there not a sentiment deep down in all mothers and fathers, to want their children to be finer, better, more nearly perfect than they themselves have been? Has not this sentiment something in it which is quite apart from self-interest, or reason, or the impulses of affection? Suppose a normal mother is on her death-bed, with but an hour to live? As far as she is concerned, all considerations of self-interest in this world are at an end. After one hour, nothing that happens can make any difference to her, personally. Her children are in an adjoining room and her thoughts and feelings are full of them. That is only natural--almost inevitable. What is the essence of her feelings? Love, in the first place. They are inexpressibly dear to her and she feels glad and thankful that all is well with them. What next? A prayerful hope that they will be happy and successful and live to a ripe old age. For her sake? No, for theirs. Does she wish them to be liars and cheats and ingrates, dissipated and corrupt, if by so doing they can have most pleasure and satisfy themselves? Oh no--not that. Why not? Because there is something within her which wants them to be fine and good and worthy of their birthright. She wants them to cling fast to the best that is in them, not the worst; to do right and be right, whether it serves their pleasure or not. If a mother would naturally feel this way on her death-bed, so might a father, or a grandmother or a grand-father, in any country--in almost any state of civilization--irrespective of any particular creed or doctrine, to which they might subscribe. This is not to be taken as saying that all mothers or fathers would be conscious of this feeling--or would have this feeling in them to any appreciable extent--or that all individuals may be said to have any of the fundamental soul feelings to which we have referred. Throughout all nature, and in human life as well, there are to be found individual deficiencies and perversions. Since this is as true to-day, as it has been always, in all departments of creation, we can be content to regard it as part of the all-wise but mysterious scheme. To the best of our knowledge and belief, in practically all communities of human beings of which there is any record, these few self-same feelings of man's innermost nature have become plainly, unmistakably, evident. They appear to be inborn fundamentals of the human soul. As far as they go, they may be safely and confidently accepted as indications of man's purpose here on earth: the preservation of life, the continuation of life, an aspiration in one's own development toward what is admirable and right, and an equally great aspiration to inculcate and develop in one's children the essence of what is best in oneself. In the face of any such conclusion, a question naturally arises, which a cynical and selfish mind is not slow to make the most of. "If this is the palpable intention and design of an all-wise Creator, how does it happen that so many human beings fail to carry out the purpose? How does it happen that so many are relatively deficient, or totally unconscious of the feelings themselves? If the general aim and aspiration is toward constant betterment and an ideal of perfection, why, after all these centuries of endeavor, haven't we arrived somewhere near the goal? Why do we find among the individuals of to-day in our country less aspirations toward what is fine and right and honorable than were felt a hundred years ago? Why, when these feelings reached so high a standard in the classic days of Greece, did they decline and shrivel and give way to barbarism? Why did the same thing happen in Rome? If the divine intention is toward progress and betterment and an ideal of right, why has the intention failed so miserably and repeatedly to be carried out? Why haven't I just as much reason to assume that the divine intention, if there be any, is the gradual corruption, decay and disintegration of the human being? Were the motives and behavior of the average man ever more corrupt, immoral and baser than they are to-day--all over the world? If we consider the results, where is the evidence of a constant betterment in man's spiritual nature? My observations and judgment tell me there are no grounds for any such assumption and there probably never was any such divine intention." The answer to such objections is fairly simple: "You are attempting to pass judgment, by means of the reasoning processes of the intellect, on questions which man's intellect is incapable of understanding. As we found to be the case when considering the affections, the result of such an endeavor is a misconception and distortion. "Although you are well aware that neither reason nor science can offer the faintest glimmer of an explanation as to how, or why, the first essence of life came into existence, or the first elemental matter, or as to what is the ultimate intention or end of a single thing in this world, or any other, yet you have the presumption to criticize the means and methods being employed for the attainment of those ends by an all-wise Creator, who presumably did know, and does know, what they are. "Underlying your questions and comments is a complete misunderstanding. In considering man's purpose in life, I had no thought of determining God's purpose in creating man, or in creating life, or in creating the world in which the life of man is to be found. That surpasses my understanding. That there is an all-wise design and purpose of some sort, behind and above it all, I have no doubt. This conviction comes principally from a feeling of my innermost nature, which has been found among mankind, in all ages--faith. It is confirmed and strengthened by the evidence of my perceptions and intellect--the beauty and wonder and fitness in all the processes of creation. "But even in the simplest facts of nature all about us, there are countless principles at work whose intention cannot be penetrated by human reason. Why were wolves permitted and urged by their instincts to devour innocent lambs? Why were the germs of disease and corruption created with the same bewildering perfection of design and the same mysterious, vital force as the good and beautiful creatures which they infest? Why were exquisite flowers and fruit-bearing trees allowed to be overcome by foul fungus and poisonous weeds? "If our reason is unable to discern the underlying intention in such simple, every-day occurrences as these, by what right does it pretend to pass judgment on the great complexities and developments of human civilization?" What good is accomplished by the rise and fall of an empire? Or by the rise and fall of a human individual? What all-wise intention is fulfilled in the deterioration and decay of any thing which has once seemed admirable and worthy? The human intellect cannot tell. As long as the intellect cannot grasp the beginning of creation, or the end, the original cause of man's existence, or the final result--how can it presume to criticize and doubt, without getting out of its element and beyond its depth? God's purpose for man, from the point-of-view of God, is an entirely different thing from an individual's purpose in life, from man's point-of-view. As this difference is something which appears to give rise to a certain amount of confusion in some people's minds, it is worth clearing up by a simple illustration. Suppose a commanding general, in the midst of a campaign, gives orders for a brigade to occupy a certain ridge and defend it at all costs? Suppose these orders are carried out and, after a heroic defence lasting several days, the entire brigade is wiped out by the enemy? In such a case, when an order comes, what is, and ought to be, the purpose of each individual soldier composing the brigade? To obey orders, do his duty as well and bravely as he can, and hope for the best--which may be victory, glory and promotion. What, now, was the purpose of the general, in issuing the orders? Was it to enable those individual soldiers to win victory and gain promotion? Quite the contrary. His purpose was to delay the enemy advance at that point for forty-eight hours, for reasons of high strategy. What was the purpose of God in designing mankind in such a way that millions of fine individuals should go forth to maim and exterminate each other, to the accompaniment of untold suffering and misery? Because the private does not know the purpose of the general; and because neither the private, nor the general, knows the purpose of God, is that a reason to conclude, or imagine, that there is no purpose? Is that a reason to conclude, or imagine, that the private cannot have and know a purpose of his own--a fine and worthy purpose of which his conscience approves? Does not that same observation apply to the general and to all other individuals, high or low? Because certain individuals are born blind or deaf, does that imply that mankind was not designed to see or hear? Because certain individuals, through the effects of disease or abuse, lose their sight, does that disprove a purpose for the eye? Because certain communities, or certain civilizations, decline and decay, through corruption, does that prove anything with regard to the intention and design of the Creator--except that such happenings are apparently a part of the mysterious plan? It may be that in that plan the soul life of a single individual has more lasting significance than the rise and fall of an empire. Such a conception is apt to strike a matter-of-fact intellect as the height of absurdity. But even in the material world, when it was first suggested that the earth was round, that conception also struck the matter-of-fact intellect as the height of absurdity. So did the idea of Columbus--that he might set sail from Spain, going West, and arrive back at Spain, coming from the East. Nearly all the great discoveries and conceptions of genius have struck the matter-of-fact intellect as the height of absurdity. They dealt with an unknown principle which was different from accepted notions. But the meaning of a human soul in the eternal plan, or of a certain phase of civilization in the unknown plan, are also unknown principles and the opinions of the intellect concerning them are purely guess-work. If, however, we feel inclined to use our imaginations, there is a line of thought which might seem to have a remote bearing on this part of the puzzle. In the material world, and the intellectual world, and the esthetic world of art and beauty, we may form a matter-of-fact opinion concerning things of which we do know something. We can see the effects of certain occurrences and judge of their relative importance, from man's point-of-view. Which was more significant and important for the good of civilization--that countless millions of men and women, for countless generations, in Mexico and in Persia, talked and thought and exchanged ideas--or that one single individual, named William Shakespeare, had some ideas which it occurred to him to put on paper? The brain effort of a single individual more significant for future humanity than the rise and fall of an empire! That kind of conception--dealing with something we know about--does not strike the matter-of-fact intellect as the height of absurdity. Was a single painting, the Mona Lisa, of a single individual, Leonardo da Vinci, less important than the millions of paintings made during countless generations throughout the entire empire of China? Do we measure the achievements of a Napoleon, an Alexander, a Washington, by the manner of their decline and death? It seems simple enough to us that one short life may have more meaning for the rest of humanity in this world, than millions of other lives. We can see and understand and measure the effects of such occurrences as these, with the intellect. But in regard to man's inner feelings, the soul life, because the achievement may not be visible--because its record is not written on paper--because its true significance is entirely shrouded in the mysterious intention of creation, how can the intellect know that the conscientious effort of one short life on earth, however humble, may not have a bigger meaning and a more lasting value in the divine scheme than the accomplishments--material, intellectual, artistic--of millions? The spiritual side appears undoubtedly to be the highest and finest part of man's nature--why then is it not possible that the spiritual struggle of each and every single soul, however inconspicuous in a worldly way, may be the thing that counts most in the everlasting scheme? This is a question, we repeat, which all the science of all the wise men of all the generations is completely incapable of deciding. No amount of reasoning can disprove it, any more than it can prove it. That is the special point I have been trying to make clear. Because the cold processes of the intellect are inclined to dismiss as absurd all kinds of beliefs and conceptions which they cannot verify, they need not be abandoned on that account. VI SCIENCE AND THE INTELLECT No amount of reasoning can alter the fact that certain spontaneous and fundamental feelings of man's inner nature inspire him to conscientious effort and, as they presumably owe their origin to an all-wise Creator, they may be safely relied on to indicate his part and responsibility in the mysterious scheme. It seems to me that nothing in the whole problem of life is more important than a thorough realization of this undoubted truth--that the big fundamental feelings of man's better nature are absolutely independent and apart from the working of his intellect, or any calculation of self-interest, conscious or implied, just as they are independent of his material appetites and instincts. A clear understanding of this truth will answer many of the questions which are so apt to confuse the reason and trouble the peace of mind of the average much instructed person. If a scientific doubter asks us how we can be sure of this, we can answer without hesitation that the evidence of our own inner feelings is unmistakable proof of it. The only proof of a feeling is the feeling itself. We have it--we are conscious of it--it is, as far as we are concerned, and it is futile for any outsider to deny it. If any one is so constituted that he cannot get the force of this, we may make the understanding of it easier by turning his attention to the feelings of man's esthetic nature, which operate in a somewhat similar way. We have already had occasion to refer to them, but we may be permitted to do so again, with added emphasis. They are an illustration and a confirmation of the vitally important principle which we have just been stating. If a setting sun, or a harmony, or musical notes, appeal to my sense of beauty and give rise to a vague but delicious emotion of my inner nature, all the arguments of all the intellects on earth are powerless to alter the essence and meaning of that feeling, so far as my nature is concerned. To me that feeling of beauty is a fact, and it would remain just as much a fact, even if no other person in the world shared it with me; and every other person in the world undertook to deny its existence. The only proof I have of it, the only proof I need for it, is that I feel it. Now when the intellect takes upon itself to meddle with such things, a learned professor may explain that a certain musical note is composed of vibrations--so many thousand per second--which are communicated to particles of matter in suspension in the air and carried by them to the tympanum of the ear, which acts thus-and-so upon the various components of the hearing apparatus, and finally arrives through a system of ganglia to a certain nerve centre, located somewhere in a brain cell, or the spinal column. He may use a great many other big words and display various kinds of scientific devices for measuring sound waves and calculating vibrations, but when he has finished, all his science will not enable him to compose a touching melody, or feel the beauty and inspiration of it. A little child, or a negro mammy, with a soul for music, will feel and give out something, whose very essence has nothing to do with the intellect and which the most formidable intellect is powerless to grasp. The same thing is true of painting and poetry and sculpture. The feelings which inspire them and the feelings which they arouse in receptive souls are totally independent of the intellect. The reason may argue that as one leg of the Venus de Milo is found by measurement to be considerably shorter than the other, it is absurd to call that a beautiful figure of a woman--or that it should excite as much admiration as a scientifically constructed statue in which all the proportions would be in accord with carefully tabulated statistics. As a photograph of a young and healthy girl is more accurate and more pleasing in subject than a painting of an old woman, what reason is there for it to arouse less esthetic feeling than an immortal portrait by Rembrandt? If a description of a small water course, drawn up by a surveyor and a lawyer, is exact and comprehensive, why should it not appeal to the imagination and sense of beauty more satisfactorily than a poem by Tennyson, entitled "The Brook?" The obvious answer is that in all such questions the intellect is out of its element, trying to lay hands on something which has no tangible substance. If this point-of-view is not enough to give your intellect food for thought and suggest its very decided limitations in the life of man, you may turn its light upon the simplest and most material sensations and feelings which belong to the animal nature and are common to all mankind. What reason is there for my brother to dote on fried onions, while I cannot endure them? Why does my uncle like pig's feet and eels and snails, while my wife is made almost ill at the sight of them? Your intellect may tell you that you ought to like the taste of castor oil, because it is good for you; but all the intellect in the world cannot make you like the taste of castor oil. The taste, the savor, the feel of things--whether it be in the material world, or the esthetic world, or the spiritual world--is a part of life in which the intellect is forever condemned to remain an outsider. It may be very much interested in what is going on, it may reason with the causes and effects and characteristics of what it sees; it may make suggestions to the will-power and argue against the impulses which are prompted by the feelings; but it cannot prevent the feelings, or the impulses, from being there and having their say. The life and say of the feelings mean much to the welfare of each individual. Let us suppose that the circumstances of my life were such that I could truthfully express myself as follows: "I _feel_ well and strong; I _feel_ that I love my wife devotedly and my wife returns that love; I _feel_ immense affection for my children; I _feel_ I would make any and every sacrifice to protect them and my wife from harm; I _feel_ very hopeful about the future, both for my family and myself; I _feel_ I have done my best, in accordance with my ability; I have a feeling of loyalty to my friends and a feeling of honor in my dealings with my fellow men; I _feel_ content with my lot, in particular, and the way of the world, in general; and whether my life was evolved from a monkey and a protoplasm, or came into being as a divine and perfect conception, I _feel_ an abiding faith in an all-wise but mysterious purpose for everything." There are no material considerations, or calculations of self-interest, or reasoning processes, in this kind of summary. It is made up exclusively of fundamental and spontaneous feelings which are in existence, to a greater or less extent, among all sorts and manners of individuals, in any known stage of civilization. A peasant living in a hut, in a vineyard in Sicily, is just as capable of having them, as a millionaire living in a city palace, or a scientist presiding over an academy of learning. A native Patagonian, or a Swede, or a Chinaman, may be just as susceptible to them as a French artist, or an American steel king. As they come from the inner nature, and as all men have an inner nature, it is possible for them to be experienced by all men. There are, of course, countless other beautiful and inspired feelings that may come to life in the inner nature of an individual, but the few simple ones which we have suggested are sufficient for an illustration. Now let us imagine, for a moment, another illustration. Let us imagine that a modern intellect, scientifically trained and enlightened, undertook to investigate, analyze, dissect, in a methodical and accurate way, the facts which gave rise to my feelings, or are implied by them, in an effort to determine the reason and reasonableness of such interesting phenomena. I _feel_ well and strong. "But," says he, "that does not necessarily prove that you are well or strong. It may be merely an assumption founded on ignorance of scientific facts." The proper way to determine how well and strong I am is to have my health and strength tested and rated in an expert way. According to the report of such an expert, my state of health is only 63 per cent normal and my strength is less than 50 per cent of standard for my weight and age. Strictly speaking, I am neither well _nor_ strong, and my feeling in that respect may be dismissed as unwarranted by the facts and consequently unreasonable. "I _feel_ that I love my wife devotedly and that my wife returns that love." "But," says the intellect, "those are only words. As a matter of fact, how severe and accurate a test have either of those devotions been submitted to? Have you ever been thrown into contact, alone and undisturbed, with a woman who is more beautiful and more appealing than your wife--who yearns for you and invites you with abandoned intensity? Has your wife's devotion been subjected to a corresponding test? Until that has been done, it is only reasonable to assume that there may be a good deal of exaggeration and self-delusion in the conclusions which you have arrived at. As there are certain prejudices and difficulties in the way of having these tests made, and as neither you nor your wife appear willing for the other to try them, any satisfactory estimate of your reciprocal devotions must remain in abeyance. Our statistics show, however, that in 87 per cent. of the cases where a mutual and unalterable devotion is supposed to exist, the determining factor on one side or the other, is the accidental absence of a sufficiently appealing opportunity. The evidence of the divorce courts offers a valuable source of information on this phase of the subject. Purely as a matter of averages, the conjecture may be hazarded that your assumption in this regard, as in the other, may be founded on a misconception." In the same way, the intellect may introduce reasons and deductions in criticism of my hopes for my children, and the fallacies which may have crept into my theories of loyalty and honor and aspiration. Finally, he might say: "Permit me to observe that you made a curious and somewhat amazing statement, just now, in reference to faith and an all-wise purpose. Is it possible that you are still under the influence of an out-grown mediaeval superstition? The only reasonable assumption with regard to man's place in the universe has been quite clearly and scientifically established by the modern theory of evolution. It appears from that, that you and I are descended from an ape, which in turn is a second-cousin-once-removed, so to speak, of the bat, the spider, and the shark. We are all animals together, slowly passing through different phases of evolution, and man owes his existence entirely to the accidental results of natural selection and survival of the fittest. Man's tribe happens to be more numerous than that of the elephant, or the whale, which are larger animals; but less numerous than that of the ant, which is almost his equal in intelligence and decidedly more industrious, though it is so much smaller than man. Millions of ants come into existence and go out of existence, every day, without making any appreciable difference in the gradual processes of evolution. The same thing may be said of man--or bats and whales. Surely it is high time that a well-educated person of the twentieth century should consider such things from a reasonable, scientific point-of-view." When he has finished with this, if I am still in a receptive mood, he may condescend to explain to me that self-interest and enlightened reason supply the true and underlying motives for all conduct; and that this is the only conception of life which is susceptible of intelligent explanation. As a matter of fact, although this illustration is entirely fanciful, I was given a book to read, the other day, a modern book on morals, in which this was the gist of the argument throughout--enlightened self-interest, or selfishness, as the only sound and sufficient motive for everything we do. The friend who gave it to me had accepted it as scientific and authoritative and was thoroughly in accord with its conclusions. I may add that this particular "friend," as far as I have been able to observe, is the quintessence of selfishness. My purpose, in imagining these illustrations, was to render obvious and palpable the limitations of the intellect, when it attempts to translate feelings into terms of reason, or when it attempts to substitute scientific calculations for spontaneous emotions. The essence of one is feeling; the essence of the other is logic; and the idea of replacing the former by the latter is about as incongruous as an attempt to paint the perfume of a violet with an adding machine. In the heart and soul and even in the esthetic nature of every individual is that mysterious element, which goes back to the beginning of creation. In many of the finest and most important acts of man, it may supply either the determining cause, or the principal effect. It cannot be explained in terms of material self-interest, or enlightened reason, because its essence is neither material nor reasonable. It has in it a touch of the ideal and divine, which was implanted in man, or has evolved in man, in accordance with the all-wise intention. When we have succeeded in arriving at a clear realization of this fundamental truth, and imagine we have put man's intellect back in the place where it properly belongs, we must pause a moment to make equally clear that we must not under-estimate the wonder and importance of that same intellect, in the life of every individual and the life of mankind in general. In this age of science, the attention and interest of the universe have been largely focussed on the marvellous achievements of the human intellect. Discoveries, inventions, advanced methods and great strides of progress in countless directions are the boast and pride of modern times. There is no disputing this, nor is there any doubt but that a great wave of scientific accomplishment, which was somewhat slow in developing, has, within the last two generations, suddenly assumed the most stupendous and bewildering proportions. The railroad and the automobile; the telephone and electric light; the airplane, phonograph, moving picture; anti-septic surgery and the germ theory of disease; the dreadnought, the submarine and wireless telegraphy;--these are but a few striking examples of the hundreds and thousands of achievements which the intellect has been able to accomplish in a comparatively short space of time. No wonder that we hear and read on all sides such constant and confident reference to the "advancement of science," the "progress of humanity," and the bewildering resourcefulness of man's brain. All those achievements are objective and impersonal; they concern the comforts and welfare, of each and every one of us, to a greater or less extent, but in a purely material and general way. When we turn to the personal life of the individual and consider his acts and motives, subjectively, we find that the rôle played by the intellect is almost equally important. As we have seen in our previous discussions, the intellect has a say in nearly everything we do or think of doing. It enquires into the cause, and considers the effect, and passes judgment, for or against, in accordance with the dictates of its reason. If a certain instinct within us, which may be purely animal, has a need for food or water, the intellect recognizes and approves the need; but if the food and water set before us is poisonous or unfit, it is the intellect which determines that and overrules the instinct. If another instinct, or impulse, prompts us to set fire to a house, or jump out of a window, the intellect decides that such an act would be unreasonable and forbids us to do so. It frequently happens that two or more of our instincts, inclinations, desires, are opposed to each other. I want to eat my apple now; I want to keep it to eat at the ball-game; and I want to trade it for Tim's lignum-vitæ top. In such a case, it is the intellect which considers the advantages and disadvantages of each and announces its decision. If it is a healthy intellect, in good control, it will enforce its decision, too; but even if it isn't, and an unruly impulse proves too strong to be denied, that won't prevent the intellect from pointing out the mistake that is being made and keeping it in memory for future reference. It is not necessary to go over all this ground again. We have already examined it with sufficient care in connection with the first answer which we gave to the up-to-date youth who wanted to know why he shouldn't follow his every inclination. The various examples which we cited to illustrate the significance of reason and experience are enough to establish the point we are now making. As far as the material things of this world are concerned, and the material needs of the individual, the intellect is generally and properly acknowledged as the sovereign master. The rule of reason in private life; and the rule of science in civilization have become more and more the accepted standards of the world in which we live. If an instinct or a desire is unreasonable, it should not be allowed to prevail; if a tradition or a convention of the past is unscientific, it should be discarded and ridiculed as something out-of-date. That is the conclusion which advanced intellects have reached through scientific methods of enlightenment; it is the message they have been communicating, the example which they have been setting, until the wide-spread results are becoming increasingly apparent among all classes and in nearly all places, where modern science and civilization have penetrated. It ought not to be very difficult for any one to recognize and understand why the methods of science and the rule of reason occupy such a dominant place in public estimation as they undoubtedly do to-day. The only natural question is why they have not always, in by-gone generations, occupied just as high a place. The answer to this question is very simple, though some people's attention may not have been called to it. The scientific method of investigation, as we know it to-day, is a comparatively recent product of the human intellect. There was no science of any such kind when Homer wrote the Iliad, or when the Christian religion was founded, or when Leonardo da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa and Shakespeare wrote his masterpieces. Even at the time our great American republic was put into operation, modern science was still in its swaddling clothes. It is only in the last two generations that it may be said to have reached its true form and begun turning out in rapid succession the multitude of discoveries and inventions which have had such an immense effect in the daily life of civilization. It also takes a certain amount of time for great changes to permeate, and become absorbed by masses of people, so that it should not seem strange if many of the indirect results have only begun to be noticeable within the past few years. And now if we look about and pause to reflect on these triumphs of modern science, as they affect the life and ideas and feelings of the average individual, a very curious and somewhat startling question is liable to suggest itself. Is it possible that right here may be the main and underlying cause of the so-called "demoralization" of the present generation? Is it possible that the "impossible notions" and the equally "impossible conduct" of the up-to-date young people which grandmother finds so shocking are traceable to this source? Is it possible that faith, honor, loyalty and other ideals and aspirations of man's better nature, are being neglected and corrupted by the methods of modern science and the rule of reason? The very idea of such a possibility, when it first dawned upon me, seemed like such a palpable absurdity that I put it aside, yet as I followed the other trains of thought which have been under discussion, this idea kept recurring with greater and greater persistency. If it happened to be true, the lesson to be derived from it might prove so important and helpful to struggling humanity, that it appears to me, now, entitled to careful consideration. Let us begin with a general commentary and ask ourselves--How comes it, while scientific methods have achieved such amazing results in the material world, they have not succeeded equally well in improving the inner nature of man? How comes it that science, with all its investigations and accurately reasoned conclusions, cannot show the individuals of the present day how to make better paintings than Raphael or Titian? Or better statues than Michael Angelo? Or better music than Chopin or Wagner? Or better literature than Moliere or Shakespeare? It can show him how to make a hundred times better ship, or factory, or surgical operation; but when it comes to this other kind of thing, it appears to have made no improvement at all. Those artists we have named and hundreds of others in past centuries, who made immortal masterpieces, had no intellects enlightened by modern science, nor any of the benefits of modern education and progress. If we may judge at all by results (which is the modern, enlightened way), the only effect of science in teaching people how to get an inspiration and find a beautiful expression for it, has been a detriment rather than a help. If you take a boy to-day, who has a natural bent for poetry, or painting, how much will you help him by filling his mind with scientific methods and theories, rules and exceptions, deductions and compilations, of the various elements which should logically determine the value of the finished product? By giving his intellect a thorough course in scientific training, which may occupy his time and absorb his energy for many years, is it not possible that you will turn out in the end a plodding hack, instead of the inspired artist who might have been? Did anybody ever feel the poetic beauty of a rose with greater intensity for having examined its petals through a microscope, and learned to classify it scientifically, both as to species and variety? Did anybody ever learn by scientific rules of grammar and classified tables of words, to speak a foreign language with the ease and charm of a child, who picks it up from a stupid governess in one-tenth the time? The childlike, natural way to learn a language is to absorb it into the system, almost without effort, until it becomes a part of second nature--in much the same way that we absorb tunes. Without the slightest conscious effort, we are absorbing and retaining countless bars of music, all through our lives--yet can anybody imagine an enlightened intellect, undertaking to analyze and classify with scientific method the use of sharps and flats in different kinds of bars, and attempting to learn them in that form? Homer's Iliad and Virgil's �neid are generally regarded as great masterpieces of literature. They are full of poetic feeling, imagination, charm and inspiring sentiments. They are still being read by thousands of boys and girls, every year, but they are being read to the accompaniment of grammars, lexicons, and the commentary of learned professors, upon roots, derivatives and obsolete usages. A vast amount of time and energy is devoted to this undertaking, which is usually justified on the ground that it affords excellent training for the intellect. But how about the feelings of admiration and enthusiasm which works of such great beauty were intended to inspire? Are they exercised to the same extent? Or is the tendency rather to trammel and divert them by so much laborious and irrelevant interference? When we turn to the more personal feelings of the individual, in his intimate relations with other beings, is not the situation much the same? Has scientific thought discovered, or devised, any means of increasing the warmth and tenderness of the human heart? Has the rule of reason made husbands and wives any more devoted to each other, or to their friends? It has succeeded in providing a great many people with a telephone and an automobile, but has it succeeded equally well in providing them with generous feelings of self-denial and consideration for others? Or has its tendency, on the contrary, been rather to interfere with the spontaneous development of such feelings, by attempting to replace them by an analysis of human motives in which calculations of self-interest are made the prime factor? But it is only when we come to the spiritual feelings that the really radical effects of science upon man's nature are encountered. And the method of these changes is so eminently "reasonable," as to be almost self-explanatory. First is the question of religion, which in all countries and at all times has been such an important influence in the conduct of mankind. For the time being, let us be content to confine our attention to our own country and our own Christian religion, and ask ourselves frankly what conclusions the modern methods of scientific investigation and the modern rule of reason might be expected to arrive at in regard to that? What about all the miracles so devoutly recorded in the Bible? Through investigation and reason, science to-day considers itself in a position to pronounce them totally unscientific; and the rule of reason concludes that they were presumably founded on the imagination, credulity and ignorance which prevailed in an unenlightened period. What about the angels with the flaming swords, and the voices from on high, the golden thrones of heaven, the raging fires of hell, and the childlike account of the world's creation? With the same complacent assurance, modern science and reason are pleased to brush them aside as concoctions of ignorance and credulity. And so with countless other ideas set down in this same holy book--the motives of jealousy and vanity attributed to the all-wise Ruler--His insistence upon formalities in the manner of worship and baptism and christening--His threats concerning other alleged gods and unbelievers, who dare to dispute His sovereignty. All such ideas, when subjected to the acid test of scientifically enlightened reason, are shown in the colors of absurdity and ridicule. The general conclusion arrived at by this kind of investigation is considered by scientific minds entirely logical and inevitable. As this so-called holy book is found to contain so many errors, inaccuracies, false statements and absurdities, the notion, or claim, of its being a "revelation," communicated, or inspired, from a supernatural source, is unreasonable and untenable. An all-wise Creator could not be ignorant, or inaccurate. This particular book, like many other similar and rival ones to be found in other parts of the world, may be scientifically assumed to be no more than a typical and very creditable product of the unenlightened civilization which gave it birth. This tendency and effect of modern science is so direct and obvious that he who runs may read. How far it has already spread and acted upon the great numbers of people who compose our population is not possible to determine. Nor is it of any great importance. As we observed before, it takes considerable time for great changes of this sort to permeate to and become absorbed by the masses. But the evidence is only too plain, on all sides, that this operation is now in full swing and gaining ground rapidly. Among the up-to-date people of the new generation, the religious beliefs of a very large proportion have become so confused and unsettled by it, that they are no longer quite sure in their own hearts whether they have any at all. If you have any doubts about this matter, or have overlooked it, a very little enquiry among the people you meet every day, of all classes and kinds, will suffice to bring it home to you. Of course, there are still in every community a considerable number of people who cling bravely to the traditions of the past, who deplore and combat with indignation the up-to-date and demoralizing tendencies; who still believe in their religion as firmly as ever, who still regard the Bible as a divine revelation; and who still display the same fervid attachment to the various forms and ceremonies of their particular church. There are also probably a few who, for private reasons, although they have really ceased to believe, are still to be found sitting in church pews. But when we consider that modern scientific methods are of comparatively recent origin, the wonder should be, not that so many people have resisted their tendencies in the matter of religion and still cling to their beliefs, but that such great numbers have been affected by them in so short a time. It seems only too plain and palpable that this is the inevitable tendency of modern science, when brought to bear upon traditional doctrines. It eats them away, bit by bit, and step by step, until there is nothing left but a crumbling residue. But this is only one side of it--the negative side--which applies to what science has been taking down. There is also a positive side, which applies to what science has undertaken to set up in its place. As we have had occasion to note, the fundamental feelings of faith and aspiration are not dependent upon any particular form of religion. Faith has been found to subsist and flourish under various creeds and all manners of worship, in all stages of civilization. All that it wants is something to shelter and sustain and encourage it, in its struggles against the baser instincts. Any religion which does this, by appealing to the imagination and inspiring whole-souled belief, might be considered satisfactory in any given community. The next question, therefore, which we are entitled to ask ourselves is this: After science has succeeded in eating into and breaking down the particular temple in which our fundamental faith had found a refuge, what fitting substitute has it been able to discover or devise, in order to meet this universal requirement? The nearest approach to a scientific answer appears to be the theory of evolution, which informs man that, instead of being a special and majestic creation of an all-wise Almighty, as he had so foolishly and ignorantly imagined, he can consider himself a remote and more or less accidental, development of a protoplasm; and more immediately, the lineal descendant of the ape, to whom he still bears a close resemblance, in a scientific way. As there is nothing about an ape, or a protoplasm to be accepted as a haven of refuge, science points to another conclusion. (And in quoting science, here or elsewhere, let it be borne in mind that I make no claim of speaking as a scientific expert, but am merely attempting to give the general gist and point-of-view as it affects the average intelligence. In such a general way, this, then, is what science says:) "If you must worship something, instead of taking a figment of the imagination, why not pick out something real and established, about whose insistence there can be no doubt--the most logical and admirable thing on earth--your own self and your scientifically enlightened intellect? If you need a creed of some sort, to take the place of the antiquated one which science has broken down, why not accept a pleasing and simple creed which is entirely logical? Let your conduct be governed at all times by your own self-interest and the rule of reason. For everything that happens in this world, there must be a cause; and for every act of a living thing, there must be a motive, either conscious or unconscious. These are universal facts which have been adequately established by scientific research. In the case of an individual man, the only logical and sufficient motive which can be arrived at in a scientific way, to explain his conduct, under any and all circumstances, is the principle of self-interest, which he shares, with all other animals. This may be conscious or unconscious, more or less enlightened, or more or less deluded by ignorance and instinct; but that in no way affects the application of the principle." This is the only practical substitute which science has to offer for the religious structures which it has been slowly, but surely, destroying. But as this also is no haven of refuge for the vague feelings of faith and aspiration, where are they to go? In the process of demolition, they appear to have been left groping about, more dead than alive, under the ruins. With an upheaval of this kind, spreading in the souls of great numbers of people, and their fundamental faith groping in confusion, is there anything strange in the fact that we hear and see constant references to "the spirit of unrest," which has become so prevalent among all classes at the present time? In the relations of capital and labor, in the political world and the business world; in the divorce courts and domestic life, the deportment of women and the bringing up of children; in various other forms and directions, both public and private, no less than in church circles--there has been rapidly accumulating evidence of a mysterious influence of some sort, with a tendency to confuse and unsettle the standards and conduct of mankind. This state of affairs is not confined to our own country. It appears to be equally evident in England, if we may believe the testimony of those who pretend to know. In confirmation of this, it may be worth while to give a few quotations from a more or less authoritative and much discussed English book which was published recently. In the concluding chapter of his work, the author refers more particularly to the aristocracy of England, a privileged class of men who in the past have generally been considered a bulwark of traditional and lofty standards. At the present time, the author says: We are a nation without standards, kept in health rather by memories which are fading than by examples which are compelling.... We still march to the dying music of great traditions, but there is no captain of civilization at the head of our ranks. We have indeed almost ceased to be an army marching with confidence towards the enemy, and have become a mob breaking impatiently loose from the discipline and ideals of our past. ... Aristocracy has lost its respect for learning, it has grown careless of manners, it has abandoned faith in its duty, it is conscious of no solemn obligations, but it still remains for the multitude a true aristocracy, and looking up at that aristocracy, for its standards, the multitude has become materialistic, throwing Puritanism to the dogs, and pushing as heartily forward to the trough as any full-fed glutton in the middle or the upper ranks of life. ... There is no example of modesty, restraint, thrift, duty, or culture. Everything is sensual and ostentatious, and shamefacedly sensual and ostentatious. ... It is a grievous thing to corrupt the minds of the simple. The poor have always believed in heartiness and cheerfulness. All their proverbs spring out of a keen sense of virtue. All their games are of a manly character. To materialize this glorious people, to commercialize and mamonize it, to make it think of economics, instead of life, to make it bitter, discontented and tyrannous, this is to strike at the very heart of England. The author of this book has a very clear idea, very forcibly expressed, that the example of the upper classes, the leading citizens in the community, exerts a great influence on the others. That is a universal principle which applies, in greater or less degree, to all other countries, including America. It furnishes a simple explanation of how comparatively stupid people, who do very little thinking of any kind, may be found putting into effect motives and points-of-view which owe their origin to the enlightened reason of a few superior intellects. Also it may be observed that while the author appears to recognize and affirm with conviction a general demoralization of standards among the aristocracy, he does not attempt to suggest any visible cause for it. It may be gathered, in a way, that he takes for granted that, somehow, it is a consequence of the World War. This notion, as we have seen, is so apt to be fallen back on as a convenient excuse for anything and everything that is now taking place. But to the best of my knowledge and belief, confirmed by all manner of testimony and information, the tendencies in England which the author refers to, no less than the similar tendencies in America, were plainly in evidence and rapidly gathering momentum before the beginning of war. For tendencies which appear to be world-wide, it is fair to assume that there must be some cause, or causes, which are world-wide also. The spread of modern science complies with that. Our English author refers to the declining influence and lack of vitality of the English church, without hazarding an opinion as to the cause. The idea which we have gotten hold of affords a clue to that part of it, at least. If it is also a clue to all the rest, as I suggest it may be, then, by following its lead in different directions, we ought to unearth lucid explanations for the various phenomena which are disturbing and perplexing so many people. Let us go on a little further and see just what we do find. Let us imagine, for a moment, that I am a workman, a mechanic, of the average intelligence to be found among the great run of so-called common people. I have heard enough about modern science to be lost in wonder of it and I received a good modern education at the high school. I gave up going to church because it didn't appeal to me--a lot of the Bible preaching seemed out-of-date, unreasonable and unpractical. I've heard a little about this theory of evolution--man descended from an ape--and as modern science is said to have proved it, I guess it must be so. The main thing that concerns me is that I'm here, on the job, with a living to make. There are a lot of other men around me, about the same as I am. We're reasonable and practical and believe in getting all we can, honestly. We think we're about as good as anybody else and we believe in the rule of the majority. When I look about at the people born luckier than I am, with more of the world's goods, I can't see that they're any different from the rest of us. They're trying to get all they can, too, only they've managed to get a blame sight more than the rest of us. Take my boss, for instance. Is there any reason for him to be living in a big house with eight servants, and riding around in a limousine car, when all I can afford is a flivver? Does he work any harder than I do? Is he any better man? or any smarter? I haven't seen any proof of it. But just because he happened to have a rich father before him, he's allowed to get the lion's share of all we make. Is that reasonable? We all want the good things of life, as much as he does, and if we're in the majority, why shouldn't we have our share? He didn't make the capital that's in this business, and he didn't have anything to do with making his rich father; and the money his father made, when you come down to it, was squeezed from men like us. If the world is supposed to be run by reason, and reason says the majority ought to rule, why shouldn't each one of us have an equal share with him? I'm thinking of myself, of course, the same as everybody else--first, last and all the time--and in that way I'd be a lot better off, but that doesn't prevent what I want from being reasonable. Without saying it, in so many words, is it not plain that I am merely following in a way that an ordinary mind might understand, the creed which science has recommended as the underlying motive for all conduct--self-interest and the rule of reason. Doubtless a very highly developed scientific intellect might declare that my reason is not sufficiently enlightened; but it has received a high school education, and looked about at what other people are doing, and formed the scientific habit of sticking to the facts. Isn't that about as much as Enlightened Reason could expect of me? * * * * * Now if you happen to be another type of workman, less affected by the modern scientific conclusions concerning life, you might reply as follows: "I feel very contented and humbly grateful to the Lord for all the benefits he has given us. I am well and strong, I have a better home, and better wages, and squarer treatment than workmen ever received in any country in the world. I can make enough to provide modestly and comfortably for my wife and children, which after all is the main thing for my happiness. It is not for me to pass judgment on the life of our employer, or his inheritance, or the life of his father before him, or the great scheme of human existence which is behind and beyond it all. It is enough for me to accept such things, as the wish of an all-wise Creator." Of these two opposing points of view, which appears to be the one that has been spreading and gaining in the world to-day--in America and England, Italy, France, Spain and other countries? Which one is dependent upon the fundamental feelings of faith and aspiration, which have always found shelter in a religion of some sort--and which one may be traced, almost directly, to a crude interpretation of the progress and dictates of modern science? And let it be noted that in this field, also, before the world war began, this movement of self-interest and reason was already in evidence and well on its way. If we examine the Labor Union and the Closed Shop, and Strikes and Socialism and Bolshevism, and all those other kindred isms, we can see, readily enough, that the under side of them all is tarred with the same brush--self-interest, selfishness, greed, individual and collective, and reason, argument, excuse, more or less distorted and perverted, but more or less enlightened by the principles of modern Science, as they appear to the average intellect. The fundamental and innate spiritual feelings of man's better nature have been so covered over by the energy of this brush that, for the most part, they are only rarely and intermittently discernible. Suppose we now follow our clue in another direction--into the home and family and private life of the average up-to-date woman. And it is permitted us to imagine, if we choose, that I am such a woman, while you are my well-meaning, but rather out-of-date, husband. I have received my education at a typical school of the present day, organized on thoroughly modern and scientific principles. In my studies and my general instruction, I have learned to consider everything from a strictly rational point-of-view--hygiene, psychology, economics, the equal rights of the individual, the expediency of the laws, the need of judges to interpret them and of police to enforce them--and a variety of other school subjects which are regarded as an excellent training for the intellect. Among other things which I learned very quickly, both outside and inside of school, is that most pompous and impressive preachers don't practise what they preach. It's so unpractical and unreasonable that it appears to be a sort of pretence and convention for the benefit of the young and gullible. I find it more sensible to be guided by what other intelligent people around you are actually doing and learn in that way what they really think. This is the era of woman's emancipation and the most intellectual and leading women of to-day believe that woman is the equal of man; and has as much right as he to the privileges and freedom of action, in every direction, which he was able so long and so unfairly to reserve for himself. As other women think that way about it and it's much more satisfactory to me, I thoroughly agree with them. Marriage is an agreement between equals, a partnership for mutual convenience and happiness, and exactly the same obligations apply to one, as the other. If men find pleasure in smoking and drinking and gambling and flirting with pretty women, why shouldn't I smoke and drink and gamble and flirt with attractive men? If other women paint their faces, or dye their hair, or wear short skirts to show their silk stockings, or low-necked and low-backed gowns, to make themselves more attractive, why shouldn't I? In regard to my children, I love them, of course, and I believe in bringing them up in accordance with modern, enlightened ideas. First of all, I want their love and affection--the pleasure of having them run to me and throw their arms about me, when I come into the room. If I scold them and spank them and keep interfering with their natural instincts, I might end up by making them afraid of me--as they are of their father. I don't want that. I much prefer to pet them and spoil them and find excuses for them. I have so many interests and engagements of my own to attend to,--social, civic, musical, charitable--that I haven't much time or nerves left, to devote to my children. An up-to-date emancipated woman could hardly be expected to subject herself to that kind of hum-drum strain, in any case. My nervous system is very highly organized and their restless activity makes me irritable. I couldn't stand very much of it--even if I didn't have my own affairs to occupy most of my time. I always try to make it a point, however, to see them and kiss them and have them throw their arms about me, before going to bed. I get the best nurse I can for them--the present one is a Swede, the last one, Irish--but they seem to be such stupid, cranky things! However, one thing I insist upon--they are not to slap the children, and are to let them have their own way, as far as possible. And I make it equally plain to the children that if they have any grievance, they needn't mind about their father--all they have to do is come to me, and throw their arms about my neck, and I will do the best to straighten it out for them. That does a great deal to help me keep their affection. If I get tired of my husband and cease to love him (or find some other man whom I love more), or if my husband neglects and humiliates me and I find him involved in an affair with another woman; or for any other reason which seems sufficient to me; I consider it only proper that I should have the right to go to a divorce court and dissolve the partnership. As it is an arrangement between equals, for mutual convenience and happiness, when it ceases to be convenient or agreeable to me, it is perfectly reasonable that I should withdraw. That is to my self-interest guided by reason. Thousands upon thousands of other women are doing it, and no up-to-date enlightened person thinks any the worse of them--so why shouldn't I? You, my well meaning, but out-of-date husband, may be imagined as replying to this briefly as follows: "What has become of all the deep and beautiful feelings of faith and devotion and self-sacrifice, which throughout the ages have given a heavenly significance to the ideal of motherhood and wife-hood? Woman was not made in the same mold as man and such was evidently not the intention of the all-wise Creator. But in man's imagination and in his better nature, the essence of woman's purpose and greatness has appeared to consist in being a sort of guardian angel of the home and family. Her crown was made of purity, chastity, modesty, infinite tenderness and patience and underlying fidelity to her sacred cause. It is to her in this capacity, with such a crown upon her head, that the noblest of men have been willing to bow down, in humbleness and submission, not as to an equal, or a rival in worldly prowess, but as to a superior and more exquisite soul. "That is the birthright of woman, the glory of her creation, yet between your petty motives of self-interest and the up-to-date enlightenment of your intellect, you are trying to argue it off the face of the earth. You have exchanged a spiritual ideal of womanhood for a material mess of pottage." * * * * * There have been plenty of vain and selfish women, in the past, just as there have been profligate women and immoral men; but in the communities of the past, where faith and aspiration were wont to flourish and be sustained and encouraged by religion, such selfishness was not to be avowed or imitated. In the light of finer and more spiritual feelings, it appeared as a deficiency and corruption of character. But in the up-to-date rule of reason, backed by the analysis and conclusions of science, there is no need to conceal it, or excuse it. It is the strong minds, not the weak ones, which set the example; the enlightened, scientific, matter-of-fact intellects, which proclaim the principle and encourage the timid and less advanced to follow in their wake. As regards the training of children, up-to-date considerations of self-interest on the part of the parents, mixed in with instinctive love, as I have suggested by my illustration, would naturally result in giving them an early start on the broad highway of calculating selfishness. All the imposing school houses which dot the length and breadth of our land--public-schools, private-schools, boarding-schools--are constructed and administered in accordance with modern principles. In them no effort is spared to educate and enlighten the youthful intellect. It is trained in scientific information, and scientific methods, and scientific habits of thought. Rewards of one kind or another--diplomas, marks, privileges, prizes--are designed to operate as a stimulant for intellectual endeavor and excellence. Also considerable effort is expended, to care for health and develop the body, in accordance with scientific principles. In the gymnasium and on the athletic field, prizes are given to stimulate excellence in this branch of endeavor. But where, in all these institutions, are scientific professors devoting an equal amount of energy to the care and development of the feelings and sentiments of the spiritual nature? Where are the teachers of modesty and self-denial? Of cheerfulness and sympathy and consideration for others? Of sincerity, honor, fidelity,--conscience, aspiration, and faith in a mysterious, all-wise destiny? Where are the prizes and marks to stimulate endeavor in these? What eloquent and inspiring assurance does this science give to the youthful soul that its delicate feelings are of more importance in the life of man than any excellence of the body, or the intellect? A simple, old-fashioned mother, who loved her children with her whole soul, might go a long way toward supplying this need. With no thought of self-interest, but with a feeling of deepest devotion to them and their welfare, she was usually more than willing, to do all that seemed best for their spiritual growth, with the help of God. In this inspired cause, she had no thought of sparing herself, or them, from self-denial or self-sacrifice. Such an undertaking on the part of motherhood has generally been regarded as a beautiful thing, the most beautiful and sublime on earth--perhaps for the very reason that it calls for so much self-denial and is so completely devoid of selfishness. But an up-to-date mother, reasonably persuaded that she is the equal and rival of her husband in worldly pursuits, could hardly be expected to handicap herself in any such way. In accordance with the principle of self-interest and the rule of reason, she can make a much more convenient and agreeable arrangement. The money which her husband provides can be used to hire nurses and governesses, who will take the children off her hands; and at an early age they can be sent away to a first-class school and so relieve her of all bother and responsibility. After that, comes college and then, of course, the rest is their affair. While they are little, she can kiss them good-night and feel their little arms about her neck and dote on their tender affection; and later, when they come back from school for their vacations, she can make a great fuss about them and let everybody admire the fond and foolish demonstrations of a mother's love. With due regard for the variations and differences of degree which occur in specific cases, does this not represent, both with regard to up-to-date women and the training of up-to-date children, the general underlying tendency which is causing so much comment? It can hardly by any stretch of the imagination, be attributed to the world war, especially as it was already in evidence before the war. But, as we have tried to make plain, it can be traced very simply and almost directly to the influences and effects of the modern scientific movement, and the matter-of-fact habit of mind engendered by it, which accepts as a logical conclusion, the principle of self-interest and the rule of reason. If we continue to follow our clue in other directions, wherever the up-to-date principles, or lack of principle, have been causing comment, disturbing traditions, or appearing as a spirit of unrest, we find them susceptible of the same general observations and the same general explanation. A distinctly modern idea, that the nations of the world, as well as the individuals, should forever remain at peace; and that all differences between them should be settled by arbitration, is a typical product of the modern and scientific intellect. It has been much talked of lately and widely endorsed by logical persons. It is perfectly in accord with the principle of self-interest and the rule of reason. There is no rational justification for the immense loss of life, suffering, destruction and devastation caused by war. The only trouble about the principle is that, as it deals with human beings, there is with this, as with other questions of conduct, that same unknown factor--the spiritual side of man's nature. One of the most fundamental feelings of manhood--true for a nation, as it is for an individual--is that it is right, sublimely and everlastingly right, for a man to fight for his wife and children, to fight for his home and native land, to fight for honor and to fight for right, as his conscience points to it. It was in obedience to such a feeling that countless devout Christians, in the Middle Ages, fought and killed to uphold their religion. Their consciences did not reprove them, it inspired them--notwithstanding the curious fact that one of the doctrines of their Bible was "to resist not evil" and to "turn the other cheek." But the fundamental feelings within them, of right and wrong, of faith and aspiration, were stronger than a creed. The same thing was true of one of the wisest and most spiritual men who ever lived--Abraham Lincoln. In his conscience, he felt it was right for slaves to be freed and for the integrity of our nation to be preserved, no matter how great the cost of life and suffering and devastation. The decisions of a board of arbitration, of cold intellects, basing their decisions on reasons of expediency, or abstract and scientific principles of a worldly kind, could not satisfy such feelings, or be permitted to override them. Lincoln would not, and could not, have felt justified in abandoning his cause to the opinion of European intellects, any more than the militant Christians could have their faith regulated by the decisions of Chinese and Persians. It is in recognition of this principle, that up to the present time questions which may affect the honor of a nation have not been considered a fit subject for arbitration. As long as faith and aspiration and their kindred feelings are in the ascendant, conscience will tell the individual, as it will tell the nation, that certain things cannot and must not be abandoned, even at the cost of life. If through the influence of the rule of reason, such a conception may be overlooked by the enlightened intellects of W.J. Bryan and Woodrow Wilson, and a host of other well-educated people, that fact in itself may be regarded as an additional symptom of the extent to which modern scientific training has spread confusion in the sentiments of the present generation. Countless people are to be met with every day whose strongest inner feelings are not strong enough to revolt at the thought of being passed upon, or decided against, by the matter-of-fact arbitration of reason. I could not love thee, dear, so well Loved I not honor more. The meaning of those inspired words, to the average up-to-date mind, is so lacking in common-sense and self-interest, as to appear simple silliness. The other day, I was talking to a friend about the bringing up of our boys and, in the course of our conversation, he expressed a sentiment which struck me as profoundly significant. He said: "I would rather have my boy _be_ something fine, even if he got nowhere by it, than to see him receive recognition and reward for doing something not so fine--and I would rather have my boy feel that way about it, too." By way of illustration, if a bully were kicking a little tot, my friend would rather have his boy fight the bully and get licked and rolled in the dust, than to see his boy win first prize and much applause, for out-boxing a boy smaller than himself. Of course that is quite contrary to up-to-date principles and scientific enlightenment. There is no course in any of the high schools which teaches that sentiment, and the whole tendency of scientific training is to judge things by their tangible results. Moreover, the rule of reason would decide that your boy is not justified in resorting to a fight, under any circumstances. He might get hurt, or hurt somebody else. The propriety and right of the bully to do his kicking, should be settled by arbitration. An impartial investigation might determine that the little tot had done something to irritate the bully to such an extent that his display of anger and brutality was but a natural reaction. Again and again, we arrive at the same underlying observation and explanation. The intellect, scientifically enlightened, would argue away and take the place of innate, inspired feelings, whose faith has been correspondingly impaired and shaken by the breaking down of religious shelter and sustenance. The relative passing away of honor in the business affairs of man, and its replacement by technical and hair-splitting calculations of legality, which pass for honesty; the system of graft and pull and private benefit, which appears to have permeated and fastened itself upon most of the political machines in most of the cities of our land; the personal immorality, or unmorality, and practical cynicism, which are so much in evidence, even among the best educated and most enlightened--especially among the best educated and most enlightened--in public and in private, in their own homes and in their neighbors' homes, as well as in the divorce courts; the conduct of the up-to-date young men, turned out by our most progressive schools--those of the leading families, no less than those in humbler walks of life--their increasing readiness to treat every pretty girl they meet as a proper field of endeavor and a possible instrument of pleasure; and the corresponding attitude among thoroughly educated and up-to-date girls, in accepting and welcoming such treatment; all these characteristic symptoms of the modern spirit, of the so-called "unrest," need not be referred, in any but a secondary and accessory way, to the after effects of a war, which did not begin until their line of progress was already plainly indicated. Instead of that, with all these symptoms in mind, let us sum up the logical effect upon the average individual of our progressive methods and training. Does he not say to himself, and should he not be expected to say to himself: "This is a wonderful age we live in, with the automobile, telephone, moving picture, victrola, and all the other inventions. Modern science is the greatest thing ever. And one of the biggest things it has done was to puncture a lot of old-fashioned superstitions and conventions, so that nowadays no sensible person need believe in them. Each person can run his own life in his own way, in accordance with the dictates of his own reason. Of course, there are the laws--but barring prohibition, which everybody breaks,--there's nothing in the others that a reasonable person need have trouble with." The obvious tendency of this is toward unmorality, rather than immorality--what is good for self, in the eyes of self, without reference to religion, tradition or convention. The fundamental feelings of faith and aspiration which found protection and expression in those forms have been obscured and disregarded in the confusion of the break-down. Also the practical wisdom and accumulated experience of ages, which were crystallized in them, has gone by the board in the same way. Modern science has scuttled the ships which carried them. The material desires of each individual, left to the judgment of the individual intellect, are apt to be treated with a certain amount of indulgence--even when the intellect has received the full benefit of modern scientific enlightenment. Unmorality, lack of restraint, lack of faith and aspiration, self-indulgence and pleasure seeking in all its forms--this is the natural and inevitable consequence of the kind of progress which modern science is accomplishing, in connection with the conduct of the individual. Is not this a perfectly plausible explanation for the condition of affairs which the English author describes so concisely, without apparently comprehending? "We are a nation without standards, kept in health rather by memories which are fading than by examples which are compelling.... We have become a mob breaking impatiently loose from the discipline and ideals of our past.... Everything is sensual and ostentatious." In our own country, among people of my class and kind, I may add the testimony of first-hand information, that a large proportion of them, at the present time, have come to regard passing pleasure and acts of immediate self-interest as the chief object and motive of their lives. It is the pleasure of eating and drinking which concerns them and not the needs of hunger or thirst; the appeal of sex solely as a source of pleasure, far removed from any thought or aspiration to create new life and care for it; the pursuit of money for the pleasure of gain, and the pleasure of out-witting others, and the gratification of vanities and luxuries, far removed from essential needs; meaningless distractions and entertainments, which tickle the wit and nerves of the material senses, but by which neither the heart feelings, nor the soul feelings, nor even the deeper esthetic feelings, are stirred or stimulated; jazz music, bright colors, lively movement, jokes and snappy ideas, seasoned preferably with spice and sex--this is the state, apparently, to which modern methods and the rule of reason have led them. To judge from observation and various information, which is only too available, this tendency is steadily increasing; while, to judge it by the light of the underlying causes which we have attempted to trace and make plain, there is logical reason to expect that it will keep on increasing. What, then, of the future? Is our civilization, like that of the Roman Empire, destined to decline and decay? If the present condition is indeed an effect of modern science, either directly or indirectly, how can it fail to continue? Modern science and the enlightened intellect were never in fuller ascendency than they are at the present moment. They are the proudest boast of our time. The very people who are lamenting the demoralization in our standards of living, are at the same time applauding the triumphant march of science. Could they ever be convinced that there is any connection between the two--that the downfall which they deplore was brought about by the rise which they applaud? Self-determination, as a modern principle of enlightened reason, was established and expounded by no less an authority than the scientifically educated intellect of our distinguished ex-president--in its application to the smaller and weaker peoples of the earth, as well as to the large and strong. If self-determination is the proper thing for each nation, should it not be an equally proper thing for each individual? And, as it is hoped and assumed that in this advanced age each nation will be guided by the rule of reason, why may the same assumption not be applied to the individual? If all the nations in the world were to follow the lead of Russia and respond to motives not approved by the intellect of our ex-president, he might conclude that a large proportion of the world's population was still unreasonable, without being convinced of the unsoundness of a principle which was, and would remain, in his mind the correct answer of enlightened reason. If the rule of the majority, in any thickly populated community, was found to result in the election of demagogues and grafters and unscrupulous politicians, who are clever enough to take advantage of the private selfishness and prejudices and indifference of the individual; and if you considered it a reasonable and enlightened principle that every citizen should have equal rights and the majority rule, the unfortunate results might lead you to have a very poor opinion of the majority and resentment for the corrupt politicians, without convincing you of the unsoundness of the enlightened principle. If the system of compulsory education--of enforced attendance at the high school--of all manner of children from the humbler walks of life were found to result in filling their simple heads with extravagant notions and worldly ambitions for which nature did not intend them, which breed discontent with the kind of work for which they are suited, which separate them from their parents and their congenial inheritance, and impel them in mistaken paths to learn bitterness and revolt--if this were found to be the tendency in a large percentage of cases; and if your reason considered that all individuals are entitled to equal opportunity, and that the education of the masses is an enlightened modern principle, the tangible results, however unfortunate they might appear, would not convince you of the unsoundness of the principle. As a matter of fact, very few people may be convinced of anything which is contrary to their liking, or in opposition to their preconceived notions. An open mind may be helped to form an opinion, and people may be confirmed and enlightened by ideas which are congenial to their way of thinking, but that is as much as may reasonably be expected. This phase of the subject has not been my concern. I am merely trying to find expression for what seems to me the truth, as I feel it and see it. And the truth is, obviously, that the aim and effort of modern science has been to build up rather than to tear down. It has been striving, with all the means at its command, to discover the true facts and the true principles with regard to all things and to utilize them for the benefit of mankind. It may be its attention has been chiefly occupied with the material things of life, and the material principles which apply to them, but modern progress, in many ways is a splendid thing. As applied to the life of the individual, it is a splendid thing to improve the health and strength and condition of the human body. And as for the intellect, anything that science has done or could do to develop it to the highest degree, must be regarded as a step in the right direction. The body and the mind are essential parts of a human being and, as we have had occasion to observe, it is a fundamental aspiration of man to make them always better. If science, in investigating the true facts of existence, has been led to conclude that many old-time traditions and beliefs were largely composed of imagination and ignorance, and the indirect results of such a conclusion have proved unsettling and disconcerting, should blame be attached to any effort which seeks only the truth? The present condition, however unfortunate it may appear to us who are experiencing it, may be no more than a passing phase of development. The dawn of better days and finer standards, may lie just ahead of us, and when they come, it may be found that the enlightenment of the intellect by modern science was a necessary step in preparation for them. I, for one, am by no means without hope. Upon what grounds that hope is founded remains to be considered carefully. VII HOPE If we admit, or assume, that the ideals and moral standards of our civilization are on the decline--that materialism, selfishness, pleasure-seeking and dissipation of various kinds, are tending to supplant the finer feelings; and that this movement has been gaining ground rapidly in recent years--the question that naturally arises is: Where will it lead to? Who, or what, is going to stop it? A distinguished gentleman has lately been delivering a lecture in various nearby cities on "The Break-down of Civilization," and from the brief reports I have seen of it, he is thoroughly convinced that things are going from bad to worse. I quoted a while ago from an English author, whose summing up is to the same effect. Newspaper editorials and magazine articles and the private conversation of various people, are constantly expressing similar views, and I have just come upon the expressed opinion of the eminent writer and thinker, H.G. Wells, that unless something is done very soon, civilization is facing "the greatest wreckage yet known in world history." As the present "demoralization" was well under way before the World War began, that may be referred to, at most, as an accelerating influence, but not as the underlying cause. It is more intelligent, and more to the point, to recognize frankly that among a large and increasing proportion of our people there has been a crumbling away of religious belief. As a result of that, the fundamental feelings of the soul--faith, conscience, aspiration--are being neglected and starved. So much ought to be fairly obvious to any one who is willing to observe and enquire. When we go one step deeper and look for the cause why religious belief has been crumbling down, there is more room for confusion of ideas and differences of opinion. Many people blame the churches and the ministers and the lack of proper training of the children by their parents. Others blame the automobile and sports and recreations which are being indulged in on Sunday, through the laxity and insufficiency of the law-makers. Still others attribute it largely to the pernicious influence of the alien population. Finally, there are some who blame the vain, selfish spirit of the age, without bothering their heads to decide where that came from (except to infer a general relationship to the devil.) These opinions are opposed by those who regard the decline of religion as a source of satisfaction. In their eyes, it is an antiquated, narrow-minded influence which has been allowed to interfere too long with modern progress. The cause of its decline, as they see it, is a perfectly natural one--due to the fact that it has long since out-lived its usefulness, and in the present stage of civilization, people are much better off without it. They want Sunday to be, not a holy day, but a holiday, unhampered by Blue Laws or religious cant of any kind. As for the so-called demoralization of the present day, this latter class are inclined to laugh at the croakers who look at things that way. Conventions and styles are always changing and the modern ones are more practical and sensible than the old ones. New ways of doing things have always appeared more or less shocking, until people got used to them. That is the law of progress. The present age is an age of progress and on the whole the world is more progressive and more enlightened than it has ever been before. These are the two prevailing currents of opinion, clashing against each other, losing patience with each other, and attempting to get the best of each other by means of agitation and organization, movements and anti-movements, of one kind and another, including legislative enactments. It is fairly safe to assume that no effort of the religious sects can stay the march of the modern movement. It is possible to conceive that, through the forces of reaction, certain Blue Laws may be passed again and that in certain communities the religious observance of Sunday may be made obligatory. Such things, at most, would be only of superficial consequence. They cannot stop the spread of scientific enlightenment. And scientific enlightenment cannot be made to believe in tenets which are contrary to facts and conclusions, as it has been able to demonstrate them. On the other hand, it seems equally safe to assume that modern science and the rule of reason, if left to themselves, cannot be expected to nourish and encourage spiritual feelings. Their tendency, as has been quite plainly indicated, is in the opposite direction--to leave them out in the cold. Another conclusion, which is beginning to dawn on many people--even those scientifically enlightened--and which is likely to be more and more generally recognized, is that the life of man without the inspiration of a faith of some sort, and the other inner feelings which attach to it, rapidly tends to materialism, selfishness, demoralization, corruption and decay. That, in brief, is the situation which confronts us all collectively, and upon the solution of which the future of our civilization, to a large extent, undoubtedly depends. Suggestions of one kind or another, tending toward an alleged solution, will presumably keep making their appearance at intervals and a perfectly reasonable question is whether a sufficiently inspiring and sufficiently compelling solution will emerge in time to prevent the threatened chaos. For the moment, let us be content to defer consideration of the possible solutions and turn our attention to the predicament which, in the meantime, confronts the average individual. Let us suppose that such an individual, whatever may be the status of his religious belief, or unbelief, becomes convinced in his own mind that the selfishness and immorality and lack of sentiment, which seem to be spreading in all classes, is a bad thing. Suppose he is willing to admit, after due consideration, that our diagnosis and explanation of what is taking place is relatively correct. As most minds of the present day have a practical turn, the thing which interests him most, the thing he asks at once and really wants to know is what you have to propose as a remedy. How are you going to make people less selfish and more considerate of others? Less mercenary and more honorable? Less immoral, or unmoral, and more virtuous? That is the main thing which counts, from a practical, personal point-of-view: "How am I to benefit by your conclusions and how are you going to make others benefit by them? Unless you have something tangible and useful to offer, your observations, though curious and instructive, are not of much account." Let us try, therefore, to reply, in this same spirit, and hazard some suggestions which may prove helpful to those who want help. In the first place, let us call attention to the fact that after an individual has reached maturity, and his character and habits are formed, it is extremely difficult to change them to any great extent. The motives and point-of-view which determine most of his acts have become, so to speak, a part of his second nature. This second nature is something of slow growth and development. That is the obvious meaning of the old adage--"As the twig is bent, the tree's inclined." To change the inclination of a full-grown tree, requires a great deal of determination. In the case of human character, it may occasionally be done, through a great inspiration of the heart, or the soul. For a deep, ennobling love, or a new-born, exalted faith, the spirit and will are capable of almost any transformation. But usually good intentions, whose origin is confined to the reason and which are at variance with an established inclination, don't persist very long. The natural inference and expectation should be therefore, that most people of mature years, however much they might approve of other people's mending their ways, or even of mending their own, will be found to limit their effort principally to talk. In the absence of a great inspiration, the chief influence which keeps acting on them is the example and standards of their associates--the prevailing style and custom. Most people are very susceptible to this--women especially. For the sake of being in the fashion--or for the sake of not being considered out-of-date--many a nice woman may be led to do things which her instincts tell her are not nice at all. To a slightly less degree, the same thing may be said of men. But as the people who set new styles and establish new customs, in a selfish, materialistic age, are not apt to be guided by any great reverence for the finer traditional feelings, there is little help to be looked for, from this kind of influence. The immediate tendency is all in the opposite direction. A woman's own reason might tell her that it is more becoming to pencil her eye-brows and paint her lips and face and yet, if left to herself, an inherited instinct might keep her from doing so. But as soon as she finds that has become the fashion, she hesitates no longer. Women of innate modesty are to be seen, exposing their legs and bodies in public, drinking, smoking, gambling and dancing in a sensual manner with sensual men--things which they would revolt at doing, if it were not for the style. It matters not that the people who set the style were devoid of modesty and prompted solely by material considerations of self-indulgence and immorality. Under such conditions, how can people who are headed in this direction be prevailed upon by any amount of advice, however well-founded and helpful it might be? They may feel that they would like to see others doing differently, but until that takes place, their brains will not give them sufficient inspiration, or sufficient determination, to make a lone fight. There may be exceptions, of course, and in time these exceptions may become fairly numerous; but as long as the main issue lies between a return to old-fashioned religious beliefs on the one hand, and the dictates of enlightened self-interest on the other, individuals who can have no real enthusiasm for either, will be left to mark time or drift, more or less reluctantly, with the current. This is what may be reasonably expected to happen for some time to come, unless a great and fateful thing comes to pass, which will alter the entire course of modern civilization. As this great and fateful thing is purely a matter of conjecture, and may have no bearing on the conduct of people now living, we will defer the discussion of it until after we have finished with more immediate and practical considerations. There appears to be one way, at least, in which a clear understanding of the moral situation may result in practical benefit. The little children of the present day may still be bent and guided, their second natures may yet be helped to grow and their characters to form, in any desired direction. If we feel it is too late to bother over much about trying to change ourselves, or the people about us, that feeling does not apply to our children. That is a hopeful and helpful thought, and thoroughly practical. If all the mothers and fathers of the present generation wanted their children to be better and finer than the demoralized people so much in evidence; and if they set about it in the right way, all might yet be well for the future. And as a matter of fact, nearly all parents do want their children to be better and finer. All that they ask is to be shown the right way and they are ready, or think they are ready, to follow it. This is not only a question of good intentions, prompted by reason,--it also involves, as we have seen, the most fundamental feelings of the heart and soul. It is a wonderful and beautiful thing--the depth and strength of this feeling of parental love, especially the mother's. Nothing seems able to kill it, or corrupt it, in the vast majority of cases. The exceptions are infinitesimal. Even in those communities, and classes, and individuals where materialism and self-indulgence have become most pronounced, it is extremely rare to find a mother who does not love her child; who does not hope and strive, in accordance with her lights, for its welfare; who is not willing, if occasion demands, to make a real sacrifice for its sake. Many mothers have not over-much deep feeling of any other kind; many mothers have little understanding of the problems of life which confront themselves, let alone those which confront their husbands, or their children; very few mothers have more than a confused idea of the influences at work in forming character, in developing ideals and generous impulses, on the one hand; or self-interest, self-indulgence, and the rule of reason, on the other. Hardly anything could be of more help to the future of our race than a clear and settled realization on the part of every mother of one simple truth, which so many of our observations, in the preceding pages, have tended to bring out. The body of your child and the brain of your child are beautiful things, worthy of careful attention; but they are not nearly so beautiful, or so deeply significant, as the heart of your child, or the soul of your child. A strong and healthy body and a highly educated intellect do not make a fine character; they may belong, just as well, to a mean and selfish man, or an immoral woman,--a crook, or a profligate. A warm heart and a sensitive, dominant soul, do make a fine character, and they cannot possibly result in meanness and immorality. Those sides of your child's nature are entitled to the most loving care, the most constant attention, it is humanely possible to give them. In the average family of to-day, how much thought, or time, is devoted to the observance of this essential principle? How many mothers are consistently striving to watch over every tender requirement of the heart feelings and soul feelings of their children? The bodies are well enough cared for, as a matter of course. The modern rules of hygiene and the advice of doctors may be relied on for that. The same thing is true as regards the education of the intellect. Kindergartens, primaries, high schools, boarding schools, colleges,--relieve parents of all anxiety on that score. These two sides of a growing life, the physical and the mental, are so well taken care of, more or less impersonally, by the modern scientific system, that even if the mother neglects them entirely, they still receive adequate attention. Is this equally true of the heart and the soul, the development of character, so vitally important in the life and worth of every human being? If, in spite of her love for her child, these considerations are neglected by the mother, through lack of understanding, or the demands of her own self-interest, is the remedy for this neglect also to be found in the modern system? Unfortunately not. And right there is the source of a great measure of the present demoralization. If the truth of this could only be brought home to every mother, would not many a loving mother, for the sake of her child, be willing to sacrifice some of her own selfishness? If not, then indeed there is little hope left for the future of our civilization. But the beauty and wonder and endurance of that God-given mother's love, in all ages and in all climes, ought to convince us that the only difficulty lies in clearing away from the head of the up-to-date woman the confusion of ideas, the materialistic theories of sexless intellects, and the force of pernicious example, which have been brought to bear on her self-interest, and obscured, for the time being, her intuitive and eternally right understanding. VIII HEART AND SOUL As the heart of a child naturally begins developing before the soul feelings, let us talk about that first. And when we speak about the "heart," it is, of course, understood that we are not referring to the physical organ which pumps blood, but to that part of human nature which responds to affection and sympathy. The heart of a child--what a mysterious, wonderful, sensitive, beautiful thing it is! How much it gives and how much it is capable of receiving! And the one thing it wants most--the one it craves and hungers for, as an essential of its nourishment and growth--is love, tender, devoted, unfailing love. From the earliest babyhood, straight on to the years of maturity, and still on, that is the greatest need of the human heart for its full and happy growth. In early childhood, where is it to get that tender, devoted love, if not from its mother? Will it get it from a well-paid nurse or governess, whether Swede or Irish, French or English? In the vast majority of cases, the nurse or governess hasn't it to give. Love is something which can't be bought with money. Many a governess is a discontented person, who thinks she is worthy of better things. Many a nurse is thick-skinned and bad-tempered. A large proportion of both have much more tender feeling for their wages and their selfish interests, than they have for the child entrusted to their care. Should anything different be expected? It is not their child. In a few months, or a few years, it will pass out entirely from their existence. Plenty of people can be hired to take care of your child's body and its physical needs--nurses, governesses, doctors; plenty of people can look after the education of its intellect; nurses, teachers, tutors, professors--but no one can be employed to take your place in feeding it devoted love, because that love is God-given and God has not given it to the others, but has given it to you. The mother who turns over the heart life of her child to the keeping of a paid employee is guilty of a vital neglect. If later on, it should happen that the child proves lacking in affection, sympathy, consideration for others, and fails to fulfill the mother's fond aspirations, in that respect, she has herself to blame, first of all. If this simple truth could be brought home to every modern mother, it might prove very helpful to the next generation. It is not difficult to suggest how the affections find nourishment and development. And remember we are not yet considering the moral feelings, but only the heart. Love begets love; love is largely mutual; love thrives on the companionship of the loved ones. The tenderness, sympathy, devotion of a mother, very surely and quickly open out the heart feelings of her child and meet with warm response. The more constant the companionship, the more constant the outpouring of affection on both sides, the more that side of the child nature grows. And the more it grows,--with mother watching over it, helping and guiding, setting the example--the more it has to give to other people and things. It will love a doll, a kitten, a puppy dog, and show them the same sort of tender attention that it receives from mother. It will feel sorry for a poor little bird with a broken wing; it will feel sorry for father, when he comes home tired with a headache; it will put its arms about father's neck and want to kiss the headache away. As it grows older, it should be allowed to feel, and made to feel, that mother's love and father's love will never desert it--that that love may be counted on, as a mainstay of life, through thick and thin, fair weather and foul, to the very end. This should not be left as a matter of uncertainty, or wonder, or doubt. No mother should ever say to a child, or allow it to imagine, that if it should be naughty or bad, or do this, that or the other, mother would cease to love it, or father would cease to love it. Such an idea is poisonous to the true feeling and conception of love, which should be cherished in every child by every mother. Mother should take pains to make the child feel,--and she should take pains to make father do so, too,--that no matter what it does, their love for it will never weaken or waver. It is not enough to assume that this will be taken for granted--it should be confided to the child, at opportune moments, as the most sacred of secrets, the holiest of promises. And no time is more opportune for the telling of it--no time means more or counts more--than one of those moments when the child has done wrong and is troubled in its conscience, and feels ashamed and forsaken. That is a splendid occasion, for a mother's love and a father's love to prove themselves, by making doubly plain that although they, too, may feel ashamed, the strength and warmth of their love is undiminished. With nourishment and care of this kind the heart nature of a child is almost sure to grow and thrive. Its love will feel the influence of the big love it receives and want to respond in kind. In due time, it may say to itself, and confide as a holy secret to mother, that its feeling for her and father will never change, either, no matter what happens, to the end of time. As regards consideration for others, with the constant help and guidance and example of a devoted mother, this can be made to grow and thrive, too, until it becomes a beautiful and sensitive part of second nature. With such feelings nourished and cherished in this way, there is ground for hope that one of a parent's sweetest and most fundamental aspirations, in regard to the off-spring, will not be disappointed. The heart will be in the right place. Now, on the other hand, it is only too easy to see what may happen and what does frequently happen, if this sacred responsibility of a mother is neglected. Suppose the child is left, for the greater part of the time, day in and day out, to the companionship and care of a hired substitute, a nurse or governess? In the first place, the substitute is very apt to have no love at all, or what little it has, may be a very thin and shoddy variety. Frequently a nurse is unsympathetic, irritable, and selfish. That does not provide either good nourishment, or good example, for the tender heart feelings. When a child does wrong, the nurse scolds it and displays an ill-feeling which is the very contrary of tenderness and affection. That is bad enough, but it is not half so bad as the fact that this same repellent treatment is very often accorded a child when it has not done wrong at all, but has merely obeyed some spontaneous and beautiful impulse of its little nature, which an irritable nurse does not bother to understand. The way that a nurse wishes a child to go is not usually prompted by any loving consideration for the heart feelings of the child, but a very selfish consideration for the convenience and prejudices of the nurse. I have known many cases where the sensitive feelings of a little boy or girl have been turned to violent dislike by a nurse, or a governess. For days and weeks and months they have been obliged to live in the constant companionship and under the constant influence of an antipathy which sours and freezes their affections. I have known cases where a nurse, in order to achieve her own ends and relieve herself of trouble, has told a child to lie quietly in bed, when the light goes out, or a big and horrible bugaboo will creep out of the darkness and spring upon it. In such cases, the nurse takes good care to keep the child from giving a hint of this to mother or father, under pain of equally terrifying consequences. I have friends to-day, grown up men and women, who cannot go into a dark room, anywhere, without a shiver and shudder of nameless dread, which began with that same black bugaboo. I have known countless cases, where a nurse has said to a child, who has done something wrong or annoying: "I don't love you any more. I don't like you now at all." And I have known countless cases where mothers, themselves, have said and acted the same thing. And the effect of that is to belittle and corrupt in the child's heart a bigger and deeper conception of love, as a loyal and steadfast thing, with no string attached to it. If a nurse, or a mother, can withdraw her love, for a slight cause, then a child when it grows up can expect to do the same; a wife can withdraw her love from her husband, if he does something to displease her; a husband from his wife; a son and a daughter from their parents; a sister from her brother. How sad that seems, at first, and how it hurts! But little by little, as one sees and learns, and as the twig is bent--do not many up-to-date young people adapt themselves very comfortably to that belittled conception of love? Do not the divorce courts and remarriages and scattered children and the talk and acts of emancipated women give ample evidence of it? How glibly a certain kind of woman talks about sons and daughters lacking affection, and being so selfish, and so inconsiderate of others! How many of those women have taken the trouble to consider whether the heart feelings of those sons and daughters were nourished and cherished and guided, by the devotion of a loving mother? This is a woefully inadequate sketch of one of the most important elements of life, one of the most vital factors in the formation of human character, about which volumes might be written. It may be enough, however, to suggest reflection and a better understanding on the part of some mothers, well-intentioned, but confused by progressive theories, who are really in need of help. We may now move on to the moral and spiritual feelings. The most casual observer has no difficulty in noting the fact that most children to-day are lacking in discipline, obedience, respect, consideration for others, and many other qualities, which have been regarded as essential to a well-bred person. There has been no end of talk about it lately, as we know. As far as I have been able to learn, there is a fairly general consensus of opinion that this is due to a lack of the proper kind of early training in the home. As often as this question has come up in my presence, it has always been answered readily and confidently to this same effect, and the answer has met with unanimous approval of men and women alike. But I have never heard one single woman attempt to explain how it is that, with all the emancipation, and higher education, and scientific enlightenment, which has been placed at her disposal, modern mothers should fail to give their children a better training than ever, instead of a worse. Is it good for the children? No, of course not, they admit. Don't modern mothers love their children? How absurd! Every mother loves her children--more than a man can understand. Then why is it modern children don't receive proper training by their modern mothers? Oh, well, a good many women, nowadays, have so many other things to do, they haven't the time. Are these other things more important than the welfare of their children? Not that--nothing could be more important. Then, why--? If anybody gets that far with the average modern woman, he has done very well. She usually shrugs her shoulders, tells you not to be silly and parries with some feeling remarks about husbands and fathers. What do they do? And how do they do it? And who's really to blame? If you ask a modern man the same question, and no women are present, he may express himself confidentially, that most women, nowadays, are so fed up on civic committees, or recreation centers--bridge parties or pink teas--uplift movements or school boards--golf, tennis, automobiling--that they don't know what's going on in their own homes. They have advanced ideas about everything--principally themselves. When it comes to the children, their advanced ideas result, pretty much, in letting them get along without any home training at all. The women, when left to themselves, usually have little trouble in convincing themselves that if men had the proper kind of love for their wives and showed them the consideration and devotion which every feminine heart craves and is entitled to, there would be no trouble at all about the home. Every true woman would be found to respond magnificently. In nearly every case, the fault begins with the man--in his neglect and selfishness--and then man-fashion, he turns around and tries to lay it at the door of the woman. And so forth and so on. But again, no one attempts to suggest, or explain, why it is that the modern husband, who is better educated and more enlightened than husbands ever were before, should be behaving so badly. It is enough to agree and expatiate on the fact, without countless examples, that that is how it is. And the average mother, to-day, will be found expressing the fervent hope that her son will not grow up to be as self-centered and neglectful of his wife, as most husbands are. The effect of such talk, naturally, is to becloud the point at issue and confuse the mind. The point is that even in the minds of the women, the unseemly behavior of young people of both sexes is due to a lack of proper training in childhood. No enlightened woman believes, or claims, that two wrongs make a right. She does not believe that a man could, or should, take the place of a mother in dealing with children. She does not believe that he should become soft and effeminate, for the tender training of infants, but on the contrary, should be energetic and manly, for the battle of success. As far as the children are concerned, she cannot but admit that the immediate responsibility has nowhere else to rest but in her. If she chooses to pass it over to a nurse or governess, that is her affair. It is for her to engage or discharge the nurse and governess as she sees fit. And it is rare indeed to find a mother anywhere who would think of allowing any interference with what she considers her fundamental right. If she neglects her responsibility, or fails in it, and the results are more or less disastrous, it is a very feminine excuse, to argue that she has a selfish and inconsiderate husband. The care of the children was her affair, not his; both herself and nature agree upon insisting that this should be so. In this connection, therefore, it is to the mothers, principally, that we should address ourselves. At some other time, we may, if we choose, enter upon a discussion of that complex and much confused question of husband and wife in their relation to each other. Under present-day conditions, curiously enough, the first thing it seems necessary to ask a mother is this: Did you ever stop to reflect upon the tremendous and wonderful importance which may attach to the bringing up of one single child? Even if your heart feelings are rather anemic and your soul-feelings have become so muddled and confused by practical considerations that you no longer get any real message or inspiration from those two divine sources, yet you still have left a modern and enlightened brain. Even that is enough to make you almost dizzy at the thought of this thing, if you will pause long enough to give it careful attention. A modern battleship, or an airplane, or an automobile, is a vastly complicated and efficient piece of machinery. If you, yourself, left to your own resources, had the ability to turn out a complete battleship of the most improved design, you would doubtless consider that you had achieved something to be immensely proud of. But the greatest battleship on earth is not one-hundredth part as complicated and efficient a piece of machinery as your little son. And one of a dozen different faculties with which your son is equipped--the power of memory, for instance--is infinitely more intricate and more wonderful than anything and everything about a battleship put together. You might have an ambition to paint a beautiful picture, or compose beautiful music, or write beautiful poetry, or do something else with your life which you deem to be useful or beneficial to your fellow men. But by cherishing such ambitions in your son and transmitting to him all that is best in your own self, this same result may be obtained for the use and benefit of your fellow men. And in addition to that, you will have given to the world a wonderful human being, who may be able to achieve many bigger and better things than you could hope to do. More than that, your son may be able to transmit the ambitions and feelings which you have given him, to his children and their children, until your one achievement in making a splendid son, may expand and multiply into a wonderful lot of men and women, each and every one of whom may achieve more useful and beautiful things for the benefit of mankind than you could hope to do. All this may readily come about, if you apply yourself unsparingly to the unique and glorious task of making your son the right kind of man. This is only one part of the wonder. If you are willing to devote your heart and soul to this one task, another recompense is in store for you--a multitude of sublime recompenses. Each and every fine and beautiful thing your son does, as long as you live, will fill you with deeper gladness, more intense joy, than anything you yourself could possibly accomplish, through your own efforts. That is the crowning miracle of a mother's love and every mother who loves her own with all her heart, knows that it is eternally true. Just to look at your son and feel that he is fine and right and worthy of all the love you have lavished on him, is to taste an exquisite contentment, to which no other kind of earthly pleasure is comparable. And this same feeling of contentment will be waiting to steal into your heart upon the coming of your son's children--each and every one. Your mother's love will find a renewal of its glory in your grandchildren. For they, too, have in them the same mysterious spirit of you which you cherished in your son. And so, as you sit back, in old age, in brooding contentment over the young lives, so full of possibilities, you may reflect, in the sweetest way imaginable, that it is going on indefinitely, this essence of you and yours, on and on, to the end of time, fulfilling on earth the unfathomed but divine purpose of the all-wise Creator. People whose interest in life is centered in self-indulgence and material pleasure, may regard with dread the approach of old age; but not so a mother, whose deepest feelings have gone unreservedly to her children. To her it will come smiling, with the radiance of that most beautiful of all periods--a golden Indian summer. Take it all in all--for the reasons we have suggested and many others--the bringing up and giving to the world of a fine human being, the endeavor to make that human being as nearly right as possible, is the most important, the most profoundly significant undertaking that exists on earth. The all-wise Creator has entrusted that work, in a most beautiful and soul-stirring way, to mother love, the deepest and strongest feeling of which humanity is capable. If a mere man will devote the greatest part of his energies, day in and day out, year in and year out, to making pictures, or making stoves, or making money, to support the family,--how can a mother be unwilling to devote as much of her energy to this sacred task, which she knows is of more vital consequence than any material thing? Would that some one might be found to carry this message to every mother in the land--some one whose voice is so tender and true and appealing, that it might find its way straight to the core of their hearts and souls--clearing up the tangle of confused notions which the sexless reason and self-interest of progressive intellects have been making! In the meanwhile, we must be content to see things as they are and pin our faith to the belief that, as the baleful effects of the current misunderstanding become more and more apparent, the mother love, of its own accord, will become sufficiently alarmed, to throw aside its lethargy and seek to make amends by devoting itself more consistently to the welfare of its own. Let us assume, therefore, that a mother of the present day, is deeply concerned in the moral and spiritual feelings of her children--that she wants them to have fine sentiments and fine characters--and that she is anxious to do anything within her power to bring this result about. What is she to do? What method is she to follow? In this age of enlightenment, with all sorts of theories in the air, how is she to know the proper way of forming a fine character? As a matter of fact, in many cases, it is just because her ideas on this subject have become so confused, that many a modern mother has been led to side-step the responsibility and let things drift along in the easiest way, after the example of those about her. One of the first questions that is sure to confront her is the question of discipline and obedience. On the one hand, is the traditional idea of the past--"Spare the rod and spoil the child." She is familiar with this and there is nearly always someone near her who advocates it firmly--very possibly her own husband. On the other hand, she has read and heard and seen a lot which is directly opposed to that. Children should not be controlled by fear, like animals. There is something mean and ugly and revolting in the very idea. It is better to be loved than feared--better for the mother and better for the child. Between these two contradictory principles, even if she has the best intentions in the world, what is she to do? Is it to be wondered at, if many a modern mother, in this predicament, vacillates between the two? She doesn't like to punish the child and most of the time she avoids doing it; but now and then, when things have gone too far, or she is tired and irritable, she makes up for it by losing her temper and going to extremes. And the effect of this kind of treatment on the forming of a child's character is about as bad as could be. It doesn't produce discipline and it doesn't produce obedience; and it doesn't lead the way to any moral conception or principle. What it does inculcate in the child spirit very quickly is a feeling that the attitude of mother is largely a matter of mood, a very uncertain and variable quantity, which for the time being has to be put up with. And as the child cares more for mother, presumably, than anybody else in the world, it is no more than natural for it to apply this same point-of-view to other people with whom it comes into contact. There may be a certain amount of precocious wisdom in this, but it does not help the growth of moral feeling. And so it happens, in many cases, that at the very start, the twig is given a bend in the wrong direction. No mother really wants to spoil her child. She may say, with a loving and enigmatical smile, that she prefers to "spoil" it; but that is only her way of saying that she knows better than some stern and misguided people what is best for its tender wants. If she thought for a moment she was really spoiling the child's character, she would stop smiling at once and become very much exercised. As we have started with this question of discipline, let us not leave it until we have followed it out to the full limit of our reflections. If the choice necessarily resolved itself into one or the other of these two principles--strict obedience, rigidly enforced by punishment; or a vacillating policy of petting and scolding, leading to moral confusion--there could be little hesitation in deciding which would be apt to give better results in the formation of character. The old way, if somewhat crude and summary, has proved itself capable of producing discipline and respect for authority, a womanly woman and a manly man. The other way has not given much evidence of producing anything nearly so worthy or admirable. But, as a matter of fact, the choice need not be, and should not be, limited to these two principles at all. There is another method of arriving at the formation of character which is essentially different from either. The chief fault of the old method of giving the child a whipping, if it disobeys, is by no means confined to a lessening of a child's love for the mother, who whips it. This is one consideration which is given great weight by many women, at present. It would in itself be a real hurt to the mother and a real hurt to the child. But there are other considerations. Sometimes the whipping may not be deserved--it may be occasioned by a loss of temper, or a misunderstanding--and in such cases it is apt to leave a feeling of resentment and injustice. This is in addition to the feeling of fear, which corporal punishment is apt to produce. Quite irrespective of the harm to love, it introduces a false motive into the formation of character. The little sprouts of conscience may be overshadowed by this weed of fear. The fear of a whip, in a hand which may be strong but not necessarily just, very naturally brings into play the instinct of self-defence, to prompt and justify all manner of concealment, deception, cunning, lying. Those are a lot more weeds which may in time crowd out the more delicate soul feelings. Discipline, bought at such a price, is paid for very dearly. In my own personal experience as boy and man, the most hypocritical, mean-spirited treacherous characters I have come into contact with, were among those who had been most disciplined by unsympathetic and unrelenting parents. This is not to say, or imply, that corporal punishment, or stern treatment, necessarily leads to such unfortunate results. It is merely to indicate some of the possible dangers and drawbacks. With sturdy, primitive natures, an occasional beating is a matter of little moment; while for unthinking, commonplace minds, and undeveloped, unsensitive souls, the habit of obedience and docile respect for authority, in any and all forms, may be an excellent thing. A wolf cannot be trained in the same way as a setter dog, or a canary bird; and even among horses, the kind of treatment that a cart-horse thrives under, would ruin a thoroughbred completely. The traditional methods of handling children date back to a time when there were many wolves and cart-horses and no method would have generally survived which did not include them. But in our advanced civilization, as mothers frequently have more sensitive stock to deal with, there is reason for them to feel that, somehow, they should go about it differently. This appears to be a partial explanation of what we see going throughout the length and breadth of our land. It is for their benefit that a more sympathetic principle has been gradually emerging from the confusion. And let us note in passing that the altered sentiment on the part of mothers, and the principle which responds to it, cannot be credited in any way to the achievements of modern science, because a similar tendency showed itself sooner and became more pronounced and wide-spread in communities of China and Japan, where no modern science had penetrated. It would seem rather an intuitive growth of delicate understanding on the part of parents, as they become relieved from the strenuous needs of material existence. This third principle does not tend to "spoil" the child, or repress its affection, or distort any of the finer impulses of its spiritual nature. It does not destroy obedience or discipline; but instead of obedience and discipline inspired by a whip, it seeks to erect self-obedience, self-discipline and self-control. How does it work? First, through love, because in nature that comes first; then, little by little, through the unfolding of conscience and faith. We have talked about the heart feelings of a child, so it is only necessary to refer to them again, not for the joy they may bring to mothers, but because loyalty, fidelity, consideration for others, growing out of affection, may merge imperceptibly with feelings which are essentially moral and spiritual, to the immense advantage of both. Let a mother love her child, then, and cherish its love, with all the lavishness, tenderness, constancy of which she is capable. There can never be too much of it--there can never be enough of it--either for the child's good, or the mother's. And before the child is really old enough to think, let it have a radiant, deep-rooted feeling that mother's love is a mainstay of life, which will never waver or desert it, under any possible contingency, and which it, in turn, will never, never desert. And let a mother never trifle with that feeling, or prove fickle to it, at any stage, but treasure it as the holiest of holies, the very essence of the character she hopes to see formed. In the early stages of development, when a child's mind is unable to reason or understand, little habits of second nature are formed. The moral questions do not come to the fore until the age of reason and the first awakening of the spiritual feelings. And they bring with them unavoidably, the problem of obedience and discipline. Suppose your son disobeys you, what then? Or suppose he has disobeyed the nurse, and she comes and tells you? Something has to be done about that, surely. What must you do? Well, first of all, there is one thing you must be very careful _not_ to do. Don't scold--don't speak harshly--don't look cross--don't get angry. Look at your child with sympathy and understanding, and when he meets your eye, with a cunning little look of shame and defiance, smile back at him reassuringly, and hold out your hand to him. Then, after the nurse has had her say, thank her for telling you about it and ask her to leave you, because in the tender confidences between mother and son it is not proper that an outside and possibly antagonistic influence should intrude. When she has gone, take him on your knee, put your arms about him and hug him tight. Don't let him forget for an instant that he is your very own and you are his very own mother. Whatever may be going to come of it, keep that point clear--that you are his partner and help-mate and he is never going to be left out in the cold. Nothing will help more toward a fair-minded understanding of the situation. Ask him to tell you all about it, just how and why it all happened and help him with your sympathy and patience to express himself fully. Let us imagine that this is what has occurred: When he was out walking, he saw a dead bird lying under the bushes on the other side of a ditch. The nurse, Delia, told him not to, but he did climb across the ditch and picked it up. It was an awfully pretty bird and he just wanted to look at it. When she told him to throw it away, he wouldn't come back. Then she caught him and shook his arm and he couldn't help it--he just got angry. He threw the bird at her and called her "an ugly old crow." When mother has heard it all, she can start in very gently to answer and explain. And it won't hurt a bit to begin by letting him see that she understands perfectly just how he felt. She remembers a dead bird she found once, when she was little. But, on the other hand, Delia was only doing what she thought was best. There might have been nasty worms on the bird. But that, after all, is not the main thing. The main thing is, that if he is to be trusted to go out walking with his nurse, he must be willing to do as she says, no matter how unreasonable it may seem. Otherwise mother would be worrying all the time--and something dreadful might happen--he might get lost, or run over. He doesn't have to go out walking with Delia, if he doesn't want to; that is for him to decide. But if he does decide to go, it must be on the distinct understanding that he agrees not to disobey her. The boy is rightly entitled to his say about this and if he has any objections, it is for mother to meet them and dissipate them with her love and reasons. Nothing should be demanded between mother and son which does not seem just and fair to both. One final point remains to be considered. He threw the bird in Delia's face and called her a name which must have hurt her feelings. _Boy:_ "I couldn't help it. I was angry." _Mother:_ "I understand that perfectly. But all the same, it was rather hard on Delia, especially when she was only trying to do what she thought was right." _Boy:_ "Sometimes, I've got an awful temper." _Mother:_ "I don't mind that a bit. I'm glad of it. It's only because you have such strong feelings." _Boy:_ "Have you got a temper, too?" _Mother (smiling and nodding):_ "Of course I have--as bad as yours--or worse." _Boy (delighted):_ "Really?" _Mother:_ "But it's something we all have to learn to control. Because if we can't control it, it's sure to make us do things that we're ashamed of afterwards--things that are unkind and unfair to others. Aren't you just a little bit ashamed of what you did to Delia?" _Boy (meeting her eye with smile of enquiry--then looking away and thinking, with feeling):_ "No--I'm not!" _Mother (petting his hand):_ "Well--I suppose you're still thinking about the bird--and there's still a little of that old temper left. But wait awhile and think it over. And--I'm going to tell you something that _I_ think would be awfully nice. Sometime, if you did happen to feel like it and went to Delia of your own accord and explained to her how you lost your temper and were sorry for calling her that awful name----?" _Boy (looking away, thinking, then turning to her, hesitating and shaking his head):_ "I couldn't mummy, please,--I couldn't--not now----" _Mother:_ "I'm sure she'd appreciate it, a lot. Poor Delia--she tries so hard and she's so sensitive and she's really so fond of you. Of course, I wouldn't want you to say you were sorry, unless it was really true. It's only a sham and a humbug to make people say things they don't mean. It's entirely a question of how you feel about it, in your own heart. And nobody can decide that for you but yourself." After an incident of this sort, how would a mother feel if Delia told her, the next afternoon, that Master Bob had come to her and apologized like a little gentleman--and he'd been so sweet and dear--and he'd kissed her--and it touched her so, it broke her all up and she couldn't help crying? If we take the pains to examine a little every-day example of this sort, it is not difficult to see that it involves some fairly important feelings. First of all, it encourages a feeling of faith--faith in mother, in her sympathy and understanding and justice. Then consideration for others--self-control--and finally conscience, what the inner nature, of its own accord, feels to be right. All these may be of vital account in the formation of a fine character, and they may be brought into play by this sort of treatment just as effectually as by a beating. Of course it cannot be assumed, or expected, that the immediate result in any given case will prove so satisfactory. Sooner or later, with nearly all children, there are sure to come times when gentle explanations will not suffice. Something more impressive has to be resorted to. This final resort was, in fact, faintly indicated in our example--but so faintly, that it might be overlooked. It was carefully explained to the boy that if he would not agree to obey Delia, when he went out walking with her, then he could not enjoy the privilege of going out walking with Delia. This is a principle of punishment, which may be applied to any and all cases, to almost any desired degree. And it has at least one great advantage over other kinds of punishment. It can be made to avoid all danger of seeming unjust and arousing resentment. Let us look into the application of this principle with reference to the more serious problems of misconduct which are liable to arise. In general experience, the most serious troubles, or faults, which a mother has to contend with, are forgetfulness, temper, selfishness, deception, lying. Her aim is to see them supplanted by a habit of reflection, self-control, consideration for others, sincerity, truth. She believes and feels that these latter qualities are better for the boy's own welfare, better for the people he loves, better for everybody. She wants her boy to feel this way about it, too. Very well, then, the first thing to be sure of is that the boy really understands the meaning of those things which you expect of him--the whys and wherefores and the good that is in them. Otherwise--if he is not sincere about it, if he must do things in which he doesn't believe--there's an element of sham about it which leads quite naturally to concealment and hypocrisy. It is true, he may always be counted on to do a great deal for love, for mother's sake,--provided that mother has cared for that love. But that is a sacred privilege, which should not be abused. It may have the effect of setting a bad example. If she has the right to ask him to do something which he doesn't see the sense of and doesn't feel like doing, why shouldn't he have the same right to ask her to let him do things which she doesn't see the sense of and doesn't feel like letting him do? If that is the way of love, why doesn't it apply to one, as well as the other? This may be very cunning and sweet, upon occasion; but for steady diet, it does not help the growth of moral feeling. It is much better that he should never be required to do things which he cannot understand sufficiently to feel the right of. This all comes about quite naturally, in the course of companionship. There are countless opportunities for explaining and questioning, about this, that, or the other. No growing child is slow about asking innumerable questions and trying his best to understand. Preaching of any kind isn't necessary. It seldom, if ever, gets home in the best way. The same thing is true of scolding and harsh words. They are not at all necessary; and they usually do a great deal more harm than good. Let us suppose, then, that your son has been guilty of an act of selfishness--and to make matters worse, through a feeling of shame, he has first attempted concealment and then resorted to lying. That is a rather trying situation for mother to face. It is about as hard a nut as she will ever have to crack. In the old days, there would be no hesitation in saying that the first thing it called for was a good sound beating. But instead of that, let us imagine that mother is brave enough to stick to her love feeling, reassures her boy, smilingly, and holds him close. First she gives him a chance to tell all about it, in his own way, and helps him along to a confidential admission of the shameful facts. And to make the case as extreme as possible, we will assume that there were no palliating circumstances whatever. The best that the boy can say for himself is that he just didn't stop to think--he went ahead and did it--and afterwards, he felt ashamed and didn't want anyone to know--and then, well, he tried to get out of it by lying. _Mother (smiling, thinking):_ "Well, well--here's a pretty kettle of fish--isn't it? What in the world are we going to do about it?" _Boy (looking down, nervous, does not answer)._ _Mother:_ "I suppose there's no use crying over it. The main thing is how we can find a way to keep it from happening again. Perhaps it would help, if we could find the right kind of punishment?" (No answer.) "What kind of punishment shall it be--the fairest we can think of? Suppose you decide it for yourself. What would you suggest?" _Boy (very nervous):_ "I don't know." _Mother:_ "How would it be if, the next time you told a lie, you and mother couldn't, either of you, go riding in the automobile for two days?" _Boy (troubled, thinking, giving her a look):_ "Two whole days?" _Mother (smiling):_ "That's a pretty big punishment but, after all, lying is a pretty bad thing, which we don't want to have happen. Suppose we start with that and agree on it--two whole days?" _Boy (looking down, thinking, very nervous):_ "If you couldn't go riding, either--why should you be punished?" _Mother:_ "Because I'm your own mother and I love you better than anything in the world. Whatever you do, can't help affecting me. Besides, you see, in a way, I'm largely responsible for whatever you do. If I don't bring you up right--isn't it my fault? And if we both have to be punished together, that may help you to remember." _Boy gives her a glance, looks down, thinking--begins to smile, hesitates._ _Mother:_ "What are you thinking? Tell me." _Boy:_ "You mightn't know anything about it--if it was to the cook, or Delia, or Vincent--or somebody else?" _Mother:_ "That's true. It's something else for us to think about. If a boy tells a lie to anybody--because he's ashamed or afraid--that's bad enough. But afterwards, if he doesn't own up to it like a little man, but tries to conceal it from his mother, or deny it, that is ever so much worse. It deserves a much bigger punishment. Isn't that right?... Isn't it?" _Boy looks down, showing more nervousness, finally assents._ _Mother:_ "Very well, then--this is what seems fair to me: If my boy tells another lie and doesn't attempt to deny it, afterwards--then the punishment will be as we agreed--two days, with no automobile for either of us. But if, before she hears of it, he comes, of his own accord, and tells mother all about it--that's better, and we'll reduce the punishment to one day. But if, on the contrary, he tries to conceal it and denies it and tells more lies, that is worst of all--and when it is found out, as it is very apt to be, sooner or later--then the punishment will have to be harder on all of us--and father will have to be included too." _Boy (quickly):_ "Father?" _Mother:_ "If father is going to have that kind of a son, he will have to know about it and suffer for it, too. He will have to take his punishment, whether he wants to or not--the same as you and I." _Boy:_ "Oh, mummy, please! Does father have to know about that, yet?" _Mother:_ "Well, you see, dear, father loves us both, very much. We both belong to him--we both bear his name--and he works very hard to give us everything he can to make us happy." _Boy:_ "But if I don't do it again----?" _Mother (hugging him):_ "All right! If you really mean to try very hard, perhaps we'll never have to come to that. I'm quite sure I don't want to, any more than you do. There! it's understood and agreed--and we won't say another word about it." That is a simple example of the principle; but it is enough to suggest the beginning and end of the whole thing. It can be made elastic enough--gentle or severe enough--to fit almost any or all cases that may be imagined. The punishment is talked over and understood in advance, not in any way as a chastisement, inflicted by an angry parent, but as a necessary and eminently fair means of impressing upon an unformed character the need of self-control, and the avoidance of an act which he knows is unworthy. There are always certain things in every child's life which mean a lot to him--dolls, toys, games, skates, baseball, bicycle, automobile rides, swimming, tennis, golf--or something else--at all ages, up to manhood. To be deprived of an important pleasure is a sure way of making him stop and think over the meaning of it. There is only one thing that will bring it home more surely and more deeply, and that is to see the one he loves best deprived of her important pleasures, too, as a result of his misconduct. If mother cannot go out in the automobile; if mother cannot play the piano; if mother cannot read to him, or tell him stories; if mother cannot come to the table for her meals;--the sight of this and the knowledge that he is the cause of it, will put a terrible tug on the heart-strings and the conscience. And in extreme cases, if father has to be included in the punishment, and deprived of his pleasures, too, that makes the boy's feeling of guilty responsibility even more pronounced. Yet, with it all, there is no chance for a sense of personal resentment and injustice to obscure the meaning. The unfairness and severity--if there be any--applies most to mother and is inflicted by the boy's own act. And if mother sets the example of accepting it bravely and smilingly, with no complaint and no scolding, and clings fast to her love and sympathy, in this trial of love, such experiences may be counted on to prove entirely helpful to the growth of moral feeling and self-discipline. And once a punishment has been determined and agreed upon in advance, it should never be deviated from in the slightest degree. If a child were allowed to evade it, or modify it, by cajolery or cunning appeal, that would tend to destroy the spirit of fairness and faith in mother's word. If a child will not respond to this kind of treatment and this kind of punishment, it is fairly safe to assume that he would respond even less, as far as the development of character is concerned, to ill-temper, harsh language, and the whip. So much for the question of discipline, about which many well-intentioned mothers of the present day are so perplexed and confused. In this connection, however, there remains to be made a general observation and warning, upon which too much stress can hardly be laid. A certain amount of discipline, in a few important matters which involve moral feeling, is almost essential to the proper formation of character. On the other hand, constant restraint and excessive discipline, in the natural exuberance of youthful impulses and activities, is unwise and unfair to human nature. A mother who puts a healthy, normal boy in a pretty suit of clothes, and then would talk punishment, because he plays in the mud, or climbs a tree, doesn't deserve to have a healthy, normal boy. His impulse to play in the mud and climb trees is infinitely more vital and admirable than the vanity and sentimentality which attaches to spotless clothes. Sturdy vitality is a splendid foundation for sturdy character. Almost any kind of activity which does not endanger his life or health is good for him. Lots of love and a little helpful guidance, in essential things, is all that he usually needs--and very, very little repression, of any kind--the less the better. In a child's nature the faculty of imagination and the force of example are important considerations in the development of the spiritual feelings and the formation of fine ideals. The world of make-believe, of purest fantasy, is just as interesting and just as significant as the every day actualities of life. It makes not the slightest difference to a little boy, or girl, whether the stories you read them, or the acts of hero and heroine, are reasonable or not. (And if, in the preceding pages, I have referred to the child as being a boy, that is only for convenience in writing and not to imply that the observations would differ in the case of a girl.) The child's imagination is ready and eager to follow you anywhere and the main thing is the exercise of the feelings occasioned by fictitious events. This is one of the earliest ways for the tender soul nature to find nourishment and growth. The more rhymes and jingles it can hear, the more fairy tales, stories of adventure, thrilling deeds of heroism, the better it is for the forming traits of character. In nearly all the stories a mother may find to read or tell to her children, there are examples and side-lights of courage, devotion, honor, loyalty, cheerfulness, patience, and other exhilarating qualities. There is no necessity of picking and choosing too carefully, or of attempting to confine the exercise to a certain sort of fiction whose tendency is obviously moral. The biggest part of it is to give the imagination and feelings plenty of food to grow on, to encourage and stimulate a liking and admiration for things which appeal to the interest through the imagination. Given half a chance, nature can be fairly well trusted to look after the rest--and in the long run is apt to prove as true a guide as finicky and restricted notions which may be lacking in broad comprehension. One of the loveliest and most helpful occupations any mother can have is to learn to tell stories to her children. Many mothers may find themselves a little deficient in this ability, at first; but, with the inspiration of love and their holy cause, almost any mother can soon acquire a charming facility in doing it. And the advantage to the children, as well as to mother, which may be derived from this method is very considerable. A story told by mother is easier to understand, more sympathetic, more delightful, less set and cumbersome than nearly any story which has to be read methodically from the printed pages of a book. A mother is in close touch with the needs and natures of her own flock--she can embellish and interpret and add her own loving comments, as such and as often as she feels the call for it. I have found by experience that so many stories which are supposedly designed for children, make use of big and stilted words, complicated ideas, and tedious, long-winded explanations. Mother can read them so quickly by herself and then preserve the pith and point of them in her own manner of recounting. There is practically no limit to the variety of kinds and subjects which may be interpreted and rendered available in this way. The story of Ivanhoe, or Quentin Durward, or Lohengrin, may be just as readily told in this way as Cinderella, or Robin Hood, or Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp. But set any child the task of reading for itself a great volume of Ivanhoe, or many of the other world classics, or of listening to any one who waded through the long descriptions for hours on end, is hardly to be thought of. Fortunately there are a number of books which seem to have been written by people who love children and understand them. These a mother can search out and select from and make good use of. One of the curious things about youth is that children love to hear the same stories over and over again, even after they know them almost by heart. This is undoubtedly due to the fact that the appeal is principally to the feelings and not to the intellect. Intellectual people, when once they know the contents of a book, seldom have any further interest in it. But music and painting and poetry do not lose interest through familiarity, even for mature natures. Their appeal is more like that which stories have for children. Owing to this condition of affairs, a mother need never be at a loss for stories to tell or stories to read. This part of child life should not be an exceptional occurrence due to her mood or whim, but a constant feature of the daily life to be counted on and treasured up. The lovely atmosphere which surrounds it, the moral and spiritual ideals which are engendered by it, combine in making it a precious influence in the rearing of a new generation. "But," exclaims the up-to-date woman, of enlightened intellect, "what kind of old-fashioned, benighted mother are you prating about! This is the era of woman's rights and woman's emancipation! What time would a woman have for her own affairs--for the exercise of her rights, which have been won with so much effort--if she had to keep bothering her head with that sort of thing?" That is true. It would seem as if we had forgotten about the self-interest and selfishness of the modern movement, which is there on all sides to poke its tongue at a mother's devotion to her sacred cause. Indeed, we have no answer to give to that kind of selfishness. The essence of our thought is love and faith in the love of motherhood. There is no selfishness in it and the language it uses is not translatable into terms which the rule of reason can hope to understand. But to those mothers whose hearts are still in the right place, even if their heads have become more or less confused by the shouting and example of intellectual leaders, there is a very simple observation to suggest, as an answer to such objections. Is it of much importance or benefit to you, yourself, or to anybody, or any thing, that you should spend so much of your time in gambling at the bridge table? Or gossiping at an afternoon tea? Or attending a meeting at the woman's club? Or at the hair-dresser's and manicure's? Or in intellectual pursuits of any kind? Is it not more important to you and to your family and to the future of your race and kind, to devote a considerable amount of your time and energy to the children, who love you and need you and can profit greatly by your help? Is not that entitled to the best you can give, not only because it is the most important of all earthly occupations, but because by doing it you set the blessed example of thinking first and most of others, and last and least of self? After the children are tucked in their beds, peaceful and happy in the land of dreams, then it is time enough for you to turn your thoughts to personal distractions and pleasures, which are proper and wholesome for a human being when the daily work of life is done. Nobody will begrudge it to you, and you need not begrudge it to yourself. It is what distractions are for. It is also what the great majority of husbands and fathers and grandfathers have been doing since the beginning of time--working to the best of their ability for the good of home and family--content with their recreation, after the work is done? How can any true mother in her heart and soul be so disturbed and misguided by intellectual enlightenment that she could be led to desert her eternal responsibility for the pursuit of selfishness--or the agitation of _isms_? It ought to be reasonably clear that if a mother does desert her responsibility, and leaves to the care of a hired employee the development of her child's moral and spiritual feelings, the results are liable to be very unsatisfactory. It is the same story over again, which we took account of in connection with the heart feelings. Nagging, scolding, lack of sympathy, false standards, superstitions, threats, deceptions, bug-a-boos--are all apt to take a hand in forcing a necessity for discipline and deforming character. The tangles of temper, fear, deception, resentment, will never be unravelled and patiently straightened out. In their wake, are pretty sure to come, sooner or later, scenes with mother and father--hypocritical or defiant, cajoling, whining, or tempestuous--in which harsh and ugly words will sometimes play a part. And one fine day, the mother will probably vouchsafe the remark, as so many modern mothers have done in my presence, that when certain boys, or girls, reach a certain age, they get so that it is quite impossible to do anything with them at home and the only sensible way is to ship them off to a boarding-school. How much of a mother's time is required for the right kind of care for her children? Who can judge of each case, but the right kind of mother? Whatever the child has need of, that is for her to watch over and give, to the fullest of her capacity. And what of the rôle of a father in this most vital of responsibilities? It is essentially that of a help-mate--to bring cheer and comfort and courage, and the tenderest of protection and support. "The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world"--so says the old adage. In any case, it is upon the sanctity and devotion of mother love that the future of our race depends--and the deepest feeling of a manly man has never doubted it. There is much, much more that might be said about the relationship of a father to a mother, and of a mother to a father. The right foundation for it should be the deepest of moral and spiritual feelings. The true significance of it cannot help being eternal, not temporary. In no department of life, has the scientific principle of self-interest and the rule of reason had a more confusing, corrupting, and destructive influence. To attempt to translate the meaning of a marriage into terms of a business partnership is a ghastly mockery. This subject is too big and the discussion of it would carry us too far afield, to be undertaken in the present connection. Our attention has been confined, for the time being, to mother love and the formation of character for the next generation. And the next question which confronts mother love is the question of schools and school education--one of the most perplexing and troubling of all, and yet unavoidable. Let us suppose that our mother is an ideal one--that she has gladly responded with the best that is in her to her love and responsibility--that she has cherished and nourished every tender little bud in the heart and soul of her boy--that the twig of character is rising up straight and beautiful, in every respect. Then comes the day when Master Bob must go off to school--a day school, or a boarding school, or first one and then the other. Why does he have to do this? In the first place because it is the custom every boy is supposed to do it, when he arrives at a certain age--and then, to receive proper instruction, his brain must be taught, his mind enlightened. So off to school he must go, and when he gets there, a new and different atmosphere surrounds him, a new influence is brought to bear on the little character, so tenderly forming, and in the main the nature of this influence is two-fold. First, there is the school-room and the school books and the teaching of teachers--and second, there is the companionship, intimacy, teaching, of the other boys with whom he is thrown into contact. As the action of this latter influence is usually the more immediate, direct, and compelling, we may as well give it the foremost place in our consideration. And let us be careful to state frankly and bear constantly in mind that all cases are by no means alike. The conditions to be met with may be largely accidental and differ materially in degree or kind. And the consequences, for any particular boy, may depend very largely upon accidental circumstances, or inherited tendencies. A boy, who is naturally warm-blooded and very impulsive, may not react in the same way as another boy, who is inclined to be reserved and reflective. If I am led by my observations to make use of extreme or exceptional examples it is not my intention to imply that they are the rule, but merely to bring out clearly a point, or meaning, which, in less degree, may have a more general application. We have already had occasion to refer repeatedly to the force of example in shaping the conduct and ideas of a vast majority of people. Nowhere is this force more rapidly effective, than in the case of growing children. It is their instinct to absorb and imitate, consciously or unconsciously, and so adapt themselves to new conditions of development. And this instinct is sure to be very much alive, more than ever alive, when boys and girls find themselves removed from the family influence, amid new conditions and new companions of the school. Before we follow our boy, Bob, so far, let us pause for a moment and consider this question of companionship with other boys and the influence of example, as it may have applied to him, while mother was still at hand to watch over him. Any boy or boys that Bob might come into contact with, or make companions of, would also come under mother's eye. Not only that, but Bob would repeat to her, spontaneously and gushingly, every new thing that they said, or did. And if Bob still had a nurse hanging about, she would have an eye and an ear and something to say to mother, too. If one of these boys happened to be tricky and deceitful, resentful and cruel, mother would be sure to know about it very quickly. She could straighten out Bob's feelings with regard to any of those things before real damage occurred; and she could see to it that such contamination was kept away from him. As long as a boy remains under the home influence, it is part of mother's responsibility to guard against just such things. As soon as he goes away to school, and gets under the new influence, it is no longer possible for her to do so. Of all the various kinds of boys to be found at any school, which ones Bobby is destined to have as closest companions, to exchange confidences with constantly, and have set him the example, is largely a matter of luck, or accident. It may come about through adjoining seats in class, or though proficiency in the same games, or a common interest in collecting bird's eggs, or postage stamps, or through being room-mates, or sleeping in the same corridor at boarding-school, or one of a dozen other haphazard reasons. Let us imagine that by chance, in this way, Bobby's closest companions turn out, in due time, to be four in number. And for the sake of emphasizing our meaning and the principle involved, let us imagine that the accident, in this particular case, is more extreme than usual. The first boy, Ed, has been brought up chiefly by a stern and rigidly moral father of the old school, who has reprimanded, disciplined, chastised, most consistently and thoroughly. The second boy, Sam, has a society mother, somewhat of a belle, and so feverishly absorbed in her vanities and distractions, that his up-bringing, from the cradle, has devolved entirely upon a series of Irish, Swedish and German nurses. The third boy, Bill, has a very intellectual mother, an ardent devotee of woman's rights, and an active worker in various up-lift and educational movements. She laid out a plan of mental development for him, in early childhood, in accordance with the latest scientific books, but not having the time to attend to it herself, and having had constant rows with her nurses, she has ended up by heaping the blame on the natural stupidity and stubbornness of the boy, which could only have been inherited from his father. The fourth boy, Hal, is the most up-to-date of all. His mother and father were both divorced and both remarried and both have new families, for which his only feeling is mild resentment and disdain. These boys are hardly to blame if, as a result of such home training, the growth of their characters has already become tangled and somewhat over-run by the weeds of selfishness and calculation. If they were only mischievous, high-spirited and lacking in respect, the harm might not be great; but there is also a deficiency of the generous feelings of sympathy and affection, of moral standards, and of any abiding faith in what should be. Their bodies and their brains may be well developed; but not their hearts and souls. They may find it to their interest to display perfect discipline in the school-room and receive high marks and commendation from their teachers; they may also excel in the various games and win prizes on the athletic field; but this in no way prevents them from setting an insidious example to a less precocious companion. For practical purposes, the point-of-view and controlling motives of these four boys is in fairly complete accord. They think it is very smart to do things which are against the rules; but they think it is very stupid to get caught. They believe in using their wits to get the best of other people--especially older people, like parents and teachers. They believe in practising concealment, dissimulation and insincerity; but they are very wary of getting saddled with a downright lie. They have the utmost contempt for a "tell-tale," and they include in this opprobrium any boy who hasn't sense enough to keep from older people an inkling of any sort, as to what he himself may have been up to, as well as any others of the crowd. Nothing is half so bad as blabbing what you know--not even the risk of getting caught in a lie. They laugh at scruples of conscience; and they place little dependence on mother love, or father love, or any kind of love which isn't self-centered and decidedly material. They also have little use for high-flown sentiment, poetry, old-fashioned prejudices and pretences of romance; and if they do have time to read a book, they want it to be something up-to-date and exciting--a detective story, for instance, with a master thief and vampires. In addition to this, they have a number of other precocious and undigested notions about a variety of things, which they are ready to pass out confidentially, in almost any connection. Again we repeat that it is not to be inferred that all the boys in any school, or any great proportion of them, are necessarily of this sort. But in almost any school, some of them are liable to be met with--more so to-day than ever, for reasons which have been amply explained. There is no way of telling, at school, what certain boys may be thinking and saying and doing, when they are out of sight and hearing. If our boy, Bob, is unfortunate enough to be thrown in close and constant contact with that kind, it is unreasonable to imagine that he is at all to blame. His natural effort is to try and adapt himself to conditions as he finds them; he sees and feels that he is but a tiny part of a big system, in which most matters are determined for him, by the system itself. Aside from which, his nature is very trusting and sensitive, rather shy at first, and totally without experience of this new and perplexing world. The feelings and ideals which have been growing so tenderly in his little heart and soul are not robust enough to offer much resistance to repeated and covert attacks. They are in as great a need as ever, of guidance and encouragement and nourishment and the sunlight of loving sympathy. The formation of character was proceeding in a beautiful and promising way, but it may not be safely assumed that the results are complete and permanent at such an early age--the customary age which most parents accept for sending their children to school. And where, in the chance companionship of school life, is a fitting substitute to be found for the right kind of family influence and the devotion of mother love? It is sad to say it, but I have, in my own experience, known a number of cases, where the havoc caused in a promising character was directly traceable to the influence and bad example of youthful associates. A practical, up-to-date mind might say complacently that such characters must have been so weak that they would probably have gone that way, anyhow. But that is merely to close one's eyes to the understanding of a vital principle, the inner feelings of heart and soul which play such a large part in the formation of character, are subject to growth and alteration, like all other living things; and until they are given a fair chance to become strong, by development and exercise and proper care, why should anything more than a relative weakness be expected of them? If you abandon them too soon to blighting influences, there is always danger of their being more or less spoiled. The other side of the school question relates to the school-books and school-rooms and the teaching of the teachers. When we stop and consider that the average little boy, or girl, between the ages of six and fourteen, spends thousands upon thousands of hours, in a more or less dreary and distasteful and uninspiring way, over school-books, in school and out, it might seem as if we had a right to ask ourselves: Does the result justify the means? Does any one claim, or imagine, that school-books contain much nourishment for the heart and soul, or the moral feelings, or love of beauty? Upon what grounds, does any one claim, or imagine, that such things are less important to the growth of character, and a cheerful disposition, and fine standards of conduct, than the training of the intellect? If we are perfectly satisfied that the method employed to train the intellect does not and need not interfere with a corresponding development of those other sides of human nature--that is one thing. But let us not be satisfied to take so much for granted, without giving it a little thought. That is the first point to get clear. All those thousands of hours spent over school-books, in school-rooms, if they were not confined to that, might be devoted to other things. That is obvious and inevitable. What kind of things? If they were allowed a freedom of choice, children would want to do the things that interested them the most--things they felt like doing. And the natural feelings of each growing individual would be the dominant factor in nearly all cases. The natural feelings of a little boy, or a little girl, are nothing for any one to be ashamed of, or deplore, or wish to make otherwise. They are part of the all-wise plan, designed more profoundly and beautifully than any science of man can comprehend. And nothing is more natural than that a boy, or a girl, growing up in an atmosphere of love and sympathy and kindness, and what is right and fair and admirable, should respond to those feelings, more and more, and grow to have them, too. Some selfish instincts have to be guided and controlled by deeper and better feelings and the exercise of reason, and that is natural, too. And even the selfish instincts are just as natural and just as wisely planned as the deeper and better feelings, or the exercise of reason. In the advanced stage of enlightenment at which we have arrived can any reasonable person fail to recognize this palpable truth? It is possible that some people might be found who have happened to overlook it; but less easy to believe that they could fail to recognize it, when it is called to their attention. Any normal child delights in the exercise of all its faculties and instincts and feelings--whether they be of the heart and the soul, or the body and the brain. This is the natural method of their growth. And the ideal individual would be one in whom all these sides had reached their fullest development, in a perfectly balanced whole. The vast majority of things which interest children and which they naturally like and seek to do are unconsciously in line with this endeavor. They all give exercise to some quality which is useful and proper to human nature. And the variety of interests which may act in this way is so infinitely great, that children are seldom at a loss to find something that appeals to them. Sometimes they need advice, or help from older people, but that, too, is as it should be. If children, between six and fourteen, had at their disposal those thousands of hours which we have referred to, and did not have to bother with school or school-books--what kind of use might they be expected to put them to? It is not at all difficult to imagine. Play, in the first place, and games--in the sunshine and open air. And if the sun isn't shining, on rainy days, more play and games--in the play-room, or about the house, or somewhere under shelter. Marbles and tops and kites; jumping rope, rolling hoops, making pin-wheels; skating, sledding, snow-balling; baseball, fishing, tennis; leap-frog, running, climbing trees; and dozens of other pastimes, too numerous to think of. The very sound of them is healthy and joyous and exhilarating and the general effect of them on a growing nature is just as wholesome. But this is not all, by any means--only one kind of thing, chiefly of value to the physical side of development--health and strength and vitality and cheerfulness. In addition to this, there are many other interests of a different order which may appeal to youth very strongly. A collection of postage stamps, or birds' eggs, or picture cards, may become of absorbing interest to boys and girls, with time on their hands. These may encourage patience and perseverance and observation and enthusiasm, which are most admirable as traits of character. A boy may become deeply absorbed in a set of carpenter's tools and the things he can do with them. He can set his heart on making a pair of stilts, and a boat that will float and steer and sail, and tables and boxes and chests of drawers for his collections--all of which may develop skill and determination and an aspiration to fine accomplishment. And the interest so begun may lead to a bracket-saw and carving tools, or a turning lathe, and the fashioning of more intricate and beautiful things. A boy, or a girl, may have a camera and learn to take pictures and develop them and print them, and encourage in this way the growth of feelings and tastes and much useful knowledge--in addition to mental training. Boys and girls may set their hearts on building a beautiful snow fort--and work and slave and overcome obstacles--until they have given themselves a fine lesson in industry, and the rewards of successful accomplishment. A boy may become interested in a printing press, or a steam engine, or an electric machine of some sort, and acquire by means of it, not only a lot of worthy satisfaction and pleasure, but the enthusiasm of deep, spontaneous feelings--in addition to useful information and mental training. A perfectly normal boy, without any special bent for music, or art, may want to play on a drum, or a banjo--or to paint pictures with water-colors--and through the effort devoted to this want, encourage the growth of tastes and feelings, which may prove of benefit and value, all through life. If boys and girls are not occupied and tired by forced application to school-books, there is hardly any limit to the number of things, to which they may turn their attention, with natural energy and enthusiasm, and frequently with great benefit to feelings and qualities which involve not only the body and the mind, but the heart and soul, as well. We have named but a few of the activities to which those thousands of hours, now consumed by school-books and school-rooms, might be otherwise devoted. Whether or not those things are more important to general development of character, they certainly cannot be indulged in to anything like the same extent, if so much time and energy is daily required for school education. When children are released from the school-room, their heads and their nerves are fairly tired and their bodies longing for freedom. There is usually another period of study hanging over them, before bed-time; and although a certain number of hours are allowed them for recreation, that recreation is not apt to take the form of heart-felt interests which put an added strain on nerves and head. With this point-of-view in mind, it may prove worth while to illustrate by some concrete examples the kind of results that are liable to occur. And in choosing examples, this time, it will not be necessary to rely upon conjecture or imagination. It so happens that I may refer to some actual cases where boys and girls have not been obliged to go to school, or even to open a school-book, during all those thousands of hours. And, strangely enough, in spite of the forebodings and disapproval of many intellectual people, who always feel it their duty to protest against such a procedure, the results in all the cases I have any knowledge of, were not disastrous at all, but very much the contrary. Let us begin with some girls--three sisters. Their parents were well-born and well-educated, the father being a man of considerable distinction and originality. From a position of comparative wealth, they were reduced by business reverses, to relative poverty, and retired to a farmhouse in an unsettled district. The mother was in delicate health, the father under the need of trying to repair his fortunes, and there was no school-house within reach. In addition to that, the father had very little belief in current school methods, or the efficacy of school books. The result was that the three girls were allowed to go without any education of the prescribed kind; but an old man who happened to be living nearby, with nothing to do, was prevailed upon to come every day and help along with their enlightenment in any way they desired, or he saw fit. This old man had once had artistic tendencies, had tried his hand at various things, and was well-read and well-travelled. He soon took a great interest in the three bright and charming girls, and came to regard himself in the light of a kindly, sympathetic companion--which is the next best thing to a mother, or a father. He helped the girls with their flower garden, went walking with them in the fields and answered as many of their questions as he could about flowers and planting and trees and shrubs and plants, birds, snakes and bees--anything and everything they showed an interest in. When it was raining, he played on the piano for them and showed them how to play little tunes for themselves--which they thought was great fun. He could paint and draw very well and he brought them a box of water colors and showed them how to color pictures and draw flowers and birds and simple things for themselves. He also got some clay and played with them at modelling figures of various kinds. In addition to that, he had one idea, which was a sort of hobby, and about which he talked to them a lot. Every girl, as she grew up, as well as every boy and man, would be called upon, sooner or later, to write letters to people she cared about, and wanted those letters to be nice and interesting. Most people didn't know how to express their thoughts. So every day, they sat down together, indoors or out, and each wrote a letter to an imaginary friend. Little by little, the letters became easier and longer and more interesting. Frequently he recited poetry that he knew by heart, and told them fairy tales, and stories of every description from the many books he had read. And so the thousands of hours were spent with simple natural interests, in a most enjoyable way, without a thought of school-books, or anything distasteful, compulsory or confining. What, in this case, were some of the results? One was that the life of their inner feelings was developed to an unusual degree. Everything was done to encourage them, and nothing to suppress, or distort them. The stories and poems made a constant appeal to their imagination, while the daily letters which they wrote became a means of reflecting and applying this appeal. A love of beautiful things was naturally developed in them, and they naturally conceived a fondness for music and painting and modelling and poetry and story-telling. There was no pressure exerted upon them in any of these directions--merely the encouragement of spontaneous interest and the help of example. These tastes and qualities, became the common possession of all three girls. They could all write poetry and stories; they could all draw and paint and model and play tunes on the piano--with more or less feeling and facility--and they all grew up with remarkably sympathetic and gracious personalities--which became, later on, very widely admired and commented upon. One of the girls, the eldest, conceived a deeper liking than the others for music. As time went on, she wanted to spend more and more time at the piano--playing and practising and learning to read the notes. The second girl, in a similar way, was more attracted to drawing and modelling and painting. The youngest one, while the other two were thus engaged, liked to sit down with pencil and paper and amuse herself in writing rhymes and stories. The eldest daughter became a fine musician and composer of music, and a brilliant career was in sight for her at the time of her death, which occurred when she was just out of her teens. The second daughter, won for herself a distinguished place as a painter, in Paris and in this country. The youngest one left to her own resources, a widow with a little son to support, achieved much wealth and fame as a literary celebrity, one of the most admired of her generation. Let us now refer to some other cases, this time to boys, where the bringing-up happened to be accomplished without any aid, or interference, of school-books or school-teaching. In some instances this procedure was due to illness and delicate health on the part of the boy, which made fresh air and freedom from confinement seem more important than the benefits of mental training. In other cases, the parents deliberately believed and decided it was better for self-development and the formation of character to dispense with what they considered the disadvantages of school methods. As long as a boy does not know how to read, and is not taught how, it is the most natural thing in the world for him to want somebody to tell--or read--to him fairy-tales and verses and stories of every kind that he can understand. And this want is sure to be supplied, when there are loving parents to watch out for it. It may be the mother, the nurse, the father, or an aunt, or an uncle, who take turns at it. Sooner or later, as a result of this, the child is very apt to feel a curiosity and interest and ambition to learn how to read stories for himself. In the absence of any forcing, the more he thinks about it, the more his heart becomes set on it. He asks questions about letters and words in books--surprises his mother by showing how he can print his own name, then her name and father's. Little by little, without anybody's teaching him, almost without any one's realizing it, he has learned to read. This might not happen, of course, in an unsympathetic atmosphere--if there were no story telling, and no story books lying about, to bring the inspiration. But as far as my experience goes, it has always happened, somewhere between the ages of eight and ten, if not before. One boy I know, after learning to read for himself, in this way, in rummaging through the bookshelves, came upon a queer little book of Experimental Chemistry. It was very old and primitive and had curious wood-cut illustrations in it. It had long ago belonged to the boy's grand-father. It was easy to read and told about simple experiments that any boy could try himself. The necessary ingredients for many of them could be found at home, or be bought for a few cents at the drug-store. It happened to arouse his interest. The first experiment described how to take a little powdered sugar and mix it with a little powder obtained by crushing up a tablet of chlorate of potash--such as people put in their mouths for a sore throat. That would make an explosive, as powerful as the powder used in guns. It could be set off by dropping on it from an eye-dropper one drop of a certain kind of acid, from the druggist's. The boy procured the necessary things, then ran to his mother, and asked her if he might try the experiment. She responded to his enthusiasm and only asked permission to stand by and look on. He dropped the acid on the powder--and sure enough, the powder went off with a big flash. Wonderful excitement and joy! The experiment had to be repeated again and again, for the amazement of the waitress and the cook--and especially for father, as soon as he came home. That was the beginning of a new interest. The boy kept the book by him and pored over it, and set his heart upon acquiring first one thing after another, as they became necessary. As he accumulated bottles and glass tubes, and chemicals and apparatus, he made shelves and stands for them with his carpenter tools. In due time, he got other books on the same subject and became the possessor of a very practical little chemical laboratory, which was all of his very own making. At the age of twelve, he was thoroughly at home in dozens of complicated processes and experiments. This was only one of the many interests which he had plenty of time to follow, with the same sort of enthusiasm. At the age of fourteen, his laboratory was a thing of the past, but for all that, years after, at college, among his various other achievements, he had no trouble in winning a prize scholarship in chemistry. Another boy, brought up in a similar way and having learned to read without teaching, first took a lively interest in automobiles. When the family car went wrong, he watched the repairs, asked questions, and was ready to lend a helping hand. Many of the troubles on a modern car are apt to be in connection with the electrical equipment--battery, lights, magneto, timer, self-starter, etc. Sooner or later, a boy who takes an interest, is apt to become more or less familiar with the principle of all these things, especially if his nerves and brain are not deadened by forced application. At any rate, this boy soon did. This led to an interest in other electrical things--the ringing of bells and buzzers about the house, and the installation of an electric motor which would run the sewing machine, or a grindstone, or a little lathe. Then he got hold of a booklet about wireless telegraphy. There is something thrilling about the idea which appeals to the imagination--the receiving of mysterious messages from afar, through the air, and sending back from your little instrument the far-flying answers. At the age of twelve, this boy with the aid of a Japanese servant, had set up his own aerial and apparatus, had learned the code alphabet and was thoroughly familiar with all the delicate intricacies of detector, tuning coil, sparker and the rest of it. He had gotten in touch with certain other wireless operators within a radius of ten miles and, although he had never seen any of them, he could recognize instantly the sound of their different instruments and it was a joy and delight to hold conversations with them and call them up for a good-night, before he went to bed. And before he was thirteen, he undertook to construct with his own hands a tuning coil which would be better for his purposes than the kind he could afford to buy at the store. After much determined effort, he succeeded and installed it and had the satisfaction of finding that it was, indeed, decidedly better. Another boy, who had never had to bother his head with school-books, but who had also learned to read, in due time got started on a new interest by a printing-press, which was given to him for Christmas. He puzzled with it and worked over it, until he learned to set up type and operate it very nicely. Then he began printing visiting cards--first for himself, then mother and father, then the servants and friends. It was great fun to take orders from them and charge them ten cents a dozen, in a business-like way. Next he got a larger press and different kinds of type, and by dint of perseverance he found among the trades-people a few kindly souls, who allowed him to print their business cards for them at so much a hundred. Out of this interest grew a more ambitious one. How fine it would be to print and publish a little newspaper, with stories and verses and advertisements and subscriptions and everything! This appealed to the imagination and became an absorbing ambition. In this particular case, the newspaper project soon outdistanced the printing press. The newspaper must be bigger and finer than a press of that kind could possibly manage. So the boy went to a regular printer and found out about the cost and details of publishing such a paper as he had in mind. He didn't have enough money of his own for that, but he figured out that by going again to the tradespeople and getting them to pay for advertising in his paper and by making people pay for subscriptions to the paper, the problem could be solved. He decided to limit the scope of his enterprise to the publication of six numbers, one every month. He went to different tradespeople with whom the family dealt, stated his intentions, and asked for advertisements at the rate of fifty cents a number. He was only twelve years old at the time and they naturally had doubts about his ability to carry out the project; but some were found with enough kindly sympathy to agree to pay him, when he brought them the paper containing the advertisement. In the same way, among relatives and friends and neighbors, he sought subscriptions at the rate of five cents a copy and succeeded in obtaining a sufficient number for his purpose. He chose a name for his paper by himself but, when it came to the question of the reading matter, he did not presume to attempt much of that, at first, but felt he could do better by appealing to his mother and aunt and others for the kind of contributions he had in mind. He carried out his project, to the letter,--six numbers, one a month--and at the end of it, he not only had the satisfaction of a fine effort well done, but he had also earned a clear profit of over fifteen dollars. Likewise, he had helped the growth of character, the taste for literary achievement, the acquisition of much useful experience and information, and considerable mental training of an admirable sort. I might continue in this way, almost indefinitely, telling about the interests and results which may come quite naturally to boys and girls freed from the routine of school training. Enough has been said, however, to suggest food for thought. With a feeling of interest, or enthusiasm, behind it, almost any kind of mental exercise, or physical exercise, takes on the color of gladness. Without interest, or enthusiasm, almost any kind of compulsory effort becomes drab and drear and irksome. The intellect can be a splendid friend to the feelings--it can bring all sorts of suggestions to them, and point out their usefulness and their charm--but if, for some reason which may be entirely intuitive and fundamental and all-wise, the feelings refuse to respond, or to coöperate, any further compulsion is apt to prove futile and unproductive of the right growth of character. These are a few of the considerations which led to the remark, in connection with our boy, Bob, that the question of schools and school education is one of the most perplexing and troubling. No loving mother is responsible for the existing school system, nor could she alter it, if she wanted to. Even if she has a little pinch of the heart at the thought of subjecting her sensitive boy to such an ordeal, how can she dare to do otherwise? Among people of all classes, it is considered proper and necessary, for children to be sent to school. But provided a mother has a clear understanding that her child's feelings and vitality are the most important things, it is always possible for her to seek some sort of a compromise in his favor. She can delay the time of sending him away, until nine, or ten, or eleven. If he goes to a private school, she can very often arrange matters so that he need only attend the morning session, and never be "kept in," after hours, for punishment. She can help him with the studies which he brings home, and take great pains never to scold him, or show displeasure, or disappointment, if he gets bad marks. She can explain to him that while it is only natural for a school-teacher to attach an exaggerated importance to the training of the brain, mothers and fathers care a great deal more about deeper and finer interests and the right kind of conduct. That is about all most mothers can do,--no matter how great their love--as long as the present system remains in force. When, or how, it will ever be changed radically, is something about which it would be futile to express an opinion. Another question which naturally arises in this connection has to do with college and the very difficult entrance examinations which a modern boy is required to pass. How is he to do that, unless he is sent to school in time to be prepared? Many mothers and fathers want their boys to have a college education. To this objection, there is an easy and reassuring answer. Even if your boy has never seen the inside of a school-book, before the age of thirteen or fourteen, that need not prevent him from being prepared for college, just as well and at about the same time, as the average boy who has been attending school from the age of five, or six. All of the boys I have referred to, passed their examinations far better than the average. All those thousands of hours which were devoted to other interests, entirely apart from school-books, did not have the effect of retarding the boys' mental development and training. It was only a different kind of training, more in accordance with the methods of nature. When these boys arrived at the age of thirteen, they had more character, more self-control, more determination and more mental equipment, than the vast majority of boys acquire at school. I think it is a fair presumption, that under favorable conditions, such a result may be expected. It was the college question that eventually brought these boys to preparatory schools, at the ages of thirteen, or fourteen. And in order to enter a preparatory school and get used to the ways of school-books, it may be necessary for the boy to do some preliminary studying, for a few months, with some one to help him. But by that time, he has an object in view, his interest is involved, and he will seldom require the slightest urging. Without exception, the boys I have referred to attained high rank, both in school and in college. There remains one more thing to think about in connection with the bringing up of children. What about religion? Here is also a consideration which can hardly be avoided. If the parents are church-goers and still believe in the truth and teachings of the Bible,--that is one thing. In that case, all a mother has to do is to encourage her children in the same belief, take them to church and Sunday School, and teach them to say their prayers from earliest childhood. But there are also many parents, who no longer go to church and whose faith in the traditional teachings has become very much shaken. Their numbers have been increasing very rapidly, for reasons which we have referred to, and are extremely likely to keep on increasing. Suppose a loving mother belongs to this class--what is best and wisest for her to do with her son? "Mother, where did I come from? And who made all these other people? What for?" Those are simple and natural questions, which are apt to come fairly soon in the growth of intelligence. They call for some sort of answer. It is the first beginning of a soul feeling, a groping for a faith of some sort in human destiny. What is to be mother's answer? If she says she doesn't know--nobody does--that is very unsatisfactory and very troubling. The groping will still continue, with more and more persistency. If mother has a reason for refusing to tell, the information must be sought elsewhere. And it will very soon be forthcoming from some one--the nurse, or the cook, or the waitress. God made the world--He lives in heaven--He rewards people if they are good, by making them angels; and if they are bad, He sends them to hell, to be roasted by the devil. The churches, which the child has seen, are where people go to pray to God and worship Him. This answers the question and is perfectly satisfactory, for the time being. But the attitude of mother is apt to give rise to suspicion that she was only pretending, when she said she didn't know. If the nurse knows--and all the people who go to church, know--then mother must know, too. Perhaps mother, for reasons of her own, doesn't wish him to know yet, and would blame the nurse for telling him? Then the nurse would blame him. If mother chooses to conceal things from him, he can avoid trouble by concealing things from mother. This implies a breach of confidence between mother and son--which is not at all good for a forming character. It is far better for mother to show a sympathetic understanding of the soul need and respond to it accordingly. A child has no end of imagination, and feelings to correspond. It is the spirit and meaning of ideas which signify, and not their material accuracy. Rhymes and jingles and mother goose and fairy tales and Santa Claus are all founded on an understanding of this. They supply in fanciful form a very real and necessary food for the inner nature. In the same way, with this religious groping, food that will satisfy must be given in some form. But as a religious belief is something which it is hoped will last through life, it would seem best to clothe it, as far as possible, in ideas that will not have to be discarded by the intellect, when that becomes enlightened. Nearly every mother believes that the world and all it contains were created, somehow, by an all-wise Being--and that this Being has an everlasting existence somewhere. The usual name for that Being, in the English language, is God, and the unknown place where He dwells, is usually called heaven. That is something which may be told to any child; the idea is easy to grasp, it responds to a fundamental need, and it can never be disproved by any amount of science, or enlightenment. As compared to God, mother and father and all people on the earth are like little children, and each and every one is allowed to share in the benefits of His love and wisdom. He wishes all his children to do what they feel is right and fine, and fight against what is mean and wrong. If some people have less money than others, and fewer material pleasures, and in other ways seem less fortunate, that does not mean that they are less worthy of love and consideration. Nor does it mean that they are less fine, or necessarily less fortunate. The highest kind of satisfaction in life comes almost entirely from being true to your own generous feelings and doing the best you can under any and all circumstances. A poor little cripple may have this satisfaction, just as well as a rich man's son. It is very possible that the little cripple's spirit and his life on earth, will count for more in the eternal scheme, than the rich man's son. Material pleasures are perfectly natural and right and desirable; but they are only one part of life. A mother who has a beautiful boy and loves him with her whole heart and soul, has a more precious treasure than all the money in the world can buy. Those are also religious beliefs which may be told to any boy, or girl, and allowed to take root and grow, for all time. They are the expression of fundamental feelings which no amount of science can disprove, or deny. As regards the question of spoken prayers, we come upon considerations of a slightly different order. The idea of spoken prayer and the spirit which underlies it are beautiful and inspiring. The soul of an individual to be in direct, personal communication with the all-wise Creator--how thrilling and sublime! It would seem almost the deepest and dearest wish that mortal man could have. It is also an idea which a child can readily grasp and believe and put into practise. But certain mothers and fathers, whom I have heard talk on this subject, find themselves confronted by scruples and objections which are entirely sincere and conscientious. While admitting the beauty of the idea, they point to the fact that they themselves no longer believe in it, or practise it. To their minds, it has become no more than the survival of a superstition, which is no longer tenable. Under such circumstances, they can see no justification for imposing it upon the credulity of their children. One answer to such an objection is that it is always possible for the reason to be at fault in matters which involve the unknown. Aside from that, there are many worse things for children than the survival of a beautiful superstition. The same scruples might be applied, without any element of doubt, to the idea of Santa Claus; but the spirit of that belief, while it lasts, is so joyful, and its influence so benign, that it would take an extremely dry heart and an excessive rule of reason to desire its abolition. CONJECTURE And now, at last, we have reached a point, where, in thinking of the future and the hope for coming generations, we may turn our gaze in a new direction and enter the realm of conjecture and prophecy. There is an old saying that "Coming events cast their shadows before." If we let our thoughts dwell on the confused shadows which appear to be hanging over the spirit of our present civilization, it is possible to imagine that we can see in them the outlines of a coming event of the most profound importance. This would be neither more, nor less, than the birth of a new religion--or what amounts to the same thing, a new form of religious belief. What grounds are there for imagining such an absurdity? It is only a conjecture--it could not be anything else--but for all that, it is not necessarily an absurdity. The conflict which is going on between the old traditional beliefs and the advanced spirit of enlightenment has in it elements of contradiction, too deep and too radical, to permit of a complete victory on the part of either. If the struggle were to continue indefinitely, on the present lines, it seems inevitable that countless numbers must be found, on one extreme, who would never be willing to abandon their faith; and, on the other extreme, would be countless numbers who could never consent to a return to what they consider disproved and antiquated superstitions. And somewhere between these two, will be a constantly increasing mass of others, pushed and pulled in opposite directions, half-pretending agreement with both sides, but without real loyalty to either, trying in a more or less troubled way, to remain non-committal, and arriving at a state of indifference, drifting along, without leadership, or conviction. If we may believe the testimony of observers in England, this condition of affairs is already quite plainly indicated there--as much or more, as it is in this country. Such a situation is well nigh intolerable to humanity. The palpable results of it can hardly fail to be disheartening to any normal being. And out of this disheartenment will inevitably come a yearning, more or less unconscious, but more and more appealing, for something different and something better, a yearning for true and unquestionable leadership, which can inflame the imagination, inspire new faith, and command whole-souled devotion, as it points the way. In the mysterious scheme of the universe, in the all-wise design, when such a yearning becomes intense enough and widespread enough, I cannot but believe that somehow, somewhere, out of a tenement, or out of a palace, or out of the wilderness, will come the appointed leader. This is the fateful event of my conjecture, which I imagine is casting its shadow before, and which may bring a renewal of light and enthusiasm to millions of troubled souls. It may not come for a generation, or it may not come in a century, or it may be close at hand. What the particular form and force of the new inspiration will be like, is beyond the scope of the imagination. But it is not so difficult to hazard a prophecy in regard to its essence. There will be no claim, or creed, of any kind, to which scientific information, or enlightened reason, can ever find ground to take exception. It will not belittle admiration for the human body, or the human brain, or even of pleasures and desires which may be purely material; but, on the contrary, will encourage the development of them all, as a relatively important part of the all-wise design. Above and beyond these, will be a deeper and greater appeal to the most generous and noble intuitions of the heart and soul. There will be very little consideration for punishments, or rewards, or threats, or anger,--to force the human soul into submission of any kind; but there will be immense consideration for love of others and love of right, individual responsibility and self-control. Pervading and illuminating all, will be a blessed faith in the beauty and wisdom and purpose of the eternal mystery. And whenever, or wherever, this kind of ideal comes, and rings out through the land, with compelling inspiration, I venture the prophecy that the prevailing spirit of civilization will be ripe and ready to receive it with open arms. APPENDIX _Los Angeles Times_, Feb. 8, 1921. CRIMINAL IMPROPRIETY We had supposed that the decadence obvious in the sartorial modes for society women reached its limit last year and that a saner and more decent sense of propriety would evince itself in the revulsion of public taste. But the tendency to bizarre indecency has increased so that now we are offered in our public ballrooms the spectacle of criminal impropriety--of women's bare legs with painted knees, of naked backs and lewdly veiled bosoms, of transparent skirts and suggestive nudity, of decorated flesh and vulgar exposure generally--the sort of thing that has ever preceded the downfall of civilizations. It has no relation whatever to the nudity of innocence, as is perfectly obvious with one glance at the type of dancing women that affects these disgusting extremes, for their whole deportment is entirely in accord with their scant covering and nastily conceived exposures. They are brazenly inviting a certain kind of attention and they get only the sort of attention they invite. They are degrading all womanhood with their shamelessness, at a time when the more worthy of their sex have striven to win and deserve to win that respect which should rightfully be theirs. The people are all overwhelmed by the appalling crime wave that has beset the world--not only by murders, robberies and hold-ups, but by the ghastly increase in marital unfaithfulness which clogs the divorce courts; and the attacks against women and girls which have become a daily department of the news. The incredible and loathsome conditions cannot be overstated. They are widespread, staggering in their viciousness. And we unhesitatingly declare that the preposterous vulgarity and criminal impropriety of that vastly increasing number of women who adopt these indecent modes for "party gowns" is, if not responsible for the dirty conditions, at least a large and important factor. And it is deplorable that, as the extremists jump from extreme to extreme, the presumably decent women follow. They are slower to adopt the full measure of indecency, but each season finds them "conservatively" following at a respectful distance, so that the modes for decent women to-day were the extremes of indecency a few short seasons back. Why do they do it? It is a poor explanation to declare that they thus become more attractive to men. If they are honest with themselves, they know very well that the sort of attraction thus engendered makes the lowest possible appeal. If they are honest with themselves, they know very well that masculine taste in such matters is absolutely in the hands of women, that the standard they set is the standard which will inevitably be adopted. It has been said that every country gets the women it deserves, but rather would we say that every woman gets the sort of attention she deserves. Intelligent women know this, no matter what their argument to the contrary. But the women, who are going to these disgusting and revolting extremes, are not intelligent. Man may be vile, but he also has perception. Observe the women in any public ballroom to-day--those who expose the most have the least worthy of exposure. These lewd revelations are certainly not in the cause of beauty. It is the fat and podgy, or the lean and bony, female, for the most part, one who has neither natural physical nor mental attraction, that resorts to this means of commanding attention. She makes one appeal, and only one, and that to the very lowest instincts of masculine human nature. No matter how she may deceive herself to the contrary, she is deliberately catering to the animal passion of men. Beautiful and charming women of mind and character do not feel this urge to trade upon their "private charms." But the unintelligent and dubious female is invariably the one to make a bid for the only sort of attention she can hope to inspire. Theodore Maynard, now lecturing before the women's clubs upon the "Imminent Break-up of Civilization," defines civilization as that condition of a people founded upon justice and honor. It is not a question of brilliant inventions, of motor cars, telephones, magnificent hotels, luxury and comfort. It is essentially a state of refinement, culture and honor. "I could not love thee, dear, so well, loved I not honor more." That honor which is the very basis of civilization is essentially chaste. And civilized women must be the essential guardians of chastity and honor. Where women cater to the dishonorable and unchaste, there can be no civilization, no sanctity of the home, which should be the very citadel of honor. Adam in Eden whined that Eve had demoralized him. Eve to-day whines that Adam and his war have demoralized her. They are both wrong and both culpable. And as in the old biblical story, God will hold both Adam and Eve responsible and both shall be driven from the Garden of Eden, our great modern civilization that is gaining all save honor, that keystone of the arch without which it must fall to ruin. And the modern unchastity of women's clothes, the crude, lewd, wholly indefensible appeal to man's lowest instincts, the deliberate trading on the unclean and the lustful side of human nature, is, we repeat, a basic cause of that widespread dishonor and crime that are polluting civilization to-day. Surely there are enough decent, intelligent, noble-minded women left to halt this mad craze for criminal impropriety. Surely they can and will take the lead for purity, decency and honor, rather than be content to follow at long distance that road which leads to nothing but degradation for all humanity. Women and only women, can halt this mad delirium--this hideous craving for attention at any cost, at all cost. Where can it end, except in utter degradation, not only for their own sex, but for their husbands and their sons? This utter debasement of that precious heritage called "love" is the bitterest possible reflection upon our modern civilization. The sort of attraction these unchaste, nakedly adorned, women "of fashion" hold out can never inspire that precious, priceless thing which "passeth all understanding," which survives all the travail of tribulation, that beautiful emotion that "age cannot wither nor custom stale," which radiates the dark places with shining light. "Oh, woman, lovely woman! nature made thee To temper man; we had been brutes without you; There's in you all that we believe of heaven Amazing brightness, purity and truth, Eternal joy and everlasting love." _Los Angeles Times_, Dec. 17, 1920. The financial and business summary for December, issued by the Citizens' National Bank, will be circulated to-day. This careful review of general conditions classes business as unsatisfactory from the standpoint of current activity, but hastens to explain that data supporting this conclusion is on the surface, and then, arguing from the human standpoint, says that there is greater need just now that we determine when the tendency to cancel contracts, and otherwise strike the element of integrity from our business relations, will cease, than there is that we know when commodity prices will reach the bottom. "To-day," the summary continues, "we are registering a very low point of commercial morality, and as we approach the portals of a new year, a year full of promise and plenty, there is a great need of a full individual sense of our personal relations to one another. "It is not a struggling that is tearing apart the commercial, social and home circles of to-day; instead, it is the lack of struggle, a missing ambition to stamp out the measure of selfishness that has been permitted to breed in the human consciousness. Our growth during the coming years, both as individual business concerns, as a nation, and as a race, will be in a direct ratio to our re-establishment of individual and mass integrity. "The weakness of the bond market is merely an affair of permanence. It seems to be purely a seller's market with the cause of the selling temporarily prohibitive to reinvestment. The income tax has caused a new seasonal liquidation period to be written into the category of investment influences so that the present bond market, though definitely in a major trend upward, still hangs down around bargain levels. "Possibly some sympathetic bear influence is reflected into the present bond market through the sharp breaks in the stock market, yet whatever may be the cause of present low bond prices and dull activity, it is certain that the underlying fundamentals in control of the investment situation are favorable to a long swing upward, with the course to higher levels graded and fit for rapid travel when the turn of the year re-energizes the sinews of finance." * * * * * The protest against the present "blue-laws" is strong and the laws under fire are branded as the limit of legislative meddling, but here are some of the old laws that were really blue: These laws once were in force in Connecticut: No one shall run on the Sabbath day, or walk in his garden or elsewhere, except reverently to and from meeting. No one shall travel, cook victuals, make beds, sweep house, cut hair, or shave on the Sabbath day. No woman shall kiss her child on the Sabbath or fasting day. The Sabbath shall begin at sunset on Saturday. Whoever brings cards or dice into this dominion shall pay a fine of five pounds. No one shall read common prayer, keep Christmas or Saints' days, make mince pies, dance, play cards or play on any instrument of music except the drum, trumpet and Jew's harp. No gospel minister shall join people in marriage; the magistrates only shall join in marriage, as they may do it with less scandal to Christ's church. A man that strikes his wife shall pay a fine of ten pounds; a woman that strikes her husband shall be punished as the court directs. A wife shall be deemed good evidence against her husband. No man shall court a maid in person, or by letter, without first obtaining consent of her parents; five pounds penalty for the first offense to imprisonment for the third offense. Married persons must live together or be imprisoned. Every male person shall have his hair cut round according to a cap. A child over sixteen years old who strikes his father shall be put to death. A child over sixteen years old who is stubborn and rebellious shall be put to death. Whoever, professing the Christian religion, shall wittingly deny the Song of Solomon to be the infallible word of God, may be whipped forty lashes and fined fifty pounds. Whoever marries two wives or more shall be executed. Saying that the Christian religion is a politic device to keep ignorant men in awe shall be punished with death. Any man who uses tobacco in the street shall be fined, or if he do so in his own house, a stranger being present, he shall be fined, but if on a journey, five miles from any house, he may smoke. Any single person without a servant, wishing to keep house by himself, must get the consent of the selectmen unless he be a public officer. Persons not proved guilty, but lying under a strong suspicion of guilt, may be punished, though not so severely as would be the case had they been convicted. Every family must have a Bible, catechism and other good books. _Los Angeles Times_, Feb. 5, 1921. CROOKED MINDS The prompt detection and punishment of the two kidnappers, who were fools enough to believe that they could carry out a melodramatic abduction and get away with it, is a satisfaction to the public. But it does not remove the possibility of similar crimes, attempted and perhaps executed, by the large class of individuals who, like the Carrs, have crooked minds--minds that see only glamour and excitement in the life of a criminal, that are willing to take any chance and gamble with their own lives and liberty as the stakes, for revenge or merely to get money to satisfy their physical demands. Ten years, more or less, spent in the penitentiary is not likely to straighten out the false conceptions of such men. The Carrs will probably leave the prison with criminal tendencies strengthened by the associations and repressions of penitentiary life. It is just that such criminals should be put where they cannot prey upon society. But, while we are dealing out due punishment, the main effort of the social body should be put into the prevention of crime. We are talking greatly, just now, of the world-wave of crime following the war. Tomes are being written concerning its causes and its cures. But the primary cause of all crime is the lack of true comprehension of the meaning of life--a distorted viewpoint--a crooked mind. The causes of such minds are many: heredity, environment, associations, lack of proper self-control and understanding; they can all be summed up, however, as the lack of moral sense in the individual and in the race. The guiding star of existence, the conscience, in such cases, has ceased to function; the goal ahead, a future existence, has been lost sight of. Souls are adrift. Here is the secret of the unrest, the crime, the upheaval of to-day. The old forms of religion, with their rituals and professions, have lost their hold upon a large portion of humanity. The newer and clearer conceptions of the great truths that are the basis of all religion have not, as yet, taken the place of the old beliefs in the minds and lives of the majority. The people of the world are to-day at sea, with no definite port ahead, with no guiding hand upon the helm of their ship. In the chaos of this rudderless age state and church are making desperate efforts to palliate the evils of nonreligion and its consequence, non-morality. In our own country we are multiplying state-provided nurseries, schools, playgrounds, gymnasiums, colleges and hundreds of other substitutes for the homes and the home training that fails under the strenuous tests of present-day life. We are enormously attempting to train bodies and brains from the cradle to full citizenship. But with all our provisions and equipment we are failing to touch the real keystone of all character--the spiritual nature of man. We are teaching morality because it is morality, proved by experience to be expedient, on the whole, for a satisfactory career on the earth. But our schools and our churches, also, are failing to teach the highest secret of life--the self-control of mind and body through willed righteousness, based upon a knowledge and comprehension of a God-created and governed universe. Nor do our schools and colleges train their pupils to an understanding of their own mental powers and the development of right will, of sound reason, of controlled and regulated action. We flood our children and youth with equipment, with teachers, with opportunity for learning things from the outside; yet our educational training is failing, as a whole, in giving to the youth of this country the one essential thing for right living--a true and high ideal and the strength of will to attain it. Men like the two just sent away; women like Mrs. Peete (whether she be guilty of murder or not) are the products of a generation that has torn itself away from its old anchors of religion, of duty and responsibility and has not yet set up a new standard to true its conduct. State and church, with all their will to do and their efforts and expenditure of means, can never take the place of right-minded parents and homes where children are taught by example and by word their true relations to God and to their fellow-men. Crooked minds can only be prevented by heritage from men and women, who understand their responsibility to God and to their country, and who start their sons and daughters out upon the journey of life with a chance, at least, for decency and uprightness. _New York Tribune_, April 22, 1921. MACAULAY ON AMERICA _"Your Constitution Is All Sail and No Anchor"_ _The subjoined letter from the historian Macaulay to Henry S. Randall, of Cortland, N.Y., is taken from an old file of The Cortland Standard. It was published originally in Harper's Magazine._ Holly Lodge, Kensington, London, May 23, 1857. Dear Sir: The four volumes of the Colonial History of New York reached me safely. I assure you that I shall value them highly. They contain much to interest an English as well as an American reader. Pray accept my thanks and convey them to the Regents of the University. You are surprised to learn that I have not a high opinion of Mr. Jefferson, and I am surprised at your surprise. I am certain that I never wrote a line, and that I never, in Parliament, in conversation, or even on the hustings--a place where it is the fashion to court the populace--uttered a word indicating an opinion that the supreme authority in a state ought to be intrusted to the majority of citizens told by the head; in other words, to the poorest and most ignorant part of society. I have long been convinced that institutions purely democratic must, sooner or later, destroy liberty or civilization or both. In Europe, where the population is dense, the effect of such institutions would be almost instantaneous. What happened lately in France is an example. In 1848 a pure democracy was established there. During a short time there was reason to expect a general spoliation, a national bankruptcy, a new partition of the soil, a maximum of prices, a ruinous load of taxation laid on the rich for the purpose of supporting the poor in idleness. Such a system would, in twenty years, have made France as poor and barbarous as the France of the Carlovingians. Happily the danger was averted; and now there is a despotism, a silent tribune, an enslaved press. Liberty is gone, but civilization has been saved. I have not the smallest doubt that if we had a purely democratic government here the effect would be the same. Either the poor would plunder the rich and civilization would perish, or order and prosperity would be saved by a strong military government, and liberty would perish. You may think that your country enjoys an exemption from these evils. I will frankly own to you that I am of a very different opinion. Your fate I believe to be certain, though it is deferred by a physical cause. As long as you have a boundless extent of fertile and unoccupied land your laboring population will be far more at ease than the laboring population of the Old World, and while that is the case the Jeffersonian politics may continue to exist without causing any fatal calamity. But the time will come when New England will be as thickly peopled as old England. Wages will be as low and will fluctuate as much with you as with us. You will have your Manchesters and Birminghams, and in those Manchesters and Birminghams hundreds of thousands of artisans will assuredly be sometimes out of work. Then your institutions will be fairly brought to the test. Distress everywhere makes the laborer mutinous and discontented, and inclines him to listen with eagerness to agitators who tell him that it is a monstrous iniquity that one man should have a million while another cannot get a full meal. In bad years there is plenty of grumbling here, and sometimes a little rioting. But it matters little. For here the sufferers are not the rulers. The supreme power is in the hands of a class, numerous indeed, but select; of an educated class; of a class which is, and knows itself to be, deeply interested in the security of property and the maintenance of order. Accordingly, the malcontents are firmly yet gently restrained. The bad time is got over without robbing the wealthy to relieve the indigent. The springs of national prosperity soon begin to flow again; work is plentiful, wages rise and all is tranquillity and cheerfulness. I have seen England pass three or four times through such critical seasons as I have described. Through such seasons the United States will have to pass in the course of the next century, if not this. How will you pass through them? I heartily wish you a good deliverance. But my reason and my wishes are at war and I cannot help foreboding the worst. It is quite plan that your government will never be able to restrain a distressed and discontented majority. For with you the majority is the government, and has the rich, who are always a minority, absolutely at its mercy. The day will come when in the State of New York a multitude of people, none of whom has had more than half a breakfast, or expects to have more than half a dinner, will choose a legislature. Is it possible to doubt what sort of a legislature will be chosen? On one side is a statesman preaching patience, respect for vested rights, strict observance of public faith. On the other is a demagogue ranting about the tyranny of capitalists and usurers and asking why anybody should be permitted to drink champagne and to ride in a carriage while thousands of honest folks are in want of necessaries. Which of the two candidates are likely to be preferred by a workingman who hears his children cry for more bread? I seriously apprehend that you will, in some such seasons of adversity as I have described, do things which will prevent prosperity from returning; that you will act like people who should in a year of scarcity devour all the seed corn and thus make the next year not of scarcity, but of absolute famine. There will be, I fear, spoliation. The spoliation will increase the distress. The distress will produce fresh spoliation. There is nothing to stop you. Your Constitution is all sail and no anchor. As I said before, when a society has entered on this downward progress, either civilization or liberty must perish. Either some Cæsar or Napoleon will seize the reins of government with a strong hand, or your republic will be as fearfully plundered and laid waste by barbarians in the twentieth century as the Roman Empire was in the fifth, with this difference, that the Huns and vandals who ravaged the Roman Empire came from without, and that your Huns and vandals will have been engendered within your own country by your own institutions. I have the honor to be, dear sir, your faithful servant, T.B. Macaulay. H.S. Randall, Esq., etc., etc., etc. A FOOL'S PARADISE Radical propagandists, with a sublime disregard for facts and history, persist in extolling the tenets of Russian Communism as new discoveries in the art of government. They assert that the Bolshevists have solved for the first time in history the problem of social equality. They say the experiment of the "dictatorship of the proletariat" has never before been attempted and that it fails to find favor outside Russia because peoples are always prone to condemn what they do not understand. Russia, however, is but the last of many countries to rebel against its own prosperity. During the twenty years preceding the World War Russia enjoyed the greatest growth and development, both of its resources and education, in the history of the country. Two-thirds of the agricultural land in the nation was owned and occupied by the farming classes, which comprised nearly three-fourths of the population. In ten years the number of depositors in the savings banks of Russia had doubled and the gross amount of the deposits had quadrupled. Then came the war, to be followed by Bolshevism. The experience of Russia in the last two years, however, is not unique in the history of nations. The narration of the spoliation of the rich, the confiscation of the estates and the profligate waste of the national substance is only a repetition, almost verse for verse and line for line, of the license and the abuses of the last years of the Athenian democracy. It was then demonstrated that the impoverishing of the rich could not enrich the poor, and that a state without wealth will soon be a state without liberty. In the idiom of the gallery gods, it is all "old stuff." The Charmides of Xenophon's "Banquet" celebrates the pleasures and profits of poverty. He once possessed a fortune that made him fear thieves and sycophants--in reality the same thing--Athens had levied heavy taxes on the rich and had passed laws making it a capital offense for a person of wealth to attempt to flee the state. The money raised by thus taxing the wealthy was distributed to the poor in the public places. Any one holding a certificate showing that he had not sufficient wealth to be taxed was admitted free to the theaters and was entitled to one meal a day at restaurants supported by the state. The people's council, fearful that there might be a disposition to stop this waste of public money, passed acts which decreed capital punishment to any orator who should propose to modify the laws which made "poverty a blessing." Charmides recounts that he once lived in a state of perpetual terror. New taxes were decreed every day, each of which he was compelled to pay. He was deprived of the liberty even of leaving the state. His lot was worse than that of the meanest slave. Behold! a fertile imagination came to his rescue. He embarked in a speculation in which failure was inevitable. Good fortune attended him. Within a brief time he was penniless and happy. The unfortunate speculator who had gained possession of the wealth of Charmides lived for a brief time in the agony of wealth; then he attempted to flee the state, was apprehended and executed. Charmides makes votive offerings to the gods of Athens for his escape from the terror and servitude of property. "How comfortably I sleep!" he cries. "The republic has confidence in me. I am no longer threatened. It is I who threaten others. A free man, I can go or stay. I appear at the theater. I am admitted free. The rich rise in trembling and offer me the best seats. When I walk abroad in the streets they stand aside to offer me an unobstructed passage. To-day I resemble a tyrant. Then I was a slave. Then I paid tribute to the state. Now the state, my tributary, supports me. I lose nothing; for I have nothing." For a time democratic Athens was a veritable Bolshevist paradise. But when the ranks of the rich became depleted, when none cared longer to engage in any profitable industry, the public revenue fell until there was no money to support the happy idlers. The rich were tortured in the vain hope that they would produce hidden treasure; but the public treasury remained empty. This period of riotous profligacy followed the happy conclusion for Athens of the Theban war. When the Athenian proletariat discovered that the state was about to pass under the yoke of Philip they hunted down the remnant of the wealthy class that still remained, executed some, banished others and sold still others into slavery for "betraying the Athenian state and leaving it helpless before its enemies." Shortly afterwards Athens came under the despotism of Philip, who speedily conscripted this proletariat for forced labor. For a hundred years afterwards, however, Athenian writers in bewailing their loss of liberty blamed the fall of Athens upon the "rich," who failed to arm and equip a force to fight Philip. All the wisdom of her philosophers, all the art and learning whose loss the world still mourns, fell before the onslaught of this triumphant democracy. The culture of the few could not prevail against the greed of the many. Domestic conditions became so intolerable that a majority of the Athenians welcomed the stern but salutary rule of the tyrant. For they had learned that the tyranny of a despot is easier to be borne than that of universal poverty. One does not have to interrogate the future to learn whither Russia under Bolshevism is tending; one has but to look to the past. Like causes cannot produce unlike effects. Under given conditions national eclipses can be predicted as surely as the eclipses of the planets. _Los Angeles Times_, May 4, 1921. NAPOLEON'S CENTENNIAL The hundredth anniversary of the passing of Napoleon centers attention anew on one of the baffling figures of all time--a man at once attractive and repulsive; a soldier of infinite courage who on at least one occasion acted the coward; a master strategist who, to the last, seemed never to fully grasp that strategy by which he almost recast a world. He found Europe feudal and left it modern. He opened up new realms of knowledge to the servants; revolutionized military tactics; founded lasting industries; gave a new birth to French law; mocked and yet fostered freedom. More volumes have been written regarding him than any other character in history--one excepted. Nevertheless, he still remains the most elusive, the most unsatisfying genius that the world has ever known. His accomplishments have by this time been fully set forth and properly valued. We know that he stands practically alone as the greatest strategist of the ages. Cromwell, on a smaller scale and within a far more limited sphere, more nearly approaches him, perhaps, than does any other. We know also that he was an adroit politician and a statesman on a scale rarely equalled in Europe. He was also an orator and an adept at coining phrases. He was an executive of immense power and a man of tremendous personal charm. Of course, he was relentless, cruel, unscrupulous and all the rest of it, as we have been so often told. But, praise and blame aside, the question of the source of his power still remains the important thing. Certainly he was not great because he was a brilliant student, for, all in all, he was not deeply read. It could hardly be claimed that he was of the electric, assimilative type, for he would listen to no one and held opinions of others in contempt. He was not even a strong reasoner as the term is generally used. Wherein, then, lay that genius which makes him the outstanding Frenchman and one of the supreme personages of history? Apparently he was pre-eminent because, more than almost any man who ever lived, he had the power of harnessing his intuitive processes to his practical problems. He, it seems, was able to tap that vast, hidden and unsung reservoir of knowledge which is the epitome of all that the human mind has grasped and which, though flowing through the subconscious mind of all, is available in its entirety to but few--and then in all too brief flashes. The theory of the quality of the human mind, with its every-day, jerky reasoning powers and its submerged, smooth intuitions, finds its strongest support in such an individual. The subliminal mind, psychologists tell us, reaches out into daily life when the normal intelligence is in abeyance--as in sleep or profound relaxation. This subliminal (below the threshold) mind is swifter than the conscious mind and over-reaches it in a flash. It is practically unerring. It is controlled by laws not yet grasped to any great extent. It is hidden from life, yet rules it. Mystics have the gift, in varying degree, of allowing their subconscious minds to engulf and enfold them. The real poets have written in words that live because, unknowingly, they have fallen back on and given expression to the accumulated hopes and visions of the mind of man. The prophets have simply been those with the power to make their instincts vocal. Genius, in all its phases, is seemingly but the measure of the extent to which men coördinate their two minds, their instinct and their reason. Napoleon, in practically every crisis in which he functioned, struck those about him as being in a dazed and unnatural condition. He had those same periods of semi-stupefaction that characterized Cæsar, Paul, Alexander, Goethe, Lincoln and other exceptional men at the time of or immediately following a terrific use of their mental machinery. What, then, if, in the final analysis, it should be shown that Napoleon's greatness lay in the fact that he did not take his own mind or any other man's mind too seriously? Transcriber's notes: Obvious typographical errors corrected. Obvious Punctuation errors standardised. Page 333 "It is quite plan that": As per original. 
38372	----	THE CHARACTER OF THE JEW BOOKS Being, A Defence of The Natural Innocence of Man, Against Kings and Priests or Tyrants and Impostors BY PHILANTHROPOS London: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY R. CARLILE, 55, FLEET STREET. 1821. Price Twopence. THE CHARACTER OF THE JEW BOOKS Justice is due to all men; it is a gem that sheds a brilliant radiance upon the tyrant and the slave, upon the rich and the poor; Justice is in the moral world what the sun is in the physical, one illuminates the intellectual, the other the terrestrial system. By the standard of justice measure the rulers of the earth; try their actions, calculate their characters, weigh their governments in the balance of justice; when analyzed by this test and found unalloyed, grant unmeasured praise; if deficient, if tyranny, villainy, bigotry and cruelty preponderate, condemn them, and consign them to the execration of all mankind. Notwithstanding the exertions of Philosophy, and the undaunted perseverance of _a few men_, barbarity, cupidity and bigotry, generally prevail; the numerous devotees, the thronged congregation of rogues, slaves, and fools at the shrine of avarice, too frequently paralyze the efforts of liberal men; mean, pitiful, despicable traffic, has introduced mercantile ideas, and consequently _this nation of hucksters estimates merit in money_. The rich assume to be privileged, and unceasingly condemn and revile the industrious poor, as being vicious, immeasurably criminal, and abandoned to every moral offence: regardless of themselves, their families, their society, and their souls; let us enquire if those charges are just, if the poor are degenerated, if they have abandoned themselves to contempt, to degradation, to confinement, and to death; _let us endeavour to ascertain if the laws of nature are changed, let its endeavour to ascertain if the precepts of reason are revoked, let us endeavour to ascertain if death is preferred to life_. The poor are the most numerous, the most industrious, and the most useful part of society; should this portion, this staple part, this lever of the nation be so deserving of contempt, of execration, and of condemnation, as some puny-minded, rickety-headed fools would have us believe, much might be feared for the continued indissolubility of the nation; such as have monopolized the labour of the poor, and enjoy the rank of the privileged rich, incessantly insist that severe laws, vindictive tortures, and daily sanguinary executions would insure tranquility endangered, preserve religion scoffed, suppress blasphemy encouraged, strengthen monarchies loathed, despised, scorned, hated and execrated. The passions of distrust, revenge, fear, hatred, malice and cruelty distract the rich, that thrive by treachery, hypocrisy, tyranny and rapacity; conscious of turpitude, stung by remorse, alarmed for the safety of ill-gotten gains, the robbers and impostors are afraid the people will claim a restitution of rights and property. In investigating the origin of crime perhaps it will appear that the robbery and hypocrisy of King, and Priests, and Peers, have been the exciting cause, the immoderate agents, the operative principle, that called into action the criminal intention imputed to the poor; if such is proved, could any thing be more cruel, more shocking, more outrageous of common decency, than for the rich and privileged robbers, usurpers and impostors, to accuse the people of crimes they have been parties to, that they have promoted by rapine, encouraged by example; crimes that they may in effect have committed, for Kings and Peers and Priests unblushingly practise trades of fraud, imposition, and rapine, their titles admit their separation from men; experience proves they have inclination and capacity for any degree of villainy, the worst, the vilest, and the most detestable of men can invent; no disgrace can move, no contempt can stagger, no scorn can lower such as pollute the sanctuaries of the Church and Throne, as certain places are called. Survey man from his origin, from his birth, from his infancy, he enters the word without reflection, without will, without ideas; his mind can be formed, it can be moulded, it can be directed at pleasure; his ideas, his expressions, his actions, his life, are the result of his, education; his infancy, adolescence, his manhood, and his old age, are the consequence of his instruction; without internal or innate idea, without any indigenous or spontaneous mind he was nothing but from without: he has no ideas, no conceptions, but such as result from external impressions; if deficient organization has deprived him of sight, he knows nothing of colours; of hearing, nothing of sounds; of both, he is an idiot. If a male child is shut up in a dungeon and fed through a chink, from twelve months old, he would know nothing beyond his cell, nothing further than its walls; he would know nothing of Kings, or Priests, or Peers, or prayers, or tithes, or taxes, or blasphemy; he would know nothing beyond softness and hardness, roughness and smoothness, heat and cold; he would know nothing beyond experience, nothing but by examination, and could have no conception of any thing beyond his hearing, seeing, touching, tasting and smelling; he would only have conception of such things as would be produced by a combination of his few ideas; even the man in the world without information knows nothing about the superstition of Mahomet, of Zoroaster, of Brahma, and an _Old Jew_; the child in the dungeon would know nothing of the cruelty of _Jew Moses_, the licentious ferocity of David, or the amiable gallantry of Solomon; he would know nothing about the incest, the polygamy and murder of the Jew fellows, he would knew nothing beyond simple sensations; let the experiment be continued, let the subject be placed in another situation, let him be taken at ten years of age from his dungeon and placed in a disused cell unfrequented by any person but his keeper, his instructor, his director, a monk and a eunuch; let his keeper be directed to teach him nothing but the _Jew Books_, let all his information, let all his ideas, let all his impressions be from those famous books of law, of morality, and of religion; he will be taught that incest, adultery, fornication, hypocrisy, drunkenness, perjury, indecent exposure of women, rapine, and assassinations, are acts of religion, inculcated, enforced, patronized and practised, by Jew Kings and Jew Prophets, the chosen people of God; the subject could think of nothing but what resulted from his education, nothing but what was consistent with his theory; he could not speak of colours never seen, describe the people never known, prefer nations never heard of. Arrived under those exclusive impressions at puberty, sexual organization would be developed, a new ardour, a new stimulus, a new inclination would act. His mind would be filled with assassinations, with butcheries, with seductions and with debaucheries; now prepared, now surcharged with religious precepts, let him enter the world; his mind, his impressions, his actions would be formed upon the most sacred models, such as Moses, David and Solomon; he would be religiously prepossessed in favour of fraud, perjury, hypocrisy, incest, lust, perfidy and homicide; impressed with experience, impregnated with religion, with Jew Morality and sacred gibberish, he would act according to his experience, to his education, to his religion, and to his God; now set at liberty, impelled by his passions, irritated by opposition to his lust, his avarice, or his petulancy, he would, acting consistently and religiously, commit a rape, a robbery, or a murder, and offend against _human laws or the laws of reason_, and not those of religion; it would avail nothing even among Kings, Priests and Peers, to plead the injunctions, the precepts, the examples, and the dignity of Moses, of Abraham, of Lot, of Isaac, of David, or of Solomon; suppose he is under sentence of death, who brought him into that situation? Is he to blame, is he the architect of his case, is he the cause of his fate, is he the author of his misfortunes, is human nature to be blotted by such affairs, is he to be censured, execrated, and despised? Oh no! he is the victim of iniquity, the martyr of wrong impressions, of wrong education and of bigotry, he acted according to his education, to his religion and to his experience; instruction in falsehood, in error, and in injustice has been the cause, and the blame could only be annexed to the authors of fallacious principles, interested bigots, and venal hypocrites. Any one instructed to follow practically the horrid dogmas set forth in the _Jew Books_ would soon reach the gallows, would be soon covered with crimes, would be soon consigned to infamy, and the dignity of human nature would be traduced, would be vilified, would be denounced by every silly fool, every fanatical quack, every ignorant pretender to legislation, and every Arch-hypocrite would call aloud for vengeance upon the seduced. Man knows nothing of his infancy, he knows nothing but what he is taught, of the combination of ideas he has imbibed, consequently such as teach are answerable for the crimes, when the principles of education are false, and such are Kings, Priests and Legislators. Impostors unnecessarily make, religion an important feature in men's education, the people are obliged to hear, to read, told to reflect upon some ignorant, illiterate, confused, and cabalistical _Jew Books_*, as these books contain false, cruel; lying, bloody and obscene stories, and hold up, as religious and moral, most indecent examples of lechery and murder, so they are very improper, very dangerous books to put into the hands of the uneducated and of children. The _Jew Books_ will debauch the wife, seduce the maid, brutalize and mislead the son; the beastly maxims they inculcate, have been protected by the superstitious ignorance, and unreflecting barbarity of former venal bigoted Parliaments, whose ignorance would now disgrace the awl, or the spade; the intelligence of the age, however deficient, scorns the Gothic superstition of our forefathers; the hypocrites endeavour to enforce the jargon by the perversion of law, by the halter, by the torch, and by the sword; the intellectual dwarfs are laughed at when they call for everlasting wrath, and vow eternal perdition; anathemas, eliminations, and maledictions are ridiculed, as well as the rogue or fool that raves in the pulpit for his bread; where reason has not spread her rubies, false doctrines are dangerous; impressed upon vacant minds with such terrific emphasis and sordid assiduity, the youth and unsuspecting are corrupted; false doctrines are instilled into vacant minds, which are the precursors of crime. _Eclat_ is given to the cruelties, of Moses, the lewd butcheries of David, and the amours of Solomon; the Jew Books say, "God approves such acts," and such heroes are said to be men after God's own heart: the statutes, blasphemously of course, proscribe such royal adventures. Either the statutes, are irreverend and impious, or the Jew Book is irreverend; law, religion, reason, and the Bible are the opposites of each other, so that the supporters of what is now called law, are the destroyers of the Jew Books; the destroyers of the Jew Books are statute lawyers, or blasphemers, as reasoners are termed in ant phraseology. Rare inconsistency! * Sometimes called Bibles and Testaments. Man is the creature of the instruction received; intellectual impressions form his motives of action, he is necessitated to direct his life according to those impressions; the mind is moulded like clay by the potter, carved like marble by the sculptor; as the Jew Books contain the religion and morals of children, and as they are cruel, wicked, and vindictive, so children have criminal propensities excited by their existence; first impressions are adulterated, early habits are poisoned, and future life impregnated with villainy. So far from criminality being occasioned by neglect of Bible reading, as the ignorant, sordid hypocrite pretends, if it was more read, and education less mixed, men would be more debased, more perfidious, and more sanguinary. It is a matter of fact, it is known by experience, that since Bible Societies have been instituted, and Bible circulation widened, crimes have increased; the people have been more cruel, more brutal, more sanguinary, and more vindictive; the human mind has been poisoned, all the feelings of philanthropy have been blighted; if such gibberish should extend, the intelligence of the human mind will retrograde, and its element, a reign of Gothic ignorance predominate, omit the Bible part of education, and there will be fewer prostitutes, fewer debauchees, fewer perjurers, fewer tyrants, and fewer murderers; it is this part of education that pollutes and contaminates the essence of charity, and mildews all the flowers of intellectual cultivation; this is the source of the present barbarous schemes of government, idolized by rogues, and allowed by fools; the Jew Books are the prolific origin of the cruelty, the treachery, the avarice, and bloody-mindedness of Kings, Peers and Priests, and all the _coterie_ of impostors; they collect, they coalesce, they conspire to mislead, to dupe, to rule, to rob and degrade an unsuspecting and innocent people; a spontaneous course, a common object, a fellow feeling, bind together the plunderers and oppressors of mankind. If the people were instructed in morality, in justice, and in equity, they would see the robbery, the oppression, the intolerance, and villainy of Kings, Priests and Peers; if intelligence lead the people to see injustice, a spontaneous breath would remove it, and regal and sacked impostors cease to oppress; morality and justice should be the fundamental principles of education, then would men annihilate the baneful despotisms of Kings, and Priests; they would no longer support, no longer vindicate, no longer permit to exist, the canting slothful hypocrisy of voracious privileged impostors; such villains devour the produce of other men's toil, laugh at what themselves profess, without care, except to propagate and to continue, the simplicity, the ignorance, credulity and superstition, of a devoted, a plundered and inoffensive people; how can men listen to the precepts, or be persuaded by, the example of impostors, who spend their lives in licentiousness, in debauchery, in fornication, in drunkenness, and in sacred swindling? If men follow the example of impostors, abounding in nothing but infamy, they cease to have claims as citizens upon society, they forfeit every claim to credit, to justice, and the laws; they are the pests, the terror, and the disgrace of each other. The impostors demand the people to pay attention to the Jew Books, because the Jew Books recommend tribute and tithes; this code of the hypocrites is calculated to advance the intolerance of despots, and rapacity of priests; if the people followed some Scripture examples, and adopted as perfection the models preached up by the priests, they would be daily conspiring against Kings or tyrants, slaying their brothers, sleeping with their fathers' wives, debauching their sisters and daughters? in short, there would, be nothing but adultery, licentiousness, perjury, conspiracy, cruelty, perfidy, and murder; all those crimes would be the consequence of adhesion to the Jew Books; yet if the people do act like Jew-Book heroes, if they do commit any one crime, if either avarice or delusion excite to violence, they are accused of not having the fear of God before their eyes, of not having attended to the _tithe-catching_ advice of Priests, and their books; but of being actuated by irreligious, profane, blasphemous, and diabolical motives; the dogmas of Priests and the Laws constantly dash, and while reason suffers the _tithe-eating corporation_ to exist, legislation must be necessarily imperfect; it is impossible for the people to follow the law and the Bible; notwithstanding the suspicion of the Priests, the laws will act in contradiction to the Bible. Men are the creatures of education, they act consistently with what they are taught; impostors and fools promulgating false principles are amenable to reason, and they should be to laws made by the whole of the people; men are criminal in consequence of a fallacious education adopted by regal and religious impostors, with a view of reaping other meu's harvests; the object is firstly, to debase, to enslave, to degrade the mind, and secondly, to plunder the victim; such scoundrels constantly preach up the deficiency of human nature, that more authority may be granted to those earthly saviours; a nation governed by Kings and Priests must be always in a state, of barbarism, of shameful indifference, and of crime; such nations are inhabited by an inferior race of men, when it may be presumed only a few scintillations of Philosophy have reached; States governed by Kings and Priests show the sun of reason is still below the horizon; if human nature is criminal in appearance, it is not so in fact, such cases are confounded with the errors of educators, which are instilled into man from the moment of his birth; if he is ever revengeful, vindictive, and sanguinary, attribute it to the licensed villains that blot the face, of the earth; reflect upon this you pampered; you bloated impostors, who riot upon the poor man's industry; you hypocrites, who carouse upon the sweat of his brow, and who sack the spoil of the criminal your rapacity has created; _Tyrants and impostors! remember you are splendid at the expence of honesty, pain, disease and death_; Give the people justice, and they will be laborious; if they are laborious, they must have plenty; and if they have plenty, they will be honest; men are naturally innocent, passive and pacific; false information and injustice are the sources of violence and crime; remember this, you corporate impostors and tyrants, and correct your own errors before you brand the innocent with infamy. Cast the beams out of your own eyes before you shed your acrimonious calumny upon the virtuous and the just. 
12291	----	THE TEACHER. * * * * * MORAL INFLUENCES EMPLOYED IN THE INSTRUCTION AND GOVERNMENT OF THE YOUNG. A NEW AND REVISED EDITION. BY JACOB ABBOTT. With Engravings. 1873. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty-six, by HARPER & BROTHERS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. PREFACE. This book is intended to detail, in a familiar and practical manner, a system of arrangements for the organization and management of a school, based on the employment, so far as is practicable, of _Moral Influences_, as a means of effecting the objects in view. Its design is, not to bring forward new theories or new plans, but to develop and explain, and to carry out to their practical applications such principles as, among all skillful and experienced teachers, are generally admitted and acted upon. Of course it is not designed for the skillful and experienced themselves, but it is intended to embody what they already know, and to present it in a practical form for the use of those who are beginning the work, and who wish to avail themselves of the experience which others have acquired. Although moral influences are the chief foundations on which the power of the teacher over the minds and hearts of his pupils is, according to this treatise, to rest, still it must not be imagined that the system here recommended is one of persuasion. It is a system of authority--supreme and unlimited authority--a point essential in all plans for the supervision of the young; but it is authority secured and maintained as far as possible by moral measures. There will be no dispute about the propriety of making the most of this class of means. Whatever difference of opinion there may be on the question whether physical force is necessary at all, every one will agree that, if ever employed, it must be only as a last resort, and that no teacher ought to make war upon the body, unless it is proved that he can not conquer through the medium of the mind. In regard to the anecdotes and narratives which are very freely introduced to illustrate principles in this work, the writer ought to state that, though they are all substantially true--that is, all except those which are expressly introduced as mere suppositions, he has not hesitated to alter very freely, for obvious reasons, the unimportant circumstances connected with them. He has endeavored thus to destroy the personality of the narratives without injuring or altering their moral effect. From the very nature of our employment, and of the circumstances under which the preparation for it must be made, it is plain that, of the many thousands who are in the United States annually entering the work, a very large majority must depend for all their knowledge of the art, except what they acquire from their own observation and experience, on what they can obtain from books. It is desirable that the class of works from which such knowledge can be obtained should be increased. Some excellent and highly useful specimens have already appeared, and very many more would be eagerly read by teachers, if properly prepared. It is essential, however, that they should be written by experienced teachers, who have for some years been actively engaged and specially interested in the work; that they should be written in a very practical and familiar style, and that they should exhibit principles which are unquestionably true, and generally admitted by good teachers, and not the new theories peculiar to the writer himself. In a word, utility and practical effect should be the only aim. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. INTEREST IN TEACHING. Source of enjoyment in teaching.--The boy and the steam-engine.--His contrivance.--His pleasure, and the source of it.--Firing at the mark.--Plan of clearing the galleries in the British House of Commons.--Pleasure of experimenting, and exercising intellectual and moral power.--The indifferent and inactive teacher.--His subsequent experiments; means of awakening interest.--Offenses of pupils. --Different ways of regarding them. Teaching really attended with peculiar trials and difficulties.--1. Moral responsibility for the conduct of pupils.--2. Multiplicity of the objects of attention. CHAPTER II. GENERAL ARRANGEMENTS. Objects to be aimed at in the general arrangements.--Systematizing the teacher's work.--Necessity of having only one thing to attend to at a time. 1. Whispering and leaving seats.--An experiment.--Method of regulating this.--Introduction of the new plan.--Difficulties.--Dialogue with pupils.--Study-card.--Construction and use. 2. Mending pens.--Unnecessary trouble from this source.--Degree of importance to be attached to good pens.--Plan for providing them. 3. Answering questions.--Evils.--Each pupil's fair proportion of time.--Questions about lessons.--When the teacher should refuse to answer them.--Rendering assistance.--When to be refused. 4. Hearing recitations.--Regular arrangement of them.--Punctuality.--Plan and schedule.--General exercises.--Subjects to be attended to at them. General arrangements of government.--Power to be delegated to pupils.--Gardiner Lyceum.--Its government.--The trial.--Real republican government impracticable in schools.--Delegated power.--Experiment with the writing-books.--Quarrel about the nail.--Offices for pupils.--Cautions.--Danger of insubordination.--New plans to be introduced gradually. CHAPTER III. INSTRUCTION. The three important branches.--The objects which are really most important.--Advanced scholars.--Examination of school and scholars at the outset.--Acting on numbers.--Extent to which it may be carried.--Recitation and Instruction. 1. Recitation.--Its object.--Importance of a thorough examination of the class.--Various modes.--Perfect regularity and order necessary. --Example.--Story of the pencils.--Time wasted by too minute an attention to individuals.--Example.--Answers given simultaneously to save time.--Excuses.--Dangers in simultaneous recitation.--Means of avoiding them.--Advantages of this mode.--Examples.--Written answers. 2. Instruction.--Means of exciting interest.--Variety.--Examples.--Showing the connection between the studies of school and the business of life.--Example from the controversy between general and state governments.--Mode of illustrating it.--Proper way of meeting difficulties.--Leading pupils to surmount them.--True way to encourage the young to meet difficulties.--The boy and the wheel-barrow.--Difficult examples in arithmetic. Proper way of rendering assistance.--(1.) Simply analyzing intricate subjects.--Dialogue on longitude.--(2.) Making previous truths perfectly familiar.--Experiment with the multiplication table.--Latin Grammar lesson.--Geometry. 3. General cautions.--Doing work _for_ the scholar.--Dullness.--Interest in _all_ the pupils.--Making all alike.--Faults of pupils.--The teacher's own mental habits.--False pretensions. CHAPTER IV. MORAL DISCIPLINE. First impressions.--Story.--Danger of devoting too much attention to individual instances.--The profane boy.--Case described.--Confession of the boys.--Success.--The untidy desk.--Measures in consequence. --Interesting the scholars in the good order of the school.--Securing a majority.--Example.--Reports about the desks.--The new College building.--Modes of interesting the boys.--The irregular class.--Two ways of remedying the evil.--Boys' love of system and regularity. --Object of securing a majority, and particular means of doing it.--Making school pleasant.--Discipline should generally be private.--In all cases that are brought before the school, public opinion in the teacher's favor should be secured.--Story of the rescue.--Feelings of displeasure against what is wrong.--The teacher under moral obligation, and governed, himself, by law.--Description of the _Moral Exercise_.--Prejudice.--The scholars' written remarks, and the teacher's comments.--The spider.--List of subjects.--Anonymous writing.--Specimens.--Marks of a bad scholar.--Consequences of being behindhand.--New scholars.--A satirical spirit.--Variety. Treatment of individual offenders.--Ascertaining who they are.--Studying their characters.--Securing their personal attachment.--Asking assistance.--The whistle.--Open, frank dealing.--Example.--Dialogue with James.--Communications in writing. CHAPTER V. RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE. The American mechanic at Paris.--A Congregational teacher among Quakers.--Parents have the ultimate right to decide how their children shall be educated. Agreement in religious opinion in this country.--Principle which is to guide the teacher on this subject.--Limits and restrictions to religious influence in school.--Religious truths which are generally admitted in this country.--The existence of God.--Human responsibility.--Immortality of the soul.--A revelation.--Nature of piety.--Salvation by Christ.--Teacher to do nothing on this subject but what he may do by the common consent of his employers.--Reasons for explaining distinctly these limits. Particular measures proposed.--Opening exercises.--Prayer.--Singing. --Direct instruction.--Mode of giving it.--Example; arrangement of the Epistles in the New Testament.--Dialogue.--Another example; scene in the woods.--Cautions.--Affected simplicity of language.--Evils of it.--Minute details.--Example; motives to study.--Dialogue.--Mingling religious influence with the direct discipline of the school.--Fallacious indications of piety.--Sincerity of the teacher. CHAPTER VI. MOUNT VERNON SCHOOL. Reason for inserting the description.--Advantage of visiting schools, and of reading descriptions of them.--Addressed to a new scholar.--Her personal duty.--Study-card.--Rule.--But one rule.--Cases when this rule maybe waived.--1. At the direction of teachers.--2. On extraordinary emergencies.--Reasons for the rule.--Anecdote.--Punishments.--Incidents described.--Confession. 2. Order of daily exercises.--Opening of the school.--Schedules.--Hours of study and recess.--General exercises.--Business.--Examples.--Sections. 3. Instruction and supervision of pupils.--Classes.--Organization.--Sections.--Duties of superintendents. 4. Officers.--Design in appointing them.--Their names and duties.--Example of the operation of the system. 5. The court.--Its plan and design.--A trial described. 6. Religious instruction.--Principles inculcated.--Measures.--Religious exercises in school.--Meeting on Saturday afternoon.--Concluding remarks. CHAPTER VII. SCHEMING. Time lost upon fruitless schemes.--Proper province of ingenuity and enterprise.--Cautions.--Case supposed.--The spelling class; an experiment with it; its success and its consequences.--System of literary institutions in this country.--Directions to a young teacher on the subject of forming new plans.--New institutions; new schoolbooks.--Ingenuity and enterprise very useful, within proper limits.--Ways of making known new plans.--Periodicals.--Family newspapers.--Teachers' meetings. Rights of committees, trustees, or patrons, in the control of the school.--Principle which ought to govern.--Case supposed.--Extent to which the teacher is bound by the wishes of his employers. CHAPTER VIII. REPORTS OF CASES. Plan of the chapter.--Hats and bonnets.--Injury to clothes.--Mistakes which are not censurable.--Tardiness; plan for punishing it.--Helen's lesson.--Firmness in measures united with mildness of manner.--Insincere confession: scene in a class.--Court.--Trial of a case.--Teacher's personal character.--The way to elevate the character of the employment.--Six hours only to be devoted to school.--The chestnut burr.--Scene in the wood.--Dialogue in school.--An experiment.--Series of lessons in writing.--The correspondence.--Two kinds of management.--Plan of weekly reports.--The shopping exercise. --Example.--Artifices in recitations.--Keeping resolution notes of teacher's lecture.--Topics.--Plan and illustration of the exercise. --Introduction of music.--Tabu.--Mental analysis.--Scene in a class. CHAPTER IX. THE TEACHER'S FIRST DAY. Embarrassments of young teachers in first entering upon their duties.--Preliminary information to be acquired in respect to the school.--Visits to the parents.--Making acquaintance with the scholars.--Opening the school.--Mode of setting the scholars at work on the first day.--No sudden changes to be made.--Misconduct.--Mode of disposing of the cases of it.--Conclusion. THE TEACHER. CHAPTER I. INTEREST IN TEACHING. A most singular contrariety of opinion prevails in the community in regard to the _pleasantness_ of the business of teaching. Some teachers go to their daily task merely upon compulsion; they regard it as intolerable drudgery. Others love the work: they hover around the school-room as long as they can, and never cease to think, and seldom to talk, of their delightful labors. Unfortunately, there are too many of the former class, and the first object which, in this work, I shall attempt to accomplish, is to show my readers, especially those who have been accustomed to look upon the business of teaching as a weary and heartless toil, how it happens that it is, in any case, so pleasant. The human mind is always essentially the same. That which is tedious and joyless to one, will be so to another, if pursued in the same way, and under the same circumstances. And teaching, if it is pleasant, animating, and exciting to one, may be so to all. I am met, however, at the outset, in my effort to show why it is that teaching is ever a pleasant work, by the want of a name for a certain faculty or capacity of the human mind, through which most of the enjoyment of teaching finds its avenue. Every mind is so constituted as to take a positive pleasure in the exercise of ingenuity in adapting means to an end, and in watching the operation of them--in accomplishing by the intervention of instruments what we could not accomplish without--in devising (when we see an object to be effected which is too great for our _direct_ and _immediate_ power) and setting at work some _instrumentality_ which may be sufficient to accomplish it. [Illustration: Steam Engine] It is said that when the steam-engine was first put into operation, such was the imperfection of the machinery, that a boy was necessarily stationed at it to open and shut alternately the cock by which the steam was now admitted and now shut out from the cylinder. One such boy, after patiently doing his work for many days, contrived to connect this stop-cock with some of the moving parts of the engine by a wire, in such a manner that the engine itself did the work which had been intrusted to him; and after seeing that the whole business would go regularly forward, he left the wire in charge, and went away to play. Such is the story. Now if it is true, how much pleasure the boy must have experienced in devising and witnessing the successful operation of his scheme. I do not mean the pleasure of relieving himself from a dull and wearisome duty; I do not mean the pleasure of anticipated play; but I mean the strong interest he must have taken in _contriving and executing his plan_. When, wearied out with his dull, monotonous work, he first noticed those movements of the machinery which he thought adapted to his purpose, and the plan flashed into his mind, how must his eye have brightened, and how quick must the weary listlessness of his employment have vanished. While he was maturing his plan and carrying it into execution--while adjusting his wires, fitting them to the exact length and to the exact position--and especially when, at last, he began to watch the first successful operation of his contrivance, he must have enjoyed a pleasure which very few even of the joyous sports of childhood could have supplied. It is not, however, exactly the pleasure of exercising _ingenuity in contrivance_ that I refer to here; for the teacher has not, after all, a great deal of absolute _contriving_ to do, or, rather, his _principal business_ is not contriving. The greatest and most permanent source of pleasure to the boy, in such a case as I have described, is his feeling that he is accomplishing a great effect by a slight effort of his own; the feeling of _power_; acting through the _intervention of instrumentality_, so as to multiply his power. So great would be this satisfaction, that he would almost wish to have some other similar work assigned him, that he might have another opportunity to contrive some plan for its easy accomplishment. Looking at an object to be accomplished, or an evil to be remedied, then studying its nature and extent, and devising and executing some means for effecting the purpose desired, is, in all cases, a source of pleasure; especially when, by the process, we bring to view or into operation new powers, or powers heretofore hidden, whether they are our own powers, or those of objects upon which we act. Experimenting has a sort of magical fascination for all. Some do not like the trouble of making preparations, but all are eager to see the results. Contrive a new machine, and every body will be interested to witness or to hear of its operation. Develop any heretofore unknown properties of matter, or secure some new useful effect from laws which men have not hitherto employed for their purposes, and the interest of all around you will be excited to observe your results; and, especially, you will yourself take a deep and permanent pleasure in guiding and controlling the power you have thus obtained. This is peculiarly the case with experiments upon mind, or experiments for producing effects through the medium of voluntary acts of others, making it necessary that the contriver should take into consideration the laws of mind in forming his plans. To illustrate this by rather a childish case: I once knew a boy who was employed by his father to remove all the loose small stones, which, from the peculiar nature of the ground, had accumulated in the road before the house. The boy was set at work by his father to take them up, and throw them over into the pasture across the way. He soon got tired of picking up the stones one by one, and so he sat down upon the bank to try to devise some better means of accomplishing his work. He at length conceived and adopted the following plan: He set up in the pasture a narrow board for a target, or, as boys would call it, a mark, and then, collecting all the boys of the neighborhood, he proposed to them an amusement which boys are always ready for--firing at a mark. The stones in the road furnished the ammunition, and, of course, in a very short time the road was cleared; the boys working for the accomplishment of their leader's task, when they supposed they were only finding amusement for themselves. Here, now, is experimenting upon the mind--the production of useful effect with rapidity and ease by the intervention of proper instrumentality--the conversion, by means of a little knowledge of human nature, of that which would have otherwise been dull and fatiguing labor into a most animating sport, giving pleasure to twenty instead of tedious labor to one. Now the contrivance and execution of such plans is a source of positive pleasure. It is always pleasant to bring even the properties and powers of matter into requisition to promote our designs; but there is a far higher pleasure in controlling, and guiding, and moulding to our purpose the movements of mind. It is this which gives interest to the plans and operation of human governments. Governments can, in fact, do little by actual force. Nearly all the power that is held, even by the most despotic executive, must be based on an adroit management of the principles of human nature, so as to lead men voluntarily to co-operate with the leader in his plans. Even an army could not be got into battle, in many cases, without a most ingenious arrangement, by means of which half a dozen men can drive, literally drive, as many thousands into the very face of danger and death. The difficulty of leading men to battle must have been, for a long time, a very perplexing one to generals. It was at last removed by the very simple expedient of creating a greater danger behind than there is before. Without ingenuity of contrivance like this, turning one principle of human nature against another, and making it for the momentary interest of men to act in a given way, no government could stand. I know of nothing which illustrates more perfectly the way by which a knowledge of human nature is to be turned to account in managing human minds than a plan which was adopted for clearing the galleries of the British House of Commons many years ago, before the present Houses of Parliament were built. There was then, as now, a gallery appropriated to spectators, and it was customary to require these visitors to retire when a vote was to be taken or private business was to be transacted. When the officer in attendance was ordered to clear the gallery, it was sometimes found to be a very troublesome and slow operation; for those who first went out remained obstinately as close to the doors as possible, so as to secure the opportunity to come in again first when the doors should be re-opened. The consequence was, there was so great an accumulation around the doors outside, that it was almost impossible for the crowd to get out. The whole difficulty arose from the eager desire of every one to remain as near as possible to the door, _through which they were to come back again_. Notwithstanding the utmost efforts of the officers, fifteen minutes were sometimes consumed in effecting the object, when the order was given that the spectators should retire. The whole difficulty was removed by a very simple plan. One door only was opened when the crowd was to retire, and they were then admitted, when the gallery was opened again, through _the other_. The consequence was, that as soon as the order was given to clear the galleries, every one fled as fast as possible through the open door around to the one which was closed, so as to be ready to enter first, when that, in its turn, should be opened. This was usually in a few minutes, as the purpose for which the spectators were ordered to retire was in most cases simply to allow time for taking a vote. Here it will be seen that, by the operation of a very simple plan, the very eagerness of the crowd to get back as soon as possible, which had been the _sole cause of the difficulty_, was turned to account most effectually to the removal of it. Before, the first that went out were so eager to return, that they crowded around the door of egress in such a manner as to prevent others going out; but by this simple plan of ejecting them by one door and admitting them by another, that very eagerness made them clear the passage at once, and caused every one to hurry away into the lobby the moment the command was given. The planner of this scheme must have taken great pleasure in witnessing its successful operation; though the officer who should go steadily on, endeavoring to remove the reluctant throng by dint of mere driving, might well have found his task unpleasant. But the exercise of ingenuity in studying the nature of the difficulty with which a man has to contend, and bringing in some antagonist principle of human nature to remove it, or, if not an antagonist principle, a similar principle, operating, by a peculiar arrangement of circumstances, in an antagonist manner, is always pleasant. From this source a large share of the enjoyment which men find in the active pursuits of life has its origin. The teacher has the whole field which this subject opens fully before him. He has human nature to deal with most directly. His whole work is one of experimenting upon mind; and the mind which is before him to be the subject of his operation is exactly in the state to be most easily and pleasantly operated upon. The reason now why some teachers find their work delightful, and some find it wearisomeness and tedium itself, is that some do and some do not take this view of the nature of it. One instructor is like the engine-boy, turning, without cessation or change, his everlasting stop-cock, in the same ceaseless, mechanical, and monotonous routine. Another is like the little workman in his brighter moments, arranging his invention, and watching with delight the successful and easy accomplishment of his wishes by means of it. One is like the officer, driving by vociferations, and threats, and demonstrations of violence, the spectators from the galleries. The other like the shrewd contriver, who converts the very desire to return, which was the sole cause of the difficulty, to a most successful and efficient means of its removal. These principles show how teaching may, in some cases, be a delightful employment, while in others its tasteless dullness is interrupted by nothing but its perplexities and cares. The school-room is in reality a little empire of mind. If the one who presides in it sees it in its true light; studies the nature and tendency of the minds which he has to control; adapts his plans and his measures to the laws of human nature, and endeavors to accomplish his purposes for them, not by mere labor and force, but by ingenuity and enterprise, he will take pleasure in administering his little government. He will watch, with care and interest, the operation of the moral and intellectual causes which he sets in operation, and find, as he accomplishes his various objects with increasing facility and power, that he will derive a greater and greater pleasure from his work. Now when a teacher thus looks upon his school as a field in which he is to exercise skill, and ingenuity, and enterprise; when he studies the laws of human nature, and the character of those minds upon which he has to act; when he explores deliberately the nature of the field which he has to cultivate, and of the objects which he wishes to accomplish, and applies means judiciously and skillfully adapted to the object, he must necessarily take a strong interest in his work. But when, on the other hand, he goes to his employment only to perform a certain regular round of daily toil, undertaking nothing and anticipating nothing but this dull and unchangeable routine, and when he looks upon his pupils merely as passive objects of his labors, whom he is to treat with simple indifference while they obey his commands, and to whom he is only to apply reproaches and punishment when they do wrong, such a teacher never can take pleasure in the school. Weariness and dullness must reign in both master and scholars when things, as he imagines, are going right, and mutual anger and crimination when they go wrong. [Illustration: School Master] Scholars never can be successfully instructed by the power of any dull mechanical routine, nor can they be properly governed by the blind, naked strength of the master; such means must fail of the accomplishment of the purposes designed, and consequently the teacher who tries such a course must have constantly upon his mind the discouraging, disheartening burden of unsuccessful and almost useless labor. He is continually uneasy, dissatisfied, and filled with anxious cares, and sources of vexation and perplexity continually arise. He attempts to remove evils by waging against them a useless and most vexatious warfare of threatening and punishment; and he is trying continually _to drive_, when he might know that neither the intellect nor the heart are capable of being driven. I will simply state one case, to illustrate what I mean by the difference between blind force and active ingenuity and enterprise in the management of school. I once knew the teacher of a school who made it his custom to have writing attended to in the afternoon. The school was in the country, and it was the old times when quills, instead of steel pens, were universally used. The boys were accustomed to take their places at the appointed hour, and each one would set up his pen in the front of his desk for the teacher to come and mend them. The teacher would accordingly pass around the school-room, mending the pens, from desk to desk, thus enabling the boys, in succession, to begin their task. Of course, each boy, before the teacher came to his desk, was necessarily idle, and, almost necessarily, in mischief. Day after day the teacher went through this regular routine. He sauntered slowly and listlessly through the aisles, and among the benches of the room, wherever he saw the signal of a pen. He paid, of course, very little attention to the writing, now and then reproving, with an impatient tone, some extraordinary instance of carelessness, or leaving his work to suppress some rising disorder. Ordinarily, however, he seemed to be lost in vacancy of thought, dreaming, perhaps, of other scenes, or inwardly repining at the eternal monotony and tedium of a teacher's life. His boys took no interest in their work, and of course made no progress. They were sometimes unnecessarily idle, and sometimes mischievous, but never usefully or pleasantly employed, for the whole hour was passed before the pens could all be brought down. Wasted time, blotted books, and fretted tempers were all the results which the system produced. The same teacher afterward acted on a very different principle. He looked over the field, and said to himself, "What are the objects which I wish to accomplish in this writing exercise, and how can I best accomplish them? I wish to obtain the greatest possible amount of industrious and careful practice in writing. The first thing evidently is to save the wasted time." He accordingly made preparation for mending the pens at a previous hour, so that all should be ready, at the appointed time, to commence the work together. This could be done quite as conveniently when the boys were engaged in studying, by requesting them to put out their pens at an appointed and _previous_ time. He sat at his table, and the pens of a whole bench were brought to him, and, after being carefully mended, were returned, to be in readiness for the writing hour. Thus the first difficulty, the loss of time, was obviated. "I must make them _industrious_ while they write," was his next thought. After thinking of a variety of methods, he determined to try the following: he required all to begin together at the top of the page, and write the same line, in a hand of the same size. They were all required to begin together, he himself beginning at the same time, and writing about as fast as he thought they ought to write in order to secure the highest improvement. When he had finished his line, he ascertained how many had preceded him and how many were behind. He requested the first to write slower, and the others faster; and by this means, after a few trials, he secured uniform, regular, systematic, and industrious employment throughout the school. Probably there were, at first, difficulties in the operation of the plan, which he had to devise ways and means to surmount; but what I mean to present particularly to the reader is, that he was _interested in his experiments_. While sitting in his desk, giving his command to _begin_ line after line, and noticing the unbroken silence, and attention, and interest which prevailed (for each boy was interested to see how nearly with the master he could finish his work), while presiding over such a scene he must have been interested. He must have been pleased with the exercise of his almost military command, and to witness how effectually order and industry, and excited and pleased attention, had taken the place of listless idleness and mutual dissatisfaction. After a few days, he appointed one of the older and more judicious scholars to give the word for beginning and ending the lines, and he sat surveying the scene, or walking from desk to desk, noticing faults, and considering what plans he could form for securing more and more fully the end he had in view. He found that the great object of interest and attention among the boys was to come out right, and that less pains were taken with the formation of the letters than there ought to be to secure the most rapid improvement. But how shall he secure greater pains? By stern commands and threats? By going from desk to desk, scolding one, rapping the knuckles of another, and holding up to ridicule a third, making examples of such individuals as may chance to attract his special attention? No; he has learned that he is operating upon a little empire of mind, and that he is not to endeavor to drive them as a man drives a herd, by mere peremptory command or half angry blows. He must study the nature of the effect that he is to produce, and of the materials upon which he is to work, and adopt, after mature deliberation, a plan to accomplish his purpose founded upon the principles which ought always to regulate the action of mind upon mind, and adapted to produce the _intellectual effect_ which he wishes to accomplish. In the case supposed, the teacher concluded to appeal to emulation. While I describe the measure he adopted, let it be remembered that I am now only approving of the resort to ingenuity and invention, and the employment of moral and intellectual means for the accomplishment of his purposes, and not of the measures themselves. I am not sure the plan I am going to describe is a wise one; but I am sure that the teacher, while trying it, must _have been interested in his intellectual experiment._ His business, while pursued in such a way, could not have been a mere dull and uninteresting routine. He purchased, for three cents apiece, two long lead pencils--an article of great value in the opinion of the boys of country schools--and he offered them, as prizes, to the boy who would write most carefully; not to the one who should write _best_, but to the one whose book should exhibit most appearance of _effort_ and _care_ for a week. After announcing his plan, he watched with strong interest its operation. He walked round the room while the writing was in progress, to observe the effect of his measure. He did not reprove those who were writing carelessly; he simply noticed who and how many they were. He did not commend those who were evidently making effort; he noticed who and how many they were, that he might understand how far, and upon what sort of minds, his experiment was successful, and where it failed. He was taking a lesson in human nature--human nature as it exhibits itself in boys--and was preparing to operate more and more powerfully by future plans. The lesson which he learned by the experiment was this, that one or two prizes will not influence the majority of a large school. A few of the boys seemed to think that the pencils were possibly within their reach, and _they_ made vigorous efforts to secure them; but the rest wrote on as before. Thinking it certain that they should be surpassed by the others, they gave up the contest at once in despair. The obvious remedy was to _multiply_ his prizes, so as to bring one of them within the reach of all. He reflected, too, that the real prize, in such a case, is not the value of the pencil, but the _honor of the victory_; and as the honor of the victory might as well be coupled with an object of less, as well as with one of greater value, the next week he divided his two pencils into quarters, and offered to his pupils eight prizes instead of two. He offered one to every five scholars, as they sat on their benches, and every boy then saw that a reward would certainly come within five of him. His chance, accordingly, instead of being one in twenty, became one in five. Now is it possible for a teacher, after having philosophized upon the nature of the minds upon which he is operating, and surveyed the field, and ingeniously formed a plan, which plan he hopes will, through his own intrinsic power, produce certain effects--is it possible for him, when he comes, for the first day, to witness its operations, to come without feeling a strong interest in the result? It is not possible. After having formed such a plan, and made such arrangements, he will look forward almost with impatience to the next writing-hour. He wishes to see whether he has estimated the mental capacities and tendencies of his little community aright; and when the time comes, and he surveys the scene, and observes the operation of his measure, and sees many more are reached by it than were influenced before, he feels a strong gratification, and it is a gratification which is founded upon the noblest principles of our nature. He is tracing, on a most interesting field, the operation of cause and effect. From being the mere drudge, who drives, without intelligence or thought, a score or two of boys to their daily tasks, he rises to the rank of an intellectual philosopher, exploring the laws and successfully controlling the tendencies of mind. It will be observed, too, that all the time this teacher was performing these experiments, and watching with intense interest the results, his pupils were going on undisturbed in their pursuits. The exercises in writing were not interrupted or deranged. This is a point of fundamental importance; for, if what I should say on the subject of exercising ingenuity and contrivance in teaching should be the means, in any case, of leading a teacher to break in upon the regular duties of his school, and destroy the steady uniformity with which the great objects of such an institution should be pursued, my remarks had better never have been written. There may be variety in methods and plan, but, through all this variety, the school, and every individual pupil of it, must go steadily forward in the acquisition of that knowledge which is of greatest importance in the business of future life. In other words, the variations and changes admitted by the teacher ought to be mainly confined to the modes of accomplishing those permanent objects to which all the exercises and arrangements of the school ought steadily to aim. More on this subject, however, in another chapter. I will mention one other circumstance, which will help to explain the difference in interest and pleasure with which teachers engage in their work. I mean the different views they take _of the offenses of their pupils_. One class of teachers seem never to make it a part of their calculation that their pupils will do wrong, and when, any misconduct occurs they are discontented and irritated, and look and act as if some unexpected occurrence had broken in upon their plans. Others understand and consider all this beforehand. They seem to think a little, before they go into their school, what sort of beings boys and girls are, and any ordinary case of youthful delinquency or dullness does not surprise them. I do not mean that they treat such cases with indifference or neglect, but that they _expect_ them, and _are prepared for them_. Such a teacher knows that boys and girls are the _materials_ he has to work upon, and he takes care to make himself acquainted with these materials, _just as they are_. The other class, however, do not seem to know at all what sort of beings they have to deal with, or, if they know, do not _consider_. They expect from them what is not to be obtained, and then are disappointed and vexed at the failure. It is as if a carpenter should attempt to support an entablature by pillars of wood too small and weak for the weight, and then go on, from week to week, suffering anxiety and irritation as he sees them swelling and splitting under the burden, and finding fault _with the wood_ instead of taking it to himself; or as if a plowman were to attempt to work a hard and stony piece of ground with a poor team and a small plow, and then, when overcome by the difficulties of the task, should vent his vexation and anger in laying the blame on the ground instead of on the inadequate and insufficient instrumentality which he had provided for subduing it. [Illustration] It is, of course, one essential part of a man's duty, in engaging in any undertaking, whether it will lead him to act upon matter or upon mind, to become first well acquainted with the circumstances of the case, the materials he is to act upon, and the means which he may reasonably expect to have at his command. If he underrates his difficulties, or overrates the power of his means of overcoming them, it is his mistake--a mistake for which _he_ is fully responsible. Whatever may be the nature of the effect which he aims at accomplishing, he ought fully to understand it, and to appreciate justly the difficulties which lie in the way. Teachers, however, very often overlook this. A man comes home from his school at night perplexed and irritated by the petty misconduct which he has witnessed, and been trying to check. He does not, however, look forward and endeavor to prevent the occasions of such misconduct, adapting his measures to the nature of the material upon which he has to operate, but he stands, like the carpenter at his columns, making himself miserable in looking at it after it occurs, and wondering what to do. "Sir," we might say to him, "what is the matter?" "Why, I have such boys I can do nothing with them. Were it not for _their misconduct_, I might have a very good school." "Were it not for their misconduct? Why, is there any peculiar depravity in them which you could not have foreseen?" "No; I suppose they are pretty much like all other boys," he replies, despairingly; "they are all hair-brained and unmanageable. The plans I have formed for my school would be excellent if my boys would only behave properly." "Excellent plans," might we not reply, "and yet not adapted to the materials upon which they are to operate! No. It is your business to know what sort of beings boys are, and to make your calculations accordingly." Two teachers may therefore manage their schools in totally different ways, so that one of them may necessarily find the business a dull, mechanical routine, except as it is occasionally varied by perplexity and irritation, and the other a prosperous and happy employment. The one goes on mechanically the same, and depends for his power on violence, or on threats and demonstrations of violence. The other brings all his ingenuity and enterprise into the field to accomplish a steady purpose by means ever varying, and depends for his power on his knowledge of human nature, and on the adroit adaptation of plans to her fixed and uniform tendencies. I am very sorry, however, to be obliged to say that probably the latter class of teachers are decidedly in the minority. To practice the art in such a way as to make it an agreeable employment is difficult, and it requires much knowledge of human nature, much attention and skill. And, after all, there are some circumstances necessarily attending the work which constitute a heavy drawback on the pleasures which it might otherwise afford. The almost universal impression that the business of teaching is attended with peculiar trials and difficulties proves this. There must be some cause for an impression so general. It is not right to call it a prejudice, for, although a single individual may conceive a prejudice, whole communities very seldom do, unless in some case which is presented at once to the whole, so that, looking at it through a common medium, all judge wrong together. But the general opinion in regard to teaching is composed of a vast number of _separate_ and _independent_ judgments, and there must be some good ground for the universal result. It is best, therefore, if there are any real and peculiar sources of trial and difficulty in this pursuit, that they should be distinctly known and acknowledged at the outset. Count the cost before going to war. It is even better policy to overrate than to underrate it. Let us see, then, what the real difficulties of teaching are. It is not, however, as is generally supposed, _the confinement._ A teacher is confined, it is true, but not more than men of other professions and employments; not more than a merchant, and probably not as much. A physician is confined in a different way, but more closely than a teacher: he can never leave home: he knows generally no vacation, and nothing but accidental rest. The lawyer is confined as much. It is true there are not throughout the year exact hours which he must keep, but, considering the imperious demands of his business, his personal liberty is probably restrained as much by it as that of the teacher. So with all the other professions. Although the nature of the confinement may vary, it amounts to about the same in all. On the other hand, the teacher enjoys, in reference to this subject of confinement, an advantage which scarcely any other class of men does or can enjoy. I mean vacations. A man in any other business may _force_ himself away from it for a time, but the cares and anxieties of his business will follow him wherever he goes. It seems to be reserved for the teacher to enjoy alone the periodical luxury of a _real and entire release from business and care_. On the whole, as to confinement, it seems to me that the teacher has little ground of complaint. There are, however, some real and serious difficulties which always have, and, it is to be feared, always will, cluster around this employment; and which must, for a long time, at least, lead most men to desire some other employment for the business of life. There may perhaps be some who, by their peculiar skill, can overcome or avoid them, and perhaps the science of teaching may, at some future day, be so far improved that all may avoid them. As I describe them, however, now, most of the teachers into whose hands this treatise may fall will probably find that their own experience corresponds, in this respect, with mine. 1. The first great difficulty which the teacher feels is a sort of _moral responsibility for the conduct of others_. If his pupils do wrong, he feels almost personal responsibility for it. As he walks out some afternoon, wearied with his labors, and endeavoring to forget, for a little time, all his cares, he comes upon a group of boys in rude and noisy quarrels, or engaged in mischief of some sort, and his heart sinks within him. It is hard enough for any one to witness their bad conduct with a spirit unruffled and undisturbed, but for their teacher it is perhaps impossible. He feels _responsible_; in fact, he is responsible. If his scholars are disorderly, or negligent, or idle, or quarrelsome, he feels _condemned himself_ almost as if he were himself the actual transgressor. This difficulty is, in a great degree, peculiar to a teacher. A physician is called upon to prescribe for a patient; he examines the case, and writes his prescription. When this is done his duty is ended; and whether the patient obeys the prescription and lives, or neglects it and dies, the physician feels exonerated from all responsibility. He may, and in some cases does, feel _anxious concern_, and may regret the infatuation by which, in some unhappy case, a valuable life may be hazarded or destroyed. But he feels no _moral responsibility_ for another's guilt. It is so with all the other employments in life. They do, indeed, often bring men into collision with other men. But, though sometimes vexed and irritated by the conduct of a neighbor, a client, or a patient, they feel not half the bitterness of the solicitude and anxiety which come to the teacher through the criminality of his pupil. In ordinary cases he not only feels responsible for efforts, but for their results; and when, notwithstanding all his efforts, his pupils will do wrong, his spirit sinks with an intensity of anxious despondency which none but a teacher can understand. This feeling of something very like _moral accountability for the guilt of other persons_ is a continual burden. The teacher in the presence of the pupil never is free from it. It links him to them by a bond which perhaps he ought not to sunder, and which he can not sunder if he would. And sometimes, when those committed to his charge are idle, or faithless, or unprincipled, it wears away his spirits and his health together. I think there is nothing analogous to this moral connection between teacher and pupil unless it be in the case of a parent and child. And here, on account of the comparative smallness of the number under the parent's care, the evil is so much diminished that it is easily borne. 2. The second great difficulty of the teacher's employments is _the immense multiplicity of the objects of his attention and care_ during the time he is employed in his business. His scholars are individuals, and notwithstanding all that the most systematic can do in the way of classification, they must be attended to in a great measure as individuals. A merchant keeps his commodities together, and looks upon a cargo composed of ten thousand articles, and worth a hundred thousand dollars, as one; he speaks of it as one; and there is, in many cases, no more perplexity in planning its destination than if it were a single box of raisins. A lawyer may have a great many important cases, but he has only one at a time; that is, he _attends_ to but one at a time. The one may be intricate, involving many facts, and requiring to be examined in many aspects and relations. But he looks at but few of these facts and regards but few of these relations at a time. The points which demand his attention come one after another in regular succession. His mind may thus be kept calm. He avoids confusion and perplexity. But no skill or classification will turn the poor teacher's hundred scholars into one, or enable him, except to a very limited extent, and for a very limited purpose, to regard them as one. He has a distinct and, in many respects, a different work to do for every one of the crowd before him. Difficulties must be explained in detail, questions must be answered one by one, and each scholar's own conduct must be considered by itself. His work is thus made up of a thousand minute particulars, which are all crowding upon his attention at once, and which he can not group together, or combine, or simplify. He must, by some means or other, attend to them in all their distracting individuality. And, in a large and complicated school, the endless multiplicity and variety of objects of attention and care impose a task under which few intellects can long stand. I have said that this endless multiplicity and variety can not be reduced and simplified by classification. I mean, of course, that this can be done only to a very limited extent compared with what may be effected in the other pursuits of mankind. Were it not for the art of classification and system, no school could have more than ten scholars, as I intend hereafter to show. The great reliance of the teacher is upon this art, to reduce to some tolerable order what would otherwise be the inextricable confusion of his business. He _must be systematic_. He must classify and arrange; but, after he has done all that he can, he must still expect that his daily business will continue to consist of a vast multitude of minute particulars, from one to another of which the mind must turn with a rapidity which few of the other employments of life ever demand. These are the essential sources of difficulty with which the teacher has to contend; but, as I shall endeavor to show in succeeding chapters, though they can not be entirely removed, they can be so far mitigated by the appropriate means as to render the employment a happy one. I have thought it best, however, as this work will doubtless be read by many who, when they read it, are yet to begin their labors, to describe frankly and fully to them the difficulties which beset the path they are about to enter. "The wisdom of the prudent is to understand his way." It is often wisdom to understand it beforehand. CHAPTER II. GENERAL ARRANGEMENTS. The distraction and perplexity of the teacher's life are, as was explained in the last chapter, almost proverbial. There are other pressing and exhausting pursuits, which wear away the spirit by the ceaseless care which they impose, or perplex and bewilder the intellect by the multiplicity and intricacy of their details; but the business of teaching, by a pre-eminence not very enviable, stands, almost by common consent, at the head of the catalogue. I have already alluded to this subject in the preceding chapter, and probably the majority of actual teachers will admit the truth of the view there presented. Some will, however, doubtless say that they do not find the business of teaching so perplexing and exhausting an employment. They take things calmly. They do one thing at a time, and that without useless solicitude and anxiety. So that teaching, with them, though it has, indeed, its solicitudes and cares, as every other responsible employment must necessarily have, is, after all, a calm and quiet pursuit, which they follow from month to month, and from year to year, without any extraordinary agitations, or any unusual burdens of anxiety and care. There are, indeed, such cases, but they are exceptions, and unquestionably a considerable majority, especially of those who are beginners in the work, find it such as I have described. I think it need not be so, or, rather, I think the evil may be avoided to _a very great degree_. In this chapter I shall endeavor to show how order may be produced out of that almost inextricable mass of confusion into which so many teachers, on commencing their labors, find themselves plunged. The objects, then, to be aimed at in the general arrangements of schools are twofold: 1. That the teacher may be left uninterrupted, to attend to one thing at a time. 2. That the individual scholars may have constant employment, and such an amount and such kinds of study as shall be suited to the circumstances and capacities of each. I shall examine each in their order. 1. The following are the principal things which, in a vast number of schools, are all the time pressing upon the teacher; or, rather, they are the things which must every where press upon the teacher, except so far as, by the skill of his arrangements, he contrives to remove them. 1. Giving leave to whisper or to leave seats. 2. Distributing and changing pens. 3. Answering questions in regard to studies. 4. Hearing recitations. 5. Watching the behavior of the scholars. 6. Administering reproof and punishment for offenses as they occur. A pretty large number of objects of attention and care, one would say, to be pressing upon the mind of the teacher at one and the same time--and _all the time_ too! Hundreds and hundreds of teachers in every part of our country, there is no doubt, have all these crowding upon them from morning to night, with no cessation, except perhaps some accidental and momentary respite. During the winter months, while the principal common schools in our country are in operation, it is sad to reflect how many teachers come home every evening with bewildered and aching heads, having been vainly trying all the day to do six things at a time, while He who made the human mind has determined that it shall do but one. How many become discouraged and disheartened by what they consider the unavoidable trials of a teacher's life, and give up in despair, just because their faculties will not sustain a six-fold task. There are multitudes who, in early life, attempted teaching, and, after having been worried, almost to distraction, by the simultaneous pressure of these multifarious cares, gave up the employment in disgust, and now unceasingly wonder how any body can like teaching. I know multitudes of persons to whom the above description will exactly apply. I once heard a teacher who had been very successful, even in large schools, say that he could hear two classes recite, mend pens, and watch his school all at the same time, and that without any distraction of mind or any unusual fatigue. Of course the recitations in such a case must be from memory. There are very few minds, however, which can thus perform triple or quadruple work, and probably none which can safely be tasked so severely. For my part, I can do but one thing at a time; and I have no question that the true policy for all is to learn not _to do every thing at once_, but so to classify and arrange their work that _they shall have but one thing at once to do_. Instead of vainly attempting to attend simultaneously to a dozen things, they should so plan their work that only _one_ will demand attention. Let us, then, examine the various particulars above mentioned in succession, and see how each can be disposed of, so as not to be a constant source of interruption and derangement. 1. _Whispering_ and _leaving seats_. In regard to this subject there are very different methods now in practice in different schools. In some, especially in very small schools, the teacher allows the pupils to act according to their own discretion. They whisper and leave their seats whenever they think it necessary. This plan may possibly be admissible in a very small school, that is, in one of ten or twelve pupils. I am convinced, however, that it is a very bad plan even here. No vigilant watch which it is possible for any teacher to exert will prevent a vast amount of mere talk entirely foreign to the business of the school. I tried this plan very thoroughly, with high ideas of the dependence which might be placed upon conscience and a sense of duty, if these principles are properly brought out to action in an effort to sustain the system. I was told by distinguished teachers that it would not be found to answer. But predictions of failure in such cases only prompt to greater exertions, and I persevered. But I was forced at last to give up the point, and adopt another plan. My pupils would make resolutions enough; they understood their duty well enough. They were allowed to leave their seats and whisper to their companions whenever, _in their honest judgment, it was necessary for the prosecution of their studies_. I knew that it sometimes would be necessary, and I was desirous to adopt this plan to save myself the constant interruption of hearing and replying to requests. But it would not do. Whenever, from time to time, I called them to account, I found that a large majority, according to their own confession, were in the habit of holding daily and deliberate communication with each other on subjects entirely foreign to the business of the school. A more experienced teacher would have predicted this result; but I had very high ideas of the power of cultivated conscience, and, in fact, still have. But then, like most other persons who become possessed of a good idea, I could not be satisfied without carrying it to an extreme. Still it is necessary, in ordinary schools, to give pupils sometimes the opportunity to whisper and leave seats.[1] Cases occur where this is unavoidable. It can not, therefore, be forbidden altogether. How, then, you will ask, can the teacher regulate this practice, so as to prevent the evils which will otherwise flow from it, without being continually interrupted by the request for permission? [Footnote 1: There are some large and peculiarly-organized schools in cities and large towns to which this remark may perhaps not apply.] By a very simple method. _Appropriate particular times at which all this business is to be done_, and _forbid it altogether_ at every other time. It is well, on other accounts, to give the pupils of a school a little respite, at least every hour; and if this is done, an intermission of study for two minutes each time will be sufficient. During this time _general_ permission should be given for the pupils to speak to each other, or to leave their seats, provided they do nothing at such a time to disturb the studies of others. This plan I have myself very thoroughly tested, and no arrangement which I ever made operated for so long a time so uninterruptedly and so entirely to my satisfaction as this. It of course will require some little time, and no little firmness, to establish the new order of things where a school has been accustomed to another course; but where this is once done, I know no one plan so simple and so easily put into execution which will do so much toward relieving the teacher of the distraction and perplexity of his pursuits. In making the change, however, it is of fundamental importance that the pupils should themselves be interested in it. Their co-operation, or, rather, the co-operation of the majority, which it is very easy to obtain, is absolutely essential to success. I say this is very easily obtained. Let us suppose that some teacher, who has been accustomed to require his pupils to ask and obtain permission every time they wish to speak to a companion, is induced by these remarks to introduce this plan. He says, accordingly, to his school, "You know that you are now accustomed to ask me whenever you wish to obtain permission to whisper to a companion or to leave your seats; now I have been thinking of a plan which will be better for both you and me. By our present plan you are sometimes obliged to wait before I can attend to your request. Sometimes I think it is unnecessary, and deny you, when perhaps I was mistaken, and it was really necessary. At other times, I think it very probable that when it is quite desirable for you to leave your seat you do not ask, because you think you may not obtain permission, and you do not wish to ask and be refused. Do you, or not, experience these inconveniences from our present plans?" The pupils would undoubtedly answer in the affirmative. "I myself experience great inconvenience too. I am very frequently interrupted when busily engaged, and it also occupies a great portion of my time and attention to consider and answer your requests for permission to speak to one another and to leave your seats. It requires as much mental effort to consider and decide whether I ought to allow a pupil to leave his seat, as it would to determine a much more important question; therefore I do not like our present plan, and I have another to propose." The pupils are now all attention to know what the new plan is. It will always be of great advantage to the school for the teacher to propose his new plans from time to time to his pupils in such a way as this. It interests them in the improvement of the school, exercises their judgment, establishes a common feeling between teacher and pupil, and in many other ways assists very much in promoting the welfare of the school. "My plan," continues the teacher, "is this: to allow you all, besides the recess, a short time, two or three minutes perhaps, every hour" (or every half hour, according to the character of the school, the age of the pupils, or other circumstances, to be judged of by the teacher), "during which you may all whisper or leave your seats _without_ asking permission." Instead of deciding the question of the _frequency_ of this general permission, the teacher may, if he pleases, leave it to the pupils to decide. It is often useful to leave the decision of such a question to them. On this subject, however, I shall speak in another place. It is only necessary here to say that _this_ point may be safely left to them, since the time is so small which is to be thus appropriated. Even if they vote to have the general permission to whisper every half hour, it will make but eight minutes in the forenoon. There being six half hours in the forenoon, and one of them ending at the close of school, and another at the recess, only _four_ of these _rests_, as a military man would call them, would be necessary; and four, of two minutes each, would make eight minutes. If the teacher thinks that evil would result from the interruption of the studies so often, he may offer the pupils _three_ minutes rest every _hour_ instead of _two_ minutes every _half hour_, and let them take their choice; or he may decide the case altogether himself. Such a change, from _particular permission on individual requests_ to _general permission_ at _stated times_, would unquestionably be popular in every school, if the teacher managed the business properly. And by presenting it as an object of common interest, an arrangement proposed for the common convenience of teacher and pupils, the latter may be much interested in carrying the plan into effect. We must not rely, however, entirely upon their _interest in it_. All that we can expect from such an effort to interest them, as I have described and recommended, is to get a majority on our side, so that we may have only a small minority to deal with by other measures. Still, _we must calculate on having this minority, and form our plans accordingly_, or we shall be greatly disappointed. I shall, however, in another place, speak of this principle of interesting the pupils in our plans for the purpose of securing a majority in our favor, and explain the methods by which the minority is then to be governed. I only mean here to say that, by such means, the teacher may easily interest a large proportion of the scholars in carrying his plans into effect, and that he must expect to be prepared with other measures for those who will not be governed by these. You can not reasonably expect, however, that, immediately after having explained your plan, it will at once go into full and complete operation. Even those who are firmly determined to keep the rule will, from inadvertence, for a day or two, make communication with each other. They must be _trained_, not by threatening and punishment, but by your good-humored assistance, to their new duties. When I first adopted this plan in my school, something like the following proceedings took place. "Do you suppose that you will perfectly keep this rule from this time?" "No, sir," was the answer. "I suppose you will not. Some, I am afraid, may not really be determined to keep it, and others will forget. Now I wish that every one of you would keep an exact account to-day of all the instances in which you speak to another person, or leave your seat, out of the regular times, and be prepared to report them at the close of the school. Of course, there will be no punishment; but it will very much assist you to watch yourselves, if you expect to make a report at the end of the forenoon. Do you like this plan?" "Yes, sir," was the answer; and all seemed to enter into it with spirit. In order to mark more definitely the times for communication, I wrote, in large letters, on a piece of pasteboard, "STUDY HOURS," and making a hole over the centre of it, I hung it upon a nail over my desk. At the close of each half hour a little bell was to be struck, and this card was to be taken down. When it was up, they were, on no occasion whatever (except some such extraordinary occurrence as sickness, or my sending one of them on a message to another, or something clearly out of the common course) to speak to each other; but were to wait, whatever they wanted, until the _Study Card_, as they called it, was taken down. "Suppose now," said I, "that a young lady has come into school, and has accidentally left her book in the entry--the book from which she is to study during the first half hour of the school. She sits near the door, and she might, in a moment, slip out and obtain it. If she does not, she must spend the half hour in idleness, and be unprepared in her lesson. What is it her duty to do?" "To go," "Not to go," answered the scholars, simultaneously. "It would be her duty _not_ to go; but I suppose it will be very difficult for me to convince you of it. "The reason is this," I continued; "if the one case I have supposed were the _only_ one which would be likely to occur, it would undoubtedly be better for her to go; but if it is understood that in such cases the rule may be dispensed with, that understanding will tend very much to cause such cases to occur. Scholars will differ in regard to the degree of inconvenience which they must submit to rather than break the rule. They will gradually do it on slighter and slighter occasions, until at last the rule will be disregarded entirely. We must therefore draw a _precise line_, and individuals must submit to a little inconvenience sometimes to promote the general good." At the close of the day I requested all in the school to rise. While they were standing, I called them to account in the following manner: "Now it is very probable that some have, from inadvertence or from design, omitted to keep an account of the number of transgressions of the rule which they have committed during the day; others, perhaps, do not wish to make a report of themselves. Now as this is a common and voluntary effort, I wish to have none render assistance who do not, of their own accord, desire to do so. All those, therefore, who are not able to make a report, from not having been correct in keeping it, and all those who are unwilling to report themselves, may sit." A very small number hesitatingly took their seats. "I am afraid that all do not sit who really wish not to report themselves. Now I am honest in saying I wish you to do just as you please. If a great majority of the school really wish to assist me in accomplishing the object, why, of course, I am glad; still, I shall not call upon any for such assistance unless it is freely and voluntarily rendered." One or two more took their seats while these things were saying. Among such there would generally be some who would refuse to have any thing to do with the measure simply from a desire to thwart and impede the plans of the teacher. If so, it is best to take no notice of them. If the teacher can contrive to obtain a great majority upon his side, so as to let them see that any opposition which they can raise is of no consequence and is not even noticed, they will soon be ashamed of it. The reports, then, of those who remained standing were called for; first, those who had whispered only once were requested to sit, then those who had whispered more than once and less than five times, and so on, until at last all were down. In such a case the pupils might, if thought expedient, again be requested to rise for the purpose of asking some other questions with reference to ascertaining whether they had spoken most in the former or latter part of the forenoon. The number who had spoken inadvertently, and the number who had done it by design, might be ascertained. These inquiries accustom the pupils to render honest and faithful accounts themselves. They become, by such means, familiarized to the practice, and by means of it the teacher can many times receive most important assistance. In all this, however, the teacher should speak in a pleasant tone, and maintain a pleasant and cheerful air. The acknowledgments should be considered by the pupils not as confessions of guilt for which they are to be rebuked or punished, but as voluntary and free reports of the result of _an experiment_ in which all were interested. Some will have been dishonest in their reports: to diminish the number of these, the teacher may say, after the report is concluded, "We will drop the subject here to-day. To-morrow we will make another effort, when we shall be more successful. I have taken your reports as you have offered them without any inquiry, because I had no doubt that a great majority of this school would be honest at all hazards. They would not, I am confident, make a false report even if, by a true one, they were to bring upon themselves punishment; so that I think I may have confidence that nearly all these reports have been faithful. Still it is very probable that among so large a number some may have made a report which, they are now aware, was not perfectly fair and honest. I do not wish to know who they are; if there are any such cases, I only wish to say to the rest how much pleasanter it is for you that you have been honest and open. The business is now all ended; you have done your duty; and, though you reported a little larger number than you would if you had been disposed to conceal your faults, yet you go away from school with a quiet conscience. On the other hand, how miserable must any boy feel, if he has any nobleness of mind whatever, to go away from school to-day thinking that he has not been honest; that he has been trying to conceal his faults, and thus to obtain a credit which he did not justly deserve. Always be honest, let the consequence be what it may." The reader will understand that the object of such measures is simply _to secure as large a majority as possible_ to make _voluntary_ efforts to observe the rule. I do not expect that by such measures _universal_ obedience can be exacted. The teacher must follow up the plan after a few days by other measures for those pupils who will not yield to such inducements as these. Upon this subject, however, I shall speak more particularly at a future time. In my own school it required two or three weeks to exclude whispering and communication by signs. The period necessary to effect the revolution will be longer or shorter, according to the circumstances of the school and the dexterity of the teacher; and, after all, the teacher must not hope _entirely_ to exclude it. Approximation to excellence is all that we can expect; for unprincipled and deceiving characters will perhaps always be found, and no system whatever can prevent their existence. Proper treatment may indeed be the means of their reformation, but before this process has arrived at a successful result, others similar in character will have entered the school, so that the teacher can never expect perfection in the operation of any of his plans. I found so much relief from the change which this plan introduced, that I soon took measures for rendering it permanent; and though I am not much in favor of efforts to bring all teachers and all schools to the same plans, this principle of _whispering at limited and prescribed times alone_ seems to me well suited to universal adoption. The following simple apparatus has been used in several schools where this principle has been adopted. A drawing and description of it is inserted here, as by this means some teachers, who may like to try the course here recommended, may be saved the time and trouble of contriving something of the kind themselves. The figure _a a a a_ on the next page is a board about 18 inches by 12, to which the other parts of the apparatus are to be attached, and which is to be secured to the wall at the height of about 8 feet, and _b c d c_ is a plate of tin or brass, 8 inches by 12, of the form represented in the drawing. At _c c_, the lower extremities of the parts at the sides, the metal is bent round, so as to clasp a wire which runs from _c_ to _c_, the ends of which wire are bent at right angles, and run into the board. The plate will consequently turn on this axis as on a hinge. At the top of the plate, _d_, a small projection of the tin turns inward, and to this one end of the cord, _m m_, is attached. This cord passes back from _d_ to a small pulley at the upper part of the board, and at the lower end of it a tassel, loaded so as to be an exact counterpoise to the card, is attached. By raising the tassel, the plate will of course fall over forward till it is stopped by the part _b_ striking the board, when it will be in a horizontal position. On the other hand, by pulling down the tassel, the plate will be raised and drawn upward against the board, so as to present its convex surface, with the words STUDY HOURS upon it, distinctly to the school. In the drawing it is represented in an inclined position, being not quite drawn up, that the parts might more easily be seen. At _d_ there is a small projection of the tin upward, which touches the clapper of the bell suspended above every time the plate passes up or down, and thus gives notice of its motions. [Illustration] Of course the construction may be varied very much, and it may be more or less expensive, according to the wishes of the teacher. In the first apparatus of this kind which I used, the plate was simply a card of pasteboard, from which the machine took its name. This was cut out with a penknife, and, after being covered with marble-paper, a strip of white paper was pasted along the middle with the inscription upon it. The wire _c c_, and a similar one at the top of the plate, were passed through a perforation in the pasteboard, and then passed into the board. Instead of a pulley, the cord, which was a piece of twine, was passed through a little staple made of wire and driven into the board. The whole was made in one or two recesses in school, with such tools and materials as I could then command. The bell was a common table bell, with a wire passing through the handle. The whole was attached to such a piece of pine board as I could get on the occasion. This coarse contrivance was, for more than a year, the grand regulator of all the movements of the school. I afterward caused one to be made in a better manner. The plate was of tin, gilded, the border and the letters of the inscription being black. A parlor bell-rope was carried over a brass pulley, and then passed downward in a groove made in the mahogany board to which the card was attached. A little reflection will, however, show the teacher that the form and construction of the apparatus for marking the times of study and of rest may be greatly varied. The chief point is simply to secure the _principle_ of whispering at definite and limited times, and at those alone. If such an arrangement is adopted, and carried faithfully into effect, it will be found to relieve the teacher of more than half of the confusion and perplexity which would otherwise be his hourly lot. I have detailed thus particularly the method to be pursued in carrying this principle into effect, because I am convinced of its importance, and the incalculable assistance which such an arrangement will afford to the teacher in all his plans. Of course, I would not be understood to recommend its adoption in those cases where teachers, from their own experience, have devised and adopted _other_ plans which accomplish as effectually the same purpose. All that I mean is to insist upon the absolute necessity of _some_ plan, to remove this very common source of interruption and confusion, and I recommend this mode where a better is not known. 2. The second of the sources of interruption, as I have enumerated them, is the distribution of pens and of stationery. This business ought, if possible, to have a specific time assigned to it. Scholars are, in general, far too particular in regard to their pens. The teacher ought to explain to them that, in the transaction of the ordinary business of life, they can not always have exactly such a pen as they would like. They must learn to write with various kinds of pens, and when furnished with one that the teacher himself would consider suitable to write a letter to a friend with, he must be content. They should understand that the _form_ of the letters is what is important in learning to write, not the smoothness and clearness of the hair lines; and that though writing looks better when executed with a perfect pen, a person may _learn_ to write nearly as well with one which is not absolutely perfect. So certain is this, though often overlooked, that a person would perhaps learn faster with chalk, upon a black board, than with the best goose-quill ever sharpened. I do not make these remarks to show that it is of no consequence whether scholars have good or bad pens, but only that this subject deserves very much less of the time and attention of the teacher than it usually receives. When the scholars are allowed, as they very often are, to come when they please to change their pens, breaking in upon any business--interrupting any classes--perplexing and embarrassing the teacher, however he may be employed, there is a very serious obstruction to the progress of the scholars, which is by no means repaid by the improvement in this branch. To guard against these evils, a regular and well-considered system should be adopted for the distribution of pens and stationary, and when adopted it should be strictly and steadily adhered to. 3. Answering questions about studies. A teacher who does not adopt some system in regard to this subject will be always at the mercy of his scholars. One boy will want to know how to parse a word, another where the lesson is, another to have a sum explained, and a fourth will wish to show his work to see if it is right. The teacher does not like to discourage such inquiries. Each one, as it comes up, seems necessary; each one, too, is answered in a moment; but the endless number and the continual repetition of them consume his time and exhaust his patience. There is another view of the subject which ought to be taken. Perhaps it would not be far from the truth to estimate the average number of scholars in the schools in our country at fifty. At any rate, this will be near enough for our present purpose. There are three hours in each session, according to the usual arrangement, making one hundred and eighty minutes, which, divided among fifty, give about three minutes and a half to each individual. If the reader has, in his own school, a greater or a less number, he can easily correct the above calculation, so as to adapt it to his own case, and ascertain the portion which may justly be appropriated to each pupil. It will probably vary from two to four minutes. Now a period of four minutes slips away very fast while a man is looking over perplexing figures on a slate, and if he exceeds that time at all in individual attention to any one scholar, he is doing injustice to his other pupils. I do not mean that a man is to confine himself rigidly to the principle suggested by this calculation of cautiously appropriating no more time to any one of his pupils than such a calculation would assign to each, but simply that this is a point which should be kept in view, and should have a very strong influence in deciding how far it is right to devote attention exclusively to individuals. It seems to me that it shows very clearly that one ought to teach his pupils, as much as possible, _in masses_, and as little as possible by private attention to individual cases. The following directions will help the teacher to carry these principles into effect. When you assign a lesson, glance over it yourself, and consider what difficulties are likely to arise. You know the progress which your pupils have made, and can easily anticipate their difficulties. Tell them all together, in the class, what their difficulties will be, and how they may surmount them. Give them directions how they are to act in the emergencies which will be likely to occur. This simple step will remove a vast number of the questions which would otherwise become occasions for interrupting you. With regard to other difficulties, which can not be foreseen and guarded against, direct the pupils to bring them to the class at the next recitation. Half a dozen of the class might, and very probably would, meet with the same difficulty. If they bring this difficulty to you one by one, you have to explain it over and over again, whereas, when it is brought to the class, one explanation answers for all. As to all questions about the lesson--where it is, what it is, and how long it is--never answer them. Require each pupil to remember for himself, and if he was absent when the lesson was assigned, let him ask his class-mate in a rest. You _may_ refuse to give particular individuals the private assistance they ask for in such a way as to discourage and irritate them, but this is by no means necessary. It can be done in such a manner that the pupil will see the propriety of it, and acquiesce pleasantly in it. A child comes to you, for example, and says, "Will you tell me, sir, where the next lesson is?" "Were you not in the class at the time?" "Yes, sir; but I have forgotten." "Well, I have forgotten too. I have a great many classes to hear, and, of course, great many lessons to assign, and I never remember them. It is not necessary for me to remember." "May I speak to one of the class to ask about it?" "You can not speak, you know, till the Study Card is down; you may then." "But I want to get my lesson now." "I don't know what you will do, then. I am sorry you don't remember. "Besides," continues the teacher, looking pleasantly, however, while he says it, "if I knew, I think I ought not to tell you." "Why, sir?" "Because, you know, I have said I wish the scholars to remember where the lessons are, and not come to me. You know it would be very unwise for me, after assigning a lesson once for all in the class, to spend my time here at my desk in assigning it over again to each individual one by one. Now if I should tell _you_ where the lesson is now, I should have to tell others, and thus should adopt a practice which I have condemned." Take another case. You assign to a class of little girls a subject of composition, requesting them to copy their writing upon a sheet of paper, leaving a margin an inch wide at the top, and one of half an inch at the sides and bottom. The class take their seats, and, after a short time, one of them comes to you, saying she does not know how long an inch is. "Don't you know any thing about it?" "No, sir, not much." "Should you think _that_ is more or less than an inch?" (pointing to a space on a piece of paper much too large). "More." "Then you know something about it. Now I did not tell you to make the margins _exactly_ an inch and half an inch, but only as near as you could judge?" "Would _that_ be about right?" asks the girl, showing a distance. "I must not tell you, because, you know, I never in such cases help individuals; if that is as near as you can get it, you may make it so." It may be well, after assigning a lesson to a class, to say that all those who do not distinctly understand what they have to do may remain after the class have taken their seats, and ask: the task may then be distinctly assigned again, and the difficulties, so far as they can be foreseen, explained. By such means these sources of interruption and difficulty may, like the others, be almost entirely removed. Perhaps not altogether, for many cases may occur where the teacher may choose to give a particular class permission to come to him for help. Such permission, however, ought never to be given unless it is absolutely necessary, and should never be allowed to be taken unless it is distinctly given. 4. Hearing recitations. I am aware that many attempt to do something else at the same time that they are hearing a recitation, and there may perhaps be some individuals who can succeed in this. If the exercise to which the teacher is attending consists merely in listening to the reciting word for word some passage committed to memory, it can be done. I hope, however, to show in a future chapter that there are other and far higher objects which every teacher ought to have in view in his recitations, and he who understands these objects, and aims at accomplishing them--who endeavors to _instruct_ his class, to enlarge and elevate their ideas, to awaken a deep and paramount interest in the subject which they are examining, will find that his time must be his own, and his attention uninterrupted while he is presiding at a class. All the other exercises and arrangements of the school are, in fact, preparatory and subsidiary to this. Here, that is, in the classes, the real business of teaching is to be done. Here the teacher comes in contact with his scholars mind with mind, and here, consequently, he must be uninterrupted and undisturbed. I shall speak more particularly on this subject hereafter under the head of instruction; all I wish to secure in this place is that the teacher should make such arrangements that he can devote his exclusive attention to his classes while he is actually engaged with them. Each recitation, too, should have its specified time, which should be adhered to with rigid accuracy. If any thing like the plan I have suggested for allowing rests of a minute or two every half hour should be adopted, it will mark off the forenoon into parts which ought to be precisely and carefully observed. I was formerly accustomed to think that I could not limit the time for my recitations without great inconvenience, and occasionally allowed one exercise to encroach upon the succeeding, and this upon the next, and thus sometimes the last was excluded altogether. But such a lax and irregular method of procedure is ruinous to the discipline of a school. On perceiving it at last, I put the bell into the hands of a pupil, commissioning her to ring regularly, having myself fixed the times, saying that I would show my pupils that I could be confined myself to system as well as they. At first I experienced a little inconvenience; but this soon disappeared, and at last the hours and half hours of our artificial division entirely superseded, in the school-room, the divisions of the clock face. I found, too, that it exerted an extremely favorable influence upon the scholars in respect to their willingness to submit readily to the necessary restrictions imposed upon them in school, to show them that the teacher was subject to law as well as they. But, in order that I may be specific and definite, I will draw up a plan for the regular division of time, for a common school, not to be _adopted_, but to be _imitated_; that is, I do not recommend exactly this plan, but that some plan, precise and specific, should be determined upon, and exhibited to the school by a diagram like the following: FORENOON. IX. X. XI. XII. +---------+---------+---+---+------------+ |READING. |WRITING. |R. |G. |ARITHMETIC. | +----+----+----+----+---+---+-----+------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +----+----+----+----+---+---+-----+------+ AFTERNOON. II. III. IV. V. +-----------+---------+---+---+----------+ |GEOGRAPHY. |WRITING. |R. |G. |GRAMMAR. | +-----+-----+----+----+---+---+----+-----+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+----+----+---+---+----+-----+ A drawing on a large sheet, made by some of the older scholars (for a teacher should never do any thing of this kind which his scholars can do for him), should be made and pasted up to view, the names of the classes being inserted in the columns under their respective heads. At the double lines at ten and three, there might be a rest of two minutes, an officer appointed for the purpose ringing a bell at each of the periods marked on the plan, and making the signal for the _rest_, whatever signal might be determined upon. It is a good plan to have the bell _touched_ five minutes before each half hour expires, and then exactly at its close. The first bell would notify the teacher or teachers, if there are more than one in the school, that the time for their respective recitations is drawing to a close. At the second bell the new classes should take their places without waiting to be called for. The scholars will thus see that the arrangements of the school are based upon system, to which the teacher himself conforms, and not subjected to his own varying will. They will thus not only go on more regularly, but they will themselves yield more easily and pleasantly to the necessary arrangements. The fact is, children love system and regularity. Each one is sometimes a little uneasy under the restraint which it imposes upon him individually, but they all love to see its operation upon others, and they are generally very willing to submit to its laws, if the rest of the community are required to submit too. They show this in their love of military parade; what allures them is chiefly the _order_ of it; and even a little child creeping upon the floor will be pleased when he gets his playthings in a row. A teacher may turn this principle to most useful account in forming his plans for his school, in observing that the teacher is governed by them too as well as they. It will be seen by reference to the foregoing plan that I have marked the time for the recesses by the letter R. at the top. Immediately after them, both in the forenoon and in the afternoon, twenty minutes are left, marked G., the initial standing for general exercise. They are intended to denote periods during which all the scholars are in their seats, with their work laid aside, ready to attend to whatever the teacher may desire to bring before the whole school. There are so many occasions on which it is necessary to address the whole school, that it is very desirable to appropriate a particular time for it. In most of the best schools I believe this plan is adopted. I will mention some of the subjects which would come up at such a time. 1. There are some studies which can be advantageously attended to by the whole school together, such as Punctuation, and, to some extent, Spelling. 2. Cases of discipline which it is necessary to bring before the whole school ought to come up at a regularly-appointed time. By attending to them here, there will be a greater importance attached to them. Whatever the teacher does will seem to be more deliberate, and, in fact, _will be_ more deliberate. 3. General remarks, bringing up classes of faults which prevail; also general directions, which may at any time be needed; and, in fact, any business relating to the general arrangements of the school. 4. Familiar lectures from the teacher on various subjects. These lectures, though necessarily brief and quite familiar in their form, may still be very exact and thorough in respect to the knowledge conveyed. When they are upon scientific subjects they may sometimes be illustrated by experiments, more or less imposing, according to the ingenuity of the teacher, the capacity of the older scholars to assist him in the preparations, or the means and facilities at his command.[2] [Illustration] [Footnote 2: In some of the larger institutions of the country the teacher will have convenient apparatus at his disposal, and a room specially adapted to the purpose of experiments. The engraving represents a room at the Spingler Institute at New York. But let not the teacher suppose that these special facilities are essential to enable him to give instruction to his pupils in such a way. I have known a much larger balloon than the one represented in the engraving to be constructed by the teacher and pupils of a common country school from directions in Rees's Cyclopedia, and sent up in the open air. The aeronaut that accompanied it was a hen--poor thing!] The design of such lectures should be to extend the _general knowledge_ of the pupils in regard to those subjects on which they will need information in their progress through life. In regard to each of these particulars I shall speak more particularly hereafter, in the chapters to which they respectively belong. My only object here is to show, in the general arrangements of the school, how a place is to be found for them. My practice has been to have two periods of short duration, each day, appropriated to these objects: the first to the _business of the school_, and the second to such studies or lectures as could be most profitably attended to at such a time. We come now to one of the most important subjects which present themselves to the teacher's attention in settling the principles upon which he shall govern his school. I mean the degree of influence which the boys themselves shall have in the management of its affairs. Shall the government of school be a _monarchy_ or a _republic?_ To this question, after much inquiry and many experiments, I answer, a monarchy; an absolute, unlimited monarchy; the teacher possessing exclusive power as far as the pupils are concerned, though strictly responsible to the committee or to the trustees under whom he holds his office. While, however, it is thus distinctly understood that the power of the teacher is supreme, that all the power rests in him, and that he alone is responsible for its exercise, there ought to be a very free and continual _delegation_ of power to the pupils. As much business as is possible should be committed to them. They should be interested as much as possible in the affairs of the school, and led to take an active part in carrying them forward; though they should, all the time, distinctly understand that it is only _delegated_ power which they exercise, and that the teacher can, at any time, revoke what he has granted, and alter or annul at pleasure any of their decisions. By this plan we have the responsibility resting where it ought to rest, and yet the boys are trained to business, and led to take an active interest in the welfare of the school. Trust is reposed in them, which may be greater or less, as they are able to bear. All the good effects of reposing trust and confidence, and committing the management of important business to the pupils will be secured, without the dangers which would result from the entire surrender of the management of the institution into their hands. There have been, in several cases, experiments made with reference to ascertaining how far a government strictly republican would be admissible in a school. A very fair experiment of this kind was made some years since at the Gardiner Lyceum, in Maine. At the time of its establishment, nothing was said of the mode of government which it was intended to adopt. For some time the attention of the instructors was occupied in arranging the course of study, and attending to the other concerns of the institution; and, in the infant state of the Lyceum, few cases of discipline occurred, and no regular system of government was necessary. Before long, however, complaints were made that the students at the Lyceum were guilty of breaking windows in an old building used as a town-house. The principal called the students together, mentioned the reports, and said that he did not know, and did not wish to know who were the guilty individuals. It was necessary, however, that the thing should be examined into, and that restitution should be made, and, relying on their faithfulness and ability, he should leave them to manage the business alone. For this purpose, he nominated one of the students as judge, some others as jurymen, and appointed the other officers necessary in the same manner. He told them that, in order to give them time to make a thorough investigation, they were excused from farther exercises during the day. The principal then left them, and they entered on the trial. The result was that they discovered the guilty individuals, ascertained the amount of mischief done by each, and sent to the selectmen a message, by which they agreed to pay a sum equal to three times the value of the injury sustained. The students were soon after informed that this mode of bringing offenders to justice would hereafter be always pursued, and arrangements were made for organizing a _regular republican government_ among the young men. By this government all laws which related to the internal police of the institution were to be made, all officers were appointed, and all criminal cases were to be tried. The students finding the part of a judge too difficult for them to sustain, one of the professors was appointed to hold that office, and, for similar reasons, another of the professors was made president of the legislative assembly. The principal was the executive, with power to _pardon_, but not to _sentence_, or even _accuse_. Some time after this a student was indicted for profane swearing; he was tried, convicted, and punished. After this he evinced a strong hostility to the government. He made great exertions to bring it into contempt, and when the next trial came on, he endeavored to persuade the witnesses that giving evidence was dishonorable, and he so far succeeded that the defendant was acquitted for want of evidence, when it was generally understood that there was proof of his guilt, which would have been satisfactory if it could have been brought forward. For some time after this the prospect was rather unfavorable, though many of the students themselves opposed with great earnestness these efforts, and were much alarmed lest they should lose their free government through the perverseness of one of their number. The attorney general, at this juncture, conceived the idea of indicting the individual alluded to for an attempt to overturn the government. He obtained the approbation of the principal, and the grand jury found a bill. The court, as the case was so important, invited some of the trustees, who were in town, to attend the trial. The parent of the defendant was also informed of the circumstances and requested to be present, and he accordingly attended. The prisoner was tried, found guilty, and sentenced, if I mistake not, to expulsion. At his earnest request, however, to be permitted to remain in the Lyceum and redeem his character, he was pardoned and restored, and from that time he became perfectly exemplary in his conduct and character. After this occurrence the system went on in successful operation for some time. The legislative power was vested in the hands of a general committee, consisting of eight or ten, chosen by the students from their own number. They met about once a week to transact such business as appointing officers, making and repealing regulations, and inquiring into the state of the Lyceum. The instructors had a negative upon all their proceedings, but no direct and positive power. They could pardon, but they could assign no punishments, nor make laws inflicting any. Now such a plan as this may succeed for a short time, and under very favorable circumstances; and the circumstance which it is chiefly important should be favorable is, that the man who is called to preside over such an association should possess such talents of _generalship_ that he can really manage the institution _himself_, while the power is _nominally_ and _apparently_ in the hands of the boys. Should this not be the case, or should the teacher, from any cause, lose his personal influence in the school, so that the institution should really be surrendered into the hands of the pupils, things must be on a very unstable footing. And, accordingly, where such a plan has been adopted, it has, I believe, in every instance, been ultimately abandoned. _Real self-government_ is an experiment sufficiently hazardous among men, though Providence, in making a daily supply of food necessary for every human being, has imposed a most powerful check upon the tendency to anarchy and confusion. Let the populace of Paris or of London materially interrupt the order and break in upon the arrangements of the community, and in eight-and-forty hours nearly the whole of the mighty mass will be in the hands of the devourer, hunger, and they will be soon brought to submission. On the other hand, a month's anarchy and confusion in a college or an academy would be delight to half the students, or else times have greatly changed since I was within college walls. Although it is thus evident that the important concerns of a literary institution can not be safely committed into the hands of the students, very great benefits will result from calling upon them to act upon and to decide questions relative to the school within such limits and under such restrictions as are safe and proper. Such a practice will assist the teacher very much if he manages it with any degree of dexterity; for it will interest his pupils in the success of the school, and secure, to a very considerable extent, their co-operation in the government of it. It will teach them self-control and self-government, and will accustom them to submit to the majority--that lesson which, of all others, it is important for a republican to learn. In endeavoring to interest the pupils of a school in the work of co-operating with the teacher in its administration, no little dexterity will be necessary at the outset. In all probability, the formal announcement of this principle, and the endeavor to introduce it by a sudden revolution, would totally fail. Boys, like men, must be gradually prepared for; power, and they must exercise it only so far as they are prepared. This, however, can very easily be done. The teacher should say nothing of his general design, but, when some suitable opportunity presents, he should endeavor to lead his pupils to co-operate with him in some particular instance. For example, let us suppose that he has been accustomed to distribute the writing-books with his own hand when the writing-hour arrives, and that he concludes to delegate this simple business first to his scholars. He accordingly states to them, just before the writing exercise of the day on which he proposes the experiment, as follows: "I have thought that time will be saved if you will help me distribute the books, and I will accordingly appoint four distributors, one for each division of the seats, who may come to me and receive the books, and distribute them each to his own division. Are you willing to adopt this plan?" The boys answer "Yes, sir," and the teacher then looks carefully around the room, and selects four pleasant and popular boys--boys who he knows would gladly assist him, and who would, at the same time, be agreeable to their school-mates. This latter point is necessary in order to secure the popularity and success of the plan. Unless the boys are very different from any I have ever met with, they will be pleased with the duty thus assigned them. They will learn system and regularity by being taught to perform this simple duty in a proper manner. After a week, the teacher may consider their term of service as having expired, and thanking them in public for the assistance they have rendered him, he may ask the scholars if they are willing to continue the plan, and if the vote is in favor of it, as it unquestionably would be, each boy probably hoping that he should be appointed to the office, the teacher may nominate four others, including, perhaps, upon the list, some boy popular among his companions, but whom he has suspected to be not very friendly to himself or the school. I think the most scrupulous statesman would not object to securing influence by conferring office in such a case. If difficulties arise from the operation of such a measure, the plan can easily be modified to avoid or correct them. If it is successful, it may be continued, and the principle may be extended, so as in the end to affect very considerably all the arrangements and the whole management of the school. Or, let us imagine the following scene to have been the commencement of the introduction of the principle of limited self-government into a school. The preceptor of an academy was sitting at his desk, at the close of school, while the pupils were putting up their books and leaving the room. A boy came in with angry looks, and, with his hat in his hands bruised and dusty, advanced to the master's desk, and complained that one of his companions had thrown down his hat upon the floor, and had almost spoiled it. The teacher looked calmly at the mischief, and then asked how it happened. "I don't know, sir. I hung it on my nail, and he pulled it down." "I wish you would ask him to come here," said the teacher. "Ask him pleasantly." The accused soon came in, and the two boys stood together before the master. "There seems to be some difficulty between you boys about a nail to hang your hats upon. I suppose each of you think it is your own nail." "Yes, sir," said both the boys. "It will be more convenient for me to talk with you about this to-morrow than to-night, if you are willing to wait. Besides, we can examine it more calmly then. But if we put it off till then, you must not talk about it in the mean time, blaming one another, and keeping up the irritation that you feel. Are you both willing to leave it just where it is till to-morrow, and try to forget all about it till then? I expect I shall find you both a little to blame." The boys rather reluctantly consented. The next day the master heard the case, and settled it so far as it related to the two boys. It was easily settled in the morning, for they had had time to get calm, and were, after sleeping away their anger, rather ashamed of the whole affair, and very desirous to have it forgotten. That day, when the hour for the transaction of general business came, the teacher stated to the school that it was necessary to take some measures to provide each boy with a nail for his hat. In order to show that it was necessary, he related the circumstances of the quarrel which had occurred the day before. He did this, not with such an air and manner as to convey the impression that his object was to find fault with the boys, or to expose their misconduct, but to show the necessity of doing something to remedy the evil which had been the cause of so unpleasant an occurrence. Still, though he said nothing in the way of reproof or reprehension, and did not name the boys, but merely gave a cool and impartial narrative of the facts, the effect, very evidently, was to bring such quarrels into discredit. A calm review of misconduct, after the excitement has gone by, will do more to bring it into disgrace than the most violent invectives and reproaches directed against the individuals guilty of it at the time. "Now, boys," continued the master, "will you assist me in making arrangements to prevent the recurrence of all temptations of this kind hereafter? It is plain that every boy ought to have a nail appropriated expressly to his use. The first thing to be done is to ascertain whether there are enough for all. I should like, therefore, to have two committees appointed: one to count and report the number of nails in the entry, and also how much room there is for more; the other to ascertain the number of scholars in school. They can count all who are here, and, by observing the vacant desks, they can ascertain the number absent. When this investigation is made, I will tell you what to do next." The boys seemed pleased with the plan, and the committees were appointed, two members on each. The master took care to give the quarrelers some share in the work, apparently forgetting, from this time, the unpleasant occurrence which had brought up the subject. When the boys came to inform him of the result of their inquiries, he asked them to make a little memorandum of it in writing, as he might forget the numbers, he said, before the time came for reading them. The boys brought him, presently, a rough scrap of paper, with the figures marked upon it. He told them he should forget which was the number of nails, and which the number of scholars, unless they wrote it down. "It is the custom among men," said he, "to make out their report, in such a case, fully, so that it would explain itself; and I should like to have you, if you are willing, make out yours a little more distinctly." Accordingly, after a little additional explanation, the boys made another attempt, and presently returned with something like the following: "The committee for counting the nails report as follows: Number of nails. . . . 35 Room for more . . . . 15." The other report was very similar, though somewhat rudely written and expressed, and both were perfectly satisfactory to the preceptor, as he plainly showed by the manner in which he received them. I need not finish the description of this case by narrating particularly the reading of the reports, the appointment of a committee to assign the nails, and to paste up the names of the scholars, one to each. The work, in such a case, might be done in recesses, and out of school hours; and though, at first, the teacher will find that it is as much trouble to accomplish business in this way as it would be to attend to it directly himself, yet, after a very little experience, he will find that his pupils will acquire dexterity and readiness, and will be able to render him very material assistance in the accomplishment of his plans. This, however--the assistance rendered to the teacher--is not the main object of the adoption of such measures as this. The main design is to interest the pupils in the management and the welfare of the school--to identify them, as it were, with it. And such measures as the above will accomplish this object; and every teacher who will try the experiment, and carry it into effect with any tolerable degree of skill, will find that it will, in a short time, change the whole aspect of the school in regard to the feelings subsisting between himself and his pupils. Each teacher who tries such an experiment will find himself insensibly repeating it, and after a time he may have quite a number of officers and committees who are intrusted with various departments of business. He will have a secretary, chosen by ballot by the scholars, to keep a record of all the important transactions in the school for each day. At first he will dictate to the secretary, thus directing him precisely what to say, or even writing it for him, and then merely requiring him to copy it into the book provided for the purpose. Afterward he will give the pupil less and less assistance, till he can keep the record properly himself. The record of each day will be read on the succeeding day at the hour for business. The teacher will perhaps have a committee to take care of the fire, and another to see that the room is constantly in good order. He will have distributors for each division of seats, to distribute books, and compositions, and pens, and to collect votes. And thus, in a short time, his school will become _regularly organized as a society or legislative assembly_. The boys will learn submission to the majority in such unimportant things as may be committed to them; they will learn system and regularity, and every thing else, indeed, that belongs to the science of political self-government. There are dangers, however. What useful practice has not its dangers? One of these is, that the teacher will allow these arrangements to take up too much time. He must guard against this. I have found from experience that fifteen minutes each day, with a school of 135, is enough. This ought never to be exceeded. Another danger is, that the boys will be so engaged in the duties of their _offices_ as to neglect their _studies_. This would be, and ought to be, fatal to the whole plan. This danger may be avoided in the following manner. State publicly that you will not appoint any to office who are not good scholars, always punctual, and always prepared; and when any boy who holds an office is going behindhand in his studies, say to him kindly, "You have not time to get your lessons, and I am afraid it is owing to the fact that you spend so much time in helping me. Now if you wish to resign your office, so as to have more time for your lessons, you can. In fact, I think you ought to do it. You may try it for a day or two, and I will notice how you recite, and then we can decide." Such a communication will generally be found to have a powerful effect. If it does not remedy the evil, the resignation must be insisted on. A few decided cases of this kind will effectually remove the evil I am considering. Another difficulty which is likely to attend the plan of allowing the pupils of a school to take some part in this way in the administration of it is that it may tend to make them insubordinate, so that they will, in many instances, submit with less good humor to such decisions as you may consider necessary. I do not mean that this will be the case with all, but that there will be a few who will be ungenerous enough, if you allow them to decide sometimes what shall be done, to endeavor to make trouble, or at least to show symptoms of impatience and vexation because you do not allow them always to decide. Sometimes this feeling may show itself by the discontented looks, or gestures, or even words with which some unwelcome regulation or order on the part of the teacher will be received. Such a spirit should be immediately and decidedly checked whenever it appears. It will not be difficult to check, and even entirely to remove it. On one occasion when, after learning the wish of the scholars on some subject which had been brought before them, I decided contrary to it, there arose a murmur of discontent all over the room. This was the more distinct, because I have always accustomed my pupils to answer questions asked, and to express their wishes and feelings on any subject I may present to them with great freedom. I asked all those who had expressed their dissatisfaction to rise. About one third of the scholars arose. "Perhaps you understood that when I put the question to vote I meant to abide by your decision, and that, consequently, I ought not to have reversed it, as I did afterward?" "Yes, sir," "Yes, sir," they replied. Do you suppose it would be safe to leave the decision of important questions to the scholars in this school?" "Yes, sir;" "No, sir." The majority were, however, in the affirmative. Thus far, only those who were standing had answered. I told them that, as they were divided in opinion, they might sit, and I would put the question to the whole school. "You know," I continued, addressing the whole, "what sort of persons the girls who compose this school are. You know about how many are governed habitually by steady principle, and how many by impulse and feeling. You know, too, what proportion have judgment and foresight necessary to consider and decide independently such questions as continually arise in the management of a school. Now suppose I should resign the school into your own hands as to its management, and only come in to give instruction to the classes, leaving all general control of its arrangements with you, would it go on safely or not?" As might have been foreseen, there was, when the question was fairly proposed, scarcely a solitary vote in favor of government by scholars. They seemed to see clearly the absurdity of such a scheme. "Besides," I continued, "the trustees of this school have committed it to my charge; they hold me responsible; the public hold _me_ responsible, not you. Now if I should surrender it into your hands, and you, from any cause, should manage the trust unfaithfully or unskillfully, I should necessarily be held accountable. I could never shift the responsibility upon you. Now it plainly is not just or right that one party should hold the power, and another be held accountable for its exercise. It is clear, therefore, in every view of the subject, that I should retain the management of this school in my own hands. Are you not satisfied that it is?" The scholars universally answered "Yes, sir." They seemed satisfied, and doubtless were. It was then stated to them that the object in asking them to vote was, in some cases, to obtain an expression of their opinion or their wishes in order to help _me_ decide, and only in those cases where it was expressly stated did I mean to give the final decision to them. Still, however, if cases are often referred to them, the feeling will gradually creep in that the school is managed on republican principles, as they call it, and they will, unless this point is specially guarded, gradually lose that spirit of entire and cordial subordination so necessary for the success of any school. It should often be distinctly explained to them that a republican government is one where the power essentially resides in the community, and is exercised by a ruler only so far as the community delegates it to him, whereas in the school the government is based on the principle that the power, primarily and essentially, resides in the teacher, the scholars exercising only such as _he_ may delegate to _them_. With these limitations and restrictions, and with this express understanding in regard to what is, in all cases, the ultimate authority, I think there will be no danger in throwing a very large share of the business which will, from time to time, come up in the school, upon the scholars themselves for decision. In my own experience this plan has been adopted with the happiest results. In the Mount Vernon School a small red morocco wrapper lies constantly on a little shelf, accessible to all. By its side is a little pile of papers, about one inch by six, on which any one may write her motion, or her _proposition_, as the scholars call it, whatever it may be, and when written it is inclosed in the wrapper, to be brought to me at the appointed time for attending to the general business of the school. Through this wrapper all questions are asked, all complaints entered, all proposals made. Is there discontent in the school? It shows itself by "_propositions_" in the wrapper. Is any body aggrieved or injured? I learn it through the wrapper. In fact, it is a little safety-valve, which lets off what, if confined, might threaten explosion---an index--a thermometer, which reveals to me, from day to day, more of the state of public opinion in the little community than any thing beside. These propositions are generally read aloud. Some cases are referred to the scholars for decision; some I decide myself; others are laid aside without notice of any kind; others still, merely suggest remarks on the subjects to which they allude. The principles, then, which this chapter has been intended to establish, are simply these: in making your general arrangements, look carefully over your ground, consider all the objects which you have to accomplish, and the proper degree of time and attention which each deserves. Then act upon system. Let the mass of particulars which would otherwise crowd upon you in promiscuous confusion be arranged and classified. Let each be assigned to its proper time and place, so that your time may be your own, under your own command, and not, as is too often the case, at the mercy of the thousand accidental circumstances which may occur. In a word, be, in the government of your school, yourself supreme, and let your supremacy be that of _authority_; but delegate power, as freely as possible, to those under your care. Show them that you are desirous of reposing trust in them just so far as they show themselves capable of exercising it. Thus interest them in your plans, and make them feel that they participate in the honor or the disgrace of success or failure. I have gone much into detail in this chapter, proposing definite measures by which the principles I have recommended may be carried into effect. I wish, however, that it may be distinctly understood that all I contend for is the _principles_ themselves, no matter what the particular measures are by which they are secured. Every good school must be systematic, but all need not be on precisely the same system. As this work is intended almost exclusively for beginners, much detail has been admitted, and many of the specific measures here proposed may perhaps be safely adopted where no others are established. There may also, perhaps, be cases where teachers, whose schools are already in successful operation, may ingraft upon their own plans some things which are here proposed. If they should attempt it, it must be done cautiously and gradually. There is no other way by which they can be safely introduced, or even introduced at all. This is a point of so much importance, that I must devote a paragraph to it before closing the chapter. Let a teacher propose to his pupils, formally, from his desk, the plan of writing propositions, for example, as explained above, and procure his wrapper, and put it in its place, and what would be the result? Why, not a single paper, probably, could he get, from one end of the week to the other. But let him, on the other hand, when a boy comes to him to ask some question, the answer to which many in the school would equally wish to hear, say to the inquirer, "Will you be so good as to write that question, and put it on my desk, and then, at the regular time, I will answer it to all the school." When he reads it, let him state that it was written at his request, and give the other boys permission to leave their proposals or questions on his desk in the same way. In a few days he will have another, and thus the plan may be gently and gradually introduced. So with officers. They should be appointed among the scholars only _as fast as they are actually needed_, and the plan should thus be cautiously carried only so far as it proves good on trial. Be always cautious about innovations and changes. Make no rash experiments on a large scale, but always test your principle in the small way, and then, if it proves good, gradually extend its operation as circumstances seem to require. By thus cautiously and slowly introducing plans, founded on the systematic principles here brought to view, a very considerable degree of quiet, and order, and regularity may be introduced into the largest and most miscellaneous schools. And this order and quiet are absolutely necessary to enable the teacher to find that interest and enjoyment in his work which were exhibited in the last chapter; the pleasure of _directing and controlling mind_, and doing it, not by useless and anxious complaints, or stern threats and painful punishments, but by regarding the scene of labor in its true light, as a community of intellectual and moral beings, and governing it by moral and intellectual power. It is, in fact, the pleasure of exercising _power_. I do not mean arbitrary, personal authority, but the power to produce, by successful but quiet contrivance, extensive and happy results; the pleasure of calmly considering every difficulty, and, without irritation or anger, devising the proper moral means to remedy the moral evil; and then the interest and pleasure of witnessing its effects. CHAPTER III. INSTRUCTION. [Illustration] We come now to consider the subject of Instruction. There are three kinds of human knowledge which stand strikingly distinct from all the rest. They lie at the foundation. They constitute the roots of the tree. In other words, they are the _means_ by which all other knowledge is attained. I need not say that I mean Reading, Writing, and Calculation. Teachers do not perhaps always consider how entirely and essentially distinct these three branches of learning are from all the rest. They are arts; the acquisition of them is not to be considered as knowledge, so much as the means by which knowledge may be obtained. A child who is studying Geography, or History, or Natural Science, is learning _facts_--gaining information; on the other hand, the one who is learning to write, or to read, or to calculate, may be adding little or nothing to his stock of knowledge. He is acquiring _skill_, which, at some future time, he may make the means of increasing his knowledge to any extent. This distinction ought to be kept constantly in view, and the teacher should feel that these three fundamental branches stand by themselves, and stand first in importance. I do not mean to undervalue the others, but only to insist upon the superior value and importance of these. Teaching a pupil to read before he enters upon the active business of life is like giving a new settler an axe as he goes to seek his new home in the forest. Teaching him a lesson in history is, on the other hand, only cutting down a tree or two for him. A knowledge of natural history is like a few bushels of grain gratuitously placed in his barn; but the art of ready reckoning is the plow which will remain by him for years, and help him to draw out from the soil a new treasure every year of his life. The great object, then, of the common schools in our country is to teach the whole population to read, to write, and to calculate. In fact, so essential is it that the accomplishment of these objects should be secured, that it is even a question whether common schools should not be confined to them. I say it is a _question_, for it is sometimes made so, though public opinion has decided that some portion of attention, at least, should be paid to the acquisition of additional knowledge. But, after all, the amount of _knowledge_ which is actually acquired at schools is very small. It must be very small. The true policy is to aim at making all the pupils good readers, writers, and calculators, and to consider the other studies of the school important chiefly as practice in turning these arts to useful account. In other words, the scholars should be taught these arts thoroughly first of all, and in the other studies the main design should be to show them how to use, and interest them in using, the arts they have thus acquired. A great many teachers feel a much stronger interest in the one or two scholars they may have in Surveying or in Latin than they do in the large classes in the elementary branches which fill the school. But a moment's reflection will show that such a preference is founded on a very mistaken view. Leading forward one or two minds from step to step in an advanced study is certainly far inferior in real dignity and importance to opening all the stores of written knowledge to fifty or a hundred. The man who neglects the interests of his school in these great branches to devote his time to two or three, or half a dozen older scholars, is unjust both to his employers and to himself. It is the duty, therefore, of every teacher who commences a common district school for a single season to make, when he commences, an estimate of the state of his pupils in reference to these three branches. How do they all write? How do they all read? How do they calculate? It would be well if he would make a careful examination of the school in this respect. Let them all write a specimen. Let all read, and let him make a memorandum of the manner, noticing how many read fluently, how many with difficulty, how many know only their letters, and how many are to be taught these. Let him ascertain, also, what progress they have made in arithmetic--how many can readily perform the elementary processes, and what number need instruction in these. After thus surveying the ground, let him form his plan, and lay out his whole strength in carrying forward as rapidly as possible the _whole school_ in these studies. By this means he is acting most directly and powerfully on the intelligence of the whole future community in that place. He is opening to fifty or a hundred minds stores of knowledge which they will go on exploring for years to come. What a descent now from such a work as this to the mere hearing of the recitation of two or three boys in Trigonometry! I repeat it, that a thorough and enlightened survey of the whole school should be taken, and plans formed for elevating the whole mass in those great branches of knowledge which are to be of immediate practical use to them in future life. If the school is one more advanced in respect to the age and studies of the pupils, the teacher should, in the same manner, before he forms his plans, consider well what are the great objects which he has to accomplish. He should ascertain what is the existing state of his school both as to knowledge and character; how long, generally, his pupils are to remain under his care; what are to be their future stations and conditions in life, and what objects he can reasonably hope to effect for them while they remain under his influence. By means of this forethought and consideration he will be enabled to work understandingly. It is desirable, too, that what I have recommended in reference to the whole school should be done in respect to the case of each individual. When a new pupil comes under your charge, ascertain (by other means, however, than formal examination) to what stage his education has advanced, and deliberately consider what objects you can reasonably expect to effect for him while he remains under your care. You can not, indeed, always form your plans to suit so exactly your general views in regard to the school and to individuals as you could wish. But these general views will, in a thousand cases, modify your plans, or affect in a greater or less degree all your arrangements. They will keep you to a steady purpose, and your work will go on far more systematically and regularly than it would do if, as in fact many teachers do, you were to come headlong into your school, take things just as you find them, and carry them forward at random without end or aim. This survey of your field being made, you are prepared to commence definite operations, and the great difficulty in carrying your plans into effect is how to act more efficiently on _the greatest numbers at a time._ The whole business of public instruction, if it goes on at all, must go on by the teacher's skill in multiplying his power, by acting on _numbers at once._ In most books on education we are taught, almost exclusively, how to operate on the _individual_. It is the error into which theoretic writers almost always fall. We meet in every periodical, and in every treatise, and, in fact, in almost every conversation on the subject, with remarks which sound very well by the fireside, but they are totally inefficient and useless in school, from their being apparently based upon the supposition that the teacher has but _one_ pupil to attend to at a time. The great question in the management of schools is not how you can take _one_ scholar, and lead him forward most rapidly in a prescribed course, but how you can classify and arrange _numbers_, comprising every possible variety both as to knowledge and capacity, so as to carry them all forward effectually together. The extent to which a teacher may multiply his power by acting on numbers at a time is very great. In order to estimate it, we must consider carefully what it is when carried to the greatest extent to which it is capable of being carried under the most favorable circumstances. Now it is possible for a teacher to speak so as to be easily heard by three hundred persons, and three hundred pupils can be easily so seated as to see his illustrations or diagrams. Now suppose that three hundred pupils, all ignorant of the method of reducing fractions to a common denominator, and yet all old enough to learn, are collected in one room. Suppose they are all attentive and desirous of learning, it is very plain that the process may be explained to the whole at once, so that half an hour spent in that exercise would enable a very large proportion of them to understand the subject. So, if a teacher is explaining to a class in Grammar the difference between a noun and verb, the explanation would do as well for several hundred as for the dozen who constitute the class, if arrangements could only be made to have the hundreds hear it; but there are, perhaps, only a hundred pupils in the school, and of these a large part understand already the point to be explained, and another large part are too young to attend to it. I wish the object of these remarks not to be misunderstood. I do not recommend the attempt to teach on so extensive a scale; I admit that it is impracticable; I only mean to show in what the impracticability consists, namely, in the difficulty of making such arrangements as to derive the full benefit from the instructions rendered. The instructions of the teacher are, _in the nature of things,_ available to the extent I have represented, but in actual practice the full benefit can not be derived. Now, so far as we thus fall short of this full benefit, so far there is, of course, waste; and it is difficult or impossible to make such arrangements as will avoid the waste, in this manner, of a large portion of every effort which the teacher makes. A very small class instructed by an able teacher is like a factory of a hundred spindles, with a water-wheel of power sufficient for a thousand. In such a case, even if the owner, from want of capital or any other cause, can not add the other nine hundred, he ought to know how much of his power is in fact unemployed, and make arrangements to bring it into useful exercise as soon as he can. The teacher, in the same manner, should understand what is the full beneficial effect which it is possible, _in theory_, to derive from his instructions. He should understand, too, that just so far as he falls short of this full effect there is waste. It may be unavoidable; part of it unquestionably is, like the friction of machinery, unavoidable. Still, it is waste; and it ought to be so understood, that, by the gradual perfection of the machinery, it may be more and more fully prevented. Always bear in mind, then, when you are devoting your time to two or three individuals in a class, that your are losing a large part of your labor. Your instructions are conducive to good effect only to the one tenth or one twentieth of the extent to which, under more favorable circumstances, they might be made available. And though you can not always avoid this loss, you ought to be aware of it, and so to shape your measures as to diminish it as much as possible. We come now to consider the particular measures to be adopted in giving instruction. The objects which are to be secured in the management of the classes are twofold: 1. Recitation. 2. Instruction. These two objects are, it is plain, entirely distinct. Under the latter is included all the explanation, and assistance, and additional information which the teacher may give his pupils, and under the former, such an _examination_ of individuals as is necessary to secure their careful attention to their lessons. It is unsafe to neglect either of these points. If the class meetings are mere _recitations_, they soon become dull and mechanical; the pupils generally take little interest in their studies, and imbibe no literary spirit. Their intellectual progress will, accordingly, suddenly cease the moment they leave school, and so cease to be called upon to recite lessons. On the other hand, if _instruction_ is all that is aimed at, and _recitation_ (by which I mean, as above explained, such an examination of individuals as is necessary to ascertain that they have faithfully performed the tasks assigned) is neglected, the exercise soon becomes not much more than a lecture, to which those, and those only, will attend who please. The business, therefore, of a thorough examination of the class must not be omitted. I do not mean that each individual scholar must every day be examined, but simply that the teacher must, in some way or other, satisfy himself by reasonable evidence that the whole class are really prepared. A great deal of ingenuity may be exercised in contriving means for effecting this object in the shortest possible time. I know of no part of the field of a teacher's labors which may be more facilitated by a little ingenuity than this. One teacher, for instance, has a spelling lesson to hear. He begins at the head of the line, and putting one word to each boy, goes regularly down, each successive pupil calculating the chances whether a word which he can accidentally spell will or will not come to him. If he spells it, the teacher can not tell whether he is prepared or not. That word is only one among fifty constituting the lesson. If he misses it, the teacher can not decide that he was unprepared. It might have been a single accidental error. Another teacher, hearing the same lesson, requests the boys to bring their slates, and, as he dictates the words one after another, requires all to write them. After they are all written, he calls upon the pupils to spell them aloud as they have written them, simultaneously, pausing a moment after each, to give those who are wrong an opportunity to indicate it by some mark opposite the word misspelled. They all count the number of errors and report them. He passes down the class, glancing his eye at the work of each one to see that all is right, noticing particularly those slates which, from the character of the boys, need a more careful inspection. A teacher who had never tried this experiment would be surprised at the rapidity with which such work will be performed by a class after a little practice. Now how different are these two methods in their actual results! In the latter case the whole class are thoroughly examined. In the former not a single member of it is. Let me not be understood to recommend exactly this method of teaching spelling as the best one to be adopted in all cases. I only bring it forward as an illustration of the idea that a little machinery, a little ingenuity in contriving ways of acting on the _whole_ rather than on individuals, will very much promote the teacher's designs. In order to facilitate such plans, it is highly desirable that the classes should be trained to military precision and exactness in these manipulations. What I mean by this may perhaps be best illustrated by describing a case: it will show, in another branch, how much will be gained by acting upon numbers at once instead of upon each individual in succession. Imagine, then, that a teacher requested all the pupils of his school who could write to take out their slates at the hour for a general exercise. As soon as the first bustle of opening and shutting the desks was over, he looked around the room, and saw some ruling lines across their slates, others wiping them all over on both sides with sponges, others scribbling, or writing, or making figures. "All those," says he, speaking, however, with a pleasant tone and with a pleasant look, "who have taken out any thing besides slates, may rise." Several, in various parts of the room, stood up. "All those who have written any thing since they took out their slates may rise too, and those who have wiped their slates." "When all were up, he said to them, though not with a frown or a scowl, as if they had committed a great offense, "Suppose a company of soldiers should be ordered to _form a line_, and instead of simply obeying that order they should all set at work, each in his own way, doing something else. One man at one end of the line begins to load and fire his gun; another takes out his knapsack and begins to eat his luncheon; a third amuses himself by going as fast as possible through the exercise; and another still, begins to march about hither and thither, facing to the right and left, and performing all the evolutions he can think of. What should you say to such a company as that?" The boys laughed. "It is better," said the teacher, "when numbers are acting under the direction of one, that they should all act _exactly together_. In this way we advance much faster than we otherwise should. Be careful, therefore, to do exactly what I command, and nothing more. "_Provide a place on your slates large enough to write a single line_," added the teacher, in a distinct voice. I print his orders in Italics, and his remarks and explanations in Roman letters. "_Prepare to write_. "I mean by this," he continued, "that you place your slates before you with your pencils at the place where you are to begin, so that all may commence precisely at the same instant." The teacher who tries such an experiment as this will find at such a juncture an expression of fixed and pleasant attention upon every countenance in school. All will be intent, all will be interested. Boys love order, and system, and acting in concert, and they will obey with great alacrity such commands as these if they are good-humoredly, though decidedly expressed. The teacher observed in one part of the room a hand raised, indicating that the boy wished to speak to him. He gave him liberty by pronouncing his name. "I have no pencil," said the boy. A dozen hands all around him were immediately seen fumbling in pockets and desks, and in a few minutes several pencils were reached out for his acceptance. The boy looked at the pencils and then at the teacher; he did not exactly know whether he was to take one or not. "All those boys," said the teacher, pleasantly, "who have taken out pencils, may rise. "Have these boys done right or wrong?" "Right;" "Wrong;" "Right," answered their companions, variously. "Their motive was to help their class-mate out of his difficulties; that is a good feeling, certainly." "Yes, sir, right;" "Right." "But I thought you promised me a moment ago," replied the teacher, "not to do any thing unless I commanded it. Did I ask for pencils?" A pause. "I do not blame these boys at all in this case; still, it is better to adhere rigidly to the principle of _exact obedience _ when numbers are acting together. I thank them, therefore, for being so ready to assist a companion, but they must put their pencils away, as they were taken out without orders." Now such a dialogue as this, if the teacher speaks in a good-humored, though decided manner, would be universally well received in any school. Whenever strictness of discipline is unpopular, it is rendered so simply by the ill-humored and ill-judged means by which it is attempted to be introduced. But all children will love strict discipline if it is pleasantly, though firmly maintained. It is a great, though very prevalent mistake, to imagine that boys and girls like a lax and inefficient government, and dislike the pressure of steady control. What they dislike is sour looks and irritating language, and they therefore very naturally dislike every thing introduced or sustained by means of them. If, however, exactness and precision in all the operations of a class and of the school are introduced and enforced in the proper manner, that is, by a firm, but mild and good-humored authority, scholars will universally be pleased with them. They like to see the uniform appearance, the straight line, the simultaneous movement. They like to feel the operation of system, and to realize, while they are at the school-room, that they form a community, governed by fixed and steady laws, firmly but kindly administered. On the other hand, laxity of discipline, and the disorder which will result from it, will only lead the pupils to contemn their teacher and to hate their school. By introducing and maintaining such a discipline as I have described, great facilities will be secured for examining the classes. For example, to take a case different from the one before described, let us suppose that a class have been performing a number of examples in Addition. They come together to the recitation, and, under one mode of managing classes, the teacher is immediately beset by a number of the pupils with excuses. One had no slate; another was absent when the lesson was assigned; a third performed the work, but it got rubbed out, and a fourth did not know what was to be done. The teacher stops to hear all these, and to talk about them, fretting himself, and fretting the delinquents by his impatient remarks. The rest of the class are waiting, and, having nothing good to do, the temptation is almost irresistible to do something bad. One boy is drawing pictures on his slate to make his neighbors laugh, another is whispering, and two more are at play. The disorder continues while the teacher goes round examining slate after slate, his whole attention being engrossed by each individual, as the pupils come to him successively, while the rest are left to themselves, interrupted only by an occasional harsh, or even angry, but utterly useless rebuke from him. But, under another mode of managing classes and schools, a very different result would be produced. A boy approaches the teacher to render an excuse; the teacher replies, addressing himself, however, to the whole class, "I shall give all an opportunity to offer their excuses presently. No one must come till he is called." The class then regularly take their places in the recitation seats, the prepared and unprepared together. The following commands are given and obeyed promptly. They are spoken pleasantly, but still in the tone of command. "The class may rise. "All those that are not fully prepared with this lesson may sit." A number sit; and others, doubtful whether they are prepared or not, or thinking that there is something peculiar in their cases, which they wish to state, raise their hands, or make any other signal which is customary to indicate a wish to speak. Such a signal ought always to be agreed upon, and understood in school. The teacher shakes his head, saying, "I will hear you presently. If there is, on any account whatever, any doubt whether you are prepared, you must sit. "Those that are standing may read their answers to No. 1. Unit figure?" _Boys._ "Five." _Teacher._ "Tens?" _B._ "Six." _T._ "Hundreds?" _B._ "Seven." While these numbers are thus reading, the teacher looks at the boys, and can easily see whether any are not reading their own answers, but only following the rest. If they have been trained to speak exactly together, his ear will also at once detect any erroneous answer which any one may give. He takes down the figures given by the majority on his own slate, and reads them aloud. "This is the answer obtained by the majority; it is undoubtedly right. Those who have different answers may sit." These directions, if understood and obeyed, would divide the class evidently into two portions. Those standing have their work done, and done correctly, and those sitting have some excuse or error to be examined. A new lesson may now be assigned, and the first portion may be dismissed, which in a well-regulated school will be two thirds of the class. Their slates may be slightly examined as they pass by the teacher on their way to their seats to see that all is fair; but it will be safe to take it for granted that a result in which a majority agree will be right. Truth is consistent with itself, but error, in such a case, never is. This the teacher can at any time show by comparing the answers that are wrong; they will always be found, not only to differ from the correct result, but to contradict each other. The teacher may now, if he pleases, after the majority of the class have gone, hear the reasons of those who were unprepared, and look for the errors of those whose work was incorrect; but it is better to spend as little time as possible in such a way. If a scholar is not prepared, it is not of much consequence whether it is because he forgot his book or mistook the lesson; or if it is ascertained that his answer is incorrect, it is ordinarily a mere waste of time to search for the particular error. "I have looked over my work, sir," says the boy, perhaps, "and I can not find where it is wrong." He means by it that he does not believe that it is wrong. "It is no matter if you can not," would be the proper reply, "since it certainly is wrong; you have made a mistake in adding somewhere, but it is not worth while for me to spend two or three minutes apiece with all of you to ascertain where. Try to be careful next time." Indeed the teacher should understand and remember what many teachers are very prone to forget, namely, that the mere fact of finding an arithmetical error in a pupil's work on the slate, and pointing it out to him, has very little effect in correcting the false habit in his mind from which it arose. The cases of those who are unprepared at a recitation ought by no means to be passed by unnoticed, although it would be unwise to spend much time in examining each in detail. "It is not of much consequence," the teacher might say, "whether you have good excuses or bad, so long as you are not prepared. In future life you will certainly be unsuccessful if you fail, no matter for what reason, to discharge the duties which devolve upon you. A carpenter, for instance, would certainly lose his custom if he should not perform his work faithfully and in season. Excuses, no matter how reasonable, will do him little good. It is just so in respect to punctuality in time as well as in respect to performance of duty. What we want is that every boy should be in his place at the proper moment; not that he should be late, and have good excuses for it. When you come to be men, tardiness will always be punished. Excuses will not help the matter at all. Suppose, hereafter, when you are about to take a journey, you reach the pier five minutes after the steamer has gone, what good will excuses do you? There you are, left hopelessly behind, no matter if your excuses are the best in the world. So in this school. I want good punctuality and good recitations, not good excuses. I hope every one will be prepared to-morrow." [Illustration] It is not probable, however, that every one would be prepared the next day in such a case, but by acting steadily on these principles the number of delinquencies would be so much diminished that the very few which should be left could easily be examined in detail, and the remedies applied. Simultaneous recitation, by which I mean the practice of addressing a question to all the class to be answered by all together, is a practice which has been for some years rapidly extending in our schools, and, if adopted with proper limits and restrictions, is attended with great advantage. The teacher must guard against some dangers, however, which will be likely to attend it. 1. Some will answer very eagerly, instantly after the question is completed. They wish to show their superior readiness. Let the teacher mention this, expose kindly the motive which leads to it, and tell them it is as irregular to answer before the rest as after them. 2. Some will defer their answers until they can catch those of their comrades for a guide. Let the teacher mention this fault, expose the motive which leads to it, and tell them that if they do not answer independently and at once, they had better not answer at all. 3. Some will not answer at all. The teacher can see by looking around the room who do not, for they can not counterfeit the proper motion of the lips with promptness and decision unless they know what the answer is to be. He ought occasionally to say to such a one, "I perceive you do not answer," and ask him questions individually. 4. In some cases there is danger of confusion in the answers, from the fact that the question may be of such a nature that the answer is long, and may by different individuals be differently expressed. This evil must be guarded against by so shaping the question as to admit of a reply in a single word. In reading large numbers, for example, each figure may be called for by itself, or they may be given one after another, the pupils keeping exact time. When it is desirable to ask a question to which the answer is necessarily long it may be addressed to an individual, or the whole class may write their replies, which may then be read in succession. In a great many cases where simultaneous answering is practiced, after a short time the evils above specified are allowed to grow, until at last some half a dozen bright members of a class answer for all, the rest dragging after them, echoing their replies, or ceasing to take any interest in an exercise which brings no personal and individual responsibility upon them. To prevent this, the teacher should exercise double vigilance at such a time. He should often address questions to individuals alone, especially to those most likely to be inattentive and careless, and guard against the ingress of every abuse which might, without close vigilance, appear. With these cautions, the method here alluded to will be found to be of very great advantage in many studies; for example, all the arithmetical tables may be recited in this way; words may be spelled, answers to sums given, columns of figures added, or numbers multiplied, and many questions in history, geography, and other miscellaneous studies answered, especially the general questions asked for the purpose of a review. But, besides being useful as a mode of examination, this plan of answering questions simultaneously is a very important means of fixing in the mind any facts which the teacher may communicate to his pupils. If, for instance, he says some day to a class that Vasco de Gama was the discoverer of the passage round the Cape of Good Hope, and leaves it here, in a few days not one in twenty will recollect the name. But let him call upon them all to spell it simultaneously, and then to pronounce it distinctly three or four times in concert, and the word will be very strongly impressed upon their minds. The reflecting teacher will find a thousand cases in the instruction of his classes, and in his general exercises in the school, in which this principle will be of great utility. It is universal in its application. What we _say_ we fix, by the very act of saying it, in the mind. Hence, reading aloud, though a slower, is a far more thorough method of acquiring knowledge than reading silently, and it is better, in almost all cases, whether in the family, or in Sabbath or common schools, when general instructions are given, to have the leading points fixed in the mind by questions answered simultaneously. But we are wandering a little from our subject, which is, in this part of our chapter, the methods of _examining_ a class, not of giving or fixing instructions. Another mode of examining classes, which it is important to describe, consists in requiring _written answers_ to the questions asked. The form and manner in which this plan may be adopted is various. The class may bring their slates to the recitation, and the teacher may propose questions successively, the answers to which all the class may write, numbering them carefully. After a dozen answers are written, the teacher may call at random for them, or he may repeat a question, and ask each pupil to read the answer he had written, or he may examine the slates. Perhaps this method may be very successfully employed in reviews by dictating to the class a list of questions relating to the ground they have gone over for a week, and then instructing them to prepare answers written out at length, and to bring them in at the next exercise. This method may be made more formal still by requiring a class to write a full and regular abstract of all they have learned during a specified time. The practice of thus reducing to writing what has been learned will be attended with many advantages so obvious that they need not be described. It will be perceived that three methods of examining classes have now been named, and these will afford the teacher the means of introducing a very great variety in his mode of conducting his recitations, while he still carries his class forward steadily in their prescribed course. Each is attended with its peculiar advantages. The _single replies,_ coming from individuals specially addressed, are more rigid, and more to be relied upon, but they consume a great deal of time, and, while one is questioned, it requires much skill to keep up interest in the rest. The _simultaneous answers_ of a class awaken more general interest, but it is difficult, without special care, to secure by this means a special examination of all. The _written replies_ are more thorough, but they require more time and attention, and while they habituate the pupil to express himself in writing, they would, if exclusively adopted, fail to accustom him to an equally important practice, that of the oral communication of his thoughts. A constant variety, of which these three methods should be the elements, is unquestionably the best mode. We not only, by this means, secure in a great degree the advantages which each is fitted to produce, but we gain also the additional advantage and interest of variety. By these, and perhaps by other means, it is the duty of the teacher to satisfy himself that his pupils are really attentive to their duties. It is not perhaps necessary that every individual should be every day minutely examined; this is, in many cases, impossible; but the system of examination should be so framed and so administered as to be daily felt by all, and to bring upon every one a daily responsibility. * * * * * We come now to consider the second general head which was to be discussed in this chapter. The study of books alone is insufficient to give knowledge to the young. In the first stage, learning to read a book is of no use whatever without the voice of the living teacher. The child can not take a step alone. As the pupil, however, advances in his course, his dependence upon his teacher for guidance and help continually diminishes, until at last the scholar sits in his solitary study, with no companion but his books, and desiring, for a solution of every difficulty, nothing but a larger library. In schools, however, the pupils have made so little progress in this course, that they all need more or less of the oral assistance of a teacher. Difficulties must be explained; questions must be answered; the path must be smoothed, and the way pointed out by a guide who has traveled it before, or it will be impossible for the pupil to go on. This is the part of our subject which we now approach. The great principle which is to guide the teacher in this part of his duty is this: _Assist your pupils in such a way as to lead them, as soon as possible, to do without assistance._ This is fundamental. In a short time they will be away from your reach; they will have no teacher to consult; and unless you teach them how to understand books themselves, they must necessarily stop suddenly in their course the moment you cease to help them forward. I shall proceed, therefore, to consider the subject in the following plan: 1. Means of exciting interest in study. 2. The kind and decree of assistance to be rendered. 3. Miscellaneous suggestions. 1. Interesting the pupils in their studies. There are various principles of human nature which may be of great avail in accomplishing this object. Making intellectual effort and acquiring knowledge are always pleasant to the human mind, unless some peculiar circumstances render them otherwise. The teacher has, therefore, only to remove obstructions and sources of pain, and the employment of his pupils will be of itself a pleasure. "I am going to give you a new exercise to-day," said a teacher to a class of boys in Latin. "I am going to have you parse your whole lesson in writing. It will be difficult, but I think you may be able to accomplish it." The class looked surprised. They did not know _what parsing in writing_ could be. "You may first, when you take your seats, and are ready to prepare the lesson, write upon your slates a list of the ten first nouns that you find in the lesson, arranging them in a column. Do you understand so far?" "Yes, sir." "Then rule lines for another column, just beyond this. In parsing nouns, what is the first particular to be named?" "What the noun is from." "Yes; that is, its nominative. Now you may write, at the head of the first column, the word _Nouns_, and at the head of the second, _Nom._, for nominative. Then rule a line for the third column. What shall this contain!" "The declension." "Yes; and the fourth?" "Gender." "The fifth?" "Number." In the same manner the other columns were designated. The sixth was to contain case; the seventh, the word with which the noun was connected in construction; and the eighth, a reference to the rule. "Now I wish you," continued the teacher, "to fill up such a table as this with _ten_ nouns. Do you understand how I mean?" "Yes, sir;" "No, sir," they answered, variously. "All who do understand may take their seats, as I wish to give as little explanation as possible. The more you can depend upon yourselves, the better." Those who saw clearly what was to be done left the class, and the teacher continued his explanation to those who were left behind. He made the plan perfectly clear to them by taking a particular noun and running it through the table, showing what should be written opposite to the word in all the columns, and then dismissed them. The class separated, as every class would, in such a case, with a strong feeling of interest in the work before them. It was not so difficult as to perplex them, and yet it required attention and care. They were interested and pleased--pleased with the effort which it required them to make, and they anticipated, with interest and pleasure, the time of coming again to the class to report and compare their work. When the time for the class came, the teacher addressed them somewhat as follows: "Before looking at your slates, I am going to predict what the faults are. I have not seen any of your work, but shall judge altogether from my general knowledge of school-boys, and the difficulties I know they meet with. Do you think I shall succeed?" The scholars made no reply, and an unskillful teacher would imagine that time spent in such remarks would be wholly wasted. By no means. The influence of them was to awaken universal interest in the approaching examination of the slates. Every scholar would be intent, watching, with eager interest, to see whether the imagined faults would be found upon his work. The class was, by that single pleasant remark, put into the best possible state for receiving the criticisms of the teacher. "The first fault which I suppose will be found is that some are unfinished." The scholars looked surprised. They did not expect to have that called a fault. "How many plead guilty to it?" A few raised their hands, and the teacher continued: "I suppose that some will be found partly effaced. The slates were not laid away carefully, or they were not clean, so that the writing is not distinct. How many find this the case with their work?" "I suppose that, in some cases, the lines will not be perpendicular, but will slant, probably toward the left, like writing. "I suppose, also, that, in some cases, the writing will be careless, so that I can not easily read it. How many plead guilty to this?" After mentioning such other faults as occurred to him, relating chiefly to the form of the table, and the mere mechanical execution of the work, he said, "I think I shall not look at your slates to-day. You can all see, I have no doubt, how you can considerably improve them in mechanical execution in your next lesson; and I suppose you would a little prefer that I should not see your first imperfect efforts. In fact, I should rather not see them. At the next recitation they probably will be much better." One important means by which the teacher may make his scholars careful of their reputation is to show them, thus, that he is careful of it himself. Now in such a case as this, for it is, except in the principles which it is intended to illustrate, imaginary, a very strong interest would be awakened in the class in the work assigned them. Intellectual effort in new and constantly varied modes is in itself a pleasure, and this pleasure the teacher may deepen and increase very easily by a little dexterous management, designed to awaken curiosity and concentrate attention. It ought, however, to be constantly borne in mind that this variety should be confined to the modes of pursuing an object--the object itself being permanent, and constant, and steadily pursued. For instance, if a little class are to be taught simple addition, after the process is once explained, which may be done, perhaps, in two or three lessons, they will need many days of patient practice to render it familiar, to impress it firmly in their recollection, and to enable them to work with rapidity. Now this object must be steadily pursued. It would be very unwise for the teacher to say to himself, My class are tired of addition; I must carry them on to subtraction, or give them some other study. It would be equally unwise to keep them many days performing example after example in monotonous succession, each lesson a mere repetition of the last. He must steadily pursue his object of familiarizing them fully with this elementary process, but he may give variety and spirit to the work by changing occasionally the modes. One week He may dictate examples to them, and let them come together to compare their results, one of the class being appointed to keep a list of all who are correct each day. At another time each one may write an example, which he may read aloud to all the others, to be performed and brought in at the next time. Again, he may let them work on paper with pen and ink, that he may see how few mistakes they make, as mistakes in ink can not be easily removed. He may excite interest by devising ingenious examples, such as finding out how much all the numbers from one to fifty will make when added together, or the amount of the ages of the whole class, or any such investigation, the result of which they might feel an interest in learning. Thus the object is steadily pursued, though the means of pursuing it are constantly changing. We have the advantage of regular progress in the acquisition of knowledge truly valuable, while this progress is made with all the spirit and interest which variety can give. The necessity of making such efforts as this, however, to keep up the interest of the class in their work, and to make it pleasant to them, will depend altogether upon circumstances; or, rather, it will vary much with circumstances. A class of pupils somewhat advanced in their studies, and understanding and feeling the value of knowledge, will need very little of such effort as this; while young and giddy children, who have been accustomed to dislike books and school, and every thing connected with them, will need more. It ought, however, in all cases, to be made a means, not an end--the means to lead on a pupil to an _interest in progress in knowledge itself,_ which is, after all, the great motive which ought to be brought as soon and as extensively as possible to operate in the school-room. Another way to awaken interest in the studies of the school is to bring out, as frequently and as distinctly as possible, the connection between these studies and the practical business of life. The events which are occurring around you, and which interest the community in which you are placed, may, by a little ingenuity, be connected in a thousand ways with the studies of the school. If the practice, which has been already repeatedly recommended, of appropriating a quarter of an hour each day to a general exercise, should be adopted, it will afford great facilities for doing this. There is no branch of study attended to in school which may, by judicious efforts, be made more effectual in accomplishing this object, leading the pupils to see the practical utility and the value of knowledge, than composition. If such subjects as are suitable themes for _moral essays_ are assigned, the scholars will indeed dislike the work of writing, and derive little benefit from it. The mass of pupils in our schools are not to be writers of moral essays or orations, and they do not need to form that style of empty, florid, verbose declamation which the practice of writing composition in our schools, as it is too frequently managed, tends to form. Assign practical subjects--subjects relating to the business of the school, or the events taking place around you. Is there a question before the community on the subject of the location of a new school-house? Assign it to your pupils as a question for discussion, and direct them not to write empty declamation, but to obtain from their parents the real arguments in the case, and to present them distinctly and clearly, and in simple language, to their companions. Was a building burned by lightning in the neighborhood? Let those who saw the scene describe it, their productions to be read by the teacher aloud, and let them see that clear descriptions please, and that good legible writing can be read fluently, and that correct spelling, and punctuation, and grammar make the article go smoothly and pleasantly, and enable it to produce its full effect. Is the erection of a public building going forward in the neighborhood of your school? You can make it a very fruitful source of subjects and questions to give interest and impulse to the studies of the school-room. Your classes in geometry may measure, your arithmeticians may calculate and make estimates, your writers may describe its progress from week to week, and anticipate the scenes which it will in future years exhibit. By such means the practical bearings and relations of the studies of the school-room may be constantly kept in view; but I ought to guard the teacher, while on this subject, most distinctly against the danger of making the school-room a scene of literary amusement instead of study. These means of awakening interest and relieving the tedium of the uninterrupted and monotonous study of text-books must not encroach on the regular duties of the school. They must be brought forward with judgment and moderation, and made subordinate and subservient to these regular duties. Their design is to give spirit and interest, and a feeling of practical utility to what the pupils are doing; and if resorted to with these restrictions and within these limits, they will produce powerful, but safe results. Another way to excite interest, and that of the right kind, in school, is not to _remove_ difficulties, but to teach the pupils how to _surmount_ them. A text-book so contrived as to make study mere play, and to dispense with thought and effort, is the worst text-book that can be made, and the surest to be, in the end, a dull one. The great source of literary enjoyment, which is the successful exercise of intellectual power, is, by such a mode of presenting a subject, cut off. Secure, therefore, severe study. Let the pupil see that you are aiming to secure it, and that the pleasure which you expect that they will receive is that of firmly and patiently encountering and overcoming difficulty; of penetrating, by steady and persevering effort, into regions from which the idle and the inefficient are debarred, and that it is your province to lead them forward, not to carry them. They will soon understand this, and like it. Never underrate the difficulties which your pupils will have to encounter, or try to persuade them that what you assign is _easy_. Doing easy things is generally dull work, and it is especially discouraging and disheartening for a pupil to spend his strength in doing what is really difficult for him when his instructor, by calling his work easy, gives him no credit for what may have been severe and protracted labor. If a thing is really hard for the pupil, his teacher ought to know it and admit it. The child then feels that he has some sympathy. It is astonishing how great an influence may be exerted over a child by his simply knowing that his efforts are observed and appreciated. You pass a boy in the street wheeling a heavy load in a barrow; now simply stop to look at him, with a countenance which says, "That is a heavy load; I should not think that boy could wheel it;" and how quick will your look give fresh strength and vigor to his efforts. On the other hand, when, in such a case, the boy is faltering under his load, try the effect of telling him, "Why, that is not heavy; you can wheel it easily enough; trundle it along." The poor boy will drop his load, disheartened and discouraged, and sit down upon it in despair. It is so in respect to the action of the young in all cases. They are animated and incited by being told _in the right way_ that they have something difficult to do. A boy is performing some service for you. He is watering your horse, perhaps, at a well by the road-side as you are traveling. Say to him, "Hold up the pail high, so that the horse can drink; it is not heavy." [Illustration] He will be discouraged, and will be ready to set the pail down. Say to him, on the other hand, "I had better dismount myself. I don't think you can hold the pail up. It is very heavy;" and his eye will brighten up at once. "Oh no, sir," he will reply, "I can hold it very easily." Hence, even if the work you are assigning to a class _is_ easy, do not tell them so unless you wish to destroy all their spirit and interest in doing it; and if you wish to excite their spirit and interest, make your work difficult, and let them see that you know it is so; not so difficult as to tax their powers too heavily, but enough so to require a vigorous and persevering effort. Let them distinctly understand, too, that you know it is difficult, that you mean to make it so, but that they have your sympathy and encouragement in the efforts which it calls them to make. You may satisfy yourself that human nature is, in this respect, what I have described by some such experiment as the following. Select two classes not very familiar with elementary arithmetic, and offer to each of them the following example in addition: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 etc., etc. The numbers may be continued, according to the obvious law regulating the above, until each one of the nine digits has commenced the line. Or, if you choose Multiplication, let the example be this: Multiply 123456789 by 123456789 --------- Now, when you bring the example to one of the classes, address the pupils as follows: "I have contrived for you a very difficult sum. It is the most difficult one that can be made with the number of figures contained in it, and I do not think that any of you can do it, but you may try. I shall not be surprised if every answer should contain mistakes." To the other class say as follows: "I have prepared an example for you, which I wish you to be very careful to perform correctly. It is a little longer than those you have had heretofore, but it is to be performed upon the same principles, and you can all do it correctly, if you really try." Now under such circumstances the first class will go to their seats with ardor and alacrity, determined to show you that they can do work, even if it is difficult; and if they succeed, they come to the class the next day with pride and pleasure. They have accomplished something which you admit it was not easy to accomplish. On the other hand, the second class will go to their seats with murmuring looks and words, and with a hearty dislike of the task you have assigned them. They know that they have something to do, which, however easy it may be to the teacher, is really difficult for them; and they have to be perplexed and wearied with the work, without having, at last, even the little satisfaction of knowing that the teacher appreciates the difficulties with which they had to contend. 2. We now come to consider the subject of rendering assistance to the pupil, which is one of the most important and delicate parts of a teacher's work. The great difference which exists among teachers in regard to the skill they possess in this part of their duty, is so striking that it is very often noticed by others; and perhaps skill here is of more avail in deciding the question of success or failure than any thing besides. The first great principle is, however, simple and effectual. _(1.) Divide and subdivide a difficult process, until your steps are so short that the pupil can easily take them._ Most teachers forget the difference between the pupil's capacity and their own, and they pass rapidly forward, through a difficult train of thought, in their own ordinary gait, their unfortunate followers vainly trying to keep up with them. The case is precisely analogous to that of the father, who walks with the step of a man, while his little son is by his side, wearying and exhausting himself with fruitless efforts to reach his feet as far, and to move them as rapidly as a full-grown man. But to show what I mean by subdividing a difficult process so as to make each step simple, I will take a case which may serve as an example. I will suppose that the teacher of a common school undertakes to show his boys, who, we will suppose, are acquainted with nothing but elementary arithmetic, how longitude is determined by means of the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites; not a very simple question, but still one which, like all others, may be, merely by the power of the subdivision alluded to, easily explained. I will suppose that the subject has come up at a general exercise; perhaps the question was asked in writing by one of the older boys. I will present the explanation chiefly in the form of question and answer, that it may be seen that the steps are so short that the boys may take them themselves. "Which way," asks the teacher, "are the Rocky Mountains from us?" "West," answer two or three of the boys. In such cases as this, it is very desirable that the answers should be general, so that throughout the school there should be a spirited interest in the questions and replies. This will never be the case if a small number of the boys only take part in the answers, and many teachers complain that when they try this experiment they can seldom induce many of the pupils to take a part. The reason ordinarily is that they say that _any_ of the boys may answer instead of that _all_ of them may. The boys do not get the idea that it is wished that a universal reply should come from all parts of the room, in which every one's voice should be heard. If the answers were feeble in the instance we are supposing, the teacher would perhaps say, "I only heard one or two answers; do not more of you know where the Rocky Mountains are? Will you all think and answer together? Which way are they from us?" "West," answer a large number of boys. "You do not answer fully enough yet; I do not think more than forty answered, and there are about sixty here. I should like to have _every one in the room_ answer, and all precisely together." He then repeats the question, and obtains a full response. A similar effort will always succeed. "Now does the sun, in going round the earth, pass over the Rocky Mountains, or over us, first?" To this question the teacher hears a confused answer. Some do not reply; some say, "Over the Rocky Mountains;" others, "Over us;" and others still, "The sun does not move at all." "It is true that the sun, strictly speaking, does not move; the earth turns round, presenting the various countries in succession to the sun, but the effect is precisely the same as it would be if the sun moved, and, accordingly, I use that language. Now how long does it take the sun to pass round the earth?" "Twenty-four hours." "Does he go toward the west or toward the east from us?" "Toward the west." But it is not necessary to give the replies; the questions alone will be sufficient. The reader will observe that they inevitably lead the pupil, by short and simple steps, to a clear understanding of the point to be explained. "Will the sun go toward or from the Rocky Mountains after leaving us?" "How long did you say it takes the sun to go round the globe and come to us again?" "How long to go half round?" "Quarter round?" "How long will it take him to go to the Rocky Mountains?" No answer. "You can not tell. It would depend upon the distance. Suppose, then, the Rocky Mountains were half round the globe, how long would it take the sun to go to them?" "Suppose they were quarter round?" "The whole distance is divided into portions called degrees--360 in all. How many will the sun pass in going half round?" "In going quarter round?" "Ninety degrees, then, make one quarter of the circumference of the globe. This, you have already said, will take six hours. In one hour, then, how many degrees will the sun pass over?" Perhaps no answer. If so, the teacher will subdivide the question on the principle we are explaining, so as to make the steps such that the pupils _can_ take them. "How many degrees will the sun pass over in three hours?" "Forty-five." "How large a part of that, then, will he pass in one hour?" "One third of it." "And what is one third of forty-five?" The boys would readily answer fifteen, and the teacher would then dwell for a moment on the general truth thus deduced, that the sun, in passing round the earth, passes over fifteen degrees every hour. "Suppose, then, it takes the sun one hour to go from us to the River Mississippi, how many degrees west of us would the river be?" Having thus familiarized the pupils to the fact that the motion of the sun is a proper measure of the difference of longitude between two places, the teacher must dismiss the subject for a day, and when the next opportunity of bringing it forward occurs, he would, perhaps, take up the subject of the sun's motion as a measure _of time._ "Is the sun ever exactly over our heads?" "Is he ever exactly south of us?" "When he is exactly south of us, or, in other words, exactly opposite to us in his course round the earth, he is said to be in our meridian; for the word meridian means a line drawn exactly north or south from any place." There is no limit to the simplicity which may be imparted, even to the most difficult subjects, by subdividing the steps. This point, for instance, the meaning of meridian, may be the subject, if it were necessary, of many questions, which would render it simple to the youngest child. The teacher may point to the various articles in the room, or buildings, or other objects without, and ask if they are or are not in his meridian. But to proceed: "When the sun is exactly opposite to us, in the south, at the highest point to which he rises, what o'clock is it?" "When the sun is exactly opposite to us, can he be opposite to the Rocky Mountains?" "Does he get opposite to the Rocky Mountains before or after he is opposite to us?" "When he is opposite to the Rocky Mountains, what o'clock is it there?" "Is it twelve o'clock here, then, before or after it is twelve o'clock there?" "Suppose the River Mississippi is fifteen degrees from us, how long is it twelve o'clock here before it is twelve o'clock there?" "When it is twelve o'clock here, then, what time will it be there?" Some will probably answer "one," and some "eleven." If so, the step is too long, and may be subdivided thus: "When it is noon here, is the sun going toward the Mississippi, or has he passed it?" "Then has noon gone by at that river, or has it not yet come?" "Then will it be one hour before or one hour after noon?" "Then will it be eleven or one?" Such minuteness and simplicity would, in ordinary cases, not be necessary. I go into it here merely to show how, by simply subdividing the steps, a subject ordinarily perplexing may be made plain. The reader will observe that in the above there are no explanations by the teacher--there are not even leading questions; that is, there are no questions the form of which suggests the answers desired. The pupil goes on from step to step simply because he has but one short step to take at a time. "Can it be noon, then," continues the teacher, "here and at a place fifteen degrees west of us at the same time?" "Can it be noon here and at a place ten miles west of us at the same time?" It is unnecessary to continue the illustration, for it will be very evident to every reader that, by going forward in this way, the whole subject may be laid out before the pupils so that they shall perfectly understand it. They can, by a series of questions like the above, be led to see, by their own reasoning, that time, as denoted by the clock, must differ in every two places not upon the same meridian, and that the difference must be exactly proportional to the difference of longitude. So that a watch which is right in one place can not, strictly speaking, be right in any other place east or west of the first; and that, if the time of day at two places can be compared, either by taking a chronometer from one to another, or by observing some celestial phenomenon, like the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites, and ascertaining precisely the time of their occurrence, according to the reckoning at both, the distance east or west by degrees may be determined. The reader will observe, too, that the method by which this explanation is made is strictly in accordance with the principle I am illustrating, which is by simply _dividing the process into short steps._ There is no ingenious reasoning on the part of the teacher, no happy illustrations, no apparatus, no diagrams. It is a pure process of mathematical reasoning, made clear and easy by _simple analysis._ In applying this method, however, the teacher should be very careful not to subdivide too much. It is best that the pupils should walk as fast as they can. The object of the teacher should be to smooth the path not much more than barely enough to enable the pupil to go on. He should not endeavor to make it very easy. (2.) Truths must not only be taught to the pupils, but they must _fixed_, and _made familiar._ This is a point which seems to be very generally overlooked. "Can you say the Multiplication Table?" said a teacher to a boy who was standing before him in his class. "Yes, sir." "Well, I should like to have you say the line beginning nine times one." The boy repeated it slowly, but correctly. "Now I should like to have you try again, and I will, at the same time, say another line, to see if I can put you out." The boy looked surprised. The idea of his teacher's trying to perplex and embarrass him was entirely new. "You must not be afraid," said the teacher. "You will undoubtedly not succeed in getting through, but you will not be to blame for the failure. I only try it as a sort of intellectual experiment." The boy accordingly began again, but was soon completely confused by the teacher's accompaniment. He stopped in the middle of his line, saying, "I could say it, only you put me out." "Well, now try to say the Alphabet, and let me see if I can put you out there." As might have been expected, the teacher failed. The boy went regularly onward to the end. "You see, now," said the teacher to the class who had witnessed the experiment, "that this boy knows his Alphabet in a different sense from that in which he knows his Multiplication Table. In the latter, his knowledge is only imperfectly his own; he can make use of it only under favorable circumstances. In the former it is entirely his own; circumstances have no control over him." A child has a lesson in Latin Grammar to recite. She hesitates and stammers, miscalls the cases, and then corrects herself, and, if she gets through at last, she considers herself as having recited well, and very many teachers would consider it well too. If she hesitates a little longer than usual in trying to summon to her recollection a particular word, she says, perhaps, "Don't tell me," and if she happens at last to guess right, she takes her book with a countenance beaming with satisfaction. "Suppose you had the care of an infant school," might the instructor say to such a scholar, "and were endeavoring to teach a little child to count, and she should recite her lesson to you in this way, 'One, two, four--no, three--one, two, three----stop, don't tell me--five--no, four--four--five--------I shall think in a minute--six--is that right? five, six,' &c. Should you call that reciting well?" Nothing is more common than for pupils to say, when they fail of reciting their lesson, that they could say it at their seats, but that they can not now say it before the class. When such a thing is said for the first time it should not be severely reproved, because nine children in ten honestly think that if the lesson were learned so that it could be recited any where, their duty is discharged. But it should be kindly, though distinctly explained to them, that in the business of life they must have their knowledge so much at command that they can use it at all times and in all circumstances, or it will do them little good. One of the most common cases of difficulty in pursuing mathematical studies, or studies of any kind where the succeeding lessons depend upon those which precede, is the fact that the pupil, though he may understand what precedes, is not _familiar_ with it. This is very strikingly the case with Geometry. The class study the definitions, and the teacher supposes they fully understand them; in fact, they do _understand_ them, but the name and the thing are so feebly connected in their minds that a direct effort and a short pause are necessary to recall the idea when they hear or see the word. When they come on, therefore, to the demonstrations, which in themselves would be difficult enough, they have double duty to perform. The words used do not readily suggest the idea, and the connection of the ideas requires careful study. Under this double burden many a young geometrician sinks discouraged. A class should go on slowly, and dwell on details so long as to fix firmly and make perfectly familiar whatever they undertake to learn. In this manner the knowledge they acquire will become their own. It will be incorporated, as it were, into their very minds, and they can not afterward be deprived of it. The exercises which have for their object this rendering familiar what has been learned may be so varied as to interest the pupil very much, instead of being tiresome, as it might at first be supposed. Suppose, for instance, a teacher has explained to a large class in grammar the difference between an adjective and an adverb; if he leave it here, in a fortnight one half of the pupils would have forgotten the distinction, but by dwelling upon it a few lessons he may fix it forever. The first lesson might be to require the pupils to write twenty short sentences containing only adjectives. The second to write twenty containing only adverbs. The third to write sentences in two forms, one containing the adjective, and the other expressing the same idea by means of the adverb, arranging them in two columns, thus: He writes well. | His writing is good. Again, they may make out a list of adjectives, with the adverbs derived from each in another column. Then they may classify adverbs on the principle of their meaning, or according to their termination. The exercise may be infinitely varied, and yet the object of the whole may be to make _perfectly familiar_, and to fix forever in the mind the distinction explained. These two points seem to me to be fundamental, so far as assisting pupils through the difficulties which lie in their way is concerned. Diminish the difficulties as far as is necessary by shortening and simplifying the steps, and make thorough work as you go on. These principles, carried steadily into practice, will be effectual in leading any mind through any difficulties which may occur. And though they can not, perhaps, be fully applied to every mind in a large school, yet they can be so far acted upon in reference to the whole mass as to accomplish the object for a very large majority. 3. _General cautions_. A few miscellaneous suggestions, which we shall include under this head, will conclude this chapter. (1.) Never do any thing _for_ a scholar, but teach him to do it for himself. How many cases occur in the schools of our country where the boy brings his slate to the teacher, saying he can not do a certain sum. The teacher takes the slate and pencil, performs the work in silence, brings the result, and returns the slate to the hands of his pupil, who walks off to his seat, and goes to work on the next example, perfectly satisfied with the manner in which he is passing on. A man who has not done this a hundred times himself will hardly believe it possible that such a practice can prevail, it is so evidently a mere waste of time both for master and scholar. (2.) Never get out of patience with dullness. Perhaps I ought to say, never get out of patience with any thing. That would, perhaps, be the wisest rule. But, above all things, remember that dullness and stupidity--and you will certainly find them in every school--are the very last things to get out of patience with. If the Creator has so formed the mind of a boy that he must go through life slowly and with difficulty, impeded by obstructions which others do not feel, and depressed by discouragements which others never know, his lot is surely hard enough without having you to add to it the trials and suffering which sarcasm and reproach from you can heap upon him. Look over your school-room, therefore, and wherever you find one whom you perceive the Creator to have endued with less intellectual power than others, fix your eye upon him with an expression of kindness and sympathy. Such a boy will have suffering enough from the selfish tyranny of his companions; he ought to find in you a protector and friend. One of the greatest enjoyments which a teacher's life affords is the interest of seeking out such a one, bowed down with burdens of depression and discouragement, unaccustomed to sympathy and kindness, and expecting nothing for the future but a weary continuation of the cheerless toils which have imbittered the past; and the pleasure of taking off the burden, of surprising the timid, disheartened sufferer by kind words and cheering looks, and of seeing in his countenance the expression of ease and even of happiness gradually returning. (3.) The teacher should be interested in _all_ his scholars, and aim equally to secure the progress of all. Let there be no neglected ones in the school-room. We should always remember that, however unpleasant in countenance and manners that bashful boy in the corner may be, or however repulsive in appearance, or unhappy in disposition, that girl, seeming to be interested in nobody, and nobody appearing interested in her, they still have, each of them, a mother, who loves her own child, and takes a deep and constant interest in its history. Those mothers have a right, too, that their children should receive their full share of attention in a school which has been established for the common and equal benefit of all. (4.) Do not hope or attempt to make all your pupils alike. Providence has determined that human minds should differ from each other for the very purpose of giving variety and interest to this busy scene of life. Now if it were possible for a teacher so to plan his operations as to send his pupils forth upon the community formed on the same model, as if they were made by machinery, he would do so much toward spoiling one of the wisest of the plans which the Almighty has formed for making this world a happy scene. Let it be the teacher's aim to co-operate with, not vainly to attempt to thwart, the designs of Providence. We should bring out those powers with which the Creator has endued the minds placed under our control. We must open our garden to such influences as shall bring forward all the plants, each in a way corresponding to its own nature. It is impossible if it were wise, and it would be foolish if it were possible, to stimulate, by artificial means, the rose, in hope of its reaching the size and magnitude of the apple-tree, or to try to cultivate the fig and the orange where wheat only will grow. No; it should be the teacher's main design to shelter his pupils from every deleterious influence, and to bring every thing to bear upon the community of minds before him which will encourage in each one the development of its own native powers. For the rest, he must remember that his province is to cultivate, not to create. Error on this point is very common. Many teachers, even among those who have taken high rank through the success with which they have labored in the field, have wasted much time in attempting to do what never can be done, to form the character of those brought under their influence after a certain uniform model, which they have conceived as the standard of excellence. Their pupils must write just such a hand, they must compose in just such a style, they must be similar in sentiment and feeling, and their manners must be formed according to a fixed and uniform model; and when, in such a case, a pupil comes under their charge whom Providence has designed to be entirely different from the beau ideal adopted as the standard, more time, and pains, and anxious solicitude is wasted in vain attempts to produce the desired conformity than half the school require beside. (5.) Do not allow the faults or obliquities of character, or the intellectual or moral wants of any individual of your pupils to engross a disproportionate share of your time. I have already said that those who are peculiarly in need of sympathy or help should receive the special attention they seem to require; what I mean to say now is, do not carry this to an extreme. When a parent sends you a pupil who, in consequence of neglect or mismanagement at home, has become wild and ungovernable, and full of all sorts of wickedness, he has no right to expect that you shall turn your attention away from the wide field which, in your whole school-room, lies before you, to spend your time, and exhaust your spirits and strength in endeavoring to repair the injuries which his own neglect has occasioned. When you open a school, you do not engage, either openly or tacitly, to make every pupil who may be sent to you a learned or a virtuous man. You do engage to give them all faithful instruction, and to bestow upon each such a degree of attention as is consistent with the claims of the rest. But it is both unwise and unjust to neglect the many trees in your nursery which, by ordinary attention, may be made to grow straight and tall, and to bear good fruit, that you may waste your labor upon a crooked stick, from which all your toil can secure very little beauty or fruitfulness. Let no one now understand me to say that such cases are to be neglected. I admit the propriety, and, in fact, have urged the duty, of paying to them a little more than their due share of attention. What I now condemn is the practice, of which all teachers are in danger, of devoting such a disproportionate and unreasonable degree of attention to them as to encroach upon their duties to others. The school, the whole school, is your field, the elevation _of the mass_ in knowledge and virtue, and no individual instance, either of dullness or precocity, should draw you away from its steady pursuit. (6.) The teacher should guard against unnecessarily imbibing those faulty mental habits to which his station and employment expose him. Accustomed to command, and to hold intercourse with minds which are immature and feeble compared with our own, we gradually acquire habits that the rough collisions and the friction of active life prevent from gathering around other men. Narrow-minded prejudices and prepossessions are imbibed through the facility with which, in our own little community, we adopt and maintain opinions. A too strong confidence in our own views on every subject almost inevitably comes from never hearing our opinions contradicted or called in question, and we express those opinions in a tone of authority, and even sometimes of arrogance, which we acquire in the school-room, for there, when we speak, nobody can reply. These peculiarities show themselves first, and, in fact, most commonly, in the school-room; and the opinions thus formed very often relate to the studies and management of the school. One has a peculiar mode of teaching spelling, which is successful almost entirely through the magic influence of his interest in it, and he thinks no other mode of teaching this branch is even tolerable. Another must have all his pupils write on the angular system, or the anti-angular system, and he enters with all the zeal into a controversy on the subject, as if the destiny of the whole rising generation depended upon its decision. Tell him that all that is of any consequence in any handwriting is that it should be legible, rapid, and uniform, and that, for the rest, it would be better that every human being should write a different hand, and he looks upon you with astonishment, wondering that you can not see the vital importance of the question whether the vertex of an _o_ should, be pointed or round. So in every thing. He has _his way_ in every minute particular--a way from which he can not deviate, and to which he wishes every one else to conform. This set, formal mannerism is entirely inconsistent with that commanding intellectual influence which the teacher should exert in the administration of his school. He should work with what an artist calls boldness and freedom of touch. Activity and enterprise of mind should characterize all his measures if he wishes to make bold, original, and efficient men. (7.) Assume no false appearances in your school either as to knowledge or character. Perhaps it may justly be said to be the common practice of teachers in this country to affect a dignity of deportment in the presence of their pupils which in other cases is laid aside, and to pretend to superiority in knowledge and an infallibility of judgment which no sensible man would claim before other sensible men, but which an absurd fashion seems to require of the teacher. It can, however, scarcely be said to be a fashion, for the temptation is almost exclusively confined to the young and the ignorant, who think they must make up by appearance what they want in reality. Very few of the older, and more experienced, and successful instructors in our country fall into it at all; but some young beginner, whose knowledge is very limited, and who, in manner and habits, has only just ceased to be a boy, walks into his school-room with a countenance of forced gravity, and with a dignified and solemn step, which is ludicrous even to himself. I describe accurately, for I describe from recollection. This unnatural, and forced, and ludicrous dignity cleaves to him like a disease through the whole period of his duty. In the presence of his scholars he is always under restraint, assuming a stiff and formal dignity which is as ridiculous as it is unnatural. He is also obliged to resort to arts which are certainly not very honorable to conceal his ignorance. A scholar, for example, brings him a sum in arithmetic which he does not know how to perform. This may be the case with a most excellent teacher, and one well qualified for his business. In order to be successful as a teacher, it is not necessary to understand every thing. Instead, however, of saying frankly, "I do not understand that example; I will examine it," he looks at it embarrassed and perplexed, not knowing how he shall escape the exposure of his ignorance. His first thought is to give some general directions to the pupil, and send him to his seat to make a new experiment, hoping that in some way or other, he scarcely knows how, he will get through; and, at any rate, if he should not, the teacher thinks that he himself at least gains time by the manoeuvre, and he is glad to postpone his trouble, though he knows it must soon return. All efforts to conceal ignorance, and all affectation of knowledge not possessed, are as unwise as they are dishonest. If a scholar asks a question which you can not answer, or brings you a difficulty which you can not solve, say frankly, "I do not know." It is the only way to avoid continual anxiety and irritation, and the surest means of securing real respect. Let the scholars understand that the superiority of the teacher does not consist in his infallibility, or in his universal acquisitions, but in a well-balanced mind, where the boundary between knowledge and ignorance is distinctly marked; in a strong desire to go forward in mental improvement, and in fixed principles of action and systematic habits. You may even take up in school a study entirely new to you, and have it understood at the outset that you know no more of it than the class commencing, but that you can be their guide on account of the superior maturity and discipline of your powers, and the comparative ease with which you can meet and overcome difficulties. This is the understanding which ought always to exist between master and scholars. The fact that the teacher does not know every thing can not long be concealed if he tries to conceal it, and in this, as in every other case, HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY. CHAPTER IV. MORAL DISCIPLINE. Under the title which I have placed at the head of this chapter I intend to discuss the methods by which the teacher is to secure a moral ascendency over his pupils, so that he may lead them to do what is right, and bring them back to duty when they do what is wrong. I shall use, in what I have to say, a very plain and familiar style; and as very much depends not only on the general principles by which the teacher is actuated, but also on the tone and manner in which, in cases of discipline, he addresses his pupils, I shall describe particular cases, real and imaginary, because by this method I can better illustrate the course to be pursued. I shall also present and illustrate the various principles which I consider important, and in the order in which they occur to my mind. 1. The first duty, then, of the teacher when he enters his school is to beware of the danger of making an unfavorable impression at first upon his pupils. Many years ago, when I was a child, the teacher of the school where my early studies were performed closed his connection with the establishment, and after a short vacation another was expected. On the appointed day the boys began to collect, some from curiosity, at an early hour, and many speculations were started as to the character of the new instructor. We were standing near a table with our hats on--and our position, and the exact appearance of the group, is indelibly fixed on my memory--when a small and youthful-looking man entered the room, and walked up toward us. Supposing him to be some stranger, or, rather, not making any supposition at all, we stood looking at him as he approached, and were thunder-struck at hearing him accost us with a stern voice and sterner brow, "Take off your hats. Take off your hats and go to your seats." The conviction immediately rushed upon our minds that this must be our new teacher. The first emotion was that of surprise, and the second was that of the ludicrous, though I believe we contrived to smother the laugh until we got out into the open air. So long since was this little occurrence that I have entirely forgotten the name of the teacher, and have not the slightest recollection of any other act in his administration of the school. But this recollection of his first greeting of his pupils, and the expression of his countenance at the moment, will go with me to the end of life. So strong are first impressions. Be careful, then, when you first see your pupils, that you meet them with a smile. I do not mean a pretended cordiality, which has no existence in the heart, but think of the relation which you are to sustain to them, and think of the very interesting circumstances under which, for some months at least, your destinies are to be united to theirs, until you can not help feeling a strong interest in them. Shut your eyes for a day or two to their faults, if possible, and take an interest in all their pleasures and pursuits, that the first attitude in which you exhibit yourself before them may be one which shall allure, not repel. 2. In endeavoring to correct the faults of your pupils, do not, as many teachers do, seize only upon _those particular cases_ of transgression which may happen to come under your notice. These individual instances are very few, probably, compared with the whole number of faults against which you ought to exert an influence. And though you perhaps ought not to neglect those which may accidentally come under your notice, yet the observing and punishing such cases is a very small part of your duty. You accidentally hear, I will suppose, as you are walking home from school, two of your boys in earnest conversation, and one of them uses profane language. Now the course to be pursued in such a case is, most evidently, not to call the boy to you the next day and punish him, and there let the matter rest. This would, perhaps, be better than nothing. But the chief impression which it would make upon the individual and upon the other scholars would be, "I must take care how I _let the master hear me_ use such language again." A wise teacher, who takes enlarged and extended views of his duty in regard to the moral progress of his pupils, would act very differently. He would look at the whole subject. "Does this fault," he would say to himself, "prevail among my pupils? If so, how extensively? It is comparatively of little consequence to punish the particular transgression. The great point is to devise some plan to reach the whole evil, and to correct it if possible." In one case where such a circumstance occurred, the teacher managed it most successfully in the following manner. He said nothing to the boy, and, in fact, the boy did not know that he was overheard. He allowed a day or two to elapse, so that the conversation might be forgotten, and then took an opportunity one day, after school, when all things had gone on pleasantly, and the school was about to be closed, to bring forward the whole subject. He told the boys that he had something to say to them after they had laid by their books and were ready to go home. The desks were soon closed, and every face in the room was turned toward the master with a look of fixed attention. It was almost evening. The sun had gone down. The boys' labors were over. Their duties for the day were over; their minds were at rest, and every thing was favorable for making a deep and permanent impression. "A few days ago," says the teacher, when all was still, "I accidentally overheard some conversation between two of the boys of this school, and one of them swore." There was a pause. "Perhaps you expect that I am now going to call the boy out and punish him. Is that what I ought to do?" There was no answer. "I think a boy who uses bad language of any kind does what he knows is wrong. He breaks God's commands. He does what he knows would be displeasing to his parents, and he sets a bad example. He does wrong, therefore, and justly deserves punishment." There were, of course, many boys who felt that they were in danger. Every one who had used profane language was aware that he might be the one who had been overheard, and, of course, all were deeply interested in what the teacher was saying. "He might, I say," continued the teacher, "justly be punished; but I am not going to punish him; for if I should, I am afraid that it would only make him a little more careful hereafter not to commit this sin when I could possibly be within hearing, instead of persuading him, as I wish to, to avoid such a sin in future altogether. I am satisfied that that boy would be far happier, even in this world, if he would make it a principle always to do his duty, and never, in any case, to do wrong. And then, when I think how soon he and all of us will be in another world, where we shall all be judged for what we do here, I feel strongly desirous of persuading him to abandon entirely this practice. I am afraid that punishing him now would not do that. "Besides," continues the teacher, "I think it very probable that there are many other boys in this school who are sometimes guilty of this fault, and I have thought that it would be a great deal better and happier for us all if, instead of punishing this particular boy whom I have accidentally overheard, and who probably is not more to blame than many other boys in school, I should bring up the whole subject, and endeavor to persuade all the boys to reform." I am aware that there are, unfortunately, in our country a great many teachers from whose lips such an appeal as this would be wholly in vain. The man who is accustomed to scold, and storm, and punish with unsparing severity every transgression, under the influence of irritation and anger, must not expect that he can win over his pupils to confidence in him and to the principles of duty by a word. But such an appeal will not be lost when it comes from a man whose daily and habitual management corresponds with it. But to return to the story: The teacher made some farther remarks, explaining the nature of the sin, not in the language of execration and affected abhorrence, but calmly, temperately, and without any disposition to make the worst of the occurrence which had taken place. In concluding what he said, he addressed the boys as follows: "Now, boys, the question is, do you wish to abandon this habit or not? If you do, all is well. I shall immediately forget all the past, and will do all I can to help you resist and overcome temptation in future. But all I can do is only to help you; and the first thing to be done, if you wish to engage in this work of reform, is to acknowledge your fault; and I should like to know how many are willing to do this." "I wish all those who are willing to tell me whether they use profane language would rise." Every individual but one rose. "I am very glad to see so large a number," said the teacher; "and I hope you will find that the work of confessing and forsaking your faults is, on the whole, pleasant, not painful business. Now those who can truly and honestly say that they never do use profane language of any kind may take their seats." Three only of the whole number, which consisted of not far from twenty, sat down. It was in a sea-port town, where the temptation to yield to this vice is even greater than would be, in the interior of our country, supposed possible. "Those who are now standing," pursued the teacher, "admit that they do, sometimes at least, commit this sin. I suppose all, however, are determined to reform; for I do not know what else should induce you to rise and acknowledge it here, unless it is a desire hereafter to break yourselves of the habit. But do you suppose that it will be enough for you merely to resolve here that you will reform?" "No, sir," said the boys. "Why not? If you now sincerely determine never more to use a profane word, will you not easily avoid it?" The boys were silent. Some said faintly, "No, sir." "It will not be easy for you to avoid the sin hereafter," continued the teacher, "even if you do now sincerely and resolutely determine to do so. You have formed the habit of sin, and the habit will not be easily overcome. But I have detained you long enough now. I will try to devise some method by which you may carry your plan into effect, and to-morrow I will tell you what it is." So the boys were dismissed for the day; the pleasant countenance and cheerful tone of the teacher conveying to them the impression that they were engaging in the common effort to accomplish a most desirable purpose, in which they were to receive the teacher's help, not that he was pursuing them, with threatening and punishment, into the forbidden practice into which they had wickedly strayed. Great caution is, however, in such a case, necessary to guard against the danger that the teacher, in attempting to avoid the tones of irritation and anger, should so speak of the sin as to blunt his pupils' sense of its guilt, and lull their consciences into a slumber. At the appointed time on the following day the subject was again brought before the school, and some plans proposed by which the resolutions now formed might be more certainly kept. These plans were readily and cheerfully adopted by the boys, and in a short time the vice of profaneness was, in a great degree, banished from the school. I hope the reader will keep in mind the object of the above illustration, which is to show that it is the true policy of the teacher not to waste his time and strength in contending against _such accidental instances_ of transgression as may chance to fall under his notice, but to take an enlarged and extended view of the whole ground, endeavoring to remove _whole classes of faults_--to elevate and improve _multitudes together_. By these means, his labors will not only be more effectual, but far more pleasant. You can not come into collision with an individual scholar, to punish him for a mischievous spirit, or even to rebuke him for some single act by which he has given you trouble, without an uncomfortable and uneasy feeling, which makes, in ordinary cases, the discipline of a school the most unpleasant part of a teacher's duty. But you can plan a campaign against a whole class of faults, and put into operation a system of measures to correct them, and watch from day to day the operation of that system with all the spirit and interest of a game. It is, in fact, a game where your ingenuity and moral power are brought into the field, in opposition to the evil tendencies of the hearts which are under your influence. You will notice the success or the failure of the means you may put into operation with all the interest with which the experimental philosopher observes the curious processes he guides, though your interest may be much purer and higher, for he works upon matter, but you are experimenting upon mind. Remember, then, as for the first time you take your new station at the head of your school, that it is not your duty simply to watch with an eagle eye for those accidental instances of transgression which may chance to fall under your notice. You are to look over the whole ground. You are to make yourself acquainted, as soon as possible, with the classes of character and classes of faults which may prevail in your dominions, and to form deliberate and well-digested plans for improving the one and correcting the other. And this is to be the course pursued not only with great delinquencies, such as those to which I have already alluded, but to every little transgression against the rules of order and propriety. You can correct them far more easily and pleasantly in the mass than in detail. To illustrate this principle by another case. A teacher, who takes the course I am condemning, approaches the seat of one of his pupils, and asks to see one of his books. As the boy opens his desk, the teacher observes that it is in complete disorder. Books, maps, papers, play-things, are there in promiscuous confusion, and, from the impulse of the moment, the displeased teacher pours out upon the poor boy a torrent of reproach. "What a looking desk! Why, John, I am really ashamed of you! Look!" continues he, holding up the lid, so that the boys in the neighborhood can look in; "see what a mass of disorder and confusion. If ever I see your desk in such a state again, I shall most certainly punish you." The boys around laugh, very equivocally, however, for, with the feeling of amusement, there is mingled the fear that the angry master may take it into his head to inspect their domains. The boy accidentally exposed looks sullen, and begins to throw his books into some sort of arrangement, just enough to shield himself from the charge of absolutely disobeying the injunction that he has received, and there the matter ends. Another teacher takes no apparent notice of the confusion which he thus accidentally witnesses. "I must take up," thinks he to himself, "the subject of order before the whole school. I have not yet spoken of it." He thanks the boy for the book he borrowed, and goes away. He makes a memorandum of the subject, and the boy does not know that the condition of his desk was noticed; perhaps he does not even know that there was any thing amiss. A day or two after, at a time regularly appropriated to such subjects, he addresses the boys as follows: "In our efforts to improve the school as much as possible, there is one subject which we must not forget. I mean the order of the desks." The boys all begin to open their desk lids. "You may stop a moment," says the teacher. "I shall give you all an opportunity to examine your desks presently. "I do not know what the condition of your desks is. I have not examined them, and have not, in fact, seen the inside of more than one or two. As I have not brought up this subject before, I presume that there are a great many which can be arranged better than they are. Will you all now look into your desks, and see whether you consider them in good order? Stop a moment, however. Let me tell you what good order is. All those things which are alike should be arranged together. Books should be in one place, papers in another, and thus every thing should be classified. Again, every thing should be so placed that it can be taken out without disturbing other things. There is another principle, also, which I will mention: the various articles should have _constant_ places, that is, they should not be changed from day to day. By this means you soon remember where every thing belongs, and you can put away your things much more easily every night than if you had every night to arrange them in a new way. Now will you look into your desks, and tell me whether they are, on these three principles, well arranged?" The boys of most schools, where this subject had not been regularly attended to, would nearly all answer in the negative. "I will allow you, then, some time to-day, fifteen minutes to arrange your desks, and I hope you will try to keep them in good order hereafter. A few days hence I shall examine them. If any of you wish for assistance or advice from me in putting them in order, I shall be happy to render it." By such a plan, which will occupy but little more time than the irritating and useless scolding which I supposed in the other case, how much more will be accomplished. Such an address would of itself, probably, be the means of putting in order, and keeping in order, at least one half of the desks in the room, and following up the plan in the same manner and in the same spirit with which it was begun would secure the rest. I repeat it, therefore, make it a principle in all cases to aim as much as possible at the correction of those faults which are likely to be general by _general measures_. You avoid by this means a vast amount of irritation and impatience, both on your own part and on the part of your scholars, and you produce twenty times the useful effect. 3. The next principle which occurs to me as deserving the teacher's attention in the outset of his course is this: Interest your scholars in doing something themselves to elevate the moral character of the school, so as to secure a _decided majority who will, of their own accord, co-operate with you._ Let your pupils understand, not by any formal speech which you make to that effect, but by the manner in which, from time to time, you incidentally allude to the subject, that you consider the school, when you commence it, as _at par_, so to speak--that is, on a level with other schools, and that your various plans for improving and amending it are not to be considered in the light of finding fault, and punishing transgressions, and controlling evil propensities, so as just to keep things in a tolerable state, but as efforts to improve and carry forward the institution to a still higher state of excellence. Such is the tone and manner of some teachers that they never appear to be more than merely satisfied. When the scholars do right, nothing is said about it. The teacher seems to consider that a matter of course. It does not appear to interest or please him at all. Nothing arouses him but when they do wrong, and that only excites him to anger and frowns. Now in such a case there can, of course, be no stimulus to effort on the part of the pupils but the cold and heartless stimulus of fear. Now it is wrong for the teacher to expect that things will go right in his school as a matter of course. All that he can expect _as a matter of course_ is, that things should go on as well as they do ordinarily in schools--the ordinary amount of idleness, the ordinary amount of misconduct. This is the most that he can expect to come as a matter of course. He should feel this, and then all he can gain which will be better than this will be a source of positive pleasure; a pleasure which his pupils have procured for him, and which, consequently, they should share. They should understand that the teacher is engaged in various plans for improving the school, in which they should be invited to engage, not from the selfish desire of thereby saving him trouble, but because it will really be happy employment for them to engage in such an enterprise, and because, by such efforts, their own moral powers will be exerted and strengthened in the best possible way. In another chapter I have explained to what extent, and in what manner, the assistance of the pupils may be usefully and successfully employed in carrying forward the general arrangements of the school. The same _principles_ will apply here, though perhaps a little more careful and delicate management is necessary in interesting them in subjects which relate to moral discipline. One important method of accomplishing this end is to present these plans before the minds of the scholars as experiments--moral experiments, whose commencement, progress, and results they may take a great interest in witnessing. Let us take, for example, the case alluded to under the last head--the plan of effecting a reform in regard to keeping desks in order. Suppose the teacher were to say, when the time had arrived at which he had promised to give them an opportunity to put the desks in order, "I think it would be a good plan to keep some account of our efforts for improving the school in this respect. We might make a record of what we do to-day, noting the day of the month and the number of desks which may be found to be disorderly. Then, at the end of any time you may propose, we will have the desks examined again, and see how many are disorderly then. We can thus see how much improvement has been made in that time. Should you like to adopt the plan?" If the boys should appear not much interested in the proposal, the teacher might, at his own discretion, waive it. In all probability, however, they would like it, and would indicate their interest by their countenances, or perhaps by a response. If so, the teacher might proceed. "You may all examine your desks, then, and decide whether they are in order or not. I do not know, however, but that we ought to appoint a committee to examine them; for perhaps all the boys would not be honest, and report their desks as they really are." "Yes, sir;" "yes, sir," say the boys. "Do you mean that you will be honest, or that you would like to have a committee appointed?" There was a confused murmur. Some answer one, and some the other. "I think," proceeds the teacher, "the boys will be honest, and report their desks just as they are. At any rate, the number of dishonest boys in this school can not be so large as materially to affect the result. I think we had better take your own statements. As soon as the desks are all examined, those who have found theirs in a condition which does not satisfy them are requested to rise and be counted." The teacher then looks around the room, and selecting some intelligent boy who has influence among his companions, and whose influence he is particularly desirous of enlisting on the side of good order, says, "Shall I nominate some one to keep an account of the number?" "Yes, sir," say the boys. "Well, I nominate William Jones. How many are in favor of requesting William Jones to perform this duty?" "It is a vote. William, I will thank you to write upon a piece of paper that on the 8th of December the subject of order in the desks was brought up, and that the boys resolved on making an effort to improve the school in this respect. Then say that the boys reported all their desks which they thought were disorderly, and that the number was thirty-five; and that after a week or two, the desks are to be examined again, and the disorderly ones counted, that we may see how much we have improved. After you have written it you may bring it to me, and I will tell you whether it is right." "How many desks do you think will be found to be disorderly when we come to make the examination?" The boys hesitate. The teacher names successively several numbers, and asks whether they think the real number will be greater or less. He notices their votes upon them, and at last fixes upon one which seems to be about the general sense of the school. Then the teacher himself mentions the number which he supposes will be found to be disorderly. His estimate will ordinarily be larger than that of the scholars, because he knows better how easily resolutions are broken. This number, too, is recorded, and then the whole subject is dismissed. Now, of course, no reader of these remarks will understand me to be recommending, by this imaginary dialogue, a particular course to be taken in regard to this subject, far less the particular language to be used. All I mean is to show by a familiar illustration how the teacher is to endeavor to enlist the interest and to excite the curiosity of his pupils in his plans for the improvement of his school, by presenting them as moral experiments, which they are to assist him in trying--experiments whose progress they are to watch, and whose results they are to predict. If the precise steps which I have described should actually be taken, although it would occupy but a few minutes, and would cause no thought and no perplexing care, yet it would undoubtedly be the means of awakening a very general interest in the subject of order throughout the school. All would be interested in the work of arrangement. All would watch, too, with interest the progress and the result of the experiment; and if, a few days afterward, the teacher should accidentally, in recess, see a disorderly desk, a good-humored remark made with a smile to the by-standers, "I suspect my prediction will turn out the correct one," would have far more effect than the most severe reproaches, or the tingling of a rap over the knuckles with a ratan. I know from experience that scholars of every kind can be led by such measures as these, or rather by such a spirit as this, to take an active interest, and to exert a most powerful influence in regard to the whole condition of the institution. I have seen the experiment successful in boys' schools and in girls' schools, among very little children, and among the seniors and juniors at college. In one of the colleges of New England a new and beautiful edifice was erected. The lecture-rooms were fitted up in handsome style, and the officers, when the time for the occupation of the building approached, were anticipating with regret what seemed to be the unavoidable defacing, and cutting, and marking of the seats and walls. It was, however, thought that if the subject was properly presented to the students, they would take an interest in preserving the property from injury. They were accordingly addressed somewhat as follows: "It seems, young gentlemen, to be generally the custom in colleges for the students to ornament the walls and benches of their recitation-rooms with various inscriptions and caricatures, so that after the premises have been for a short time in the possession of a class, every thing within reach, which will take an impression from a penknife or a trace from a pencil, is covered with names, and dates, and heads, and inscriptions of every kind. The faculty do not know what you wish in this respect in regard to the new accommodations which the trustees have now provided for you, and which you are soon to enter. They have had them fitted up for you handsomely, and if you wish to have them kept in good order, we will assist you. If the students think proper to express by a vote, or in any other way, their wish to keep them in good order, we will engage to have such incidental injuries as may from time to time occur immediately repaired. Such injuries will, of course, be done; for, whatever may be the wish and general opinion of the whole, it is not to be expected that every individual in so large a community will be careful. If, however, as a body, you wish to have the building preserved in its present state, and will, as a body, take the necessary precautions, we will do our part." [Illustration] The students responded to this appeal most heartily. They passed a vote expressing a desire to preserve the premises in order, and for many years, and, for aught I know, to the present hour, the whole is kept as a room occupied by gentlemen should be kept. At some other colleges, and those, too, sustaining the very highest rank among the institutions of the country, the doors of the public buildings are sometimes _studded with nails as thick as they can possibly be driven, and then covered with a thick coat of sand dried into the paint, as a protection from the knives of the students!!_ The particular methods by which the teacher is to interest his pupils in his various plans for their improvement can not be fully described here. In fact, it does not depend so much on the methods he adopts as upon the view which he himself takes of these plans, and the _tone and manner in which he speaks of them to his pupils_. A teacher, for example, perhaps on the first day of his labors in a new school, calls a class to read. They pretend to form a line, but it crooks in every direction. One boy is leaning back against a desk; another comes forward as far as possible, to get near the fire; the rest lounge in every position and in every attitude. John is holding up his book high before his face to conceal an apple from which he is endeavoring to secure an enormous bite. James is, by the same sagacious device, concealing a whisper which he is addressing to his next neighbor, and Moses is seeking amusement by crowding and elbowing the little boy who is unluckily standing next him. "What a spectacle!" says the master to himself, as he looks at this sad display. "What shall I do?" The first impulse is to break forth upon them at once with all the artillery of reproof, and threatening, and punishment. I have seen, in such a case, a scolding and frowning master walk up and down before such a class with a stern and angry air, commanding this one to stand back, and that one to come forward, ordering one boy to put down his book, and scolding at a second for having lost his place, and knocking the knees of another with his ruler because he was out of the line. The boys scowl at their teacher, and, with ill-natured reluctance, they obey just enough to escape punishment. Another teacher looks calmly at the scene, and says to himself, "What shall I do to remove effectually these evils? If I can but interest the boys in reform, it will be far more easy to effect it than if I attempt to accomplish it by the mere exercise of my authority." In the mean time things go on during the reading in their own way. The teacher simply _observes_. He is in no haste to commence his operations. He looks for the faults; watches, without seeming to watch, the movements which he is attempting to control. He studies the materials with which he is to work, and lets their true character develop itself. He tries to find something to approve in the exercise as it proceeds, and endeavors to interest the class by narrating some fact connected with the reading, or making some explanation which interests the boys. At the end of the exercise he addresses them, perhaps, as follows: "I have observed, boys, in some military companies, that the officers are very strict, requiring implicit and precise obedience. The men are required to form a precise line." (Here there is a sort of involuntary movement all along the line, by which it is very sensibly straightened.) "They make all the men stand erect" (at this word heads go up, and straggling feet draw in all along the class), "in the true military posture. They allow nothing to be done in the ranks but to attend to the exercise" (John hastily crowds his apple into his pocket), "and thus they regulate every thing in exact and steady discipline, so that all things go on in a most systematic and scientific manner. This discipline is so admirable in some countries, especially in Europe, where much greater attention is paid to military tactics than in our country, that I have heard it said by travelers that some of the soldiers who mount guard at public places look as much like statues as they do like living men. "Other commanders act differently. They let the men do pretty much as they please. So you will see such a company lounging into a line when the drum beats, as if they took little interest in what was going on. While the captain is giving his commands, one is eating his luncheon, another is talking with his next neighbor. Part are out of the line; part lounge on one foot; they hold their guns in every position; and, on the whole, present a very disorderly and unsoldier-like appearance. "I have observed, too, that boys very generally prefer to _see_ the strict companies, but perhaps they would prefer to _belong_ to the lax ones." "No, sir;" "No, sir," say the boys. "Suppose you all had your choice either to belong to a company like the first one I described, where the captain was strict in all his requirements, or to one like the latter, where you could do pretty much as you pleased, which should you prefer?" Unless I am entirely mistaken in my idea of the inclinations of boys, it would be very difficult to get a single honest expression of preference for the latter. They would say with one voice, "The first." "I suppose it would be so. You would be put to some inconvenience by the strict commands of the captain, but then you would be more than paid by the beauty of regularity and order which you would all witness. There is nothing so pleasant as regularity, and nobody likes regularity more than boys do. To show this, I should like to have you now form a line as exact as you can." After some unnecessary shoving and pushing, increased by the disorderly conduct of a few bad boys, a line is formed. Most of the class are pleased with the experiment, and the teacher takes no notice of the few exceptions. The time to attend to _them_ will come by-and-by. "Hands down." The boys obey. "Shoulders back." "There; there is a very perfect line." "Do you stand easily in that position?" "Yes, sir." "I believe your position is the military one now, pretty nearly; and military men study the postures of the human body for the sake of finding the one most easy; for they wish to preserve as much as possible of the soldiers' strength for the time of battle. I should like to try the experiment of your standing thus at the next lesson. It is a very great improvement upon your common mode. Are you willing to do it?" "Yes, sir," say the boys. "You will get tired, I have no doubt; for the military position, though most convenient and easy in the end, is not to be learned and fixed in practice without effort. In fact, I do not expect you will succeed the first day very well. You will probably become restless and uneasy before the end of the lesson, especially the smaller boys. I must excuse it, I suppose, if you do, as it will be the first time." By such methods as these the teacher will certainly secure a majority in favor of all his plans. But perhaps some experienced teacher, who knows from his own repeated difficulties with bad boys what sort of spirits the teacher of district schools has sometimes to deal with, may ask, as he reads this, "Do you expect that such a method as this will succeed in keeping your school in order? Why there are boys in almost every school whom you would no more coax into obedience and order in this way than you would persuade the northeast wind to change its course by reasoning." I know there are. And my readers are requested to bear in mind that my object is not to show how the whole government of the school may be secured, but how one important advantage may be gained, which will assist in accomplishing the object. All I should expect or hope for, by such measures as these, is _to interest and gain over to our side the majority_. What is to be done with those who can not be reached by such kinds of influence I shall endeavor presently to show. The object now is simply to gain the _majority_--to awaken a general interest, which you can make effectual in promoting your plans, and thus to narrow the field of discipline by getting those right who can be got right by such measures. Thus securing a majority to be on your side in the general administration of the school is absolutely indispensable to success. A teacher may, indeed, by the force of mere authority, so control his pupils as to preserve order in the schoolroom, and secure a tolerable progress in study, but the progress will be slow, and the cultivation of moral principle must be, in such a case, entirely neglected. The principles of duty can not be inculcated by fear; and though pain and terror must in many instances be called in to coerce an individual offender, whom milder measures will not reach, yet these agents, and others like them, can never be successfully employed as the ordinary motives to action. They can not produce any thing but mere external and heartless obedience in the presence of the teacher, with an inclination to throw off all restraint when the pressure of stern authority is removed. We should all remember that our pupils are but for a very short time under our direct control. Even when they are in school the most untiring vigilance will not enable us to watch, except for a very small portion of the time, any one individual. Many hours of the day, too, they are entirely removed from our inspection, and a few months will take them away from us altogether. Subjecting them, then, to mere external restraint is a very inadequate remedy for the moral evil to which they are exposed. What we aim at is to bring forward and strengthen an internal principle which will act when both parent and teacher are away, and control where external circumstances are all unfavorable. I have thus far, under this head, been endeavoring to show the importance of securing, by gentle measures, a majority of the scholars to cooperate with the teacher in his plans. The particular methods of doing this demand a little attention. (1.) The teacher should study human nature as it exhibits itself in the school-room by taking an interest in the sports and enjoyments of the pupils, and connecting, as much as possible, what is interesting and agreeable with the pursuits of the school, so as to lead the scholars to like the place. An attachment to the institution, and to the duties of it, will give the teacher a very strong hold upon the community of mind which exists there. (2.) Every thing which is unpleasant in the discipline of the school should be attended to, as far as possible, privately. Sometimes it is necessary to bring a case forward in public for reproof or punishment, but this is seldom required. In some schools it is the custom to postpone cases of discipline till the close of the day, and then, just before the boys are dismissed at night, all the difficulties are settled. Thus, day after day, the impression which is last made upon their minds is received from a season of suffering, and terror, and tears. Now such a practice may be attended with many advantages, but it seems to be, on the whole, unwise. Awing the pupils, by showing them the painful consequences of doing wrong, should be very seldom resorted to. It is far better to allure them by showing them the pleasures of doing right. Doing right is pleasant to every body, and no persons are so easily convinced of this, or, rather, so easily led to see it, as children. Now the true policy is to let them experience the pleasure of doing their duty, and they will easily be allured to it. In many cases, where a fault has been publicly committed, it seems, at first view, to be necessary that it should be publicly punished; but the end will, in most cases, be answered if it is _noticed_ publicly, so that the pupils may know that it received attention, and then the ultimate disposal of the case may be made a private affair between the teacher and the individual concerned. If, however, every case of disobedience, or idleness, or disorder, is brought out publicly before the school, so that all witness the teacher's displeasure and feel the effects of it (for to witness it is to feel its most unpleasant effects), the school becomes, in a short time, hardened to such scenes. Unpleasant associations become connected with the management of the school, and the scholars are prepared to do wrong with less reluctance, since the consequence is only a repetition of what they are obliged to see every day. Besides, if a boy does something wrong, and you severely reprove him in the presence of his class, you punish the class almost as much as you do him. In fact, in many cases you punish them more; for I believe it is almost invariably more unpleasant for a good boy to stand by and listen to rebukes, than for a bad boy to take them. Keep these things, therefore, as much as possible out of sight. Never bring forward cases of discipline except on mature deliberation, and for a distinct and well-defined purpose. (3.) Never bring forward a case of discipline of this kind unless you are sure that public opinion will go in your favor. If a case comes up in which the sympathy of the scholars is excited for the criminal in such a way as to be against yourself, the punishment will always do more harm than good. Now this, unless there is great caution, will often happen. In fact, it is probable that a very large proportion of the punishments which are ordinarily inflicted in schools only prepare the way for more offenses. It is, however, possible to bring forward individual cases in such a way as to produce a very strong moral effect of the right kind. This is to be done by seizing upon those peculiar emergencies which will arise in the course of the administration of a school, and which each teacher must watch for and discover himself. They can not be pointed out. I may, however, give a clearer idea of what is meant by such emergencies by an example. It is a case which actually occurred as here narrated. In a school where nearly all the pupils were faithful and docile, there were one or two boys who were determined to find amusement in those mischievous tricks so common in schools and colleges. There was one boy, in particular, who was the life and soul of all these plans. Devoid of principle, idle as a scholar, morose and sullen in his manners, he was, in every respect, a true specimen of the whole class of mischief-makers, wherever they are to be found. His mischief consisted, as usual, in such exploits as stopping up the keyhole of the door, upsetting the teacher's inkstand, or fixing something to his desk to make a noise and interrupt the school. It so happened that there was a standing feud between the boys of his neighborhood and those of another situated a mile or two from it. By his malicious activity he had stimulated this quarrel to a high pitch, and was very obnoxious to the boys of the other party. One day, when taking a walk, the teacher observed a number of boys with excited looks, and armed with sticks and stones, standing around a shoemaker's shop, to which his poor pupil had gone for refuge from them. They had got him completely within their power, and were going to wait until he should be wearied with his confinement and come out, when they were going to inflict upon him the punishment they thought he deserved. The teacher interfered, and by the united influence of authority, management, and persuasion, succeeded in effecting a rescue. The boy would probably have preferred to owe his safety to any one else than to the teacher whom he had so often tried to tease, but he was glad to escape in any way. The teacher said nothing about the subject, and the boy soon supposed it was entirely forgotten. But it was not forgotten. The teacher knew perfectly well that the boy would before long be at his old tricks again, and was reserving this story as the means of turning the whole current of public opinion against such tricks, should they again occur. One day he came to school in the afternoon, and found the room filled with smoke; the doors and windows were all closed, though, as soon as he came in, some of the boys opened them. He knew by this circumstance that it was roguery, not accident, which caused the smoke. He appeared not to notice it, however, said he was sorry it smoked, and asked the mischievous boy--for he was sure to be always near in such a case--to assist him in putting up the wood of the fire more compactly. The boy supposed that the smoke was understood to be accidental, and perhaps secretly laughed at the dullness of his master. In the course of the afternoon, the teacher ascertained by private inquiries that his suspicions were correct as to the author of the mischief. At the close of school, when the studies were ended, and the books laid away, he said to the scholars that he wanted to tell them a story. He then, with a pleasant tone and manner, gave a very minute, and, to the boys, a very interesting narrative of his adventure two or three weeks before, when he rescued this boy from his danger. He called him, however, simply _a boy_, without mentioning his name, or even hinting that he was a member of the school. No narrative could excite a stronger interest among an audience of school-boys than such a one as this, and no act of kindness from a teacher would make as vivid an impression as interfering to rescue a trembling captive from such a situation as the one this boy had been in. The scholars listened with profound interest and attention, and though the teacher said little about his share in the affair, and spoke of what he did as if it were a matter of course that he should thus befriend a boy in distress, an impression very favorable to himself must have been made. After he had finished his narrative, he said, "Now should you like to know who this boy was?" "Yes, sir," "Yes, sir," said they, eagerly. "It was a boy that you all know." The boys looked around upon one another. Who could it be? "He is a member of this school." There was an expression of fixed, and eager, and increasing interest on every face in the room. "He is here now," said the teacher, winding up the interest and curiosity of the scholars, by these words, to the highest pitch. "But I can not tell you his name; for what return do you think he made to me? To be sure it was no very great favor that I did him; I should have been unworthy the name of teacher if I had not done it for him, or for any boy in my school. But, at any rate, it showed my good wishes for him; it showed that I was his friend; and what return do you think he made me for it? Why, to-day he spent his time between schools in filling the room with smoke, that he might torment his companions here, and give me trouble, and anxiety, and suffering when I should come. If I should tell you his name, the whole school would turn against him for his ingratitude." The business ended here, and it put a stop, a final stop, to all malicious tricks in the school. Now it is not very often that so fine an opportunity occurs to kill, by a single blow, the disposition to do willful, wanton injury, as this circumstance afforded; but the principle illustrated by it, bringing forward individual cases of transgression in a public manner, only for the sake of the general effect, and so arranging what is said and done as to produce the desired effect upon the public mind in the highest degree, may very frequently be acted upon. Cases are continually occurring, and if the teacher will keep it constantly in mind, that when a particular case comes before the whole school, the object is an influence upon the whole, and not the punishment or reform of the guilty individual, he will insensibly so shape his measures as to produce the desired result. (4.) There should be a great difference made between the _measures which you take_ to prevent wrong, and the _feelings of displeasure which you express_ against the wrong when it is done. The former should be strict, authoritative, unbending; the latter should be mild and gentle. Your measures, if uniform and systematic, will never give offense, however powerfully you may restrain and control those subject to them. It is the morose look, the harsh expression, the tone of irritation and fretfulness, which is so unpopular in school. The sins of childhood are by nine tenths of mankind enormously overrated, and perhaps none overrate them more extravagantly than teachers. We confound the trouble they give us with their real moral turpitude, and measure the one by the other. Now if a fault prevails in school, one teacher will scold and fret himself about it day after day, until his scholars are tired both of school and of him; and yet he will _do_ nothing effectual to remove it. Another will take efficient and decided measures, and yet say very little on the subject, and the whole evil will be removed without suspending for a moment the good-humor and pleasant feeling which should prevail in school. The expression of your displeasure on account of any thing that is wrong will seldom or never do any good. The scholars consider it scolding; it is scolding; and though it may, in many cases, contain many sound arguments and eloquent expostulations, it operates simply as a punishment. It is unpleasant to hear it. General instruction must indeed be given, but not general reproof. (5.) Feel that in the management of the school _you_ are under obligation as well as the scholars, and let this feeling appear in all that you do. Your scholars wish you to dismiss school earlier than usual on some particular occasion, or to allow them an extra holiday. Show by the manner in which you consider and speak of the question that your main inquiry is what is _your duty_. Speak often of your responsibility to your employers--not formally, but incidentally and naturally, as you will speak if you feel this responsibility. It will assist very much, too, in securing cheerful, good-humored obedience to the regulations of the school, if you extend their authority over yourself. Not that the teacher is to have no liberty from which the scholars are debarred; this would be impossible. But the teacher should submit, himself, to every thing which he requires of his scholars, unless it is in cases where a different course is necessary. Suppose, for instance, a study-card, like the one described in a preceding chapter, is made so as to mark the time of recess and of study. The teacher, near the close of recess, is sitting with a group of his pupils around him, telling them some story. They are all interested, and they see he is interested. He looks at his watch, and shows by his manner that he is desirous of finishing what he is saying, but that he knows that the striking of the bell will cut short his story. Perhaps he says not a word about it, but his pupils see that he is submitting to the control which is placed over them; and when the card goes up, and he stops instantly in the middle of his sentence and rises with the rest, each one to go to his own place, to engage at once in their several duties, he teaches them a most important lesson, and in the most effectual way. Such a lesson of fidelity and obedience, and such an example of it, will have more influence than half an hour's scolding about whispering without leave, or a dozen public punishments. At least so I found it, for I have tried both. Show then continually that you see and enjoy the beauty of system and strict discipline, and that you submit to law yourself as well as require submission of others. (6.) Lead your pupils to see that they must share with you the credit or the disgrace which success or failure in the management of the school may bring. Lead them to feel this, not by telling them so, for there are very few things which can be impressed upon children by direct efforts to impress them, but by so speaking of the subject, from time to time, as to lead them to see that you understand it so. Repeat, with judicious caution, what is said of the school, both for and against it, and thus endeavor to interest the scholars in its public reputation. This feeling of interest in the institution may very easily be awakened. It sometimes springs up spontaneously, and, where it is not guided aright by the teacher, sometimes produces very bad effects upon the minds of the pupils in rival institutions. When two schools are situated near each other, evil consequences will result from this feeling, unless the teacher manages it so as to deduce good consequences. I recollect that in my boyish days there was a standing quarrel between the boys of a town school and an academy which were in the same village. We were all ready at any time, when out of school, to fight for the honor of our respective institutions, each for his own, but very few were ready to be diligent and faithful when in it, though it would seem that that might have been rather a more effectual means of establishing the point. If the scholars are led to understand that the school is to a great extent their institution, that they must assist to sustain its character, and that they share the honor of its excellence, if any honor is acquired, a feeling will prevail in the school which may be turned to a most useful account. (7.) In giving instruction on moral duty, the subject should generally be taken up in reference to imaginary cases, or cases which are unknown to most of the scholars. If this is done, the pupils feel that the object of bringing up the subject is to do good; whereas, if questions of moral duty are only introduced from time to time, when some prevailing or accidental fault in school calls for reproof, the feeling will be that the teacher is only endeavoring to remove from his own path a source of inconvenience and trouble. The most successful mode of giving general moral instruction that I have known, and which has been adopted in many schools with occasional variations of form, is the following: When the time has arrived, a subject is assigned, and small papers are distributed to the whole school, that all may write something concerning it. These are then read and commented on by the teacher, and become the occasion of any remarks which he may wish to make. The interest of the pupils is strongly excited to hear the papers read, and the instruction which the teacher may give produces a deeper effect when ingrafted thus upon something which originates in the minds of the pupils. To take a particular case. A teacher addresses his scholars thus: "The subject for the moral exercise to-day is _Prejudice_. Each one may take one of the papers which have been distributed, and you may write upon them any thing you please relating to the subject. As many as have thought of any thing to write may raise their hands." One or two only of the older scholars gave the signal. "I will mention the kinds of communications you can make, and perhaps what I say will suggest something to you. As fast as you think of any thing, you may raise your hands, and as soon as I see a sufficient number up, I will give directions to begin. "You can describe any case in which you have been prejudiced yourselves either against persons or things." Here a number of the hands went up. "You can mention any facts relating to antipathies of any kind, or any cases where you know other persons to be prejudiced. You can ask any questions in regard to the subject--questions about the nature of prejudice, or the causes of it, or the remedy for it." As he said this, many hands were successively raised, and at last directions were given for all to begin to write. Five minutes were allowed, and at the end of that time the papers were collected and read. The following specimens, transcribed verbatim from the originals, with the remarks made as nearly as could be remembered immediately after the exercise, will give an idea of the ordinary operation of this plan. "I am very much prejudiced against spiders and every insect in the known world with scarcely an exception. There is a horrid sensation created by their ugly forms that makes me wish them all to Jericho. The butterfly's wings are pretty, but he is dreadful ugly. The is no affectation in this, for my pride will not permit me to show this prejudice to any great degree when I can help it. I do not fear the little wretches, but I do hate them. ANTI-SPIDER-SPARER." "This is not expressed very well; the phrases '_to Jericho?_' and '_dreadful ugly_' are vulgar, and not in good taste. Such a dislike, too, is more commonly called an antipathy than a prejudice, though perhaps it comes under the general head of prejudices." "How may we overcome prejudice? I think that when we are prejudiced against a person, it is the hardest thing in the world to overcome it." A prejudice is usually founded on some unpleasant association connected with the subject of it. The best way to overcome the prejudice, therefore, is to connect some pleasant association with it. For example (to take the case of the antipathy to the spider, alluded to in the last article), the reason why that young lady dislikes spiders is undoubtedly because she has some unpleasant idea associated with the thought of that animal, perhaps, for example, the idea of their crawling upon her, which is certainly not a very pleasant one for any body. Now the way to correct such a prejudice is to try to connect some pleasant thoughts with the sight of the animal. I once found a spider in an empty apartment hanging in its web on the wall, with a large ball of eggs which it had suspended by its side. My companion and myself cautiously brought up a tumbler under the web, and pressed it suddenly against the wall, so as to inclose both spider and eggs within it. We then contrived to run in a pair of shears, so as to cut off the web, and let both the animal and its treasure fall down into the tumbler. We put a book over the top, and walked off with our prize to a table to see what the spider would do. At first it tried to climb up the side of the tumbler, but its feet slipped on account of the smoothness of the glass. We then inclined the glass so as to favor its climbing, and to enable it to reach the book at the top. As soon as it touched the book, it was safe. It could cling to the book easily, and we placed the tumbler again upright to watch its motions. It attached a thread to the book, and let itself down by it to the bottom of the tumbler, and walked round and round the ball of eggs, apparently in great trouble. Presently it ascended by its thread, and then came down again. It attached a new thread to the ball, and then went up, drawing the ball with it. It hung the ball at a proper distance from the book, and bound it firmly in its place by threads running from it in every direction to the parts of the book which were near, and then the animal took its place quietly by its side. Now I do not say that if any body had a strong antipathy to a spider, seeing one perform such a work as this would entirely remove it, but it would certainly soften it. It would _tend_ to remove it. It would connect an interesting and pleasant association with the object. So if she should watch a spider in the fields making his web. You have all seen those beautiful regular webs in the morning dew ("Yes, sir;" "Yes, sir"), composed of concentric circles, and radii diverging in every direction. ("Yes, sir.") Well, watch a spider when making one of these, or observe his artful ingenuity and vigilance when he is lying in wait for a fly. By thus connecting pleasant ideas with the sight of the animal, you will destroy the unpleasant association which constitutes the prejudice. In the same manner, if I wished to create an antipathy to a spider in a child, it would be very easily done. I would tie her hands behind her, and put three or four upon her to crawl over her face. [Illustration] "Thus you must destroy prejudices in all cases by connecting pleasant thoughts and associations with the objects of them." "I am very often prejudiced against new scholars without knowing why." "We sometimes hear a person talk in this way: 'I do not like such or such a person at all.' "'Why?' "'Oh, I don't know; I do not like her at all. I can't bear her.' "'But why not? What is your objection to her?' "'Oh, I don't know; I have not any particular reason, but I never did like her.' "Now, whenever you hear any person talk so, you may be sure that her opinion on any subject is worth nothing at all. She forms opinions in one case without grounds, and it depends merely upon accident whether she does or not in other cases." "Why is it that so many of our countrymen _are_, or seem to be, prejudiced against the unfortunate children of Africa? Almost every _large white_ boy who meets a _small black_ boy insults him in some way or other." "It is so hard to _overcome_ prejudices, that we ought to be careful how we _form_ them." "When I see a new scholar enter this school, and she does not happen to suit me exactly in her ways and manners, I very often get prejudiced against her; though sometimes I find her a valuable friend after I get acquainted with her." "There is an inquiry I should like very much to make, though I suppose it would not be quite right to make it. I should like to ask all those who have some particular friend in school, and who can recollect the impression which the individual made upon them when they first saw her, to rise, and then I should like to inquire in how many cases the first impression was favorable, and in how many unfavorable." "Yes, sir;" "Yes, sir." "Do you mean you would like to have the inquiry made?" "Yes, sir." "All, then, who have intimate friends, and can recollect the impression which they first made upon them, may rise." [About thirty rose; more than two thirds of whom voted that the first impression made by the persons who had since become their particular friends was unfavorable.] "This shows how much dependence you can justly place on first impressions." "It was the next Monday morning after I had attained the wise age of four years that I was called up into my mother's room, and told that I was the next day going to school. "I called forth all my reasoning powers, and with all the ability of a child of four years, I reasoned with my mother, but to no purpose. I told her that I _hated_ the school-mistress then, though I had never seen her. The very first day I tottered under the weight of the mighty fool's-cap. I only attended her school two quarters; with prejudice I went, and with prejudice I came away. "The old school-house is now torn down, and a large brick house takes the place of it. But I never pass by without remembering my teacher. I am prejudiced to [against] the very spot." "Is it not right to allow prejudice to have influence over our minds as far as this? If any thing comes to our knowledge with which wrong _seems_ to be connected, and one in whom we have always felt confidence is engaged in it, is it not right to allow our prejudice in favor of this individual to have so much influence over us as to cause us to believe that all is really right, though every circumstance which has come to our knowledge is against such a conclusion? I felt this influence, not many weeks since, in a very great degree." "The disposition to judge favorably of a fraud in such a case would not be prejudice; or, at least, if it were so, it would not be a sufficient ground to justify us in withholding blame. Well-grounded confidence in such a person, if there was reason for it, ought to have such an effect, but not prejudice." The above may be considered as a fair specimen of the ordinary operation of such an exercise. It is taken as an illustration, not by selection, from the large number of similar exercises which I have witnessed, but simply because it was an exercise occurring at the time when a description was to be written. Besides the articles quoted above, there were thirty or forty others which were read and commented on. The above will, however, be sufficient to give the reader a clear idea of the exercise, and to show what is the nature of the moral effect it is calculated to produce. The subjects which may be advantageously brought forward in such a way are, of course, very numerous. They are such as the following: 1. DUTIES TO PARENTS.--Anecdotes of good or bad conduct at home. Questions. Cases where it is most difficult to obey. Dialogues between parents and children. Excuses which are often made for disobedience. 2. SELFISHNESS.--Cases of selfishness any of the pupils have observed. Dialogues they have heard exhibiting it. Questions about its nature. Indications of selfishness. 3. FAULTS OF THE SCHOOL.--Any bad practices the scholars may have observed in regard to general deportment, recitations, habits of study, or the scholars' treatment of one another. Each scholar may write what is his own greatest trouble in school, and whether he thinks any thing can be done to remove it. Any thing they think can be improved in the management of the school by the teacher. Unfavorable things they have heard said about it out of school, though without names. 4. EXCELLENCES OF THE SCHOOL.--Good practices which ought to be persevered in. Any little incidents the scholars may have noticed illustrating good character. Cases which have occurred in which scholars have done right in temptation, or when others around were doing wrong. Favorable reports in regard to the school in the community around. 5. THE SABBATH.--Any thing the scholars may have known to be done on the Sabbath which they doubt whether right or wrong. Questions in regard to the subject. Various opinions they have heard expressed. Difficulties they have in regard to proper ways of spending the Sabbath. (8.) We have one other method to describe by which a favorable moral influence may be exerted in school. The method can, however, go into full effect only where there are several pupils who have made considerable advances in mental cultivation. It is to provide a way by which teachers and pupils may write anonymously for the school. This may be done by having a place of deposit for such articles as may be written, where any person may leave what he wishes to have read, nominating by a memorandum upon the article itself the reader. If a proper feeling on the subject of good discipline and the formation of good character prevails in school, many articles, which will have a great deal of effect upon the pupils, will find their way through such an avenue once opened. The teacher can himself often bring forward in this way his suggestions with more effect than he otherwise could do. Such a plan is, in fact, like the plan of a newspaper for an ordinary community, where sentiments and opinions stand on their own basis, and influence the community just in proportion to their intrinsic merits, unassisted by the authority of the writer's name, and unimpeded by any prejudice which may exist against him. The following articles, which were really offered for such a purpose in the Mount Vernon school, will serve as specimens to illustrate the actual operation of the plan. One or two of them were written by teachers. I do not know the authors of the others. I do not offer them as remarkable compositions: every teacher will see that they are not so. The design of inserting them is merely to show that the ordinary literary ability to be found in every school may be turned to useful account by simply opening a channel for it, and to furnish such teachers as may be inclined to try the experiment the means of making the plan clearly understood by their pupils. MARKS OF A BAD SCHOLAR. "At the time when she should be ready to take her seat at school, she commences preparation for leaving home. To the extreme annoyance of those about her, all is now hurry, and bustle, and ill-humor. Thorough search is to be made for every book or paper for which she has occasion; some are found in one place, some in another, and others are forgotten altogether. Being finally equipped, she casts her eye at the clock, hopes to be in tolerable good season (notwithstanding that the hour for opening the school has already arrived), and sets out in the most violent hurry. "After so much haste, she is unfitted for attending properly to the duties of the school until a considerable time after her arrival. If present at the devotional exercises, she finds it difficult to command her attention even when desirous of so doing, and her deportment at this hour is, accordingly, marked with an unbecoming listlessness and abstraction. "When called to recitations, she recollects that some task was assigned, which, till that moment, she had forgotten; of others she had mistaken the extent, most commonly thinking them to be shorter than her companions suppose. In her answers to questions with which she should be familiar, she always manifests more or less of hesitation, and what she ventures to express is very commonly in the form of a question. In these, as in all exercises, there is an inattention to general instructions. Unless what is said be addressed particularly to herself, her eyes are directed toward another part of the room; it may be, her thoughts are employed about something not at all connected with the school. If reproved by her teacher for negligence in any respects, she is generally provided with an abundance of excuses, and however mild the reproof, she receives it as a piece of extreme severity. "Throughout her whole deportment there is an air of indolence and a want of interest in those exercises which should engage her attention. In her seat, she most commonly sits in some lazy posture--either with her elbows upon her desk, her head leaning upon her hands, or with her seat tipped forward or backward. When she has occasion to leave her seat, it is in a sauntering, lingering gait--perhaps some trick is contrived on the way for exciting the mirth of her companions. "About every thing in which it is possible to be so, she is untidy. Her books are carelessly used, and placed in her desk without order. If she has a piece of waste paper to dispose of, she finds it much more convenient to tear it into small pieces and scatter it about her desk, than to put it in a proper place. Her hands and clothes are usually covered with ink. Her written exercises are blotted and full of mistakes." THE CONSEQUENCES OF BEING BEHINDHAND. "The following incident, which I witnessed on a late journey, illustrates an important principle, and I will relate it. "When our steam-boat started from the wharf, all our passengers had not come. After we had proceeded a few yards, there appeared among the crowd on the wharf a man with his trunk under his arm, out of breath, and with a most disappointed and disconsolate air. The captain determined to stop for him; but stopping an immense steam-boat, moving swiftly through the water, is not to be done in a moment; so we took a grand sweep, wheeling majestically around an English ship which was at anchor in the harbor. As we came toward the wharf again, we saw the man in a small boat coming off from it. As the steam-boat swept round, they barely succeeded in catching a rope from the stern, and then immediately the steam-engine began its work again, and we pressed forward, the little boat following us so swiftly that the water around her was all in a foam. "They pulled upon the rope attached to the little boat until they drew it alongside. They then let down a rope, with a hook in the end of it, from an iron crane which projected over the side of the steam-boat, and hooked it into a staple in the front of the small boat. '_Hoist away_!' said the captain. The sailors hoisted, and the front part of the little boat began to rise, the stern plowing and foaming through the water, and the man still in it, with his trunk under his arm. They 'hoisted away' until I began to think that the poor man would actually tumble out behind. He clung to the seat, and looked as though he was saying to himself, 'I will take care how I am tardy the next time.' However, after a while, they hoisted up the stern of the boat, and he got safely on board. "_Moral_--Though coming to school a few minutes earlier or later may not in itself be a matter of much consequence, yet the habit of being five minutes too late, if once formed, will, in actual life, be a source of great inconvenience, and sometimes of lasting injury." NEW SCHOLARS. There is at ------ a young ladies' school, taught by Mr. ------. * * * * * "But, with all these excellences, there is one fault, which I considered a great one, and which does not comport with the general character of the school for kindness and good feeling. It is the little effort made by the scholars to become acquainted with the new ones who enter. Whoever goes there must push herself forward, or she will never feel at home. The young ladies seem to forget that the new-comer must feel rather unpleasantly in the midst of a hundred persons to whom she is wholly a stranger, and with no one to speak to. Two or three will stand together, and instead of deciding upon some plan by which the individual may be made to feel at ease, something like the following conversation takes place: "_Miss X._ How do you like the looks of Miss A., who entered school to-day? "_Miss Y._ I don't think she is very pretty, but she looks as if she might be a good scholar. "_Miss X._ She does not strike me very pleasantly. Did you ever see such a face? And her complexion is so dark, I should think she had always lived in the open air; and what a queer voice she has! "_Miss Y._ I wonder if she has a taste for Arithmetic? "_Miss X._ She does not look as if she had much taste for any thing. See how strangely she arranges her hair! "_Miss S._ Whether she has much taste or not, some one of us ought to go and get acquainted with her. See how unpleasantly she feels! "_Miss X._ I don't want to get acquainted with her until I know whether I shall like her or not. "Thus nothing is done to relieve her. When she does become acquainted, all her first strange appearance is forgotten; but this is sometimes not the case for several weeks. It depends entirely on the character of the individual herself. If she is forward, and willing to make the necessary effort, she can find many friends; but if she is diffident, she has much to suffer. This arises principally from thoughtlessness. The young ladies do not seem to realize that there is any thing for them to do. They feel enough at home themselves, and the remembrance of the time when they entered school does not seem to arise in their minds." 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. [Illustration] 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. RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE. [Illustration] In consequence of the unexampled religious freedom possessed in this country, for which it is happily distinguished above all other countries on the face of the earth, there necessarily results a vast variety of religious sentiment and action. We can not enjoy the blessings without the inconveniences of freedom. Where every man is allowed to believe as he pleases, some will, undoubtedly, believe wrong, and others will be divided, by embracing views of a subject which are different, though perhaps equally consistent with truth. Hence we have among us every shade and every variety of religious opinion, and, in many cases, contention and strife, resulting from hopeless efforts to produce uniformity. A stranger who should come among us would suppose, from the tone of our religious journals, and from the general aspect of society on the subject of religion, that the whole community was divided into a thousand contending sects, who hold nothing in common, and whose sole objects are the annoyance and destruction of each other. But if we leave out of view some hundreds, or, if you please, some thousands of theological controversialists who manage the public discussions, and say and do all that really comes before the public on this subject, it will be found that there is vastly more religious truth admitted by common consent among the people of New England than is generally supposed. This common ground I shall endeavor briefly to describe; for it is very plain that the teacher must, in ordinary cases, confine himself to it. By common consent, however, I do not mean the consent of every body; I mean that of the great majority of serious, thinking men. But let us examine first, for a moment, what right any member of the community has to express and to disseminate his opinions with a view to the inquiry whether the teacher is really bound to confine himself to what he can do on this subject with the common consent of his employers. The various monarchical nations of Europe have been for many years, as is well known, strongly agitated with questions of politics. It is with difficulty that public tranquillity is preserved. Every man takes sides. Now, in this state of things, a wealthy gentleman residing in one of these countries is opposed to the revolutionary projects so constantly growing up there, and being, both from principle and feeling, strongly attached to monarchical government, wishes to bring up his children with the same feelings which he himself cherishes. He has a right to do so. No matter if his opinions are wrong. He ought, it will be generally supposed in this country, to be republican. I suppose him to adopt opinions which will generally, by my readers, be considered wrong, that I may bring more distinctly to view the right he has to educate his children as _he thinks_ it proper that they should be educated. He may be wrong to _form_ such opinions; but the opinions once formed, he has a right, with which no human power can justly interfere, to educate his children in conformity with those opinions. It is alike the law of God and nature that the father should control, as he alone is responsible, the education of his child. Now, under these circumstances, he employs an American mechanic, who is residing in Paris, to come to his house and teach his children the use of the lathe. After some time he comes into their little work-shop, and is astonished to find the lathe standing still, and the boys gathered round the Republican turner, who is relating to them stories of the tyranny of kings, the happiness of republicans, and the glory of war. The parent remonstrates. The mechanic defends himself. "I am a Republican," he says, "upon principle, and wherever I go I must exert all the influence in my power to promote free principles, and to expose the usurpations and the tyranny of kings." To this the monarchist might very properly reply, "In your efforts to promote your principles, you are limited, or you ought to be limited, to modes that are proper and honorable. I employ you for a distinct and specific purpose, which has nothing to do with questions of government, and you ought not to allow your love of republican principles to lead you to take advantage of the position in which I place you, and interfere with my plans for the political education of my children." Now for the parallel case. A member of a Congregational society is employed to teach a school in a district occupied exclusively by Friends--a case not uncommon. He is employed there, not as a religious teacher, but for another specific and well-defined object. It is for the purpose of teaching the children of that district _reading, writing,_ and _calculation_, and for such other purposes analogous to this as the law providing for the establishment of district schools contemplated. Now, when he is placed in such a situation, with such a trust confided to him, and such duties to discharge, it is not right for him to make use of the influence which this official station gives him over the minds of the children committed to his care for the accomplishment of _any other purposes whatever_ which the parents would disapprove. It would not be considered right by men of the world to attempt to accomplish any other purposes in such a case; and are the pure and holy principles of piety to be extended by methods more exceptionable than those by which political and party contests are managed? There is a very great and obvious distinction between the general influence which the teacher exerts as a member of the community and that which he can employ in his school-room as teacher. He has unquestionably a right to exert _upon the community, by such means as he shares in common with every other citizen_, as much influence as he can command for the dissemination of his own political, or religious, or scientific opinions. But the strong ascendency which, in consequence of his official station, he has obtained over the minds of his pupils, is sacred. He has no right to use it for any purpose _foreign to the specific objects_ for which he is employed, unless _by the consent, expressed or implied_, of those by whom he is intrusted with his charge. The parents who send their children to him to be taught to read, to write, and to calculate, may have erroneous views of their duty as parents in other respects. He _may know_ that their views are erroneous. They may be taking a, course which the teacher _knows_ is wrong. But he has not, on this account, a right to step in between the parent and child, to guide the latter according to his own opinions, and to violate the wishes and thwart the plans of the former. God has constituted the relation between the parent and the child, and according to any view which a rational man can take of this relation, the parent is alone responsible for the guidance he gives to that mind, so entirely in his power. He is responsible to God; and where our opinions in regard to the manner in which any of the duties arising from the relation are to be performed, differ from his, we have no right to interfere, without his consent, to rectify what we thus imagine to be wrong. I know of but one exception which any man whatever would be inclined to make to this principle, and that is where the parent would, if left to himself, take such a course as would ultimately make his children _unsafe members of society._ The _community_ have a right to interfere in such a case, as they in fact do by requiring every man to provide for the instruction of his children, and in some other ways which need not now be specified. Beyond this, however, no interference contrary to the parent's consent is justifiable. Where parents will do wrong, notwithstanding any persuasions which we can address to them, we must not violate the principles of an arrangement which God has himself made, but must submit patiently to the awful consequences which will in some cases occur, reflecting that the responsibility for these consequences is on the head of those who neglect their duty, and that the being who makes them liable will settle the account. Whatever, then, the teacher attempts to do beyond the _specific_ and _defined_ duties which are included among the objects for which he is employed, must be done _by permission_--by the voluntary consent, whether tacit or openly expressed, of those by whom he is employed. This, of course, confines him to what is generally common ground among his particular employers. In a republican country, where all his patrons are republican, he may, without impropriety, explain and commend to his pupils, as occasion may occur, the principles of free governments, and the blessings which may be expected to flow from them. But it would not be justifiable for him to do this under a monarchy, or in a community divided in regard to this subject, because this question does not come within the objects for the promotion of which his patrons have associated and employed him, and consequently he has no right, while continuing their teacher, to go into it without their consent. In the same manner, an Episcopal teacher, in a private school formed and supported by Episcopalians, may use and commend forms of prayer, and explain the various usages of that church, exhibiting their excellence, and their adaptation to the purposes for which they are intended. He may properly do this, because, in the case supposed, the patrons of the school are _united_ on this subject, and their _tacit consent_ may be supposed to be given. But place the same teacher over a school of Friends, whose parents dislike forms and ceremonies of every kind in religion, and his duty would be changed altogether. So, if a Roman Catholic is intrusted with the instruction of a common district school in a community composed of many Protestant denominations, it would be plainly his duty to avoid all influence, direct or indirect, over the minds of his pupils, except in those religious sentiments and opinions which are common to himself and all his employers. I repeat the principle. _He is employed for a specific purpose, and he has no right to wander from that purpose, except as far as he can go with the common consent of his employers._ Now the common ground on religious subjects in this country is very broad. There are, indeed, many principles which are, in my view, essential parts of Christianity, which are subjects of active discussion among us. But, setting these aside, there are other principles equally essential, in regard to which the whole community are agreed; or, at least, if there is a dissenting minority, it is so small that it is hardly to be considered. Let us look at some of these principles. 1. Our community is agreed that _there is a God._ There is probably not a school in our country where the parents of the scholars would not wish to have the teacher, in his conversation with his pupils, take this for granted, and allude reverently to that great Being, with the design of leading them to realize his existence and to feel his authority. 2. Our community are agreed that _we are responsible to God for all our conduct._ Though some persons absurdly pretend to believe that the Being who formed this world, if, indeed, they think there is any such Being, has left it and its inhabitants to themselves, not inspecting their conduct, and never intending to call them to account, they are too few among us to need consideration. A difference of opinion on this subject might embarrass the teacher in France, and in other countries in Europe, but not here. However negligent men may be in _obeying_ God's commands, they do almost universally in our country admit in theory the authority from which they come, and believing this, the parent, even if he is aware that he himself does not obey these commands, chooses to have his children taught to respect them. The teacher will thus be acting with the consent of his employers, in almost any part of our country, in endeavoring to influence his pupils to perform moral duties, not merely from worldly motives, nor from mere abstract principles of right and wrong, but _from regard to the authority of God._ 3. The community are agreed, too, in the belief of _the immortality of the soul._ They believe, almost without exception, that there is a future state of being to which this is introductory and preparatory, and almost every father and mother in our country wish to have their children keep this in mind, and to be influenced by it in all their conduct. 4. The community are agreed that _we have a revelation from Heaven._ I believe there are very few instances where the parents would not be glad to have the Bible read from time to time, its geographical and historical meanings illustrated, and its moral lessons brought to bear upon the hearts and lives of their children. Of course, if the teacher is so unwise as to make such a privilege, if it were allowed him, the occasion of exerting an influence upon one side or the other of some question which divides the community around him, he must expect to excite jealousy and distrust, and to be excluded from a privilege which he might otherwise have been permitted freely to enjoy. There may, alas! be some cases where the use of the Scriptures is altogether forbidden in school; but probably in almost every such case it would be found that it is from fear of its perversion to sect or party purposes, and not from any unwillingness to have the Bible used in the way I have described. 5. The community are agreed, in theory, that _personal attachment to the Supreme Being is the duty of every human soul;_ and every parent, with exceptions so few that they are not worth naming, wishes that his children should cherish that affection, and yield their hearts to its influence. He is willing, therefore, that the teacher, of course without interfering with the regular duties for the performance of which he holds his office, should, from time to time, so speak of this duty, of God's goodness to men, of his daily protection and his promised favors, as to awaken, if possible, this attachment in the hearts of his children. Of course, it is very easy for the teacher, if he is so disposed, to abuse this privilege also. He can, under pretense of awakening and cherishing the spirit of piety in the hearts of his pupils, present the subject in such aspects and relations as to arouse the sectarian or denominational feelings of some of his employers; but I believe, if this was honestly and fully avoided, there are few, if any parents in our country who would not be gratified to have the great principle of love to God manifest itself in the instructions of the school-room, and showing itself, by its genuine indications, in the hearts and conduct of their children. 6. The community are agreed not only in believing that piety consists primarily in love to God, but that _the life of piety is to be commenced by penitence for past sins, and forgiveness, in some way or other, through a Savior._ I am aware that one class of theological writers, in the heat of controversy, charge the other with believing that Jesus Christ was nothing more nor less than a teacher of religion, and there are unquestionably individuals who take this view. But these individuals are few. There are very few in our community who do not in some sense look upon Jesus Christ as our _Savior_--our Redeemer; who do not feel themselves _in some way_ indebted to him for the offer of pardon. There may be here and there a theological student, or a contributor to the columns of a polemical magazine, who ranks Jesus Christ with Moses and with Paul. But the great mass of the fathers and mothers, of every name and denomination through all the ranks of society, look up to the Savior of sinners with something at least of the feeling that he is the object of extraordinary affection and reverence. I am aware, however, that I am approaching the limit which, in many parts of our country, ought to bound the religious influence of the teacher in a public school, and on this subject, as on every other, he ought to do nothing directly or indirectly which would be displeasing to those who have intrusted children to his care. 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] [Footnote 3: In speaking of this common ground, and in commenting upon it, I wish not to be understood that I consider these truths as comprising all that is essential in Christianity. Very far from it. A full expression of the Christian faith would go far in advance of all here presented. We must not confound, however, what is essential to prepare the way for the forgiveness of sin with what is essential that a child should understand in order to secure his penitence and forgiveness. The former is a great deal, the latter very little.] 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: "I was talking to you yesterday about the motives of action. How many had I made?" Some say "Four," some "Five," some "Six." "Can you name any of them?" The boys attempt to recollect them, and they give the names in the order in which they accidentally occur to the various individuals. Of course the words Fear, Emulation, Honor, Friendship, and others, come in confused and irregular sounds from every part of the school-room. "You do not recollect the order," says the teacher, "and it is of no consequence, for the order I named was only accidental. Now to go on with my account: suppose all these boys to sit down and go to writing, each one acting under the impulse of the motive which had been presented to him individually. But, in order to make the supposition answer my purpose, I must add two other cases. I will imagine that one of these boys is called away a few minutes, and leaves his paper on his desk, and that another boy, of an ill-natured and morose disposition, happening to pass by and see his paper, thinks he will sit down and write upon it a few lines, just to tease and vex the one who was called away. We will also suppose that I call another boy to me, who I have reason to believe is a sincere Christian, and say to him, 'Here is a new duty for you to perform this afternoon. This piece of poetry is to be copied; now do it carefully and faithfully. You know that this morning you committed yourself to God's care during the day; now remember that he has been watching you all the time thus far, and that he will be noticing you all the time you are doing this; he will be pleased if you do your duty faithfully.' "The boys thus all go to writing. Now suppose a stranger should come in, and, seeing them all busy, should say to me, "'What are all these boys doing?' "'They are writing.' "'What are they writing?' "'They are writing a piece of poetry.' "'They seem to be very busy; they are very industrious, good boys.' "'Oh no! it is not by any means certain that they are _good_ boys.' "'I mean that they are good boys _now_; that they are doing right at _this time_." '_That_ is not certain; some of them are doing right and some are doing very wrong, though they are all writing the same piece of poetry.' The stranger would perhaps look surprised while I said this, and would ask an explanation, and I might properly reply as follows: 'Whether the boys are at this moment doing right or wrong depends not so much upon what they are doing as upon the feelings of the heart with which they are doing it. I acknowledge that they are all doing the same thing outwardly; they are all writing the same extract, and they are all doing it attentively and carefully, but they are thinking of very different things.' 'What are they thinking of?' 'Do you see that boy?' I might say, pointing to one of them. 'His name is M. He is writing for money. He is saying to himself all the time, "I hope I shall get the quarter of a dollar." He is calculating what he shall buy with it, and every good or bad letter that he makes, he is considering the chance whether he shall succeed or fail in obtaining it.' 'What is the next boy to him thinking of?' 'His name is B. He is copying to oblige a little fellow whom he scarcely knows, and is trying to make his copy handsome, so as to give him pleasure. He is thinking how gratified his schoolmate will be when he receives it, and is forming plans to get acquainted with him. "'Do you see that boy in the back seat? He has maliciously taken another boy's place just to spoil his work. He knows, too, that he is breaking the rules of the school in being out of his place, but he stays notwithstanding, and is delighting himself with thinking how disappointed and sad his schoolmate will be when he comes in and finds his work spoiled by having another handwriting in it, when he was depending on doing it all himself.' "'I see,' the stranger might say by this time, 'that there is a great difference among these boys; have you told me about them all?' "'No,' I might reply, 'there are several others. I will only mention one more. He sits in the middle of the second desk. He is writing carefully, simply because he wishes to do his duty and please God. He thinks that God is present, and loves him, and takes care of him, and he is obedient and grateful in return. I do not mean that he is all the time thinking of God, but love to him is his motive of effort.' "Do you see now, boys, what I mean to teach you by this long supposition?" "Yes, sir." "I presume you do. Perhaps it would be difficult for you to express it in words; I can express it in general terms thus: "_Our characters depend, not on what we do, but on the spirit and motive with which we do it._ What I have been saying throws light upon one important verse in the Bible, which I should like to have read. James, have you a Bible in your desk?" "Yes, sir." "Will you turn to 1 Samuel, xvi., 7, and then rise and read it? Read it loud, so that all the school can hear." James read as follows: "MAN LOOKETH ON THE OUTWARD APPEARANCE, BUT GOD LOOKETH ON THE HEART." This is the way to reach the intellect and the heart of the young. Go _into detail._ Explain truth and duty, not in an abstract form, but exhibit it _in actual and living examples._ (3.) Be very cautious how you bring in the awful sanctions of religion to assist you directly in the discipline of your school. You will derive a most powerful indirect assistance from the influence of religion in the little community which you govern, but this will be through the prevalence of its spirit in the hearts of your pupils, and not from any assistance which you can usually derive from it in managing particular cases of transgression. Many teachers make great mistakes in this respect. A bad boy, who has done something openly and directly subversive of the good order of the school, or the rights of his companions, is called before the master, who thinks that the most powerful weapon to wield against him is the Bible. So, while the trembling culprit stands before him, he administers to him a reproof, which consists of an almost ludicrous mixture of scolding, entreaty, religious instruction, and threatening of punishment. But such an occasion as this is no time to touch a bad boy's heart. He is steeled at such a moment against any thing but mortification and the desire to get out of the hands of the master, and he has an impression that the teacher appeals to religious principles only to assist him to sustain his own authority. Of course, religious truth, at such a time, can make no good impression. There may be exceptions to this rule. There doubtless are. I have found some; and every successful teacher who reads this will probably call to mind some which have occurred in the course of his own experience. I am only speaking of what ought to be the general rule, which is to reserve religious truths for moments of a different character altogether. Bring the principles of the Bible forward when the mind is calm, when the emotions are quieted, and all within is at rest; and in exhibiting them, be actuated, not by a desire to make your duties of government easier, but to promote the real and permanent happiness of your charge. (4.) Do not be eager to draw from your pupils an expression of their personal interest in religious truth. Lay before them, and enforce, by all the means in your power, the principles of Christian duty, but do not converse with them for the purpose of gratifying your curiosity in regard to their piety, or your spiritual pride by counting up the numbers of those who have been led to piety by your influence. Beginning to act from Christian principle is the beginning of a new life, and it may be an interesting subject of inquiry to you to ascertain how many of your pupils have experienced the change; but, in many cases, it would merely gratify curiosity to know. There is no question, too, that, in very many instances, the faint glimmering of religious interest, which would have kindled into a bright flame, is extinguished at once, and perhaps forever, by the rough inquiries of a religious friend. Besides, if you make inquiries, and form a definite opinion of your pupils, they will know that this is your practice, and many a one will repose in the belief that you consider him or her a Christian, and you will thus increase the number, already unfortunately too large, of those who maintain the form and pretenses of piety without its power; whose hearts are filled with self-sufficiency and spiritual pride, and perhaps zeal for the truths and external duties of religion, while the real spirit of piety has no place there. They trust to some imaginary change, long since passed by, and which has proved to be spurious by its failing of its fruits. The best way--in fact, the only way--to guard against this danger, especially with the young, is to show, by your manner of speaking and acting on this subject at all times, that you regard a truly religious life as the only evidence of piety, and that, consequently, however much interest your pupils may apparently take in religious instruction, they can not know, and you can not know, whether Christian principle reigns within them in any other way than by following them through life, and observing how, and with what spirit, the various duties which devolve upon them are performed. There are very many fallacious indications of piety, so fallacious and so plausible that there are very few, even among intelligent Christians, who are not often greatly deceived. "By their fruits ye shall know them," said the Savior; a direction sufficiently plain, one would think, and pointing to a test sufficiently easy to be applied. But it is slow and tedious work to wait for fruits, and we accordingly seek a criterion which will help us quicker to a result. You see your pupil serious and thoughtful. It is well; but it is not proof of piety. You see him deeply interested when you speak of his obligations to his Maker, and the duties he owes to Him. This is well, but it is no proof of piety. You know he reads his Bible daily, and offers his morning and evening prayers. When you speak to him of God's goodness, and of his past ingratitude, his bosom heaves with emotion, and the tear stands in his eye. It is all well. You may hope that he is going to devote his life to the service of God; but you can not know, you can not even believe with any great confidence. These appearances are not piety. They are not conclusive evidences of it. They are only, in the young, faint grounds of hope that the genuine fruits of piety will appear. I am aware that there are many persons so habituated to judging with confidence of the piety of others from some such indications as I have described, that they will think I carry my cautions to the extreme. Perhaps I do; but the Savior said, "By their fruits ye shall know them," and it is safest to follow his direction. By the word "fruits," however, our Savior unquestionably does not mean the mere moral virtues of this life. The fruits to be looked at are the fruits of _piety_, that is, indications of permanent attachment to the Creator, and a desire to obey his commands. We must look for these. There is no objection to your giving particular individuals special instruction adapted to their wants and circumstances. You may do this by writing or in other ways, but do not lead them to make up their minds fully that they are Christians in such a sense as to induce them to feel that the work is done. Let them understand that becoming a Christian is _beginning_ a work, not _finishing_ it. Be cautious how you form an opinion even yourself on the question of the genuineness of their piety. Be content not to know. You will be more faithful and watchful if you consider it uncertain, and they will be more faithful and watchful too. (5.) Bring very fully and frequently before your pupils the practical duties of religion in all their details, especially their duties at home, to their parents, and to their brothers and sisters. Do not, however, allow them to mistake morality for religion. Show them clearly what piety is in its essence, and this you can do most successfully by exhibiting its effects. (6.) Finally, let me insert as the keystone of all that I have been saying in this chapter, be sincere, and ardent, and consistent in your own piety. The whole structure which I have been attempting to build will tumble into ruins without this. Be constantly watchful and careful, not only to maintain intimate communion with God, and to renew it daily in your seasons of retirement, but to guard your conduct. Let piety control and regulate it. Show your pupils that it makes you amiable, patient, forbearing, benevolent in little things as well as in great things, and your example will co-operate with your instructions, and allure your pupils to walk in the paths which you tread. But no clearness and faithfulness in religious teaching will atone for the injury which a bad example will effect. Conduct speaks louder than words, and no persons are more shrewd than the young to discover the hollowness of empty professions, and the heartlessness of mere pretended interest in their good. I am aware that this book may fall into the hands of some who may take little interest in the subject of this chapter. To such I may perhaps owe an apology for having thus fully discussed a topic in which only a part of my readers can be supposed to be interested. My apology is this: It is obvious and unquestionable that we all owe allegiance to the Supreme. It is so obvious and unquestionable as to be entirely beyond the necessity of proof, for it is plain that nothing but such a bond of union can keep the peace among the millions of distinct intelligences with which the creation is filled. It is therefore the plain duty of every man to establish that connection himself and his Maker which the Bible requires, and to do what he can to bring others to the peace and happiness of piety. These truths are so plain that they admit of no discussion and no denial, and it seems to me highly unsafe for any man to neglect or to postpone the performance of the duty which arises from them. A still greater hazard is incurred when such a man, having forty or fifty fellow-beings almost entirely under his influence, leads them, by his example, away from their Maker, and so far that he must, in many cases, hopelessly confirm the separation. With these views, I could not, when writing on the duties of a teacher of the young, refrain from bringing distinctly to view this which has so imperious a claim. CHAPTER VI. THE MOUNT VERNON SCHOOL. Perhaps there is no way by which teachers can, in a given time, do more to acquire a knowledge of their art, and an interest in it, than by visiting each others' schools. It is not always the case that any thing is observed by the visitor which he can directly and wholly introduce into his own school, but what he sees suggests to him modifications or changes, and it gives him, at any rate, renewed strength and resolution in his work to see how similar objects are accomplished, or similar difficulties removed by others. I have often thought that there ought, on this account, to be far greater freedom and frequency in the inter-change of visits than there is. Next, however, to a visit to a school, comes the reading of a vivid description of it. I do not mean a cold, theoretical exposition of the general principles of its management and instruction, for these are essentially the same in all good schools. I mean a minute account of the plans and arrangements by which these general principles are applied. Suppose twenty of the most successful teachers in New England would write such a description, each of his own school, how valuable would be the volume which should contain them! With these views, I have concluded to devote one chapter to the description of a school which was for several years under my care.[4] The account was originally prepared and _printed_, but not published, for the purpose of distribution among the scholars, simply because this seemed to be the easiest and surest method of making them, on their admission to the school, acquainted with its arrangements and plans. It is addressed, therefore, throughout to a pupil, and I preserve its original form, as, by its being addressed to pupils, and intended to influence them, it is an example of the mode of address and the kind of influence recommended in this work. It was chiefly designed for new scholars; a copy of it was presented to each on the day of her admission to the school, and it was made her first duty to read it attentively. [Footnote 4: The author was still connected with this school at the time when this work was written.] The system which it describes is one which gradually grew up in the institution under the writer's care. The school was commenced with a small number of pupils, and without any system or plan whatever, and the one here described was formed insensibly and by slow degrees, through the influence of various and accidental circumstances. I have no idea that it is superior to the plans of government and instruction adopted in many other schools. It is true that there must necessarily be _some_ system in every large institution; but various instructors will fall upon different principles of organization, which will naturally be such as are adapted to the habits of thought and manner of instruction of their respective authors, and consequently each will be best for its own place. While, therefore, some system--some methodical arrangement is necessary in all schools, it is not necessary that it should be the same in all. It is not even desirable that it should be. I consider this plan as only one among a multitude of others, each of which will be successful, not by the power of its intrinsic qualities, but just in proportion to the ability and faithfulness with which it is carried into effect. There may be features of this plan which teachers who may read it may be inclined to adopt. In other cases, suggestions may occur to the mind of the reader, which may modify in some degree his present plans. Others may merely be interested in seeing how others effect what they, by other methods, are equally successful in effecting. It is in these and similar ways that I have often myself been highly benefited in visiting schools and, in reading descriptions of them, and it is for such purposes that I insert the account here. TO A NEW SCHOLAR ON HER ADMISSION TO THE MOUNT VERNON SCHOOL. As a large school is necessarily somewhat complicated in its plan, and as new scholars usually find that it requires some time and gives them no little trouble to understand the arrangements they find in operation here, I have concluded to write a brief description of these arrangements, by help of which you will, I hope, the sooner feel at home in your new place of duty. That I may be more distinct and specific, I shall class what I have to say under separate heads. I. YOUR PERSONAL DUTY. Your first anxiety as you come into the school-room, and take your seat among the busy multitude, if you are conscientiously desirous of doing your duty, will be, lest, ignorant as you are of the whole plan and of all the regulations of the institution, you should inadvertently do what will be considered wrong. I wish first, then, to put you at rest on this score. There is but one rule of this school. That you can easily keep. You will observe on one side of my desk a clock upon the wall, and not far from it a piece of apparatus that is probably new to you. It is a metallic plate, upon which are marked, in gilded letters, the words "_Study Hours."_ This is upright, but it is so attached by its lower edge to its support by means of a hinge that it can fall over from above, and thus be in a _horizontal_ position; or it will rest in an _inclined_ position--_half down,_ as it is called. It is drawn up and let down by a cord passing over a pulley. When it passes either way, its upper part touches a bell, which gives all in the room notice of its motion. Now when this "_Study Card"_ [5] as the scholars call it, is _up_, so that the words "STUDY HOURS" are presented to the view of the school, it is the signal for silence and study. THERE IS THEN TO BE NO COMMUNICATION AND NO LEAVING OF SEATS EXCEPT AT THE DIRECTION OF TEACHERS. When it is _half down,_ each scholar may leave her seat and whisper, but she must do nothing which will disturb others. When it is _down_, all the duties of school are suspended, and scholars are left entirely to their liberty. [Footnote 5: This apparatus has been previously described. See p. 47.] As this is the only rule of the school, it deserves a little more full explanation; for not only your progress in study, but your influence in promoting the welfare of the school, and, consequently, your peace and happiness while you are a member of it, will depend upon the strictness with which you observe it. Whenever, then, the study card goes up, and you hear the sound of its little bell, immediately and instantaneously stop, whatever you are saying. If you are away from your seat, go directly to it and there remain, and forget in your own silent and solitary studies, so far as you can, all that are around you. You will remember that all _communication_ is forbidden. Whispering, making signs, writing upon paper or a slate, bowing to any one, and, in fact, _every_ possible way by which one person may have any sort of mental intercourse with another, is wrong. A large number of the scholars take a pride and pleasure in carrying this rule into as perfect an observance as possible. They say that as this is the only rule with which I trouble them, they ought certainly to observe this faithfully. I myself, however, put it upon other ground. I am satisfied that it is better and pleasanter for you to observe it most rigidly, if it is attempted to be enforced at all. You will ask, "Can not we obtain permission of you or of the teachers to leave our seats or to whisper if it is necessary?" The answer is "No." You must never ask permission of me or of the teachers. You can leave seats or speak at the _direction_ of the teachers, that is, when they of their own accord ask you to do it, but you are never to ask their permission. If you should, and if any teachers should give you permission, it would be of no avail. I have never given them authority to grant any permissions of the kind. You will then say, "Are we never, on any occasion whatever, to leave our seats in study hours?" Yes, you are. There are two ways: 1. _At the direction of teachers._--Going to and from recitations is considered as at the _direction_ of teachers. So, if a person is requested by a teacher to transact any business, or is elected to a public office, or appointed upon a committee, leaving seats or speaking, so far as is really necessary for the accomplishing such a purpose, is considered as at the direction of teachers, and is consequently right. In the same manner, if a teacher should ask you individually, or give general notice to the members of a class, to come to her seat for private instruction, or to go to any part of the school-room for her, it would be right to do it. The distinction, you observe, is this: the teacher may, _of her own accord,_ direct any leaving of seats which she may think necessary to accomplish the objects of the school. She must not, however, _at the request of an individual,_ for the sake of her mere private convenience, give her permission to speak or to leave her seat. If, for example, a teacher should say to you in your class, "As soon as you have performed a certain work you may bring it to me," you would, in bringing it, be acting under her _direction_, and would consequently do right. If, however, you should want a pencil, and should ask her to give you leave to borrow it, even if she should give you leave you would do wrong to go, for you would not be acting at her _direction,_ but simply by her _consent_, and she has no authority to grant consent. 2. The second case in which you may leave your seat is when some very uncommon occurrence takes place, which is sufficient reason for suspending all rules. If your neighbor is faint, you may speak to her, and, if necessary, lead her out. If your mother or some other friend should come into the school-room, you can go and sit with her upon the sofa, and talk about the school.[6] And so in many other similar cases. Be very careful not to abuse this privilege, and make slight causes the grounds of your exceptions. It ought to be a very clear case. If a young lady is unwell in a trifling degree, so as to need no assistance, you would evidently do wrong to talk to her. The rule, in fact, is very similar to that which all well-bred people observe at church. They never speak or leave their seats unless some really important cause, such as sickness, requires them to break over all rules and go out. You have, in the same manner, in really important cases, such as serious sickness in your own case or in that of your companions, or the coming in of a stranger, or any thing else equally extraordinary, power to lay aside any rule, and to act as the emergency may require. In using this discretion, however, be sure to be on the safe side. In such cases, never ask permission. You must act on your own responsibility. [Footnote 6: A sofa was placed against the wall, by the side of the teachers' for the accommodation of visitors.] _Reasons for this rule._--When the school was first established, there was no absolute prohibition of whispering. Each scholar was allowed to whisper in relation to her studies. They were often, very often, enjoined to be conscientious and faithful, but, as might have been anticipated, the experiment failed. It was almost universally the practice to whisper more or less about subjects entirely foreign to the business of the school. This all the scholars repeatedly acknowledged; and they almost unanimously admitted that the good of the school required the prohibition of all communication during certain hours. I gave them their choice, either always to ask permission when they wished to speak, or to have a certain time allowed for the purpose, during which free intercommunication might be allowed to all the school, with the understanding, however, that, out of this time, no permission should ever be asked or granted. They very wisely chose the latter plan, and the Study Card was constructed and put up, to mark the times of free communication and of silent study. The card was at first down every half hour for one or two minutes. The scholars afterward thinking that their intellectual habits would be improved and the welfare of the school promoted by their having a longer time for uninterrupted study, of their own accord, without any influence from me, proposed that the card should be down only once an hour. This plan was adopted by them by vote. I wish it to be understood that it was not _my_ plan, but _theirs_; and that I am at any time willing to have the Study Card down once in half an hour, whenever a majority of the scholars, voting by ballot, desire it. You will find that this system of having a distinct time for whispering, when all may whisper freely, all communication being entirely excluded at other times, will at first give you some trouble. It will be hard for you, if you are not accustomed to it, to learn conscientiously and faithfully to comply. Besides, at first you will often need some little information or desire to ask for an article which you might obtain in a moment, but which you can not innocently ask for till the card is down, and this might keep you waiting an hour. You will, however, after a few such instances, soon learn to make your preparations beforehand, and if you are a girl of enlarged views and elevated feelings, you will good-humoredly acquiesce in suffering a little inconvenience yourself for the sake of helping to preserve those _distinct_ and well _defined_ lines by which all boundaries must be marked in a large establishment, if order and system are to be preserved at all. Though at first you may experience a little inconvenience, you will soon take pleasure in the scientific strictness of the plan. It will gratify you to observe the profound stillness of the room where a hundred are studying. You will take pleasure in observing the sudden transition from the silence of study hours to the joyful sounds and the animating activity of recess when the Study Card goes down; and then when it rises again at the close of the recess, you will be gratified to observe how suddenly the sounds which have filled the air, and made the room so lively a scene, are hushed into silence by the single and almost inaudible touch of that little bell. You will take pleasure in this; for young and old always take pleasure in the strict and rigid operation of _system_ rather than in laxity and disorder. I am convinced, also, that the scholars do like the operation of this plan, for I do not have to make any efforts to sustain it. With the exception that occasionally, usually not oftener than once in several months, I allude to the subject, and that chiefly on account of a few careless and unfaithful individuals, I have little to say or to do to maintain the authority of the Study Card. Most of the scholars obey it of their own accord, implicitly and cordially. And I believe they consider this faithful monitor not only one of the most useful, but one of the most agreeable friends they have. We should not only regret its services, but miss its company if it should be taken away. This regulation then, namely, to abstain from all communication with one another, and from all leaving of seats, at certain times which are marked by the position of the Study Card, is the only one which can properly be called a _rule_ of the school. There are a great many arrangements and plans relating to the _instruction_ of the pupils, but no other specific _rules_ relating to _their conduct._ You are, of course, while in the school, under the same moral obligations which rest upon you elsewhere. You must be kind to one another, respectful to superiors, and quiet and orderly in your deportment. You must do nothing to encroach upon another's rights, or to interrupt and disturb your companions in their pursuits. You must not produce disorder, or be wasteful of the public property, or do any thing else which you might know is in itself wrong. But you are to avoid these things, not because there are any rules in this school against them, for there are none, but because they are in _themselves wrong_--in all places and under all circumstances, wrong. The universal and unchangeable principles of duty are the same here as elsewhere. I do not make rules pointing them out, but expect that you will, through your own conscience and moral principle, discover and obey them. It is wrong, for instance, for you to speak harshly or unkindly to your companions, or to do any thing to wound their feelings unnecessarily, in any way. But this is a universal principle of duty, not a rule of school. So it is wrong for you to be rude and noisy, and thus disturb others who are studying, or to brush by them carelessly, so as to jostle them at their writing or derange their books. But to be careful not to do injury to others in the reckless pursuit of our own pleasures is a universal principle of duty, not a rule of school. Such a case as this, for example, once occurred. A number of little girls began to amuse themselves in recess with running about among the desks in pursuit of one another, and they told me, in excuse for it, when I called them to account, that they did not know that it was "_against the rule"_. [Illustration] "It is not against the rule," said I; "I have never made any rule against running about among the desks." "Then," asked they, "did we do wrong?" "Do you think it would be a good plan," I inquired, "to have it a common amusement in the recess for the girls to hunt each other among the desks?" "No, sir," they replied, simultaneously. "Why not? There are some reasons. I do not know, however, whether you will have the ingenuity to think of them." "We may start the desks from their places," said one. "Yes," said I, "they are fastened down very slightly, so that I may easily alter their position." "We might upset the inkstands," said another. "Sometimes," added a third, "we run against the scholars who are sitting in their seats." "It seems, then, you have ingenuity enough to discover the reasons. Why did not these reasons prevent your doing it?" "We did not think of them before." "True; that is the exact state of the case. Now, when persons are so eager to promote their own enjoyment as to forget the rights and the comforts of others, it is _selfishness. _ Now is there any rule in this school against selfishness?" "No, sir." "You are right. There is not. But selfishness is wrong, very wrong, in whatever form it appears, here and every where else, and that whether I make any rules against it or not." You will see, from this anecdote, that, though there is but one rule of the school, I by no means intend to say that there is only _one way of doing wrong here._ That would be very absurd. You _must not do any thing which you may know, by proper reflection, to be in itself wrong._ This, however, is a universal principle of duty, not a _rule_ of the Mount Vernon School. If I should attempt to make rules which would specify and prohibit every possible way by which you might do wrong, my laws would be innumerable, and even then I should fail of securing my object, unless you had the disposition to do your duty. No legislation can enact laws as fast as a perverted ingenuity can find means to evade them. You will perhaps ask what will be the consequence if we transgress either the single rule of the school or any of the great principles of duty. In other words, What are the punishments which are resorted to in the Mount Vernon School? The answer is, there are no punishments. I do not say that I should not, in case all other means should fail, resort to the most decisive measures to secure obedience and subordination. Most certainly I should do so, as it would plainly be my duty to do it. If you should at any time be so unhappy as to violate your obligations to yourself, to your companions, or to me--should you misimprove your time, or exhibit an unkind or a selfish spirit, or be disrespectful or insubordinate to your teachers, I should go frankly and openly, but kindly to you, and endeavor to convince you of your fault. I should very probably do this by addressing a note to you, as I suppose this would be less unpleasant to you than a conversation. In such a case, I shall hope that you will as frankly and openly reply, telling me whether you admit your fault and are determined to amend, or else informing me of the contrary. I shall wish you to be _sincere_, and then I shall know what course to take next. But as to the consequences which may result to you if you should persist in what is wrong, it is not necessary that you should know them beforehand. They who wander from duty always plunge themselves into troubles which they do not anticipate; and if you do what, at the time you are doing it, you know to be wrong, it will not be unjust that you should suffer the consequences, even if they were not beforehand understood and expected. This will be the case with you all through life, and it will be the case here. I say it _will_ be the case here; I ought rather to say that it will be the case should you be so unhappy as to do wrong and to persist in it. Such persistance, however, never occurs--at least it occurs so seldom, and at intervals so great, that every thing of the nature of punishment, that is, the depriving a pupil of any enjoyment, or subjecting her to any disgrace, or giving her pain in any way in consequence of her faults, except the simple pain of awakening conscience in her bosom, is almost entirely unknown. I hope that you will always be ready to confess and forsake your faults, and endeavor, while you remain in school, to improve in character, and attain, as far as possible, every moral excellence. I ought to remark, before dismissing this topic, that I place very great confidence in the scholars in regard to their moral conduct and deportment, and they fully deserve it. I have no care and no trouble in what is commonly called _the government of the school._ Neither myself nor any one else is employed in any way in watching the scholars, or keeping any sort of account of them. I should not at any time hesitate to call all the teachers into an adjoining room, leaving the school alone for half an hour, and I should be confident that, at such a time, order, and stillness, and attention to study would prevail as much as ever. The scholars would not look to see whether I was in my desk, but whether the Study Card was up. The school was left in this way, half an hour every day, during a quarter, that we might have a teachers' meeting, and the studies went on generally quite as well, to say the least, as when the teachers were present. One or two instances of irregular conduct occurred. I do not now recollect precisely what they were. They were, however, fully acknowledged and not repeated, and I believe the scholars were generally more scrupulous and faithful then than at other times. They would not betray the confidence reposed in them. This plan was continued until it was found more convenient to have the teachers' meetings in the afternoons. When any thing wrong is done in school, I generally state the case, and request the individuals who have done it to let me know who they are. They inform me sometimes by notes and sometimes in conversation; but they always inform me. The plan _always_ succeeds. The scholars all know that there is nothing to be feared from confessing faults to me; but that, on the other hand, it is a most direct and certain way to secure returning peace and happiness. I can illustrate this by describing a case which actually occurred, though the description is not to be considered so much an accurate account of what took place in a particular instance as an illustration of the _general spirit and manner_ in which such cases are disposed of. I accidentally understood that some of the younger scholars were in the habit, during recesses and after school, of ringing the door-bell and then running away, to amuse themselves with the perplexity of their companions who should go to the door and find no one there. I explained in a few words, one day, to the school, that this was wrong. "How many," I then asked, "have ever been put to the trouble to go to the door when the bell has thus been rung? They may rise." A very large number of scholars stood up. Those who had done the mischief were evidently surprised at the extent of the trouble they had occasioned. "Now," I continued, "I think all will be convinced that the trouble which this practice has occasioned to the fifty or sixty young ladies, who can not be expected to find amusement in such a way, is far greater than the pleasure it can have given to the few who are young enough to have enjoyed it. Therefore it was wrong. Do you think that the girls who rang the bell might have known this by proper reflection?" "Yes, sir," the school generally answered. "I do not mean," said I, "if they had set themselves formally at work to think about the subject, but with such a degree of reflection as ought reasonably to be expected of little girls in the hilarity of recess and of play." "Yes, sir," was still the reply, but fainter than before. "There is one way by which I might ascertain whether you were old enough to know that this was wrong, and that is by asking those who have refrained from doing this, because they supposed it would be wrong, to rise. Then, if some of the youngest scholars in school should stand up, as I have no doubt they would, it would prove that all might have known, if they had been equally conscientious. But if I ask those to rise who have _not_ rung the bell, I shall make known to the whole school who they are that have done it, and I wish that the exposure of faults should be private, unless it is _necessary_ that it should be public. I will, therefore, not do it. I have myself, however, no doubt that all might have known that it was wrong. "There is," continued I, "another injury which must grow out of such a practice. This I should not have expected the little girls could think of. In fact, I doubt whether any in school will think of it. Can any one tell me what it is?" No one replied. "I should suppose that it would lead you to disregard the bell when it rings, and that consequently a gentleman or lady might sometimes ring in vain, the scholars near the door saying, 'Oh, it is only the little girls.'" "Yes, sir," was heard from all parts of the room. I found, from farther inquiry, that this had been the case, and I closed by saying, "I am satisfied that those who have inadvertently fallen into this practice are sorry for it, and that if I should leave it here, no more cases of it would occur, and this is all I wish. At the same time, they who have done this will feel more effectually relieved from the pain which having done wrong must necessarily give them, if they individually acknowledge it to me. I wish, therefore, that all who have thus rung the bell in play would write me notes stating the facts. If any one does not do it, she will punish herself severely, for she will feel for many days to come that while her companions were willing to acknowledge their faults, she wished to conceal and cover hers. Conscience will reproach her bitterly for her insincerity, and, whenever she hears the sound of the door-bell, it will remind her not only of her fault, but of what is far worse, _her willingness to appear innocent when she was really guilty."_ Before the close of the school I had eight or ten notes acknowledging the fault, describing the circumstances of each case, and expressing promises to do so no more. It is by such methods as this, rather than by threatening and punishment, that I manage the cases of discipline which from time to time occur; but even such as this, slight as it is, occur very seldom. Weeks and weeks sometimes elapse without one. When they do occur, they are always easily settled by confession and reform. Sometimes I am asked to _forgive_ the offense. But I have no power to forgive. God must forgive you when you do wrong, or the burden must remain. My duty is to take measures to prevent future transgression, and to lead those who have been guilty of it to God for pardon. If they do not go to Him, though they may satisfy me, as principal of a school, by not repeating the offence, they must remain _unforgiven_. I can _forget_, and I do forget. For example, in this last case I have not the slightest recollection of any individual who was engaged in it. The evil was entirely removed, and had it not afforded me a convenient illustration here, perhaps I should never have thought of it again; still, it may not yet be _forgiven._ It may seem strange that I should speak so seriously of God's forgiveness for such a trifle as that. Does He notice a child's ringing a door-bell in play? He notices when a child is willing to yield to temptation to do what she knows to be wrong, and to act even in the slightest trifle from a selfish disregard for the convenience of others. This spirit He always notices, and though I may stop any particular form of its exhibition, it is for Him alone to forgive it and to purify the heart from its power. But I shall speak more particularly on this subject under the head of Religious Instruction. II. ORDER OF DAILY EXERCISES. There will be given you, when you enter the school, a blank schedule, in which the divisions of each forenoon for one week are marked, and in which your own employments for every half hour are to be written. (A copy of this is inserted on page 222.) This schedule, when filled up, forms a sort of a map for the week, in which you can readily find what are your duties for any particular time. The following description will enable you better to understand it. _Opening of the School._ The first thing which will call your attention as the hour for the commencement of the school approaches in the morning is the ringing of a bell five minutes before the time arrives by the regulator, who sits at the curtained desk before the Study Card. One minute before the time the bell is rung again, which is the signal for all to take their seats and prepare for the opening of the school. When the precise moment arrives, the Study Card is drawn up, and at the sound of its little bell, all the scholars recline their heads upon their desks, and unite with me in a very short prayer for God's protection and blessing during the day. I adopted the plan of allowing the scholars to sit, because I thought it would be pleasanter for them, and they have, in return, been generally, so far as I know, faithful in complying with my wish that they would all assume the posture proposed, so that the school may present the uniform and serious aspect which is proper when we are engaged in so solemn a duty. If you move your chair back a little, you will find the posture not inconvenient; but the only reward you will have for faithfully complying with the general custom is the pleasure of doing your duty, for no one watches you, and you would not be called to account should you neglect to conform to the usage of the school. I hope, however, that you will conform to it. Indeed, all truly refined and well-bred people make it a universal rule of life to conform to the innocent religious usages of those around them, wherever they may be. After the prayer we sing one or two verses of a hymn. The music is led by a piano, and we wish all to join in it who can sing. The exercises which follow are exhibited to the eye by the diagram on the next page. MOUNT VERNON SCHOOL SCHEDULE OF STUDIES. 1833. _Miss_ +---------+---------------+-----------+-----+-----------+-----+-----------+ | |FIRST HOUR. |SECOND HOUR| |THIRD HOUR | |FOURTH HOUR| | +---------------+-----------+--+--+-----------+--+--+-----------+ | |EVENING LESSONS|LANGUAGES. |G.|R.|MATHEMATICS|G.|R.|SECTIONS. | +---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+--+-----+-----+--+--+-----------+ |MONDAY | | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+ +-----+-----+--+ +-----------+ |TUESDAY | | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+ +-----+-----+--+ +-----------+ |WEDNESDAY| | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+ +-----+-----+--+ +-----------+ |THURSDAY | | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+ +-----+-----+--+ +-----------+ |FRIDAY | | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+ +-----+-----+--+ +-----------+ |SATURDAY | | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+--------+------+-----+-----+--+--+-----+-----+--+--+-----------+ I now proceed to describe in detail the several hours, as represented in the diagram. _First Hour._--_Evening Lessons._ The first hour of the day, as you will see by the schedule, is marked evening lessons, because most, though not all, of the studies assigned to it are intended to be prepared out of school. These studies are miscellaneous in their character, comprising Geography, History, Natural and Intellectual Philosophy, and Natural History. This hour, like all the other hours for study, is divided into two equal parts, some classes reciting in the first part, and others in the second. A bell is always rung _five minutes before_ the time for closing the recitation, to give the teachers notice that their time is nearly expired, and then again _at the time,_ to give notice to new classes to take their places. Thus you will observe that five minutes before the half hour expires the bell will ring, soon after which the classes in recitation will take their seats. Precisely at the end of the half hour it will ring again, when new classes will take their places. In the same manner, notice is given five minutes before the second half of the hour expires, and so in all the other three hours. At the end of the first hour the Study Card will be let half down five minutes, and you will perceive that the sound of its bell will immediately produce a decided change in the whole aspect of the room. It is the signal, as has been before explained, for universal permission to whisper and to leave seats, though not for loud talking or play, so that those who wish to continue their studies may do so without interruption. When the five-minute period has expired the card goes up again, and its sound immediately restores silence and order. _Second Hour._--_Languages._ We then commence the second hour of the school. This is devoted to the study of the languages. The Latin, French, and English classes recite at this time. By English classes I mean those studying the English _as a language,_ that is, classes in Grammar, Rhetoric, and Composition. The hour is divided as the first hour is, and the bell is rung in the same way, that is, at the close of each half hour, and also five minutes before the close, to give the classes notice that the time for recitation is about to expire. _First General Exercise._ You will observe, then, that there follows upon the schedule a quarter of an hour marked G. That initial stands for General Exercise, and when it arrives each pupil is to lay aside her work, and attend to any exercise which may be proposed. This quarter of an hour is appropriated to a great variety of purposes. Sometimes I give a short and familiar lecture on some useful subject connected with science or art, or the principles of duty. Sometimes we have a general reading lesson. Sometimes we turn the school into a Bible class. Again, the time is occupied in attending to some _general_ business of the school. The bell is rung one minute before the close of the time, and when the period appropriated to this purpose has actually expired, the Study Card, for the first time in the morning, is let entirely down, and the room is at once suddenly transformed into a scene of life, and motion, and gayety. _First Recess._ The time for the recess is a quarter of an hour, and, as you will see, it is marked R. on the schedule. We have various modes of amusing ourselves, and finding exercise and recreation in recesses. Sometimes the girls bring their battledores to school. Sometimes they have a large number of soft balls with which they amuse themselves. A more common amusement is marching to the music of the piano. For this purpose a set of signals by the whistle has been devised, by which commands are communicated to the school. In these and similar amusements the recesses pass away, and one minute before it expires the bell is rung to give notice of the approach of study hours. At this signal the scholars begin to prepare for a return to the ordinary duties of school, and when, at the full expiration of the recess, the Study Card again goes up, silence, and attention, and order is immediately restored. _Third Hour.--Mathematics_. There follows next, as you will see by reference to the schedule, an hour marked Mathematics. It is time for studying and reciting Arithmetic, Algebra, Geometry, and similar studies. It is divided, as the previous hours were, into two equal parts, and the bell is rung, as has been described, five minutes before the close, and also precisely at the close of each half hour. _Second General Exercise.--Business_. Then follow two quarter hours, appropriated like those heretofore described, the first to a General Exercise, the second to a recess. At the first of these the general business of the school is transacted. As this business will probably appear new to you, and will attract your attention, I will describe its nature and design. At first you will observe a young lady rise at the secretary's desk to read a journal of what was done the day before. The notices which I gave, the arrangements I made, the subjects discussed and decided, and, in fact, every thing important and interesting in the business or occurrences of the preceding day, is recorded by the secretary of the school, and read at this time. This journal ought not to be a mere dry record of votes and business, but, as far as possible, an interesting description, in a narrative style, of the occurrences of the day. The secretary must keep a memorandum, and ascertain that every thing important really finds a place in the record, but she may employ any good writer in school to prepare, from her minutes, the full account. After the record is read, you will observe me take from a little red morocco wrapper which has been brought to my desk a number of narrow slips of paper, which I am to read aloud. In most assemblies, it is customary for any person wishing it to rise in his place and propose any plan, or, as it is called, "make any motion" that he pleases. It would be unpleasant for a young lady to do this in presence of a hundred companions, and we have consequently resorted to another plan. The red wrapper is placed in a part of the room accessible to all, and any one who pleases writes upon a narrow slip of paper any thing she wishes to lay before the school, and deposits it there, and at the appointed time the whole are brought to me. These propositions are of various kinds. I can, perhaps, best give you an idea of them by such specimens as occur to me. "A.B. resigns her office of copyist, as she is about to leave school." "Proposed that a class in Botany be formed. There are many who would like to join it." "When will vacation commence?" "Proposed that a music committee be appointed, so that we can have some marching in recess." "Proposed that school begin at nine o'clock." "Mr. Abbott, will you have the goodness to explain to us what is meant by the Veto Message?" "Proposed that we have locks upon our desks." You see that the variety is very great, and there are usually from four or five to ten or fifteen of such papers daily. You will be at liberty to make in this way any suggestion or inquiry, or to propose any change you please in any part of the instruction or administration of the school. If any thing dissatisfies you, you ought not to murmur at it in private, or complain of it to your companions, thus injuring to no purpose both your own peace and happiness and theirs, but you ought immediately to bring up the subject in the way above described, that the evil may be removed. I receive some of the most valuable suggestions in this way from the older and most reflecting pupils. These suggestions are read. Sometimes I decide the question that arises myself. Sometimes I say that the pupils may decide it. Sometimes I ask their opinion and wishes, and then, after taking them into consideration, come to a conclusion. For example, I will insert a few of these propositions, as these papers are called, describing the way in which they would be disposed of. Most of them are real cases. "Mr. Abbott, the first class in Geography is so large that we have not room in the recitation seats. Can not we have another place?" After reading this, I should perhaps say, "The class in Geography may rise and be counted." They rise. Those in each division are counted by the proper officer, as will hereafter be explained, and the numbers are reported aloud to me. It is all done in a moment. "How many of you think you need better accommodations?" If a majority of hands are raised, I say, "I wish the teacher of that class would ascertain whether any other place of recitation is vacant, or occupied by a smaller class at that time, and report the case to me." "Proposed that we be allowed to walk upon the common in the recesses." "I should like to have some plan formed by which you can walk on the common in recesses, but there are difficulties. If all should go out together, it is probable that some would be rude and noisy, and that others would come back tardy and out of breath. Besides, as the recess is short, so many would be in haste to prepare to go out, that there would be a great crowd and much confusion in the ante-room and passage-ways. I do not mention these as insuperable objections, but only as difficulties which there must be some plan to avoid. Perhaps, however, they can not be avoided. Do any of you think of any plan?" I see, perhaps, two or three hands raised, and call upon the individuals by name, and they express their opinions. One says that a part can go out at a time. Another proposes that those who are tardy one day should not go out again, &c. "I think it possible that a plan can be formed on these or some such principles. If you will appoint a committee who will prepare a plan, and mature its details, and take charge of the execution of it, you may try the experiment. I will allow it to go on as long as you avoid the evils I have above alluded to." A committee is then raised, to report in writing at the business hour of the following day. "Proposed that the Study Card be down every half hour." "You may decide this question yourselves. That you may vote more freely, I wish you to vote by ballot. The boxes will be open during the next recess. The vote-receivers will write the question and place it upon the boxes. All who feel interested in the subject may carry in their votes, Aye or Nay. When the result is reported to me I will read it to the school." In this and similar ways the various business brought up is disposed of. This custom is useful to the scholars, for it exercises and strengthens their judgment and their reflecting powers more than almost any thing besides; so that, if interesting them in this way in the management of the school were of no benefit to me, I should retain the practice as most valuable to them. But it is most useful to me and to the school. I think that nothing has contributed more to its prosperity than the active interest which the scholars have always taken in its concerns, and the assistance they have rendered me in carrying my plans into effect. You will observe that in transacting this business very little is actually done by myself, except making the ultimate decision. All the details of business are assigned to teachers, or to officers and committees appointed for the purpose. By this means we dispatch business very rapidly. The system of offices will be explained in another place; but I may say here that all appointments and elections are made in this quarter hour, and by means of the assistance of these officers the transaction of business is so facilitated that much more can sometimes be accomplished than you would suppose possible. I consider this period as one of the most important in the whole morning. _Second Recess._ After the expiration of the quarter hour above described, the Study Card is dropped, and a recess succeeds. _Fourth Hour._--_Sections_. In all the former part of the day the scholars are divided into _classes_, according to their proficiency in particular branches of study, and they resort to their _recitations_ for _instruction. _ They now are divided into six _sections_, as we call them, and placed under the care of _superintendents_, not for instruction, but for what may be called supervision. _Teaching_ a pupil is not all that is necessary to be done for her in school. There are many other things to be attended to, such as supplying her with the various articles necessary for her use, seeing that her desk is convenient, that her time is well arranged, that she has not too much to do nor too little, and that no difficulty which can be removed obstructs her progress in study or her happiness in school. The last hour is appropriated to this purpose, with the understanding, however, that such a portion of it as is not wanted by the superintendent is to be spent in study. You will see, then, when the last hour arrives, that all the scholars go in various directions to the meetings of their respective sections. Here they remain as long as the superintendent retains them. Sometimes they adjourn almost immediately, perhaps after having simply attended to the distribution of pens for the next day; at other times they remain during the hour, attending to such exercises as the superintendent may plan. The design, however, and nature of this whole arrangement I shall explain more fully in another place. _Close of the School._ As the end of the hour approaches, five minutes' notice is given by the bell, and when the time arrives the Study Card is half dropped for a moment before the closing exercises. When it rises again the room is restored to silence and order. We then sing a verse or two of a hymn, and commend ourselves to God's protection in a short prayer. As the scholars raise their heads from the posture of reverence which they have assumed, they pause a moment till the regulator lets down the Study Card, and the sound of its bell is the signal that our duties at school are ended for the day. III. INSTRUCTION AND SUPERVISION OF PUPILS. For the instruction of the pupils the school is divided into _classes_, and for their general supervision into _sections_, as has been intimated under the preceding caption. The head of a _class_ is called a _teacher_, and the head of a _section_ a _superintendent_. The same individual may be both the teacher of a class and the superintendent of a section. The two offices are, however, entirely distinct in their nature and design. As you will perceive by recalling to mind the daily order of exercises, the classes meet and recite during the first three hours of the school, and the sections assemble on the fourth and last. We shall give each a separate description. 1. CLASSES. The object of the division into classes is _instruction_. Whenever it is desirable that several individuals should pursue a particular study, a list of their names is made out, a book selected, a time for recitation assigned, a teacher appointed, and the exercises begin. In this way a large number of classes have been formed, and the wishes of parents, or the opinion of the principal, and, in many cases, that of the pupil, determines how many and what shall be assigned to each individual. A list of these classes, with the average age of the members, the name of the teacher, and the time of recitation, is posted in a conspicuous place, and public notice is given whenever a new class is formed. You will therefore have the opportunity to know all the arrangements of school in this respect, and I wish you to exercise your own judgment and discretion a great deal in regard to your studies. I do not mean I expect you to _decide_, but to _reflect_ upon them. Look at the list, and consider what are most useful for you. Propose to me or to your parents changes, whenever you think they are necessary; and when you finish one study, reflect carefully, yourself, on the question what you shall next commence. The scholars prepare their lessons when they please. They are expected to be present and prepared at the time of recitation, but they make the preparation when it is most convenient. The more methodical and systematic of the young ladies mark the times of _study_ as well as of _recitation_ upon their schedules, so that the employment of their whole time at school is regulated by a systematic plan. You will observe, too, that by this plan of having a great many classes reciting through the first three hours of the morning, every pupil can be employed as much or as little as her parents desire. In a case of ill health, she may, as has often been done in such cases at the request of parents, join one or two classes only, and occupy the whole forenoon in preparing for them, and be entirely free from school duties at home. Or she may, as is much more frequently the case, choose to join a great many classes, so as to fill up, perhaps, her whole schedule with recitations, in which case she must prepare all her lessons at home. It is the duty of teachers to take care, however, when a pupil pleads want of time as a reason for being unprepared in any lesson, that the case is fully examined, in order that it may be ascertained whether the individual has joined too many classes, in which case some one should be dropped, and thus the time and the employments of each individual should be so adjusted as to give her constant occupation _in school,_ and as much more as her parents may desire. By this plan of the classes, each scholar advances just as rapidly in her studies as her time, and talents, and health will allow. No one is kept back by the rest. Each class goes on regularly and systematically, all its members keeping exactly together in that study; but the various members of it will have joined a greater or less number of other classes, according to their age, or abilities, or progress in study, so that all will or may have full employment for their time. When you first enter the school, you will, for a day or two, be assigned to but few classes, for your mind will be distracted by the excitement of new scenes and pursuits, and the intellectual effort necessary for _joining_ a class is greater than that requisite for _going on_ with it after being once under way. After a few days you will come to me and say, perhaps (for this is ordinarily the process), "Mr. Abbott, I think I have time for some more studies." "I will thank you to bring me your schedule," I say in reply, "so that I can see what you have now to do." By glancing my eye over the schedule in such a case, I see in a moment what duties have been already assigned you, and from my general schedule, containing all the studies of the school, I select what would be most suitable for you after conferring with you about your past pursuits, and your own wishes or those of your parents in regard to your future course. Additions are thus made until your time is fully occupied. The manner of recitation in the classes is almost boundlessly varied. The design is not to have you commit to memory what the book contains, but to understand and digest it--to incorporate it fully into your own mind, that it may come up in future life in such a form as you wish it for use. Do not then, in ordinary cases, endeavor to fix _words_, but _ideas_ in your minds. Conceive clearly--paint distinctly to your imagination what is described--contemplate facts in all their bearings and relations, and thus endeavor to exercise the judgment, and the thinking and reasoning powers, rather than the mere memory, upon the subjects which will come before you. 2. SECTIONS. In describing the order of daily exercises, I alluded to the _sections_ which assemble in the last hour of the school. It is necessary that I should fully describe the system of sections, as it constitutes a very important part of the plan of the school. Besides giving the scholars the necessary intellectual instruction, there are, as I have already remarked, a great many other points which must receive attention in order to promote their progress, and to secure the regular operation and general welfare of the school. These various points have something common in their nature, but it is difficult to give them a common name. They are such as supplying the pupils with pens and paper, and stationery of other kinds; becoming acquainted with each individual; ascertaining that she has enough and not too much to do; arranging her work so that no one of her duties shall interfere with another; assisting her to discover and correct her faults, and removing any sources of difficulty or causes of discontent which may gradually come in her way. These, and a multitude of similar points, constituting what may be called the general _administration_ of the school, become, when the number of pupils is large, a most important branch of the teacher's duty. To accomplish these objects more effectually, the school is divided into six sections, arranged, not according to proficiency in particular studies, as the several classes are, but according to _age and general maturity of mind._ Each one of these sections is assigned to the care of a superintendent. These superintendents, it is true, during most of school hours, are also teachers. Their duties, however, as _Teachers_ and as _Superintendents_, are entirely distinct. I shall briefly enumerate the duties which devolve upon her in the latter capacity. 1. A superintendent ought to prepare an exact list of the members of her section, and to become intimately acquainted with them, so as to be as far as possible their friend and confidante, and to feel a stronger interest in their progress in study and their happiness in school, and a greater personal attachment to them than to any other scholars. 2. She is to superintend the preparation of their schedules; to see that each one has enough and not too much to do, by making known to me the necessity of a change, where such necessity exists; to see that the schedules are submitted to the parents, and that their opinion or suggestions, if they wish to make any, are reported to me. 3. She is to take care that all the daily wants of her section are supplied--that all have pens and paper, and desks of suitable height. If any are new scholars, she ought to interest herself in assisting them to become acquainted in school; if they are friendless and alone, to find companions for them, and to endeavor in every way to make their time pass pleasantly and happily. 4. To watch the characters of the members of her section. To inquire of their several teachers as to the progress they make in study, and the faithfulness and punctuality with which they prepare their lessons. She ought to ascertain whether they are punctual at school and regular in their habits--whether their desks are neat and well arranged, and their exercises carefully executed. She ought to correct, through her own influence, any evils of this kind she may find, or else immediately to refer the cases where this can not be done to me. The better and the more pleasantly to accomplish the object of exerting a favorable influence upon the characters of the members of their section, the superintendents ought often to bring up subjects connected with moral and religious duty in section meetings. This may be done in the form of subjects assigned for composition, or proposed for free discussion in writing or conversation, or the superintendents may write themselves, and read to the section the instructions they wish to give. When subjects for written composition are thus assigned, they should be so presented to the pupils as to lead their minds to a very practical mode of regarding them. For example, instead of simply assigning the subject _Truth_ as the theme of an abstract moral essay, bring up definite points of a practical character, such especially as are connected with the trials and temptations of early life. "I wish you would all give me your opinions," the teacher might say in such a case, "on the question, What is the most frequent inducement that leads children to tell falsehoods? Also, do you think it is right to tell untruths to very little children, as many persons do, or to people who are sick? Also, whether it would be right to tell a falsehood to an insane man in order to manage him?" Sometimes, instead of assigning a subject of composition _verbally_, the superintendent exhibits an engraving, and the several members of the class then write any thing they please which is suggested to them by the engraving. For example, suppose the picture thus exhibited were to represent a girl sewing in an attic. The compositions to which it would give rise might be very various. One pupil would perhaps simply give an account of the picture itself, describing the arrangements of the room, and specifying the particular articles of furniture contained in it. Another would give a soliloquy supposed to be spoken by the sewing-girl as she sits at her work. Another would narrate the history of her life, of course an imaginary one. Another would write an essay on the advantages of industry and independence. This is a very good way of assigning subjects of composition, and, if well managed, it may be the means of awakening a great interest in writing among almost all the pupils of a school. 5. Though the superintendents, as such, have, necessarily speaking, no _teaching_ to do, still they ought particularly to secure the progress of every pupil in what may be called the _essential_ studies, such as reading, writing, and spelling. For this purpose, they either see that their pupils are going on successfully in classes in school in these branches, or they may attend to them in the section, provided that they never allow such instruction to interfere with their more appropriate and important duties. In a word, the superintendents are to consider the members of their sections as pupils confided to their care, and they are not merely to discharge mechanically any mere routine of duty, such as can be here pointed out, but to exert all their powers, their ingenuity, their knowledge of human character, their judgment and discretion, in every way, to secure for each of those committed to their care the highest benefits which the institution to which they belong can afford. They are to keep a careful and faithful record of their plans and of the history of their respective sections, and to endeavor as faithfully and as diligently to advance the interests of the members of them as if the sections were separate and independent schools of their own. A great responsibility is thus evidently intrusted to them, but not a great deal of _power_. They ought not to make changes, except in very plain cases, without referring the subject to me. They ought not to make rash experiments, or even to try many new plans, without first obtaining my approval of them. They ought to refer all cases which they can not easily manage to my care. They ought to understand the distinction between _seeing that a thing is done_ and _doing it_. For example, if a superintendent thinks that one of her section is in too high a class in Arithmetic, her duty is not to undertake, by her own authority, to remove her to a lower one, for, as superintendent, she has no authority over Arithmetic classes, nor should she go to the opposite extreme of saying, "I have no authority over Arithmetic classes, and therefore I have nothing to do with this case." She ought to go to the teacher of the class to which her pupil had been unwisely assigned, converse with her, obtain her opinion, then find some other class more suited to her attainments, and after fully ascertaining all the facts in the case, bring them to me, that I may make the change. This is _superintendence--looking over_ the condition and progress of the scholar. The superintendents have thus great responsibility, and yet, comparatively, little power. They accomplish a great deal of good, and, in its ordinary course, it is by their direct personal efforts; but in making changes, and remedying defects and evils, they act generally in a different way. The last hour of school is devoted to the sections. No classes recite then, but the sections meet, if the superintendents wish, and attend to such exercises as they provide. Each section has its own organization, its own officers and plans. These arrangements of course vary in their character according to the ingenuity and enterprise of the superintendents, and more especially according to the talents and intellectual ardor of the members of the section. The two upper sections are called senior, the next two middle, and the two younger junior. The senior sections are distinguished by using paper for section purposes with a light blue tinge. To the middle sections is assigned a light straw color; and to the junior, pink. These colors are used for the schedules of the members, and for the records and other documents of the section. This account, though it is brief, will be sufficient to explain to you the general principles of the plan. You will soon become acquainted with the exercises and arrangements of the particular section to which you will be assigned, and by taking an active interest in them, and endeavoring to cooperate with the superintendent in all her measures and to comply with her wishes, you will very materially add to her happiness, and do your part toward elevating the character of the circle to which you will belong. IV. OFFICERS. In consequence of the disposition early manifested by the scholars to render me every assistance in their power in carrying into effect the plans of the school and promoting its prosperity, I gradually adopted the plan of assigning to various officers and committees, a number of specific duties relating to the general business of the school. These officers have gradually multiplied as the school has increased and as business has accumulated. The system has, from time to time, been revised, condensed, and simplified, and at the present time it is thus arranged. The particular duties of each officer are minutely described to the individuals themselves at the time of their election; all I intend here is to give a general view of the plan, such as is necessary for the scholars at large. There are, then, _five departments_ of business intrusted to officers of the school. The names of the officers, and a brief exposition of their duties, are as follows: [I omit the particular explanation of the duties of the officers, as the arrangement must vary in different schools, and the details of any one plan can only be useful in the school-room to which it belongs. It will be sufficient to name the officers of each department, with their duties, in general terms.] 1. REGULATORS.--To assist in the ordinary routine of business in school: ringing the bells; managing the Study Card; distributing and collecting papers; counting votes, &c. 2. SECRETARIES.--Keeping the records, and executing writing of various kinds. 3. ACCOUNTANTS.--Keeping a register of the scholars, and various other duties connected with the accounts. 4. LIBRARIANS.--To take charge of books and stationery. 5. CURATORS.--To secure neatness and good order in the apartments. The secretaries and accountants are appointed by the principal, and will generally be chosen from the teachers. The first in each of the other departments are chosen by ballot, by the scholars. Each one thus chosen nominates the second in her department, and they two the assistants. These nominations must be approved at a teachers' meeting; for, if a scholar is inattentive to her studies, disorderly in her desk, or careless and troublesome in her manners, she evidently ought not to be appointed to public office. No person can hold an office in two of these departments. She can, if she pleases, however, resign one to accept another. Each of these departments ought often to assemble and consult together, and form plans for carrying into effect with greater efficiency the objects intrusted to them. They are to keep a record of all their proceedings, the head of the department acting as secretary for this purpose. The following may be given as an example of the manner in which business is transacted by means of these officers. On the day that the above description of their duties was written, I wished for a sort of directory to assist the collector employed to receive payments for the bills, and, to obtain it, I took the following steps: At the business quarter hour I issued the following order: "Before the close of school, I wish the distributors to leave upon each of the desks a piece of paper" (the size I described). "It is for a purpose which I shall then explain." Accordingly, at some leisure moment before the close of school, each one of the regulators went with her box to the stationery shelves, which you will see in the corners of the room, where a supply of paper of all the various sizes used in school is kept, and, taking out a sufficient number, they supplied all the desks in their respective divisions. When the time for closing school arrived, I requested each young lady to write the name of her parent or guardian upon the paper, and opposite to it his place of business. This was done in a minute or two. "All those whose parent's or guardian's name begins with a letter above _m_ may rise." They rose. "The distributors may collect the papers." The officers then passed round in regular order, each through her own division, and collected the papers. "Deliver them at the accountants' desk." They were accordingly carried there, and received by the accountants. In the same manner, the others were collected and received by the accountants, but kept separate. "I wish now the second accountant would copy these in a little book I have prepared for the purpose, arranging them alphabetically, referring all doubtful cases again to me." The second accountant then arranged the papers, and prepared them to go into the book, and the writer who belongs to the department copied them fairly. I describe this case, because it was one which occurred at the time I was writing the above description, and not because there is any thing otherwise peculiar in it. Such cases are continually taking place, and by the division of labor above illustrated, I am very much assisted in a great many of the duties which would otherwise consume a great portion of my time. Any of the scholars may at any time make suggestions in writing to any of these officers or to the whole school; and if an officer should be partial, or unfaithful, or negligent in her duty, any scholar may propose her impeachment. After hearing what she chooses to write in her defense, a vote is taken on sustaining the impeachment. If it is sustained, she is deprived of the office, and another appointed to fill her place. V. THE COURT. I have already described how all serious cases of doing wrong or neglect of duty are managed in the school. I manage them myself, by coming as directly and as openly as I can to the heart and conscience of the offender. There are, however, a number of little transgressions, too small to be individually worthy of serious attention, but which are yet troublesome to the community when frequently repeated. These relate chiefly to _order in the school-rooms_. These misdemeanors are tried, half in jest and half in earnest, by a sort of _court_, whose forms of process might make a legal gentleman smile. They, however, fully answer our purpose. I can best give you an idea of the court by describing an actual trial. I ought, however, first to say that any young lady who chooses to be free from the jurisdiction of the court can signify that wish to me, and she is safe from it. This, however, is never done. They all see the useful influence of it, and wish to sustain it. Near the close of school, I find, perhaps, on my desk a paper, of which the following may be considered a copy. It is called the indictment. We accuse Miss A.B. of having waste papers in the aisle opposite her desk, at 11 o'clock, on Friday, Oct. 12. C.D.} E.F.} Witnesses. I give notice after school that a case is to be tried. Those interested, twenty or thirty perhaps, gather around my desk, while the sheriff goes to summon the accused and the witnesses. A certain space is marked off as the precincts of the court, within which no one must enter in the slightest degree, on pain of imprisonment, that is, confinement to her seat until court adjourns. "Miss A.B., you are accused of having an untidy floor about your desk. Have you any objection to the indictment?" While she is looking over the indictment to discover a misspelled word, or an error in the date, or some other latent flaw, I appoint any two of the by-standers jury. The jury come forward to listen to the cause. The accused returns the indictment, saying she has no objection, and the witnesses are called upon to present their testimony. Perhaps the prisoner alleges in defense that the papers were out _in the aisle_, not _under her desk_, or that she did not put them there, or that they were too few or too small to deserve attention. My charge to the jury would be somewhat as follows: "You are to consider and decide whether she was guilty of disorder, taking into view the testimony of the witnesses and also her defense. It is considered here that each young lady is responsible not only for the appearance of the carpet _under her desk_, but also for _the aisle opposite to it_, so that her first ground of defense must be abandoned. So, also, with the second, that she did not put them there. She ought not to _have_ them there. Each scholar must keep her own place in a proper condition; so that if disorder is found there, no matter who made it, she is responsible if she only had time to remove it. As to the third, you must judge whether enough has been proved by the witnesses to make out real disorder." The jury write _guilty_ or _not guilty_ upon the paper, and it is returned to me. If sentence is pronounced, it is usually confinement to the seat during a recess, or part of a recess, or something that requires a slight effort or sacrifice for the public good. The sentence is always something _real_, though always _slight_, and the court has a great deal of influence in a double way--making amusement and preserving order. The cases tried are very various, but none of the serious business of the school is intrusted to it. Its sessions are always held out of school hours, and, in fact, it is hardly considered by the scholars as a constituent part of the arrangements of the school; so much so, that I hesitated much about inserting an account of it in this description. VI. RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. In giving you this account, brief as it is, I ought not to omit to speak of one feature of our plan, which we have always intended should be one of the most prominent and distinctive characteristics of the school. The gentlemen who originally interested themselves in its establishment had mainly in view the exertion, by the principal, of a decided moral and religious influence over the hearts of the pupils. Knowing, as they did, how much more dutiful and affectionate at home you would be, how much more successful in your studies at school, how much happier in your intercourse with each other, and in your prospects for the future both here and hereafter, if your hearts could be brought under the influence of Christian principle, they were strongly desirous that the school should be so conducted that its religious influence, though gentle and alluring in its character, should be frank, and open, and decided. I need not say that I myself entered very cordially into these views. It has been my constant effort, and one of the greatest sources of my enjoyment, to try to win my pupils to piety, and to create such an atmosphere in school that conscience, and moral principle, and affection for the unseen Jehovah should reign here. You can easily see how much pleasanter it is for me to have the school controlled by such influence, than if it were necessary for me to hire you to diligence in duty by prizes or rewards, or to deter you from neglect or from transgression by reproaches, and threatenings, and punishments. The influence which the school has thus exerted has always been cordially welcomed by my pupils, and approved, so far as I have known, by their parents, though four or five denominations, and fifteen or twenty different congregations, have been from time to time represented in the school. There are few parents who would not like to have their children _Christians_--sincerely and practically so; for everything which a parent can desire in a child is promoted just in proportion as she opens her heart to the influence of the spirit of piety. But that you may understand what course is taken, I shall describe, first, what I wish to effect in the hearts of my pupils, and then what means I take to accomplish the object. 1. A large number of young persons of your age, and in circumstances similar to those in which you are placed, perform with some fidelity their various outward duties, _but maintain no habitual and daily communion with God_. It is very wrong for them to live thus without God, but they do not see, or, rather, do not feel the guilt of it. They only think of their accountability to _human beings_ like themselves; for example, their parents, teachers, brothers and sisters, and friends. Consequently, they think most of their _external_ conduct, which is all that human beings can see. Their i>hearts_ are neglected, and become very impure, full of evil thoughts, and desires, and passions, which are not repented of, and consequently not forgiven. Now what I wish to accomplish in regard to all my pupils is, that they should begin to _feel their accountability to God_, and to act according to it; that they should explore their _hearts_, and ask God's forgiveness for all their past sins, through Jesus Christ, who died for them that they might be forgiven; and that they should from this time try to live _near to God_, feel his presence, and enjoy that solid peace and happiness which flows from a sense of his protection. When such a change takes place, it relieves the mind from that constant and irritating uneasiness which the great mass of mankind feel as a constant burden; the ceaseless forebodings of a troubled conscience reproaching them for their past accumulated guilt, and warning them of a judgment to come. The change which I endeavor to promote relieves the heart both of the present suffering and of the future danger. After endeavoring to induce you to begin to act from Christian principle, I wish to explain to you your various duties to yourselves, your parents, and to God. 2. The measures to which I resort to accomplish these objects are three: First, _Religious Exercises in School_.--We open and close the school with a very short prayer and one or two verses of a hymn. Sometimes I occupy ten or fifteen minutes at one of the general exercises, or at the close of the school, in giving instruction upon practical religious duty. The subjects are sometimes suggested by a passage of Scripture read for the purpose, but more commonly in another way. You will observe often, at the close of the school or at an appointed general exercise, that a scholar will bring to my desk a dark-colored morocco wrapper containing several small strips of paper, upon which questions relating to moral or religious duty, or subjects for remarks from me, or anecdotes, or short statements of facts, giving rise to inquiries of various kinds, are written. This wrapper is deposited in a place accessible to all the scholars, and any one who pleases deposits in it any question or suggestion on religious subjects which may occur to her. You can at any time do this yourself, thus presenting any doubt, or difficulty, or inquiry which may at any time occur to you. Secondly, _Religious Exercise on Saturday afternoon_.--In order to bring up more distinctly and systematically the subject of religious duty, I established, a long time ago, a religious meeting on Saturday afternoon. It is intended for those who feel interested in receiving such instruction, and who can conveniently attend at that time. If you have no other engagements, and if your parents approve of it, I should be happy to have you attend. There will be very little to interest you except the subject itself, for I make all the instructions which I give there as plain, direct, and practical as is in my power. A considerable number of the scholars usually attend, and frequently bring with them many of their female friends. You can at any time invite any one whom you please to come to the meeting. It commences at half past three, and continues about half an hour. Thirdly, _Personal Religious Instruction._--In consequence of the large number of my pupils, and the constant occupation of my time in school, I have scarcely any opportunity of religious conversation with them, even with those who particularly desire it. The practice has therefore arisen, and gradually extended itself almost universally in school, of writing to me on the subject. These communications are usually brief notes, expressing the writer's interest in the duties of piety, or bringing forward her own peculiar practical difficulties, or making specific inquiries, or asking particular instruction in regard to some branch of religious duty. I answer in a similar way, very briefly and concisely, however, for the number of notes of this kind which I receive is very large, and the time which I can devote to such a correspondence necessarily limited. I should like to receive such communications from all my pupils; for advice or instruction communicated in reply, being directly personal, is far more likely to produce effect. Besides, my remarks, being in writing, can be read a second time, and be more attentively considered and reconsidered than when words are merely spoken. These communications must always be begun by the pupil. I never (unless there may be occasional exceptions in some few very peculiar cases) commence. I am prevented from doing this both by my unwillingness to obtrude such a subject personally upon those who might not welcome it, and by want of time. I have scarcely time to write to all those who are willing first to write to me. Many cases have occurred where individuals have strongly desired some private communication with me, but have hesitated long, and shrunk reluctantly from the first step. I hope it will not be so with you. Should you ever wish to receive from me any direct religious instruction, I hope you will write immediately and freely. I shall very probably not even notice that it is the first time I have received such a communication from you. So numerous and so frequent are these communications, that I seldom observe, when I receive one from any individual for the first time, that it comes from one who has not written me before. Such are the means to which I resort in endeavoring to lead my pupils to God and to duty, and you will observe that the whole design of them is to win and to allure, not to compel. The regular devotional exercises of school are all which you will _necessarily_ witness. These are very short, occupying much less time than many of the pupils think desirable. The rest is all private and voluntary. I never make any effort to urge any one to attend the Saturday meeting, nor do I, except in a few rare and peculiar cases, ever address any one personally, unless she desires to be so addressed. You will be left, therefore, in this school, unmolested, to choose your own way. If you should choose to neglect religious duty, and to wander away from God, I shall still do all in my power to make you happy in school, and to secure for you in future life such a measure of enjoyment as can fall to the share of one over whose prospects in another world there hangs so gloomy a cloud. I shall never reproach you, and perhaps may not even know what your choice is. Should you, on the other hand, prefer the peace and happiness of piety, and be willing to begin to walk in its paths, you will find many, both among the teachers and pupils of the Mount Vernon School, to sympathize with you, and to encourage and help you on your way. CHAPTER VII. SCHEMING. [Illustration] Some of the best teachers in our country, or, rather, of those who might be the best, lose a great deal of their time, and endanger, or perhaps entirely destroy, their hopes of success by a scheming spirit, which is always reaching forward to something new. One has in his mind some new school-book by which Arithmetic, Grammar, or Geography are to be taught with unexampled rapidity, and his own purse to be filled in a much more easy way than by waiting for the rewards of patient industry. Another has the plan of a school, bringing into operation new principles of management or instruction, which he is to establish on some favored spot, and which is to become, in a few years, a second Hofwyl. Another has some royal road to learning, and, though he is trammeled and held down by what he calls the ignorance and stupidity of his trustees or his school committee, yet, if he could fairly put his principles and methods to the test, he is certain of advancing the science of education half a century at least at a single leap. Ingenuity in devising new ways, and enterprise in following them, are among the happiest characteristics of a new country rapidly filling with a thriving population. Without these qualities there could be no advance; society must be stationary; and from a stationary to a retrograde condition, the progress is inevitable. The disposition to make improvements and changes may, however, be too great. If so, it must be checked. On the other hand, a slavish attachment to old established practices may prevail. Then the spirit of enterprise and experiment must be awakened and encouraged. Which of these two is to be the duty of a writer at any time will of course depend upon the situation of the community at the time when he writes, and of the class of readers for which he takes his pen. Now, at the present time, it is undoubtedly true, that while among the great mass of teachers there may be too little originality and enterprise, there is still among many a spirit of innovation and change to which a caution ought to be addressed. But, before I proceed, let me protect myself from misconception by one or two remarks. 1. There are a few individuals in various parts of our country who, by ingenuity and enterprise, have made real and important improvements in many departments of our science, and are still making them. The science is to be carried forward by such men. Let them not, therefore, understand that any thing which I shall say applies at all to those real improvements which are from time to time brought before the public. As examples of this, there might easily be mentioned, were it necessary, several new modes of study, and new text-books, and literary institutions on new plans, which have been brought forward within a few years, and have proved, on actual trial, to be of real and permanent value. These are, or rather they were, when first conceived by the original projectors, new schemes, and the result has proved that they were good ones. Every teacher, too, must hope that such improvements will continue to be made. Let nothing, therefore, which shall be said on the subject of scheming in this chapter be interpreted as intended to condemn real improvements of this kind, or to check those which may now be in progress by men of age or experience, or of sound judgment, who are capable of distinguishing between a real improvement and a whimsical innovation which can never live any longer than it is sustained by the enthusiasm of the original inventor. 2. There are a great many teachers in our country who make their business a mere dull and formal routine, through which they plod on, month after month, and year after year, without variety or change, and who are inclined to stigmatize with the appellation of idle scheming all plans, of whatever kind, to give variety or interest to the exercises of the school. Now whatever may be said in this chapter against unnecessary innovation and change does not apply to efforts to secure variety in the details of daily study, while the great leading objects are steadily pursued. This subject has already been discussed in the chapter on Instruction, where it has been shown that every wise teacher, while he pursues the same great object, and adopts in substance the same leading measures at all times, will exercise all the ingenuity he possesses, and bring all his inventive powers into requisition to give variety and interest to the minute details. To explain now what is meant by such scheming as is to be condemned, let us suppose a case which is riot very uncommon. A young man, while preparing for college, takes a school. When he first enters upon the duties of his office, he is diffident and timid, and walks cautiously in the steps which precedent has marked out for him. Distrusting himself, he seeks guidance in the example which others have set for him, and, very probably, he imitates precisely, though it may be insensibly and involuntarily, the manners and the plans of his own last teacher. This servitude soon, however, if he is a man of natural abilities, passes away; he learns to try one experiment after another, until he insensibly finds that a plan may succeed, even if it was not pursued by his former teacher. So far it is well. He throws greater interest into his school, and into all its exercises, by the spirit with which he conducts them. He is successful. After the period of his services has expired, he returns to the pursuit of his studies, encouraged by his success, and anticipating farther triumphs in his subsequent attempts. He goes on through college, we will suppose, teaching from time to time in the vacations, as opportunity occurs, taking more and more interest in the employment, and meeting with greater and greater success. This success is owing in a very great degree to the _freedom_ of his practice, that is, to his escape from the thraldom of imitation. So long as he leaves the great objects of the school untouched, and the great features of its organization unchanged, his many plans for accomplishing these objects in new and various ways awaken interest and spirit both in himself and in his scholars, and all goes on well. Now in such a case as this, a young teacher, philosophizing upon his success and the causes of it, will almost invariably make this mistake, namely, he will attribute to something essentially excellent in his plans the success which, in fact, results from the novelty of them. When he proposes something new to a class, they all take an interest in it because it is _new_. He takes, too, a special interest in it because it is an experiment which he is trying, and he feels a sort of pride and pleasure in securing its success. The new method which he adopts may not be, _in itself,_ in the least degree better than old methods, yet it may succeed vastly better in his hands than any old method he had tried before. And why? Why, because it is new. It awakens interest in his class, because it offers them variety; and it awakens interest in him, because it is a plan which he has devised, and for whose success, therefore, he feels that his credit is at stake. Either of these circumstances is abundantly sufficient to account for its success. Either of these would secure success, unless the plan was a very bad one indeed. This may easily be illustrated by supposing a particular case. The teacher has, we will imagine, been accustomed to teach spelling in the usual way, by assigning a lesson in the spelling-book, which the scholars, after studying it in their seats, recite by having the words put to them individually in the class. After some time, he finds that one class has lost its interest in this study. He can compel them to study the lesson, it is true, but he perceives, perhaps, that it is a weary task to them. Of course, they proceed with less alacrity, and consequently with less rapidity and success. He thinks, very justly, that it is highly desirable to secure cheerful, not forced, reluctant efforts from his pupils, and he thinks of trying some new plan. Accordingly, he says to them, "Boys, I am going to try a new plan for this class." The mere annunciation of a new plan awakens universal attention. The boys all look up, wondering what it is to be. "Instead of having you study your lessons in your seats, as heretofore, I am going to let you all go together into one corner of the room, and choose some one to read the lesson to you, spelling all the words aloud. You will all listen, and endeavor to remember how the difficult ones are spelled. Do you think you can remember?" "Yes, sir," say the boys. Children always think they _can_ do every thing which is proposed to them as a new plan or experiment, though they are very often inclined to think they _can not_ do what is required of them as a task. "You may have," continues the teacher, "the words read to you once or twice, just as you please. Only, if you have them read but once, you must take a shorter lesson." He pauses and looks round upon the class. Some say "Once," some "Twice." "I am willing that you should decide this question. How many are in favor of having shorter lessons, and having them read but once? How many prefer longer lessons, and having them read twice?" After comparing the numbers, it is decided according to the majority, and the teacher assigns or allows them to assign a lesson. "Now," he proceeds, "I am not only going to have you study in a different way, but recite in a different way too. You may take your slates with you, and after you have had time to hear the lesson read slowly and carefully twice, I shall come and dictate to you the words aloud, and you will all write them from my dictation. Then I shall examine your slates, and see how many mistakes are made." Any class of boys, now, would be exceedingly interested in such a proposal as this, especially if the master's ordinary principles of government and instruction had been such as to interest the pupils in the welfare of the school and in their own progress in study. They will come together in the place assigned, and listen to the one who is appointed to read the words to them, with every faculty aroused, and their whole souls engrossed in the new duties assigned them. The teacher, too, feels a special interest in his experiment. Whatever else he may be employed about, his eye turns instinctively to this group with an intensity of interest which an experienced teacher who has long been in the field, and who has tried experiments of this sort a hundred times, can scarcely conceive; for let it be remembered that I am describing the acts and feelings of a new beginner, of one who is commencing his work with a feeble and trembling step, and perhaps this is his first step away from the beaten path in which he has been accustomed to walk. This new plan is continued, we will suppose, for a week, during which time the interest of the pupils continues. They get longer lessons and make fewer mistakes than they did by the old method. Now, in speculating on this subject, the teacher reasons very justly that it is of no consequence whether the pupil receives his knowledge through the eye or through the ear; whether they study in solitude or in company. The point is to secure their progress in learning to spell the words of the English language, and as this point is secured far more rapidly and effectually by his new method, the inference is to his mind very obvious, that he has made a great improvement--one of real and permanent value. Perhaps he will consider it an extraordinary discovery. But the truth is, that in almost all such cases as this, the secret of the success is not that the teacher has discovered a _better_ method than the ordinary ones, but that he has discovered a _new_ one. The experiment will succeed in producing more successful results just as long as the novelty of it continues to excite unusual interest and attention in the class, or the thought that it is a plan of the teacher's own invention leads him to take a peculiar interest in it. And this may be a month, or perhaps a quarter; and precisely the same effects would have been produced if the whole had been reversed, that is, if the plan of dictation had been the old one, which in process of time had, in this supposed school, lost its interest, and the teacher, by his ingenuity and enterprise, had discovered and introduced what is now the common mode. "Very well," perhaps my reader will reply, "it is surely something gained to awaken and continue interest in a dull study for a quarter, or even a month. The experiment is worth something as a pleasant and useful change, even if it is not permanently superior to the other." It is indeed worth something. It is worth a great deal; and the teacher who can devise and execute such plans, _understanding their real place and value, and adhering steadily through them all to the great object which ought to engage his attention,_ is in the almost certain road to success as an instructor. What I wish is not to discourage such efforts; they ought to be encouraged to the utmost; but to have their real nature and design, and the real secret of their success fully understood, and to have the teacher, above all, take good care that all his new plans are made, not the substitutes for the great objects which he ought to keep steadily in view, but only the means by which he may carry them into more full and complete effect. In the case we are supposing, however, we will imagine that the teacher does not do this. He fancies that he has made an important discovery, and begins to inquire whether _the principle,_ as he calls it, can not be applied to some other studies. He goes to philosophizing upon it, and can find many reasons why knowledge received through the ear makes a more ready and lasting impression than when it comes through the eye. He attempts to apply the method to Arithmetic and Geography, and in a short time is forming plans for the complete metamorphosis of his school. When engaged in hearing a recitation, his mind is distracted with his schemes and plans, and instead of devoting his attention fully to the work he may have in hand, his thoughts are wandering continually to new schemes and fancied improvements, which agitate and perplex him, and which elude his efforts to give them a distinct and definite form. He thinks he must, however, carry out his _principle_. He thinks of its applicability to a thousand other cases. He revolves over and over again in his mind plans for changing the whole arrangement of his school. He is again and again lost in perplexity, his mind is engrossed and distracted, and his present duties are performed with no interest, and consequently with little spirit or success. Now his error is in allowing a new idea, which ought only to have suggested to him an agreeable change for a time in one of his classes, to swell itself into undue and exaggerated importance, and to draw off his mind from what ought to be the objects of his steady pursuit. Perhaps some teacher of steady intellectual habits and a well-balanced mind may think that this picture is fanciful, and that there is little danger that such consequences will ever actually result from such a cause. But, far from having exasperated the results. I am of opinion that I might have gone much farther. There is no doubt that a great many instances have occurred in which some simple idea like the one I have alluded to has led the unlucky conceiver of it, in his eager pursuit, far deeper into the difficulty than I have here supposed. He gets into a contention with the school committee, that formidable foe to the projects of all scheming teachers; and it would not be very difficult to find many actual cases where the individual has, in consequence of some such idea, quietly planned and taken measures to establish some new institution, where he can carry on unmolested his plans, and let the world see the full results of his wonderful discoveries. We have in our country a very complete system of literary institutions, so far as external organization will go, and the prospect of success is far more favorable in efforts to carry these institutions into more complete and prosperous operation, than in plans for changing them, or substituting others in their stead. Were it not that such a course would be unjust to individuals, a long and melancholy catalogue might easily be made out of abortive plans which have sprung up in the minds of young men in the manner I have described, and which, after perhaps temporary success, have resulted in partial or total failure. These failures are of every kind. Some are school-books on a new plan, which succeeds in the inventor's hand chiefly on account of the spirit which carried it into effect, but which in ordinary hands, and under ordinary circumstances, and especially after long-continued use, have failed of exhibiting any superiority. Others are institutions, commenced with great zeal by the projectors, and which prosper just as long as that zeal continues. Zeal will make any thing succeed for a time. Others are new plans of instruction or government, generally founded on some good principle carried to an extreme, or made to grow into exaggerated and disproportionate importance. Examples almost innumerable of these things might be particularized, if it were proper, and it would be found, upon examination, that the amount of ingenuity and labor wasted upon such attempts would have been sufficient, if properly expended, to have elevated very considerably the standard of education, and to have placed existing institutions in a far more prosperous and thriving state than they now exhibit. The reader will perhaps ask, Shall we make no efforts at improvement? Must every thing in education go on in a uniform and monotonous manner, and, while all else is advancing, shall our cause alone stand still? By no means. It must advance; but let it advance mainly by the industry and fidelity of those who are employed in it; by changes slowly and cautiously made; not by great efforts to reach forward to brilliant discoveries, which will draw off the attention from essential duties, and, after leading the projector through perplexities and difficulties without number, end in mortification and failure. Were I to give a few concise and summary directions in regard to this subject to a young teacher, they would be the following: 1. Examine thoroughly the system of public and private schools as now constituted in most of the states of this Union, until you fully understand it and appreciate its excellences and its completeness; see how fully it provides for the wants of the various classes of our population. By this I mean to refer only to the completeness of the _system_ as a system of organization. I do not refer at all to the internal management of these institutions; this last is, of course, a field for immediate and universal effort at progress and improvement. 2. If, after fully understanding this system as it now exists, you are of opinion that something more is necessary; if you think some classes of the community are not fully provided for, or that some of our institutions may be advantageously exchanged for others, the plan of which you have in mind, consider whether your age, and experience, and standing as an instructor are such as to enable you to place confidence in your opinion. I do not mean by this that a young man may not make a useful discovery, but only that he may be led away by the ardor of early life to fancy that essential and important which is really not so. It is important that each one should determine whether this is not the case with himself, if his mind is revolving some new plan. 3. Perhaps you are contemplating only a single new institution, which is to depend for its success on yourself and some coadjutors whom you have in mind and whom you well know. If this is the case, consider whether the establishment you are contemplating can be carried on, after you shall have left it, by such men as can ordinarily be obtained. If the plan is founded on some peculiar notions of your own, which would enable you to succeed in it when others, who might also be interested in such a scheme, would probably fail, consider whether there may not be danger that your plan may be imitated by others who can not carry it into successful operation, so that it may be the indirect means of doing injury. A man is, in some degree, responsible for his example and for the consequences which may indirectly flow from his course, as well as for the immediate results which he produces. The Fellenberg school at Hofwyl was perhaps, by its direct results, as successful for a time as any other institution in the world; but there is a great offset to the good which it has thus done to be found in the history of the thousand wretched imitations of it which have been started only to linger a little while and die, and in which a vast amount of time, and talent, and money have been wasted. [Illustration] 4. Consider the influence you may have upon the other institutions of our country, by attaching yourself to some one under the existing organization. If you take an academy or a private school, constituted and organized like other similar institutions, success in your own will give you influence over others. A successful teacher of an academy raises the general standard of academic instruction. A college professor, if he brings extraordinary talents to bear upon the regular duties of that office, throws light, universally, upon the whole science of college discipline and instruction, and thus aids in infusing a continually renewed life and vigor into those venerable seats of learning that might otherwise sink into decrepitude and decay. By going, however, to some new field, establishing some new and fanciful institution, you take yourself from such a sphere; you exert no influence over others, except upon feeble imitators, who fail in their attempts, and bring discredit upon your plans by the awkwardness with which they attempt to adopt them. How much more service, then, to the cause of education will a man of genius render, by falling in with the regularly organized institutions of the country and elevating them, than if in early life he were to devote his powers to some magnificent project of an establishment to which his talents would unquestionably have given temporary success, but which would have taken him away from the community of teachers, and confined the results of his labors to the more immediate effects which his daily duties might produce. 5. Perhaps, however, your plan is not the establishment of some new institution, but the introduction of some new study or pursuit into the one with which you are connected. Before, however, you interrupt the regular arrangements of your school to make such a change, consider carefully what is the real and appropriate object of your institution. Every thing is not to be done in school. The principles of division of labor apply with peculiar force to this employment; so that you must not only consider whether the branch which you are now disposed to introduce is important, but whether it is really such an one as it is on the whole best to include among the objects to be pursued in such an institution. Many teachers seem to imagine that if any thing is in itself important, and especially if it is an important branch of education, the question is settled of its being a proper object of attention in school. But this is very far from being the case. The whole work of education can never be intrusted to the teacher. Much must of course remain in the hands of the parent; it ought so to remain. The object of a school is not to take children out of the parental hands, substituting the watch and guardianship of a stranger for the natural care of father and mother. Far from it. It is only the association of the children for those purposes which can be more successfully accomplished by association. It is a union for few, specific, and limited objects, for the accomplishment of that part (and it is comparatively a small part of the general objects of education) which can be most successfully effected by public institutions and in assemblies of the young. 6. If the branch which you are desiring to introduce appears to you to be an important part of education, and if it seems to you that it can be most successfully attended to in schools, then consider whether the introduction of it, _and of all the other branches having equal claims_, will or will not give to the common schools too great a complexity. Consider whether it will succeed in the hands of ordinary teachers. Consider whether it will require so much time and effort as will draw off in any considerable degree, the attention of the teacher from the more essential parts of his duty. All will admit that it is highly important that every school should be simple in its plan--as simple as its size and general circumstances will permit, and especially that the public schools in every town and village of our country should never lose sight of what is and must be, after all, their great design--_teaching the whole population to ready write, and calculate._ 7. If it is a school-book which you are wishing to introduce, consider well before you waste your time in preparing it, and your spirits in the vexatious work of getting it through the press; whether it is, _for general use_, so superior to those already published as to induce teachers to make a change in favor of yours. I have italicized the words _for general use_, for no delusion is more common than for a teacher to suppose that because a text-book which he has prepared and uses in manuscript is better for _him_ than any other work which he can obtain, it will therefore be better for _general circulation_. Every man, if he has any originality of mind, has of course some peculiar method of his own, and he can of course prepare a text-book which will be better adapted to this method than those ordinarily in use. The history of a vast number of text-books, Arithmetics, Geographies, and Grammars, is this: A man of somewhat ingenious mind, adopts some peculiar mode of instruction in one of these branches, and is quite successful, not because the method has any very peculiar excellence, but simply because he takes a greater interest in it, both on account of its novelty and also from the fact that it is his own invention. He conceives the plan of writing a text-book to develop and illustrate this method. He hurries through the work. By some means or other he gets it printed. In due time it is regularly advertised. The journals of education give notice of it; the author sends a few copies to his friends, and that is the end of it. Perhaps a few schools may make a trial of it, and if, for any reason, the teachers who try it are interested in the work, probably in their hands it succeeds. But it does not succeed so well as to attract general attention, and consequently does not get into general circulation. The author loses his time and his patience. The publisher, unless, unfortunately, it was published on the author's account, loses his paper, and in a few months scarcely any body knows that such a book ever saw the light. It is in this way that the great multitude of school-books which are now constantly issuing from the press take their origin. Far be it from me to discourage the preparation of good school-books. This department of our literature offers a fine field for the efforts of learning and genius. What I contend against is the endless multiplicity of useless works, hastily conceived and carelessly executed, and which serve no purpose but to employ uselessly talents which, if properly applied, might greatly benefit both the community and the possessor. 8. If, however, after mature deliberation, you conclude that you have the plan of a school-book which you ought to try to mature and execute, be slow and cautious about it. Remember that so great is now the competition in this branch, nothing but superior excellence or very extraordinary exertions will secure the favorable reception of a work. Examine all that your predecessors have done before you. Obtain, whatever may be the trouble and expense, all other text-books on the subject, and examine them thoroughly. If you see that you can make a very decided advance on all that has been done, and that the public will probably submit to the inconvenience and expense of a change to secure the result of your labors, go forward slowly and carefully in your work, no matter how much investigation, how much time and labor it may require. The more difficulty you may find in gaining the eminence, the less likely will you be to be followed by successful competitors. 9. Consider, in forming your text-book, not merely the whole subject on which you are to write, but also look extensively and thoroughly at the institutions throughout the country, and consider carefully the character of the teachers by whom you expect it to be used. Sometimes a man publishes a text-book, and when it fails on trial, he says "it is because they did not know how to use it. The book in itself was good. The whole fault was in the awkwardness and ignorance of the teacher." How absurd! As if, to make a good text-book, it was not as necessary to adapt it to teachers as to scholars. A _good text-book, which the teachers for whom it was intended did not know how to use!!_ In other words, a good contrivance, but entirely unfit for the purpose for which it was intended. 10. Lastly, in every new plan, consider carefully whether its success in your hands, after you have tried it and found it successful, be owing to its novelty and to your own special interest in it, or to its own innate and intrinsic superiority. If the former, use it so long as it will last, simply to give variety and interest to your plans. Recommend it in conversation or in other ways to teachers with whom you are acquainted, not as a wonderful discovery, which is going to change the whole science of education, but as one method among others which may be introduced from time to time to relieve the monotony of the teacher's labors. In a word, do not go away from the established institutions of our country, or deviate from the great objects which are at present, and ought continually to be pursued by them, without great caution, circumspection, and deliberate inquiry. But, within these limits, exercise ingenuity and invention as much as you will. Pursue steadily the great objects which demand the teacher's attention. They are simple and few. Never lose sight of them, nor turn to the right or to the left to follow any ignis fatuus which may arise to allure you away, but exercise as much ingenuity and enterprise as you please in giving variety and interest to the modes by which these objects are pursued. If planning and scheming are confined within these limits, and conducted on these principles, the teacher will save all the agitating perplexity and care which will otherwise be his continual portion. He can go forward peaceably and quietly, and while his own success is greatly increased, he may be of essential service to the cause in which he is engaged, by making known his various experiments and plans to others. For this purpose, it seems to me highly desirable that every teacher should KEEP A JOURNAL of all his plans. In these should be carefully entered all his experiments; the new methods he adopts; the course he takes in regard to difficulties which may arise, and any interesting incidents which may occur which it would be useful for him to refer to at some future time. These, or the most interesting of them, should be made known to other teachers. This may be done in several ways: (1.) By publishing them in periodicals devoted to education. Such contributions, furnished by judicious men, would be among the most valuable articles in such a work. They would be far more valuable than any general speculations, however well conceived or expressed. (2.) In newspapers intended for general circulation. There are very few editors whose papers circulate in families who would not gladly receive articles of this kind to fill a teacher's department in their columns. If properly written, they would be read with interest and profit by multitudes of parents, and would throw much light on family government and instruction. (3.) By reading them in teachers' meetings. If half a dozen teachers who are associated in the same vicinity would meet once a fortnight, simply to hear each other's journals, they would be amply repaid for their time and labor. Teachers' meetings will be interesting and useful, when those who come forward in them will give up the prevailing practice of delivering orations, and come down at once to the scenes and to the business of the school-room. There is one topic connected with the subject of this chapter which deserves a few paragraphs. I refer to the rights of the committee, or the trustees, or patrons in the control of the school. The right to such control, when claimed at all, is usually claimed in reference to the teacher's new plans, which renders it proper to allude to the subject here; and it ought not to be omitted, for a great many cases occur in which teachers have difficulties with the trustees or committee of their school. Sometimes these difficulties result at last in an open rupture; at other times in only a slight and temporary misunderstanding, arising from what the teacher calls an unwise and unwarrantable interference on the part of the committee or the trustees in the arrangements of the school. Difficulties of some sort very often arise. In fact, a right understanding of this subject is, in most cases, absolutely essential to the harmony and co-operation of the teacher and the representatives of his patrons. There are then, it must be recollected, three different parties connected with every establishment for education: the parents of the scholars, the teacher, and the pupils themselves. Sometimes, as, for example, in a common private school, the parents are not organized, and whatever influence they exert they must exert in their individual capacity. At other times, as in a common district or town school, they are by law organized, and the school committee chosen for this purpose are their legal representatives. In other instances, a board of trustees are constituted by the appointment of the founders of the institution, or by the Legislature of a state, to whom is committed the oversight of its concerns, and who are consequently the representatives of the founders and patrons of the school. There are differences between these various modes of organization which I shall not now stop to examine, as it will be sufficiently correct for my purpose to consider them all as only various ways of organizing the _employers_ in the contract by which the teacher is employed. The teacher is the agent; the patrons represented in these several ways are the principals. When, therefore, in the following paragraphs I use the word _employers_, I mean to be understood to speak of the committee, or the trustees, or the visitors, or the parents themselves, as the case in each particular institution may be; that is, the persons for whose purpose and at whose expense the institution is maintained, or their representatives. Now there is a very reasonable and almost universally established rule, which teachers are very frequently prone to forget, namely, _the employed ought always to be responsible to the employers, and to be under their direction._ So obviously reasonable is this rule, and, in fact, so absolutely indispensable in the transaction of all the business of life, that it would be idle to attempt to establish and illustrate it here. It has, however, limitations, and it is applicable to a much greater extent, in some departments of human labor than in others. It is _applicable_ to the business of teaching, and though I confess that it is somewhat less absolute and imperious here, still it is obligatory, I believe, to a far greater extent than teachers have been generally willing to admit. A young lady, I will imagine, wishes to introduce the study of Botany into her school. The parents or the committee object; they say that they wish the children to confine their attention exclusively to the elementary branches of education. "It will do them no good," says the chairman of the committee, "to learn by heart some dozen or two of learned names. We want them to read well, to write well, and to calculate well, and not to waste their time in studying about pistils, and stamens, and nonsense." Now what is the duty of the teacher in such a case? Why, very plainly her duty is the same as that of the governor of a state, where the people, through their representatives, regularly chosen, negative a proposal which he considers calculated to promote the public good. It is his duty to submit to the public will; and, though he may properly do all in his power to present the subject to his employers in such a light as to lead them to regard it as he does, he must still, until they do so regard it, bow to their authority; and every magistrate who takes an enlarged and comprehensive view of his duties as the executive of a republican community, will do this without any humiliating feelings of submission to unauthorized interference with his plans. He will, on the other hand, enjoy the satisfaction of feeling that he confines himself to his proper sphere, and leave to others the full possession of rights which properly pertain to them. It is so with every case where the relation of employer and employed subsists. You engage a carpenter to erect a house for you, and you present your plan; instead of going to work and executing your orders according to your wishes, he falls to criticising and condemning it; he finds fault with this, and ridicules that, and tells you you ought to make such and such an alteration in it. It is perfectly right for him to give his opinion, in the tone and spirit of _recommendation or suggestion_, with a distinct understanding that with his employer rests the power and the right to decide. But how many teachers take possession of their school-room as though it was an empire in which they are supreme, who resist every interference of their employers as they would an attack upon their personal freedom, and who feel that in regard to every thing connected with school they have really no actual responsibility. In most cases, the employers, knowing how sensitive teachers very frequently are on this point, acquiesce in it, and leave them to themselves. Whenever, in any case, they think that the state of the school requires their interference, they come cautiously and fearfully to the teacher, as if they were encroaching upon his rights, instead of advancing with the confidence and directness with which employers have always a right to approach the employed; and the teacher, with the view he has insensibly taken of the subject, being perhaps confirmed by the tone and manner which his employers use, makes the conversation quite as often an occasion of resentment and offense as of improvement. He is silent, perhaps, but in his heart he accuses his committee or his trustees of improper interference in _his_ concerns, as though it was no part of _their_ business to look after work which is going forward for their advantage, and for which they pay. Perhaps some individuals who have had some collision with their trustees or committee will ask me if I mean that a teacher ought to be entirely and immediately under the supervision and control of the trustees, just as a mechanic is when employed by another man. By no means. There are various circumstances connected with the nature of this employment, such as the impossibility of the employers fully understanding it in all its details, and the character and the standing of the teacher himself, which always will, in matter of fact, prevent this. The employers always will, in a great many respects, place more confidence in the teacher and in his views than they will in their own. But still, the ultimate power is theirs. Even if they err, if they wish to have a course pursued which is manifestly inexpedient and wrong, _they still have a right to decide._ It is their work; it is going on at their instance and at their expense, and the power of ultimate decision on all disputed questions must, from the very nature of the case, rest with them. The teacher may, it is true, have his option either to comply with their wishes or to seek employment in another sphere; but while he remains in the employ of any persons, whether in teaching or in any other service, he is bound to yield to the wishes of his employers when they insist upon it, and to submit good-humoredly to their direction when they shall claim their undoubted right to direct. This is to be done, it must be remembered, when they are wrong as well as when they are right. The obligation of the teacher is not founded upon _the superior wisdom_ of his employers in reference to the business for which they have engaged him, for they are very probably his inferiors in this respect, but _upon their right as employers_ to determine _how their own work shall be done._ A gardener, we will suppose, is engaged by a gentleman to lay out his grounds. The gardener goes to work, and, after a few hours, the gentleman comes out to see how he goes on and to give directions. He proposes something which the gardener, who, to make the case stronger, we will suppose knows better than the proprietor of the grounds, considers ridiculous and absurd; nay, we will suppose _it is_ ridiculous and absurd. Now what can the gardener do? There are obviously two courses. He can say to the proprietor, after a vain attempt to convince him he is wrong, "Well, sir, I will do just as you say. The grounds are yours: I have no interest in it or responsibility, except to accomplish your wishes." This would be right. Or he might say, "Sir, you have a right to direct upon your own grounds, and I do not wish to interfere with your plans; but I must ask you to obtain another gardener. I have a reputation at stake, and this work, if I do it even at your direction, will be considered as a specimen of my taste and of my planning, so that I must, in justice to myself, decline remaining in your employment." This, too, would be right, though probably, both in the business of gardening and of teaching, the case ought to be a strong one to render it expedient. But it would not be right for him, after his employer should have gone away, to say to himself, with a feeling of resentment at the imaginary _interference_, "I shall not follow any such directions; I understand my own trade, and shall receive no instructions in it from him," and then, disobeying all directions, go on and do the work contrary to the orders of his employer, who alone has a right to decide. And yet a great many teachers take a course as absurd and unjustifiable as this would be. Whenever the parents, or the committee, or the trustees express, however mildly and properly, their wishes in regard to the manner in which they desire to have their own work performed, their pride is at once aroused. They seem to feel it an indignity to act in any other way than just in accordance with their own will and pleasure; and they absolutely refuse to comply, resenting the interference as an insult; or else, if they apparently yield, it is with mere cold civility, and entirely without any honest desire to carry the wishes thus expressed into actual effect. Parents may, indeed, often misjudge. A good teacher will, however, soon secure their confidence, and they may acquiesce in his opinion. But they ought to be watchful, and the teacher ought to feel and acknowledge their authority on all questions connected with the education of their children. They have originally entire power in regard to the course which is to be pursued with them. Providence has made the parents responsible, and wholly responsible, for the manner in which their children are prepared for the duties of this life, and it is interesting to observe how very cautious the laws of society are about interfering with the parent's wishes in regard to the education of the child. There are many cases in which enlightened governments might make arrangements which would be better than those made by the parents if they are left to themselves. But they will not do it; they ought not to do it. God has placed the responsibility in the hands of the father and mother, and unless the manner in which it is exercised is calculated to endanger or to injure the community, there can rightfully be no interference except that of argument and persuasion. It ought also to be considered that upon the parents will come the consequences of the good or bad education of their children, and not upon the teacher, and consequently it is right that they should direct. The teacher remains, perhaps, a few months with his charge, and then goes to other places, and perhaps hears of them no more. He has thus very little at stake. The parent has every thing at stake; and it is manifestly unjust to give one man the power of deciding, while he escapes all the consequences of his mistakes, if he makes any, and to take away all the _power_ from those upon whose heads all the suffering which will follow an abuse of the power must descend. CHAPTER VIII. REPORTS OF CASES. There is, perhaps, no way by which a writer can more effectually explain his views on the subject of education than by presenting a great variety of actual cases, whether real or imaginary, and describing particularly the course of treatment which he would recommend in each. This method of communicating knowledge is very extensively resorted to in the medical profession, where writers detail particular cases, and report the symptoms and the treatment for each succeeding day, so that the reader may almost fancy himself actually a visitor at the sick-bed, and the nature and effects of the various prescriptions become fixed in the mind with almost as much distinctness and permanency as actual experience would give. This principle has been kept in view, the reader may perhaps think, too closely in all the chapters of this volume, almost every point brought up having been illustrated by anecdotes and narratives. I propose, however, devoting one chapter now to presenting a number of miscellaneous cases, without any attempt to arrange them. Sometimes the case will be merely stated, the reader being left to draw the inference; at others, such remarks will be added as the case suggests. All will, however, be intended to answer some useful purpose, either to exhibit good or bad management and its consequences, or to bring to view some trait of human nature, as it exhibits itself in children, which it may be desirable for the teacher to know. Let it be understood, however, that these cases are not selected with reference to their being strange or extraordinary. They are rather chosen because they are common; that is, they, or cases similar, will be constantly occurring to the teacher, and reading such a chapter will be the best substitute for experience which the teacher can have. Some are descriptions of literary exercises or plans which the reader can adopt in classes or with a whole school; others are cases of discipline, good or bad management, which the teacher can imitate or avoid. The stories are from various sources, and are the results of the experience of several individuals. 1. HATS AND BONNETS.--The master of a district school was accidentally looking out of the window one day, and he saw one of the boys throwing stones at a hat, which was put up for that purpose upon the fence. He said nothing about it at the time, but made a memorandum of the occurrence, that he might bring it before the school at the proper time. When the hour set apart for attending to the general business of the school had arrived, and all were still, he said, "I saw one of the boys throwing stones at a hat to-day: did he do right or wrong?" There were one or two faint murmurs which sounded like "_Wrong_" but the boys generally made no answer. "Perhaps it depends a little upon the question whose hat it was. Do you think it does depend upon that?" "Yes, sir." "Well, suppose then it was not his own hat, and he was throwing stones at it without the owner's consent, would it be plain in that case whether he was doing right or wrong?" "Yes, sir; wrong," was the universal reply. "Suppose it was his own hat, would he have been right? Has a boy a right to do what he pleases with his own hat?" "Yes, sir," "Yes, sir;" "No, sir," "No, sir," answered the boys, confusedly. "I do not know whose hat it was. If the boy who did it is willing to rise and tell me, it will help us to decide this question." The boy, knowing that a severe punishment was not in such a case to be anticipated, and, in fact, apparently pleased with the idea of exonerating himself from the blame of willfully injuring the property of another, rose and said, "I suppose it was I, sir, who did it, and it was my own hat." "Well," said the master, "I am glad that you are willing to tell frankly how it was; but let us look at this case. There are two senses in which a hat may be said to belong to any person. It may belong to him because he bought it and paid for it, or it may belong to him because it fits him and he wears it. In other words, a person may have a hat as his property, or he may have it only as a part of his dress. Now you see that, according to the first of these senses, all the hats in this school belong to your fathers. There is not, in fact, a single boy in this school who has a hat of his own." The boys laughed. "Is not this the fact?" "Yes, sir." It certainly is so, though I suppose James did not consider it. Your fathers bought your hats. They worked for them and paid for them. You are only the wearers, and consequently every generous boy, and, in fact, every honest boy, will be careful of the property which is intrusted to him, but which, strictly speaking, is not his own. 2. MISTAKES.--A wide difference must always be made between mistakes arising from carelessness, and those resulting from circumstances beyond control, such as want of sufficient data, and the like. The former are always censurable; the latter never; for they may be the result of correct reasoning from insufficient data, and it is the reasoning only for which the child is responsible. "What do you suppose a prophet is?" said a teacher to a class of little boys. The word occurred in their reading lesson. The scholars all hesitated; at last one ventured to reply: "If a man should sell a yoke of oxen, and get more for them than they are worth, he would be a prophet." "Yes," said the instructor, "that is right; that is one kind of _profit_, but this is another and a little different," and he proceeded to explain the word, and the difference of the spelling. This child had, without doubt, heard of some transaction of the kind which he described, and had observed that the word _profit_ was applied to it. Now the care which he had exercised in attending to it at the time, and remembering it when the same word (for the difference in the spelling he of course knew nothing about) occurred again, was really commendable. The fact, which is a mere accident, that we affix very different significations to the same sound, was unknown to him. The fault, if any where, was in the language and not in him, for he reasoned correctly from the data he possessed, and he deserved credit for it. The teacher should always discriminate carefully between errors of this kind, and those that result from culpable carelessness. 3. TARDINESS.--"My duty to this school," said a teacher to his pupils, "demands, as I suppose you all admit, that I should require you all to be here punctually at the time appointed for the commencement of the school. I have done nothing on this subject yet, for I wished to see whether you would not come early on principle. I wish now, however, to inquire in regard to this subject, and to ascertain how many have been tardy, and to consider what must be done hereafter." He made the inquiries, and ascertained pretty nearly how many had been tardy, and how often within a week. The number was found to be so great that the scholars admitted that something ought to be done. "What shall I do?" asked he. "Can any one propose a plan which will remedy the difficulty?" There was no answer. "The easiest and pleasantest way to secure punctuality is for the scholars to come early of their own accord, upon principle. It is evident, from the reports, that many of you do so, but some do not. Now there is no other plan which will not be attended with very serious difficulty, but I am willing to adopt the one which will be most agreeable to yourselves, if it will be likely to accomplish the object. Has any one any plan to propose?" There was a pause. "It would evidently," continued the teacher, "be the easiest for me to leave this subject, and do nothing about it. It is of no personal consequence to me whether you come early or not, but as long as I hold this office I must be faithful, and I have no doubt the school committee, if they knew how many of you were tardy, would think I ought to do something to diminish the evil. "The best plan that I can think of is that all who are tardy should lose their recess." The boys looked rather anxiously at one another, but continued silent. "There is a great objection to this plan from the fact that a boy is sometimes necessarily absent, and by this rule he will lose his recess with the rest, so that the innocent will be punished with the guilty." "I should think, sir," said William, "that those who are _necessarily_ tardy might be excused." "Yes, I should be very glad to excuse them, if I could find out who they are." The boys seemed to be surprised at this remark, as if they thought it would not be a difficult matter to decide. "How can I tell?" asked the master. "You can hear their excuses, and then decide." "Yes," said the teacher: "but here are fifteen or twenty boys tardy this morning; now how long would it take me to hear their excuses, and understand each case thoroughly, so that I could really tell whether they were tardy from good reasons or not?" No answer. "Should you not think it would take a minute apiece?" "Yes, sir." "It would, undoubtedly, and even then I could not in many cases tell. It would take fifteen minutes, at least. I can not do this in school hours, for I have not time, and if I do it in recess it will consume the whole of every recess. Now I need the _rest_ of a recess as well as you, and it does not seem to me to be just that I should lose the whole of mine every day, and spend it in a most unpleasant business, when I take pains myself to come punctually every morning. Would it be just?" "No, sir." "I think it would be less unjust to deprive all those of their recess who are tardy; for then the loss of a recess by a boy who had not been to blame would not be very common, and the evil would be divided among the whole; but in the plan of my hearing the excuses it would all come upon one." After a short pause one of the boys said that they might be required to bring written excuses. "Yes, that is another plan," said the teacher; "but there are objections to it. Can any of you think what they are? I suppose you have all been, either at this school or at some other, required to bring written excuses, so that you have seen the plan tried. Now have you never noticed any objection to it?" One boy said that it gave the parents a great deal of trouble at home. "Yes," said the teacher, "this is a great objection; it is often very inconvenient to write. But that is not the greatest difficulty; can any of you think of any other?" There was a pause. "Do you think that these written excuses are, after all, a fair test of the real reasons for tardiness? I understand that sometimes boys will tease their fathers or mothers for an excuse when they do not deserve it, 'Yes, sir,' and sometimes they will loiter about when sent of an errand before school, knowing that they can get a written excuse, when they might easily have been punctual." "Yes, sir," "Yes, sir," said the boys. "Well, now, if we adopt this plan, some unprincipled boy would always contrive to have an excuse, whether necessarily tardy or not; and, besides, each parent would have a different principle and a different opinion as to what was a reasonable excuse, so that there would be no uniformity, and, consequently, no justice in the operation of the system." The boys admitted the truth of this, and, as no other plan was presented, the rule was adopted of requiring all those who were tardy to remain in their seats during the recess, whether they were necessarily tardy or not. The plan very soon diminished the number of loiterers. 4. HELEN'S LESSON.--The possibility of being inflexibly firm in measures, and, at the same time, gentle and mild in manners and language, is happily illustrated in the following description, which is based on an incident narrated by Mrs. Sherwood: "Mrs. M. had observed, even during the few days that Helen had been under her care, that she was totally unaccustomed to habits of diligence and application. After making all due allowance for long-indulged habits of indolence and inattention, she one morning assigned an easy lesson to her pupil, informing her at the same time that she should hear it immediately before dinner. Helen made no objections to the plan, but she silently resolved not to perform the required task. Being in some measure a stranger, she thought her aunt would not insist upon perfect obedience, and besides, in her estimation, she was too old to be treated like a child. "During the whole morning Helen exerted herself to be mild and obliging; her conduct toward her aunt was uncommonly affectionate. By these and various other artifices she endeavored to gain her first victory. Meanwhile Mrs. M. quietly pursued her various avocations, without apparently noticing Helen's conduct. At length dinner-hour arrived; the lesson was called for, but Helen was unprepared. Mrs. M. told Helen she was sorry that she had not learned the lesson, and concluded by saying that she hoped she would be prepared before tea-time. "Helen, finding she was not to come to the table, began to be a little alarmed. She was acquainted in some measure with the character of her aunt, still she hoped to be allowed to partake of the dessert, as she had been accustomed to on similar occasions at home, and soon regained her wonted composure. But the dinner-cloth was removed, and there sat Helen, suffering not a little from hunger; still she would not complain; she meant to convince her aunt that she was not moved by trifles. "A walk had been proposed for the afternoon, and as the hour drew near, Helen made preparations to accompany the party. Mrs. M. reminded her of her lesson, but she just noticed the remark by a toss of the head, and was soon in the green fields, apparently the gayest of the gay. After her return from the excursion she complained of a head-ache, which in fact she had. She threw herself languidly on the sofa, sighed deeply, and took up her History. "Tea was now on the table, and most tempting looked the white loaf. Mrs. M. again heard the pupil recite, but was sorry to find the lesson still imperfectly prepared. She left her, saying she thought half an hour's additional study would conquer all the difficulties she found in the lesson. "During all this time Mrs. M. appeared so perfectly calm, composed, and even kind, and so regardless of sighs and doleful exclamations, that Helen entirely lost her equanimity, and let her tears flow freely and abundantly. Her mother was always moved by her tears, and would not her aunt relent? No. Mrs. M. quietly performed the duties of the table, and ordered the tea-equipage to be removed. This latter movement brought Helen to reflection. It is useless to resist, thought she; indeed, why should I wish to? Nothing too much has been required of me. How ridiculous I have made myself appear in the eyes of my aunt, and even of the domestics! "In less than an hour she had the satisfaction of reciting her lesson perfectly; her aunt made no comments on the occasion, but assigned her the next lesson, and went on sewing. Helen did not expect this; she had anticipated a refreshing cup of tea after the long siege. She had expected that even something nicer than usual would be necessary to compensate her for her past sufferings. At length, worn out by long-continued watching and fasting, she went to the closet, provided herself with a cracker, and retired to bed to muse deliberately on the strange character of her aunt. "Teachers not unfrequently threaten their pupils with some proper punishment, but, when obliged to put the threat into execution, contrive in some indirect way to abate its rigor, and thus destroy all its effects. For example, a mother was in the habit, when her little boy ran beyond his prescribed play-ground, of putting him into solitary confinement. On such occasions, she was very careful to have some amusing book or diverting plaything in a conspicuous part of the room, and not unfrequently a piece of gingerbread was given to solace the runaway. The mother thought it very strange her little boy should so often transgress, when he knew what to expect from such a course of conduct. The boy was wiser than the mother; he knew perfectly well how to manage the business. He could play with the boys beyond the garden gate, and if detected, to be sure he was obliged to spend a quiet hour in the pleasant parlor. But this was not intolerable as long as he could expect a paper of sugar-plums, a cake, or at least something amply to compensate him for the loss of a game at marbles." 5. COMPLAINTS or LONG LESSONS.--A college officer assigned lessons which the idle and ignorant members of the class thought too long. They murmured for a time, and at last openly complained. The other members of the class could say nothing in behalf of the professor, awed by the greatest of all fears to a collegian, the fear of being called a "_fisher_" or a "_blueskin_" The professor paid no attention to the petitions and complaints which were poured in upon him, and which, though originated by the idle, all were compelled to vote for. He coldly, and with uncompromising dignity, went on; the excitement in the class increased, and what is called a college rebellion, with all its disastrous consequences to the infatuated rebels, ensued. Another professor had the dexterity to manage the case in a different way. After hearing that there was dissatisfaction, he brought up the subject as follows: "I understand, gentlemen, that you consider your lessons too long. Perhaps I have overrated the abilities of the class, but I have not intended to assign you more than you can accomplish. I feel no other interest in the subject than the pride and pleasure it would give me to have my class stand high, in respect to the amount of ground it has gone over, when you come to examination. I propose, therefore, that you appoint a committee, in whose abilities and judgment you can confide, and let them examine this subject and report. They might ascertain how much other classes have done, and how much is expedient for this class to attempt; and then, by estimating the number of recitations assigned to this study, they can easily determine what should be the length of the lessons." The plan was adopted, and the report put an end to the difficulty. 6. ENGLISH COMPOSITION.--The great prevailing fault of writers in this country is an affectation of eloquence. It is almost universally the fashion to aim, not at striking thoughts, simply and clearly expressed, but at splendid language, glowing imagery, and magnificent periods. It arises, perhaps, from the fact that public speaking is the almost universal object of ambition, and, consequently, both at school and at college, nothing is thought of but oratory. Vain attempts at oratory result, in nine cases out of ten, in grandiloquence and empty verbiage--common thoughts expressed in pompous periods. The teacher should guard against this, and assign to children such subjects as are within the field of childish observation. A little skill on his part will soon determine the question which kind of writing shall prevail in his school. The following specimens, both written with some skill, will illustrate the two kinds of writing alluded to. Both were written by pupils of the same age, twelve; one a boy, the other a girl. The subjects were assigned by the teacher. I need not say that the following was the writer's first attempt at composition, and that it is printed without alteration. THE PAINS OF A SAILOR'S LIFE. The joyful sailor embarks on board of his ship, the sails are spread to catch the playful gale, swift as an arrow he cuts the rolling wave. A few days thus sporting on the briny wave, when suddenly the sky is overspread with clouds, the rain descends in torrents, the sails are lowered, the gale begins, the vessel is carried with great velocity, and the shrouds, unable to support the tottering mast, gives way to the furious tempest; the vessel is drove among the rocks, is sprung aleak; the sailor works at the pumps till, faint and weary, is heard from below, six feet of water in the hold; the boats are got ready, but, before they are into them, the vessel is dashed against a reef of rocks; some, in despair, throw themselves into the sea; others get on the rocks without any clothes or provisions, and linger a few days, perhaps weeks or months, living on shell fish, or perhaps taken up by some ship; others get on pieces of the wreck, and perhaps be cast on some foreign country, where perhaps he may be taken by the natives, and sold into slavery where he never more returns. In regard to the following specimen, it should be stated that when the subject was assigned, the pupil was directed to see how precisely she could imitate the language and conversation which two little children really lost in the woods would use. While writing, therefore, her mind was in pursuit of the natural and the simple, not of the eloquent. TWO CHILDREN LOST IN THE WOODS. _Emily_. Look here! see how many berries I've got. I don't believe you've got so many. _Charles_. Yes, I'm sure I have. My basket's almost full; and if we hurry, we shall get ever so many before we go home. So pick away as fast as you can, Emily. _Emily_. There, mine is full. Now we'll go and find some flowers for mother. You know somebody told us there were some red ones close to that rock. _Charles_. Well, so we will. We'll leave our baskets here, and come back and get them. _Emily_. But if we can't find our way back, what shall we do? _Charles_. Poh! I can find the way back. I only want a quarter to seven years old, and I sha'n't lose myself, I know. _Emily_. Well, we've got flowers enough, and now I'm tired and want to go home. _Charles. I_ don't; but, if you are tired, we'll go and find our baskets. _Emily_. Where do you think they are? We've been looking a great while for them. I know we are lost, for when we went after the flowers we only turned once, and coming back we have turned three times. _Charles_. Have we? Well, never mind, I guess we shall find them. _Emily_. I'm afraid we sha'n't. Do let's run. _Charles_. Well, so do. Oh, Emily! here's a brook, and I am sure we didn't pass any brook going. _Emily_. Oh dear! we must be lost. Hark! Charles, didn't you hear that dreadful noise just now? Wasn't it a bear? _Charles_. Poh! I should love to see a bear here. I guess, if he should come near me, I would give him one good slap that would make him feel pretty bad. I could kill him at the first hit. _Emily_. I should like to see you taking hold of a bear. Why, didn't you know bears were stronger than men? But only see how dark it grows; we sha'n't see ma to-night, I'm afraid. _Charles_. So am I: do let's run some more. _Emily_. Oh, Charles, do you believe we shall ever find the way out of this dreadful long wood? _Charles_. Let's scream, and see if somebody won't come. _Emily_. Well (screaming), ma! ma! _Charles_ (screaming also). Pa! pa! _Emily_. Oh dear! there's the sun setting. It will be dreadfully dark by-and-by, won't it? We have given enough for a specimen. The composition, though faulty in many respects, illustrates the point we had in view. 7. Insincere Confession.--An assistant in a school informed the principal that she had some difficulty in preserving order in a certain class composed of small children. The principal accordingly went into the class, and something like the following dialogue ensued: "Your teacher informs me," said the principal, "that there is not perfect order in the class. Now if you are satisfied that there has not been order, and wish to help me discover and correct the fault, we can do it very easily. If, on the other hand, you do not wish to co-operate with me, it will be a little more difficult for me to correct it, and I must take a different course. Now I wish to know, at the outset, whether you do or do not wish to help me?" A faint "Yes, sir," was murmured through the class. "I do not wish you to assist me unless you really and honestly desire it yourselves; and if you undertake to do it, you must do it honestly. The first thing which will be necessary will be an open and thorough exposure of all which has been wrong, and this, you know, will be unpleasant. But I will put the question to vote by asking how many are willing that I should know, entirely and fully, all that they have done in this class that has been wrong?" Very nearly all the hands were raised at once, promptly, and the others were gradually brought up, though with more or less of hesitation. "Are you willing not only to tell me yourselves what you have done, but also, in case any one has forgotten something which she has done, that others should tell me of it?" The hands were all raised. After obtaining thus from the class a distinct and universal expression of willingness that all the facts should be made known, the principal called upon all those who had any thing to state to raise their hands, and those who raised them had opportunity to say what they wished. A great number of very trifling incidents were mentioned, such as could not have produced any difficulty in the class, and, consequently, could not have been the real instances of disorder alluded to. Or at least it was evident, if they were, that in the statement they must have been so palliated and softened that a really honest confession had not been made. This result might, in such a case, have been expected. Such is human nature, that in nine cases out of ten, unless such a result had been particularly guarded against, it would have inevitably followed. Not only will such a result follow in individual cases like this, but, unless the teacher watches and guards against it, it will grow into a habit. I mean, boys will get a sort of an idea that it is a fine thing to confess their faults, and by a show of humility and frankness will deceive their teacher, and perhaps themselves, by a sort of acknowledgment, which in fact exposes nothing of the guilt which the transgressor professes to expose. A great many cases occur where teachers are pleased with the confession of faults, and scholars perceive it, and the latter get into the habit of coming to the teacher when they have done something which they think may get them into difficulty, and make a sort of half confession, which, by bringing forward every palliating circumstance, and suppressing every thing of different character, keeps entirely out of view all the real guilt of the transgression. The criminal is praised by the teacher for the frankness and honesty of the confession, and his fault is freely forgiven. He goes away, therefore, well satisfied with himself, when, in fact, he has been only submitting to a little mortification, voluntarily, to avoid the danger of a greater; much in the same spirit with that which leads a man to receive the small-pox by inoculation, to avoid the danger of taking it in the natural way. The teacher who accustoms his pupils to confess their faults voluntarily ought to guard carefully against this danger. When such a case as the one just described occurs, it will afford a favorable opportunity of showing distinctly to pupils the difference between an honest and a hypocritical confession. In this instance the teacher proceeded thus: "Now there is one more question which I wish you all to answer by your votes honestly. It is this. Do you think that the real disorder which has been in this class--that is, the real cases which you referred to when you stated to me that you thought that the class was not in good order--have been now really exposed, so that I honestly and fully understand the case? How many suppose so?" Not a single hand was raised. "How many of you think, and are willing to avow your opinion, that I have _not_ been fully informed of the case?" A large proportion held up their hands. "Now it seems the class pretended to be willing that I should know all the affair. You pretended to be willing to tell me the whole, but when I call upon you for the information, instead of telling me honestly, you attempt to amuse me by little trifles, which in reality made no disturbance, and you omit the things which you know were the real objects of my inquiries. Am I right in my supposition?" They were silent. After a moment's pause, one perhaps raised her hand, and began now to confess something which she had before concealed. The teacher, however, interrupted her by saying, "I do not wish to have the confession made now. I gave you all time to do that, and now I should rather not hear any more about the disorder. I gave an opportunity to have it acknowledged, but it was not honestly improved, and now I should rather not hear. I shall probably never know. "I wished to see whether this class would be honest--really honest, or whether they would have the insincerity to pretend to be confessing when they were not doing so honestly, so as to get the credit of being frank and sincere, when in reality they are not so. Now am I not compelled to conclude that this latter is the case?" Such an example will make a deep and lasting impression. It will show that the teacher is upon his guard; and there are very few so hardened in deception that they would not wish that they had been really sincere rather than rest under such an imputation. 8. Court.--A pupil, quite young (says a teacher), came to me one day with a complaint that one of her companions had got her seat. There had been some changes in the seats by my permission, and probably, from some inconsistency in the promises which I had made, there were two claimants for the same desk. The complainant came to me, and appealed to my recollection of the circumstance. "I do not recollect any thing about it," said I. "Why, Mr. B.!" replied she, with astonishment. "No," said I; "you forget that I have, every day, arrangements, almost without number, of such a kind to make, and as soon as I have made one I immediately forget all about it." "Why, don't you remember that you got me a new baize?" "No; I ordered a dozen new baizes at that time, but I do not remember who they were for." There was a pause; the disappointed complainant seemed not to know what to do. "I will tell you what to do. Bring the case into court, and I will try it regularly." "Why, Mr. B., I do not like to do any thing like that about it; besides, I do not know how to write an indictment." "Oh," I answered, "the scholars will like to have a good trial, and this will make a new sort of case. All our cases thus far have been for _offenses_--that is what they call criminal cases--and this will be only an examination of the conflicting claims of two individuals to the same property, and it will excite a good deal of interest. I think you had better bring it into court." She went slowly and thoughtfully to her seat, and presently returned with an indictment. "Mr. B., is this right?" It was as follows: I accuse Miss A.B. of coming to take away my seat--the one Mr. B. gave me. Witnesses, { C.D. { E.T. "Why--yes--that will do; and yet it is not exactly right. You see this is what they call a _civil_ case." "I don't think it is very _civil_." "No, I don't mean it was civil to take your seat, but this is not a case where a person is prosecuted for having done any thing wrong." The plaintiff looked a little perplexed, as if she could not understand how it could be otherwise than wrong for a girl to usurp her seat. "I mean, you do not bring it into court as a case of wrong. You do not want her to be punished, do you?" "No, I only want her to give me up my seat; I don't want her to be punished." "Well, then, you see that, although she may have done wrong to take your seat, it is not in that point of view that you bring it into court. It is a question about the right of property, and the lawyers call such cases _civil_ cases, to distinguish them from cases where persons are tried for the purpose of being punished for doing wrong. These last are called criminal cases." The aggrieved party still looked perplexed. "Well, Mr. B.," she continued, "what shall I do? How shall I write it? I can not say any thing about _civil_ in it, can I?" A form was given her which would be proper for the purpose, and the case was brought forward, and the evidence on both sides examined. The irritation of the quarrel was soon dissipated in the amusement of a semi-serious trial, and both parties good-humoredly acquiesced in the decision. 9. TEACHERS' PERSONAL CHARACTER.--Much has been said within a few years, by writers on the subject of education in this country, on the desirableness of raising the business of teaching to the rank of a learned profession. There is but one way of doing this, and that is raising the personal characters and attainments of the teachers themselves. Whether an employment is elevated or otherwise in public estimation, depends altogether on the associations, connected with it in the public mind, and these depend altogether on the characters of the individuals who are engaged in it. Franklin, by the simple fact that he was a printer himself, has done more toward giving dignity and respectability to the employment of printing, than a hundred orations on the intrinsic excellence of the art. In fact, all mechanical employments have, within a few years, risen in rank in this country, not through the influence of efforts to impress the community directly with a sense of their importance, but simply because mechanics themselves have risen in intellectual and moral character. In the same manner, the employment of the teacher will be raised most effectually in the estimation of the public, not by the individual who writes the most eloquent oration on the intrinsic dignity of the art, but by the one who goes forward most successfully in the exercise of it, and who, by his general attainments and public character, stands out most fully to the view of the public as a well-informed, liberal-minded, and useful man. If this is so--and it can not well be denied--it furnishes to every teacher a strong motive to exertion for the improvement of his own personal character. But there is a stronger motive still in the results which flow directly to himself from such efforts. No man ought to engage in any business which, as mere business, will engross all his time and attention. The Creator has bestowed upon every one a mind, upon the cultivation of which our rank among intelligent beings, our happiness, our moral and intellectual power, every thing valuable to us, depend; and after all the cultivation which we can bestow, in this life, upon this mysterious principle, it will still be in embryo. The progress which it is capable of making is entirely indefinite. If by ten years of cultivation we can secure a certain degree of knowledge and power, by ten more we can double, or more than double it, and every succeeding year of effort is attended with equal success. There is no point of attainment where we must stop, or beyond which effort will bring in a less valuable return. Look at that teacher, and consider for a moment his condition. He began to teach when he was twenty years of age, and now he is forty. Between the ages of fifteen and twenty he made a vigorous effort to acquire such an education as would fit him for these duties. He succeeded, and by these efforts he raised himself from being a mere laborer, receiving for his daily toil a mere daily subsistence, to the respectability and the comforts of an intellectual pursuit. But this change once produced, he stops short in his progress. Once seated in his desk, he is satisfied, and for twenty years he has been going through the same routine, without any effort to advance or to improve. He does not reflect that the same efforts, which so essentially altered his condition and prospects at twenty, would have carried him forward to higher and higher sources of influence and enjoyment as long as he should continue them. His efforts ceased when he obtained a situation as teacher at fifty dollars a month, and, though twenty years have glided away, he is now exactly what he was then. There is probably no employment whatever which affords so favorable an opportunity for personal improvement--for steady intellectual and moral progress, as that of teaching. There are two reasons for this: First, there is time for it. With an ordinary degree of health and strength, the mind can be vigorously employed at least ten hours a day. As much as this is required of students in many literary institutions. In fact, ten hours to study, seven to sleep, and seven to food, exercise, and recreation, is perhaps as good an arrangement as can be made; at any rate, very few persons will suppose that such a plan allows too little under the latter head. Now six hours is as much as is expected of a teacher under ordinary circumstances, and it is as much as ought ever to be bestowed; for, though he may labor four hours out of school in some new field, his health and spirits will soon sink under the burden, if, after his weary labors during the day in school, he gives up his evenings to the same perplexities and cares. And it is not necessary. No one who knows any thing of the nature of the human mind, and who will reflect a moment on the subject, can doubt that a man can make a better school by expending six hours labor upon it with alacrity and ardor, than he can by driving himself on to ten. Every teacher, therefore, who is commencing his work, should begin with the firm determination of devoting only six hours daily to the pursuit. Make as good a school, and accomplish as much for it as you can in six hours, and let the rest go. When you come from your school-room at night, leave all your perplexities and cares behind you. No matter what unfinished business or unsettled difficulties remain, dismiss them till another sun shall rise, and the hour of duty for another day shall come. Carry no school-work home with you, and do not even talk of your school-work at home. You will then get refreshment and rest. Your mind, during the evening, will be in a different world from that in which you have moved during the day. At first this will be difficult. It will be hard for you, unless your mind is uncommonly well disciplined, to dismiss all your cares; and you will think, each evening, that some peculiar emergency demands your attention _just at that time,_ and that as soon as you have passed the crisis you will confine yourself to what you admit are generally reasonable limits; but if you once allow school, with its perplexities and cares, to get possession of the rest of the day, it will keep possession. It will intrude itself into all your waking thoughts, and trouble you in your dreams. You will lose all command of your powers, and, besides cutting off from yourself all hope of general intellectual progress, you will, in fact, destroy your success as a teacher. Exhaustion, weariness, and anxiety will be your continual portion, and in such a state no business can be successfully prosecuted. There need be no fear that employers will be dissatisfied if the teacher acts upon this principle. If he is faithful, and enters with all his heart into the discharge of his duties during six hours, there will be something in the ardor, and alacrity, and spirit with which his duties will be performed which parents and scholars will both be very glad to receive in exchange for the languid, and dull, and heartless toil in which the other method must sooner or later result. * * * * * If the teacher, then, will confine himself to such a portion of time as is, in fact, all he can advantageously employ, there will be much left which can be devoted to his own private employment--more than is usual in the other avocations of life. In most of these other avocations there is not the same necessity for limiting the hours which a man may devote to his business. A merchant, for example, may be employed nearly all the day at his counting-room, and so may a mechanic. A physician may spend all his waking hours in visiting patients, and feel little more than healthy fatigue. The reason is, that in all these employments, and, in fact, in most of the employments of life, there is so much to diversify, so many little incidents constantly occurring to animate and relieve, and so much bodily exercise, which alternates with and suspends the fatigues of the mind, that the labors may be much longer continued, and with less cessation, and yet the health not suffer. But the teacher, while engaged in his work, has his mind continually on the stretch. There is little relief, little respite, and he is almost entirely deprived of bodily exercise. He must, consequently, limit his hours of attending to his business, or his health will soon sink under labors which Providence never intended the human mind to bear. There is another circumstance which facilitates the progress of the teacher. It is a fact that all this general progress has a direct and immediate bearing upon his pursuits. A lawyer may read in an evening an interesting book of travels, and find nothing to help him with his case, the next day, in court; but almost every fact which the teacher thus learns will come _at once into use_ in some of his recitations at school. We do not mean to imply by this that the members of the legal profession have not need of a great variety and extent of knowledge; they doubtless have. It is simply in the _directness_ and _certainty_ with which the teacher's knowledge may be applied to his purpose that the business of teaching has the advantage over every other pursuit. This fact, now, has a very important influence in encouraging and leading forward the teacher to make constant intellectual progress, for every step brings at once a direct reward. 10. THE CHESTNUT BURR.--_A story for school-boys._--One fine Saturday afternoon, in the fall of the year, the master was taking a walk in the woods, and he came to a place where a number of boys were gathering chestnuts. One of the boys was sitting upon a bank trying to open some chestnut burrs which he had knocked off from the tree. The burrs were green, and he was attempting to open them by pounding them with a stone. [Illustration] He was a very impatient boy, and was scolding in a loud, angry, tone against the burrs. He did not see, he said, what in the world chestnuts were made to grow so for. They ought to grow right out in the open air, like apples, and not have such vile porcupine skins on them, just to plague the boys. So saying, he struck with all his might a fine large burr, crushed it to pieces, and then jumped up, using at the same time profane and wicked words. As soon as he turned round he saw the master standing very near him. He felt very much ashamed and afraid, and hung down his head. "Roger," said the master (for this boy's name was Roger), "can you get me a chestnut burr?" Roger looked up for a moment to see whether the master was in earnest, and then began to look around for a burr. A boy who was standing near the tree, with a red cap full of burrs in his hand, held out one of them. Roger took the burr and handed it to the master, who quietly put it into his pocket, and walked away without saying a word. As soon as he was gone, the boy with the red cap said to Roger, "I expected that the master would have given you a good scolding for talking so." "The master never scolds," said another boy, who was sitting on a log pretty near, with a green satchel in his hand, "but you see if he does not remember it." Roger looked as if he did not know what to think about it. "I wish," said he, "I knew what he is going to do with that burr." That afternoon, when the lessons had been all recited, and it was about time to dismiss the school, the boys put away their books, and the master read a few verses in the Bible, and then offered a prayer, in which he asked God to forgive all the sins which any of them had committed that day, and to take care of them during the night. After this he asked the boys all to sit down. He then took his handkerchief out of his pocket and laid it on the desk, and afterward he put his hand into his pocket again, and took out the chestnut burr, and all the boys looked at it. "Boys," said he, "do you know what this is?" One of the boys in the back seat said, in a half whisper, "It is nothing but a chestnut burr." "Lucy," said the master to a bright-eyed little girl near him, "what is this?" "It is a chestnut burr, sir," said she. "Do you know what it is for?" "I suppose there are chestnuts in it." "But what is this rough, prickly covering for?" Lucy did not know. "Does any body here know?" said the master. One of the boys said that he supposed it was to hold the chestnuts together, and keep them up on the tree. "But I heard a boy say," replied the master, "that they ought not to be made to grow so. The nut itself, he thought, ought to hang alone on the branches, without any prickly covering, just as apples do." "But the nuts themselves have no stems to be fastened by," answered the same boy. "That is true; but I suppose this boy thought that God could have made them grow with stems, and that this would have been better than to have them in burrs." After a little pause the master said that he would explain TO them what the chestnut burr was for, and wished them all to listen attentively. "How much of the chestnut is good to eat, William?" asked he, looking at a boy before him. "Only the meat." "How long does it take the meat to grow?" "All summer, I suppose, it is growing." "Yes; it begins early in the summer, and gradually swells and grows until it has become of full size, and is ripe, in the fall. Now suppose there was a tree out here near the school-house, and the chestnut meats should grow upon it without any shell or covering; suppose, too, that they should taste like good ripe chestnuts at first, when they were very small. Do you think they would be safe?" William said "No; the boys would pick and eat them before they had time to grow." "Well, what harm would there be in that? Would it not be as well to have the chestnuts early in the summer as to have them in the fall?" William hesitated. Another boy who sat next to him said, "There would not be so much meat in the chestnuts if they were eaten before they had time to grow." "Right," said the master; "but would not the boys know this, and so all agree to let the little chestnuts stay, and not eat them while they were small?" William said he thought they would not. If the chestnuts were good, he was afraid they would pick them off and eat them if they were small. All the rest of the boys in the school thought so too. "Here, then," said the master, "is one reason for having prickles around the chestnuts when they are small. But then it is not necessary to have all chestnuts guarded from boys in this way; a great many of the trees are in the woods, which the boys do not see; what good do the burrs do in these trees?" The boys hesitated. Presently the boy who had the green satchel under the tree with Roger, who was sitting in one corner of the room, said, "I should think they would keep the squirrels from eating them. "And besides," continued he, after thinking a moment, "I should suppose, if the meat of the chestnut had no covering, the rain would wet it and make it rot, or the sun might dry and wither it." "Yes," said the master, "these are very good reasons why the nut should be carefully guarded. First the meats are packed away in a hard brown shell, which the water can not get through; this keeps it dry, and away from dust and other things which might injure it. Then several nuts thus protected grow closely together inside this green, prickly covering, which spreads over them and guards them from the larger animals and the boys. Where the chestnut gets its full growth and is ripe, this covering, you know, splits open, and the nuts drop out, and then any body can get them and eat them." The boys were then all satisfied that it was better that chestnuts should grow in burrs. "But why," asked one of the boys, "do not apples grow so?" "Can any body answer that question?" asked the master. The boy with the green satchel said that apples had a smooth, tight skin, which kept out the wet, but he did not see how they were guarded from animals. The master said it was by their taste. "They are hard and sour before they are full grown, and so the taste is not pleasant, and nobody wishes to eat them, except sometimes a few foolish boys, and these are punished by being made sick. When the apples are full grown, they change from sour to sweet, and become mellow--then they can be eaten. Can you tell me of any other fruits which are preserved in this way?" One boy answered, "Strawberries and blackberries;" and another said, "Peaches and pears." Another boy asked why the peach-stone was not outside the peach, so as to keep it from being eaten; but the master said that he would explain this another time. Then he dismissed the scholars, after asking Roger to wait until the rest had gone, as he wished to see him alone. Several of the articles which follow were communicated for this work by different teachers, at the request of the author. 11. THE SERIES OF WRITING LESSONS.--Very many pupils soon become weary of the dull and monotonous business of writing, unless some plans are devised to give interest and variety to the exercise; and, on this account, this branch of education, in which improvement may be most rapid, is often the last and most tedious to be acquired. A teacher, by adopting the following plan, succeeded in awakening a great degree of interest on the subject, and, consequently, of promoting rapid improvement. The plan was this: he prepared, on a large sheet of paper, a series of lessons in coarse-hand, beginning with straight lines, and proceeding to the elementary parts of the various letters, and finally to the letters themselves. This paper was posted up in a part of the room accessible to all. The writing-books were made of three sheets of foolscap paper, folded into a convenient size, making twenty-four pages in the book. The books were to be ruled by the pupil, for it was thought important that each should learn this art. Every pupil in school, then, being furnished with one of these writing-books, was required to commence this series, and to practice each lesson until he could write it well; then, and not till then, he was permitted to pass to the next. A few brief directions were given under each lesson on the large sheet. For example, under the line of straight marks, which constituted the first lesson, was written as follows: _Straight, equidistant, parallel, smooth, well-terminated._ These directions were to call the attention of the pupil to the excellences which he must aim at, and when he supposed he had secured them, his book was to be presented to the teacher for examination. If approved, the word _Passed_, or, afterward, simply _P_., was written under the line, and he could then proceed to the next lesson. Other requisites were necessary, besides the correct formation of the letters, to enable one to pass; for example, the page must not be soiled or blotted, no paper must be wasted, and, in no case, a leaf torn out. As soon as _one line_ was written in the manner required, the scholar was allowed to pass. In a majority of cases, however, not less than a page would be practiced, and in many instances a sheet would be covered, before one line could be produced which would be approved. One peculiar excellency of this method was, that although the whole school were working under a regular and systematic plan, individuals could go on independently; that is, the progress of no scholar was retarded by that of his companion; the one more advanced might easily pass the earlier lessons in a few days, while the others would require weeks of practice to acquire the same degree of skill. During the writing-hour the scholars would practice each at the lesson where he left off before, and at a particular time each day the books were brought from the regular place of deposit and laid before the teacher for examination. Without some arrangement for an examination of all the books together, the teacher would be liable to interruption at any time from individual questions and requests, which would consume much time, and benefit only a few. When a page of writing could not pass, a brief remark, calling the attention of the pupil to the faults which prevented it, was sometimes made in pencil at the bottom of the page. In other cases, the fault was of such a character as to require full and minute oral directions to the pupil. At last, to facilitate the criticism of the writing, a set of arbitrary marks, indicative of the various faults, was devised and applied, as occasion might require, to the writing-books, by means of red ink. These marks, which were very simple in their character, were easily remembered, for there was generally some connection between the sign and the thing signified. For example, the mark denoting that letters were too short was simply lengthening them in red ink; a faulty curve was denoted by making a new curve over the old one, &c. The following are the principal criticisms and directions for which marks were contrived: Strokes rough. Too tall or too short. Curve wrong. Stems not straight. Bad termination Careless work. Too slanting, and the reverse. Paper wasted. Too broad, and the reverse. Almost well enough to pass. Not parallel. Bring your book to the teacher. Form of the letter bad. Former fault not corrected. Large stroke made too fine, and the reverse. A catalogue of these marks, with an explanation, was made out and placed where it was accessible to all, and by means of them the books could be very easily and rapidly, but thoroughly criticised. After the plan had gone on for some time, and its operation was fully understood, the teacher gave up the business of examining the books into the hands of a committee, appointed by him from among the older and more advanced pupils. That the committee might be unbiased in their judgment, they were required to examine and decide upon the books without knowing the names of the writers. Each scholar was, indeed, required to place her name on the right hand upper corner of every page of her writing-book, for the convenience of the distributors; but this corner was turned down when the book was brought in, that it might not be seen by the committee. This committee was invested with plenary powers, and there was no appeal from their decision. In case they exercised their authority in an improper way, or failed on any account to give satisfaction, they were liable to impeachment, but while they continued in office they were to be strictly obeyed. This plan went on successfully for three months, and with very little diminution of interest. The whole school went regularly through the lessons in coarse-hand, and afterward through a similar series in fine-hand, and improvement in this branch was thought to be greater than at any former period in the same length of time. The same principle of arranging the several steps of an art or a study into a series of lessons, and requiring the pupil to pass regularly from one to the other, might easily be applied to other studies, and would afford an agreeable variety. 12. THE CORRESPONDENCE.--A master of a district school was walking through the room with a large rule in his hands, and as he came up behind two small boys, he observed that they were playing with some papers. He struck them once or twice, though not very severely, on the head with the rule which he had in his hand. Tears started from the eyes of one. They were called forth by a mingled feeling of grief, mortification, and pain. The other, who was of "sterner stuff," looked steadily into the master's face, and when his back was turned, shook his fist at him and laughed in defiance. Another teacher, seeing a similar case, did nothing. The boys, when they saw him, hastily gathered up their playthings and put them away. An hour or two after, a little boy, who sat near the master, brought them a note addressed to them both. They opened it, and read as follows: "To EDWARD AND JOHN,--I observed, when I passed you to-day, from your concerned looks, and your hurried manner of putting something into your desk, that you were doing something that you knew was wrong. When you attempt to do any thing whatever which conscience tells you is wrong, you only make yourself uneasy and anxious while you do it, and then you are forced to resort to concealment and deception when you see me coming. You would be a great deal happier if you would always be doing your duty, and then you would never be afraid. Your affectionate teacher,----." As the teacher was arranging his papers in his desk at the close of school, he found a small piece of paper neatly folded up in the form of a note, and addressed to him. He read as follows: "DEAR TEACHER,--We are very much obliged to you for writing us a note. We were making a paper box. We know it was wrong, and are determined not to do so any more. We hope you will forgive us. "Your pupils, EDWARD, JOHN." Which of these teachers understood human nature best? 13. WEEKLY REPORTS.--The plan described by the following article, which was furnished by a teacher for insertion here, was originally adopted, so far as I know, in a school on the Kennebec. I have adopted it with great advantage. A teacher had one day been speaking to her scholars of certain cases of slight disorder in the school, which, she remarked, had been gradually creeping in, and which, as she thought, it devolved upon the scholars, by systematic efforts, to repress. She enumerated instances of disorder in the arrangement of the rooms, leaving the benches out of their places, throwing waste papers upon the floor, having the desk in disorder inside, spilling water upon the entry floor, irregular deportment, such as too loud talking or laughing in recess, or in the intermission at noon, or when coming to school, and making unnecessary noise in going to or returning from recitations. "I have a plan to propose," said the teacher, "which I think may be the pleasantest way of promoting a reform in things of this kind. It is this. Let several of your number be chosen a committee to prepare statedly--perhaps as often as once a week--a written report of the state of the school. The report might be read before the school at the close of each week. The committee might consist, in the whole, of seven or eight, or even of eleven or twelve individuals, who should take the whole business into their hands. This committee might appoint individuals of their number to write in turn each week. By this arrangement, it would not be known to the school generally who are the writers of any particular report, if the individuals wish to be anonymous. Two individuals might be appointed at the beginning of the week, who should feel it their business to observe particularly the course of things from day to day with reference to the report. Individuals not members of the committee can render assistance by any suggestions they may present to this committee. These should, however, generally be made in writing. "Subjects for such a report will be found to suggest themselves very abundantly, though you may not perhaps think so at first. The committee may be empowered not only to state the particulars in which things are going wrong, but the methods by which they may be made right. Let them present us with any suggestions they please. If we do not like them, we are not obliged to adopt them. For instance, it is generally the case, whenever a recitation is attended in the corner yonder, that an end of one of the benches is put against the door, so as to occasion a serious interruption to the exercises when a person wishes to come in or go out. It would come within the province of the committee to attend to such a case as this, that is, to bring it up in the report. The remedy in such a case is a very simple one. Suppose, however, that instead of the _simple_ remedy, our committee should propose that the classes reciting in the said corner should be dissolved and the studies abolished? We should know the proposal was an absurd one, but then it would do no hurt; we should have only to reject it. "Again, besides our faults, let our committee notice the respects in which we are doing particularly well, that we may be encouraged to go on doing well, or even to do better. If they think, for example, that we are deserving of credit for the neatness with which books are kept--for their freedom from blots, or scribblings, or dog's-ears, by which school-books are so commonly defaced, let them tell us so. And the same of any other excellence." With the plan as thus presented, the scholars were very much pleased. It was proposed by one individual that such a committee should be appointed immediately, and a report prepared for the ensuing week. This was done. The committee were chosen by ballot. The following may be taken as a specimen of their reports: WEEKLY REPORT. "The Committee appointed to write the weekly report have noticed several things which they think wrong. In the first place, there have been a greater number of tardy scholars during the past week than usual. Much of this tardiness, we suppose, is owing to the interest felt in building the bower; but we think this business ought to be attended to only in play-hours. If only one or two come in late when we are reading in the morning, or after we have composed ourselves to study at the close of the recess, every scholar must look up from her book--we do not say they ought to do so, but only that they will do so. However, we anticipate an improvement in this respect, as we know 'a word to the wise is sufficient.' "In the two back rows we are sorry to say that we have noticed whispering. We know that this fact will very much distress our teacher, as she expects assistance, and not trouble, from our older scholars. It is not our business to reprove any one's misconduct, but it is our duty to mention it, however disagreeable it may be. We think the younger scholars, during the past week, have much improved in this respect. Only three cases of whispering among them have occurred to our knowledge. "We remember some remarks made a few weeks ago by our teacher on the practice of prompting each other in the classes. We wish she would repeat them, for we fear that, by some, they are forgotten. In the class in Geography, particularly in the questions on the map, we have noticed sly whispers, which, we suppose, were the hints of some kind friend designed to refresh the memory of her less attentive companion. We propose that the following question be now put to vote. Shall the practice of prompting in the classes be any longer continued? "We would propose that we have a composition exercise _this_ week similar to the one on Thursday last. It was very interesting, and we think all would be willing to try their thinking powers once more. We would propose, also, that the readers of the compositions should sit near the centre of the room, as last week many fine sentences escaped the ears of those seated in the remote corners. "We were requested by a very public-spirited individual to mention once more the want of three nails, for bonnets, in the entry. Also, to say that the air from the broken pane of glass on the east side of the room is very unpleasant to those who sit near. "Proposed that the girls who exhibited so much taste and ingenuity in the arrangement of the festoons of evergreen, and tumblers of flowers around the teacher's desk, be now requested to remove the faded roses and drooping violets. We have gazed on these sad emblems long enough. "Finally, proposed that greater care be taken by those who stay at noon to place their dinner-baskets in proper places. The contents of more than one were partly strewed upon the entry floor this morning." If such a measure as this is adopted, it should not be continued uninterrupted for a very long time. Every thing of this sort should be occasionally changed, or it sooner or later becomes only a form. 14. THE SHOPPING EXERCISE.--I have often, when going a shopping, found difficulty and trouble in making change. I could never calculate very readily, and in the hurry and perplexity of the moment I was always making mistakes. I have heard others often make the same complaint, and I resolved to try the experiment of regularly teaching children to make change. I had a bright little class in Arithmetic, the members of which were always ready to engage with interest in any thing new, and to them I proposed my plan. It was to be called the Shopping Exercise. I first requested each individual to write something upon her slate which she would like to buy, if she was going a shopping, stating the quantity she wished and the price of it. To make the first lesson as simple as possible, I requested no one to go above ten, either in the quantity or price. When all were ready, I called upon some to read what she had written. Her next neighbor was then requested to tell us how much the purchase would amount to. Then the first one named a bill, which she supposed to be offered in payment, and the second showed what change was needed. A short specimen of the exercise will probably make it clearer than mere description. _Mary_. Eight ounces of candy at seven cents. _Susan_. Fifty-six cents. _Mary_. One dollar. _Susan_. Forty-four cents. * * * * * _Susan_. Nine yards of lace at eight cents. _Anna_. Seventy-two cents. _Susan_. Two dollars. _Anna_. One dollar and twenty-eight cents. * * * * * _Anna_. Three pieces of tape at five cents. _Jane_. Fifteen cents. _Anna_. Three dollars. _Jane_. Eighty-five cents. _Several voices_. Wrong. _Jane_. Two dollars and eighty-five cents. * * * * * _Jane_. Six pictures at eight cents. _Sarah_. Forty-two cents. _Several voices_. Wrong. _Sarah_. Forty-eight cents. _Jane_. One dollar. _Sarah_. Sixty-two cents. _Several voices_. Wrong. _Sarah_. Fifty-two cents. * * * * * It will be perceived that the same individual who names the article and the price names also the bill which she would give in payment; and the one who sits next her, who calculated the amount, calculated also the change to be returned. She then proposed _her_ example to the one next in the line, with whom the same course was pursued, and thus it passed down the class. The exercise went on for some time in this way, till the pupils had become so familiar with it that I thought it best to allow them to take higher numbers. They were always interested in it, and made great improvement in a short time, and I myself derived great advantage from listening to them. There is one more circumstance I will add which may contribute to the interest of this account. While the class were confined, in what they purchased, to the number ten, they were sometimes inclined to turn the exercise into a frolic. The variety of articles which they could find costing less than ten cents was so small, that, for the sake of getting something new, they would propose examples really ludicrous, such as these: three meeting-houses at two cents; four pianos at nine cents. But I soon found that if I allowed this at all, their attention was diverted from the main object, and occupied in seeking the most diverting and curious examples. 15. ARTIFICES IN RECITATIONS.--The teacher of a small newly-established school had all of his scholars classed together in some of their studies. At recitations he usually sat in the middle of the room, while the scholars occupied the usual places at their desks, which were arranged around the sides. In the recitation in Rhetoric, the teacher, after a time, observed that one or two of the class seldom answered appropriately the questions which came to them, but yet were always ready with some kind of answer--generally an exact quotation of the words of the book. Upon noticing these individuals more particularly, he was convinced that their books were open before them in some concealed situation. Another practice not uncommon in the class was that of _prompting_ each other, either by whispers or writing. The teacher took no notice publicly of these practices for some time, until, at the close of an uncommonly good recitation, he remarked, "I think we have had a fine recitation to-day. It is one of the most agreeable things that I ever do to hear a lesson that is learned as well as this. Do you think it would be possible for us to have as good an exercise every day?" "Yes, sir," answered several, faintly. "Do you think it would be reasonable for me to expect of every member of the class that she should always be able to recite all her lessons without ever missing a single question?" "No, sir," answered all. "I do not expect it," said the teacher. "All I wish is that each of you should be faithful in your efforts to prepare your lessons. I wish you to study from a sense of duty, and for the sake of your own improvement. You know I do not punish you for failures. I have no going up or down, no system of marking. Your only reward, when you have made faithful preparation for a recitation, is the feeling of satisfaction which you will always experience; and when you have been negligent, your only punishment is a sort of uneasy feeling of self-reproach. I do not expect you all to be invariably prepared with every question of your lessons. Sometimes you will be unavoidably prevented from studying them, and at other times, when you have studied them very carefully, you may have forgotten, or you may fail from some misapprehension of the meaning in some cases. Do not, in such a case, feel troubled because you may not have appeared as well as some individual who has not been half as faithful as yourself. If you have done your duty, that is enough. On the other hand, you ought to feel no better satisfied with yourselves when your lesson has not been studied well, because you may have happened to know the parts which came to you. Have I _done_ well? should always be the question, not, Have I managed to _appear_ well? "I will say a word here," continued the teacher, "upon a practice which I have known to be very common in some schools, and which I have been sorry to notice occasionally in this. I mean that of prompting, or helping each other along in some way at recitations. Now where a severe punishment is the consequence of a failure, there might seem to be some reasonableness in helping your companions out of difficulty, though even then such tricks are departures from honorable dealing. But, especially where there is no purpose to be served but that of appearing to know more than you do, it certainly must be considered a very mean kind of artifice. I think I have sometimes observed an individual to be prompted where evidently the assistance was not desired, and even where it was not needed. To whisper to an individual the answer to a question is sometimes to pay her rather a poor compliment at least, for it is the same as saying 'I am a better scholar than you are; let me help you along a little.' "Let us then, hereafter, have only fair, open, honest dealings with each other; no attempts to appear to advantage by little artful manoeuvring; no prompting; no peeping into books. Be faithful and conscientious, and then banish anxiety for your success. Do you not think you will find this the best course?" "Yes, sir," answered every scholar. "Are you willing to pledge yourselves to adopt it?" "Yes, sir." "Those who are may raise their hands," said the teacher. Every hand was raised; and the pledge, there was evidence to believe, was honorably sustained. 16. KEEPING RESOLUTIONS.--The following are notes of a familiar lecture on this subject, given by a teacher at some general exercise in the school. The practice of thus reducing to writing what the teacher may say on such subjects will be attended with excellent effects. This is a subject upon which young persons find much difficulty. The question is asked a thousand times, "How shall I ever learn to keep my resolutions?" Perhaps the great cause of your failures is this. You are not sufficiently _definite_ in forming your purposes. You will resolve to do a thing without knowing with certainty whether it is even possible to do it. Again, you make resolutions which are to run on indefinitely, so that, of course, they can never be fully kept. For instance, one of you will resolve to _rise earlier in the morning._ You fix upon no definite hour, on any definite number of mornings, only you are going to "_rise earlier_." Morning comes, and finds you sleepy and disinclined to rise. You remember your resolution of rising earlier. "But then it is _very_ early," you say. You resolved to rise earlier, but you didn't resolve to rise just then. And this, it may be, is the last of your resolution. Or perhaps you are, for a few mornings, a little earlier; but then, at the end of a week or fortnight, you do not know exactly whether your resolution has been broken or kept, for you had not decided whether to rise earlier for ten days or for ten years. In the same vague and general manner, a person will resolve to be _more studious_ or more diligent. In the case of an individual of a mature and well-disciplined mind, of acquired firmness of character, such a resolution might have effect. The individual will really devote more time and attention to his pursuits. But for one of you to make such a resolution would do no sort of good. It would only be a source of trouble and disquiet. You perceive there is nothing definite--nothing fixed about it. You have not decided what amount of additional time or attention to give to your studies, or when you will begin, or when you will end. There is no one time when you will feel that you are breaking your resolution, because there were no particular times when you were to study more. You waste one opportunity and another, and then, with a feeling of discouragement and self-reproach, conclude to abandon your resolution. "Oh! It does no good to make resolutions," you say; "I never shall keep them." Now, if you would have the business of making resolutions a pleasant and interesting instead of a discouraging, disquieting one, you must proceed in a different manner. Be definite and distinct in your plan; decide exactly what you will do, and how you will do it--when you will begin, and when you will end. Instead of resolving to "rise earlier," resolve to rise at the ringing of the sunrise bells, or at some other definite time. Resolve to try this, as an experiment, for one morning, or for one week, or fortnight. Decide positively, if you decide at all, and then rise when the time comes, sleepy or not sleepy. Do not stop to repent of your resolution, or to consider the wisdom or folly of it, when the time for acting under it has once arrived. In all cases, little and great, make this a principle--to consider well before you begin to act, but after you have begun to act, never stop to consider. Resolve as deliberately as you please, but be sure to keep your resolution, whether a wise one or an unwise one, after it is once made. Never allow yourself to reconsider the question of getting up, after the morning has come, except it be for some unforeseen circumstance. Get up for that time, and be more careful how you make resolutions again. 17. TOPICS.--The plan of the Topic Exercise, as we called it, is this. Six or seven topics are given out, information upon which is to be obtained from any source, and communicated verbally before the whole school, or sometimes before a class formed for this purpose the next day. The subjects are proposed both by teacher and scholars, and if approved, adopted. The exercise is intended to be voluntary, but ought to be managed in a way sufficiently interesting to induce all to join. At the commencement of the exercise the teacher calls upon all who have any information in regard to the topic assigned--suppose, for example, it is _Alabaster_--to rise. Perhaps twenty individuals out of forty rise. The teacher may perhaps say to those in their seats, "Do you not know any thing of this subject? Have you neither seen nor heard of alabaster, and had no means of ascertaining any thing in regard to it? If you have, you ought to rise. It is not necessary that you should state a fact altogether new and unheard-of, but if you tell me its color, or some of the uses to which it is applied, you will be complying with my request." After these remarks, perhaps a few more rise, and possibly the whole school. Individuals are then called upon at random, each to state only one particular in regard to the topic in question. This arrangement is made so as to give all an opportunity to speak. If any scholar, after having mentioned one fact, has something still farther to communicate, she remains standing till called upon again. As soon as an individual has exhausted her stock of information, or if the facts that she intended to mention are stated by another, she takes her seat. The topics at first most usually selected are the common objects by which we are surrounded--for example, glass, iron, mahogany, and the like. The list will gradually extend itself, until it will embrace a large number of subjects. The object of this exercise is to induce pupils to seek for general information in an easy and pleasant manner, as by the perusal of books, newspapers, periodicals, and conversation with friends. It induces care and attention in reading, and discrimination in selecting the most useful and important facts from the mass of information. As individuals are called upon, also, to express their ideas _verbally_, they soon acquire by practice the power of expressing them with clearness and force, and communicating with ease and confidence the knowledge they possess. 18. Music.--The girls of our school often amused themselves in recess by collecting into little groups for singing. As there seemed to be a sufficient power of voice, and a respectable number who were willing to join in the performance, it was proposed one day that singing should be introduced as a part of the devotional exercises of the school. The first attempt nearly resulted in a failure; only a few trembling voices succeeded in singing Old Hundred to the words "Be thou," etc. On the second day Peterborough was sung with much greater confidence on the part of the increased number of singers. The experiment was tried with greater and greater success for several days, when the teacher proposed that a systematic plan should be formed, by which there might be singing regularly at the close of school. It was then proposed that a number of singing-books be obtained, and one of the scholars, who was well acquainted with common tunes, be appointed as chorister. Her duty should be to decide what particular tune may be sung each day, inform the teacher of the metre of the hymn, and take the lead in the exercise. This plan, being approved of by the scholars, was adopted, and put into immediate execution. Several brought copies of the Sabbath School Hymn-Book, which they had in their possession, and the plan succeeded beyond all expectation. The greatest difficulty in the way was to get some one to lead. The chorister, however, was somewhat relieved from the embarrassment which she would naturally feel in making a beginning by the appointment of one or two individuals with herself, who were to act as her assistants. These constituted the _leading_ committee, or, as it was afterward termed, _Singing Committee_. Singing now became a regular and interesting exercise of the school, and the committee succeeded in managing the business themselves. 19. TABU.--An article was one day read in a school relating to the "Tabu" of the Sandwich Islanders. Tabu is a term with them which signifies consecrated--not to be touched--to be let alone--not to be violated. Thus, according to their religious observances, a certain day will be proclaimed _Tabu_; that is, one upon which there is to be no work or no going out. A few days after this article was read, the scholars observed one morning a flower stuck up in a conspicuous place against the wall, with the word TABU in large characters above it. This excited considerable curiosity. The teacher informed them, in explanation, that the flower was a very rare and beautiful specimen, brought by one of the scholars, which he wished all to examine. "You would naturally feel a disposition to examine it by the touch," said he, "but you will all see that, by the time it was touched by sixty individuals, it would be likely to be injured, if not destroyed. So I concluded to label it _Tabu_. And it has occurred to me that this will be a convenient mode of apprising you generally that any article must not be handled. You know we sometimes have some apparatus exposed, which would be liable to injury from disturbance, where there are so many persons to touch it. I shall, in such a case, just mention that an article is Tabu, and you will understand that it is not only not to be _injured_, but not even _touched_." A little delicate management of this sort will often have more influence over young persons than the most vehement scolding, or the most watchful and jealous precautions. The Tabu was always most scrupulously regarded, after this, whenever employed. 20. MENTAL ANALYSIS.--Scene, a class in Arithmetic at recitation. The teacher gives them an example in addition, requesting them, when they have performed it, to rise. Some finish it very soon, others are very slow in accomplishing the work. "I should like to ascertain," says the teacher, "how great is the difference of rapidity with which different members of the class work in addition. I will give you another example, and then notice by my watch the shortest and longest time required to do it." The result of the experiment was that some members of the class were two or three times as long in doing it as others. "Perhaps you think," said the teacher, "that this difference is altogether owing to difference of skill; but it is not. It is mainly owing to the different methods adopted by various individuals. I am going to describe some of these, and, as I describe them, I wish you would notice them carefully, and tell me which you practice." There are, then, three modes of adding up a column of figures, which I shall describe. 1. I shall call the first _counting_. You take the first figure, and then add the next to it by counting up regularly. There are three distinct ways of doing this. (a.) "Counting by your fingers." ("Yes, sir.") "You take the first figure--suppose it is seven--and the one above it, eight. Now you recollect that to add eight, you must count all the fingers of one hand, and all but two again. So you say 'seven--eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.'" "Yes, sir, yes, sir," said the scholars. (b.) The next mode of counting is to do it mentally, without using your fingers at all; but, as it is necessary for you to have some plan to secure your adding the right number, you divide the units into sets of two each. Thus you remember that eight consists of four twos, and you accordingly say, when adding eight to seven, 'Seven; eight, nine; ten, eleven; twelve, thirteen,' &c. (c.) "The third mode is to add by threes in the same way. You recollect that eight consists of two threes and a two; so you say, 'Seven; eight, nine, ten; eleven, twelve, thirteen; fourteen, fifteen.'" The teacher here stops to ascertain how many of the class are accustomed to add in either of these modes. It is a majority. 2. The next general method is _calculating_; that is, you do not unite one number to another by the dull and tedious method of applying the units, one by one, as in the ways described under the preceding head, but you come to a result more rapidly by some mode of calculating. These modes are several. (a.) "Doubling a number, and then adding or subtracting, as the case may require. For instance, in the example already specified, in order to add seven and eight, you say, 'Twice seven are fourteen, and one are fifteen'" ("Yes, sir, yes, sir"); "or, 'Twice eight are sixteen, and taking one off leaves fifteen." ("Yes, sir.") (b.) Another way of calculating is to skip about the column, adding those numbers which you can combine most easily, and then bringing in the rest as you best can. Thus, if you see three eights in one column, you say, 'Three times eight are twenty-four,' and then you try to bring in the other numbers. Often, in such cases, you forget what you have added and what you have not, and get confused ("Yes, sir"), or you omit something in your work, and consequently it is incorrect. (c.) If nines occur, you sometimes add ten, and then take off one, for it is very easy to add ten. (d.) Another method of calculating, which is, however, not very common, is this: to take our old case, adding eight to seven, you take as much from the eight to add to the seven as will be sufficient to make ten, and then it will be easy to add the rest. Thus you think in a minute that three from the eight will make the seven a ten, and then there will be five more to add, which will make fifteen. If the next number was seven, you would say five of it will make twenty, and then there will be two left, which will make twenty-two.' This mode, though it may seem more intricate than any of the others, is, in fact, more rapid than any of them, when one is a little accustomed to it. "These are the four principal modes of calculating which occur to me. Pupils do not generally practice any of them exclusively, but occasionally resort to each, according to the circumstances of the particular case." The teacher here stopped to inquire how many of the class were accustomed to add by calculating in either of these ways or in any simpler ways. 3. "There is one more mode which I shall describe: it is by _memory_. Before I explain this mode, I wish to ask you some questions, which I should like to have you answer as quick as you can. "How much is four times five? Four _and_ five? "How much is seven times nine? Seven _and_ nine? "Eight times six? Eight _and_ six? "Nine times seven? Nine _and_ seven?" After asking a few questions of this kind, it was perceived that the pupils could tell much more readily what was the result when the numbers were to be multiplied than when they were to be added. "The reason is," said the teacher, "because you committed the multiplication table to memory, and have not committed the addition table. Now many persons have committed the addition table, so that it is perfectly familiar to them, and when they see any two numbers, the amount which is produced when they are added together comes to mind in an instant. Adding in this way is the last of the three modes I was to describe. "Now of these three methods the last is undoubtedly the best. If you once commit the addition table thoroughly, you have it fixed for life; whereas if you do not, you have to make the calculation over again every time, and thus lose a vast amount of labor. I have no doubt that there are some in this class who are in the habit of _counting_, who have ascertained that seven and eight, for instance, make fifteen, by counting up from seven to fifteen _hundreds of times_. Now how much better it would be to spend a little time in fixing the fact in the mind once for all, and then, when you come to the case, seven and eight are--say at once 'Fifteen,' instead of mumbling over and over again, hundreds of times, 'Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.' "The reason, then, that some of the class add so slowly, is not, probably, because they want skill and rapidity of execution, but because they work to a great disadvantage by working in the wrong way. I have often been surprised at the dexterity and speed with which some scholars can count with their fingers when adding, and yet they could not get through the sum very quick--at least they would have done it in half the time if the same effort had been made in traveling on a shorter road. We will therefore study the addition table now, in the class, before we go any farther." 21. TARDINESS.--When only a few scholars in a school are tardy, it may be their fault; but if a great many are so, it is the fault of the teacher or of the school. If a school is prosperous, and the children are going on well and happily in their studies, they will like their work in it; but we all come reluctantly to work which we are conscious we are not successfully performing. There may be two boys in a school, both good boys; one, may be going on well in his classes, while the other, from the concurrence of some accidental train of circumstances, may be behindhand in his work, or wrongly classed, or so situated in other respects that his school duties perplex and harass him day by day. Now how different will be the feelings of these two boys in respect to coming to school. The one will be eager and prompt to reach his place and commence his duties, while the other will love much better to loiter in idleness and liberty in the open air. Nor is he, under the circumstances of the case, to blame for this preference. There is no one, old or young, who likes or can like to do what he himself and all around him think that he does not do well. It is true the teacher can not rely wholly on the interest which his scholars take in their studies to make them punctual at school; but if he finds among them any very general disposition to be tardy, he ought to seek for the fault mainly in himself and not in them. The foregoing narratives and examples, it is hoped, may induce some of the readers of this book to keep journals of their own experiments, and of the incidents which may, from time to time, come under their notice, illustrating the principles of education, or simply the characteristics and tendencies of the youthful mind. The business of teaching will excite interest and afford pleasure just in proportion to the degree in which it is conducted by operations of mind upon mind, and the means of making it most fully so are careful practice, based upon and regulated by the results of careful observation. Every teacher, then, should make observations and experiments upon mind a part of his daily duty, and nothing will more facilitate this than keeping a record of results. There can be no opportunity for studying human nature more favorable than the teacher enjoys. The materials are all before him; his very business, from day to day, brings him to act directly upon them; and the study of the powers and tendencies of the human mind is not only the most interesting and the noblest that can engage human attention, but every step of progress he makes in it imparts an interest and charm to what would otherwise be a weary toil. It at once relieves his labors, while it doubles their efficiency and success. CHAPTER IX. THE TEACHER'S FIRST DAY. [Illustration] The teacher enters upon the duties of his office by a much more sudden transition than is common in the other avocations and employments of life. In ordinary cases, business comes at first by slow degrees, and the beginner is introduced to the labors and responsibilities of his employment in a very gradual manner. The young teacher, however, enters by a single step into the very midst of his labors. Having, perhaps, never even heard a class recite before, he takes a short walk some winter morning, and suddenly finds himself instated at the desk, his fifty scholars around him, all looking him in the face, and waiting to be employed. Every thing comes upon him at once. He can do nothing until the day and the hour for opening the school arrives--then he has every thing to do. Under these circumstances, it is not surprising that the young teacher should look forward with unusual solicitude to his first day in school, and he desires, ordinarily, special instructions in respect to this occasion. Some such special instructions we propose to give in this chapter. The experienced teacher may think some of them too minute and trivial. But he must remember that they are intended for the youngest beginner in the humblest school; and if he recalls to mind his own feverish solicitude on the morning when he went to take his first command in the district school, he will pardon the seeming minuteness of detail. 1. It will be well for the young teacher to take opportunity, between the time of his engaging his school and that of his commencing it, to acquire as much information in respect to it beforehand as possible, so as to be somewhat acquainted with the scene of his labors before entering upon it. Ascertain the names and the characters of the principal families in the district, their ideas and wishes in respect to the government of the school, the kind of management adopted by one or two of the last teachers, the difficulties they fell into, the nature of the complaints made against them, if any, and the families with whom difficulty has usually arisen. This information must, of course, be obtained in private conversation; a good deal of it must be, from its very nature, highly confidential; but it is very important that the teacher should be possessed of it. He will necessarily become possessed of it by degrees in the course of his administration, when, however, it may be too late to be of any service to him. But, by judicious and proper efforts to acquire it beforehand, he will enter upon the discharge of his duties with great advantage. It is like a navigator's becoming acquainted beforehand with the nature and the dangers of the sea over which he is about to sail. Such inquiries as these will, in ordinary cases, bring to the teacher's knowledge, in most districts in our country, some cases of peculiarly troublesome scholars, or unreasonable and complaining parents; and stories of their unjustifiable conduct on former occasions will come to him exaggerated by the jealousy of rival neighbors. There is danger that his resentment may be roused a little, and that his mind will assume a hostile attitude at once toward such individuals, so that he will enter upon his work rather with a desire to seek a collision with them, or, at least, with secret feelings of defiance toward them--feelings which will lead to that kind of unbending perpendicularity in his demeanor toward them which will almost inevitably lead to a collision. Now this is wrong. There is, indeed, a point where firm resistance to unreasonable demands becomes a duty; but, as a general principle, it is most unquestionably true that it is the teacher's duty _to accommodate himself to the character and expectations of his employers_, not to face and brave them. Those italicized words _may be_ understood to mean something which would be entirely wrong; but in the sense in which I mean to use them there can be no question that they indicate the proper path for one employed by others to do work _for them_ in all cases to pursue. If, therefore, the teacher finds by his inquiries into the state of his district that there are some peculiar difficulties and dangers there, let him not cherish a disposition to face and resist them, but to avoid them. Let him go with an intention to soothe rather than to irritate feelings which have been wounded before, to comply with the wishes of all so far as he can, even if they are not entirely reasonable, and, while he endeavors to elevate the standard and correct the opinions prevailing among his employers by any means in his power, to aim at doing it gently, and in a tone and manner suitable to the relation he sustains--in a word, let him skillfully _avoid_ the dangers of his navigation, not obstinately run his ship against a rock on purpose on the ground that the rock has no business to be there. This is the spirit, then, with which these preliminary inquiries in regard to the patrons of the school ought to be made. We come now to a second point. 2. It will assist the young teacher very much in his first day's labors if he takes measures for seeing and conversing with some of the older or more intelligent scholars on the day or evening before he begins his school, with a view of obtaining from them some acquaintance with the internal arrangements and customs of the school. The object of this is to obtain the same kind of information with respect to the interior of the school that was recommended in respect to the district under the former head. He may call upon a few families, especially those which furnish a large number of scholars for the school, and make as many minute inquiries of them as he can respecting all the interior arrangements to which they have been accustomed, what reading-books and other text-books have been used, what are the principal classes in all the several departments of instruction, and what is the system of discipline, and of rewards and punishments, to which the school has been accustomed. If, in such conversations, the teacher should find a few intelligent and communicative scholars, he might learn a great deal about the past habits and condition of the school, which would be of great service to him. Not, by any means, that he will adopt and continue these methods as a matter of course, but only that a knowledge of them will render him very important aid in marking out his own course. The more minute and full the information of this sort is which he thus obtains, the better. If practicable, it would be well to make out a catalogue of all the principal classes, with the names of those individuals belonging to them who will probably attend the new school, and the order in which they were usually called upon to read or recite. The conversation which would be necessary to accomplish this would of itself be of great service. It would bring the teacher into an acquaintance with several important families and groups of children under the most favorable circumstances. The parents would see and be pleased with the kind of interest they would see the teacher taking in his new duties. The children would be pleased to be able to render their new instructor some service, and would go to the school-room on the next morning with a feeling of acquaintance with him, and a predisposition to be pleased. And if by chance any family should be thus called upon that had heretofore been captious or complaining, or disposed to be jealous of the higher importance or influence of other families, that spirit would be entirely softened and subdued by such an interview with their new instructor at their own fireside on the evening preceding the commencement of his labors. The great object, however, which the teacher would have in view in such inquiries should be the value of the information itself. As to the use which he will make of it, we shall speak hereafter. 3. It is desirable that the young teacher should meet his scholars first in an unofficial capacity. For this purpose, repair to the school-room on the first day at an early hour, so as to see and become acquainted with the scholars as they come in one by one. The intercourse between teacher and pupil should be like that between parents and children, where the utmost freedom is united with the most perfect respect. The father who is most firm and decisive in his family government can mingle most freely in the conversation and sports of his children without any derogation of his authority, or diminution of the respect they owe. Young teachers, however, are prone to forget this, and to imagine that they must assume an appearance of stern authority always, when in the presence of their scholars, if they wish to be respected or obeyed. This they call keeping up their dignity. Accordingly, they wait, on the morning of their induction into office, until their new subjects are all assembled, and then walk in with an air of the highest dignity, and with the step of a king; and sometimes a formidable instrument of discipline is carried in the hand to heighten the impression. Now there is no question that it is of great importance that scholars should have a high idea of the teacher's firmness and inflexible decision in maintaining his authority and repressing all disorder of every kind, but this impression should be created by their seeing how he _acts_ in the various emergencies which will spontaneously occur, and not by assuming airs of importance or dignity, feigned for effect. In other words, their respect for him should be based on _real traits_ of character as they see them brought out into natural action, and not on appearances assumed for the occasion. It seems to me, therefore, that it is best for the teacher first to meet his scholars with the air and tone of free and familiar intercourse, and he will find his opportunity more favorable for doing this if he goes early on the first morning of his labors, and converses freely with those whom he finds there, and with others as they come in. He may take an interest with them in all the little arrangements connected with the opening of the school--the building of the fire, the paths through the snow, the arrangements of seats; calling upon them for information or aid, asking their names, and, in a word, entering fully and freely into conversation with them, just as a parent, under similar circumstances, would do with his children. All the children thus addressed will be pleased with the gentleness and affability of the teacher. Even a rough and ill-natured boy, who has perhaps come to the school with the express determination of attempting to make mischief, will be completely disarmed by being asked politely to help the teacher arrange the fire, or alter the position of his desk. Thus, by means of the half hour during which the scholars are coming together, and of the visits made in the preceding evening, as described under the last head, the teacher will find, when he calls upon the children to take their seats, that he has made a very large number of them his personal friends. Many of these will have communicated their first impressions to the others, so that he will find himself possessed, at the outset, of that which is of vital consequence in the opening of any administration--a strong party in his favor. 4. The time for calling the school to order and commencing exercises of some sort will at length arrive, though if the work of making personal acquaintances is going on prosperously, it may perhaps be delayed a little beyond the usual hour. When, however, the time arrives, we would strongly recommend that the first service by which the regular duties of the school are commenced should be an act of religious worship. There are many reasons why the exercises of the school should every day be thus commenced, and there are special reasons for it on the first day. There are very few districts where parents would have any objection to this. They might, indeed, in some cases, if the subject were to be brought up formally before them as a matter of doubt, anticipate some difficulties, or create imaginary ones, growing out of the supposed sensitiveness of contending sects; but if the teacher were, of his own accord, to commence the plain, faithful, and honest discharge of this duty as a matter of course, very few would think of making any objection to it, and almost all would be satisfied and pleased with its actual operation. If, however, the teacher should, in any case, have reason to believe that such a practice would be contrary to the wishes of his employers, it would, according to views we have presented in another chapter, be wrong for him to attempt to introduce it. He might, if he should see fit, make such an objection a reason for declining to take the school; but he ought not, if he takes it, to act counter to the known wishes of his employers in so important a point. But if, on the other hand, no such objections are made known to him, he need not raise the question himself at all, but take it for granted that in a Christian land there will be no objection to imploring the Divine protection and blessing at the opening of a daily school. If this practice is adopted, it will have a most powerful influence upon the moral condition of the school. It must be so. Though many will be inattentive, and many utterly unconcerned, yet it is not possible to bring children, even in form, into the presence of God every day, and to utter in their hearing the petitions which they ought to present, without bringing a powerful element of moral influence to bear upon their hearts. The good will be made better; the conscientious more conscientious still; and the rude and savage will be subdued and softened by the daily attempt to lead them to the throne of their Creator. To secure this effect, the devotional service must be an honest one. There must be nothing feigned or hypocritical; no hackneyed phrases used without meaning, or intonations of assumed solemnity. It must be honest, heartfelt, simple prayer; the plain and direct expression of such sentiments as children ought to feel, and of such petitions as they ought to offer. We shall speak presently of the mode of avoiding some abuses to which this exercise is liable; but if these sources of abuse are avoided, and the duty is performed in that plain, simple, direct, and honest manner in which it certainly will be if it springs from the heart, it must have a great influence on the moral progress of the children, and, in fact, in all respects on the prosperity of the school. But, then, independently of the _advantages_ which may be expected to result from the practice of daily prayer in school, it would seem to be the imperious _duty_ of the teacher to adopt it. So many human minds committed thus to the guidance of one, at a period when the character receives so easily and so permanently its shape and direction, and in a world of probation like this, is an occasion which seems to demand the open recognition of the hand of God on the part of any individual to whom such a trust is committed. The duty springs so directly out of the attitude in which the teacher and pupil stand in respect to each other, and the relation they together bear to the Supreme, that it would seem impossible for any one to hesitate to admit the duty, without denying altogether the existence of a God. How vast the responsibility _of giving form and character to the human soul!_ How mighty the influence of which the unformed minds of a group of children are susceptible! How much their daily teacher must inevitably exert upon them! If we admit the existence of God at all, and that he exerts any agency whatever in the moral world which he has produced, here seems to be one of the strongest cases in which his intervention should be sought. And then, when we reflect upon the influence which would be exerted upon the future religious character of this nation by having the millions of children training up in the schools accustomed, through all the years of early life, to being brought daily into the presence of the Supreme, with thanksgiving, confession, and prayer, it can hardly seem possible that the teacher who wishes to be faithful in his duties should hesitate in regard to this. Some teacher may perhaps say that he can not perform it because he is not a religious man--he makes no pretensions to piety. But this can surely be no reason. He _ought to be_ a religious man, and his first prayer offered in school may be the first act by which he becomes so. Entering the service of Jehovah is a work which requires no preliminary steps. It is to be done at once by sincere confession, and an honest prayer for forgiveness for the past, and strength for time to come. A daily religious service in school may be, therefore, the outward act by which he, who has long lived without God, may return to his duty. If, from such considerations, the teacher purposes to have a daily religious service in his school, he should by all means begin on the first day, and when he first calls his school to order. He should mention to his pupils the great and obvious duty of imploring God's guidance and blessing in all their ways, and then read a short portion of Scripture, with an occasional word or two of simple explanation, and offer, himself, a short and simple prayer. In some cases, teachers are disposed to postpone this duty a day or two, from timidity or other causes, hoping that, after becoming acquainted a little with the school, and having completed their more important arrangements, they shall find it easier to begin. But this is a great mistake. The longer the duty is postponed, the more difficult and trying it will be. And then the moral impressions will be altogether more strong and salutary if an act of solemn religious worship is made the first opening act of the school. Where the teacher has not sufficient confidence that the general sense of propriety among his pupils will preserve good order and decorum during the exercise, it may be better for him to _read_ a prayer selected from books of devotion, or prepared by himself expressly for the occasion. By this plan his school will be, during the exercise, under his own observation, as at other times. It may, in some schools where the number is small, or the prevailing habits of seriousness and order are good, be well to allow the older scholars to read the prayer in rotation, taking especial care that it does not degenerate into a mere reading exercise, but that it is understood, both by readers and hearers, to be a solemn act of religious worship. In a word, if the teacher is really honest and sincere in his wish to lead his pupils to the worship of God, he will find no serious difficulty in preventing the abuses and avoiding the dangers which some might fear, and in accomplishing vast good, both in promoting the prosperity of the school, and in the formation of the highest and best traits of individual character. We have dwelt, perhaps, longer on this subject than we ought to have done in this place; but its importance, when viewed in its bearings on the thousands of children daily assembling in our district schools must be our apology. The embarrassments and difficulties arising from the extreme sensitiveness which exists among the various denominations of Christians in our land, threaten to interfere very seriously with giving a proper degree of religious instruction to the mass of the youthful population. But we must not, because we have no national _church_, cease to have a national _religion_. All our institutions ought to be so administered as openly to recognize the hand of God, and to seek his protection and blessing; and in regard to none is it more imperiously necessary than in respect to our common schools. 5. After the school is thus opened, the teacher will find himself brought to the great difficulty which embarrasses the beginning of his labors, namely, that of finding immediate employment at once for the thirty or forty children who all look up to him waiting for their orders. I say thirty or forty, for the young teachers first school will usually be a small one. His object should be, in all ordinary cases, for the first few days, twofold: first, to revive and restore, in the main, the general routine of classes and exercises pursued by his predecessor in the same school; and, secondly, while doing this, to become as fully acquainted with his scholars as possible. It is best, then, _ordinarily_, for the teacher to begin the school as his predecessor closed it, and make the transition to his own perhaps more improved method a gradual one. In some cases a different course is wise undoubtedly, as, for example, where a teacher is commencing a private school, on a previously well-digested plan of his own, or where one who has had experience, and has confidence in his power to bring his new pupils promptly and at once into the system of classification and instruction which he prefers. It is difficult, however, to do this, and requires a good deal of address and decision. It is far easier and safer, and in almost all cases better, in every respect, for a young teacher to revive and restore the former arrangements in the main, and take his departure from them. He may afterward make changes, as he may find them necessary or desirable, and even bring the school soon into a very different state from that in which he finds it; but it will generally be more pleasant for himself, and better for the school, to avoid the shock of a sudden and entire revolution. The first thing, then, when the scholars are ready to be employed, is to set them at work in classes or upon lessons, as they would have been employed had the former teacher continued in charge of the school. To illustrate clearly how this may be done, we may give the following dialogue: _Teacher_. Can any one of the boys inform me what was the first lesson that the former master used to hear in the morning? The boys are silent, looking to one another. _Teacher_. Did he hear _any_ recitation immediately after school began? _Boys_ (faintly, and with hesitation). No, sir. _Teacher_. How long was it before he began to hear lessons? Several boys simultaneously. "About half an hour." "A little while." "Quarter of an hour." "What did he do at this time?" "Set copies," "Looked over sums," and various other answers are perhaps given. The teacher makes a memorandum of this, and then inquires, "And what lesson came after this?" "Geography." "All the boys in this school who studied Geography may rise." A considerable number rise. "Did you all recite together?" "No, sir." "There are two classes, then?" "Yes. sir." "Yes, sir." "More than two." "All who belong to the class that recites first in the morning may remain standing; the rest may sit." The boys obey, and eight or ten of them remain standing. The teacher calls upon one of them to produce his book, and assigns them a lesson in regular course. He then requests some one of the number to write out, in the course of the day, a list of the class, and to bring it with him to the recitation the next morning. "Are there any other scholars in the school who think it would be well for them to join this class?" In answer to this question probably some new scholars might rise, or some hitherto belonging to other classes, who might be of suitable age and qualifications to be transferred. If these individuals should appear to be of the proper standing and character, they might at once be joined to the class in question, and directed to take the same lesson. In the same manner, the other classes would pass in review before the teacher, and he would obtain a memorandum of the usual order of exercises, and in a short time set all his pupils at work preparing for the lessons of the next day. He would be much aided in this by the previous knowledge which he would have obtained by private conversation, as recommended under a former head. Some individual cases would require a little special attention, such as new scholars, small children, and others; but he would be able, before a great while, to look around him and see his whole school busy with the work he had assigned them, and his own time, for the rest of the morning, in a great degree at his own command. I ought to say, however, that it is not probable that he would long continue these arrangements unaltered. In hearing the different classes recite, he would watch for opportunities for combining them, or discontinuing those where the number was small; he would alter the times of recitation, and group individual scholars into classes, so as to bring the school, in a very short time, into a condition corresponding more nearly with his own views. All this can be done very easily and pleasantly when the wheels are once in motion; for a school is like a ship in one respect--most easily steered in the right direction when under sail. By this plan, also, the teacher obtains what is almost absolutely necessary at the commencement of his labors, time for _observation_. It is of the first importance that he should become acquainted, as early as possible, with the characters of the boys, especially to learn who those are which are most likely to be troublesome. There always will be a few who will require special watch and care, and generally there will be only a few. A great deal depends on finding these individuals out in good season, and bringing the pressure of a proper authority to bear upon them soon. By the plan I have recommended of not attempting to remodel the school wholly at once, the teacher obtains time for noticing the pupils, and learning something about their individual characters. In fact, so important is this, that it is the plan of some teachers, whenever they commence a new school, to let the boys have their own way, almost entirely, for a few days, in order to find out fully who the idle and mischievous are. This is, perhaps, going a little too far; but it is certainly desirable to enjoy as many opportunities for observation as can be secured on the first few days of the school. 6. Make it, then, a special object of attention, during the first day or two, to discover who the idle and mischievous individuals are. They will have generally seated themselves together in little knots; for, as they are aware that the new teacher does not know them, they will imagine that, though perhaps separated before, they can now slip together again without any trouble. It is best to avoid, if possible, an open collision with any of them at once, in order that they may be the better observed. Whenever, therefore, you see idleness or play, endeavor to remedy the evil for the time by giving the individual something special to do, or by some other measure, without, however, seeming to notice the misconduct. Continue thus adroitly to stop every thing disorderly, while, at the same time, you notice and remember where the tendencies to disorder exist. By this means, the individuals who would cause most of the trouble and difficulty in the discipline of the school will soon betray themselves, and those whose fidelity and good behavior can be relied upon will also be known. The names of the former should be among the first that the teacher learns, and their characters should be among the first which he studies. The most prominent among them--those apparently most likely to make trouble--he should note particularly, and make inquiries out of school respecting them, their characters, and their education at home, so as to become acquainted with them as early and as fully as possible, for he must have this full acquaintance with them before he is prepared to commence any decided course of discipline with them. The teacher often does irreparable injury by rash action at the outset. He sees, for instance, a boy secretly eating an apple which he has concealed in his hand, and which he bites with his book before his mouth, or his head under the lid of his desk. It is perhaps the first day of the school, and the teacher thinks he had better make an example at the outset, and calls the boy out, knowing nothing about his general character, and inflicts some painful or degrading punishment before all the school. A little afterward, as he becomes gradually acquainted with the boy, he finds that he is of mild, gentle disposition, generally obedient and harmless, and that his offense was only an act of momentary thoughtlessness, arising from some circumstances of peculiar temptation at the time; a boy in the next seat, perhaps, had just before given him the apple. The teacher regrets, when too late, the hasty punishment. He perceives that instead of having the influence of salutary example upon the other boys, it must have shocked their sense of justice, and excited dislike toward a teacher so quick and severe, rather than of fear of doing wrong themselves. It would be safer to postpone such decided measures a little--to avoid all open collisions, if possible, for a few days. In such a case as the above, the boy might be kindly spoken to in an under tone, in such a way as to show both the teacher's sense of the impropriety of disorder, and also his desire to avoid giving pain to the boy. If it then turns out that the individual is ordinarily a well-disposed boy, all is right, and if he proves to be habitually disobedient and troublesome, the lenity and forbearance exercised at first will facilitate the effect aimed at by subsequent measures. Avoid, then, for the few first days, all open collision with any of your pupils, that you may have opportunity for minute and thorough observation. And here the young teacher ought to be cautioned against a fault which beginners are very prone to fall into, that of forming unfavorable opinions of some of their pupils from their air and manner before they see any thing in their conduct which ought to be disapproved. A boy or girl comes to the desk to ask a question or make a request, and the teacher sees in the cast of countenance, or in the bearing or tone of the individual, something indicating a proud, or a sullen, or an ill-humored disposition, and conceives a prejudice, often entirely without foundation, which weeks perhaps do not wear away. Every experienced teacher can recollect numerous cases of this sort, and he learns, after a time, to suspend his judgment. Be cautious, therefore, on this point, and in the survey of your pupils which you make during the first few days of your school, trust to nothing but the most sure and unequivocal evidences of character, for many of your most docile and faithful pupils will be found among those whose appearance at first prepossessed you strongly against them. One other caution ought also to be given. Do not judge too severely in respect to the ordinary cases of misconduct in school. The young teacher almost invariably does judge too severely. While engaged himself in hearing a recitation, or looking over a "sum," he hears a stifled laugh, and, looking up, sees the little offender struggling with the muscles of his countenance to restore their gravity. The teacher is vexed at the interruption, and severely rebukes or punishes the boy, when, after all, the offense, in a moral point of view, was an exceedingly light one--at least it might very probably have been so. In fact, a large proportion of the offenses against order committed in school are the mere momentary action of the natural buoyancy and life of childhood. This is no reason why they should be indulged, or why the order and regularity of the school should be sacrificed, but it should prevent their exciting feelings of anger or impatience, or very severe reprehension. While the teacher should take effectual measures for restraining all such irregularities, he should do it with the tone and manner which will show that he understands their true moral character, and deals with them, not as heinous sins, which deserve severe punishment, but as serious inconveniences, which he is compelled to repress. There are often cases of real moral turpitude in school, such as where there is intentional, willful mischief, or disturbance, or habitual disobedience, and there may even be, in some cases, open rebellion. Now the teacher should show that he distinguishes these cases from such momentary acts of thoughtlessness as we have described, and a broad distinction ought to be made in the treatment of them. In a word, then, what we have been recommending under this head is, that the teacher should make it his special study, for his first few days in school, to acquire a knowledge of the characters of his pupils, to learn who are the thoughtless ones, who the mischievous, and who the disobedient and rebellious, and to do this with candid, moral discrimination, and with as little open collision with individuals as possible. 7. Another point to which the teacher ought to give his early attention is to separate the bad boys as soon as he can from one another. The idleness and irregularity of children in school often depends more on accidental circumstances than on character. Two boys may be individually harmless and well-disposed, and yet they may be of so mercurial a temperament that, together, the temptation to continual play will be irresistible. Another case that more often happens is where one is actively and even intentionally bad, and is seated next to an innocent, but perhaps thoughtless boy, and contrives to keep him always in difficulty. Now remove the former away, where there are no very frail materials for him to act upon, and place the latter where he is exposed to no special temptation, and all would be well. This is all very obvious, and known familiarly to all teachers who have had any experience. But beginners are not generally so aware of it at the outset as to make any direct and systematic efforts to examine the school with reference to its condition in this respect. It is usual to go on, leaving the boys to remain seated as chance or their own inclinations grouped them, and to endeavor to keep the peace among the various neighborhoods by close supervision, rebukes, and punishment. Now these difficulties may be very much diminished by looking a little into the arrangement of the boys at the outset, and so modifying it as to diminish the amount of temptation to which the individuals are exposed. This should be done, however, cautiously, deliberately, and with good-nature, keeping the object of it a good deal out of view. It must be done cautiously and deliberately, for the first appearances are exceedingly fallacious in respect to the characters of the different children. You see, perhaps, some indications of play between two boys upon the same seat, and hastily conclude that they are disorderly boys, and must be separated. Something in the air and manner of one or both of them confirms this impression, and you take the necessary measures at once. You then find, when you become more fully acquainted with them, that the appearances which you observed were only momentary and accidental, and that they would have been as safe together as any two boys in the school. And perhaps you will even find that, by their new position, you have brought one or the other into circumstances of peculiar temptation. Wait, therefore, before you make such changes, till you have ascertained _actual character_, doing this, however, without any unnecessary delay. In such removals, too, it is well, in many cases, to keep the motive and design of them as much as possible out of view; for by expressing suspicion of a boy, you injure his character in his own opinion and in that of others, and tend to make him reckless. Besides, if you remove a boy from a companion whom he likes, avowedly to prevent his playing, you offer him an inducement, if he is a bad boy, to continue to play in his new position for the purpose of thwarting you, or from the influence of resentment. It would be wrong, indeed, to use any subterfuge or duplicity of any kind to conceal your object, but you are not bound to explain it; and in the many changes which you will be compelled to make in the course of the first week for various purposes, you may include many of these without explaining particularly the design or intention of any of them. In some instances, however, you may frankly state the whole case without danger, provided it is done in such a manner as not to make the boy feel that his character is seriously injured in your estimation. It must depend upon the tact and judgment of the teacher to determine upon the particular course to be pursued in the several cases, though he ought to keep these general principles in view in all. In one instance, for example, he will see two boys together, James and Joseph we will call them, exhibiting a tendency to play, and after inquiring into their characters, he will find that they are good-natured, pleasant boys, and that he had better be frank with them on the subject. He calls one of them to his desk, and perhaps the following dialogue ensues: "James, I am making some changes in the seats, and thought of removing you to another place. Have you any particular preference for that seat?" The question is unexpected, and James hesitates. He wishes to sit next to Joseph, but doubts whether it is quite prudent to avow it; so he says, slowly and with hesitation, "No, sir, I do not know that I have." "If you have any reason, I wish you would tell me frankly, for I want you to have such a seat as will be pleasant to you." James does not know what to say. Encouraged, however, by the good-humored tone and look which the master assumes, he says, timidly, "Joseph and I thought we should like to sit together, if you are willing." "Oh! you and Joseph are particular friends, then, I suppose?" "Why, yes, sir." "I am not surprised, then, that you want to sit together, though, to tell the truth, that is rather a reason why I should separate you." "Why, sir?" "Because I have observed that when two great friends are seated together, they are always more apt to whisper and play. Have you not observed it?" "Why, yes, sir." "You may go and ask Joseph to come here." When the two boys make their appearance again, the teacher continues: "Joseph, James tells me that you and he would like to sit together, and says you are particular friends; but I tell him," he adds, smiling, "that that is rather a reason for separating you. Now if I should put you both into different parts of the school, next to boys that you are not acquainted with, it would be a great deal easier for you to be still and studious than it is now. Do you not think so yourselves?" The boys look at one another and smile. "However, there is one way you can do. You can guard against the extra temptation by extra care; and, on the whole, as I believe you are pretty good boys, I will let you have your choice. You may stay as you are, and make extra exertion to be perfectly regular and studious, or I will find seats for you where it will be a great deal easier for you to be so. Which do you think you should rather do?" The boys hesitate, look at one another, and presently say that they had rather sit together. "Well," said the teacher, "it is immaterial to me whether you sit together or apart, if you are only good boys, so you may take your seats and try it a little while. If you find it too hard work to be studious and orderly together, I can make a change hereafter. I shall soon see." Such a conversation will have many good effects. It will make the boys expect to be watched, without causing them to feel that their characters have suffered. It will stimulate them to greater exertion to avoid all misconduct, and it will prepare the way for separating them afterward without awakening feelings of resentment, if the experiment of their sitting together should fail. Another case would be managed, perhaps, in a little different way, where the tendency to play was more decided. After speaking to the individuals mildly two or three times, you see them again at play. You ask them to wait that day after school and come to your desk. They have, then, the rest of the day to think occasionally of the difficulty they have brought themselves into, and the anxiety and suspense which they will naturally feel will give you every advantage for speaking to them with effect; and if you should be engaged a few minutes with some other business after school, so that they should have to stand a little while in silent expectation, waiting for their turn, it would contribute to the permanence of the effect. "Well, boys," at length you say, with a serious but frank tone of voice, "I saw you playing in a disorderly manner to-day, and, in the first place, I wish you to tell me honestly all about it. I am not going to punish you, but I wish you to be open and honest about it. What were you doing?" The boys hesitate. "George, what did you have in your hand?" "A piece of paper." "And what were you doing with it?" _George_. William was trying to take it away from me. "Was there any thing on it?" "Yes, sir." "What?" George looks down, a little confused. _William_. George had been drawing some pictures on it. "I see each of you is ready to tell of the other's fault, but it would be much more honorable if each was open in acknowledging his own. Have I ever had to speak to you before for playing together in school?" "Yes, sir, I believe you have," says one, looking down. "More than once?" "Yes, sir." "More than twice?" "I do not recollect exactly; I believe you have." "Well, now, what do you think I ought to do next?" The boys have nothing to say. "Do you prefer sitting together, or are you willing to have me separate you?" "We should rather sit together, sir, if you are willing," says George. "I have no objection to your sitting together, if you could only resist the temptation to play. I want all the boys in the school to have pleasant seats." There is a pause, the teacher hesitating what to do. "Suppose, now, I were to make one more experiment, and let you try to be good boys in your present seat, would you really try?" "Yes, sir," "Yes, sir, we will," are the replies. "And if I should find that you still continue to play, and should have to separate you, will you move into your new seats pleasantly, and with good-humor, feeling that I have done right about if?" "Yes, sir, we will." Thus it will be seen that there may be cases where the teacher may make arrangements for separating his scholars, on an open and distinct understanding with them in respect to the cause of it. We have given these cases, not that exactly such ones will be very likely to occur, or that, when they do, the teacher is to manage them in exactly the way here described, but to exhibit more clearly to the reader than could be done by any general description, the spirit and tone which a teacher ought to assume toward his pupils. We wished to exhibit this in contrast with the harsh and impatient manner which teachers too often assume in such a case, as follows: "John Williams and Samuel Smith, come here to me!" exclaims the master, in a harsh, impatient tone, in the midst of the exercises of the afternoon. The scholars all look up from their work. The culprits slowly rise from their seats, and with a sullen air come down to the floor. "You are playing, boys, all the time, and I will not have it. John, do you take your books, and go and sit out there by the window; and, Samuel, you come and sit here on this front seat; and if I catch you playing again, I shall certainly punish you severely." The boys make the move with as much rattling and distention to make a noise; and when they get their new seats, and the teacher is again engaged upon his work, they exchange winks and nods, and in ten minutes are slyly cannonading each other with paper balls. In regard to all the directions that have been given under this head, I ought to say again, before concluding it, that they are mainly applicable to the case of beginners and of small schools. The general principles are, it is true, of universal application, but it is only where a school is of moderate size that the details of position, in respect to individual scholars, can be minutely studied. More summary processes are necessary, I am aware, when the school is very large, and the time of the teacher is incessantly engaged. 8. In some districts in New England the young teacher will find one or more boys, generally among the larger ones, who will come to the school with the express determination to make a difficulty if they can. The best way is generally to face these individuals at once in the most direct and open manner, and, at the same time, with perfect good-humor and kindness of feeling and deportment toward them personally. An example or two will best illustrate what I mean. A teacher heard a rapping noise repeatedly one day, just after he had commenced his labors, under such circumstances as to lead him to suppose it was designed. He did not appear to notice it, but remained after school until the scholars had all gone, and then made a thorough examination. He found, at length, a broken place in the plastering, where a _lath_ was loose, and a string was tied to the end of it, and thence carried along the wall, under the benches, to the seat of a mischievous boy, and fastened to a nail. By pulling the string he could spring the lath, and then let it snap back to its place. He left every thing as it was, and the next day, while engaged in a lesson, he heard the noise again. He rose from his seat. The scholars all looked up from their books. "Did you hear that noise?" said he. "Yes, sir." "Do you know what it is?" "No, sir." "Very well; I only wished to call your attention to it. I may perhaps speak of it again by-and-by." He then resumed his exercise as if nothing had happened. The guilty boy was agitated and confused, and was utterly at a loss to know what to do. What could the teacher mean? Had he discovered the trick? and, if so, what was he going to do? He grew more and more uneasy, and resolved that, at all events, it was best for him to retreat. Accordingly, at the next recess, as the teacher had anticipated, he went slyly to the lath, cut the string, then returned to his seat, and drew the line in, rolled it up, and put it in his pocket. The teacher, who was secretly watching him, observed the whole manoeuvre. At the close of the school, when the books were laid aside, and all was silence, he treated the affair thus: "Do you remember the noise to which I called your attention early this afternoon"?" "Yes, sir." "I will explain it to you now. One of the boys tied a string to a loose lath in the side of the room, and then, having the end of it at his seat, he was pulling it to make a noise to disturb us." The scholars all looked astonished, and then began to turn round toward one another to see who the offender could be. The culprit began to tremble. "He did it several times yesterday, and would have gone on doing it had I not spoken about it to-day. Do you think this was wrong or not?" "Yes, sir;" "Wrong;" "Wrong," are the replies. "What harm does it do?" "It interrupts the school." "Yes. Is there any other harm?" The boys hesitate. "It gives me trouble and pain. Should you not suppose it would?" "Yes, sir." "Have I ever treated any boy or girl in this school unjustly or unkindly?" "No, sir;" "No, sir." "Then why should any boy or girl wish to give me trouble or pain?" There was a pause. The guilty individual expected that the next thing would be to call him out for punishment. "Now what do you think I ought to do with such a boy?" No answer. "Perhaps I ought to punish him, but I am very unwilling to do that. I concluded to try another plan--to treat him with kindness and forbearance. So I called your attention to it this afternoon, to let him know that I was observing it, and to give him an opportunity to remove the string. And he did. He went, in the recess, and cut off the string. I shall not tell you his name, for I do not wish to injure his character. All I want is to have him a good boy." A pause. "I think I shall try this plan, for he must have some feelings of honor and gratitude, and if he has, he certainly will not try to give me pain or trouble again after this. And now I shall say no more about it, nor think any more about it; only, to prove that it is all as I say, if you look there under that window after school, you will see the lath with the end of the string round it, and, by pulling it, you can make it snap." Another case, a little more serious in its character, is the following: A teacher, having had some trouble with a rude and savage-looking boy, made some inquiry respecting him out of school, and incidentally learned that he had once or twice before openly rebelled against the authority of the school, and that he was now, in the recesses, actually preparing a club, with which he was threatening to defend himself if the teacher should attempt to punish him. The next day, soon after the boys had gone out, he took his hat and followed them, and, turning round a corner of the school-house, found the boys standing around the young rebel, who was sitting upon a log, shaving the handle of the club smooth with his pocket-knife. He was startled at the unexpected appearance of the teacher, and the first impulse was to hide his club behind him; but it was too late, and, supposing that the teacher was ignorant of his designs, he went on sullenly with his work, feeling, however, greatly embarrassed. "Pleasant day, boys," said the teacher. "This is a fine sunny nook for you to talk in. "Seems to me, however, you ought to have a better seat than this old log," continued he, taking his seat at the same time by the side of the boy. "Not so bad a seat, however, after all. What are you making, Joseph?" Joseph mumbled out something inarticulate by way of reply. "I have got a sharper knife," said he, drawing his penknife out of his pocket. And then, "Let me try it," he continued, gently taking the club out of Joseph's hand. The boys looked surprised, some exchanged nods and winks, others turned away to conceal a laugh; but the teacher engaged in conversation with them, and soon put them all at their ease except poor Joseph, who could not tell how this strange interview was likely to end. In the mean time, the teacher went on shaving the handle smooth and rounding the ends. "You want," said he, "a rasp or coarse file for the ends, and then you could finish it finely. But what are you making this formidable club for?" Joseph was completely at a loss what to say. He began to show evident marks of embarrassment and confusion. "I know what it is for; it is to defend yourself against me with. Is it not, boys?" said he, appealing to the others. A faint "Yes, sir" or two was the reply. "Well, now, Joseph, it will be a great deal better for us both to be friends than to be enemies. You had better throw this club away, and save yourself from punishment by being a good boy. Come, now," said he, handing him back his club, "throw it over into the field as far as you can, and we will all forget that you ever made it." Joseph sat the picture of shame and confusion. Better feelings were struggling for admission, and the case was decided by a broad-faced, good-natured-looking boy, who stood by his side, saying almost involuntarily, "Better throw it, Joe." The club flew, end over end, into the field. Joseph returned to his allegiance, and never attempted to rise in rebellion again. The ways by which boys engage in open, intentional disobedience are, of course, greatly varied, and the exact treatment will depend upon the features of the individual case; but the frankness, the openness, the plain dealing, and the kind and friendly tone which it is the object of the foregoing illustrations to exhibit, should characterize all. 9. We have already alluded to the importance of a delicate regard for the _characters_ of the boys in all the measures of discipline adopted at the commencement of a school. This is, in fact, of the highest importance at all times, and is peculiarly so at the outset. A wound to the feelings is sometimes inflicted by a single transaction which produces a lasting injury to the character. Children are very sensitive to ridicule or disgrace, and some are most acutely so. A cutting reproof administered in public, or a punishment which exposes the individual to the gaze of others, will often burn far more deeply into the heart than the teacher imagines. And it is often the cause of great and lasting injury, too. By destroying the character of a pupil, you make him feel that he has nothing more to lose or gain, and destroy that kind of interest in his own moral condition which alone will allure him to virtuous conduct. To expose children to public ridicule or contempt tends either to make them sullen and despondent, or else to arouse their resentment and to make them reckless and desperate. Most persons remember through life some instances in their early childhood in which they were disgraced or ridiculed at school, and the permanence of the recollection is a test of the violence of the effect. Be very careful, then, to avoid, especially at the commencement of the school, publicly exposing those who do wrong. Sometimes you may make the offense public, as in the case of the snapping of the lath, described under a former head, while you kindly conceal the name of the offender. Even if the school generally understand who he is, the injury of public exposure is almost altogether avoided, for the sense of disgrace does not come nearly so vividly home to the mind of a child from hearing occasional allusions to his offense by individuals among his playmates, as when he feels himself, at a particular time, the object of universal attention and dishonor. And then, besides, if the pupil perceives that the teacher is tender of his reputation, he will, by a feeling somewhere between imitation and sympathy, begin to feel a little tender of it too. Every exertion should be made, therefore, to lead children to value their character, and to help them to preserve it, and especially to avoid, at the beginning, every unnecessary sacrifice of it. And yet there are cases where shame is the very best possible remedy for juvenile faults. If a boy, for example, is self-conceited, bold, and mischievous, with feelings somewhat callous, and an influence extensive and bad, an opportunity will sometimes occur to hold up his conduct to the just reprobation of the school with great advantage. By this means, if it is done in such a way as to _secure_ the influence of the school on the right side, many good effects are sometimes attained. His pride and self-conceit are humbled, his bad influence receives a very decided check, and he is forced to draw back at once from the prominent stand he has occupied. Richard Jones, for example, is a rude, coarse, self-conceited boy, often doing wrong both in school and out, and yet possessed of that peculiar influence which a bad boy often contrives to exert in school. The teacher, after watching some time for an opportunity to humble him, one day overhears a difficulty among the boys, and, looking out of the window, observes that he is taking away a sled from one of the little boys to slide down hill upon, having none of his own. The little boy resists as well as he can, and complains bitterly, but it is of no avail. At the close of the school that day, the teacher commences conversation on the subject as follows: "Boys, do you know what the difference is between stealing and robbery?" "Yes, sir." "What!" The boys hesitate, and look at one another. "Suppose a thief were to go into a man's store in the daytime, and take away something secretly, would it be stealing or robbery?" "Stealing." "Suppose he should meet him in the road, and take it away by force?" "Then it would be robbery." "Yes; when that which belongs to another is taken secretly, it is called stealing; when it is taken openly or with violence, it is called robbery. Which, now, do you think is the worst?" "Robbery." "Yes, for it is more barefaced and determined--then it gives a great deal more pain to the one who is injured. To-day I saw one of the boys in this school taking away another boy's sled, openly and with violence." The boys all look round toward Richard. "Was that of the nature of stealing or robbery? "Robbery," say the boys. "Was it real robbery?" They hesitate. "If any of you think of any reason why it was not real robbery, you may name it." "He gave the sled back to him," says one of the boys. "Yes; and therefore, to describe the action correctly, we should not say Richard robbed a boy of his sled, but that he robbed him of his sled _for a time_, or he robbed him of the _use_ of his sled. Still, in respect to the nature and the guilt of it, it was robbery. "There is another thing which ought to be observed about it. Whose sled was it that Richard took away?" "James Thompson's." "James, you may stand up. "Notice his size, boys. I should like to have Richard Jones stand up too, so that you might compare them; but I presume he feels very much ashamed of what he has done, and it would be very unpleasant for him to stand up. You will remember, however, how large he is. Now when I was a boy, it used to be considered dishonorable and cowardly for a large, strong boy to abuse a little one who can not defend himself. Is it considered so now?" "Yes, sir." "It ought to be, certainly; though, were it not for such a case as this, we should not have thought of considering Richard Jones a coward. It seems he did not dare to try to take away a sled from a boy who was as big as himself, but attacked little James, for he knew he was not strong enough to defend himself." Now, in some such cases as this, great good may be done, both in respect to the individual and to the state of public sentiment in school, by openly exposing a boy's misconduct. The teacher must always take care, however, that the state of mind and character in the guilty individual is such that public exposure is adapted to work well as a remedy, and also that, in managing it, he carries the sympathies of the other boys with him. To secure this, he must avoid all harsh and exaggerated expressions or direct reproaches, and while he is mild, and gentle, and forbearing himself, lead the boys to understand and feel the nature of the sin which he exposes. The opportunities for doing this to advantage will, however, be rare. Generally it will be best to manage cases of discipline more privately, so as to protect the characters of those that offend. The teacher should thus, in accordance with the directions we have given, commence his labors with careful circumspection, patience, frankness, and honest good-will toward every individual of his charge. He will find less difficulty at the outset than he would have expected, and soon have the satisfaction of perceiving that a mild but most efficient government is quietly and firmly established in the little kingdom over which he is called to reign. THE END. 
34200	----	Transcriber's Note: Boldface type is indicated by =equal signs=; italics are indicated by _underscores_. STORY LESSONS ON CHARACTER-BUILDING (MORALS) AND MANNERS. STORY LESSONS ON CHARACTER-BUILDING (MORALS) AND MANNERS BY LOÏS BATES AUTHOR OF "KINDERGARTEN GUIDE," "NEW RECITATIONS FOR INFANTS," "GAMES WITHOUT MUSIC," ETC. LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK AND BOMBAY 1900 PREFACE. ALTHOUGH it is admitted by all teachers, in theory at least, that morals and manners are essential subjects in the curriculum of life, how very few give them an appointed place in the school routine. Every other subject has its special time allotted, but these--the most important subjects--are left to chance, or taken up, haphazard, at any time; surely this is wrong. Incidents often occur in the school or home life which afford fitting opportunity for the inculcation of some special moral truth, but maybe the teacher or mother has no suitable illustration just at hand, and the occasion is passed over with a reproof. It is hoped that where such want is felt this little book may supply the need. The stories may be either told or read to the children, and are as suitable for the home as the school. "The Fairy Temple" should be read as an introduction to the Story Lessons, for the _teaching_ of the latter is based on this introductory fairy tale. If used at home the blackboard sketch may be written on a slate or slip of paper. The children will not weary if the stories are repeated again and again (this at least was the writer's experience), and they will be eager to pronounce what is the teaching of the tale. In this way the lessons are reiterated and enforced. The method is one which the writer found exceedingly effective during long years of experience. Picture-teaching is an ideal way of conveying truths to children, and these little stories are intended to be pictures in which the children may see and contrast the good with the bad, and learn to love the good. The faults of young children are almost invariably due either to thoughtlessness or want of knowledge, and the little ones are delighted to learn and put into practice the lessons taught in these stories, which teaching should be applied in the class or home as occasion arises. _E.g._, a child is passing in front of another without any apology, the teacher says, immediately: "Remember Minnie, you do not wish to be rude, like she was" (Story Lesson 111). Or if a child omits to say "Thank you," he may be reminded by asking: "Have you forgotten 'Alec and the Fairies'?" (Story Lesson 95). The story lessons should be read to the children until they become perfectly familiar with them, so that each may be applied in the manner indicated. CONTENTS. 1.--MORALS. CHAPTER PAGE I. INTRODUCTORY STORY-- 1. The Fairy Temple 1 II. OBEDIENCE-- 2. The Two Voices 4 3. (Why we Should Obey.) The Pilot 6 4. (Why we Should Obey.) The Dog that did not like to be Washed 7 5. (Ready Obedience.) Robert and the Marbles 9 6. (Unready, Sulky Obedience.) Jimmy and the Overcoat 9 III. LOYALTY-- 7. Rowland and the Apple Tart 10 IV. TRUTHFULNESS-- 8. (Direct Untruth.) Lucy and the Jug of Milk 12 9. (Untruth, by not Speaking.) Mabel and Fritz 13 10. (Untruth, by not Telling _All_.) A Game of Cricket 14 11. (Untruth, by "Stretching"--Exaggeration.) The Three Feathers 16 V. HONESTY-- 12. Lulu and the Pretty Coloured Wool 17 13. (Taking Little Things.) Carl and the Lump of Sugar 19 14. (Taking Little Things.) Lilie and the Scent 19 15. Copying 20 16. On Finding Things 22 VI. KINDNESS-- 17. Squeaking Wheels 23 18. Birds and Trees 24 19. Flowers and Bees 25 20. Lulu and the Bundle 26 VII. THOUGHTFULNESS-- 21. Baby Elsie and the Stool 27 22. The Thoughtful Soldier 28 VIII. HELP ONE ANOTHER-- 23. The Cat and the Parrot 29 24. The Two Monkeys 30 25. The Wounded Bird 31 IX. ON BEING BRAVE-- 26. (Brave in Danger.) How Leonard Saved his Little Brother 32 27. (Brave in Little Things.) The Twins 33 28. (Brave in Suffering.) The Broken Arm 34 29. (Brave in Suffering.) The Brave Monkey 35 X. TRY, TRY AGAIN-- 30. The Sparrow that would not be Beaten 35 31. The Railway Train 36 32. The Man who Found America 37 XI. PATIENCE-- 33. Walter and the Spoilt Page 38 34. The Drawings Eaten by the Rats 39 XII. ON GIVING IN-- 35. Playing at Shop 40 36. The Two Goats 41 XIII. ON BEING GENEROUS-- 37. Lilie and the Beggar Girl 41 38. Bertie and the Porridge 42 XIV. FORGIVENESS-- 39. The Two Dogs 43 XV. GOOD FOR EVIL-- 40. The Blotted Copy-book 43 XVI. GENTLENESS-- 41. The Horse and the Child 45 42. The Overturned Fruit Stall 46 XVII. ON BEING GRATEFUL-- 43. Rose and her Birthday Present 47 44. The Boy who _was_ Grateful 47 XVIII. SELF-HELP-- 45. The Crow and the Pitcher 48 XIX. CONTENT-- 46. Harold and the Blind Man 49 XX. TIDINESS-- 47. The Slovenly Boy 50 48. Pussy and the Knitting 51 49. The Packing of the Trunks 53 XXI. MODESTY-- 50. The Violet 54 51. Modesty in Dress 55 XXII. ON GIVING PLEASURE TO OTHERS-- 52. "Selfless" and "Thoughtful". A Fairy Tale 56 53. The Bunch of Roses 56 54. Edwin and the Birthday Party 57 55. Davie's Christmas Present 59 XXIII. CLEANLINESS-- 56. Why we Should be Clean 61 57. Little Creatures who like to be Clean 62 58. The Boy who did not like to be Washed 63 59. The Nails and the Teeth 64 XXIV. PURE LANGUAGE-- 60. Toads and Diamonds. A Fairy Tale 66 XXV. PUNCTUALITY-- 61. Lewis and the School Picnic 67 XXVI. ALL WORK HONOURABLE-- 62. The Chimney-sweep 69 XXVII. BAD COMPANIONS-- 63. Playing with Pitch 70 64. Stealing Strawberries 71 XXVIII. ON FORGETTING-- 65. Maggie's Birthday Present 73 66. The Promised Drive 74 67. The Boy who Remembered 75 XXIX. KINDNESS TO ANIMALS-- 68. Lulu and the Sparrow 76 69. Why we Should be Kind to Animals 77 70. The Butterfly 78 71. The Kind-hearted Dog 78 XXX. BAD TEMPER-- 72. How Paul was Cured 79 73. The Young Horse 80 XXXI. SELFISHNESS-- 74. The Child on the Coach 82 75. Edna and the Cherries 82 76. The Boy who liked always to Win 83 77. The two Boxes of Chocolate 84 78. Eva 85 XXXII. CARELESSNESS-- 79. The Misfortunes of Elinor 86 XXXIII. ON BEING OBSTINATE-- 80. How Daisy's Holiday was Spoilt 87 XXXIV. GREEDINESS-- 81. Stephen and the Buns 89 XXXV. BOASTING-- 82. The Stag and his Horns 90 XXXVI. WASTEFULNESS-- 83. The Little Girl who was Lost 91 XXXVII. LAZINESS-- 84. The Sluggard 91 XXXVIII. ON BEING ASHAMED-- 85. The Elephant that Stole the Cakes 92 XXXIX. EARS AND NO EARS-- 86. Heedless Albert 94 87. Olive and Gertie 95 XL. EYES AND NO EYES-- 88. The Two Brothers 97 89. Ruby and the Wall 98 XLI. LOVE OF THE BEAUTIFUL-- 90. The Daisy 99 XLII. ON DESTROYING THINGS-- 91. Beauty and Goodness 100 XLIII. ON TURNING BACK WHEN WRONG-- 92. The Lost Path 101 XLIV. ONE BAD "STONE" MAY SPOIL THE "TEMPLE"-- 93. Intemperance 103 2.--MANNERS. XLV. PRELIMINARY STORY LESSON-- 94. The Watch and its Springs 104 XLVI. ON SAYING "PLEASE" AND "THANK YOU"-- 95. Fairy Tale of Alec and his Toys 105 XLVII. ON BEING RESPECTFUL-- 96. Story Lesson 108 XLVIII. PUTTING FEET UP-- 97. Alice and the Pink Frock 109 XLIX. BANGING DOORS-- 98. How Maurice came Home from School 110 99. Lulu and the Glass Door 111 L. PUSHING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE-- 100. The Big Boy and the Little Lady 112 LI. KEEPING TO THE RIGHT-- 101. Story Lesson 113 LII. CLUMSY PEOPLE-- 102. Story Lesson 114 LIII. TURNING ROUND WHEN WALKING-- 103. The Girl and her Eggs 115 LIV. ON STARING-- 104. Ruth and the Window 116 LV. WALKING SOFTLY-- 105. Florence Nightingale 117 LVI. ANSWERING WHEN SPOKEN TO-- 106. The Civil Boy 118 LVII. ON SPEAKING LOUDLY-- 107. The Woman who Shouted 119 LVIII. ON SPEAKING WHEN OTHERS ARE SPEAKING-- 108. Margery and the Picnic 120 LIX. LOOK AT PEOPLE WHEN SPEAKING TO THEM-- 109. Fred and his Master 122 LX. ON TALKING TOO MUCH-- 110. Story Lesson 122 LXI. GOING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE-- 111. Minnie and the Book 124 112. The Man and his Luggage 124 LXII. WHEN TO SAY "I BEG YOUR PARDON"-- 113. Story Lesson 125 114. The Lady and the Poor Boy 126 LXIII. RAISING CAP-- 115. Story Lesson 126 LXIV. ON OFFERING SEAT TO LADY-- 116. Story Lesson 127 LXV. ON SHAKING HANDS-- 117. Reggie and the Visitors 129 LXVI. KNOCKING BEFORE ENTERING A ROOM-- 118. The Boy who Forgot 130 LXVII. HANGING HATS UP, ETC.-- 119. Careless Percy 130 LXVIII. HOW TO OFFER SWEETS, ETC.-- 120. How Baby did it 132 LXIX. YAWNING, COUGHING AND SNEEZING-- 121. Story Lesson 132 LXX. HOW A SLATE SHOULD NOT BE CLEANED-- 122. Story Lesson 133 LXXI. THE POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF-- 123. Story Lesson 135 LXXII. HOW TO BEHAVE AT TABLE-- 124. (On Sitting Still at Table.) Phil's Disaster 136 125. (On Sitting Still at Table.) Fidgety Katie 136 126. (Thinking of Others at Table.) The Helpful Little Girl 137 127. (Upsetting Things at Table.) Leslie and the Christmas Dinner 138 128. Cherry Stones 138 LXXIII. ON EATING AND DRINKING-- 129. Rhymes 140 130. Rhymes 141 LXXIV. FINALE-- 131. How another Queen Builded 142 LIST OF SUBJECTS ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED. 1.--MORAL SUBJECTS. PAGE All Work Honourable 69 Ashamed, On being 92 Bad Companions 70 Boasting 90 Brave, On being 32 Carelessness 86 Cleanliness 61 Content 49 Copying 20 Destroying Things, On 100 Ears and no Ears 94 Exaggeration 16 Eyes and no Eyes 97 Fairy Temple 1 Finding Things 22 Forgetting 73 Forgiveness 43 Generous, On being 41 Gentleness 45 Giving In, On 40 Giving Pleasure to Others, On 56 Good for Evil 43 Grateful, On being 47 Greediness 89 Help one Another 29 Honesty 17 How another Queen Builded 142 Intemperance 103 Introductory Story 1 Kindness 23 Kindness to Animals 76 Laziness 91 Love of the Beautiful 99 Loyalty 10 Modesty 54 Nails, The 64 Obedience 4 Obstinate, On being 87 Patience 38 Punctuality 67 Pure Language 66 Self-Help 48 Selfishness 82 Teeth, The 65 Thoughtfulness 27 Tidiness 50 Truthfulness 12 Try, Try Again 35 Turning Back when Wrong 101 Wastefulness 91 2.--MANNERS. Answering when Spoken To 118 Banging Doors 110 Cherry Stones (see "How to Behave at Table") 138 Clumsy People 114 Coughing 132 Eating and Drinking, On 140 Excuse Me, Please (see "Going in Front of People") 124 Going in Front of People 124 Hanging Hats Up, etc. 130 How to Behave at Table 136 "I Beg Your Pardon," When to say 125 Keeping to the Right 113 Knocking Before Entering a Room 130 Look at People when Speaking to Them 122 Manners 104 Offering Seat to Lady 127 Offer Sweets, How to 132 "Please," On Saying 105 Pocket-handkerchief, The 135 Preliminary Story Lesson 104 Pushing in Front of People 112 Putting Feet Up 109 Raising Cap 126 Respectful, On being 108 Shaking Hands, On 129 Sitting Still at Table, On 136 Sneezing 132 Speaking Loudly, On 119 Speaking when Others are Speaking, On 120 Spitting (see "How a Slate Should Not be Cleaned") 133 Staring, On 116 Talking Too Much, On 122 "Thank You," On Saying 105 Thinking of Others at Table 137 Turning Round when Walking 115 Upsetting Things at Table (see "Leslie and the Christmas Dinner") 138 Walking Softly 117 Yawning 132 1.--MORAL SUBJECTS. I. INTRODUCTORY STORY. 1. The Fairy Temple. (The following story should be read to the children =first=, as it forms a kind of groundwork for the Story Lessons which follow.) It was night--a glorious, moonlight night, and in the shade of the leafy woods the Queen of the fairies was calling her little people together by the sweet tones of a tinkling, silver bell. When they were all gathered round, she said: "My dear children, I am going to do a great work, and I want you all to help me". At this the fairies spread their wings and bowed, for they were always ready to do the bidding of their Queen. They were all dressed in lovely colours, of a gauzy substance, finer than any silk that ever was seen, and their names were called after the colours they wore. The Queen's robe was of purple and gold, and glittered grandly in the moonlight. "I have determined," said the Queen, "to build a Temple of precious stones, and =your= work will be to bring me the material." "Rosy-wings," she continued, turning to a little fairy clad in delicate pink, and fair as a rose, "you shall bring rubies." "Grass-green," to a fairy dressed in green, "your work is to find emeralds; and Shiny-wings, you will go to the mermaids and ask them to give you pearls." Now there stood near the Queen six tiny, fairy sisters, whose robes were whiter and purer than any. The sisters were all called by the same name--"Crystal-clear," and they waited to hear what their work was to be. "Sisters Crystal-clear," said the Queen, "you shall all of you bring diamonds; we shall need so many diamonds." There was another fairy standing there, whose robe seemed to change into many colours as it shimmered in the moonlight, just as you have seen the sky change colour at sunset, and to her the Queen said, "Rainbow-robe, go and find the opal". Then there were three other fairy sisters called "Gold-wings," who were always trying to help the other fairies, and to do good to everybody, and the Queen told them to bring fine gold to fasten the precious stones together. These are not =all= the fairies who were there; some others wore blue, some yellow, and the Queen gave them all their work. Then she rang a tiny, silver bell, and they all spread their wings and bowed before they flew away to do her bidding. After many days the fairies came together to bring their precious treasures to the Queen. How they carried them I scarcely know, but there was a little girl, many years ago, who often paused at the window of a jeweller's shop to gaze at a tiny, silver boy, with silver wings, wheeling a silver wheel-barrow full of rings, and the little girl thought that perhaps the fairies carried things in the same way. Anyhow, they all came to the Queen bringing their burdens, and she soon set to work on the Temple. "The foundations must be laid with diamonds," said the Queen. "Where are the six sisters? Ah! here they come with the lovely, shining diamonds, which are like themselves, 'clear as crystal'. Now little Gold-wings, bring =your= treasure," and the three little sisters brought the finest of gold. So the work went merrily on, and the fairies danced in glee as they saw the glittering Temple growing under the clever hands of the Queen. She made the doors of pearls and the windows of rubies, and the roof she said should be of opal, because it would show many colours when the light played upon it. At last the lovely building was finished, and after the fairies had danced joyfully round it in a ring again and again, until they could dance no longer, they gathered in a group round the dear Queen, and thanked her for having made so beautiful a Temple. "It is quite the loveliest thing in the world, I am sure," said Rosy-wings. "Not quite," replied the Queen, "mortals have it in their power to make a lovelier Temple than ours." "Who are 'mortals'?" asked Shiny-wings. "Boys and girls are mortals," said the Queen, "and grown-up people also." "I have never seen mortals build anything half so pretty as our Temple," said Grass-green; "their houses are made of stone and brick." "Ah! Grass-green," answered the Queen, smiling, "you have never seen the Temple I am speaking of, but it =is= better than ours, for it lasts--lasts for ever. Wind and rain, frost and snow, will spoil our Temple in time; but the Temple of the mortals lives on, and is never destroyed." "Do tell us about it, dear Queen," said all the fairies; "we will try to understand." "It is called by rather a long word," said the Queen, "its name is 'character'; =that= is what the mortals build, and the stones they use are more precious than our stones. I will tell you the names of some of them. First there is =Truth=, clear and bright like the diamonds; that must be the foundation; no good character can be made without Truth." Then the sisters Crystal-clear smiled at each other and said, "We brought diamonds for truth". "There are =Honesty=, =Obedience=, and many others," continued the Queen, "and =Kindness=, which is like the pure gold that was brought by Gold-wings, and makes a lovely setting for all the other stones." The little fairies were glad to hear all this about the Temple which the mortals build, and Gold-wings said that she would like above everything to be able to help boys and girls to make their Temple beautiful, and the other fairies said the same; so the Queen said they all might try to help them, for each boy and girl =must= build a Temple, and the name of that Temple is Character. II. OBEDIENCE. 2. The Two Voices. There was once a little boy who said that whenever he was going to do anything wrong he heard two voices speaking to him. Do you know what he meant? Perhaps this story will help you. The boy's name was Cecil. Cecil's father had a very beautiful and rare canary, which had been brought far over the sea as a present to him. Cecil often helped to feed the canary and give it fresh water, and sometimes his father would allow him to open the door of the cage, and the bird would come out and perch on his hand, which delighted Cecil very much, but he was not allowed to open the door of the cage unless his father was with him. One day, however, Cecil came to the cage alone, and while he watched the canary, a little voice said, "Open the door and take him out; father will never know". That was a =wrong= voice, and Cecil tried not to listen. It would have been better if he had gone away from the cage, but he did not; and the voice came again, "Open the door and let him out". And another little voice said, "No, don't; your father said you must not". But Cecil listened to the =wrong= voice; he opened the door gently, and out flew the pretty bird. First it perched on his finger, then it flew about the room, and then--Cecil had not noticed that the window was open--then, before he knew, out of the window flew the canary, and poor Cecil burst into tears. "Oh! if I had listened to the =good= voice, the =right= voice, and not opened the door! Father will be so angry." Then the =bad= voice came again and said, "Don't tell your father; say you know nothing about it ". But Cecil did not listen this time; he was too brave a boy to tell his father a lie, and he determined to tell the truth and be punished, if necessary. Of course his father was very sorry to lose his beautiful canary, and more sorry still that his little son had been disobedient, but he was glad that Cecil told him the truth. Now do you know the two things that the =wrong= voice told Cecil to do? It told him (1) Not to obey; (2) Not to tell the truth. I think we have all heard those two voices, not with our ears, but =within= us. Let us always listen to the =good= voice--the =right= voice. (Blackboard Sketch.) Two voices:-- 1st. Good, says, "Obey," "Speak the truth". 2nd. Bad, says, "Disobey," "Tell untruth". (WHY WE SHOULD OBEY.) 3. The Pilot. You know that the country in which you live is an island? That means there is water all round it, and that water is the sea. England and Scotland are joined together in one large island; and if you want to go to any other country, you must sail in a ship. A great many ships come to England, bringing us tea, coffee, sugar, oranges and many other things, and the towns they come to are called =ports=. London is a port, so is Liverpool; and in the North of England is another port called Hull. To get to Hull from the sea we have to sail up a wide river called the Humber for more than twenty miles. This river has a great many sandbanks in it, and there are men called =pilots= who know just where these sandbanks lie, and they are the ones who can guide the ships safely into port. One day there was a captain who brought his ship into the river, and said to himself, "I do not want the pilot on board, I can guide the ship myself". So he did not hoist the "union jack" on the foremast head, which means "Pilot come on board"; and the pilot did not come. For a little time the good ship sailed along all right, but presently they found that she was not moving at all. What had happened? The ship was stuck fast on a sandbank, and the foolish captain wished now that he had taken the pilot on board. First he had to go out in the little boat and fetch a "tug-boat" to pull the ship off the sandbank, and then he was glad enough to have the pilot on board, and to let him guide the ship just as he liked. Why could not the captain guide the ship? Because he did not know the way. Have you ever known children who did not like to do as they were told? who thought that =they= knew best--better than father or mother? They are like the foolish captain, who tried to guide his ship when he did not know the way. Fathers and mothers are like the pilot, who knew which was the best way to take; and wise children are willing to be guided, for =they= do not know the way any more than the captain did. (Blackboard.) =Why= do we obey? Because we do not Know the Way. The story and its teaching may be further impressed on the minds of the children by a sand lesson:-- Place a blackboard or large piece of oil-cloth on the floor, and make an "island" in sand, and in the "island" form a large "estuary," with little heaps of sand dotted about in it, to represent sandbanks. The sailors cannot =see= the sandbanks, for they are all covered with water in the =real= river, so we will take a duster and spread it over these sandbanks. Now, take a tiny boat and ask one of the children to sail it up the river, keeping clear of the sandbanks. The children will soon see that it cannot be done, and the "blackboard" lesson may be again enforced. (WHY WE SHOULD OBEY.) 4. The Dog that did not like to be Washed.[1] A lady once had a dog of which she was very fond. The dog was fond of his mistress also, and loved to romp by her side when she was out walking, or to lie at her feet as she sat at work. But the dog had one serious fault--he did not like to be washed, and he was so savage when he =was= put into the bath, that at last none of the servants dare do it. The lady decided that she would not take any more notice of the dog until he was willing to have his bath quietly, so she did not take him out with her for walks, nor allow him to come near her in the house. There were no pattings, no caresses, no romps, and he began to look quite wretched and miserable. You see the dog did not like his mistress to be vexed with him, and he felt very unhappy--so unhappy that at last he could bear it no longer. Then one morning he crept quietly up to the lady and gave her a look which she knew quite well meant, "I cannot bear this any longer; I will be good". So he was put in the bath, and though he had to be scrubbed very hard--for by this time he was unusually dirty--he stood still quite patiently, and when it was all over, he bounded to his mistress with a joyous bark and a wag of the tail, as much as to say, "It is all right now". After this he was allowed to go for walks as usual, and was once more a happy dog, and he never objected to his bath afterwards. The dog could not bear to grieve his mistress; and how much more should children be sorry to grieve kind father and mother, who do so much for them. (Blackboard.) =Why= we obey:-- 1. Because the "Good Voice" tells us. 2. Because we do not Know the Way. 3. Because it gives Pleasure to Father and Mother. (READY OBEDIENCE.[2]) 5. Robert and the Marbles. A little boy named Robert was having a game at marbles with a number of other boys, and it had just come his turn to play. He meant to win, and was carefully aiming the marble, when he heard his mother's voice calling, "Robert, I want you". Quick as thought the marbles were dropped into his pocket, and off he ran to see what mother wanted. (Blackboard.) Robert Obeyed Readily, Cheerfully, Quickly. (UNREADY, SULKY OBEDIENCE.) 6. Jimmy and the Overcoat. I was in a house one day where a boy was getting ready to go to school. His bag was slung over his shoulder, and he was just reaching his cap from the peg, when his mother said, "Put on your overcoat, Jimmy; it is rather cold this morning". Oh, what a fuss there was! How he argued with his mother, "It was not cold; he hated overcoats. Could he not take it over his arm, or put it on in the afternoon?" Many more objections he made, and when at last he =had= put it on, he went out grumbling, and slammed the door after him. Can you guess how his mother felt? "Unhappy," you will say. And do you think it is right, dear children, to make mother unhappy? I am sure you do not. Little child with eyes so blue, What has mother done for you? Taught your little feet to stand, Led you gently by the hand, And in thousand untold ways Guarded you through infant days: Do not think that =you= know best, Just obey, and leave the rest. You see Jimmy thought that he knew better than his mother, but he did not. Children need to be guided like the boat in the Humber (Story Lesson 3), for they are not very wise; and when we obey, we are building up our Temple with beautiful stones. (Blackboard.) =Two= kinds of Obedience:-- 1. Ready, Cheerful-Robert. 2. Unready, Sulky-Jimmy. Which do you like best? FOOTNOTES: [1] _Animal Intelligence_, Romanes. [2] Games Nos. 16 and 20 in "Games Without Music" illustrate above Story Lesson. III. LOYALTY. 7. Rowland and the Apple Tart. Perhaps you have never heard the word Loyalty before, and maybe Rowland had not either, but he knew what it meant, and tried to practise it. Rowland was not a very strong little boy, and he could not eat so many different kinds of food as some children can, for some of them made him sick. Among other things he was forbidden to take pastry. His mother, who loved him very dearly, had one day said to him, "Rowland, my boy, I cannot always be with you, but I trust you to do what I wish," and Rowland said he would try always to remember. One time he was invited to go and stay with his cousins, who lived in a fine old house in the country. They were strong, healthy, rosy children, quite a contrast to their delicate little cousin, and perhaps they were a little rough and rude as well. There was a large apple tart for dinner one day, and when Rowland said, "I do not wish for any, Auntie, thank you," his cousins looked at him in surprise, and the eldest said scornfully, "I am glad that =I= am not delicate," and the next boy remarked, "What a fad!" while the third muttered "Baby". This was all very hard to bear, and when his Aunt said, "I am sure a little will not hurt you," Rowland felt very much inclined to give in, but he remembered that his mother trusted him, and he remained true to her wishes. This is Loyalty, doing what is right even when there is no one there to see. (Blackboard.) Be True or Loyal when no eyes are upon you. IV. TRUTHFULNESS. (DIRECT UNTRUTH.) 8. Lucy and the Jug of Milk. "Lucy," said her mother, "just run to the dairy and fetch a pint of milk for me, here is the money; and do remember, child, to look where you are going, so that you do not stumble and drop the jug." I am afraid Lucy was a little like another girl you will hear of (Story Lesson 103); she was too fond of staring about, and perhaps rather careless. However, she went to the dairy and bought the milk, and had returned half-way home without any mishap, when she met a flock of sheep coming down the road, followed by a large sheep-dog. Lucy stood on the pavement to watch them pass; it was such fun to see the sheep-dog scamper from one side to the other, and the timid sheep spring forward as soon as the dog came near them. So far the milk was safe; but, after the sheep had passed, Lucy thought she would just turn round to have one more peep at them, and oh, dear, her foot tripped against a stone, and down she fell, milk, and jug, and all, and the jug was smashed to pieces. Lucy was in great trouble, and as she stood there and looked at the broken jug, and the milk trickling down the gutter, she cried bitterly. A big boy who was passing by at the time, and had seen the accident, came across the road and said to her: "Don't cry, little girl, just run home and tell your mother that the sheep-dog bounced up against you and knocked the jug out of your hand; then you will not be punished". Lucy dried her eyes quickly, and gazed at the boy in astonishment. "Tell my mother a =lie=!" said she; "=no=, I would rather be punished a dozen times than do so. I shall tell her the truth," and she walked away home. Lucy was careless, but she was not untruthful; surely the boy must have felt ashamed! You remember the Fairy Queen said that =Truth= was the foundation of our beautiful Temple (Story Lesson 1), and the building will all tumble down in ruins if we do not have a strong foundation, so we must be brave to bear punishment (as Lucy was) if we deserve it, and be sure to (Blackboard) Tell the Truth Whatever it Costs. (UNTRUTH, BY NOT SPEAKING.) 9. Mabel and Fritz. This is a story of a dear little curly-headed girl called Mabel, whom everybody loved. She was so bright, and happy, and good-tempered, one could not help loving her, and when you looked into her clear, blue eyes, you could see that she was a frank, truthful child, who had nothing to hide, for she tried to listen to the Good Voice, and do what was right. One day Mabel was having a romp with her little dog, Fritz, in the kitchen. Up and down she chased him, and away he went, jumping over the chairs, hiding under the dresser, always followed by Mabel, until at last he leaped on the table, and in trying to make him come down, Mabel and the dog together overturned a tray full of clean, starched linen that was on the table. Mabel had been giving Fritz some water to drink a little before this, and in doing so had spilt a good deal on the floor, so the clean cuffs and collars rolled over in the wet, and were quite spoiled. Mabel's mother happened to come in just when the tray fell with a bang, and as the dog jumped down from the table at the same moment she thought he had done it, and Mabel did not tell that she was in fault, so poor Fritz was chained up in his kennel, and kept without dinner as a punishment. Mabel felt sad about it all the rest of the day, and when she was put to bed at night, and mamma had left her, she did not go to sleep as usual, but tossed about on the pillow, until her little curly head was quite hot and tired. Then she began to cry. Mabel was listening to the Good Voice now, and it said, "Oh, Mabel, =you= helped Fritz to overturn the tray, and =he= got all the blame, how mean of you!" Mabel sobbed louder when she thought of herself as being mean, and her mother hearing the noise came to see what was the matter. Then Mabel confessed all, and her mother said, "Perhaps my little girl did not know that we could be untruthful =by not speaking at all=, but you see it is quite possible". I do not think Mabel ever forgot the lesson which she learnt that (Blackboard) There can be Untruth without Words. (UNTRUTH, BY NOT TELLING ALL.) 10. A Game of Cricket. Two boys were playing at bat and ball in a field. There was a high hedge on one side of the field, and on the other side of the hedge was a market garden, where things are grown to be afterwards sold in the market. The boys had been playing some time, when the "batter," giving the ball a very hard blow, sent it over the hedge, and =both= the boys heard a loud crash as of breaking glass. They picked up the wickets quickly, and carried them, with the bat, to a hut that stood in the field, and were hurrying away when the gardener came and stopped them, asking, "Have you sent a cricket-ball over the hedge into my cucumber frame?" The boy who had struck the ball answered, "I did not see a ball go into your frame," and the other boy said, "Neither did I". They did not =see= the ball break the glass, but they both =knew= that it had crashed into the frame, and though the words they spoke might be true, the lie was there all the same. Supposing the sisters "Crystal-clear" had brought to the Fairy Queen a diamond that was only good on one side, do you think she would have put it in the Temple? No, indeed, she would have said it was only =half= true; and so we must put away anything that =looks= like truth, but is not truth. How wrong it is to make believe we have not done a thing, when all the time we have. Dear children, be true all through! Have you ever seen a glass jar of pure honey, no bits of wax floating in it, all clear and pure? Let your heart be like that, =sincere=, which means "without wax, clear and pure". (Blackboard.) A Half-truth is as Hateful as a Lie. (UNTRUTH, BY "STRETCHING"--EXAGGERATION.) 11. The Three Feathers. One day three little girls were talking about hats and feathers. The first girl said: "I have such a long feather in my best hat; it goes all down one side". Then the next girl said: "Oh! =my= feather is longer than that, for it goes all round the hat"; and the third girl said: "Ah! but =my= feather is longer than either of yours, for it goes round the hat and hangs down behind as well". On the next Sunday each of these little girls went walking in the park with her parents, wearing her best hat with the wonderful feather; it never occurred to =one= of them that she might meet the other two, but that is just what happened, and the three "long" feathers proved to be nothing but three =short=, little feathers, one in each hat! Can you guess how =ashamed= each girl felt? You have seen a piece of elastic stretched out. How =long= you can make it, and how =short= it goes when you leave off stretching! Each girl wanted to be better than the other, and to =appear= so, each "stretched" the story of her feather, just as the length of elastic was stretched, forgetting that (Blackboard) When we "Stretch" a Story, we do not Speak the Truth. V. HONESTY. 12. Lulu and the Pretty Coloured Wool. The little children who went to school long years ago did not have pretty things to play with as you have--no kindergarten balls with bright colours, nor nice bricks with which to build houses and churches! There was a little girl named Lulu who went to a dame's school in those far-off days, and most of the time she had to sit knitting a long, grey stocking, though she was only six years old. Some of the older girls were sewing on canvas with pretty coloured wools, and making (what appeared to little Lulu) most beautiful pictures. How she longed for a length of the pink or blue wool to have for her very own! The school was in a room upstairs, and at the head of the stair there was a window, with a deep window-sill in front of it. As Lulu came out of the schoolroom one day to take a message for the teacher, and turned to close the door after her, she saw (oh, lovely sight!) that the window-sill was piled up with bundles of the pretty coloured wool that she liked so much. Oh! how she wished for a little of it! And, see, there is some rose-pink wool on the top, cut into lengths ready for the girls to sew with! It is too much for poor little Lulu; she draws out one! two! three lengths of the wool, folds it up hastily, puts it in her pocket, and runs down the stair on the errand she has been sent. But is she happy? Oh, no! for a little Voice says: "Lulu, you are stealing; the wool is not yours!" For a few minutes the wool rests in her pocket, and then she runs back up the stair; the schoolroom door is still closed as Lulu draws the wool from her pocket, and gently puts it back on the window-sill. Then she takes the message and returns to her place in the schoolroom, and to the knitting of her long stocking, hot and ashamed at the thought of what she has done, but glad in her heart that she listened to the Good Voice, and did not keep the wool. Had any one seen her? Did any one know about it? Yes, there were loving Eyes watching little Lulu, and the One who looked down was very glad when she listened to the Good Voice. Do you know who it was? God our Father sees us all, Boys and girls, and children small; When we listen to His voice, Angels in their songs rejoice. Have _you_ heard that voice, dear child, Speaking in you, gentle, mild? Always listen and obey, For it leads you the right way. (Blackboard.) Do not Take what is not Yours. _Note._--To the mother or teacher who can read between the lines, this little story (which is not imaginary, but a true record of fact) bears another meaning. It shows the child's passionate love for objects that are pretty, especially coloured objects, and how the withholding of these may open the way to temptation. Let the child's natural desire be gratified, and supply to it freely coloured wools, beads, etc., at the same time teaching the right use of them, according to kindergarten[3] principles. (TAKING LITTLE THINGS.) 13. Carl and the Lump of Sugar. There are some people who think that taking =little= things is not stealing. But it =is=. There was a little boy, named Carl, who began his wrong-doing by taking a piece of sugar. Then he took another piece, and another; but he always did it when his mother was not looking. We always want to hide the doing of wrong--we feel so ashamed. One day Carl's mother sent him to the shop for something, and he kept a halfpenny out of the change. His mother did not notice it; she never thought her little boy would steal. So it went on from bad to worse, until one day he stole a shilling from a boy in the school, and was expelled. As Carl grew older he took larger sums, and you will not be surprised to hear that in the end he was sent to prison, and nearly broke his mother's heart. 14. Lilie and the Scent. Lilie's cousin had a bottle of scent given to her, and it had such a pleasant smell that one day, when Lilie was alone in the room, she thought she would like a little, so she unscrewed the stopper, and sprinkled a few drops on her handkerchief. I do not suppose her cousin would have been angry if she had known, but Lilie knew the scent was not hers, and she was miserable the moment she had taken it, and had no peace until she confessed the fault, and asked her cousin's forgiveness. I wish Carl had felt like that about the piece of sugar; do not you? Then he would never have taken the larger things, and been sent to prison. (Blackboard.) Little Wrongs Lead to Greater Wrongs. Carl--Sugar--Money--Prison. 15. Copying. It was the Christmas examination at school, and the boys were all at their desks ready for the questions in arithmetic. Will Jones's desk was next Tom Hardy's, and everybody thought that =one= of these two boys would win the prize. As soon as the questions had been given out, the boys set to work. Tom did all his sums on a scrap of paper first, then he copied them out carefully, and, after handing his paper to the master, left the room. Unfortunately he left the scrap of paper on which he had worked his sums lying on the desk. Will snatched it up, and looked to see if his answers were the same. No! two were different. Tom's would be sure to be right; so he copied the sums from Tom's scrap of paper. It was stealing, of course; just as much stealing as if he had taken Tom's pen or knife. Besides, it is so mean to let some one else do the work and then steal it from them--even the =birds= know that. Some little birds were building themselves a nest, and to save the trouble of gathering materials, they went and took some twigs and other things from =another bird's nest= that was being built. But when the old birds saw what the little ones had done, they set to work and pulled the nest all to pieces. That was to teach them to go and find their =own= twigs and sticks, and not to steal from others. Of course Will was not happy. There was a little Voice within that would not let him rest, and when the boys kept talking about the arithmetic prize, and wondering who would get it, he felt as though he would like to go and hide somewhere, he was so ashamed. That is one of the results of wrong-doing, as we said before--it always makes us ashamed. At last the day came when the master would tell who were the prize-winners. The boys were all sitting at their desks listening as the master read out these words:-- "Tom Hardy and Will Jones have all their sums right, but as Will's paper is the neater of the two, =he= will take the first prize". The boys clapped their hands, but Will was not glad. The Voice within spoke louder and louder, so loudly that Will was almost afraid some of the other boys would hear it, and his face grew red and hot. At last he determined to obey the Good Voice and tell the truth, so he rose from his seat, walked up to the master, and said: "Please, sir, the prize does not belong to me, for I stole two of my answers from Tom Hardy. I am very sorry." The master was greatly surprised, but he could see that Will was very sorry and unhappy. He held out his hand to him, and said: "I am glad, Will, that you have been brave enough to confess this. It will make you far happier than the prize would have done, seeing that you had not honestly won it." So the prize went to Tom, and Will was never guilty of copying again; he remembered too well the unhappiness that followed it. (Blackboard.) Copying is Stealing. 16. On Finding Things. When Lulu reached her fifteenth birthday she had a watch given to her. One afternoon she was walking through a wood, up a steep and rocky path, and when she reached the top she stood for a few moments to rest. Looking back down the wood she saw a boy coming by the same path, and when about half-way up he stooped down as if to raise something from the ground, but the thought did not occur to Lulu that it might be anything belonging to her. When she was rested she walked on until she came to a house just outside the wood, where she was to take tea with a friend. After tea they sat and worked until the sun began to go down. Then Lulu said, "I think I must be going home; I will see what time it is," and she was going to take out her watch, when, alas! she found it was gone. "Oh, dear!" said she, "what shall I do? How careless of me to put it in my belt; it was a present from my brother!" Then she suddenly remembered standing at the top of the path and seeing the boy pick something up. "That would be my watch," said she. And so it was. The boy had followed her up the wood, and had seen her go into the house, but he did not give up the watch. He waited until some bills were posted offering a reward of £1, then he brought the watch and took the sovereign. If he had been an honest boy he would not have waited, but would have given up the watch at once. We ought not to wish any reward for doing what is right. It is quite enough to have the happiness that comes from obeying the Good Voice. We cannot build up a good character without honesty. Do right because you =love= the right, And not for hope of gain; A conscience pure is rich reward, But doing wrong brings pain. (Blackboard.) When you Find Anything, try to Discover the Owner, and give it up at once. FOOTNOTE: [3] _Kindergarten Guide_, published by Messrs. Longmans. VI. KINDNESS. 17. Squeaking Wheels. A lady was one day taking a walk along a country lane, and just as she was passing the gate of a field a horse and cart came out, and went down the road in the same direction as she was going, and oh! how the wheels did squeak! The lady longed to get away from the sound of them. First she walked very quickly, hoping to get well ahead; but no, the horse hurried up too, and kept pace with her. Perhaps =he= disliked the squeaking, and wanted his journey to be quickly finished. Then she lingered behind, and sauntered along slowly, but squeak, squeak--the hateful sound was still there. At last the cart was driven down a lane to the right, and now the lady could listen to the songs of the birds, the humming of the bees, and the sweet rustle of the leaves as the wind played amongst them. "How much pleasanter," thought she, "are these sounds than the squeaking of the wheels." I wonder if you have ever seen any little children who make you think of those disagreeable wheels? They are children who do not like to lend their toys, or to play the games that their companions suggest, but who like, instead, to please themselves. Do you know what the wheels needed to make them go sweetly? They needed oil. And the disagreeable children who grate on us with their selfish, unkind ways, need =another= sort of oil--the oil of kindness. =That= will make things go sweetly; so we will write on the blackboard (Blackboard) Squeaking Wheels need Oil. Children need the Oil of Kindness. 18. Birds and Trees. Did you know that trees and birds, bees and flowers could be kind to each other? They =can=; I will tell you how. See the pretty red cherries growing on that tree. All little children like cherries, and the birds like them too. A little bird comes flying to the cherry tree and asks, "May I have one of these rosy little balls, please?" "Yes, little bird," says the cherry tree; "take some, by all means." So the bird has a nice fruit banquet with the cherries, and then, what do you think =he= does for the tree? "Oh!" you say, "a little bird cannot do =anything= that would help a big tree." But he can. When he has eaten the cherry he drops the stone, and sometimes it sinks into the ground, and from it a young cherry tree springs up. The tree could not do that for itself, so we see that (Blackboard) Birds and Trees are Kind to Each Other. 19. Flowers and Bees. When you have been smelling a tiger-lily, has any of the yellow dust ever rested on the tip of your nose? (Let the children see a tiger-lily, or a picture of one, if possible.) Look into the large cup of the lily, and there, deep down, you will see some sweet, delicious juice. What is it for? Ask the bee; she will tell you. Here she comes, and down goes her long tongue into the flower. "Ah! Mrs. Bee, the honey is for you, I see. And pray, what have you done for the flower? Nothing, I'm afraid." "Oh, yes, I have," hums the bee. "I brought her some flower-dust (pollen) on my back from another tiger-lily that I have been visiting to make her seeds grow. When I dip down into the flower some of the 'dust' clings to me, so I take it to the next tiger-lily that I visit, and she is very much obliged to me." You see, dear children, how the flowers help each other, and how the bee carries messages from one to another; so if (Blackboard) Birds and Trees, Flowers and Bees are Kind to Each Other, Much more should Children be Kind. 20. Lulu and the Bundle. Do you remember the story of "Lulu and the Wool"? This is a true tale of the same little girl when she was grown older. Lulu's home was at the top of a hill, and the road leading up to it was very steep. One summer evening, as Lulu walked home from town, she overtook a woman coming from market, and carrying a heavy basket as well as a bundle which was tied up in a blue checked handkerchief. The poor woman stopped to rest just as Lulu came up to her. "Let me carry your bundle," said Lulu. And before the woman could answer she had picked it up and was trudging along. "Perhaps your mother would not be pleased to see you carrying my bundle?" sighed the woman. "Some people think it is vulgar to be seen carrying parcels." "It is never vulgar to be kind," answered Lulu. "That is what mother would say." So they walked on until they came to the cottage, and Lulu left the grateful woman at her own door, and forgot all about it. Some years after, Lulu had been away from home, and, missing her train, she returned laden with parcels one dark, wet night. There was no one to meet her, no one to help to carry her parcels, and the rain was pouring down. She hurried outside to look for a cab, but there was not one to be had, so she began to walk up the hill. After going a very little way she stopped to rest, the parcels were so heavy; and just then a man came up and said: "Give me your parcels, miss, they seem too heavy for you". And Lulu, astonished, handed them to him. He carried them to the door of her mother's house, and hardly waited to hear the grateful thanks Lulu would have poured out. Have you ever heard these words: "Give, and it shall be given unto you". I think they came true in this little story. Do not you? Let us all try to build a good deal of the "pure gold" of Kindness into our "Temple". VII. THOUGHTFULNESS. 21. Baby Elsie and the Stool. If you place your hand on your head you will feel something hard just beneath the hair. What is it? It is bone. Pass your hand all over your head and you will still feel the bone. It is called the skull, and it covers up a wonderful thing called the brain, with which we think, and learn, and remember. A little baby girl was toddling about the room one afternoon while her mother sat sewing. The baby was a year and a half old. She had only just learned to walk, and could not talk much, but she had begun to think. Presently she noticed a little stool under the table, and after a great deal of trouble she managed to get it out. Can you guess what she wanted it for? (Let children try to answer.) She wanted it for mother's feet to rest upon. Elsie could not =say= this, but she dragged the stool until it was close to her mother, and then she patted it, and said "Mamma," which meant, "Put your feet on it". Was not that a sweet, kind thing for a one-year-old baby to do? You see she was learning to think--to think for others, and you will not be surprised to hear that she grew up to be a kind, helpful girl, and was so bright and happy that her mother called her "Sunshine". If any one asked me what kind of child I liked best, I believe the answer would be this: "A child who is thoughtful of others"; for a child who thinks of others will not be rude, or rough, or unkind. Who was it slammed the door when mother had a headache? It was a child who did not think. Who left his bat lying across the garden path so that baby tumbled over it and got a great bump on his little forehead? It was thoughtless Jimmy. Do not be thoughtless, dear children, for you cannot help hurting people, if you are thoughtless; and we are in the world to make it happy, =not= to =hurt=. Thoughtfulness is a lovely jewel; let us all try to build it into our "Temple". 22. The Thoughtful Soldier. A great soldier, Sir Ralph Abercromby, had been wounded in battle, and was dying. As they carried him on board the ship in a litter a soldier's blanket was rolled up and placed beneath his head for a pillow to ease his pain. "Whose blanket is this?" asked he. One of the soldiers answered that it only belonged to one of the men. "But I want to know the name of the man," said Sir Ralph. He was then told that the man's name was Duncan Roy, and he said: "Then see that Duncan Roy gets his blanket this very night". You see how thoughtful he was for the other man's comfort, so thoughtful that he did not wish to keep Duncan's blanket even though he himself was dying. Is it not true that "thoughtfulness" is one of the most beautiful of the precious stones that you build with. (Blackboard.) Be Thoughtful. VIII. HELP ONE ANOTHER. 23. The Cat and the Parrot.[4] A cat and a parrot lived in the same house, and were very kind and friendly towards each other. One evening there was no one in the kitchen except the bird and the cat. The cook had gone upstairs, leaving a bowl full of dough to rise by the fire. Before long the cat rushed upstairs, mewing and making signs for the cook to come down, then she jumped up and seized her apron, and tried to pull her along. What could be the matter, what had happened? Cook went downstairs to see, and there was poor Polly shrieking, calling out, flapping her wings, and struggling with all her might "up to her knees" in dough, and stuck quite fast. Of course the cook lifted the parrot out, and cleaned the dough from her legs, but if pussy had not been her kind friend, and run for help, she would have sunk farther and farther into the dough, and perhaps in the end would have been smothered. (Blackboard.) If a Cat can Help a Bird, surely Boys and Girls should Help Each Other. 24. The Two Monkeys.[5] A ship that was crossing the sea had two monkeys on board; one of them was larger and older than the other, though she was not the mother of the younger one. Now it happened one day that the little monkey fell overboard, and the bigger one was immediately very much excited. She had a cord tied round her waist, with which she had been fastened up, and what do you think she did? She scrambled down the outside of the ship, until she came to a ledge, then she held on to the ship with one hand, and with the other she held out the cord to the poor little monkey that was struggling in the water. Was not she a clever, thoughtful, kind monkey? The cord was just a little too short, so one of the sailors threw out a longer rope, which the little monkey grasped, and by this means she was brought safely on board. You will remember the story of the monkey, who tried to save her little friend, and remember, also, that (Blackboard) Children should Help One Another. 25. The Wounded Bird. There is a beautiful story about birds helping each other in a book[6] which you must read for yourselves when you grow older. One day a man was out with his gun, and shot a sea-bird, called a tern, which fell wounded into the sea, near the water's edge. The man stood and waited until the wind should blow the bird near enough for him to reach it, when, to his surprise, he saw two other terns fly down to the poor wounded bird and take hold of him, one at each wing, lift him out of the water, and carry him seawards. Two other terns followed, and when the first two had carried him a few yards and were tired, they laid him down gently and the next two picked him up, and so they went on carrying him in turns until they reached a rock a good way off, where they laid him down. The sportsman then made his way to the rock, but when they saw him coming, a whole swarm of terns came together, and just before he reached the place, two of them again lifted up the wounded bird and bore him out to sea. The man was near enough to have hindered this if he had wished, but he was so pleased to see the kindness of the birds that he would not take the poor creature from them. So we have learnt another lesson from the birds, and will write it down. (Blackboard.) Birds helped the Wounded Tern; we should Help Each Other. FOOTNOTES: [4] Romanes' _Animal Intelligence_. [5] Romanes' _Animal Intelligence_. [6] Smiles' _Life of Edward_. IX. ON BEING BRAVE. (BRAVE IN DANGER.) 26. How Leonard Saved his Little Brother. Have you ever known a little girl who cried whenever her face was washed? or a little boy who screamed each time he had a tumble, although he might not be hurt in the least? You would not call =those= brave children, would you? We say that people are brave when they are not afraid to face danger, like the men who go out in the life-boat when the sea is rough to try and save a crew from shipwreck; or the brave firemen who rescue the inmates of a burning house. Perhaps you think it is only grown-up people who can be brave, but that is not so; little children can be brave also, as you will see from this story of a little boy, about whom we read in the papers not long ago, and who lived not far from London. Some children were playing near a pool, when, by some means, one of them, a little boy named Arthur, three years old, fell in. All the children, except one, ran away. (=They= were not brave, were they?) The one who remained was little Arthur's brother, Leonard. He was only five years old, but he had a brave heart, and he went into the water at once, although he could not see Arthur, who had fallen on his back under the water, and was too frightened to get up. Leonard had seen where he fell, and though he did not know how deep the water was, he walked in, lifted his little brother up, and pulled him out. It was all done much more quickly than I have told you. If Leonard had run away to fetch some one, instead of doing what he could himself, his brother must have been drowned, because he was fast in the mud. I am sure you will say that =Leonard= was a brave little boy, and we should not think that =he= cries when he is washed, or when he has a little tumble. Leonard teaches us to (Blackboard) Be Brave in Danger. (BRAVE IN LITTLE THINGS.) 27. The Twins. What a fuss some children make when they are hurt ever so little, and if a finger should bleed how dreadfully frightened they are! A lady told me this story of two little twin boys whom she knew. Their names were Bennie and Joey, and they were just two years old. One day as they were playing together Bennie cut his finger, and the blood came out in little drops. Now, the twins had never seen blood before, and you will think, maybe, that Bennie began to cry; but he did not. He looked at his finger and said: "Oh! Joey, look! what is this?" "Don't know," said Joey, shaking his head. Then they both watched the bleeding finger for a little, and at last Bennie said: "I know, Joey; it is =gravy=". He had seen the gravy in the meat, and he thought this was something like it. Anyhow, it was better than crying and making a fuss, do you not think? (Blackboard.) Be Brave in Little Things. (BRAVE IN SUFFERING.) 28. The Broken Arm. It was recreation time, and the boys were pretending to play football, when a boy of six, named Robin, had an awkward fall and broke his arm. The teacher bound it up as well as she could, and Robin did not cry, though the poor arm must have pained him. He walked quietly through the streets with the teacher, who took him to the doctor to have the broken bone set, and when the doctor pulled his arm straight out to get the bones in place before he bound it up, Robin gave one little cry; that was all. He is now a grown-up man, but the teacher still remembers how brave he was when his arm was broken, and feels proud of her pupil. (Blackboard) Be Brave in Suffering. 29. The Brave Monkey.[7] Did you ever hear of a monkey having toothache? There was a monkey once who lived in a cage in some gardens in London, and he had a very bad toothache, which made a large swelling on his face. The poor creature was in such great pain that a dentist was sent for. (A dentist, tell the children, is a man who attends to teeth.) When the monkey was taken out of the cage he struggled, but as soon as the dentist placed his hand on the spot he was quite still. He laid his head down so that the dentist might look at his bad tooth, and then he allowed him to take it out without making any fuss whatever. There was a little girl once who screamed and struggled dreadfully when she was taken to have her hair cut, and that, you know, does not hurt at all. Let us learn from the monkey, as we did from Robin, to (Blackboard) Be Brave in Suffering. X. TRY, TRY AGAIN. 30. The Sparrow that would not be Beaten.[8] A sparrow was one day flying over a road when he saw lying there a long strip of rag. "Ah!" said he, "that would be nice for the nest we are building; I will take it home." So he picked up one end in his beak and flew away with it, but the wind blew the long streamer about his wings, and down he came, tumbling in the dust. Soon he was up again, and, after giving himself a little shake, he took the rag by the other end and mounted in the air. But again it entangled his wings, and he was soon on the ground. Next he seized it in the middle, but now there were =two= loose ends, and he was entangled more quickly than before. Then he stopped to think for a minute, and looked at the rag as much as to say: "What shall I do with you next"? An idea struck him. He hopped up to the rag, and with his beak and claws rolled it into a nice little ball. Then he drove his beak into it, shook his head once or twice to make sure that the ends were fast, and flew away in triumph. Remember the sparrow and the rag, and (Blackboard) Do not be Beaten, but Try, Try Again. 31. The Railway Train. If you had been a little child a hundred years ago, instead of now, and had wished to travel to the seaside or any other place, do you know how you would have got there? You would have had to travel in a coach, for there were no trains in those days. I am afraid the little children who lived then did not get to the seashore as often as you do, unless they lived near it, for it cost so much money to ride in the coaches. How is it that we have trains now? There was a man called George Stephenson--a poor man he was; he did not even know how to read until he went to a night school when he was eighteen years old, but he worked and worked at the steam-engine until he had made one that could draw a train along. So you see that because this man and others tried and tried again, all those years ago, we have the nice, quick trains to take us to the seaside cheaply, and to other places as well. Like the sparrow, George Stephenson teaches us to (Blackboard) Try, Try Again. 32. The Man who Found America. A long, long time ago the people in this country did not even know there =was= such a place as America; it was another "try, try again" man that found it out. His name was Christopher Columbus, and he thought there must be a country on the other side of that great ocean, if he could only get across. But it would take a good ship, and sailors, and money, and he had none of these. He was in a country called Spain, and he asked the king and queen to help him, but for a great while they did not. However, he waited and never gave it up, and at last the queen said he should go, and off he started with two or three ships and a number of sailors. It was more than two months before the new land appeared, and sometimes the sailors were afraid when it was very stormy, and wanted to turn back, but Columbus encouraged them to go on, and at last they saw the land. They all went on shore, and the first thing they did was to kneel down and thank God for bringing them safe to land; then they kissed the ground for very gladness, and wept tears of joy. When Columbus came home again, bringing gold, and cotton, and wonderful birds from the new country, he was received with great rejoicing by the king and queen and all the people. Do not forget this lesson:-- (Blackboard) Try, Try Again. FOOTNOTES: [7] Romanes' _Animal Intelligence_. [8] _Ibid._ XI. PATIENCE. 33. Walter and the Spoilt Page. Walter was busy doing his home lessons; he wanted to get them finished quickly, so that he could join his playmates at a game of cricket before it was time to go to bed. He was nearly at the end, and the page was just as neat as it could be--for Walter worked very carefully--when, in turning the paper over, he gave the pen which was in his hand a sharp jerk, and a great splash of ink fell in the very middle of the neat, clean page. "Oh, dear!" cried Walter, "all my work is wasted. I shall get no marks for this lesson unless I write it all over again; and I wanted so much to go out and have a game." However, he was a brave boy, and his mother was glad to notice that he set to work quietly, and soon had it written over again. When bedtime came, she said: "Walter, your accident with the ink made me think of a story. Shall I tell it to you?" "Oh, yes, mother! please do," said Walter, for he loved stories. 34. The Drawings Eaten by the Rats. "There was once a gentleman (Audubon) in America," said his mother, "who was very fond of studying birds. He would go out in the woods to watch them, and he also made sketches of them, and worked so hard that he had nearly a thousand of these drawings, which, of course, he valued very much. One time he was going away from home for some months, and before he went he collected all his precious drawings together, put them carefully in a wooden box, and gave them to a relative to take care of until he came back. "The time went by and he returned, and soon after asked for the box containing his treasures. The box was there, but what do you think? Two rats had found their way into it, and had made a home there for their young ones, and the beautiful drawings were all gnawed until nothing was left but tiny scraps of paper. You can guess how dreadfully disappointed the poor man would feel. But he tells us that in a few days he went out to the woods and began his drawings again as gaily as if nothing had happened; and he was pleased to think that he might now make better drawings than before. It was nearly three years before he had made up for what the rats had eaten. This man must have possessed the precious jewel of patience. Do you not think so?" "What is patience, mother?" asked Walter. "The little Scotch girl said it meant 'wait a wee, and no weary,'" said his mother; "and I think that is a very good meaning. It is like saying that we must wait, and do the work over again, if necessary, without getting vexed or worried." Patience is a good "stone" to have in the Temple of Character. (Blackboard.) Patience means:-- Wait, and not Weary. XII. ON GIVING IN. 35. Playing at Shop. You have often played at keeping shop, have you not? Winnie and May were very fond of this game, and when it was holiday time they played it nearly every day. One morning they made the "shop" ready as usual; a stool was to be the "counter," and upon this they placed the scales, with all the things they meant to sell. When all was ready, Winnie stood behind the "counter," and said, "I will be the 'shopman'!" "No!" exclaimed May, "=I= want to be 'shopman'; let me come behind the 'counter'." But Winnie would not move, then May tried to =pull= her away, and Winnie pushed May, and in the end both little girls were crying, and the game was spoilt. Were not they foolish? How easy it would have been to take it in turns to be "shopman," and that would have been quite fair to both little girls. I am afraid we sometimes =forget= to be =fair= in our games. We will tell Winnie and May the story of the two goats. 36. The Two Goats. Perhaps you know that goats like to live on the rocks, and as they have cloven feet (that is, feet that are split up the middle) they can walk in places that would not be at all safe for your little feet. One day two goats met each other on a narrow ledge of rock where there was not room to pass. Below them was a steep precipice; if they fell down there they would soon be dashed to pieces. How should they manage? It was now that one of the goats did a polite, kind, graceful act. She knelt down on the ledge so that the other goat might walk over her, and when this was done, she rose up and went on her way, so both the goats were safe and unhurt. The goat teaches us a beautiful lesson on "giving in". (Blackboard.) The Two Goats, Sometimes it is Noble to give Way. XIII. ON BEING GENEROUS. 37. Lilie and the Beggar Girl. You will think "generous" is a long word, but the stories will help you to understand what it means. Lilie was staying with her auntie, for her mother had gone on a voyage with father in his ship. One day Lilie heard a timid little knock at the back door. She ran to open it, and saw standing outside a poor little girl about her own size, with no shoes or stockings on. She asked for a piece of bread, and Lilie's auntie went into the pantry to cut it. While she was away Lilie noticed the little girl's bare feet, and, without thinking, she took off her own shoes and gave them to her. When the girl had gone, auntie asked, "Where are your shoes, Lilie?" And she replied, "I gave them to the little girl, auntie. I do not think mother would mind." It would have been better if Lilie had asked auntie before she gave away her shoes; but auntie did not scold her; she only said to herself, "What a generous little soul the child has". 38. Bertie and the Porridge. Bertie was a rosy-faced, healthy boy. His mother lived in a little cottage in the country, and she was too poor to buy dainties for her child, but the good, plain food he ate was quite enough to make him hearty and strong. His usual breakfast was a basin of porridge mixed with milk, and one bright, sunny morning he was sitting on the doorstep, waiting until it should be cool enough for him to eat, when he saw a very poor, old man leaning on the garden gate. Bertie felt sure the old man must be wanting something to eat, he looked so pale and thin, and being a generous-hearted boy, he carried down his basin of porridge to the old man, and asked him to eat it, which he did with great enjoyment, for he was very hungry. I think you will understand now what being Generous means. We may do good by giving away things that are of no use to us, but that is not being generous. (Blackboard.) We are Generous when we go without Things, that Others may have them. XIV. FORGIVENESS. 39. The Two Dogs.[9] One day two dogs had been quarrelling, and when they parted at night, they had not made it up, but went to rest, thinking hard things of each other, I fear. Next day, however, one of the dogs brought a biscuit to the other, and laid it down beside him, as much as to say, "Let us be friends". I think the other dog would be sure to forgive him after that, and we are sure they would both be much happier for being friends once more. (Blackboard.) If you Quarrel, make it up again. XV. GOOD FOR EVIL. 40. The Blotted Copy-book. Gladys and Dora were in the same class at school, and when the teacher promised to give a prize for the cleanest, neatest and best-written copy-book, they determined to try and win the prize. Both the little girls wrote their copies very carefully for several days, but by-and-by Gladys grew a little careless, and her copies were not so well written as Dora's. Gladys knew this quite well, and yet she longed for the prize. What should she do? There was only one copy more to be written, and then it would have to be decided who should get the prize. Sad to say, Gladys thought of a very mean way by which she might spoil Dora's chance of it. She went to school one morning very early--no one was there; softly she walked to Dora's desk, and drew out her neat, tidy copy-book, which she opened at the last page, and, taking a pen, she dipped it in ink, and splashed the page all over; then she put it back in the desk, and said to herself, "There, now, the prize will be mine". But why does Gladys feel so wretched all at once? A little Voice that you have often heard spoke in her heart, and said, "Oh! Gladys, how mean, how unkind!" and she could not =help= being miserable. Presently the school assembled, and when the writing lesson came round the teacher said, "Now, girls, take out your copy-books and finish them". Dora drew hers out, and when she opened it and saw the blots her cheeks grew scarlet and her eyes filled with tears. Just then she turned and saw Gladys glancing at her in an ashamed sort of way (as the elephant looked at his driver when he had stolen the cakes--Story Lesson 85), and Dora knew in her heart that it was Gladys who had spoilt her copy-book. But she did not tell any one, not even when the teacher said, "Oh! Dora, what a mess you have made on your nice copy-book!" but she was thinking all the time, and when she went home she said to her mother, "Mamma, may I give my little tin box with the flowers painted on it to Gladys?" "Why, Dora," said her mother, "I thought you were very fond of that pretty box!" "So I am," replied Dora, "that is why I want Gladys to have it; please let me give it to her, mother!" So Dora's mother consented, and next morning Gladys found a small parcel on her desk, with a scrap of paper at the top, on which was written, "Gladys, with love from Dora". Dora was generous, you see; she returned good for evil, and Gladys felt far more sorrow for her fault than she would have done had Dora caused her to be punished. Neither Gladys nor Dora won the prize, but Gladys learnt a lesson that was worth more than many prizes, and Dora had a gladness in her heart that was better than a prize--the gladness that comes from listening to the Good Voice. "Good for Evil" is a beautiful "stone" to have in your Temple. (Blackboard.) It is Generous to Return Good for Evil. FOOTNOTE: [9] Romanes' _Animal Intelligence_. XVI. GENTLENESS. 41. The Horse and the Child. Gentleness is a beautiful word, and I daresay you know what it means. When you are helping baby to walk, mother will say, "Be =gentle= with her," which means, "Do not be rough, do not hurt her". A =gentleman= is a man who is gentle, who will not =hurt=. Did you ever hear of a horse who could behave like a gentleman? Here is the story.[10] "A horse was drawing a cart along a narrow lane in Scotland when it spied a little child playing in the middle of the road. What do you think the kind, gentle horse did? It took hold of the little child's clothes with its teeth, lifted it up, and laid it gently on the bank at the side of the road, and then it turned its head to see that the cart had not hurt the child in passing. Did not the horse behave like a gentleman?" I have seen boys and girls helping the little ones to dress in the cloakroom at school, or leading them carefully down the steps, or carrying the babies over rough places; =this= is gentleness, and the gentle boy will grow up to be a gentle man. 42. The Overturned Fruit Stall. You have seen boys playing the game of "Paper Chase," or, as it is sometimes called, "Hare and Hounds". One or two boys start first, each carrying a bag full of small pieces of paper, which they scatter as they run. Then all the other boys start, and follow the track made by the scattered paper. A number of boys were starting for a "Paper Chase" one Saturday afternoon, and, passing quickly round a corner of the street, some of them ran against a little fruit stall and overturned it. The apples, pears and plums were all rolling on the ground, and the old woman who belonged to the stall looked at them in dismay. The boys all ran on except one, and he stayed behind to help to put the stall right, and to gather up all the fruit. That boy was =gentle= and kind, and the poor old woman could not thank him enough. Be =gentle= to the little ones, Be =gentle= to the old, Be =gentle= to the lame, to =all=-- For it is true, I'm told, That =gentleness= is better far Than riches, wealth or gold. FOOTNOTE: [10] _Heads Without Hands._ XVII. ON BEING GRATEFUL. 43. Rose and her Birthday Present. A little girl called Rose had a kind auntie who sent her half a sovereign for a birthday present. Rose was delighted with the money, and was always talking of the many nice things it would buy, but she never thought of writing and =thanking= her auntie. That was not grateful, was it? When we =receive= anything, we should always think =at once= of the giver, and express our thanks without delay. That is why we say "grace" before eating: we wish to thank our kind Father above for giving us the nice food to eat. The days went by, and still auntie received no word of thanks from her little niece. Then a letter came asking, "Has Rosy had my letter with the present?" Rose answered this, and said she =had= received the letter, and sent many thanks for the present. But how ashamed she must have felt that she had not written before! It is not nice to have to =ask= people for their thanks or gratitude; it ought to be given freely without asking. 44. The Boy who was Grateful. Little Vernon's father had a tricycle, and one day he fixed up a seat in front for his little boy, and took him for a nice, long ride. Vernon sat facing his father, and he was so delighted with the ride, and so grateful to his kind father for bringing him, that he could not help putting his arms round his father's neck sometimes, and giving him a kiss as they went along. Vernon's father told me this himself, and I was glad to know that the little boy possessed this precious gift of gratitude, for it is a lovely "stone" to have in the Temple we are building. (Blackboard.) Do not forget to be Grateful for Kindness; and do not forget to Show it. XVIII. SELF-HELP. 45. The Crow and the Pitcher. Perhaps you have heard the fable of the crow who was thirsty. He found a pitcher with a little water in it, but he could not get at the water, for the neck of the jug was narrow. Did he leave the water and say, "It is of no use to try"? No; he set to work, and found a way out of the difficulty. The crow dropped pebbles into the jug, one by one, and these made the water rise until he could reach it. (Illustrate by a tumbler with a few tablespoonfuls of water in it. Drop in some pebbles, and show how the water rises as the pebbles take its place.) If you have a steep hill to climb, or a hard lesson to learn, do not sit down and cry, and think you cannot do it, but be determined that, like the crow, you will master the difficulty. When you were a little, tiny child, your father carried you over the rough places, but as you grow older, you walk over them yourself. You do not want to be carried now, for you are not helpless any longer. But I am afraid there are some children who =like= to be helpless, and to let mother do everything for them. I once knew a girl of ten who could not tie her own bootlaces; =she= was helpless. And I knew a little fellow of six who, when his mother was sick, could put on the kettle, and make her a cup of tea; he was a =helpful= boy. It is brave and nice of boys and girls to help themselves all they can, and not to be beaten by a little difficulty. Remember the Sparrow and the Rag (Story Lesson 30), as well as the Crow, and (Blackboard) Do not be Helpless, but Master Difficulty as the Crow did. XIX. CONTENT. 46. Harold and the Blind Man. Do you know what it is to be contented? It is just the opposite of being dissatisfied and unhappy. Little Harold was looking forward to a day in the glen on the morrow, but when the morning came it was wet and cold, and the journey had to be put off. Harold had lots of toys to play with, but he would not touch any of them; he just stood with his face against the window-pane, discontented and unhappy. After a time he saw an old man with a stick coming up the street, and a little dog was walking beside him. As they drew nearer, Harold saw that the old man held the dog by a string, and that it was leading him, for he was blind. The discontented little boy began to wonder what it must be like to be blind, and he shut his eyes very tight to try it. How dark it was! he could see nothing. How dreadful to be =always= in darkness! Then he opened his eyes again, and looked at the old man's face; it was a peaceful, pleasant face. The old man did not look discontented and unhappy, and yet it was far worse to be blind than to be disappointed of a picnic. Harold had yet to learn that it is not =outside= things that give content, but something within. He could not help being disappointed at the wet day, but he could have made the best of it and played with his toys, as indeed he did after seeing the blind man. (Blackboard.) Be Content and make the Best of Things. XX. TIDINESS. 47. The Slovenly Boy. Of =all= the untidy children you ever saw Leo must have been the worst. His hair was unbrushed, his boots were uncleaned, and the laces were always trailing on the floor. Why did he not learn to tie a bow? (For full instructions, with illustrations, on the "Tying of a bow," see _Games Without Music_.) It must be very uncomfortable to have one's boots all loose about the ankles, besides looking so untidy. Can you guess how his stockings were? They were all in folds round his legs, instead of being drawn and held up tight, and he had always a button off somewhere. The worst of it was that Leo did not seem to =mind= being untidy. I hope =you= are not like that. Do all the little girls love to have smooth, clean pinafores? and do the boys like to have a clean collar and smooth hair? and do all of you keep your hands and faces clean? Then you are like the children in these verses. 1. The Tidy Boy:-- A tidy boy would not be seen With rough or rumpled hair, Nor come to meals with unwashed hands And face; and he will care To have his collar clean and white, And boots must polished be and bright. 2. The Tidy Girl:-- And what about the tidy girl? All nice and clean is she, Her pinafore is smooth and straight, Her hair neat as can be; No wrinkled sock, or untied lace Does this neat, tidy girl disgrace. 48. Pussy and the Knitting. I wonder if you have heard of pussy getting mother's knitting and making it all in a tangle. These are the verses about it:-- PUSS IN MISCHIEF.[11] 1. "Where are you, kitty? Where are you?--say. I've scarcely seen you At all to-day. 2. "You're not in mischief, I hope, my dear; Ah! now I have found you. How came you here? 3. "That's mother's knitting, You naughty kit; Oh! such a tangle You've made of it. 4. "'Twas =that= which kept you So very still; Mamma will scold you, I know she will." 5. Then puss comes to me, And rubs her fur Against my fingers, And says "purr, purr". 6. I know she means it To say, "Don't scold," So close in my arms My puss I hold. 7. And then I tell her, My little pet, That mother's knitting She must not get. 8. The wool will never Be wound, I fear; But mother forgives My kitty dear. I do not suppose that pussy would =know= she was doing anything naughty in tangling the wool, but a =child= would know, of course, that wool must be kept straight and tidy if it is to be of use. 49. The Packing of the Trunks. Nellie and Madge were two little girls getting ready to go for a visit to grandmamma. She lived many miles away, and the children were to go by train and stay with her for a whole month. Their clothes were all laid on the bed ready for packing, and as mother wanted them to grow up =helpful= girls, she said they might put the things in the boxes themselves. So Nellie and Madge began to pack. Nellie took each article by itself, and laid it carefully in the box without creasing, putting all the heavier things at the bottom, and the dresses and lighter articles at the top. When she had laid them all in, the lid just closed nicely, and her work was finished. Then she turned to see what Madge was doing. Madge had not packed more than half her pile, and the box was full. "What shall I do?" she cried, "I =cannot= get them all in." Just then mamma came up and said: "Have you finished, children? it is nearly train time". Her eyes fell on the box Madge was packing, and she exclaimed, "Oh! Madge, you have put the clothes in anyhow, everything must be taken out!" Madge had just thrown them in "higgledy-piggledy," instead of laying them straight, and they came out a crumpled heap. She was so hot and flurried, and so afraid of being late for the train, that she could hardly keep the tears back, but mamma and Nellie helped to straighten the things, and to pack them neatly, and just as the cab drove up to the door the last frock was laid in the box, and the lid went down without any trouble. Madge remembered to take more pains next time she packed her box. I was in a house one day, and when the lady opened a drawer to get something out, the articles in the drawer =bounced up= just like a "Jack in the box," because you see, they had been put in anyhow, and then crushed down to allow the drawer to be closed. Of course she could not find what she wanted. I hope none of =your= drawers are like a "Jack in the box". I wonder if untidy people are lazy? I am afraid they are. A girl came home from school one day, and threw her wet cloak on a chair all in a heap, instead of hanging it up nicely on a peg. When she next wanted to wear the cloak, it was all over creases and not fit to put on. Perhaps she thought that mother would see it on the chair, and hang it up for her, but a nice, thoughtful child would not like to give mother the trouble, would she? (Blackboard.) Be Tidy and Neat. FOOTNOTE: [11] _New Recitations for Infants_, p. 41. XXI. MODESTY. 50. The Violet. Two friends were walking along a country road, and as they went on one said: "I do believe there are violets somewhere on this bank, the air smells so sweet". The other lady replied that she did not see any; but, looking carefully, they at last found the leaves, and there, hiding away among them, was the little sweet violet, with its delicious scent. Why does the little violet hide away? Because she is =modest=, which means that she does not like to =boast=, or make a display of her pretty petals and sweet perfume. =Modest= people do not like to talk of kind, noble or clever things they may have done; they prefer to =hide= their good deeds, and in this they are like the violet. 51. Modesty in Dress. There is another way in which children can be modest--they can be modest about dress. A child's dress is not so long as that of a grown-up person, because children want to romp and play about, but a =modest= child always likes its dress to cover it nicely, and will take care that no buttons are unfastened. One evening some children were playing about on the hearthrug, when one of them, a little girl named Jessie, jumped up quite suddenly, and, with a blushing face, ran out of the room. The governess followed to see what was the matter, and Jessie told her in a whisper that she was =so= ashamed, because in romping about her dress had gone above her knees. Some people might say that Jessie was =too= modest, but I do not think so; a nice little girl will always like to keep her knees covered. In America the children have much longer dresses than in our country, and they would think little girls very rude who were not as careful as Jessie. You will think for yourselves of many other ways in which children can be modest. It is a good rule never to do =anything= that we would be ashamed for teacher or mother to see. XXII. ON GIVING PLEASURE TO OTHERS. 52. "Selfless" and "Thoughtful"--a Fairy Tale. "Selfless" and "Thoughtful" were sisters of the little "Gold-wings" (Story Lesson 1). I cannot tell you which of the two was the sweetest and best; they were =both= so lovable, for like "Gold-wings" they were always thinking of others, and especially of how they could give pleasure to the sick and weak. One day, as they sat on a mossy bank in the Fairy wood, "Selfless" asked, "What shall we do next, sister?" and "Thoughtful" made answer, "I have been thinking of little Davie, who is so lame and weak; suppose I go to the Kindergarten and try to get some one to be kind to him". "A good idea," replied "Selfless," "and I will fly over the fields and see what can be done there; then in the moonlight we will meet, and tell each other what we have done." So they spread their pretty wings and flew away. * * * * * Now it is night in the Fairy wood, and in the silver moonlight the sisters rest again on the mossy bank and talk. 53. The Bunch of Roses. "I flew to the Kindergarten," said "Thoughtful," "you know Davie used to attend there before he was ill. Of course no one saw me, and as I hovered over the teacher's desk, little Bessie, a rosy-cheeked maid, came up and laid a lovely bunch of crimson roses upon it for the teacher. The scent was so delicious I could not help nestling down into one of the roses to enjoy it better. The teacher picked up the flowers, not knowing I was there, and as she buried her face in the soft petals, to smell the sweet perfume, I whispered 'Send them to Davie'." "A smile instantly came over her face, and she said: 'Bessie, a good fairy has whispered a kind thought to me; shall we send your pretty roses to Davie?'" "'Oh! yes,' said Bessie, 'please let me take them to him with your love, for I gave them to you." "So the roses were taken to Davie, and how happy they made him to be sure! and the =teacher= was happy because she had remembered poor Davie, and =Bessie= was happy to carry the flowers to him, so I came away glad, also; but what have =you= done, dear sister?" 54. Edwin and the Birthday Party. Then "Selfless" answered:-- "I flew away over the fields, and there I saw a little boy, dressed all in his best clothes, speeding away across the field-path, and I knew that he was going to a birthday party, and that he was walking quickly so as to be in time; for there was to be a lovely birthday cake, all iced over with sugar; and little pieces of silver, called threepenny pieces, had been scattered through the cake, so of course Edwin wanted to be there when it was cut up. "I saw a little girl in the fields, also, walking along the hedges looking for blackberries, and in trying to reach a branch of the ripe fruit that grew on the farther side of a ditch, the poor child overbalanced herself and fell in, uttering a loud scream. "Edwin heard the scream and said to himself, 'I wonder what that is? I should like to go and see, but oh, dear! it will perhaps make me late for the party'. Then the Bad Voice spoke to him, and said, 'Never mind the scream; hurry on to the party," and Edwin hurried on, but his cheeks grew hot, and he looked unhappy. "Soon the child screamed again, and the Good Voice said, 'Help! Edwin, never mind self,' and with that he turned back, and ran to the place where the sounds had seemed to come from. He soon saw the little girl, who was trying to scramble up the steep side of the ditch, and could not; it needed the help of Edwin's strong hands to give her a good pull, and bring her safely out. Oh, how glad she was to be on the grass once more! Edwin wiped her tears away, and told her to run home; then he made haste to the party with a light, glad heart, and he arrived just as they were sitting down to tea, so he was in time for the cake after all. But even if he had =missed= it, he would have been glad that he stayed behind to help the little girl." "What a nice boy," said "Thoughtful". "Did he tell the people at the party what he had done?" "Oh, =no=," replied "Selfless"; "his mother told him that people should =never boast= of kind things they had done, for that would spoil it." "True," said "Thoughtful"; "but what did =you= do, dear "Selfless"? It is not boasting to tell =me=." "I only helped Edwin to listen to the Good Voice," replied "Selfless," as she looked down on the moss at her feet. "A good work, too," said "Thoughtful"; "and now, what shall we do next?" 55. Davie's Christmas Present. "I have been thinking," said "Selfless," "that Christmas will soon be here, and how nice it would be if we could help the children at the Kindergarten to think of Davie, and make ready a Christmas present for him." "A lovely idea," said "Thoughtful"; "we will go to-morrow, for it wants only a month to Christmas." Next morning the two fairy sisters came to the Kindergarten, and floated about unseen, as fairies always do. First they rested on the teacher, who was very fond of these unseen fairies, and she began to think of Davie. "Children," said she, "Christmas will be here in a month; shall we make a present for little Davie?" (Do you know, I believe that doing kind things is like going to parties; when you have been to =one= party, you like it so much that you are glad to go to =another=, and when you have done =one= kind thing, it makes you so happy you want to do =another=.) Bessie was the first to answer, and she said, "Oh, yes, it would be lovely to make a Christmas present for Davie; do let us try". And all the children said, "Yes, do let us try". "It must be something made by your own little hands," said the teacher. "Think now, what could you do?" "We could make some little 'boats'[12] in paperfolding," said one child. Teacher said that would do nicely, and she wrote it down. Another child said, "I could sew a 'cat' in the embroidery lesson," and Bessie exclaimed, "Please let me sew a 'kitten' to go with it," and the teacher wrote that down, and remarked that some one else might make the "saucer" for pussy's milk, in pricking. Then others might make a "nest"[1] in clay with eggs in it, and a little "bird" sitting on the eggs, suggested the teacher; and as the "babies" begged to be allowed to help also, it was decided that they should thread pretty coloured beads on sticks, and make a nice large "basket".[13] "Now," said teacher, "I have quite a long list, and we must begin at once." So they all set to work, and when breaking-up day came, Davie's present was ready. There was a whole fleet of "ships," white inside and crimson outside. The pictures of "pussy" and her "kitten" were neatly sewn, and the "saucer" was white and clean, and evenly pricked, while the "bird" on its "nest" looked as pretty as could be, and the "bead basket" was the best of all--at least the =babies= thought so. I have no words to tell of the joy that the children's present brought to little Davie, his face flushed with pleasure as the "boats" and other gifts were spread out before him; it was so delightful to think that the children had remembered =him= and =worked= for him. "Selfless" and "Thoughtful" sat once more on the mossy bank, and rejoiced that the plan had worked so well. If these little fairies and their sister "Kindness" should ever suggest thoughts to =you=, dear boys and girls, do not send them away. They will speak to you through the Good Voice, and the happiest people in the world are the people who listen to the Good Voice. FOOTNOTES: [12] _Kindergarten Guide_, Boat, p. 158, No. 35. [13] _Kindergarten Guide_, Nest, p. 174, No. 12; Basket, Plate 6, opposite p. 129, No. 9 in Fig. 79. XXIII. CLEANLINESS.[14] 56. Why we should be Clean. (Show the children a sponge.) Here is a sponge! What do we see all over the sponge? We see little holes. There is another name for these--we call them =pores=. (Write "pores" on Blackboard.) What comes out on your forehead sometimes on a hot day? Drops of water come out. They come through tiny holes in the skin, so tiny that we cannot see them, and these also are called pores. Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was to be a grand procession in a fine old city called Rome, and a little golden-haired child was gilded all over his body to represent "The Golden Age" in the procession. When it was over the little child was soon dead. Can you guess why? The pores in his skin had been all stopped up with the gilding, so that the damp, warm air could not get out, and that caused his death. You see, then, that we breathe with these little pores, just as we breathe with our nose and mouth, and if the pores were all closed up we should die. Now you will understand why we have to be washed and bathed. What is it that the dirt does to your pores? It stops them up, so (Blackboard) To be Healthy, We must be Clean. 57. Little Creatures who like to be Clean. You know that pussy likes to be clean, and that she washes herself carefully, and her little kittens, also, until they are big enough to wash themselves; but there are other creatures, much smaller than the cat, who like to be clean. Do you know what shrimps or prawns are? I daresay you have often eaten a shrimp! Have you ever counted its ten long legs? On the front pair there are two tiny brushes, and the prawn has been seen to stand up on his eight hind legs, and brush himself with the tiny tufts on his front legs, to get all the sand away. Is not that clever for such a little fellow? There is another creature, very much smaller than the prawn, that is particularly clean, though we do not like to have it in our houses. If the housemaid sees its little "parlour" in the corner of a room, she sweeps it away. You remember who it was that said: "Will you walk into my parlour?" It was the spider, and it is the spider who is so very fond of being clean, that it cannot bear to have a grain of dust anywhere about its body. Its hairs and legs are always kept perfectly clean. Then there is the tiny ant, which is smaller than a fly, and it loves to keep itself nice and clean, so if (Blackboard) Shrimps and Spiders and Ants like to be Clean, Children should like to be Clean. 58. The Boy who did not like to be Washed. Sydney was a little boy who did not like to be washed. He disliked it as much as the little dog in Story Lesson No. 4. When the time came for his bath he screamed and kicked and made such a fuss that at last his mother said he should remain dirty for a while, and see what would happen. So Sydney had no bath when he went to bed at night, neither was he washed in the morning. Of course no one wanted to kiss him, or play with him, for he was not sweet and clean; he had to play all by himself in the garden. Presently a carriage drove up and stopped at the garden gate; then a gentleman stepped out, walked up to the door, and rang the bell, which was answered by Sydney's mother. "I have called to take your little boy for a drive," said the gentleman, "but I am in a great hurry; could you have him ready at once?" Just then Sydney peeped in at the door. Oh! what a little blackamoor he was, not fit for any one to see! His mother had to explain to the kind gentleman how it was that he looked so dirty, and, as nothing but a bath and a whole suit of clean clothes would make him fit to go, he had to be left behind. Poor Sydney began to feel very sad and sorry now, and when the carriage had driven away he ran up to his mother, hid his little black face in her dress, and burst into tears. "Oh, mother," he cried, "do make me a clean boy again; I will never be naughty any more when I am washed." Sydney never forgot the lesson he had learnt that (Blackboard) Nobody likes Children to be Dirty. 59. The Nails and the Teeth. What a good thing it is that we have nice, hard nails to keep the tips of our fingers from being hurt! How sore they would get if it were not for those bright, horny nails, and how well they protect the finger-tips, which have to touch so many things! Most of the nail is fast to the finger, but at the outer edge there is a little space =between= the nail and the finger, and if we are not careful this little space gets filled with dirt, and then the nail has a black band across the top, which looks very ugly. When the nails are long, the band is wider, and, although the dirt is =under= the nail, it shows on the outside, because the nail is transparent, that is, it can be seen through. Do you like to have your hands clean? Then there must be no black bands to disfigure the pretty, shining nails; our hands cannot be called clean if there is a little arch of dirt at the tip of each finger. Ask mother to cut the nails when they get too long, then you can keep them clean more easily. Men who do work that soils their hands very much like the chimney-sweep (Story Lesson 62) cannot possibly keep their nails clean, but children can. There was once a little boy who had the funniest finger-tips I ever saw. The nails were so short that there was not the tiniest space between the outer edge and the fleshy part, and so the tip of each finger had grown out like a little round cushion, not at all pretty to look at. If the little boy saw any one noticing his hands, he would hide them away, lest he should be asked what it was that caused the finger-tips to look so funny. I wonder if =you= can guess the reason? It was because the boy bit his nails. What a horrid thing to do! Was it not? And how do you think his mother cured him? She dipped the tips of his fingers in tincture of bitter aloes, so that when he put them in his mouth he might get the bitter taste, and leave off biting them. I once heard a gentleman say that =he= thought it was very rude to put a pencil or anything near the mouth, so what would he think of a child who put his =fingers= in his mouth, and bit his nails? Baby may suck her little thumb sometimes, perhaps, because she does not know better, but sensible children will remember that it is rude to put fingers in mouth. (Blackboard.) Keep your Nails Clean. Do not put Fingers in Mouth. Can you think of anything else that should be kept clean besides the nails? In your mouth are two rows of beautiful little, white teeth. At least they =ought= to be white, but if we do not keep them clean, they often get discoloured and begin to decay and give us pain. We should each have a tooth-brush, and use it every day to cleanse the teeth, dipping it first in nice, clean water, and when the brushing is done, the mouth should be rinsed several times. The teeth should be brushed up and down from the gums (not from left to right), so that we may get all the particles of food from the tiny spaces between the teeth. If we do this regularly we shall not be likely to suffer much from toothache. Two white rows of pearly teeth, What can prettier be? If you =keep= them clean and white, They are fair to see. (Blackboard.) Why we brush teeth:-- 1. To keep clean and prevent toothache. 2. To make them look nice. FOOTNOTE: [14] No. 21, "Washing One's Self" in _Games Without Music_ might be appropriately used with above subject. XXIV. PURE LANGUAGE. 60. Toads and Diamonds--A Fairy Tale. There was an old woman at a well, who, when a little girl came to draw water, asked for a drink, and the kind little maiden lifted the jug to the old woman's lips, and told her to take as much as she wished. Then the old woman blessed her for her kindness, and said that whenever the child spoke, pearls and diamonds should fall from her lips. Then another girl came to the well, and again the old woman asked to drink, but the girl said, "No! draw water for yourself". That was rude and unkind, was it not? The old woman, who was really the Queen of the Fairies, could not bless =this= girl for her kindness, because she had showed none, so she said that whenever the girl spoke, toads and vipers should fall from her lips. That is like the people who do not speak good, pure language; the bad words that fall from their lips are like toads and vipers. I hope you have never heard such words, but if you ever should, do not stop to listen, for wicked words are like the pitch that Martin tried to play with (Story Lesson 63); the person who says them cannot be pure and true, for bad words are not =clean=. A lady was travelling in a railway train one day, and several young men were in the carriage, who spoke and looked like gentlemen. But by-and-by they began to swear dreadfully, and the lady asked if they would be kind enough to say the bad words in Greek or Latin, so that she could not understand them. She did not want to hear the bad words, you see; they were like toads and vipers to her, because she loved what was pure and clean. (Blackboard.) Keep your Language Pure. Do not Listen to Bad Words. XXV. PUNCTUALITY. 61. Lewis and the School Picnic. There was once a little boy called Lewis, who had one bad fault--he was very, very slow; so slow, that I am afraid he was really lazy. He could do his sums quite well, but he was always the last boy to get them finished; and in a morning his mother had no end of trouble to get him off to school in time, he did everything so slowly. (Read the following sentence very deliberately, and allow the children to fill in the adverbs): He got out of bed (slowly), dressed himself (slowly), washed himself (slowly), laced his boots (slowly), ate his breakfast (slowly), and walked to school at the same pace (slowly). Now one day a gentleman came to the school, and told the teacher that he was going to take all the children in a boat down the river to have a picnic by the seaside. Could anything be more delightful? The scholars clapped their hands for gladness, and talked and thought of nothing but the picnic. It was to be on the very next day, and they were to start from the school at nine o'clock in the morning. "Lewis," said the teacher, "remember to be in time, for the boat will not wait!" The morning came, and Lewis was called by his mother at seven o'clock. "There is plenty of time," said Lewis, "I will lie a little longer;" and he did so. Then his mother called again, and this time he rose, but he went through all his work as slowly as ever, and all the time his mother was telling him to "hurry up" or he would be too late. At last he is ready to start; but just as he leaves the house a bell is rung. "What is that?" says Lewis; "it must be the bell of the steamer. I have no time to go round by the school; I must go straight to the pier," and off he ran. But, alas! by the time he reached the pier the boat was steaming off. He could see the children with their pails and spades waving their handkerchiefs in glee, and there was he left behind! I was telling this story to a little boy once, and when it came to this part he said: "Oh, auntie! could not they get a little boat and take Lewis to the steamer? It is so hard for him to be left behind." But you see, boys and girls, we =must= be left behind, if we are slow and lazy. I am glad to tell you, however, that Lewis was cured of his fault by this disappointment. He really did try to get on more quickly afterwards, and he succeeded. At school he had his sums finished so soon that the teacher began to let him help the other boys who did not get on so well, and Lewis was quite proud and happy. Then he came to school so early that he was made "monitor," and had to put out the slates and books, ready for the others. So, after all, Lewis grew up to be smart and quick, and not like the man you will hear of in another story (Story Lesson 84), who grew worse as he grew older. (Blackboard.) Do not be Slow and Lazy, or you will be always "Too Late". XXVI. ALL WORK HONOURABLE. 62. The Chimney-sweep. "Mother," said little Frank, "I saw a man walking along the street to-day with a bundle of brushes in his hand, and such a black face. I was careful not to touch him as I passed, he looked so dirty--quite a 'blackamoor'"! "Ah!" said his mother, "that was a chimney-sweep; he cannot =help= being dirty, and my little boy ought to feel very kindly to him, for we should be badly off without such men." Not many days afterwards there was a storm. How the wind blew and roared! All through the night it rattled the windows and whistled in the chimney. Frank's mother went downstairs early in the morning to make a fire, but as soon as she lighted it, puff! the smoke came down the chimney, and filled the room, and she was obliged to let the fire go out. Down came the children for breakfast, and Frank cried: "Is the fire not lighted, mother? I am so cold; and oh! the house =is= smoky." "I have tried to light a fire," said his mother, "but the smoke blows down the chimney. I think it needs sweeping; I shall have to give you milk for breakfast; there is no nice, hot coffee for you, because the fire will not burn." After breakfast Frank's brother went to fetch the chimney-sweep, who soon came, and with his long brushes brought down all the soot, which he carried away in a bag. Then the fire burned merrily, making the room look quite bright and cheerful, and Frank said: "Thank you, Mr. Chimney-sweep, for your good work. I will never call you 'blackamoor' again; and when I meet you in the street, I will not think you are too dirty to speak to." Frank had learnt two lessons:-- (Blackboard) 1. Some Work makes Men Black. 2. We must be kind to these Men, for we Need their Work. XXVII. BAD COMPANIONS. 63. Playing with Pitch. You have seen the men at work mending the roads, and you know how sometimes they spread little stones all over the road, and then roll them flat with a steam-roller. But in some places the roads are laid with stones as large as bricks, and when these have all been placed together, the men take a large can with a spout, full of hot pitch, and pour it into the spaces between the stones to fasten them together. A little boy, named Martin, was watching the men do this one day, and he said to himself, "I should like a piece of that black stuff; it has cooled now, and looks like a black piece of dough; I could make all sorts of shapes with it, and I do not believe it would soil my hands". So he picked up a length that lay near him, rolled it into a ball, and put it in his pocket. Some of the tar stuck to his hands, and when he washed them it did not come off, but it was now school time, and away he went. When he came out of school, he put his hand in his pocket to get the tar, and oh, what a sticky mess it was! His pocket was all over tar, so was his hand, and when he reached home, his mother set to work to get it off, and it took her a long, long time. Martin was mistaken in thinking he could play with the pitch and not get soiled. 64. Stealing Strawberries. When Martin grew older he had some playmates who were not very good, and his mother said, "Martin, I wish you would not play with those boys; I fear they will get you into trouble". "Oh! no, mother," replied Martin, "if they =wanted= me to do anything wrong I would not; I need not learn their bad ways if I =do= play with them." But his mother shook her head, for she knew better. Some time afterwards the boys had a half-holiday, and Martin went with his friends into the country. Presently they came to a large garden, with a high wall round it, and the boys began to climb the wall. "Where are you going?" asked Martin. "Oh!" said one of the boys, laughing, "a friend of ours owns this garden, and we are going to help him gather strawberries." There was a large bed of strawberries on the other side of the wall, and as soon as the boys were over, they began to pick and eat. What the boy had told Martin was quite untrue--they were =stealing= the strawberries; but before very long the gardener spied them, and with one or two other men came upon them so quietly, that they had no time to get away, and every boy was made prisoner. The gardener locked them up in the tool-house until the owner came, and he took their names and addresses, and said they should be brought before the magistrates, as it was not the first time they had stolen his fruit. Of course Martin had not been with them the other times, but he was caught with them now, and can you imagine how dreadfully ashamed he felt, and how his cheeks burned when he thought of his dear mother, and the trouble it would be to her. When he reached home, he told his mother all that had happened, and begged her forgiveness. His mother was greatly distressed, and said: "You remember playing with the pitch, Martin, when you were a very little boy--you thought you could handle it, and still keep clean, but you could not; so neither can you have bad companions without being mixed up in wrong-doing". (Blackboard.) To mix with Bad Company is like Playing with Pitch. XXVIII. ON FORGETTING. 65. Maggie's Birthday Present. It was Maggie's birthday, and her father brought her as a present something that she had been wishing for a very long time. It was a beautiful yellow canary, and its little house was the prettiest cage imaginable, for it was made of brass wire, which was so bright that you could almost think it was gold. Of course Maggie was delighted. "It is just what I have been wishing for," said she; "I shall feed the canary myself, and give it fresh water every day; it is the prettiest bird I ever saw." For some weeks Maggie remembered her little pet each day, and attended to all its wants, but there came a day when there was to be a picnic for all the school children, and Maggie was so excited and glad about the picnic that she forgot all about feeding the bird. Then next day there was hay-making, and she was in the field all day, and again forgot the poor bird. This went on for a few days, and when at last she =did= remember, and went to the cage, the bird was dead. Maggie was full of grief, and cried until her head ached, but she could not undo the results of her forgetting. Some people think it is a =little= fault to forget, but that cannot be, for we know well that "forgetting" often causes pain and suffering to others. (Blackboard.) Forgetting often causes Pain. 66. The Promised Drive. Daniel was a lame little boy. He could not walk at all, nor play about with the other children, so he was very puny and pale. His mother used to put his little chair near the door of the cottage where they lived, so that he could watch the people pass, and one day, as he sat there, a lady came by with a well-dressed little boy, and when she saw the pale-faced child she stopped and spoke to him, and then Daniel's mother came to the door, and invited her to step inside the cottage. The lady's little boy was called Emil, and he stood on the doorstep talking to Daniel, while the two mothers spoke together within the cottage. Emil, who was a kind-hearted little fellow, felt very sorry for the lame child, and when he found that Daniel was never able to go any farther than the street where he lived, Emil said: "I will ask my father to bring his carriage round and take you for a drive; I am sure he will, and then you can see the green fields and trees, and hear the birds sing". Daniel's little face flushed with pleasure, and he said; "Oh that would be lovely!" By-and-by the lady and her boy said "Good-bye," and went away, and then Daniel told his mother all that Emil had said. "Do you think he will come to-morrow, mother?" asked Daniel. "Perhaps not to-morrow, dear," replied she, "but some day soon maybe." So Daniel sat at the door each day, and waited for the carriage, but it never came, and when he grew too ill to sit up he would still lie and listen for the sound of the wheels, and say: "I think it will come to-day, mother," but it never did. And do you know why? Emil had forgotten to ask his father, and so Daniel waited in vain for the drive. You see how much pain and disappointment can be caused by forgetting, and when you promise to do a thing and forget to =keep= the promise it is just like telling an untruth. You do not =intend= to speak what is not the truth, but you do it all the same. Remember, then, that it is =not= a little fault to forget, and that those who do it are not building on the firm foundation of truth. (Blackboard.) When we Promise and Forget, we are not True. _To the Parent or Teacher._--However culpable it may be to break promises to adults (and it is in reality nothing less than untruth), it is infinitely worse to break faith with children. An unredeemed promise is a sure way of shaking a child's confidence in truth and goodness. Let us keep our word with the little ones at whatever cost. 67. The Boy who Remembered. Little Elsie had a big brother called Jack, of whom she was very fond, and he was fond of Elsie also. Jack was about fifteen years old, and he was learning to be a sailor. When his ship came into port he used to come home for a few days, and then he would tell Elsie all about the places he had seen. One time the voyage had been very long, and Jack told Elsie that when the bread was all finished they had had to eat sea-biscuits instead. "How funny," said Elsie; "what are sea-biscuits like, Jack?" "They are very hard and round and thick," replied Jack. Elsie said she would like to see one, and Jack promised that when he went back to his ship he would send her one. It was not a great thing to promise, was it? But Elsie felt very important when the postman brought her a little parcel a day or two after Jack had left, and she was very glad when she opened it and found the promised biscuit. "There is one good thing about Jack," exclaimed Elsie, "he always does what he says." I think Jack would have been pleased to hear Elsie say that; it is one of the nicest things that =could= have been said about him. I hope it is true of all of us. (Blackboard.) To Forget is not a Little Thing. Be True, and do what you say. XXIX. KINDNESS TO ANIMALS. 68. Lulu and the Sparrow. As Lulu came home from school one afternoon, she noticed three or four boys throwing stones at something--I hardly like to =tell= you what. It was a poor little brown sparrow that had somehow hurt its leg, and could not fly. However, this happened a great many years ago, and perhaps boys are less cruel now. Lulu could not bear to see the poor bird treated so badly, and she asked the boys to give it to her. At first they laughed, and went on throwing the stones; but she continued to beg for it so earnestly, that at last one of the boys said, "Let her have it". And Lulu was only too glad to pick up the wounded bird and carry it home. She nursed and fed it carefully, and put it in a warm place by the fire; but, in spite of all her care, the sparrow died in a few hours. Sometimes pain is necessary, as in Story Lesson 29; we should never think of saying the dentist was cruel; rather we should say he was kind, because he saved the monkey from =further= pain. But when we cause pain that is =needless=, as these boys did, it is =cruel=. They were cowardly also. If the bird had been an eagle, with strong claws that could have hurt them in return, would they have stoned it? No; they chose a poor little sparrow that could not defend itself, and this was =cowardly=. Then it was =unfair=. You do not like to be punished or found fault with if you have done nothing wrong; you feel it is not fair; neither is it fair to hurt a dumb animal that has done nothing wrong. 69. Why we should be Kind to Animals. Just think how many things animals do for us. Where did the wool come from that makes your nice, warm clothes? (Let children answer.) How do we get the coals to our houses--the coals that make the bright, hot fires? (Ans.) What could we do without the brave, strong horses? I heard the other day of a man who did not give his horse enough to eat. What kind of man was he? (Ans.) I would rather be like the Arab, who loves his horse so much that he brings it into his tent, and shares his food and bed with it. Where do we get our milk, butter and cheese? (Ans.) Then think of all the stories of animals in this book, who have done kind, clever things (and all these stories are true). If boys and girls would =think=, I am quite sure they would never be unkind to animals. 70. The Butterfly. One day a boy was chasing a butterfly, cap in hand, and just as he had caught it, a bee stung him. He was so angry that he threw the butterfly down and trampled on it. Was not that cruel? The butterfly had done him no harm, and the greatest skill in the world could not paint anything so delicate and beautiful as a butterfly's wing; and yet he destroyed that beauty. Sometimes children will hunt spiders out of the crevices in the wall and torture them, and others will torment the little fly, or steal the bird's pretty eggs that the mother sits on with such care. All this is cruel and unkind. Remember it is =not noble= to hurt. The truest gentleman is he who is full of kindness and gentleness and will not hurt anything. 71. The Kind-hearted Dog. Have you ever seen children riding donkeys at the seaside? and have you noticed how the boys beat the poor things sometimes to make them go faster? I do not think a =kind= boy or girl would like to have a donkey beaten. I hope =you= would not. There was once a little dog who could not bear to see any creature beaten. If any one were ill-treating a dog he would rush up and bark quite angrily, and when he was driving in the dog-cart with his master, he always used to hold the sleeve of his master's coat every time he touched the horse with the whip, as if he would have said, "Do not beat him, please". Now, if a =dog= knows that it is not kind to hurt dumb creatures, we are sure boys and girls know. (Blackboard.) To Hurt Animals is Cruel, for the pain is needless. It is Unfair, for they do not deserve it. It is Cowardly, for often they cannot hurt you in return. XXX. BAD TEMPER. 72. How Paul was Cured. Paul was a little boy who was very fond of having his own way, and when he could not get it he used to throw himself into the most dreadful tempers. He would take his pocket-handkerchief and tear it all to pieces in his rage, not to mention lying on the floor and kicking with his heels. One day his governess said to him, "Paul, I will tell you a true story". Paul sat down ready to listen, for he loved stories, so the governess began:-- "There was once a little boy, bright, honest and truthful, always ready to run messages for his mother, or to help a schoolmate with his lessons, he was so good-natured. But Henry (for that was his name) had one great fault--he would get into violent passions when any one vexed him, and as he grew older his passion became stronger, and had the mastery of him more and more. He was a sailor, and as time went on he had a ship of his own, and was captain of it. Henry could manage the ship well; he knew just how to turn the wheel to make her go East or West, and he knew also how to trim the sails to make the ship move swiftly along. If he could have controlled his temper as he did his ship, all might have been well. But he used to be very angry with the sailors when they did not please him, and one day when the cabin-boy had done something that vexed him, the captain in a fit of passion beat the poor boy so cruelly that he died. When the ship came home the captain was taken to prison, and in the end he lost =his= life for having taken the boy's life." The governess paused, and Paul gazed up into her face with wide-open, anxious eyes. "Is =that= what happens to boys who get into a passion?" he asked. "It happened to the captain," said she. "Then I will never give way to passion again if it has such a dreadful ending," said Paul, and the governess told me that he kept his word. (Blackboard.) If Bad Temper gets the Mastery, it leads to sad Results. 73. The Young Horse. Edgar was riding in the train with his mother one day. He sat next the window, as children like to do, so that he could see all that was going on. How the train speeds along! now passing through a tunnel, then out again into the sunshine; next it goes over a long row of arches built across a valley, and called a viaduct. "How high up we seem to be," said Edgar; "see, mother, the river is down there ever so far below!" Now they are passing through fields again, and there, looking over the hedge, is a beautiful young horse. But as the train whirls by, the horse runs off and scampers round and round the field. Edgar watched him as long as he could see, and then he said: "What a lovely horse, mother! how I should like to ride him!" "The horse is of no use for riding yet, Edgar," said his mother. "Why?" asked Edgar. "Because he has not yet learnt to obey a rider," replied she; "the horse has to wear bit and bridle before he can be of use, and to learn by them to be controlled. A horse that could not be managed would run away with you, just as poor Henry's temper ran away with him (Story Lesson 72)." Bad tempers and bad habits are like wild horses: they take us where they will, and get us into sad trouble if we do not bridle them, so we must take care =not= to let the temper be master, but bridle it just as the horse-trainer bridles the horse. "I should think the horse does not like the bit and bridle at first," said Edgar. "Very likely not," replied his mother; "but he would not be the useful, patient animal that he is if he did not submit." (Blackboard.) Horse has to be Held in by Bit and Bridle. We Must Bridle Temper and Bad Habit. XXXI. SELFISHNESS. 74. The Child on the Coach. It was summer, and we were riding on the top of the coach through one of the loveliest parts of Scotland. The coach had five seats with four persons on each, so you may easily find out how many people there were. On the next seat to ours sat a lady with a little spoilt boy, about four years of age, who was very hard to please, and very discontented and unhappy. You will not be much surprised to hear that presently he began to cry, for spoilt children often do that, but I do not think you could ever guess the =reason=. His mother was speaking to a lady on the seat behind, and when the child was asked, "What is the matter?" he said, "Mamma is not attending to me when I speak to her," and =that= was why he cried. He wanted his mother to attend to =him=, to speak to him all the time, and that was selfish. He was only a very little child, but he thought too much of that ugly word--=self=, and that was why he was so discontented and unhappy. I knew another little child who was always wanting some one to play with her; she never tried to amuse herself, but was continually teasing her mother to join in her games. It is better to be like little Elsie (Story Lesson 21) who when only a year old thought of the comfort of others. 75. Edna and the Cherries. One day a lady called at a cottage where there lived a little girl, named Edna, who was playing on the hearth-rug with another little girl, Lizzie. The lady had come to see Edna's grandmamma, but she had not forgotten that Edna lived there, and she brought out of her basket a little paper bag full of ripe cherries, and gave them to the child. Edna did not forget to say "thank you," then she took the little bag, put it on a chair, and peeped inside; she was only two years old, and could not have reached the table. As soon as she saw the pretty, red cherries, she toddled to her little friend, and holding out the bag, said, "Lizzie some". When Lizzie had taken a handful, she went to her grandmother, and said, "Grandmamma some," and then with a shy, little glance at the lady, she placed the bag in her lap, and said, "Lady some". Last of all she helped her dear little self, and so we say that Edna was =un=selfish, that means =not= selfish. Baby Edna did not know about the Temple we all have to make, but she was building it just the same. Perhaps "Selfless" and "Thoughtful" were helping her to find the stones! (Blackboard.) Think First of Others, Last of Self. 76. The Boy who liked always to Win. We all like to win when we play games, and that is quite right, but Johnny liked =so much= to win that he was cross and unhappy if any one else was winning, and did not enjoy the game at all; I am afraid that he even cheated sometimes to win. Now all that was downright selfish; it reminds one of a story--a sort of fairy-tale--about Minerva and Arachne. Arachne said to Minerva, "Let us see who can spin the best". So they began to spin, and when Minerva saw that Arachne was beating her at the spinning, she struck her on the head with a spindle, and turned poor Arachne into a spider. It is a pity when people are so anxious to win that it makes them selfish. Selfishness is an ugly stone to have in your Temple, dear children. Just as Thoughtfulness is one of the most beautiful stones, so Selfishness is one of the ugliest. Try not to let it come into your lives at all. No one likes a selfish child, but everybody loves the child who =forgets= self and thinks of others. (Blackboard.) Try to be Glad when Others Win, as well as when you Win Yourself. 77. The two Boxes of Chocolate. It was Christmas time, and on Christmas Eve the children hung up their stockings as usual. Next morning they were awake early, and eagerly turned out the stockings to see what they contained. Among other things Horace and Stanley found that they each had a beautiful large picture-box full of lovely chocolate creams. After dinner on Christmas Day Stanley brought out his box, and handed it round to everybody, and by the next day his chocolates were all finished. But Horace hid his box away in a drawer, and kept going to it, and taking out a few at a time, so his chocolates lasted much longer than Stanley's, and he ate them all himself, but we are obliged to say that he was rather selfish. "Shared joy is double joy," and of the two boys we are sure that Stanley would be the happier. Shall I tell you a little secret? Selfishness will spoil the =other= stones if you let it come into your Temple, and as to the =gold=--the lovely gold of "Kindness" that the little "Gold-wings" brought--Selfishness will =eat it all away= in time. I am sure we all hate selfishness; let us write down (Blackboard.) We will not have the Ugly Stone "Selfishness" in our Temple. 78. Eva.[15] Eva was not a very big girl, and her boots were generally cleaned by the older ones, but one day her mother said, "Eva, I wish you would brush your own boots this morning, we are all so busy". "Oh mother!" said Eva, "you know it gives me a headache to brush boots, and I shall make my hands so dirty, and perhaps bespatter the floor with blacking as well." I am afraid Eva was rather a spoilt little girl, and this had made her somewhat selfish. Half an hour later her mother came into the room again, just as Eva was lacing up her boots, and she inquired who had made them so bright and shiny. It was Eva's elder sister, Mary, and Eva knew that her mother was not pleased, but nothing more was said. In the afternoon Mary and her mother went out shopping, and Eva hurried home from school, although she would have liked very much to stay for a while and play with the other girls. But she wanted to give mother a surprise. First she put the kettle on the fire, and then she laid the table all neatly and nicely, ready for tea. When everything was in its place, she went to the door several times to look for her mother and sister; at last she saw they were just turning the corner of the street, and Eva ran along to meet them, and said, "Come away, mother, tea is quite ready; I have been looking for you and Mary ever so long". And dear mother knew what it all meant. It meant that Eva had been listening to the Good Voice, and that she was sorry she had been so selfish in the morning. The Good Voice says (Blackboard) Don't be Selfish. Help all you can. FOOTNOTE: [15] See No. 3 _New Recitations for Infants_, p. 8. XXXII. CARELESSNESS. 79. The Misfortunes of Elinor. Elinor was a great anxiety to her mother, for she was always either tearing her clothes, or forgetting, or losing something--all because she was so careless. One day at tea Elinor was taking the cup which her mother had just filled, but as she was not looking at it, nor taking any care, it tilted over and fell against a tall flower-vase that stood in the centre of the table. The vase was broken, and the tablecloth deluged with tea and water--all for want of a little care. Another day Elinor's mother gave her a shilling, and sent her to the shop for some fruit, but she lost the money, and returned empty-handed. Coming home from school one day, she was poking her umbrella about in a little stream of water that the rain had made along the side of the road, when the tip of the stick caught in a grate and broke off, so the umbrella was spoilt. I could tell you many more things about poor careless Elinor, but these are enough to show how bad it is not to take care. Sometimes people have taken poison instead of medicine by being careless, and not noticing the label on the bottle; and sometimes a train has been wrecked, and lives lost, because the engine-driver was careless about noticing the signal. (Blackboard.) Do not be Careless; it brings Trouble. XXXIII. ON BEING OBSTINATE. 80. How Daisy's Holiday was Spoilt. Daisy's aunt had invited her to go and spend the day with her cousin Violet, and to Daisy, who lived in the town, it was a very great treat; for Violet's father and mother lived at a farm, and when Daisy went there, the two little girls spent the whole day out in the open air, climbing on the hay, playing "hide and seek" in the barn, or helping to milk the cows. The last time Daisy went to the farm, however, she had taken cold, and her mother found that she had been playing without coat and hat, so on this occasion she said, "Daisy, I want you to promise me that you will keep your outdoor things on when you are playing with Violet, for the day is cold". Daisy did not answer, and when her mother again asked her, she would not promise. The omnibus which was to take Daisy to the farm would pass at nine o'clock, and the time was drawing near, but still Daisy was self-willed and would not give in. (Oh, Daisy! that is =not= the Good Voice you are listening to, you will be sorry afterwards.) The omnibus came rumbling down the street, and Daisy sprang up ready to go. "Do you promise, Daisy?" asked her mother; "I cannot let you go unless you do;" but Daisy was still obstinate, and the omnibus went quickly past. A minute after she burst into tears, and cried, "I =will= promise, mother," but by this time the omnibus was too far on its way, and there was not another until two o'clock. At this time Daisy was allowed to go, but what a pity that she should lose half a day's pleasure, and disappoint her cousin, as well as grieving her dear mother, all for the sake of wanting her own way. You remember what we said about mother knowing best in "Obedience" (Story Lesson 6). When we are obstinate, we want to please =ourselves= instead of some one else, so you can see that (Blackboard) It is Selfish to be Obstinate; Better give in; Mother Knows Best. XXXIV. GREEDINESS. 81. Stephen and the Buns. It was breaking-up day at school, and the children were having buns and tea. Each child had brought a clean pocket-handkerchief, and spread it on the desk for a tablecloth. Then the teacher gave out the buns; nice large buns they were, with sugar on the top, and there were just a few left over, after one had been given to each child. Next a cup of tea was placed on each desk, and the tea-party went on merrily. But why does Stephen take such large bites, and fill his mouth so full? And why is he eating so quickly? See, his bun is finished now, and he is asking for another! "Oh! Stephie, naughty boy, you have gobbled up your bun as fast as you could, because you were afraid the buns left over would be used up before you asked for more. That was =greedy=." Do not be greedy, boys and girls. Never mind how hungry you are; eat slowly and nicely, and pass things to others. It is so selfish to think only of your =own= wants, and not to care how other people are getting on. "Greediness" is an ugly word, and no one likes to see greedy children. (Blackboard.) It is Rude and Vulgar to be Greedy. XXXV. BOASTING. 82. The Stag and his Horns. Have you ever seen a stag with its graceful, branching horns? There is a fable told of a stag who went to a pool to drink, and seeing himself reflected in the water, he said: "Dear me, how beautiful are my horns; what a nice, graceful appearance they give to me! My legs are quite slender, and not at all beautiful, but my horns are handsome." When the hunters came, however, the stag found that his slender legs were very useful, for by means of them he could run away from his enemies, and if it had not been that his horns caught in the branches of a tree and held him fast, he might have escaped. You see how foolish it was of the stag to =boast= about his fine horns; and we are just as foolish when =we= boast of anything that we have, or of anything we can do. Boasting often leads to untruth, as in (Story Lesson 11) "The Three Feathers". It is always vulgar to pretend that we are better than our neighbours, and people who boast generally try to make one believe that they =are= cleverer or richer or better than somebody else. Let us be like the modest violet, who hides her beauty, rather than be boastful and foolish, as the stag was. (Blackboard.) It is Foolish and Vulgar to Boast. XXXVI. WASTEFULNESS. 83. The Little Girl who was Lost. A little girl wandered away from home one morning and got lost in a wood. She tried in vain to find the way home again, but she could not, and then she sat down and cried, for she was so tired, and oh! =so= hungry. She thought of the many crusts of bread and pieces of meat that she had often left on her plate at home, and how glad she would have been to eat them now. It was evening when her friends found her, and took her safely home; we will hope that she remembered that hungry day in the woods, and did not waste any more pieces of bread afterwards. If you think of the many poor people who have scarcely enough to eat, you will see how wrong it is to waste anything. When we have more than we need, let us give it to those who have not enough, and never forget that (Blackboard) It is Wrong to Waste. XXXVII. LAZINESS. 84. The Sluggard. You will hear of a great king (in Story Lesson 90) who had a throne of ivory overlaid with gold. When you are old enough to read the words he wrote (Proverbs) you will find that he always kept his eyes wide open and noticed things. As the king was taking a walk one day, he passed by a vineyard, which is another name for a grape-garden, and he noticed that the wall was broken down. He looked farther, and saw that the vines were all trailing on the ground, instead of being tied up, and worse still, they were all grown over with nettles and thorns--the beautiful grape vines that give such rich, delicious fruit. "How is this?" thought the king, and he began to consider. "Ah!" said he, "this vineyard belongs to the man who likes 'a little sleep,' 'a little slumber,' and who would rather fold his hands and go to sleep again than use them to work in his garden. And what will be the end of it all? He will soon be poor, and have nothing to eat, while his lovely grapes which would have sold for money if he had looked after them, lie there buried and spoilt by the nettles and thorns." It is quite right to sleep through the dark night, but this man slept in the daytime as well, instead of weeding his garden, and tying up the grapes, so we say he was a sluggard. What an ugly word it is! Would =you= like to be a sluggard? No, indeed you would not. Then remember this:-- (Blackboard) Never be Lazy. XXXVIII. ON BEING ASHAMED. 85. The Elephant that Stole the Cakes.[16] Far away in a country called India there are many elephants, which are used for hunting, and also for carrying burdens. One evening a driver brought his elephant home, and chained him to a tree; then he went a short distance away, and made an oven to bake his cakes for supper. You will wonder how this was done. First he dug a hole in the ground, in which to place his fuel, and when he had set the fuel alight, he covered it with a flat stone or plate of iron, and on this he put his rice cakes to bake. He then covered them up with grass and stones and went away. The elephant had been watching all this, and when the man was gone, he unfastened the chain which was round his leg with his trunk, went to the oven, uncovered the cakes, and took them off with his trunk and ate them. (Perhaps he waited a little while until they cooled, for the elephant does not like his food hot.) Then he put back the grass as before, and returned to the tree. He could not manage to fasten the chain round his leg again, so he just twisted it round as well as he could, and stood with his back to the oven as if nothing had happened. By-and-by the driver returned, and went to see if his cakes were ready. They were all gone, and the elephant was peeping over his shoulder to see what would happen next. The driver knew by his guilty look that =he= was the thief; the elephant knew he had done wrong and was ashamed. Let us not do anything that we need be ashamed of. We know what is right better than the elephant, because we can think better. (Blackboard.) Do nothing that you need be ashamed of. FOOTNOTE: [16] Romanes' _Animal Intelligence_. XXXIX. EARS AND NO EARS. 86. Heedless Albert. "Listen, boys," said the teacher, "I am going to tell you about a land across the sea, not much more than twenty miles from England--the sunny land of France." So he went on to tell them of the vines loaded with grapes, from which wine is made; of the apples growing by the roadside, and of the French people, how gay and merry they are, and how neatly the poor people dress. Many more interesting things he told them, and then he said: "Now, take your papers, and write down all that you can remember about France". The boys set to work, and soon all were very busy, except one--a boy named Albert, who could not think of anything to write, and who, when the papers were collected had not managed to pen a single line. How was this, do you think? It was simply because he had =not attended= to the teacher when he was speaking, and so he could not remember anything that had been told him. One day, when Albert was about ten years old, his mother sent him to a farm for some eggs. He had not been to the farm before, but his mother told him exactly which way to go, and if he had listened he could have found it easily. In about an hour Albert came back, swinging the empty basket. He had not been able to find the farm. Why? Because he did not =attend= when his mother was telling him the way. You will readily see that a child who does not attend cannot learn much, and will never be bright and clever, nor of much use in helping others. (Blackboard.) Do not be Heedless; Listen and Attend. 87. Olive and Gertie. Olive and Gertie were walking along a country road, and high up in the sky a lark poured forth his sweet song. "How beautifully that skylark sings," said Olive; "it is worth while to come out into the country just to hear it." "I did not hear it," said Gertie, swinging her parasol. "It is there, right overhead," exclaimed Olive; "do look, Gertie; it will drop like a stone when it gets nearer the ground." "Oh! I cannot trouble to look up," replied Gertie, "it makes my neck ache." By-and-by they passed a field of oats, nearly ripe, and as the wind swayed them to and fro, they made a pleasant rustling sound. "How nice it is to hear the corn as it rustles in the wind," said Olive, "and listen, Gertie, is not this a pretty tinkling sound?" Olive had plucked one of the ears of oats, and was shaking its little bells close to her friend's ear. "It is nothing," said Gertie. "To me it is lovely," replied Olive, "and the tinkle of the harebells is just as sweet." Then a bee went buzzing by, and Olive liked to hear its drowsy hum, but Gertie did not notice it. Presently they were on the edge of the cliffs, and could hear the splash of the waves as they rolled in and broke on the beach. "Surely you like to hear 'the song of the sea,'" said Olive, but Gertie made no reply--she was thinking of something else. Do not be like Gertie, who seemed as if she had "No Ears," but, like Olive, keep your ears open to all the sweet and pleasant sounds. The fire makes a pleasant sound as it burns and crackles in the grate, and who does not like to hear the "singing" of the kettle on the hob? How musical is the flow of the stream, and do you not love to hear the splash of the oars as they dip in the river? or the sound made by the bow of the boat as it cuts through the water? Some people like to hear the "thud" of a great steamer as it ploughs its way through the sea, and everybody loves the sound of the wind as it whispers in the trees. The sounds that we hear in the fields and woods are called "voices of nature," let us listen to them, for they speak to us of God's love. (Blackboard.) Listen to the Voices of Nature; They Speak of God's Love. (Let the children enumerate some of the pleasant "sounds" mentioned, and the teacher might then write them on the Blackboard.) XL. EYES AND NO EYES. 88. The Two Brothers. Have you ever heard of the "Black Country"? It is a part of England where there are many furnaces and iron-works, and a great deal of smoke; that is why it is called by this name. Two boys, named Francis and Algie, lived in this district, for their father was an iron-worker, and one evening they went out for a long walk. They were away two or three hours, and when they returned their mother said: "Well, boys, what did you see in your walk?" "Nothing, mother," replied Algie, "there is nothing pretty to be seen; it is all black and ugly." "Ah!" said Francis, "but there was the =sky=, and that was beautiful, for we were walking towards the sunset, and the colours were changing all the time. First the sky seemed to be all over gold, and then as the sun went down it changed to red; next when I looked there were shades of a lovely green or blue, which soon changed to dark red; it was the loveliest sunset I have ever seen." How strange it was that, although both boys had eyes, only one of them saw anything worth seeing! Francis was the boy with "eyes," while Algie was as though he had "no eyes". Keep your eyes open, children, and try to see all that is beautiful. It is such a pity when people grow up and walk about without seeing anything. There is always something to see in the sky. Sometimes it is all a lovely blue, with white, fleecy clouds floating across it, or piled up in curly masses; and at night it is of a deeper blue, and the stars come peeping out, reminding us in their beauty of goodness and God:-- Thou Who hast sown the sky with stars-- Setting Thy thoughts in gold. And the silver moon, which is always changing its shape, how lovely that is! Do not forget to look for the beauty of the sky. 89. Ruby and the Wall. Little Ruby was not two years old, but she always noticed things, and tried to find out their names. One day when she was walking out with her auntie they passed a stone wall. Ruby looked at it, and then glancing up said, "Wall". "Yes," said auntie. "What is the wall made of?" "Coal," answered Ruby quite seriously. (I suppose the blocks of stone reminded her of the same shape in the coals.) "No, it is not coal," said auntie. Ruby was puzzled, and thought for a little, then she said, "Wash it". You see she had never heard the word "stone," and as her little hands, when dirty, became lighter coloured with =washing=, she thought that stone must be "washed" coal. It was wrong, of course, but it shows you that tiny Ruby used her eyes, and =thought= about things. (Blackboard.) Two kinds of eyes:-- 1. Eyes that See--Francis, Ruby. 2. Eyes that do not See--Algie. XLI. LOVE OF THE BEAUTIFUL.[17] 90. The Daisy. You have often gathered buttercups and daisies, but have you ever gazed into the daisy's yellow eye, and thought how wonderful it was? You will find that it is made up of many tiny flowerets, all packed closely together. And the fringe of white petals, tipped with pink, how beautiful =they= are! and so dainty that we might almost think they had been painted by the pencil of a fairy! And have you noticed the strong, green cup which closes round the petals at night, and keeps them all safe? You have held the pretty buttercup under your chin to make it look yellow, but have you ever looked carefully at the shining petals of gold? How smooth, and clear, and glossy they are! There was once a great, wise king, who was so rich that he had plates and cups of gold instead of china. He made a beautiful throne of ivory, with six lions on the one side and six on the other, and the throne was all overlaid with gold; how bright and glittering it would be! And then picture the king himself in his robes of state, seated on his gilded throne, how dazzling and beautiful it would all look! And yet the greatest Teacher who ever lived--He who took the little children in his arms--said that the great King Solomon, with his throne of ivory and gold, "in all his glory" was not so beautiful as the lily growing in the field. So you see the best of all beauty is close beside us, at our feet indeed, if we only have eyes to see it. Dear little modest daisy, I love your yellow eye, I love the pink-tipped petals That round the centre lie; I love the pretty buttercup Of lovely, shining gold; I love it, for it speaks to me, Of wondrous love untold. You have heard of other beautiful sights and sounds in the Story Lessons that have gone before (87, 88), and in the Story Lesson which follows you will learn =why= it is good to love all these beautiful things. FOOTNOTE: [17] The guessing rhymes, Nos. 74 to 82, headed "Natural Phenomena," in _Games Without Music_, would follow this Story Lesson appropriately. XLII. ON DESTROYING THINGS. 91. Beauty and Goodness. Why do we hang pictures on the walls, and put plants in the windows? Because we want to make the room look pretty. Why do we love the flowers and the trees, the bright green fields and the waving yellow corn? Why are we so glad to be near the sea, with its glorious, rolling waves, and to bask in the warm, bright rays of the sun? Because they are =all= beautiful, and when we love what is beautiful it helps us to love what is good; and when we love =goodness= we love God, who gave us all this beauty. Now you will see why it is so wicked to =destroy= beautiful things. When a boy carves his name on a tree, or breaks off its graceful branches, he =destroys= that which is good, instead of loving it; and how can he grow up gentle and true if he does not love beauty and goodness? Sometimes people put iron railings round their gardens, and you will have noticed that they are often finished off with a pointed pattern at the top, to make them look pretty. When a boy comes along and knocks off the points, he makes the railings look =ugly= instead of pretty. He would never think of destroying the pictures that hang on the walls of his home, or of throwing the plants away that stand in the window, yet he destroys things that are =not his=, and that other people have put there to make their houses look nice. I am sure you will say this is not right; it is =downright wrong=, just as wrong as it would be for me to go and break that boy's slate, or to snap his wickets in two when he is wanting a game of cricket, and it is all for want of =thinking=. It is quite dreadful to know that so many cruel, unkind things are done, just because boys and girls do not trouble to =think=! But I hope that =you=, dear children, =will think=, and keep your little hands from spoiling anything. (Blackboard.) It is Wrong to Spoil and Destroy. XLIII. ON TURNING BACK WHEN WRONG. 92. The Lost Path. A boy named Eric was coming home from school. There were two ways that he could take--one was a path through the fields, and the other was a winding road. It was winter time, and there was snow on the ground. Eric chose the field path, for it was the shorter of the two, but he had not gone far when it began to snow very fast. The snow-flakes were so large, and fell so quickly, that there was very soon quite a thick carpet on the ground, and before long Eric found that he could not see the path, and he scarcely knew where he was. If he had only turned round just then, he could have seen his own footprints in the snow, and following them, would have got back to the road safely, but he did not want to do this, so he went on and on until he was lost entirely, and had not the least idea as to which was the way home. Then he determined to turn back, and try to reach the road, but where are his footprints? All covered up with snow. Eric felt ready to cry, but he struggled on as long as he could, and then a great drowsiness came over him, and he fell down in the snow. It is just like that with wrong-doing, if we do not turn back at once, it becomes more and more difficult to find the path, and sometimes the wrong-doer loses it altogether. When Eric did not come home from school his parents became very anxious, and his father accompanied by the dog went out to seek him. First he took the way by the road, then he came over the field-path, and the dog ran sniffing about in the snow, until he came to what looked like a white mound, and there was Eric half-buried in the snow. You can imagine how pleased the father was when he had his boy safe in his arms, and how gladly he carried him home, for if Eric had not been found quickly, he must have died. Remember Eric in the snow, and (Blackboard.) When you have gone Wrong, Turn Back at Once. XLIV. ONE BAD "STONE" MAY SPOIL THE "TEMPLE". 93. Intemperance. From all these Story Lessons you will see that there are a great many "stones" for the building of "character". But there is another thought, which is this: a =bad= "stone," =one= bad "stone" may spoil =all= the rest. You remember we said (Story Lesson 77) that Selfishness could spoil a character. And there is another fault--I think we ought to call it a sin--that spoils the character of many an up-grown person. I mean the sin of Intemperance. You know what that is, do you not? When we say that people are intemperate, we generally mean that they take too much beer or wine, and I have known most beautiful characters spoilt by that bad "stone". When a man has lovely "stones" like Kindness, Unselfishness and Truth in his Temple, is it not a pity that these should be all eaten away by the dreadful sin of Intemperance? Even truth, the foundation, decays, and often the lovely temple of character tumbles all to ruins. What should you think is the best thing for children to do? Is it not this? Never =take= any of these things that =cause= Intemperance, and then you will never be fond of them, and they will never get the mastery of you and spoil your character. (Blackboard.) It is Better not to Take Things that Cause Intemperance. 2.--MANNERS. XLV. PRELIMINARY. (To be read first.) 94. The Watch and its Springs. You have heard the ticking of your father's watch, and have seen the hands on its face, but did you ever get a peep inside at the wonderful tiny wheels and springs? These are called the =works=, and if =they= are not right and true the hands and the face are of no use at all, because it is only when the =wheels= and =springs= work properly that the hands can tell the time correctly. It is just the same with us. If the =character= is true and good, it will not be difficult to be polite and nice in manner, for manners are the =outside= part of us (just as the hands and face are the outside parts of the watch). The kind, good thoughts =within=--in our hearts--will teach us how to behave. There is nothing that makes people so rude as thinking of self and forgetting the comfort of others; some call it "Thoughtlessness," but we fear the true name is "Selfishness". If we are =un=selfish and thoughtful for others, we shall not be likely to do anything that =hurts= people, and so we shall not be likely to be rude. In the Story Lessons on "Manners" which follow, just see if you can find out what it is that causes each rude action. You will probably say that it is "=want of thought=" for others. (The writer would ask the teacher, or mother, who reads the following Story Lessons to the little ones to emphasise this fact in each--that =thought for others= induces nice manners, while "Thoughtlessness" and "Selfishness" invariably lead to rudeness. Spoilt children, and those whose mothers are in the habit of doing everything for them, =miss= the training in "Thoughtfulness for others" which is so essential to the building up of an unselfish character; and so the mother's intended kindness is in reality =not= kindness, seeing that it causes distinct loss to the child, _viz._, =loss= of those traits of character which are the most desirable, and which tend to the greatest happiness.) XLVI. ON SAYING "PLEASE" AND "THANK YOU".[18] 95. Fairy Tale of Alec and his Toys. Alec was a merry little fellow, full of life and fun, and a great favourite with his aunties and uncles, who often gave him nice presents. The strange thing about Alec was that he always forgot to say "Thank you". No matter how beautiful the present, he would just take it and play with it, and return no thanks to the kind giver, until his mother reminded him how rude it was not to say "Thank you". Alec was not like little Vernon (Story Lesson 44), who was brimming over with thanks. One night as Alec's mother was putting him to bed, she said: "Alec, I have been reading some verses about a little girl who would not say 'Please'. She would cry 'Pass me the butter,' 'Give me some cheese'. So the fairies, 'this very rude maiden to tease,' carried her down into the woods, among the butterflies and birds and bees, until she should have learnt better manners." Alec listened with wide-open eyes fixed on his mother's face, but when she said, "I wonder what the fairies would do with a little boy who always forgets to say 'Thank you,'" his eyes dropped, and he was very quiet while his mother was tucking him in his little cot. When she had gone Alec thought to himself, "Suppose the fairies should come and take all my toys away," then he fell asleep, and this is what happened. The fairies =did= come, and Alec saw them. Such funny little fellows they were, dressed in red, with funny little wings stuck out behind, and the funniest of little peaked caps on their heads. Alec began to wonder about his toys, and sure enough they had come to fetch them. First they picked up a beautiful, long railway train, which was a present from Aunt Sophie. It took them all to lift it, there were so many carriages. (Why do they not draw it along? thought Alec.) Up on their shoulders it went. Would the peaked caps fall off? No, they were all tilted sideways, and the train was borne safely out. Soon the funny little fairies came dancing in again, laughing and rubbing their hands as they looked all about. Surely they were not going to take the Noah's ark! =That= was Uncle Jack's present, and the animals were such beauties! But that did not matter to the fairies. Slowly the ark was lifted on their shoulders; six fairies were on one side and six on the other; again the peaked caps were tilted sideways, and solemnly they all marched out. Next time they pulled out a wooden horse, papa's gift, and Alec saw that the fairies all jumped on its back, and then a funny thing happened--the horse walked out of its own accord. Again and again they came in and bore away one precious toy after another, until there was nothing left but grandpapa's gift--the tricycle. Surely they will leave that! Alec never knew until now how much he loved his toys; but here they are again, and, yes! they are actually bringing out the tricycle. One sits on the saddle, one on each pedal, and all the rest on the handle-bar. Now the pedals go round, and, strange to say, the funny little men do not fall off. The tricycle seems to go of itself, as the horse did. And now, oh dear! =everything= is gone, and Alec thinks he is worse off than the little girl who was carried away by the fairies. Morning comes! Alec wakes and rubs his eyes; what has happened? Oh! the toys! Quick as thought he is out of bed, and off to the playroom in his night-dress. Where are the toys? All there, just as he left them last night. "It was only a dream, then," said Alec; "how glad I am that it is not true, but all the same I =will= remember to say 'Thank you' in future," and he did. (Blackboard.) Always Remember to say "Please" and "Thank you," not in a Whisper, but loudly enough to be Heard. FOOTNOTE: [18] Nos. 15, 18 and 19 in _Games Without Music_ are games that might be used in connection with above Story Lesson. XLVII. ON BEING RESPECTFUL. 96. If you should see the sailors on board ship when they are receiving orders from the captain, you will notice how polite and respectful they are. They never forget to say "Yes, sir," or "No, sir," when he speaks to them. Perhaps the captain was once a little cabin-boy himself, and he, in his turn, had to learn to be respectful to his captain. But it is not only on board ship that it is necessary to be respectful; children should always remember to say "Sir" or "Ma'am" when speaking to a gentleman or lady, wherever they may be. In France the word "madam" is used when addressing a lady, but in our country the "d" is mostly left out, and we say only "ma'am". (Show the two words, "madam" and "ma'am" on blackboard.) No one thinks a boy or girl well-behaved who answers "Yes," or "No"; it is blunt and rude. You can always say "Sir" and "Ma'am," even if you do not know the name of the person to whom you are speaking, and in answering your father or mother you should always say "Yes, father," or "No, mother," as the case may be. (Blackboard.) To answer "Yes," "No"--it is blunt, and is rude, But "Yes, sir" or "No, ma'am" are both right and good; "Yes, father," "No, mother," polite children say, And these are good rules to remember each day. XLVIII. PUTTING FEET UP. 97. Alice and the Pink Frock. You have often heard grown-up people say to little children, "Behave nicely," or "Mind your manners"; I wonder if you know just what they mean. There is a little word that describes people who have =not= nice manners--we say they are =rude=. Try to find out who was rude in this story. One bright day in April little Alice was dressed all ready for a birthday party. She had on a pretty, new pink frock, of which she was very proud, and over this she wore a cloak, but the cloak was not quite long enough to cover =all= the pretty dress, for which Alice was not sorry. She was all the more pleased about the party because she had to go by train. It was only three miles, but Alice thought that was quite a long journey for a little girl of ten to take all by herself. Her mother brought her to the station, and when the train came up, Alice jumped in and sat near the window, opposite to a tall, nicely-dressed boy. Now before Alice came into the carriage, what do you think the boy had been doing? He had been sitting with his feet up on the cushions opposite, and his boots were very muddy. Can you guess the rest? Poor Alice sat down on the muddy patches left by the boy's dirty, wet boots, and her pretty pink frock was spoilt. Can you tell who was rude in this story? "The boy was rude." What did he do that was rude? "He put his feet up." Then we will say, "It is rude to put our feet up". The proper place for feet is the floor. What effect did the boy's rudeness have on Alice? (or to younger children): How did the boy's rudeness make Alice feel? It made her unhappy. Then I think we might say that manners are =rude= when they make other people =uncomfortable= or =unhappy=. Write on Blackboard and let the children repeat the following:-- What is it to be rude? If in our work or in our play We take our friend's comfort away, And make him sad instead of gay, Why that is to be rude. XLIX. BANGING DOORS. 98. How Maurice came home from School. How is it that boys and girls so often forget to close the door quietly? When Maurice went out to school in the afternoon he knew that his mother had a headache, but by the time he came home he had forgotten all about it, and so he stamped in with his muddy shoes unwiped, leaving the front door wide open. His mother said, "Close the door, Maurice," and he gave it a great bang, which made her shudder. Next he walked into the room, flung his bag on a chair, his cap on the floor, and his overcoat on the sofa. Then he said in a loud voice, "Well, mother, how's your head?" His poor mother felt almost too sad to answer him; she had so often told her little boy about hanging up his coat and other things, and had tried so hard to teach him to be gentle and polite, instead of rough and rude; but you see Maurice was =thoughtless=, and did not remember the nice things he had been taught. Take care, Maurice! or you will have the ugly stone of "Selfishness" in your Temple. A boy who is not kind to his mother is the worst kind of boy, and will find it difficult to grow up into a good and noble man. 99. Lulu and the Glass Door. When Lulu was a little girl, she lived with her auntie and uncle. The front door of their house was made half of glass, and there was a shutter which covered the glass part of the door at night. Lulu's auntie told her that when it was windy weather she must go round to the =back= door, lest the front door should get a bang, and some of the panes of glass be broken. I am afraid Lulu did not always remember to obey her auntie, for one very windy morning she came home from school, and went as usual to the front door. She managed to open it and to get inside safely, then the door closed with a loud bang, for the wind was very strong, and it happened just as auntie had feared--a large pane of glass fell out of the door, and was shivered into a thousand pieces. Auntie was very angry, and Lulu was so unhappy, and cried so much that she could not eat her dinner. When her uncle came home and heard the story, and knew how sorry Lulu was, he said: "Oh, well, dry your tears, we will call and ask old James to come and mend the door, and my little girl must do what auntie tells her next time". So Lulu trotted back to afternoon school, holding to the hand of her kind uncle, and they called to tell James to put a new pane of glass into the door. But Lulu has not forgotten her disobedience, and the banging of auntie's door, although it is now more than forty years ago. (Blackboard.) Close Doors Softly. L. PUSHING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. 100. The Big Boy and the Little Lady. The Queen was in London, and as the time drew near when she was expected to drive through the park, many people stood on the sidewalk to see her carriage pass. A little lady who was walking through the park thought she would stand with the others to see Her Majesty, and as she was too short to look over the heads of the people, she found a place at the edge of the crowd near the roadway. By-and-by they heard a cheer in the distance, and knew that the Queen's carriage had come out of the palace gates. At that very moment some one came pushing through the people, and before the little lady had time to speak, a great big boy brushed rudely past, and stood in front of her. The lady touched him on the arm, and he turned round, and saw that it was a friend of his mother's whom he had been treating so rudely. He raised his cap at once, and, blushing with shame, begged the lady's pardon, and took a place behind her. But if the lady had been a perfect stranger, it would have been equally wrong for the boy to act like that. It is always rude to push, whether we are entering a tramcar, a railway train, or going to some place of amusement; let us remember this:-- (Blackboard) It is Rude to Push in Front of People. LI. KEEPING TO THE RIGHT.[19] 101. When you have been walking down the street, has it ever happened that you could scarcely move for the people who are blocking up the causeway? That is because they do not keep to the right. In London, where the streets are so busy, it would be impossible to get along if people did not keep to the right. What accidents we should have in the streets if the drivers did not remember to keep to their proper side of the road, which is the left! And how often the ships at sea would go bumping against each other if they did not remember always to keep to the right in passing those that are coming in an opposite direction! If you are ever puzzled as to how you should pass people in the street (Blackboard) Keep to the Right. FOOTNOTE: [19] No. 13, in _Games Without Music_ illustrates above. LII. CLUMSY PEOPLE. 102. I wonder if you know any boys and girls who are clumsy. I am always a little sorry for clumsy people; they seem to be so often in trouble. If the clumsy boy is allowed to collect the slates, he is sure to send some of them sliding on to the floor with a noise like thunder; or if he gathers the books in a pile it is sure to topple over, and the books are scattered in every direction. The clumsy people tread on our toes, step on a lady's dress and tear it maybe, or bump against baby's cot in passing and wake the little sleeper. Do you think we could find out the secret of being clumsy? Is not it for want of taking =care=? You remember Elinor, in Story Lesson 79, how she upset her tea, broke the vase, and spoilt the tablecloth, all for want of =care=? It is the same with clumsy people--they forget to take care? The books and slates are not piled =carefully=, that is why they tumble; they bulge out here and go in there, instead of being smooth and straight on every side. If you do not want to be clumsy (Blackboard) Take Pains, and be Careful in all you do. LIII. TURNING ROUND WHEN WALKING. 103. The Girl and her Eggs. Have you ever seen a girl walking along the street with her head turned backwards, trying to look behind her as she goes? Of course she does not walk straight, for she is not looking where she is going. It would be better if she =did= either look where she is going or turn quite round, and go where she is looking. A girl was coming along the street one day with a paper bag full of eggs, looking behind her all the time. A lady, who was walking in the opposite direction, tried to get out of her way, but as we said before, the girl could not walk straight when her eyes were turned backward, and as the lady stepped to one side to avoid her, the girl in her zigzag walk came to the same side and bumped up against the lady. Crash! went the eggs, and a yellow stream ran down the pretty blue dress worn by the lady. What would the girl's mother say when her eggs were all wasted? This is a true story, and you will agree that the girl was very silly to walk along with her head turned round. You see we have no eyes behind our head, nor even at the side; they are at the front, so (Blackboard) Look where you are Going. LIV. ON STARING. 104. Ruth and the Window. There was once a girl named Ruth, who was in many respects very well-behaved indeed. For instance, you would never hear her reply to her mother without saying "Yes, mother," or "No, mother," and she never banged the door or came into a room noisily, but she had =one= fault that was really very bad. As Ruth went on her way to school each day, she passed a house that had its dining-room window facing the street. The window was rather low, and every time that Ruth went by she would walk slowly, and stare into the room all the time. If the people were at dinner it made no difference--she still gazed in. You will think this exceedingly rude, as indeed it was, but it is quite true nevertheless. One day a lady came to the school that Ruth attended; she was driven there in her carriage, and remained talking to the teacher after the children had been dismissed. Presently she said, "Good afternoon," and left, and the teacher, happening to glance out of the window, was vexed to see that a number of the scholars had gathered round the carriage, and were staring in, and staring at the lady as she took her seat. Next day the children were told how rude this was, and we hope that Ruth learnt at the same time how rude it is to stare into people's houses. Another day some Japanese ladies came to the school to see the children drill; they were dressed so differently from English people, and looked so funny with their little slanting eyes, and their shiny, black hair dressed high, with no bonnet to cover it, that the children were tempted to stare again, but the teacher had told them that it would be rude to stare at the ladies. "You may glance at them," said she, "but do not keep your eyes fixed on them." It is natural to wish to look at curious things, but we can be careful to take our eyes away when we have glanced, so that we do not stare, and make the person uncomfortable, for you remember we said that anything was rude which caused people to be uncomfortable (p. 110). There was a little boy in church who had just the same rude habit as Ruth. He would sit or stand at the end of the pew, and turn his head round to see what was passing behind. He did not take just a little glance, and then turn his eyes back again--even that would have been rude--but he kept his gaze fixed behind for ever so long. Do you know =why= we do not look about in church? It is because we go there to worship the Great God, to hear of Him, and think about Him, and we cannot do this if we are looking about, and thinking of other things. Why do we close our eyes when we pray? It is so that we may think of what we are saying; if we kept them open, we should be thinking of what we were =seeing= instead, should we not? (Blackboard.) It is Rude to Stare. LV. WALKING SOFTLY. 105. Florence Nightingale. A long time ago there was a war, and the English soldiers went out to fight. Many of the poor fellows were wounded, and a kind lady, who is now quite old, went from England to nurse the brave soldiers. Her name was Florence Nightingale, and it is a name that everybody loves. The soldiers had never been nursed by a lady before, and she was so kind and gentle, they loved her more than I can tell you--so much, indeed, that they would kiss her shadow on the pillow as she walked softly through the rooms where they lay. If you have ever been in a hospital you will know how quietly the nurses move about. Why is it? Because a noise would disturb the poor sufferers. But it is not nice for people who are well either to hear children stamping about as if they would send their feet through the floor. Have you noticed how softly pussy moves? It is because she walks on her toes. We have to wear shoes on our feet, and cannot help making a little noise, but we must remember to step on our toes, and move as quietly as possible. (Blackboard.) Try always to Walk Softly. LVI. ANSWERING WHEN SPOKEN TO.[20] 106. The Civil Boy. One day a lady was passing through a country village, and not being quite sure as to which was the right road to take, she went up to some boys who were playing on the green to inquire. "Can you tell me, please, which is the way to East Thorpe?" asked the lady. "Yes, ma'am," said one of the boys, raising his cap, "you walk straight past the church, and then take the first road to the right." The lady thanked the boy, and bade him "Good-day," and as he replied "Good-day, ma'am," and again raised his cap, she thought to herself, "What a civil, polite boy! He is very poorly dressed, but he has the manners of a gentleman, and how nicely he answered when I spoke to him; I must tell Dorothy about it." Dorothy was the lady's little niece, and had been staying with her some time. One afternoon auntie had taken Dorothy with her to call at the house of a friend, and when the lady spoke kindly to the little girl, and asked her name and where she lived, Dorothy only smiled and looked foolish, and did not speak or answer. Her auntie was very much surprised, and perhaps felt a wee bit ashamed of her little niece that afternoon. Children should never be bold and forward, but they =should= look up and answer a question fearlessly and clearly when they are asked one; it is so foolish to simper and not speak. (Blackboard.) Always Answer when you are Spoken To. FOOTNOTE: [20] Nos. 12, 27 and 28 in _Games Without Music_ might follow above. LVII. ON SPEAKING LOUDLY. 107. The Woman who Shouted. The train had just steamed into the railway station, when a porter opened the carriage door to let a lady step in--at least she =looked= like a lady, and was dressed most elegantly. Her gown was of silk, over which she wore a rich fur-lined cloak, and her bonnet was quite smart with feathers and flowers. As she drew off her gloves, you could not help noticing that her fingers were covered with glittering rings. "Surely she must be going to some grand concert, or to a party," thought we. But listen to what happened next! Just before the train started she suddenly opened the carriage window, and leaning out as far as ever she could, shouted in a loud, rough voice, so loudly that all the people round could hear, "Heigh! you porter there, is my luggage all right?" Then she closed the window and sat down, and we felt that in spite of her finery she was a rude, rough woman, for a lady is gentle, and would never speak in a loud, coarse voice that grates on those who hear it. Never speak too loudly either out of doors or elsewhere; keep always a soft, sweet voice. Speak gently, for a gentle voice Is loved, like music sweet; Coarse tones and loud are out of place At home or on the street. LVIII. ON SPEAKING WHEN OTHERS ARE SPEAKING. 108. Margery and the Picnic. It was holiday time, and Margery had gone to play with her little friend Helena Poynter, who lived in the next street but one. They were in a little summer-house at the end of the garden, having a happy time with their dolls, and Helena was telling Margery that her father had promised to take them all for a picnic to the hills next day. They were to drive there in a coach, papa, mamma, Helena, and her brothers, who were all at home for the holidays. Just then Helena's mamma came walking down the garden. "Good-morning, Margery," said she, and Margery stood up at once and returned her greeting. "I have been thinking," said Mrs. Poynter, "that you would like to join our picnic to-morrow, and I am sure we could find room for one more on the coach." "Oh! thank you, ma'am," said Margery, "I should like it so much; I will run round and ask mother at once," and off she ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. Margery came into the house bubbling over with the good news, and anxious to tell it all to her mother immediately, but she found that a lady had called and was talking to her mother, so she just waited quietly until the conversation was ended before she spoke a word, for Margery knew that (Blackboard) It is Rude to Speak when Other People are Speaking. You will see now why we sit quietly in church, or at an entertainment, or in a room when any one is singing or playing--it is because we do not wish to be rude, and it =is= rude to speak when any one else is speaking, or praying, or reading aloud, or singing, or playing music for us. You will like to know that Margery was allowed to go to the picnic, and she enjoyed it very much. LIX. LOOK AT PEOPLE WHEN SPEAKING TO THEM. 109. Fred and his Master. In a previous Story Lesson, No. 106, we spoke of a village boy who, you remember, answered the lady politely, when she inquired her way. His name was Fred, and when a gentleman came to the school that Fred attended one day, and said he wanted an office-boy, the schoolmaster called Fred up to the desk. The boy looked so bright and honest, and said, "Yes, sir" so politely, that the gentleman thought he would do, and the next week Fred began his work. Sometimes he had to sit at a desk and do writing; one morning as he sat thus, the master came in to speak to him. What do you think Fred did? He rose from his stool at once, turned towards his master, and stood while he was speaking. The master was giving Fred instructions about his work, and as soon as he had finished, Fred looked up and replied, "Yes, sir, I will attend to it". We have learnt two lessons from Fred, what are they? (Blackboard.) 1. To Stand up when Spoken to. 2. To Look up when Speaking to any one. LX. ON TALKING TOO MUCH. 110. One evening a number of friends met together at a little party. First they all had tea, and after tea was over they sat round the fire to talk, for some of them had not seen each other for a long time. But there was one lady there who had so much to say that scarcely any one else could get a chance to speak. She talked and talked nearly all the evening. Sometimes we =expect= one person to speak all the time, as when we go to hear a lecture, or to listen to a sermon in church, but when people meet together for conversation, it is much pleasanter to hear =more= than one speak. Another time three children were having dinner with some grown-up people, and a lady who was there told me that one of the children, a little girl about eight years of age, talked continually, so that even the grown-up people had scarcely an opportunity of speaking. So you see it is quite possible for people to be made uncomfortable by a child speaking too much, as well as by a child that refuses to speak at all (Dorothy in Story Lesson 106). Perhaps you have been in a railway carriage where a little boy has never ceased asking questions and talking during the whole journey. Years ago children used to be told that "they must be seen and not heard". We do not often say that now, but we must remember that it is rude to take up all the conversation, or even more than our share. I believe it is more than rude--it is selfish. We must learn to listen to other people as well as to talk ourselves. (Blackboard.) Do not be too Fond of Hearing Yourself Talk; Learn to Listen as well. LXI. GOING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. 111. Minnie and the Book. One evening Minnie sat at the table preparing her lessons. Her father and mother, with an aunt who had called to see them, were seated at the hearth. In a little while Minnie found that she required a book from the bookcase, which stood in a recess to the left of the fireplace, so she rose from the table, and, without speaking a word, walked in =front= of her aunt and in =front= of her father to reach the book. Her aunt looked up in astonishment, and her father exclaimed: "Minnie, how =rude= you are!" Why was Minnie rude? Because she did not say "Excuse me, please," both to her aunt and her father. We ought =not= to go in front of any one, if we can by any means avoid it; but, if it is impossible to get behind, we must never forget to say those little words which Minnie so rudely forgot. 112. The Man and his Luggage. A gentleman was travelling in a railway train, and, as there was no one else in the carriage, he placed his portmanteau and other luggage on the rack =opposite= to where he sat instead of overhead. At the next station several people entered the carriage, and, when the gentleman wanted to get out, he was obliged to reach up in front of the people sitting opposite to get his luggage. But he did not forget to say, "Excuse me, please". (Blackboard.) When Passing in Front of others, or when Reaching in Front, always say "Excuse me, please". LXII. WHEN TO SAY "I BEG YOUR PARDON". 113. I was talking to a lady one day, and not happening to hear something that I said, she exclaimed in a loud voice, "=What?=" I was as much astonished as Minnie's aunt was in Story Lesson 111, and quite forgot what I had intended to say next. What should the lady have said? She should have said, "I beg your pardon". Perhaps she had forgotten herself just that one time. Suppose you are sitting at table next to mother, who is pouring the tea; perhaps there is no bread and butter near enough for her to reach, and you do not notice that her plate is empty. She is obliged to ask you to pass her something, and as you do so you feel sorry that you have not done it =without= being asked, and you say, "I beg your pardon, mother". Some people leave out the "=I=," and say "Beg your pardon," or "Beg pardon," but the proper words are, "I beg your pardon". 114. The Lady and the Poor Boy. A young lady was hurrying down a street, and, as she turned the corner quickly, she nearly ran against a little ragged boy, but by putting out her arms she just managed to save him from being hurt. Then she rested her hands on his shoulders, and said in a sweet voice: "I beg your pardon, my boy". The boy was greatly surprised that any one should beg =his= pardon; he had not been accustomed to have people speak politely to him, but the lady knew that it is just as important to be polite to a beggar as to a fine gentleman. We should, of course, try =not= to run against people, and be careful =not= to step on a lady's dress or on any one's toes, but if by accident we =do= make any of these blunders, we must remember to say, "I beg your pardon". (Blackboard.) When you do not Hear what is said to you, When you Forget to pass a Plate, When you Bump against any one, When you Hurt any one in any way, Do not Forget to say, "I Beg your Pardon". LXIII. RAISING CAP. 115. Why is it, do you think, that a boy raises his cap? It is to show respect to the lady or gentleman whom he is passing or speaking to. That was why the boy raised his cap to the lady in Story Lesson 106, and said "Yes, ma'am;" he wished to show her respect. Soldiers do not raise their caps to the general or captain; they salute (that is, they raise the forefinger of right hand to forehead), but it answers the same purpose--it shows their respect. Why do men and boys take off their caps and hats when they enter a church or chapel? It is to show reverence to the God of all who is worshipped there. Boys should always remember to raise their caps when a lady or gentleman bows or speaks to them, and also when they enter a house or other place, such as a church or chapel. LXIV. ON OFFERING SEAT TO LADY. 116. A number of soldiers were one day riding in a car, indeed the car was quite full of soldiers; and at the end there was a general, that is the man who is at the head of the soldiers. Presently the car stopped, and a poor old woman entered, but there was no room for her to sit, and not one of the soldiers had the good manners to offer her his seat. So the woman walked to the end of the car where the general sat, that she might stand where she would not be in any one's way, but the kind general rose instantly, and gave her his place; that was courteous and kind of him, was it not? Then several of the other soldiers stood, and asked the general to be seated, but he said: "No, there was no seat for the poor woman, so there is none for me". The soldiers were very much ashamed, and soon left the car. =Why= did the general offer his seat to the old woman? For the same reason that the boy raises his cap--to show respect to her. You know how father takes care of mother and lifts heavy weights for her, and how brothers take care of sisters, and so if there is not room for everybody to sit, a man or boy will rise, and let a woman have his place; and they do all this partly because they are strong and like to do kind acts, and partly because it is nice and right to be courteous to women. But a kind woman does not like always to take the seat that is offered to her. The man may be old or weak, then the woman would say, "Thank you, I will stand," for she sees that the man needs the seat more than she does. And if a man had been working hard all day (never sitting down at all maybe), and he should be coming home tired at night, in the train or tramcar, one would not like to let =him= stand, and give up his place. It is nice and polite for a man to =offer= his seat, and the lady should always say, "Thank you," whether she takes it or not. A very old man entered a crowded railway carriage, and a young girl who was sitting near the door stood up at once and offered the old man her place, for she knew that he was too weak to stand. So you see that sometimes it is right for a girl or woman to give up her seat; we must not let the men do =all= the kind, polite actions. LXV. ON SHAKING HANDS. 117. Reggie and the Visitors. One afternoon I called with a friend to see a lady at whose house I had not been before; she was very pleased to see us, and brought her little boy, Reggie, into the room where we sat. "Shake hands with the ladies, Reggie," said his mother; but Reggie refused, and hid his face in her dress. She explained that he was shy, and went on coaxing him to come and speak to us. After a great deal of talking and persuading, he consented to come and shake hands, =if= his mother would come with him. So she brought him across the room, and held out his hand, just as you hold out the arm of your doll, when you play at shaking hands with her. Would =you= make all that fuss and trouble about shaking hands with any one? I hope not. It is so silly, as well as ill-mannered. After this Reggie sat down in a little chair, and tried to put his feet up on a small table that was near--but you will not care to hear about such a badly-behaved little boy. And it was not very long before his mother had to take him from the room screaming, he was so tiresome and naughty. If Reggie had tried to please his mother and her visitors, instead of his little =self=, everybody would have been much happier, and I am sure =he= would, for selfish people cannot be happy. Think =first= of others, =last= of self, Be friendly, kindly all around; Shake hands with strangers, be polite, Unselfish, sweet be always found. LXVI. KNOCKING BEFORE ENTERING A ROOM. 118. The Boy who Forgot. A lady was sitting in a cottage one morning talking to the person who lived there, when suddenly, and without any warning knock, or even a little tap, some one lifted the latch noisily, and pushing the door wide open, burst into the room, asking, "What time is it?" The lady looked up to see who the rude intruder could be, and beheld a little, rosy-faced boy. She called him to her, and placing her hand on his shoulder said kindly: "My little fellow, do you not know that you should =knock= at a door before entering, and should say, '=Please=, will you tell me the time?'" The boy hung his head and looked ashamed, but we hope he remembered what the lady said to him, and I hope also that none of you ever forget to (Blackboard) Knock at the Door before Entering a Room. LXVII. HANGING HATS UP, ETC. 119. Careless Percy. You did not admire the boy (Story Lesson No. 98) who threw his bag here, his cap there, and his coat somewhere else, did you? neither will you be likely to admire the little boy in this story. But come with me--I will take you into the bedroom of a boy named Percy, who has gone to a party. I am afraid you can scarcely get inside though, for everything he has taken off is lying on the floor. His coat is flung behind the door, his collar lies inside the fender, and his trousers are beside the bed. He has been playing on the bed, you see, for it is all tossed, and one of the pillows has tumbled on the floor. Let as take a peep into the nursery, where Percy's play-things are. There is a railway train on the floor, just as he has been playing with it; and beyond the train, where he had made a huge castle with all the bricks he could find, the floor is all strewn over with bricks from the castle, which has tumbled down. Who will pick up all these things, and tidy the two rooms that Percy has left in such a dreadful state? His mother, maybe, who has so many other things to do. Would =you= leave all your clothes scattered on the floor for some one else to pick up, instead of folding them neatly yourself? or would you like another to have the trouble of putting away all your toys? No, I am sure you would not. None of us want to be selfish, but if Percy does not mind, =he= will grow up selfish, because he is not taking thought for others. Hang up your cap and coat, And put away your toys, Save mother all the work you can, Dear little girls and boys. The recitation, "Two Little Maids" (_New Recitations for Infants_) would follow this Story Lesson appropriately. LXVIII. HOW TO OFFER SWEETS, ETC. 120. How Baby Did it. Some one had brought baby a parcel of sweets. They were rather sticky, but baby did not mind that when the colours were so pretty! There were pink, blue, red and yellow sweets, and she was greatly pleased with them. Baby was very kind and unselfish, so she wanted us all to share her sweets, and picking one out with her little chubby fingers, (which were not any too clean), she offered it to mamma. You see baby was very tiny, and had not yet learnt that sweets should always be offered in the paper or box, and not be touched by the fingers at all. But mamma explained this to her, and then baby lifted up the paper, and trotted round to everybody, holding it out, and saying, "Please, take one". Fruit and nuts should be offered in a plate or dish. It is not nice to touch with our fingers anything that we are offering to others. (Blackboard.) Always offer Sweets in the Paper or Box. LXIX. YAWNING, COUGHING, AND SNEEZING. 121. I daresay you have sometime been in a room where a person was sleepy, and kept yawning continually. You know that by-and-by you begin to do the same yourself, and it is very disagreeable. A good plan is to run out of the room and bathe your face in cold water: that will soon make you feel bright again. It is not nice to yawn, because it makes other people feel sleepy, and we should never forget to cover the mouth with the hand: it is very rude to open the mouth wide, and not to put the hand in front of it. In coughing and sneezing, people should make as little noise as they possibly can. Sometimes we hear coughing in church, and the minister can scarcely speak for the noise. A pocket-handkerchief will soften the sound a good deal, both in coughing and sneezing. These are only little things, but they can make others feel uncomfortable, and you remember we said that it was rude to do =anything= that caused people to be uncomfortable (p. 110), so do not forget to (Blackboard) Cover the Mouth when Yawning; Make as Little Noise as Possible when Coughing or Sneezing. LXX. HOW A SLATE SHOULD NOT BE CLEANED. 122. You will have noticed that there is always moisture in your mouth. Where do you think it comes from? Perhaps you did not know that there were six tiny fountains in your mouth, two on each side the tongue, and one in each cheek. When you are well these little fountains pour out the fluid which keeps your mouth so nice and moist. Sometimes when people are ill the little fountains do not flow, and the mouth is all dry and parched, and they are longing to drink all the time. The fluid that comes from the tiny wells is called saliva, and, when we eat, it mixes with the food in the mouth, and goes down with it into the stomach. But this is what I want you to learn, the saliva is never to be sent out of the mouth in the way that is called "spitting" (an ugly word, is it not?), and you must remember never to do this, not even when you are cleaning your slate. You may breathe on your slate, and rub it dry with your slate rag, though that is not a very nice way. The best plan of all is to have a damp sponge, as well as a slate rag, and a well-mannered child would have both. If there is anything in your mouth that needs to come away, take it out with your pocket-handkerchief, and remember that the proper way is to (Blackboard) Clean your Slate with a Damp Sponge, and Dry with a Slate Rag, not with a Pocket-handkerchief. LXXI. THE POCKET-HANDKERCHIEF. 123. Guessing Rhyme.[21] You have me in your pocket, I'm square and white, 'tis true, And many things I'm used for By children such as you. (Let children guess answer.--Pocket-handkerchief.) There is moisture in the nose as well as in the mouth, and we keep a handkerchief in our pocket to take the moisture away, when it makes us uncomfortable. A nice, clean child will never be without a pocket-handkerchief, and he will use it =without having to be told=. In using a pocket-handkerchief, as in coughing and sneezing, we should make as little noise as possible, and we should try not to have to use it at table. If it is necessary to do so, we must turn our head away, as we should do if we were obliged to cough or sneeze. (Blackboard.) Use Pocket-handkerchief Without Being Told, Making as Little Noise as Possible. FOOTNOTE: [21] _Games Without Music_, No. 55. LXXII. HOW TO BEHAVE AT TABLE. (ON SITTING STILL AT TABLE.) 124. Phil's Disaster. Phil was a little boy, and sat on a high chair at the table. He was very fond of tilting his chair backwards and forwards, which was not well-mannered, you will say. One dinner time, just as all the dishes had been placed on the table, and Phil was tilting back as far as ever he could, it happened that the chair lost its balance, and fell over backwards, taking Phil with it; and as he grasped the tablecloth in falling, he drew it with all the dishes on the top of him. Many of the dishes were broken, and the dinner was all scattered and spoilt. Surely Phil would never tilt his chair again. 125. Fidgety Katie. Have you ever sat at table with a child who was never still? Such a child was Katie! Instead of waiting quietly until every one was served, she would fidget about on her chair, put her little fat arms on the table (which you know is a very rude thing to do), and move from side to side all the time. When at last she was served, her dinner would be quickly eaten, and then she was impatient to be gone, and kept asking mother if she might not leave the table, and go to her book or her play. Now if Katie had thought a little of others, she would not have made everybody uncomfortable by being so restless. When she was waiting to be served, and when she had finished, she should have sat quietly with her hands in her lap. These two stories teach us that (Blackboard) We must Sit Still at Table. (THINKING OF OTHERS AT TABLE.) 126. The Helpful Little Girl. A very different child from restless Katie (Story Lesson 125) was Hilda, whose mother had died, and left her little ones to the care of auntie. When the dinner-bell rang, Hilda would run into the room, and see that all the chairs were in their places round the table, especially baby's, for he was much too little to bring his own chair. It was Hilda who lifted baby into his place, and tied on his "feeder"; and when his plate was passed, she prepared his food, and took care that it was not too hot for him. Hilda's bright eyes were always ready to see anything that was needed: "Shall I pass you the salt, grandpapa?" "May I give you a little water, auntie?" No wonder auntie said that Hilda was just like sunshine in the house, and the reason was that she thought so little of herself, and so much of those around her. Let us try to be like Hilda; she was much happier, I am sure, than restless Katie, for there is nothing nicer than to bring sunshine into the lives of others, and this we do by being helpful. (Blackboard.) Think of Others when you are at Table; Pass Things and Help all you can. (UPSETTING THINGS AT TABLE.) 127. Leslie and the Christmas Dinner We heard of people who were clumsy in another Story Lesson (No. 102), and I am afraid Leslie was a little like them. It was Christmas Day, and there was a large family party at grandmamma's, to which Leslie and his mother were invited. The dinner-table looked beautiful with its snow-white cloth and shining silver, and its decorations of Christmas roses and red-berried holly. The dinner-bell rang, and the guests took their places at the table. Leslie bounced into the room, and was sitting down on the last chair, all in a hurry, when he somehow caught the tablecloth, and by dragging it upset the gravy, and sent it streaming all over the nice, clean cloth. Leslie was very sorry, and his mother was so uncomfortable at the thought of his clumsiness, that I am afraid the dinner was spoilt for =her=. From Leslie we learn to (Blackboard) Sit Down Carefully, so as not to Upset Anything. 128. Cherry Stones. If you were eating plum tart or cherry pudding, how should you manage with the stones? (Let children try to answer.) When a little bird eats a cherry, he drops the stone on the ground; the bird has no spoon and fork to eat with, so that is the best thing he can do. One day a boy, named Kenneth, was invited out to dinner, and one of the dishes was cherry tart. There was a custard pudding as well, but Kenneth thought he would like cherry tart better, and he did not remember that the stones might be a difficulty until he began to eat it. He felt sure that it was not right to drop them out of his mouth on to the plate, and he could not think what else to do. He looked round the table, but no one else was taking cherry tart, or he might have noticed what another person did. At last he determined that he would keep all the cherry stones in his cheek until dinner was over, and put them out afterwards, when no one was looking. But presently some one told a funny little story, and, as Kenneth could not help laughing with the rest, out came the cherry stones, to his great dismay. The best way is to separate the stone from the cherry on your plate with the spoon and fork, but if you cannot manage this, take the stone from your mouth with the spoon, and put it gently on the edge of the plate. Everybody has to learn these things, and as no one had happened to tell Kenneth, of course he did not know. LXXIII. ON EATING AND DRINKING. 129. Key E. {:s |d :m |m :m |l :r |r } 1. I must not fill my mouth too full, {:r |f :r |s :r |m :-- |-- } Nor ver - y quick - ly eat, {:m |r :f |m :s |f :l |s } But take a small piece, chew it well, {:l |s :m |s :r |d :-- |-- } And fin - ish all my meat. 2. Food should be carried to my mouth Upon the fork, I see; The knife is used to cut, and ought Not near the lips to be. 3. When pudding comes, the =point= of spoon Within the mouth may go, But soup or broth is taken from The =side= of it you know. 4. Without a noise I eat and drink, I must not spill my food, Nor scald my mouth, nor make complaint, "This is not nice, not good". 130. Key E. {|m :-- |m :m |f :f |f :-- } 1. Small bites of bread we take, {|r :-- |r :r |m :s |s :-- } And chew it well be - fore {|l :-- |d :l |s :m |m :-- } We drink our tea or milk; {|m :-- |r :l |s :s |s :-- } We must not ask for more {|f :-- |r :l |s :m |s :-- } Un - til we've finished quite, {|m :-- |r :m |d :d |d :-- } For that would not be right. 2. If handkerchiefs we use, Or sneeze or cough, we try, When seated at our food, To do it quietly; And don't forget, I pray, To turn your head away. 3. When we have finished, then The knife and fork should lie Together on our plate, And hands rest quietly Within the lap,[22] this wise, Until mamma shall rise. (Explain that children should not leave table until mother has done so, unless she gives them permission.) FOOTNOTE: [22] Fold hands in lap. LXXIV. FINALE. 131. How another Queen Builded. A great many years ago, a little girl played in a garden in London. Her father was dead, but she had a dear, good mother, who taught her to build for herself a good and beautiful character, for the mother knew that this would be a better thing for the little girl to have than gold or diamonds, because as the Fairy Queen told us, it =lasts for ever=. As time went on the little girl grew up, and became a great queen. She has been a queen now for more than sixty years, and I do not think there ever was so good a queen, and we are sure there never was one so dearly loved. The queen has a beautiful gold crown, and beautiful castles and palaces to live in, but these are not the things she values most. Best of all, she has all those lovely jewels in her character that we have been speaking about, with "Truth" for the foundation, and it is all woven round with the pure gold of "Kindness"; these are the jewels that are more precious to the great queen than crowns and costly stones. Do you know the name of this queen? It is our own Queen Victoria. Why do we love her so much? Not because she is a queen, simply, for queens have sometimes been wicked, but because she is good, and true, and kind, and these jewels make up the something that we call "character," which when built like this is more beautiful than the Fairies' Temple. And just think of it: =every= little boy and girl may build up a good, true character, which is the most precious thing you can have. The Story Lessons in this book have been written to help each one of =you= who hear them to build up this beautiful Temple of Character. The queen believes that a =good= "character" is the best thing in the world, and I want you all to think so too. A man who was put in prison for preaching wrote a beautiful book,[23] which you will read when you are older, and in it there is this story. The story tells of a man who spent all his time raking up rubbish on the floor to find gold and other things, and =never once looked up=. But all the time there was an angel standing behind him with a beautiful crown in her hand, which she wanted the man to have, but he never saw it. That is like the people who think of nothing but =self=, instead of "looking up" and thinking of the beautiful "stones" that build up the "Temple," which is such a good thing to have, just as the crown was, which the man did not see. Let us look up and see all that is beautiful and good, so that we may become like God who made all these things. FOOTNOTE: [23] _Pilgrim's Progress._ * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Page xiii, "Another" changed to "another" (How another Queen) Page 41, word "on" added to text (mother had gone on) Page 59, "Thoughful" changed to "Thoughtful" ("A lovely idea," said "Thoughtful") Page 107, "out" changed to "own" (own accord) 
38730	----	International Education Series EDITED BY WILLIAM T. HARRIS, A.M., LL.D. _Volume XXI._ THE INTERNATIONAL EDUCATION SERIES. 12mo, cloth, uniform binding. THE INTERNATIONAL EDUCATION SERIES was projected for the purpose of bringing together in orderly arrangement the best writings, new and old, upon educational subjects, and presenting a complete course of reading and training for teachers generally. It is edited by W. T. HARRIS, LL.D., now United States Commissioner of Education, who has contributed for the different volumes in the way of introductions, analysis, and commentary. The volumes are tastefully and substantially bound in uniform style. _VOLUMES NOW READY_: Vol I.--THE PHILOSOPHY OF EDUCATION. By JOHANN KARL FRIEDRICH ROSENKRANZ, Doctor of Theology and Professor of Philosophy at the University of Kônigsberg. Translated from the German by ANNA C. BRACKETT. Second edition, revised, and accompanied with Commentary and complete Analysis. Price, $1.50. 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Price, $1.50. _Circular, describing the volumes more in detail, mailed to any address on request._ New York: D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street. INTERNATIONAL EDUCATION SERIES THE MORAL INSTRUCTION OF CHILDREN BY FELIX ADLER NEW YORK D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 1892 COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED AT THE APPLETON PRESS, U.S.A. EDITOR'S PREFACE. Moral education is everywhere acknowledged to be the most important part of all education; but there has not been the same agreement in regard to the best means of securing it in the school. This has been due in part to a want of insight into the twofold nature of this sort of education; for instruction in morals includes two things: the formation of right ideas and the formation of right habits. Right ideas are necessary to guide the will, but right habits are the product of the will itself. It is possible to have right ideas to some extent without the corresponding moral habits. On this account the formation of correct habits has been esteemed by some to be the chief thing. But unconscious habits--mere use and wont--do not seem to deserve the title of moral in its highest sense. The moral act should be a considerate one, and rest on the adoption of principles to guide one's actions. To those who lay stress on the practical side and demand the formation of correct habits, the school as it is seems to be a great ethical instrumentality. To those who see in theoretical instruction the only true basis of moral character, the existing school methods seem sadly deficient. The school as it is looks first after its discipline, and next after its instruction. Discipline concerns the behavior, and instruction concerns the intellectual progress of the pupil. That part of moral education which relates to habits of good behavior is much better provided for in the school than any part of intellectual education. There is, however, a conflict here between old and new ideals. The old-fashioned school regarded obedience to authority the one essential; the new ideal regards insight into the reasonableness of moral commands the chief end. It is said, with truth, that a habit of unreasoning obedience does not fit one for the exigencies of modern life, with its partisan appeals to the individual and its perpetual display of grounds and reasons, specious and otherwise, in the newspapers. The unreasoning obedience to a moral guide in school may become in after life unreasoning obedience to a demagogue or to a leader in crime. It is not obedience to external authority that we need so much as enlightened moral sense, and yet there remains and will remain much good in the old-fashioned habit of implicit obedience. The new education aims at building up self-control and individual insight. It substitutes the internal authority of conscience for the external authority of the master. It claims by this to educate the citizen fitted for the exercise of suffrage in a free government. He will weigh political and social questions in his mind, and decide for himself. He will be apt to reject the scheme of the demagogue. While the old-fashioned school-master relied on the rod to sustain his external authority, he produced, it is said, a reaction against all authority in the minds of strong-willed pupils. The new education saves the strong-willed pupil from this tension against constituted authority, and makes him law-abiding from the beginning. It will be admitted that the school under both its forms--old as well as new--secures in the main the formation of the cardinal moral habits. It is obliged to insist on regularity, punctuality, silence, and industry as indispensable for the performance of its school tasks. A private tutor may permit his charge to neglect all these things, and yet secure some progress in studies carried on by fits and starts, with noise and zeal to-day, followed by indolence to-morrow. But a school, on account of its numbers, must insist on the semi-mechanical virtues of regularity, punctuality, silence, and industry. Although these are semi-mechanical in their nature, for with much practice they become unconscious habits, yet they furnish the very ground-work of all combinations of man with his fellow-men. They are fundamental conditions of social life. The increase of city population, consequent on the growth of productive industry and the substitution of machines for hand labor, renders necessary the universal prevalence of these cardinal virtues of the school. Even the management of machines requires that sort of alertness which comes from regularity and punctuality. The travel on the railroad, the management of steam-engines, the necessities of concerted action, require punctuality and rhythmic action. The school habit of silence means considerate regard for the rights of fellow-workmen. They must not be interfered with; their attention must not be distracted from their several tasks. A rational self-restraint grows out of this school habit--rational, because it rests on considerateness for the work of others. This is a great lesson in co-operation. Morals in their essence deal with the relation of man to his fellow-men, and rest on a considerateness for the rights of others. "Do unto others," etc., sums up the moral code. Industry, likewise, takes a high rank as a citizen's virtue. By it man learns to re-enforce the moments by the hours, and the days by the years. He learns how the puny individual can conquer great obstacles. The school demands of the youth a difficult kind of industry. He must think and remember, giving close and unremitting attention to subjects strange and far off from his daily life. He must do this in order to discover eventually that these strange and far-off matters are connected in a close manner to his own history and destiny. There is another phase of the pupil's industry that has an important bearing on morals. All his intellectual work in the class has to do with critical accuracy, and respect for the truth. Loose statements and careless logical inference meet with severe reproof. Finally, there is an enforced politeness and courtesy toward teachers and fellow-pupils--at least to the extent of preventing quarrels. This is directly tributary to the highest of virtues, namely, kindness and generosity. All these moral phases mentioned have to do with the side of school discipline rather than instruction, and they do not necessarily have any bearing on the theory of morals or on ethical philosophy, except in the fact that they make a very strong impression on the mind of the youth, and cause him to feel that he is a member of a moral order. He learns that moral demands are far more stern than the demands of the body for food or drink or repose. The school thus does much to change the pupil from a natural being to a spiritual being. Physical nature becomes subordinated to the interests of human nature. Notwithstanding the fact that the school is so efficient as a means of training in moral habits, it is as yet only a small influence in the realm of moral theory. Even our colleges and universities, it must be confessed, do little in this respect, although there has been of late an effort to increase in the programmes the amount of time devoted to ethical study. The cause of this is the divorce of moral theory from theology. All was easy so long as ethics was directly associated with the prevailing religious confession. The separation of Church and State, slowly progressing everywhere since the middle ages, has at length touched the question of education. The attempt to find an independent basis for ethics in the science of sociology has developed conflicting systems. The college student is rarely strengthened in his faith in moral theories by his theoretic study. Too often his faith is sapped. Those who master a spiritual philosophy are strengthened; the many who drift toward a so-called "scientific" basis are led to weaken their moral convictions to the standpoint of fashion, or custom, or utility. Meanwhile the demand of the age to separate Church from State becomes more and more exacting. Religious instruction has almost entirely ceased in the public schools, and it is rapidly disappearing from the programmes of colleges and preparatory schools, and few academies are now scenes of religious revival, as once was common. The publishers of this series are glad, therefore, to offer a book so timely and full of helpful suggestions as this of Mr. Adler. It is hoped that it may open for many teachers a new road to theoretic instruction in morality, and at the same time re-enforce the study of literature in our schools. W. T. HARRIS. WASHINGTON, D.C., _July, 1892_. PREFATORY NOTE. The following lectures were delivered in the School of Applied Ethics during its first session in 1891, at Plymouth, Mass. A few of the lectures have been condensed, in order to bring more clearly into view the logical scheme which underlies the plan of instruction here outlined. The others are published substantially as delivered. I am deeply conscious of the difficulties of the problem which I have ventured to approach, and realize that any contribution toward its solution, at the present time, must be most imperfect. I should, for my part, have preferred to wait longer before submitting my thought to teachers and parents. But I have been persuaded that even in its present shape it may be of some use. I earnestly hope that, at all events, it may serve to help on the rising tide of interest in moral education, and may stimulate to further inquiry. FELIX ADLER. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTORY LECTURES. PAGE I. The Problem of Unsectarian Moral Instruction 3 II. The Efficient Motives of Good Conduct 17 III. Opportunities for Moral Training in the Daily School 27 IV. The Classification of Duties 37 V. The Moral Outfit of Children on entering School 47 PRIMARY COURSE. VI. The Use of Fairy Tales 64 VII. The Use of Fables 80 VIII. Supplementary Remarks on Fables 96 IX. Selected Stories from the Bible 106 X. The Odyssey and the Iliad 146 GRAMMAR COURSE. LESSONS ON DUTY. XI. The Duty of acquiring Knowledge 169 XII. Duties which relate to the Physical Life and the Feelings 185 XIII. Duties which relate to Others (Filial and Fraternal Duties) 202 XIV. Duties toward all Men (Justice and Charity) 218 XV. The Elements of Civic Duty 236 XVI. The Use of Proverbs and Speeches 245 XVII. Individualization of Moral Teaching 249 APPENDIX. The Influence of Manual Training on Character 257 INTRODUCTORY LECTURES. I. THE PROBLEM OF UNSECTARIAN MORAL INSTRUCTION. It will be the aim of the present course of lectures to give in outline the subject-matter of moral instruction for children from six to fourteen or fifteen years of age, and to discuss the methods according to which this kind of instruction should be imparted. At the outset, however, we are confronted by what certainly is a grave difficulty, and to many may appear an insuperable one. The opinion is widely held that morality depends on religious sanctions, and that right conduct can not be taught--especially not to children--except it be under the authority of some sort of religious belief. To those who think in this way the very phrase, unsectarian moral teaching, is suspicious, as savoring of infidelity. And the attempt to mark off a neutral moral zone, outside the domains of the churches, is apt to be regarded as masking a covert design on religion itself. The principle of unsectarian moral instruction, however, is neither irreligious nor anti-religious. In fact--as will appear later on--it rests on purely educational grounds, with which the religious bias of the educator has nothing whatever to do. But there are also grounds of expediency which, at least in the United States, compel us, whether we care to do so or not, to face this problem of unsectarian moral education, and to these let us first give our attention. Even if we were to admit, for argument's sake, the correctness of the proposition that moral truths can only be taught as corollaries of some form of religious belief, the question would at once present itself to the educator, To which form of religious belief shall he give the preference? I am speaking now of the public schools of the United States. These schools are supported out of the general fund of taxation to which all citizens are compelled to contribute. Clearly it would be an act of gross injustice to force a citizen belonging to one denomination to pay for instilling the doctrines of some other into the minds of the young--in other words, to compel him to support and assist in spreading religious ideas in which he does not believe. This would be an outrage on the freedom of conscience. But the act of injustice would become simply monstrous if parents were to be compelled to help indoctrinate their own children with such religious opinions as are repugnant to them. There is no state religion in the United States. In the eyes of the state all shades of belief and disbelief are on a par. There are in this country Catholics, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, Jews, etc. They are alike citizens. They contribute alike toward the maintenance of the public schools. With what show of fairness, then, could the belief of any one of these sects be adopted by the state as a basis for the inculcation of moral truths? The case seems, on the face of it, a hopeless one. But the following devices have been suggested to remove, or rather to circumvent, the difficulty. _First Device._--Let representatives of the various theistic churches, including Catholics, Protestants, and Jews, meet in council. Let them eliminate all those points in respect to which they differ, and formulate a common creed containing only those articles on which they can agree. Such a creed would include, for instance, the belief in the existence of Deity, in the immortality of the soul, and in future reward and punishment. Upon this as a foundation let the edifice of moral instruction be erected. There are, however, two obvious objections to this plan. In the first place, this "Dreibund" of Catholicism, Protestantism, and Judaism would leave out of account the party of the agnostics, whose views may indeed be erroneous, or even detestable, but whose rights as citizens ought not the less on that account to be respected. "_Neminem læde_," hurt no one, is a cardinal rule of justice, and should be observed by the friends of religion in their dealings with their opponents as well as with one another. The agnostic party has grown to quite considerable dimensions in the United States. But, if it had not, if there were only a single person who held such opinions, and he a citizen, any attempt on the part of the majority to trample upon the rights of this one person would still be inexcusable. In the sphere of political action the majority rules, and must rule; in matters that touch the conscience the smallest minority possesses rights on which even an overwhelming majority arrayed on the opposite side can not afford to trespass. It is one of the most notable achievements of the American commonwealths that they have so distinctly separated between the domain of religion and of politics, adopting in the one case the maxim of coercion by majority rule, in the other allowing the full measure of individual liberty. From this standpoint there should be no departure. But the second objection is even more cogent. It is proposed to eliminate the differences which separate the various sects, and to formulate their points of agreement into a common creed. But does it not occur to those who propose this plan that the very life of a religion is to be found precisely in those points in which it differs from its neighbors, and that an abstract scheme of belief, such as has been sketched, would, in truth, satisfy no one? Thus, out of respect for the sentiments of the Jews, it is proposed to omit the doctrines of the divinity of Christ and of the atonement. But would any earnest Christian give his assent, even provisionally, to a creed from which those quintessential doctrines of Christianity have been left out? When the Christian maintains that morality must be based on religion, does he not mean, above all, on the belief in Christ? Is it not indispensable, from his point of view, that the figure of the Saviour shall stand in the foreground of moral inculcation and exhortation? Again, when the Catholic affirms that the moral teaching of the young must be based on religion, is it to be supposed for an instant that he would accept as satisfying his conception of religion a skeleton creed like that above mentioned, denuded of all those peculiar dogmas which make religion in his eyes beautiful and dear? This first device, therefore, is to be rejected. It is unjust to the agnostics, and it will never content the really religious persons of any denomination. It could prove acceptable only to theists pure and simple, whose creed is practically limited to the three articles mentioned; namely, the belief in Deity, immortality, and future punishment and reward. But this class constitutes a small fraction of the community; and it would be absurd, under the specious plea of reconciling the various creeds, in effect to impose the rationalistic opinions of a few on the whole community. The _second device_ seems to promise better results. It provides that religious and moral instruction combined shall be given in the public schools under the auspices of the several denominations. According to this plan, the pupils are to be divided, for purposes of moral instruction, into separate classes, according to their sectarian affiliations, and are to be taught separately by their own clergymen or by teachers acting under instructions from the latter. The high authority of Germany is invoked in support of this plan. If I am correctly informed, the president of one of our leading universities has recently spoken in favor of it, and it is likely that an attempt will be made to introduce it in the United States. Already in some of our reformatory schools and other public institutions separate religious services are held by the ministers of the various sects, and we may expect that an analogous arrangement will be proposed with respect to moral teaching in the common schools. It is necessary, therefore, to pay some attention to the German system, and to explain the reasons which have induced or compelled the Germans to adopt the compromise just described. The chief points to be noted are these: In Germany, church and state are united. The King of Prussia, for instance, is the head of the Evangelical Church. This constitutes a vital difference between America and Germany. Secondly, in Germany the schools existed before the state took charge of them. The school system was founded by the Church, and the problem which confronted the Government was how to convert church schools into state schools. An attempt was made to do this by limiting the influence of the clergy, which formerly had been all-powerful and all-pervasive, to certain branches and certain hours of instruction, thereby securing the supremacy of the state in respect to all other branches and at all other hours. In America, on the other hand, the state founded the schools _ab initio_. In Germany the state has actually encroached upon the Church, has entered church schools and reconstructed them in its own interest. To adopt the German system in America would be to permit the Church to encroach upon the state, to enter state schools and subordinate them to sectarian purposes. The example of Germany can not, therefore, be quoted as a precedent in point. The system of compromise in Germany marks an advance in the direction of increasing state influence. Its adoption in this country would mark a retrograde movement in the direction of increasing church influence. Nor can the system, when considered on its own merits, be called a happy one. Prof. Gneist, in his valuable treatise, Die Konfessionelle Schule (which may be read by those who desire to inform themselves on the historical evolution of the Prussian system), maintains that scientific instruction must be unsectarian, while religious instruction must be sectarian. I agree to both his propositions. But to my mind it follows that, if religious instruction must be sectarian, it ought not to have a place in state schools, at least not in a country in which the separation of church and state is complete. Moreover, the limitation of religious teaching to a few hours a week can never satisfy the earnest sectarian. If he wants religion in the schools at all, then he will also want that specific kind of religious influence which he favors to permeate the whole school. He will insist that history shall be taught from his point of view, that the readers shall breathe the spirit of his faith, that the science teaching shall be made to harmonize with its doctrines, etc. What a paltry concession, indeed, to open the door to the clergyman twice or three times a week, and to permit him to teach the catechism to the pupils, while the rest of the teaching is withdrawn from his control, and is perhaps informed by a spirit alien to his! This kind of compromise can never heartily be indorsed; it may be accepted under pressure, but submission to it will always be under protest.[1] The third arrangement that has been suggested is that each sect shall build its own schools, and draw upon the fund supplied by taxation proportionately to the number of children educated. But to this there are again two great objections: First, it is the duty of the state to see to it that a high educational standard shall be maintained in the schools, and that the money spent on them shall bear fruit in raising the general intelligence of the community. But the experience of the past proves conclusively that in sectarian schools, especially where there are no rival unsectarian institutions to force them into competition, the preponderance of zeal and interest is so markedly on the side of religious teaching that the secular branches unavoidably suffer.[2] If it is said that the state may prescribe rules and set up standards of its own, to which the sectarian schools shall be held to conform, we ask, Who is to secure such conformance? The various sects, once having gained possession of the public funds, would resent the interference of the State. The Inspectors who might be appointed would never be allowed to exercise any real control, and the rules which the State might prescribe would remain dead letter. In the second place, under such an arrangement, the highest purpose for which the public schools exist would be defeated. Sectarian schools tend to separate the members of the various denominations from one another, and to hinder the growth of that spirit of national unity which it is, on the other hand, the prime duty of the public school to create and foster. The support of a system of public education out of the proceeds of taxation is justifiable in the last analysis as a measure dictated to the State by the law of self-preservation. The State maintains public schools in order to preserve itself--i. e., its unity. And this is especially true in a republic. In a monarchy the strong arm of the reigning dynasty, supported by a ruling class, may perhaps suppress discord, and hold the antagonistic elements among the people in subjection by sheer force. In a republic only the spirit of unity among the people themselves can keep them a people. And this spirit is fostered in public schools, where children of all classes and sects are brought into daily, friendly contact, and where together they are indoctrinated into the history, tradition, and aspirations of the nation to which they belong. What then? We have seen that we can not encourage, that we can not permit, the establishment of sectarian schools at the public expense. We have also seen that we can not teach religion in the public schools. Must we, therefore, abandon altogether the hope of teaching the elements of morals? Is not moral education conceded to be one of the most important, if not the most important, of all branches of education? Must we forego the splendid opportunities afforded by the daily schools for this purpose? Is there not a way of imparting moral instruction without giving just offense to any religious belief or any religious believer, or doing violence to the rights of any sect or of any party whatsoever? The correct answer to this question would be the solution of the problem of unsectarian moral education. I can merely state my answer to-day, in the hope that the entire course before us may substantiate it. The answer, as I conceive it, is this: It is the business of the moral instructor in the school to deliver to his pupils the subject-matter of morality, but not to deal with the sanctions of it; to give his pupils a clearer understanding of what _is_ right and what _is_ wrong, but not to enter into the question why the right should be done and the wrong avoided. For example, let us suppose that the teacher is treating of veracity. He says to the pupil, Thou shalt not lie. He takes it for granted that the pupil feels the force of this commandment, and acknowledges that he ought to yield obedience to it. For my part, I should suspect of quibbling and dishonest intention any boy or girl who would ask me, Why ought I not to lie? I should hold up before such a child the Ought in all its awful majesty. The right to reason about these matters can not be conceded until after the mind has attained a certain maturity. And as a matter of fact every good child agrees with the teacher unhesitatingly when he says, It is wrong to lie. There is an answering echo in its heart which confirms the teacher's words. But what, then, is it my business as a moral teacher to do? In the first place, to deepen the impression of the wrongfulness of lying, and the sacredness of truth, by the spirit in which I approach the subject. My first business is to convey the spirit of moral reverence to my pupils. In the next place, I ought to quicken the pupil's perceptions of what is right and wrong, in the case supposed, of what is truth and what is falsehood. Accordingly, I should analyze the different species of lies, with a view of putting the pupils on their guard against the spirit of falsehood, however it may disguise itself. I should try to make my pupils see that, whenever they intentionally convey a false impression, they are guilty of falsehood. I should try to make their minds intelligent and their consciences sensitive in the matter of truth-telling, so that they may avoid those numerous ambiguities of which children are so fond, and which are practiced even by adults. I should endeavor to tonic their moral nature with respect to truthfulness. In the next place, I should point out to them the most frequent motives which lead to lying, so that, by being warned against the causes, they may the more readily escape the evil consequences. For example, cowardice is one cause of lying. By making the pupil ashamed of cowardice, we can often cure him of the tendency to falsehood. A redundant imagination is another cause of lying, envy is another cause, selfishness in all its forms is a principal cause, etc. I should say to the moral teacher: Direct the pupil's attention to the various dangerous tendencies in his nature, which tempt him into the ways of falsehood. Furthermore, explain to your pupils the consequences of falsehood: the loss of the confidence of our fellow-men, which is the immediate and palpable result of being detected in a lie; the injuries inflicted on others; the loosening of the bonds of mutual trust in society at large; the loss of self-respect on the part of the liar; the fatal necessity of multiplying lies, of inventing new falsehoods to make good the first, etc. A vast amount of good, I am persuaded, can be done in this way by stimulating the moral nature, by enabling the scholar to detect the finer shades of right and wrong, helping him to trace temptation to its source, and erecting in his mind barriers against evil-doing, founded on a realizing sense of its consequences. In a similar if not exactly the same way, all the other principal topics of practical morality can be handled. The conscience can be enlightened, strengthened, guided, and all this can be done without once raising the question why it is wrong to do what is forbidden. That it is wrong should rather, as I have said, be assumed. The ultimate grounds of moral obligation need never be discussed in school. It is the business of religion and philosophy to propose theories, or to formulate articles of belief with respect to the ultimate sources and sanctions of duty. Religion says we ought to do right because it is the will of God, or for the love of Christ. Philosophy says we should do right for utilitarian or transcendental reasons, or in obedience to the law of evolution, etc. The moral teacher, fortunately, is not called upon to choose between these various metaphysical and theological asseverations. As an individual he may subscribe to any one of them, but as a teacher he is bound to remain within the safe limits of his own province. He is not to explain why we should do the right, but to make the young people who are intrusted to his charge see more clearly what is right, and to instill into them his own love of and respect for the right. There is a body of moral truth upon which all good men, of whatever sect or opinion, are agreed: _it is the business of the public schools to deliver to their pupils this common fund of moral truth_. But I must hasten to add, to deliver it not in the style of the preacher, but according to the methods of the pedagogue--i. e., in a systematic way, the moral lessons being graded to suit the varying ages and capacities of the pupils, and the illustrative material being sorted and arranged in like manner. Conceive the modern educational methods to have been applied to that stock of moral truths which all good men accept, and you will have the material for the moral lessons which are needed in a public school. FOOTNOTES: [1] Since the above was written, the draft of the _Volksschulgesetz_ submitted to the Prussian Legislature, and the excited debates to which it gave rise, have supplied a striking confirmation of the views expressed in the text. Nothing could be more mistaken than to propose for imitation elsewhere the German "solution" of the problem of moral teaching in schools, especially at a time when the Germans themselves are taking great pains to make it clear that they are as far as possible from having found a solution. [2] During the reactionary period which followed the Revolution of 1848, the school regulations of Kur-Hessen provided that twenty hours a week be devoted in the Volkschulen to religious teaching. II. THE EFFICIENT MOTIVES OF GOOD CONDUCT. There are persons in whom moral principle seems to have completely triumphed; whose conduct, so far as one can judge, is determined solely by moral rules; but whom, nevertheless, we do not wholly admire. We feel instinctively that there is in their virtue a certain flaw--the absence of a saving grace. They are too rigorous, too much the slaves of duty. They lack geniality. Like religion, morality has its fanatics. Thus, there is in the temperance movement a class of fanatics who look at every public question from the point of view of temperance reform, and from that only. There are also woman's-rights fanatics, social purity fanatics, etc. The moral fanatic in every case is a person whose attention is wholly engrossed by some one moral interest, and who sees this out of its relation to other moral interests. The end he has in view may be in itself highly laudable, but the exaggerated emphasis put upon it, the one-sided pursuit of it, is a mischievous error. Observe, further, that there are degrees of moral fanaticism. The fanatic of the first degree, to whom Emerson addresses the words, "What right have you, sir, to your one virtue?" has just been described. He is a person who exalts some one moral rule at the expense of the others. A fanatic of a higher order is he who exalts the whole body of moral rules at the expense of human instincts and desires. He is a person who always acts according to rule; who introduces moral considerations into every detail of life; who rides the moral hobby; in whose eyes the infinite complexity of human affairs has only one aspect, namely, the moral; who is never satisfied unless at every step he feels the strain of the bridle of conscience; who is incapable of spontaneous action and of _naïve_ enjoyment. It is believed that there are not a few persons of this description in the United States, and especially in the New England States--fanatics on the moral side, examples of a one-sided development in the direction of moral formalism. We must be very careful, when insisting on the authority of moral ideas, lest we encourage in the young a tendency of this sort. The hearts of children are very pliable; it is easily possible to produce on them too deep an impression: to give them at the outset a fatal twist, all the more since at a certain age many young people are prone to exaggerated introspection and self-questioning. But it may be asked: Are not moral principles really clothed with supreme authority? Ought we not, indeed, to keep the standard of righteousness constantly before our eyes; in brief, is it possible to be too moral? Evidently we have reached a point where a distinction requires to be drawn. Ethics is a science of relations. The things related are human interests, human ends. The ideal which ethics proposes to itself is the unity of ends, just as the ideal of science is the unity of causes. The ends of the natural man are the subject-matter with which ethics deals. The ends of the natural man are not to be crushed or wiped out, but to be brought into right relations with one another. The ends of the natural man are to be respected from an ethical point of view, so long as they remain within their proper limits. The moral laws are formulas expressing relations of equality or subordination, or superordination. The moral virtue of our acts consists in the respect which we pay to the system of relationships thus prescribed, in the willingness with which we co-ordinate our interests with those of others, or subordinate them to those of others, as the exigencies of the moral situation may require. But the point on which it is now necessary to fix our attention is that when morality has once sanctioned any of the ends of life, the natural man may be left to pursue them without interference on the part of the moralist. When morality has marked out the boundaries within which the given end shall be pursued, its work so far is done; except, indeed, that we are always to keep an eye upon those boundaries, and that the sense of their existence should pervade the whole atmosphere of our lives.[3] A few illustrations will make my meaning clear. There is a moral rule which says that we should eat to live; not, conversely, live to eat. This means that we should regulate our food in such a way that the body may become a fit instrument for the higher purposes of existence, and that the time and attention bestowed upon the matter of eating shall not be so great as to divert us from other and more necessary objects. But, these limits being established, it does not follow that it is wrong or unspiritual to enjoy a meal. The senses, even the lowest of them, are permitted to have free play within the bounds prescribed. Nor, again, should we try rigidly to determine the choice of food according to moral considerations. It would be ridiculous to attempt to do so. The choice of food within a wide range depends entirely on taste, and has nothing to do with moral considerations (whether, for instance, we should have squash or beans for dinner). Those who are deeply impressed with the importance of moral rules are often betrayed into applying them to the veriest minutiæ of conduct. Did they remember that ethics is a science of relations, or, what amounts to the same thing, a science of limits, they would be saved such pedantry. Undoubtedly there are moral _adiaphora_. The fact that such exist has been a stumbling-block in the way of those who believe that morality ought to cover the whole of conduct. The definition of ethics as a science of relations or limits removes this stumbling-block. Ethics stands at the frontier. With what goes on in the interior it does not interfere, except in so far as the limitations it prescribes are an interference. Take another illustration. Ethics condemns vanity and whatever ministers to vanity--as, e. g., undue attention to dress and adornment of the person--on the ground that this implies an immoral subordination of the inner to the outer, of the higher to the lesser ends. But, to lay down a cast-iron rule as to how much one has a right to expend on dress, can not be the office of ethics, on account of the infinite variety of conditions and occupations which subsists among men. And the attempt to prescribe a single fashion of dress, by sumptuary laws or otherwise, would impair that freedom of taste which it is the business of the moralist to respect. Again, every one knows with what bitterness the moral rigorists of all ages have condemned the impulse which attracts the sexes toward one another, and how often they have tried, though vainly, to crush it. But here, again, the true attitude is indicated by the definition of ethics as a science of limits. The moral law prescribes bounds within which this emotional force shall be free to operate, and claims for it the holy name of love, so long as it remains within the bounds prescribed, and, being within, remains conscious of them. That is what is meant when we speak of spiritualizing the feelings. The feelings are spiritualized when they move within certain limits, and when the sense of the existence of these limits penetrates them, and thereby imparts to them a new and nobler quality. And, because such limitation is felt to be satisfying and elevating, the system of correlations which we call ethical, and which, abstractly stated, would fail to interest, does by this means find an entrance into the human heart, and awakens in it the sense of the sublimity and the blessedness of the moral commands. There are two defects of the moral fanatic which can now be signalized: First, he wrongly believes that whatever is not of morality is against it. He therefore is tempted to frown upon the natural pleasures; to banish them if he can, and, if not, to admit them only within the narrowest possible limits as a reluctant concession to the weakness of human nature. In consequence, the moral fanatic commits the enormity of introducing the taint of the sense of sin into the most innocent enjoyments, and thus perverts and distorts the conscience. Secondly, he is always inclined to seek a moral reason for that which has only a natural one; to forget that, like the great conquerors of antiquity, Morality respects the laws of the several realms which it unites into a single empire, and guarantees to each the unimpaired maintenance of its local customs. These remarks are intended to serve as a general caution. I find that young people, when they have become awakened on ethical subjects, often betray a tendency toward moral asceticism. I find that teachers, in the earnest desire to impress the laws of the moral empire, are sometimes betrayed into disregarding the provincial laws of the senses, the intellect, and the feelings; are apt to go too far in applying moral prescriptions to the minutiæ of conduct; are apt to leave the impression that pleasant things, just because they are pleasant, are therefore sinful. But we have now to take a further step, which will bring us close to our special subject for to-day, viz., the efficient motives of good conduct. The non-moral faculties are not only not anti-moral, as has been shown, but, when appealed to in the right way, they lend to Morality a friendly, an almost indispensable support. The æsthetic, the intellectual, and the emotional faculty have not in themselves a moral quality, but when used as auxiliaries they pave the way for moral considerations pure and simple, and have in this sense an immense propædeutic value. Without entering in this place into the philosophy of æsthetics, it is enough to say that the beautiful, like the good, results from and depends on the observance of certain limits and certain relations. And it will not seem far-fetched to suggest that pupils who have been trained to appreciate moderation, restraint and harmony of relations in external objects, will be predisposed to apply analogous measures to matters of conduct, and that a standard of valuation will thus be created in their minds which must prove favorable to right action. Æsthetics may become a pedagogue unto ethics. The same pedagogical function may be claimed for the intellect. The intellect traces the connection between causes and effects. Applied to conduct, it shows the connection between acts and their consequences. It is the faculty which counsels prudence. One does not need to accept the egoistic theory of morals to concede that self-interest is an ally of morality, that Prudence and Virtue travel hand in hand a certain distance on the same road. Not, indeed, until the ideal state shall have been reached will the dictates of the two ever coincide entirely; but to a certain extent the coincidence already exists, and the moral teacher is justified in availing himself of it as far as it goes. To take a very simple case--a child handles a knife which it has been told not to touch, and cuts his fingers. Morally speaking, his fault is disobedience. He would have been equally guilty if he had escaped injury. But he would hardly be so ready to obey another time, if he had been less sharply reminded of the usefulness of obedience. It is wrong to lie--wrong on purely moral grounds, with which self-interest has nothing to do. But for all that we can not dispense with the lesson contained in the well-known fable of the boy who cried, "Wolf!" It is wrong to steal on purely moral grounds. But even a child can be made to understand that the thief, as Emerson puts it, "steals from himself," and that, besides being a rogue, he is deficient in enlightened self-interest. The maxim that honesty is the best policy is true enough so far as the facts are concerned, which come under the observation of children, though one may question whether it be true absolutely. Lastly, when we come to consider the emotional faculty, we find that the intimate connection between it and the moral is so generally conceded as to make it quite superfluous to expatiate on it. On the contrary, it seems necessary to expostulate with those who claim too much credit for the feelings, who ascribe to them a moral value which they by no means possess. Thus, gentleness is not necessarily a virtue; it may be a mere matter of temperament. Sympathetic impulses, _per se_, are not praiseworthy. Sympathy quite as often leads us astray as aright; sympathy, indeed, unless tutored and regulated by moral principles, is a danger against which we ought to be on our guard almost as much as against selfishness. Yet, no one will deny that the feelings, when rightly trained, are of inestimable service as auxiliaries in the task of moral education. To sum up, let me say that the wise teacher will appeal to the taste, the intelligence, and the feelings of his pupils; that he will touch these various springs of conduct all the time, and get from them all the help he can. Thus, when speaking of cleanliness, he will appeal to the æsthetic instinct of the children, awakening in them a feeling of disgust at untidiness. He will appeal to the prudential motive, by showing that want of cleanliness breeds disease. "You do not wish to be sick? You do not wish to suffer? Therefore, it is to your interest to be clean." But, finally, he will touch a higher motive than any of these. "If you are unclean, you cease to respect yourself." And the term self-respect expresses in a condensed form the moral motive proper. It implies the idea of moral personality, which it is not necessary, nor possible, at this stage to analyze, but which the pupil will somehow understand, for his conscience will respond. In many cases the appeal will be made chiefly to the sympathetic feelings; for through these feelings we become aware of the pains and joys of others, and thus of the consequences of the benefits we confer or the evil we inflict. The sympathetic feelings supply the information upon which the will can act. They tell us that others suffer or are glad. And yet the strength to labor persistently for the relief of others' suffering and the enhancement of others' joy--that we can derive from the moral impulse alone. The moral motive is the highest, it is really the only sufficient motive. Pray, understand me well at this point. I should say to the child: It is wrong to lie. That is sufficient. It is wrong, it is forbidden; you must yourself acknowledge the truth of my words, because you despise yourself when you have told a lie. But, in order to strengthen your weak resolution, to confirm you in well-doing, let me show you that it is also contrary to self-interest to lie, and likewise that it is disgusting to be unclean, and that a wrong done to another causes pain. Thus the æsthetic, intellectual, and emotional faculties are called in as witnesses to bear testimony to the moral truths; they are invited to stand up in chorus and say Amen! to the moral commands. FOOTNOTE: [3] It must be remembered also that our knowledge of the right ethical relations is still extremely imperfect, and that the duty of extending the knowledge and promoting the recognition of them is perhaps the highest of all--to which, on occasion, every lesser end must be sacrificed. III. OPPORTUNITIES FOR MORAL TRAINING IN THE DAILY SCHOOL. The school should be to the pupil not an intellectual drill-ground, but a second home; a place dear at the time, and to be gratefully remembered ever after; a place in which his whole nature, and especially what is best in him, may expand and grow. The educational aim should be, not merely to pave the pupil's way to future success, not merely to make of his mind a perfect instrument of thought, a kind of intellectual loom, capable of turning out the most complicated intellectual patterns. The aim should be, above all; to build up manhood, to develop character. There is no school in which moral influence is wanting. The pity is, that in many schools it is incidental, not purposed. And yet there are manifold opportunities in every school for influencing the moral life. Let us consider a few of these. _1._ The teaching of _science_ lends itself to the cultivation of truthfulness. Truthfulness may be defined as the correspondence between thought and word and fact. When the thought in the mind fits the fact, and the word on the tongue fits the thought, then the circuit of truth is complete. Now, with respect to the inculcating of truthfulness, science teaching has this advantage above other branches, that the palpable nature of the facts dealt with makes it possible to note and check the least deviation from the truth. The fact is present, right before the pupil, to rebuke him if he strays from it in thought or speech. And this circumstance may be utilized even in the humble beginnings of science teaching, in the so-called object-lessons. For instance, a bird, or the picture of one, is placed before the child. The teacher says, "Observe closely and tell me exactly what you see--the length of the neck, the curve of the beak, the colors of the plumage," etc. The pupil replies. The teacher objects: "You have not observed accurately. The color is not what you describe it to be. Look again. The curve of the beak does not resemble what you have just drawn on the blackboard. You must tell me exactly what you see. Your words must tally with the facts." And the same sort of practice may be continued in the science-lessons of the upper classes. Scientists are distinguished from other observers by their greater accuracy. Intellectual honesty is that moral quality which science is best calculated to foster. All the great scientists have been haunted by a high ideal of truth, and a gleam of that ideal, however faint, may be made to shed its light even into the school-room. It is obvious that this realistic tutoring into veracity will be of special use to children who are led into lying by a too vivid imagination. Let me add the following remarks in regard to indirect means of promoting truthfulness: The teacher can do a great deal to cultivate respect for the truth among his pupils by frankly admitting an error whenever he has fallen into one. Some teachers try to save their dignity by glossing over their mistakes. But even young children are shrewd enough to estimate such trickery at its worth; while he who manfully confesses that he has been in the wrong, earns the respect of his class, and sets them an invaluable example. It is well also to observe strict accuracy even in matters which of themselves are of no moment. For instance, in giving an account of a botanizing expedition, you begin, perhaps, by saying, "It was half-past ten when we arrived at our destination." Suddenly you stop and correct yourself. "No, I was mistaken; it could not have been later than ten o'clock." Does this strike you as pedantic? But if you fix the time at all, is it not worth while to fix it with approximate exactness? True, it makes no difference in regard to what you are about to relate, whether you arrived at half-past ten or at ten. But, precisely because it makes no difference, it shows the value which you set on accuracy even in trifles. And by such little turns of phrase, by such insubstantial influences, coming from the teacher, the pupil's character is molded. _2._ _The study of history_, when properly conducted is of high moral value. History sets before the mind examples of heroism, of self-sacrifice, of love of country, of devotion to principles at the greatest cost. How can such examples fail to inspire, to ennoble, to awaken emulation? The great and good men of the past, the virtuous and the wise, serve as models to the young, and often arouse in them an enthusiastic admiration, a passionate discipleship. In the next place, the study of history may be used to exercise the moral judgment. The characters which history presents are not all good; the characters even of the good are by no means faultless. It is in the power of the teacher to train the moral judgment and to increase the moral insight of his pupils by leading them to enter into the motives, and to weigh the right and wrong of the actions which history reports. He will also find many an occasion to warn against being dazzled by brilliant success to such a degree as to condone the moral turpitude by which it is often bought. The study of history can thus be made the means of enlightening the conscience as well as of awakening generous aspirations--but, let me hasten to add, only in the hands of a teacher who is himself morally mature, and fully imbued with the responsibilities of his task. Lastly, the study of history among advanced pupils may be used to confirm the moral idea of the mission of mankind, and to set it in its true light. The human race, as, from the moral point of view, we are bound to assume, exists on earth in order to attempt the solution of a sublime problem--the problem of the perfect civilization, the just society, the "kingdom of God." But on every page of history there are facts that warn us that progress toward this high ideal is of necessity slow. Whether we review the evolution of religion, or of political institutions, or of industrial society, we are still forced to the same solemn conclusion, that in view of the ultimate goal, "a thousand years are as a day," and that while we may not relax our efforts to attain the ideal, we must be well content in case we are permitted to advance the mighty work even a little. This conviction is calculated to engender in us a new spirit of piety and self-abnegation, which yet is consistent with perfect alacrity in discharging the duty of the hour. There could be no better result from the study of history among young men and young women than if it should have the effect of impressing on them this new piety, this genuine historic sense, in which the average citizen, especially of democratic communities, is so conspicuously deficient. But this is a digression which I must ask you to pardon. _3._ The moral value of the _study of literature_ is as great as it is obvious. Literature is the medium through which all that part of our inner life finds expression which defies scientific formulation. In the text-books of science we possess the net result of the purely intellectual labors of the past; in universal literature we have composite photographs, as it were, of the typical hopes, sentiments, and aspirations of the race. Literature gives a voice to that within us which would otherwise remain dumb, and fixity to that which would otherwise be evanescent. The best literature, and especially the best poetry, is a glass in which we see our best selves reflected. There is a legend which tells of two spirits, the one an angel, the other a demon, that accompany every human being through life, and walk invisibly at his side. The one represents our bad self, the other our better self. The moral service which the best literature renders us is to make the invisible angel visible. _4._ I can but cast a cursory glance at some of the remaining branches of instruction. _Manual training_ has a moral effect upon the pupil, of which I have spoken at some length on another occasion.[4] _Music_, apart from its subtler influences, which can not be considered here, has the special function of producing in the pupil a feeling of oneness with others, or of social unity. This is best accomplished through the instrumentality of chorus singing, while particular moral sentiments, like charity, love of home, etc., can be inculcated by means of the texts. _Gymnastic_ exercises likewise have a moral effect in promoting habits of self-control, prompt obedience at the word of command, etc. Indeed, it is not difficult to show the moral bearings of the ordinary branches of instruction. It would, on the contrary, be difficult to find a single one, which, when rightly viewed, is not surrounded by a moral photosphere. Science, history, literature, and the other branches lend themselves in various ways to the development of character. But there are certain other opportunities which every school offers, apart from the teaching, and these may be utilized to the same end. The discipline of the school, above all, has an immense effect on the character. If it is of the right kind, a beneficial effect; if not, a most pernicious one. The mere working of what may be called the school machinery tends to inculcate habits of order, punctuality, and the like. The aggregation of a large number of scholars in the same building and their intercourse with one another under the eye of the teachers, afford frequent opportunities for impressing lessons of kindness, politeness, mutual helpfulness, etc. The recitations of lessons give occasion not only to suppress prompting, but to eradicate the motives which lead to it, and to impress deeply the duty of honesty. The very atmosphere of the class-room should be such as to encourage moral refinement; it should possess a sunny climate, so to speak, in which meanness and vulgarity can not live. But there is especially one avenue of influence, which I have much at heart to recommend. The teacher should join in the _games_ of his pupils. He will thus at once come to stand on a friendly footing with them, and win their confidence, without in the least derogating from his proper dignity. And thus will be removed that barrier which in many schools separates pupils and teachers to such a degree that there actually seem to exist side by side two worlds--the world to which the teacher has access, and the world from which he is shut out. Moreover, while they are at play, the true character of the pupils reveals itself. At such times the sneak, the cheat, the bully, the liar, shows his true colors, and the teacher has the best opportunity of studying these pathological subjects and of curing their moral defects. For, while playing with them, as one concerned in the game, he has the right to insist on fair dealing, to express his disgust at cowardice, to take the part of the weak against the strong, and his words spoken on the playground will have tenfold the effect of any hortatory address which he might deliver from the platform. The greatest and most successful of teachers have not disdained to use this device. Finally, let me say that the personality of the master or principal of the school is the chief factor of moral influence in it. Put a great, sound, whole-souled nature at the head of a school, and everything else may almost be taken for granted. In every school there exists a public opinion among the scholars, by which they are affected to a far greater degree than by the words of their superiors. The tactful master will direct his chief attention to shaping and improving this public opinion, while at the same time interfering as little as possible with the freedom of his pupils. He can accomplish his purpose by drawing close to himself those scholars who make the public opinion of the school, and these in turn he can win to fine and manly views only by the effect of his personality. The personality of the head-master is everything. It is the ultimate source of power in the school, the central organ which sends out its life-giving currents through the whole organism. And let me here add that, if I am in favor of excluding direct religious teaching from our schools, I am not in favor of excluding religious influence. That, too, flows from the personality of the true master. For if he be reverent, a truly pious soul, humble in his estimate of self, not valuing his petty schoolmaster's authority on its own account, but using it lovingly as an instrument for higher ends, he will be sure to communicate of his spirit to his pupils, and by that spirit will open their hearts, better than by any doctrinal teaching he could give, to the reception of the highest spiritual truths. By all these means--by the culture of the intellect, the taste, and the feelings, by his daily dealings with the young, in work and play--the teacher helps to create in them certain moral habits. Why, then, should not these habits suffice? What need is there of specific moral instruction? And what is the relation of moral instruction to the habits thus engendered? The function of moral instruction is to clinch the habits. The function of moral instruction is to explicate in clear statements, fit to be grasped by the intellect, the laws of duty which underlie the habits. The value of such intellectual statements is that they give a rational underpinning to moral practice, and, furthermore, that they permit the moral rules to be applied to new cases not heretofore brought within the scope of habit. This thought will be more fully developed and explained as we proceed. FOOTNOTE: [4] In the address on the subject, reprinted in the Appendix. IV. CLASSIFICATION OF DUTIES. The topics of which moral instruction treats are the duties of life. To teach the duties, however, we must adopt some system of classification. To which system shall we give the preference? The difficulty which we encountered at the outset seems to meet us here in a new guise. For most if not all of the systems of classification commonly proposed are based upon some metaphysical theory or some theological doctrine. To adopt any one of these would be tantamount to adopting the theory or theology on which it is founded; would be equivalent to introducing surreptitiously a particular philosophy or creed into the minds of the pupils; and this would be a plain departure from the unsectarian principle to which we are pledged. Thus, Plato's fourfold division of the virtues into the so-called cardinal virtues of temperance, courage, justice, wisdom, is based on his psychology. Aristotle's division of the virtues into dianoetic and what he calls ethical virtues is clearly dependent on what may be termed Aristotle's intellectualism--i. e., the supreme importance which he assigns to the functions of the intellect, or [Greek: nous], in the attainment of the perfect life. Kant's division of duties into complete and incomplete is an outgrowth of the ideas developed in his Critique of Pure Reason; the philosopher Herbart's fivefold classification reflects his metaphysical theory of reality; while the systems of ethical classification which are to be found in theological handbooks betray still more clearly the bias of their authors. We can, I think, find a simple way out of this difficulty by proceeding in the following manner: Let us take for our guidance the objects to which duty relates, and disregard the sources from which it flows. It is conceded on all hands that every one is to himself an object of duty, that he has certain duties to perform with respect to himself, as, for instance, the duty of intellectual development; furthermore, that every person owes certain duties to his fellow-men generally, in virtue of the fact that they are human beings; again, that there are special duties which we owe to particular persons, such as parents, brothers, and sisters; finally, that there are certain duties, into which, so to speak, we are born, like the ones last mentioned, and others which we can freely assume or not, like the conjugal duties, but which, once assumed, become as binding as the former. Thus the very structure of human society suggests a scheme of classification. And this scheme has the advantage of being a purely objective one. It keeps close to the facts, it is in harmony with the unsectarian principle, and it is perfectly fair. It leaves the problem of first principles entirely untouched. That we have such duties to perform with respect to self and others, no one questions. Let philosophers differ as to the ultimate motives of duty. Let them reduce the facts of conscience to any set of first principles which may suit them. It is our part as instructors to interpret the facts of conscience, not to seek for them an ultimate explanation. Let me briefly indicate how the different duties may be made to fall into line according to the plan of classification which has just been suggested. The whole field of duty may be divided into three main provinces:[5] those duties which relate to ourselves, those which we owe to all men, and those which arise in the special relations of the family, the state, etc.: I. The Self-regarding Duties. These may again be subdivided into duties relating to our physical nature, to the intellect, and to the feelings. Under the head of physical duties belong the prohibition of suicide, and the duties of physical culture, temperance, and chastity. Intellectual Duties.--Under this head may be ranged the duty of acquiring knowledge and the subsidiary duties of order, diligence, perseverance in study; while, for those who are beyond the school age, special stress should be laid on the duty of mental genuineness. This may be expressed in the words: To thine own mental self be true. Study thine own mental bent. Try to discover in what direction thy proper talent lies, and make the most of it. Work thine own mine: if it be a gold-mine, bring forth gold; if it be a silver-mine, bring forth silver; if it be an iron-mine, bring forth iron. Endeavor to master some one branch of knowledge thoroughly well. It is for thee the key which opens the gates of all knowledge. The need of general culture is felt by all, but the concentration of intellectual efforts on special studies is not inconsistent with it. On the contrary, special studies alone enable us to gain a foothold in the realm of knowledge. A branch of knowledge which we have mastered, however small, may be compared to a strong fortress in an enemy's country, from which we can sally forth at will to conquer the surrounding territory. Knowledge may also be likened to a sphere. From every point of the circumference we can, by persistent labor, dig down to the center. He who has reached the center commands the sphere. Duties which relate to the Feelings.--The principal duty under this head may be expressed in the twofold command--control and purify thy feelings! The feelings which need to be repressed are anger, fear, self-complacency. Let the teacher, when he reaches this point, dwell upon the causes and the consequences of anger. Let him speak of certain helps which have been found useful for the suppression of angry passion. Let him distinguish anger from moral indignation. In dealing with fear let him pursue the same method. Let him distinguish physical from moral cowardice, brute courage from moral courage, courage from fortitude. In dealing with self-complacency let him discriminate between vanity and pride, between pride and dignity. Let him show that humility and dignity are consistent with one another, yes, that they are complementary aspects of one and the same moral quality. Not the least advantage to be reaped from lessons on duty is the fixing in the pupil's mind of the moral vocabulary. The moral terms as a rule are loosely used, and this can not but lead to confusion in their application. Precise definitions, based on thorough discussion, are an excellent means of moral training.[6] II. The duties which we owe to all men are Justice and Charity: Be just is equivalent to--Do not hinder the development of any of thy fellow-men. Be charitable is equivalent to--Assist the development of thy fellow-men. Under the head of charity the teacher will have occasion to speak not only of almsgiving, the visitation of the sick, and the like, but of the thousand charities of the fireside, of the charity of bright looks, of what may be called intellectual charity, which consists in opening the eyes of the mentally blind, and of the noblest charity of all, which consists in coming to the aid of those who are deep in the slough of moral despond, in raising the sinful and fallen. III. Special social duties: Under this head belong the duties which arise in the family: the conjugal, the parental, the filial, the fraternal duties. Under the head of duties peculiar to the various avocations should be discussed the ethics of the professions, the ethics of the relations between employers and laborers, etc. The consideration of the duties of the citizen opens up the whole territory of political ethics. Lastly, the purely elective relationships of friendship and religious fellowship give rise to certain fine and lofty ethical conceptions, the discussion of which may fitly crown the whole course. I have thus mentioned some of the main topics of practical ethics, from which we are to make our selection for the moral lessons. But a selective principle is needed. The field being spread out before us, the question arises, At what point shall we enter it? What topics shall we single out? It would be manifestly absurd, for instance, to treat of international ethics, or of conjugal ethics, in a course intended for children. But especially the order in which the different topics are to follow each other needs to be determined. The order followed in the above sketch is a purely logical one, and the logical arrangement of a subject, as every educator knows, is not usually the one most suitable for bringing it within reach of the understanding of children. It would not be in the present instance. Clearly a selective principle is wanted. Let me here interrupt myself for a moment to say that the problem which we are attacking, so far from being solved, has heretofore hardly even been stated. And this is due to the fact that moral instruction has been thus far almost entirely in the hands of persons whose chief interest was religious, and who, whatever their good intentions might be, were hardly qualified to look at the subject from the educator's point of view. The work of breaking ground in the matter of moral instruction has still to be done. As to the selective principle which I have in view I feel a certain confidence in its correctness; but I am aware that the applications of it will doubtless require manifold amendment and correction, for which purpose I invoke the experience and honest criticism of my fellow-teachers. This being understood, I venture to ask your attention to the following considerations: The life of every human being naturally divides itself into distinct periods--infancy, childhood, youth, etc. Each period has a set of interests and of corresponding duties peculiar to itself. The moral teaching should be graded according to periods. The teaching appropriate to any period is that which bears upon the special duties of that period. To illustrate, the ethics of childhood may be summarized as follows: The personal duties of a child are chiefly the observance of a few simple rules of health and the curbing of its temper. It owes social duties to parents, brothers and sisters, and kinsfolk, to its playmates, and to servants. The child is not yet a citizen, and the ethics of politics, therefore, lie far beyond its horizon; it does not yet require to be taught professional ethics, and does not need to learn even the elements of intellectual duty, because its energies are still absorbed in physical growth and play. The duties of childhood can be readily stated. The peculiar duties of the subsequent stages of development, for instance, of middle life and old age, are complex, and not so easy to define. But I believe that the attempt to describe them will throw light on many recondite problems in ethics. My first point therefore is, that the moral teaching at a given period should be made to fit the special duties of that period. Secondly--and this touches the core of the matter--in every period of life there is some one predominant duty around which all the others may be grouped, to which as a center they may be referred. Thus, the paramount duty of the young child is to reverence and obey its parents. The relation of dependence in which it stands naturally prescribes this duty, and all its other duties can be deduced from and fortified by this one. The correctness of its personal habits and of its behavior toward others depends primarily on its obedience to the parental commands. The child resists the temptation to do what is wrong, chiefly because it respects the authority and desires to win the approbation of father and mother. Secondary motives are not wanting, but reverence for parents is the principal one. Thirdly, in each new period there emerges a new paramount ethical interest, a new center of duties. But with the new system of duties thus created the previous ethical systems are to be brought into line, into harmonious correlation. And this will be all the more feasible, because the faithful performance of the duties of any one period is the best preparation for the true understanding and fulfillment of those of the next. From these statements the following conclusions may be drawn with respect to the question under discussion--namely, the proper sequence of the topics of duty in a course of moral lessons. The moral lessons being given in school, must cover the duties which are peculiar to the school age. The paramount duty should be placed in the foreground. Now the paramount duty of children between six and fourteen years of age is to acquire knowledge. Hence we begin the lessons with the subject of intellectual duty. In the next place, the duties learned in the previous periods are to be brought into line with the duties of the school age. At each new step on the road of ethical progress the moral ideas already acquired are to be reviewed, confirmed, and to receive a higher interpretation. We have already seen that, before the child enters school, its personal duties are such as relate to the physical life and the feelings, and its chief social duties are the filial and fraternal. Therefore, the order of topics for the lessons thus far stands: The duty of acquiring knowledge; the duties which relate to the physical life; the duties which relate to the feelings; the filial duties; the fraternal duties. Again, a child that has learned to respect the rights of its brothers and sisters, and to be lovingly helpful to them, will in school take the right attitude toward its companions. The fraternal duties are typical of the duties which we owe to all our companions, and, indeed, to all human beings. The next topic of the lessons, therefore, will be the duties which we owe to all human beings. Finally, life in school prepares for life in society and in the state, and so this course of elementary moral lesson will properly close with "The elements of civic duty." FOOTNOTES: [5] It may be urged by some that duties toward God ought to be included in such a scheme of moral lessons as we are proposing. I should say, however, that the discussion of these duties belongs to the Sunday-schools, the existence of which alongside the daily schools is _presupposed throughout the present course of lectures_. [6] The duties which relate to the moral nature, as a whole, such for instance as the duty of self-scrutiny, may be considered either at the end of the chapter on self-regarding duties, or at the close of the whole course. V. THE MORAL OUTFIT OF CHILDREN ON ENTERING SCHOOL. It is difficult to trace the beginnings of the moral life in children. The traveler who attempts to follow some great river to its source generally finds himself confused by the number of ponds and springs which are pointed out to him with the assurance in the case of each that this and no other is the real source. In truth, the river is fed not from one source but from many, and does not attain its unity and individuality until it has flowed for some distance on its way. In like manner, the moral life is fed by many springs, and does not assume its distinctive character until after several years of human existence have elapsed. The study of the development of conscience in early childhood is a study of origins, and these are always obscure. But, besides, the attention hitherto given to this subject has been entirely inadequate, and even the attempts to observe in a systematic way the moral manifestations of childhood have been few. Parents and teachers should endeavor to answer such questions as these: When do the first stirrings of the moral sense appear in the child? How do they manifest themselves? What are the emotional and the intellectual equipments of the child at different periods, and how do these correspond with its moral outfit? At what time does conscience enter on the scene? To what acts or omissions does the child apply the terms right and wrong? If observations of this kind were made with care and duly recorded, the science of education would have at its disposal a considerable quantity of material from which no doubt valuable generalizations might be deduced. Every mother especially should keep a diary in which to note the successive phases of her child's physical, mental, and moral growth; with particular attention to the moral; so that parents may be enabled to make a timely forecast of their childrens' characters, to foster in them every germ of good, and by prompt precautions to suppress, or at least restrain, what is bad. I propose in the present lecture to cast a glance at the moral training which the normal child receives before it enters school, and the moral outfit which it may be expected to bring with it at the time of entering. Fortunately, it is not necessary to go very deeply into the study of development of conscience for this purpose. A few main points will suffice for our guidance. _First Point._--The moral training of a child can be begun in its cradle. Regularity is favorable to morality. Regularity acts as a check on impulse. A child should receive its nourishment at stated intervals; it should become accustomed to sleep at certain hours, etc. If it protests, as it often does vigorously enough, its protests should be disregarded. After a while its cries will cease, it will learn to submit to the rule imposed, and the taking of pleasure in regularity and the sense of discomfort when the usual order is interrupted become thenceforth a part of its mental life. I do not maintain that regularity itself is moral, but that it is favorable to morality because it curbs inclination. I do not say that rules are always good, but that the life of impulse is always bad. Even when we do the good in an impulsive way we are encouraging in ourselves a vicious habit. Good conduct consists in regulating our life according to good principles; and a willingness to abide by rules is the first, the indispensable condition of moral growth. Now, the habit of yielding to rules may be implanted in a child even in the cradle. _Second Point._--A very young child--one not older than a year and a half--can be taught to obey, to yield to the parent's will. A child a year and a half old is capable of adhering to its own will in defiance of the expressed will of father or mother. In this case it should be constrained to yield. We shall never succeed in making of it a moral person if it does not realize betimes that there exists a higher law than the law of its will. And of this higher law, throughout childhood, the parent is, as it were, the embodiment. When I say that obedience can be exacted of a child of such tender age, that a child so young is capable of deliberately opposing the will of the parent, I speak from experience. I know a certain little lady who undertook a struggle with her father precisely in the way described. The struggle lasted fully thirty-five minutes by the clock. But when it was over, the child stretched out her little arms and put up her lips to be kissed, and for days after fairly clung to her father, showing him her attachment in the most demonstrative manner. Nor should this increase of affectionateness excite surprise--it is the proper result of a conflict of this sort between father and child when conducted in the right spirit. The child is happy to be freed from the sway of its wayward caprice, to feel that its feeble will has been taken up into a will larger and stronger than its own. _Third Point._--What is called conscience does not usually begin to show itself until the child is about three years old. At this age the concept self usually emerges, and the child begins to use the personal pronoun I. This is one of these critical turning points in human development, of which there are several. The beginning of adolescence marks another. I am inclined to suspect that there is one at or about thirty-three. There seem to be others later on. At any rate the first turning point--that which occurs at three--is marked unmistakably. At this time, as we have just said, the child begins to be distinctly self-conscious; it says "I," and presently "you," "he," and "they." Now, moral rules formulate the relations which ought to subsist between one's self and others, and to comprehend the rules it is clearly necessary to be able to hold apart in the mind and to contrast with one another the persons related. It is evident, therefore, that the emergence of the concept self must have a decided effect on moral development. I feel tempted to pause here a moment and to say a word in passing about the extreme importance of the constituent elements of the concept self. For it must not be supposed that the pronoun "I" means the same thing on the lips of every person who uses it. "I" is a label denoting a mass of associated ideas, and as these ideas are capable of almost endless variation, so the notion of selfhood is correspondingly diversified in different individuals. In the case of children, perhaps the principal constituents of the concept are supplied by their outward appearance and environment. When a child speaks of itself, it thinks primarily of its body, especially its face, then of the clothes it usually wears, the house it lives in, the streets through which it habitually walks, its parents, brothers, sisters, school-masters, etc.[7] If we analyze the meaning of "I" in the case of two children, the one well-born and well brought up, the other without these advantages, we shall perhaps find such differences as the following: "I" in the one case will mean a being living in a certain decent and comfortable house, always wearing neat clothing, surrounded by parents, brothers, and sisters who speak kindly to one another and have gentle manners, etc. In the other case, the constituents of the concept self may be very different. "I" in the case of the second child may mean a creature that lives in a dark, filthy hovel and walks every day through narrow streets, reeking with garbage. "I" may mean the child of a father who comes home drunk and strikes the mother when the angry fit is upon him. "I" stands for a poor waif that wears torn clothes, and when he sits in school by the side of well-dressed children is looked at askance and put to shame. It is obvious that the elements which go to make up the concept self affect the child's moral nature by lowering or raising its self-esteem. I remember the case of one, who as a boy was the laughing-stock of his class on account of the old-fashioned, ill-fitting clothes which he was compelled to wear, and who has confessed that even late in life he could not entirely overcome the effect of this early humiliation, and that he continued to be painfully aware in himself, in consequence, of a certain lack of ease and self-possession. Hence we should see to it that the constituent elements of the concept self are of the right kind. It is a mistake to suppose that the idea of selfhood stands off independently from the elements of our environment. The latter enter into, and when they are bad eat into, the very kernel of our nature. We have seen that the development of the intellect as it appears in the growing distinctness of self-consciousness exercises an important influence on the development of the moral faculty. But there is still another way in which this influence becomes apparent. The function of conscience further depends on the power of keeping alternative courses of action before the mind. Angels capable only of the good, or fiends actuated exclusively by malice, could not be called moral creatures. A moral act always presupposes a previous choice between two possible lines of action. And until the power of holding the judgment in suspense, of hesitating between alternative lines of conduct, has been acquired, conscience, strictly speaking, does not manifest itself. We may say that the voice of conscience begins to be heard when, the parent being absent, the child hesitates between a forbidden pleasure and obedience to the parental command. Of course, not every choice between alternative courses is a moral act. If any one hesitates whether to remain at home or to go for a walk, whether to take a road to the right or to the left, the decision is morally indifferent. But whenever one of the alternative courses is good and the other bad, conscience does come into play. At this point, however, the question forcibly presents itself, How does it come to pass in the experience of children that they learn to regard certain lines of action as good and others as bad? You will readily answer, The parent characterizes certain acts as good and others as bad, and the child accepts his definition; and this is undoubtedly true. The parent's word is the main prop of the budding conscience. But how comes the parent's word to produce belief? This is indeed the crucial question touching the development of the moral faculty. Mr. Bain says that the child fears the punishment which the parent will inflict in case of disobedience; that the essential form and defining quality of conscience from first to last is of the nature of dread. He seems to classify the child's conscience with the criminal conscience, the rebel conscience which must be energized by the fear of penalties. But this explanation seems very unsatisfactory. Every one, of course, must admit that the confirmations of experience tend greatly to strengthen the parent's authority. The parent says, You must be neat. The child, if it does as it is bidden, finds an æsthetic pleasure in its becoming appearance. The parent says, You must not strike your little brother, but be kind to him; and the child, on restraining its anger, is gratified by the loving words and looks which it receives in return. The parent says, You must not touch the stove, or you will be burned. The disobedient child is effectually warned by the pain it suffers to be more obedient in future. But all such confirmations are mere external aids to parental authority. They do not explain the feeling of reverence with which even a young child, when rightly brought up, is wont to look up to his father's face. To explain this sentiment of reverence, I must ask you to consider the following train of reasoning. It has been remarked already that the parent should be to the child the visible embodiment of a higher law. This higher law shining from the father's countenance, making its sublime presence felt in the mother's eye, wakens an answering vibration in the child's heart. The child feels the higher presence and bows to it, though it could not, if it tried, analyze or explain what it feels. We should never forget that children possess the capacity for moral development from the outset. It is indeed the fashion with some modern writers to speak of the child as if it were at first a mere animal, and as if reflection and morality were mechanically superadded later on. But the whole future man is already hidden, not yet declared, but latent all the same in the child's heart. The germs of humanity in its totality exist in the young being. Else how could it ever unfold into full-grown morality? It will perhaps serve to make my meaning clearer if I call attention to analogous facts relating to the intellectual faculty. The formula of causality is a very abstract one, which only a thoroughly trained mind can grasp. But even very young children are constantly asking questions as to the causes of things. What makes the trees grow? what makes the stars shine?--i. e., what is the cause of the trees growing and the stars shining? The child is constantly pushing, or rather groping, its way back from effects to causes. The child's mind acts under what maybe called the causative instinct long before it can apprehend the law of causation. In the same way young children perfectly follow the process of syllogistic reasoning. If a father says, on leaving the house for a walk: I can take with me only a child that has been good; now, you have not been good to-day; the child without any difficulty draws the conclusion, Therefore I can not go out walking with my father to-day. The logical laws are, as it were, prefigured in the child's mind long before, under the chemical action of experience they come out in the bright colors of consciousness. Or, to use another figure, they exert a pressure on the child of which he himself can give no account. And in like manner the moral law--the law which prescribes certain relations between self and others--is, so to speak, prefigured in the child's mind, and when it is expressed in commands uttered by the parent, the pressure of external authority is confirmed by a pressure coming from within. We can illustrate the same idea from another point of view. Whenever a man of commanding moral genius appears in the world and speaks to the multitude from his height, they are for the moment lifted to his level and feel the afflatus of his spirit. This is so because he expresses potentialities of human nature which also exist in them, only not unfolded to the same degree as in him. It is a matter of common observation that persons who under ordinary circumstances are content to admire what is third rate and fourth rate are yet able to appreciate what is first rate when it is presented to them--at least to the extent of recognizing that it is first rate. And yet their lack of development shows itself in the fact that presently they again lose their hold on the higher standard of excellence, and are thereafter content to put up with what is inferior as if the glimpses of better things had never been opened to them. Is it not because, though capable of rising to the higher level, they are not capable of maintaining themselves on it unassisted. Now, the case of the parent with respect to the child is analogous. He is on a superior moral plane. The child feels that he is, without being able to understand why. It feels the afflatus of the higher spirit dwelling in the parent, and out of this feeling is generated the sentiment of reverence. And there is no greater benefit which father or mother can confer on their offspring than to deepen this sentiment. It is by this means that they can most efficiently promote the development of the child's conscience, for out of this reverence will grow eventually respect for all rightly constituted authority, respect and reverence for law, human and divine. The essential form and defining quality of conscience is not, therefore, as Bain has it--fear of punishment. In my opinion such fear is abject and cowardly. The sentiment engendered by fear is totally different from the one we are contemplating, as the following consideration will serve to show: A child fears its father when he punishes it in anger; and the more violent his passion, the more does the child fear him. But, no matter how stern the penalty may be which he has to inflict, the child reveres its father in proportion as the traces of anger are banished from his mien and bearing, in proportion as the parent shows by his manner that he acts from a sense of duty, that he has his eye fixed on the sacred measures of right and wrong, that he himself stands in awe of the sublime commands of which he is, for the time being, the exponent. To recapitulate briefly the points which we have gone over: regular habits can be inculcated and obedience can be taught even in infancy. By obedience is meant the yielding of a wayward and ignorant will to a firm and enlightened one. The child between three and six years of age learns clearly to distinguish self from others, and to deliberate between alternative courses of action. It is highly important to control the elements which enter into the concept self. The desire to choose the good is promoted chiefly by the sentiment of reverence. We are thus prepared to describe in a general way the moral outfit of the child on entering school. We have, indeed, already described it. The moral acquirements of the child at the age of which we speak express themselves in habits. The normal child, under the influences of parental example and command, has acquired such habits as that of personal cleanliness, of temperance in eating, of respect for the truth. Having learned to use the pronouns I and thou, it also begins to understand the difference between _meum_ and _tuum_. The property sense begins to be developed. It claims its own seat at table, its own toys against the aggression of others. It has gained in an elementary way the notion of rights. This is a stock of acquirements by no means inconsiderable. The next step in the progress of conscience must be taken in the school. Until now the child has been aware of duties relating only or principally to persons whom it loves and who love it. The motive of love is now to become less prominent. A part of that reverence which the child has felt for the parents whom it loves is now to be transferred to the teacher. A part of that respect for the rights of equals which has been impressed upon it in its intercourse with brothers and sisters, to whom it is bound by the ties of blood, is now to be transferred to its school companions, who are at first strangers to it. Thus the conscience of the child will be expanded, thus it will be prepared for intercourse with the world. Thus it will begin to gain that higher understanding of morality, according to which authority is to be obeyed simply because it is rightful, and equals are to be treated as equals, even when they are not and can not be regarded with affection. I have in the above used the word habits advisedly. The morality of the young child assumes the concrete form of habits; abstract principles are still beyond its grasp. Habits are acquired by imitation and repetition. Good examples must be so persistently presented and so often copied that the line of moral conduct may become the line of least resistance. The example of parents and teachers is indeed specially important in this respect. But after all it is not sufficient. For the temptations of adults differ in many ways from those of children, and on the other hand in the lives of older persons occasions are often wanting for illustrating just the peculiar virtues of childhood. On this account it is necessary to set before the child ideal examples of the virtues of children and of the particular temptations, against which they need to be warned. Of such examples we find a large stock ready to hand in the literature of fairy tales, fables, and stories. In our next lecture therefore we shall begin to consider the use of fairy tales, fables, and stories as means of creating in children those habits which are essential to the safe guarding and unfolding of their moral life. FOOTNOTE: [7] So important is environment in supporting self-consciousness, that even adults, when suddenly transported into entirely new surroundings, often experience a momentary doubt as to their identity. PRIMARY COURSE. VI. THE USE OF FAIRY TALES. There has been and still is considerable difference of opinion among educators as to the value of fairy tales. I venture to think that, as in many other cases, the cause of the quarrel is what logicians call an _undistributed middle_--in other words, that the parties to the dispute have each a different kind of fairy tale in mind. This species of literature can be divided broadly into two classes--one consisting of tales which ought to be rejected because they are really harmful, and children ought to be protected from their bad influence, the other of tales which have a most beautiful and elevating effect, and which we can not possibly afford to leave unutilized. The chief pedagogic value they possess is that they exercise and cultivate the imagination. Now, the imagination is a most powerful auxiliary in the development of the mind and will. The familiar anecdote related of Marie Antoinette, who is said to have asked why the people did not eat cake when she was told that they were in want of bread, indicates a deficiency of imagination. Brought up amid the splendor of courts, surrounded by luxury, she could not put herself in the place of those who lack the very necessaries. Much of the selfishness of the world is due not to actual hard-heartedness, but to a similar lack of imaginative power. It is difficult for the happy to realize the needs of the miserable. Did they realize those needs, they would in many cases be melted to pity and roused to help. The faculty of putting one's self in the place of others is therefore of great, though indirect, service to the cause of morality, and this faculty may be cultivated by means of fairy tales. As they follow intently the progress of the story, the young listeners are constantly called upon to place themselves in the situations in which they have never been, to imagine trials, dangers, difficulties, such as they have never experienced, to reproduce in themselves, for instance, such feelings as that of being alone in the wide world, of being separated from father's and mother's love, of being hungry and without bread, exposed to enemies without protection, etc. Thus their sympathy in a variety of forms is aroused. In the next place, fairy tales stimulate the idealizing tendency. What were life worth without ideals! How could hope or even religion germinate in the human heart were we not able to confront the disappointing present with visions which represent the fulfillment of our desires. "Faith," says Paul, "is the confidence of things hoped for, the certainty of things not seen." Thus faith itself can not abide unless supported by a vivid idealism. It is true, the ideals of childhood are childish. In the story called Das Marienkind we hear of the little daughter of a poor wood-cutter who was taken up bodily into heaven. There she ate sweetmeats and drank cream every day and wore dresses made of gold, and the angels played with her. Sweetmeats and cream in plenty and golden dresses and dear little angels to play with may represent the ideals of a young child, and these are materialistic enough. But I hold nevertheless that something--nay, much--has been gained if a child has learned to take the wishes out of its heart, as it were, and to project them on the screen of fancy. As it grows up to manhood, the wishes will become more spiritual, and the ideals, too, will become correspondingly elevated. In speaking of fairy tales I have in mind chiefly the German _Märchen_ of which the word fairy tale is but an inaccurate rendering. The _Märchen_ are more than mere tales of helpful fairies. They have, as is well-known, a mythological background. They still bear distinct traces of ancient animism, and the myths which center about the phenomena of the storm, the battle of the sun with the clouds, the struggle of the fair spring god with the dark winter demons, are in them leading themes. But what originally was the outgrowth of superstition has now, to a great extent at least, been purified of its dross and converted into mere poetry. The _Märchen_ come to us from a time when the world was young. They represent the childhood of mankind, and it is for this reason that they never cease to appeal to children. The _Märchen_ have a subtile flavor all their own. They are pervaded by the poetry of forest life, are full of the sense of mystery and awe, which is apt to overcome one on penetrating deeper and deeper into the woods, away from human habitations. The _Märchen_ deal with the underground life of nature, which weaves in caverns and in the heart of mountains, where gnomes and dwarfs are at work gathering hidden treasures. And with this underground life children have a marvelous sympathy. The _Märchen_ present glowing pictures of sheltered firesides, where man finds rest and security from howling winds and nipping cold. But perhaps their chief attraction is due to their representing the child as living in brotherly fellowship with nature and all creatures. Trees, flowers, animals wild and tame, even the stars, are represented as the comrades of children. That animals are only human beings in disguise is an axiom in the fairy tales. Animals are humanized--i. e., the kinship between animal and human life is still strongly felt, and this reminds us of those early animistic interpretations of nature, which subsequently led to doctrines of metempsychosis. Plants, too, are often represented as incarnations of human spirits. Thus the twelve lilies are inhabited by the twelve brothers, and in the story of Snow-white and Rose-red the life of the two maidens appears to be bound up with the life of the white and red rosebush. The kinship of all life whatsoever is still realized. This being so, it is not surprising that men should understand the language of animals, and that these should interfere to protect the heroes and heroines of the _Märchen_ from threatened dangers. In the story of the faithful servant John, the three ravens flying above the ship reveal the secret of the red horse, the sulphurous shirt, and the three drops of blood, and John, who understands their communications, is thereby enabled to save his master's life. What, again, can be more beautiful than the way in which the tree and the two white doves co-operate to secure the happiness of the injured Cinderella! The tree rains down the golden dresses with which she appears at the ball, and the doves continue to warn the prince as he rides by that he has chosen the wrong bride until Cinderella herself passes, when they light on her shoulders, one on her right and the other on her left, making, perhaps, the loveliest picture to be found in all fairy lore. The child still lives in unbroken communion with the whole of nature; the harmony between its own life and the enveloping life has not yet been disturbed, and it is this harmony of the human with the natural world that reflects itself in the atmosphere of the _Märchen_, and makes them so admirably suited to satisfy the heart of childhood. But how shall we handle these _Märchen_ and what method shall we employ in putting them to account for our special purpose? I have a few thoughts on this subject, which I shall venture to submit in the form of counsels. My _first counsel_ is: Tell the story; do not give it to the child to read. There is an obvious practical reason for this. Children are able to benefit by hearing fairy tales before they can read. But that is not the only reason. It is the childhood of the race, as we have seen, that speaks in the fairy story to the child of to-day. It is the voice of an ancient, far-off past that echoes from the lips of the story-teller. The words "once upon a time" open up a vague retrospect into the past, and the child gets its first indistinct notions of history in this way. The stories embody the tradition of the childhood of mankind. They have on this account an authority all their own, not indeed that of literal truth, but one derived from their being types of certain feelings and longings which belong to childhood as such. The child as it listens to the _Märchen_, looks up with wide-opened eyes to the face of the person who tells the story, and thrills responsive as the touch of the earlier life of the race thus falls upon its own. Such an effect, of course, can not be produced by cold type. Tradition is a living thing, and should use the living voice for its vehicle. My _second counsel_ is also of a practical nature, and I make bold to say quite essential to the successful use of the stories. Do not take the moral plum out of the fairy-tale pudding, but let the child enjoy it as a whole. Do not make the story taper toward a single point, the moral point. You will squeeze all the juice out of it if you try. Do not subordinate the purely fanciful and naturalistic elements of the story, such as the love of mystery, the passion for roving, the sense of fellowship with the animal world, in order to fix attention solely on the moral element. On the contrary, you will gain the best moral effect by proceeding in exactly the opposite way. Treat the moral element as an incident; emphasize, it indeed, but incidentally. Pluck it as a wayside flower. How often does it happen that, having set out on a journey with a distinct object in mind, something occurs on the way which we had not foreseen, but which in the end leaves the deepest impression on the mind. The object which we had in view is long forgotten, but the incident which happened by the way is remembered for years after. So the moral result of the _Märchen_ will not be less sure because gained incidentally. An illustration will make plain what I mean. In the story of the Frog King we are told that there was once a young princess who was so beautiful that even the Sun, which sees a great many things, had never seen anything so beautiful as she was. A golden ball was her favorite plaything. One day, as she sat by a well under an old linden tree, she tossed the ball into the air and it fell into the well. She was very unhappy, and cried bitterly. Presently a frog put his ugly head out of the water, and offered to dive for the ball, on condition, however, that she would promise to take him for her playmate, to let him eat off her golden plate and drink out of her golden cup and sleep in her little snow-white bed. The princess promised everything. But no sooner had the frog brought her the ball than she scampered away, heedless of his cries. The next day as the royal family sat at dinner a knock was heard at the door. The princess opened and beheld the ugly toad claiming admittance. She screamed with fright and hastily shut the door in his face. But when the king, her father, had questioned her, he said, "What you have promised, you must keep"; and she obeyed her father, though it was sorely against her inclination to do so. That was right, children, was it not? One must always obey, even if one does not like what one is told to do. So the toad was brought in and lifted to the table, and he ate off the little golden plate and drank out of the golden cup. And when he had had enough, he said, "I am tired now, put me into your little snow-white bed." And again when she refused her father said: "What you have promised you must keep. Ugly though he is, he helped you when you were in distress, and you must not despise him now." And the upshot of the story is that the ugly toad, having been thrown against the wall, was changed into a beautiful prince, and of course some time after the prince and the princess were married. The naturalistic element of the story is the changing of the prince into a toad and back again from a toad into a prince. Children are very fond of disguises. It is one of their greatest pleasures to imagine things to be other than they are. And one of the chief attractions of such stories as the one we have related is that they cater to the fondness of the little folks for this sort of masquerading. The moral elements of the story are obvious. They should be touched on in such a manner as not to divert the interest from the main story. My _third counsel_ is to eliminate from the stories whatever is merely superstitious, merely a relic of ancient animism, and of course whatever is objectionable on moral grounds. For instance, such a story as that of the idle spinner, the purport of which seems to be that there is a special providence watching over lazy people. Likewise all those stories which turn upon the success of trickery and cunning. A special question arising under this head, and one which has been the subject of much vexed discussion, is in how far we should acquaint children with the existence of evil in the world, and to what extent we can use stories in which evil beings and evil motives are introduced. My own view is that we should speak in the child's hearing only of those lesser forms of evil, physical or moral, with which it is already acquainted, but exclude all those forms of evil which lie beyond its present experience. On this ground I should reject the whole brood of step-mother stories, or rather, as this might make too wide a swath, I should take the liberty of altering stories in which the typical bad step-mother occurs, but which are otherwise valuable. There is no reason why children should be taught to look on step-mothers in general as evilly disposed persons. The same applies to stories in which unnatural fathers are mentioned. I should also rule out such stories as that of The Wolf and The Seven Little Goats. The mother goat, on leaving the house, warns her little ones against the wolf, and gives them two signs by which they can detect him--his hoarse voice and black paws. The wolf knocks and finds himself discovered. He thereupon swallows chalk to improve his voice and compels the miller to whiten his paws. Then he knocks again, is admitted, leaps into the room, and devours the little goats one by one. The story, as used in the nursery, has a transparent purpose. It is intended to warn little children who are left at home alone against admitting strangers. The wolf represents evil beings in general--tramps, burglars, people who come to kidnap children, etc. Now I, for one, should not wish to implant this fear of strangers into the minds of the young. Fear is demoralizing. Children should look with confidence and trust upon all men. They need not be taught to fear robbers and burglars. Even the sight of wild animals need not awaken dread. Children naturally admire the beauty of the tiger's skin, and the lion in their eyes is a noble creature, of whose ferocity they have no conception. It is time enough for them later on to familiarize themselves with the fact that evil of a sinister sort exists within human society and outside of it. And it will be safe for them to face this fact then only, when they can couple with it the conviction that the forces of right and order in the world are strong enough to grapple with the sinister powers and hold them in subjection. And now let us review a number of the _Märchen_ against which none of these objections lie, which are delicious food for children's minds, and consider the place they occupy in a scheme of moral training. It has been already stated that each period of human life has a set of duties peculiar to itself. The principal duties of childhood are: Obedience to parents, love and kindness toward brothers and sisters, a proper regard for the feelings of servants, and kindness toward animals. We can classify the fairy tales which we can use under these various heads. Let us begin with the topic last mentioned. _Tales illustrating Kindness toward Animals._ The House in the Woods.--The daughter of a poor wood-cutter is lost in the woods, and comes at night to a lonely house. An old man is sitting within. Three animals--a cow, a cock, and a chicken--lie on the hearth. The child is made welcome, and is asked to prepare supper. She cooks for the old man and herself, but forgets the animals. The second daughter likewise goes astray in the woods, comes to the same house, and acts in the same way. The third daughter, a sweet, loving child, before sitting down to her own meal, brings in hay for the cow and barley for the cock and chicken, and by this act of kindness to animals breaks the spell which had been cast upon the house. The old man is immediately transformed into a prince, etc. The Story of the Dog Sultan.--Sultan is old, and about to be shot by his master. The wolf, seeing his cousin the dog in such distress, promises to help him. He arranges that on the morrow he will seize a sheep belonging to Sultan's master. The dog is to run after him, and he, the wolf, will drop the sheep and Sultan shall get the credit of the rescue. Everything passes off as prearranged, and Sultan's life is spared by his grateful owner. Some time after the wolf comes prowling around the house, and, reminding his friend that one good turn deserves another, declares that he has now come for mutton in good earnest. But the dog replies that nothing can tempt him to betray the interests of his master. The wolf persists, but Sultan gives the alarm and the thief receives his due in the shape of a sound beating. The point of special interest in the beautiful story of Snow-white and Rose-red above referred to is the incident of the bear. One cold winter's night some one knocks at the door. Snow-white and Rose-red go to open, when a huge black bear appears at the entrance and begs for shelter. He is almost frozen with the cold, he says, and would like to warm himself a bit. The two little girls are at first frightened, but, encouraged by their mother, they take heart and invite the bear into the kitchen. Soon a cordial friendship springs up between Bruin and the children. They brush the snow from his fur, tease, and caress him by turns. After this the bear returns every night, and finally turns out to be a beautiful prince. The Story of the Queen Bee tells about three brothers who wander through the world in search of adventures. One day they come to an ant-hill. The two older brothers are about to trample upon the ants "just for the fun of it." But the youngest pleads with them, saying: "Let them live; their life is as dear to them as ours is to us." Next they come to a pond in which many ducks are swimming about. The two older brothers are determined to shoot the ducks "just for the fun of it." The youngest again pleads as before, "Let them live," etc. Finally, he saves a bee-hive from destruction in the same manner. Thus they journey on until they come to an enchanted castle. To break the spell, it is necessary to find and gather up a thousand pearls which had fallen on the moss-covered ground in a certain wood. Five thousand ants come to help the youngest to find the pearls. The second task imposed is to find a golden key which had been thrown into a pond near the castle. The grateful ducks bring up the key from the bottom. The third task is the most difficult. In one of the interior chambers of the castle there are three marble images--three princesses, namely, who had been turned into stone. Before the spell took effect they had partaken, respectively, of sugar, sirup, and honey. To restore them to life it is necessary to discover which one had eaten the honey. The Queen Bee comes in with all her swarm and lights on the lips of the youngest and so solves the problem. The enchantment is immediately dissolved. All these stories illustrate kindness to animals. Among stories which illustrate the _respect due to the feelings of servants_ may be mentioned the tale of Faithful John, who understood the language of the ravens and saved his master from the dangers of the red horse, etc., a story which in addition impresses the lesson that we should confide in persons who have been found trustworthy, even if we do not understand their motives. In the popular tale of Cinderella the points especially to be noted are: The pious devotion of Cinderella to her mother's memory, and the fact that the poor kitchen drudge, underneath the grime and ashes which disfigure her, possesses qualities which raise her far above the proud daughters of the house. The lesson taught by this story that we should distinguish intrinsic worth from the accidents of rank and condition, is one which can not be impressed too early or too deeply. Under the heading of _brotherly and sisterly love_ belongs the lovely tale of Snow-white. The little dwarfs are to all intents and purposes her brothers. They receive and treat her as a sister, and she returns their affection in kind. The story of the Twelve Brothers, whom their sister redeems by seven years of silence at the peril of her own life, is another instance of tenderest sisterly devotion combined with self-control. This story, however, needs to be slightly altered. In place of the cruel father (we must not mention cruel fathers) who has got ready twelve coffins for his sons, in order that all the wealth of his kingdom may descend to his daughter, let us substitute the steward of the palace, who hopes by slaying the sons and winning the hand of the daughter, to become king himself. Finally the story of Red Riding Hood illustrates the cardinal virtue of childhood--_obedience to parents_. Children must not loiter on the way when they are sent on errands. And Riding Hood loiters, and hence all the mischief which follows. She is sent to bring wine and cake to her grandmother. The example of such attentions as this serves to quicken in children the sentiment of reverence for the aged. Children learn reverence toward their parents in part by the reverence which these display toward the grandparents. Another point is that Red Riding Hood, to quiet her conscience, when she strays from the straight path deceives herself as to her motives. She says, "I will also gather a bunch of wild flowers to please grandmother." But her real purpose is to enjoy the freedom of the woods, and the proof is that presently she forgets all about grandmother. There is one objection that has sometimes been urged against this story, viz., the part which the wolf plays in it. But the wolf is not really treated as a hostile or fearful being. He meets Red Riding Hood on the way, and they chat confidentially together. He appears rather in the light of a trickster. But, it is objected, that he devours the grandmother and, later on, Red Riding Hood herself. Very true; but the curious fact is that, when his belly is cut open, the grandmother and Red Riding Hood come out intact. They have evidently not been injured. Children have very defective notions of the human body, with the exception of such external parts as hands, feet, and face. In an examination recently conducted by Prof. G. Stanley Hall in regard to the contents of childrens' minds at the time they enter school, it was found that ninety per cent of those questioned had no idea where the heart is located, eighty-one per cent did not know anything about the lungs, ninety per cent could not tell where their ribs are situated, etc. Of the internal organs children have no idea. Hence when the story says that the grandmother is swallowed by the wolf, the impression created is that she has been forced down into a sort of dark hole, and that her situation, while rather uncomfortable, no doubt, is not otherwise distressing. The ideas of torn and mangled flesh are not suggested. Hence the act of devouring arouses no feeling of horror, and the story of Red Riding Hood, that prime favorite of all young children, may be related without any apprehension as to its moral effect. Then there are other stories, such as that of the man who went abroad to learn the art of shuddering--an excellent example of bravery; the story of the seven Suabians--a persiflage of cowardice; the story of the _Marienkind_ which contains a wholesome lesson against obstinacy, etc. I have not, of course, attempted to cover the whole ground, but only to mention a few examples sufficient to show along what lines the selection may be made. The ethical interests peculiar to childhood are the heads under which the whole material can be classified. The value of the fairy tales is that they stimulate the imagination; that they reflect the unbroken communion of human life with the life universal, as in beasts, fishes, trees, flowers, and stars; and that incidentally, but all the more powerfully on that account, they quicken the moral sentiments. Let us avail ourselves freely of the treasures which are thus placed at our disposal. Let us welcome _das Märchen_ into our primary course of moral training, that with its gentle bands, woven of "morning mist and morning glory," it may help to lead our children into the bright realms of the ideal. VII. THE USE OF FABLES. The collection of fables which figures under the name of Æsop has to a very remarkable degree maintained its popularity among children, and many of its typical characters have been adopted into current literature, such as the Dog in the Manger, the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing, King Log, and King Stork, and others. Recent researches have brought to light the highly interesting fact that these fables are of Asiatic origin. A collection of Indian and, it is believed, Buddhist fables and stories traveled at an early period into Persia, where it became known as the Pancha-Tantra. The Pancha-Tantra was translated into Arabic, and became the source of the voluminous Kalilah-wa-Dimnah literature. The Arabic tales in turn migrated into Europe at the time of the Crusades and were rendered into Greek, Hebrew, and Latin. In this form they became accessible to the nations of Europe, were extensively circulated, and a collection of them was wrongly, but very naturally, ascribed to a famous story-teller of the ancient Greeks--i. e., to Æsop. The arguments on which this deduction is based may be found in Rhys Davids's introduction to his English translation of the Jataka Tales.[8] This author speaks of Æsop's fables as a first moral lesson-book for our children in the West. We shall have to consider in how far this description is correct--that is to say, in how far we can use the fables for moral purposes. The point to be kept in mind is their Asiatic origin, as this will at once help us to separate the fables which we can use from those which must be rejected. A discrimination of this sort is absolutely necessary. I am of the opinion that it is a serious mistake to place the whole collection as it stands in the hands of children. To decide this question we must study the _milieu_ in which the fables arose, the spirit which they breathe, the conditions which they reflect. The conditions they reflect are those of an Oriental despotism. They depict a state of society in which the people are cruelly oppressed by tyrannical rulers, and the weak are helpless in the hands of the strong. The spirit which they breathe is, on the whole, one of patient and rather hopeless submission. The effect upon the reader as soon as he has caught this clew, this _Leitmotiv_, which occurs in a hundred variations, is very saddening. I must substantiate this cardinal point by a somewhat detailed analysis. Let us take first the fable of the Kite and the Pigeons. A kite had been sailing in the air for many days near a pigeon-house with the intention of seizing the pigeons; at last he had recourse to stratagem. He expressed his deep concern at their unjust and unreasonable suspicions of himself, as if he intended to do them an injury. He declared that, on the contrary, he had nothing more at heart than the defense of their ancient rights and liberties, and ended by proposing that they should accept him as their protector, their king. The poor, simple pigeons consented. The kite took the coronation oath in a very solemn manner. But much time had not elapsed before the good kite declared it to be a part of the king's prerogative to devour a pigeon now and then, and the various members of his family adhered to the same view of royal privilege. The miserable pigeons exclaimed: "Ah, we deserve no better. Why did we let him in!" The fable of the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing conveys essentially the same idea. The fable of the Lion and the Deer illustrates the exorbitant exactions practiced by despots. A fat deer was divided into four parts. His majesty the lion proposed that they be suitably apportioned. The first part he claimed for himself on account of his true hereditary descent from the royal family of Lion; the second he considered properly his own because he had headed the hunt; the third he took in virtue of his prerogative; and finally he assumed a menacing attitude, and dared any one to dispute his right to the fourth part also. In the fable of the Sick Lion and the Fox, the fox says: "I see the footprints of beasts who have gone into the cave, but of none that have come out." The fable of the Cat and the Mice expresses the same thought, namely, that it is necessary to be ever on one's guard against the mighty oppressors even when their power seems for the time to have deserted them. The cat pretends to be dead, hoping by this means to entice the mice within her reach. A cunning old mouse peeps over the edge of the shelf, and says: "Aha, my good friend, are you there? I would not trust myself with you though your skin were stuffed with straw." The fable of King Log and King Stork shows what a poor choice the people have in the matter of their kings. First they have a fool for their king, a mere log, and they are discontented. Then Stork ascends the throne, and he devours them. It would have been better if they had put up with the fool. The injustice of despotic rulers is exemplified in the fable of the Kite and the Wolf. The kite and the wolf are seated in judgment. The dog comes before them to sue the sheep for debt. Kite and wolf, without waiting for the evidence, give sentence for the plaintiff, who immediately tears the poor sheep into pieces and divides the spoil with the judges. The sort of thanks which the people get when they are foolish enough to come to the assistance of their masters, is illustrated by the conduct of the wolf toward the crane. The wolf happened to have a bone sticking in his throat, and, howling with pain, promised a reward to any one who should relieve him. At last the crane ventured his long neck into the wolf's throat and plucked out the bone. But when he asked for his reward, the wolf glared savagely upon him, and said: "Is it not enough that I refrained from biting off your head?" How dangerous it is to come at all into close contact with the mighty, is shown in the fable of the Earthen and the Brazen Pot. The brazen pot offers to protect the earthen one as they float down stream. "Oh," replies the latter, "keep as far off as ever you can, if you please; for, whether the stream dashes you against me or me against you, I am sure to be the sufferer." The fables which we have considered have for their theme the character of the strong as exhibited in their dealings with the weak. A second group is intended to recommend a certain policy to be pursued by the weak in self-protection. This policy consists either in pacifying the strong by giving up to them voluntarily what they want, or in flight, or, if that be impossible, in uncomplaining submission. The first expedient is recommended in the fable of the Beaver. A beaver who was being hard pressed by a hunter and knew not how to escape, suddenly, with a great effort, bit off the part which the hunter desired, and, throwing it toward him, by this means escaped with his life. The expedient of flight is recommended in the fable of Reynard and the Cat. Reynard and the cat one day were talking politics in the forest. The fox boasted that though things might turn out never so badly, he had still a thousand tricks to play before they should catch him. The cat said: "I have but one trick, and if that does not succeed I am undone." Presently a pack of hounds came upon them full cry. The cat ran up a tree and hid herself among the top branches. The fox, who had not been able to get out of sight, was overtaken despite his thousand tricks and torn to pieces by the hounds. The fable of the Oak and the Reed teaches the policy of utter, uncomplaining submission. The oak refuses to bend, and is broken. The supple reed yields to the blast, and is safe. Is it not a little astonishing that this fable should so often be related to children as if it contained a moral which they ought to take to heart? To make it apply at all, it is usually twisted from its proper signification and explained as meaning that one should not be fool-hardy, not attempt to struggle against overwhelming odds. But this is not the true interpretation. The oak is by nature strong and firm, while it is the nature of the reed to bend to every wind. The fable springs out of the experience of a people who have found resistance against oppression useless. And this sort of teaching we can not, of course, wish to give to our children. I should certainly prefer that a child of mine should take the oak, and not the reed, for his pattern. The same spirit is again inculcated in the fable of the Wanton Calf. The wanton calf sneers at the poor ox who all day long bears the heavy yoke patiently upon his neck. But in the evening it turns out that the ox is unyoked, while the calf is butchered. The choice seems to lie between subserviency and destruction. The fable of the Old Woman and her Maids suggests the same conclusion, with the warning added that it is useless to rise against the agents of tyranny so long as the tyrants themselves can not be overthrown. The cock in the fable represents the agents of oppression. The killing of the cock serves only to bring the mistress herself on the scene, and the lot of the servants becomes in consequence very much harder than it had been before. We have now considered two groups of fables: those which depict the character of the mighty, and those which treat of the proper policy of the weak. The subject of the third group is, the consolations of the weak. These are, first, that even tyrannical masters are to a certain extent dependent upon their inferiors, and can be punished if they go too far; secondly, that the mighty occasionally come to grief in consequence of dissensions among themselves; thirdly, that fortune is fickle. A lion is caught in the toils, and would perish did not a little mouse come to his aid by gnawing asunder the knots and fastenings. The bear robs the bees of their honey, but is punished and rendered almost desperate by their stings. An eagle carries off the cub of a fox; but the fox, snatching a fire-brand, threatens to set the eagle's nest on fire, and thus forces him to restore her young one. This is evidently a fable of insurrection. The fable of the Viper and the File shows that it is not safe to attack the wrong person--in other words, that tyrants sometimes come to grief by singling out for persecution some one who is strong enough to resist them though they little suspect it. The fable of the four bulls shows the effect of dissensions among the mighty. Four bulls had entered into a close alliance, and agreed to keep always near one another. A lion fomented jealousies among them. The bulls grew distrustful of one another, and at last parted company. The lion had now obtained his end, and seized and devoured them singly. The fickleness of fortune is the theme of the fable of the Horse and the Ass. The horse, richly caparisoned and champing his foaming bridle, insults an ass who moves along under a heavy load. Soon after the horse is wounded, and, being unfit for military service, is sold to a carrier. The ass now taunts the proud animal with his fallen estate. The horse in this fable is the type of many an Eastern vizier, who has basked for a time in the sunshine of a despot's favor only to be suddenly and ignominiously degraded. The ass in the fable represents the people. There remains a fourth group of fables, which satirize certain mean or ridiculous types of characters, such as are apt to appear in social conditions of the kind we have described. Especially do the fables make a target of the folly of those who affect the manners of the aristocratic class, or who try to crowd in where they are not wanted, or who boast of their high connections. The frog puffs himself up so that he may seem as large as the ox, until he bursts. The mouse aspires to marry the young lioness, and is in fact well received; but the young lady inadvertently places her foot on her suitor and crushes him. The jackdaw picks up feathers which have fallen from the peacocks, sticks them among his own, and introduces himself into the assembly of those proud birds. They find him out, strip him of his plumes, and with their sharp bills punish him as he deserves. A fly boasts that he frequents the most distinguished company, and that he is on familiar terms with the king, the priests, and the nobility. Many a time, he says, he has entered the royal chamber, has sat upon the altar, and has even enjoyed the privilege of kissing the lips of the most beautiful maids of honor. "Yes," replies an ant, "but in what capacity are you admitted among all these great people? One and all regard you as a nuisance, and the sooner they can get rid of you the better they are pleased." Most of the fables which thus far have been mentioned we can not use. The discovery of their Asiatic origin sheds a new, keen light upon their meaning. They breathe, in many cases, a spirit of fear, of abject subserviency, of hopeless pessimism. Can we desire to inoculate the young with this spirit? The question may be asked why fables are so popular with boys. I should say, Because school-boy society reproduces in miniature to a certain extent the social conditions which are reflected in the fables. Among unregenerate school-boys there often exists a kind of despotism, not the less degrading because petty. The strong are pitted against the weak--witness the fagging system in the English schools--and their mutual antagonism produces in both the characteristic vices which we have noted above. The psychological study of school-boy society has been only begun, but even what lies on the surface will, I think, bear out this remark. Now it has come to be one of the commonplaces of educational literature, that the individual of to-day must pass through the same stages of evolution as the human race as a whole. But it should not be forgotten that the advance of civilization depends on two conditions: first, that the course of evolution be accelerated, that the time allowed to the successive stages be shortened; and, secondly, that the unworthy and degrading elements which entered into the process of evolution in the past, and at the time were inseparable from it, be now eliminated. Thus the fairy-tales which correspond to the myth-making epoch in human history must be purged of the dross of superstition which still adheres to them, and the fables which correspond to the age of primitive despotisms must be cleansed of the immoral elements they still embody. The fables which are fit for use may be divided into two classes: those which give illustrations of evil,[9] the effect of which on the young should be to arouse disapprobation, and those which present types of virtue. The following is a list of some of the principal ones in each category: _An Instance of Selfishness._ The porcupine having begged for hospitality and having been invited into a nest of snakes, inconveniences the inmates and finally crowds them out. When they remonstrate, he says, "Let those quit the place that do not like it." _Injustice._ The fable of the Kite and the Wolf, mentioned above. _Improvidence._ The fable of the Ant and the Grasshopper; also the fable entitled One Swallow does not make Summer, and the fable of the Man who Killed the Goose that laid the Golden Eggs. _Ingratitude._ The fable of the snake which bit the countryman who had warmed it in his breast. _Cowardice._ The fable of the Stag and the Fawn, and of the Hares in the Storm. _Vanity._ The fables of the Peacock and the Crane, and of the Crow who lost his Cheese by listening to the flattery of the fox. _Contemptuous Self-confidence._ The Hare and the Tortoise. _The Evil Influence of Bad Company._ The Husbandman and the Stork. _Cruelty to Animals._ The Fowler and the Ringdove; the Hawk and the Pigeons. _Greediness._ The Dog and the Shadow. _Lying._ The fable of the boy who cried "Wolf!" _Bragging._ The fable of the Ass in the Lion's Skin. _Deceit._ The fable of the Fox without a Tail. _Disingenuousness._ The fable of the Sour Grapes. _A Discontented Spirit._ The fable of the Peacock's Complaint. _Equal Graces are not given to all._ The fable of the Ass who leaped into his Master's Lap. _Borrowed Plumes._ The fable of the Jackdaw and the Peacocks, mentioned above. _Malice._ The fable of the Dog in the Manger, who would not eat, neither let others eat. _Breaking Faith._ The fable of the Traveler and the Bear. _To Fan Animosity is even Worse than to Quarrel._ The fable of the Trumpeter. The value of these fables, as has been said, consists in the reaction which they call forth in the minds of the pupils. Sometimes this reaction finds expression in the fable itself; sometimes the particular vice is merely depicted in its nakedness, and it becomes the business of the teacher distinctly to evoke the feeling of disapprobation, and to have it expressly stated in words. The words tend to fix the feeling. Often, when a child has committed some fault, it is useful to refer by name to the fable that fits it. As, when a boy has made room in his seat for another, and the other crowds him out, the mere mention of the fable of the Porcupine is a telling rebuke; or the fable of the Hawk and the Pigeons may be called to mind when a boy has been guilty of mean excuses. On the same principle that angry children are sometimes taken before a mirror to show them how ugly they look. The fable is a kind of mirror for the vices of the young. Of the fables that illustrate virtuous conduct, I mention that of Hercules and the Cart-driver, which teaches self-reliance. Hercules helps the driver as soon as the latter has put his own shoulders to the wheel. Also the fable of the Lark. So long as the farmer depends on his neighbors, or his kinsmen, the lark is not afraid; but when he proposes to buckle to himself, she advises her young that it is time to seek another field. The fable of the Wind and the Sun shows that kindness succeeds where rough treatment would fail. The fable of the Bundle of Sticks exemplifies the value of harmony. The fable of the Wolf, whom the dog tries to induce to enter civilization, expresses the sentiment that lean liberty is to be preferred to pampered servitude. The fable of the Old Hound teaches regard for old servants. Finally, the fable of the Horse and the Loaded Ass, and of the Dove and the Ant, show that kindness pays on selfish principles. The horse refuses to share the ass's burden; the ass falls dead under his load; in consequence, the horse has to bear the whole of it. On the other hand the dove rescues the ant from drowning, and the ant in turn saves the dove from the fowler's net. The last remark throws light on the point of view from which the fables contemplate good and evil. It is to be noted that a really moral spirit is wanting in them; the moral motives are not appealed to. The appeal throughout is to the bare motive of self-interest. Do not lie, because you will be found out, and will be left in the lurch when you depend for help on the confidence of others. Do not indulge in vanity, because you will make yourself ridiculous. Do not try to appear like a lion when you can not support the character, because people will find out that you are only an ass. Do not act ungratefully, because you will be thrust out of doors. Even when good conduct is inculcated, it is on the ground that it pays. Be self-reliant, because if you help yourself others will help you. Be kind, because by gentle means you can gain your purpose better than by harshness. Agree with your neighbors, because you can then, like the bundle of sticks, resist aggression from without. That lying is wrong on principle; that greediness is shameful, whether you lose your cheese or not; that kindness is blessed, even when it does not bring a material reward; that it is lovely for neighbors to dwell together in peace, is nowhere indicated. The beauty and the holiness of right conduct lie utterly beyond the horizon of the fable. Nevertheless, as we have seen when speaking of the efficient motives of conduct, self-interest as a motive should not be underrated, but should be allowed the influence which belongs to it as an auxiliary to the moral motive. It is well, it is necessary, for children to learn that lying, besides being in itself disgraceful, does also entail penalties of a palpable sort; that vanity and self-conceit, besides being immoral, are also punished by the contempt of one's fellows; that those who are unkind, as the horse was to the ass, may have to bear the ass's burden. The checks and curbs supplied by such considerations as these serve the purpose of strengthening the weak conscience of the young, and are not to be dispensed with, provided always they are treated not as substitutes for but as auxiliaries to the moral motives, properly speaking. As to the place in the primary course which I have assigned to the fables, I have the following remark to offer: In speaking of fairy tales, it was stated that the moral element should be touched on incidentally, and that it should not be separated from the other, the naturalistic elements. The pedagogical reason which leads me to assign to the fables the second place in the course, is that each fable deals exclusively with one moral quality, which is thus isolated and held up to be contemplated. In the stories which will occupy the third place a number of moral qualities are presented in combination. We have, therefore, what seems to be a logical and progressive order--first, fairy tales in which the moral is still blended with other elements; secondly, a single moral quality set off by itself; then, a combination of such qualities. The peculiar value of the fables is that they are instantaneous photographs, which reproduce, as it were, in a single flash of light, some one aspect of human nature, and which, excluding everything else, permit the entire attention to be fixed on that one. As to the method of handling them, I should say to the teacher: Relate the fable; let the pupil repeat it in his own words, making sure that the essential points are stated correctly. By means of questions elicit a clean-cut expression of the point which the fable illustrates; then ask the pupil to give out of his experience other instances illustrating the same point. This is precisely the method pursued in the so-called primary object lessons. The child, for instance, having been shown a red ball, is asked to state the color of the ball, and then to name other objects of the same color; or to give the shape of the ball, and then to name other objects having the same shape. In like manner, when the pupil has heard the fable of the Fox and the Wolf, and has gathered from it that compassion when expressed merely in words is useless, and that it must lead to deeds to be really praiseworthy, it will be easy for him out of his own experience to multiply instances which illustrate the same truth. The search for instances makes the point of the fable clearer, while the expression of the thought in precise language, on which the teacher should always insist, tends to drive it home. It will be our aim in the present course of lectures to apply the methods of object teaching, now generally adopted in other branches, to the earliest moral instruction of children--an undertaking, of course, not without difficulties. FOOTNOTES: [8] Buddhist Birth Stories; or Jataka Tales, translated by T. W. Rhys Davids. [9] I remarked above that fables should be excluded if the moral they inculcate is bad, not if they depict what is bad. In the latter case they often may serve a useful purpose. VIII. SUPPLEMENTARY REMARKS ON FABLES. Apart from the collection which figures under the name of Æsop, there are other fables, notably the so-called Jataka tales, which deserve attention. The Jataka tales contain deep truths, and are calculated to impress lessons of great moral beauty. The tale of the Merchant of Seri, who gave up all that he had in exchange for a golden dish, embodies much the same idea as the parable of the Priceless Pearl, in the New Testament. The tale of the Measures of Rice illustrates the importance of a true estimate of values. The tale of the Banyan Deer, which offered its life to save a roe and her young, illustrates self-sacrifice of the noblest sort. The Kulavaka-Jataka contains the thought that a forgiving spirit toward one's enemies disarms even the evil-minded. The tale of the Partridge, the Monkey, and the Elephant teaches that the best seats belong not to the nobles or the priests, to the rich or the learned, not even to the most pious, but that reverence and service and respect and civility are to be paid according to age, and for the aged the best seat, the best water, the best rice, are to be reserved. The tale of Nanda, or the Buried Gold, is a rebuke to that base insolence which vulgar natures often exhibit when they possess a temporary advantage. The tale of the Sandy Road is one of the finest in the collection. It pictures to us a caravan wandering through the desert under the starlight. The guide, whose duty it was to pilot them through this sea of sand, has, it appears, fallen asleep at his post from excessive weariness, and at dawn the travelers discover that they have gone astray, and that far and wide no water is in sight wherewith to quench their burning thirst. At this moment, however, the leader espies a small tuft of grass on the face of the desert, and, reasoning that water must be flowing somewhere underneath, inspires his exhausted followers to new exertions. A hole sixty feet deep is dug under his direction, but at length they come upon hard rock, and can dig no farther. But even then he does not yield to despair. Leaping down, he applies his ear to the rock. Surely, it is water that he hears gurgling underneath! One more effort, he cries, and we are saved! But of all his followers one only had strength or courage enough left to obey. This one strikes a heavy blow, the rock is split open, and lo! the living water gushes upward in a flood. The lesson is that of perseverance and presence of mind in desperate circumstances. The tale entitled Holding to the Truth narrates the sad fate of a merchant who suffered himself to be deceived by a mirage into the belief that water was near, and emptied the jars which he carried with him in order to reach the pleasant land the sooner. The Jataka entitled On True Divinity contains a very beautiful story about three brothers, the Sun prince, the Moon prince, and the future Buddha or Bodisat. The king, their father, expelled the Moon prince and the future Buddha in order to secure the succession to the Sun prince alone. But the Sun prince could not bear to be separated from his brothers, and secretly followed them into exile. They journeyed together until they came to a certain lake. This lake was inhabited by an evil spirit, to whom power had been given to destroy all who entered his territory unless they could redeem their lives by answering the question, "What is truly divine?" So the Sun prince was asked first, and he answered, "The sun and the moon and the gods are divine." But that not being the correct answer, the evil spirit seized and imprisoned him in his cave. Then the Moon prince was asked, and he answered, "The far-spreading sky is called divine." But he, too, was carried away to the same place to be destroyed. Then the future Buddha was asked, and he answered: "Give ear, then, attentively, and hear what divine nature is;" and he uttered the words-- "The pure in heart who fear to sin, The good, kindly in word and deed, These are the beings in the world Whose nature should be called divine." And when the evil spirit heard these words, he bowed, and said: "I will give up to you one of your brothers." Then the future Buddha said, "Give me the life of my brother, the Sun prince, for it is on his account that we have been driven away from our home and thrust into exile." The evil spirit was overcome by this act of generosity, and said, "Verily, O teacher, thou not only knowest what is divine, but hast acted divinely." And he gave him the life of both his brothers, the Sun prince as well as the Moon prince. I could not resist the temptation of relating a few of these tales. They are, as every one must admit, nobly conceived, lofty in meaning, and many a helpful sermon might be preached from them as texts. But, of course, not all are fit to be used in a primary course. Some of them are, some are not. The teacher will have no difficulty in making the right selection. To the former class belongs also No. 28 of the collection,[10] which is excellently adapted to impress the lesson of kindness to animals. Long ago the Buddha came to life in the shape of a powerful bull. His master, a Brahman, asserted that this bull of his could move a hundred loaded carts ranged in a row and bound together. Being challenged to prove his assertion, he bathed the bull, gave him scented rice, hung a garland of flowers around his neck, and yoked him to the first cart. Then he raised his whip and called out, "Gee up, you brute. Drag them along, you wretch!" The bull said to himself, "He calls me wretch; I am no wretch." And keeping his forelegs as firm as steel, he stood perfectly still. Thereupon the Brahman, his master, was compelled to pay a forfeit of a thousand pieces of gold because he had not made good his boast. After a while the bull said to the Brahman, who seemed very much dispirited: "Brahman, I have lived a long time in your house. Have I ever broken any pots, or have I rubbed against the walls, or have I made the walks around the premises unclean?" "Never, my dear," said the Brahman. "Then why did you call me wretch? But if you will never call me wretch again, you shall have two thousand pieces for the one thousand you have lost." The Brahman, hearing this, called his neighbors together, set up one hundred loaded carts as before, then seated himself on the pole, stroked the bull on the back, and called out, "Gee up, my beauty! Drag them along, my beauty!" And the bull, with a mighty effort, dragged along the whole hundred carts, heavily loaded though they were. The bystanders were greatly astonished, and the Brahman received two thousand pieces on account of the wonderful feat performed by the bull. The 30th Jataka corresponds to the fable of the Ox and the Calf in the Æsop collection. The 33d, like the fable of the Bundle of Sticks, teaches the lesson of unity, but in a form a little nearer to the understanding of children. Long ago, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the future Buddha came to life as a quail. At that time there was a fowler who used to go to the place where the quails dwelt and imitate their cry; and when they had assembled, he would throw his net over them. But the Buddha said to the quails: "In future, as soon as he has thrown the net over us, let each thrust his head through a mesh of the net, then all lift it together, carry it off to some bush, and escape from underneath it." And they did so and were saved. But one day a quail trod unawares on the head of another, and a disgraceful quarrel ensued. The next time the fowler threw his net over them, each of the quails pretended that the others were leaving him to bear the greatest strain, and cried out, "You others begin, and then I will help." The consequence was that no one began, and the net was not raised, and the fowler bagged them all. The 26th Jataka enforces the truth that evil communications corrupt good manners, and contains more particularly a warning against listening to the conversation of wicked people. Thus much concerning the Jataka tales. There exists also a collection of Hindu fairy tales and fables, gathered from oral tradition by M. Frere, and published under the title of Old Deccan Days. A few of these are very charming, and well adapted for our purpose. For example, the fable of King Lion and the Sly Little Jackals. The story is told with delightful _naïveté_. Singh-Rajah, the lion-king, is very hungry. He has already devoured all the jackals of the forest, and only a young married couple, who are extremely fond of each other, remain. The little jackal-wife is terribly frightened when she hears in their immediate vicinity the roar of Singh-Rajah. But the young husband tries to comfort her, and to save their lives he hits on the following expedient: He makes her go with him straight to the cave of the terrible lion. Singh-Rajah no sooner sees them than he exclaims: "It is well you have arrived at last. Come here quickly, so that I may eat you." The husband says: "Yes, your Majesty, we are entirely ready to do as you bid us, and, in fact, we should have come long ago, as in duty bound, to satisfy your royal appetite, but there is another Singh-Rajah mightier than you in the forest, who would not let us come." "What!" says the lion, "another Singh-Rajah mightier than I! That is impossible." "Oh! but it is a fact," say the young couple in a breath; "and he is really much more terrible than you are." "Show him to me, then," says Singh-Rajah, "and I will prove to you that what you say is false--that there is no one to be compared with me in might." So the little jackals ran on together ahead of the lion, until they reached a deep well. "He is in there," they said, pointing to the well. The lion looked down angrily and saw his own image, the image of an angry lion glaring back at him. He shook his mane; the other did the same. Singh-Rajah thereupon, unable to contain himself, leaped down to fight his competitor, and, of course, was drowned. The fable clothes in childlike language the moral that anger is blind, and that the objects which excite our anger are often merely the outward reflections of our own passions. In the fable of the Brahman, the Tiger, and the Six Judges, we have a lesson against ingratitude, and also against useless destruction of animal life. In the fable of the Camel and the Jackal, the latter does not appear in the same favorable light as above. The jackal and the camel were good friends. One day the jackal said to his companion: "I know of a field of sugar-cane on the other side of the river, and near by there are plenty of crabs and small fishes. The crabs and fishes will do for me, while you can make a fine dinner off the sugar-cane. If there were only a way of getting across!" The camel offered to swim across, taking the jackal on his back, and in this way they reached the opposite bank. The jackal ate greedily, and had soon finished his meal; thereupon he began to run up and down, and to exercise his voice, screaming lustily. The camel begged him to desist, but in vain. Presently the cries of the jackal roused the villagers. They came with sticks and cudgels and cruelly beat the camel, and drove him out of the field before he had had time to eat more than a few mouthfuls. When the men were gone at last, the jackal said, "Let us now go home." "Very well," said the camel, "climb on my back." When they were midway between the two banks, the camel said to the jackal: "Why did you make such a noise and spoil my dinner, bringing on those cruel men, who beat me so that every bone in my body aches? Did I not beg you to stop?" "Oh," said the jackal, "I meant no harm. I was only singing a bit. I always sing after dinner, just for amusement." They had by this time reached the place where the water was deepest. "Well," said the camel, "I also like innocent amusements. For instance, it is my custom to lie on my back after dinner and to stretch myself a bit." With that he turned over, and the jackal fell into the stream. He swallowed pailfuls of water, and it was only with the utmost difficulty that he succeeded in reaching the bank. He had received a salutary lesson on the subject of inconsiderate selfishness--a fault very common with children, which such a story as this may help to correct. As to the modern fables, I fear they will yield us but a scanty harvest. The fables of La Fontaine, where they depart from Æsopian originals, are hardly suitable for children, and those of the German poet Gellert impress me, on the whole, in the same way, though a few of them may be added to our stock. For instance, the fable of the Greenfinch and the Nightingale. These two birds occupy the same cage before the window of Damon's house. Presently the voice of the nightingale is heard, and then ceases. The father leads his little boy before the cage and asks him which of the two he believes to have been the sweet musician, the brightly colored greenfinch or the outwardly unattractive nightingale. The child immediately points to the former, and is then instructed as to his error. The lesson, of course, is that fine clothes and real worth do not always go together. The fable of the Blind and the Lame Man teaches the advantages of co-operation. The Carriage Horse and the Cart Horse is a fable for the rich. Possibly the fable of the Peasant and his Son, which is directed against lies of exaggeration, may also be utilized, though I realize that there are objections to it. FOOTNOTE: [10] Buddhist Birth Stories; or Jataka Tales. IX. STORIES FROM THE BIBLE. _Introduction._--It will have been noticed that in choosing our illustrative material we have confined ourselves to what may be called classical literature. The German _Märchen_ has lived in the traditions of the German people for centuries, and is as fresh to-day as Snow-white herself when she woke from her trance. The fables, as has been shown, have been adopted into the language and literature of Persia, of Arabia, of the nations of Europe, and are still found in the hands of our own children. Let us continue to pursue the same method of selection. Instead of relying on juvenile literature just produced, or attempting to write moralizing stories specially adapted for the purpose in hand, let us continue, without excluding invention altogether, to rely mainly on that which has stood the test of time. In the third part of our primary course we shall use selected stories from the classical literature of the Hebrews, and later on from that of Greece, particularly the Odyssey and the Iliad. The stories to which I refer possess a perennial vitality, an indestructible charm. I am, I trust, no blind worshiper of antiquity. The mere fact that a thing has existed for a thousand or two thousand years is not always proof that it is worth preserving. But the fact that after having been repeated for two thousand years a story still possesses a perfectly fresh attraction for the child of to-day, does indeed prove that there is in it something of imperishable worth. How is this unique charm of the classical literature to be explained? What quality exists in Homer, in the Bible, enabling them, despite the changes of taste and fashion, to hold their own? The novels of the last century are already antiquated; few care to read them. The poetry of the middle ages is enjoyed only by those who cultivate a special taste for it. Historical and scientific works hardly have time to leave an impression before new books appear to crowd them out. But a few great masterpieces have survived, and the truth and beauty of these the lapse of ages, it seems, has left unaltered. Mr. Jebb remarks[11] that Homer aims at the lucid expression of primary motives, and refrains from multiplying individual traits which might interfere with their effect, and that this typical quality in Homer's portraiture has been one secret of its universal impressiveness. The Homeric outlines are in each case brilliantly distinct, while they leave to the reader a certain liberty of private conception, and he can fill them in so as to satisfy his own ideal. We may add that this is just as true of the Bible as of Homer. The biblical narrative, too, depicts a few essential traits of human nature, and refrains from multiplying minor traits which might interfere with the main effect. The Bible, too, draws its figures in outline, and leaves every age free to fill them in so as to satisfy its own ideal. Thus the biblical story, as conceived in the mind of Milton, reflects the Puritan ideal; the same story, narrated in a modern pulpit or Sunday-school, will inevitably reflect, to a greater or less degree, the modern humanitarian ideal, and this liberty of interpretation is one cause of the vitality of the Bible. But it may be asked further, How did Homer, how did the biblical writers, succeed in producing such universal types, in drawing their figures so correctly that, however the colors may thenceforth be varied, the outlines remain forever true? He who should attempt at the present day to give expression to the most universal traits of human nature, freed from the complex web of conditions, disengaged from the thousand-fold minor traits which modify the universal in particular instances, would find it difficult to avoid one or the other of two fatal errors. If he keeps his eyes fixed on the universal, he is in danger of producing a set of bloodless abstractions, pale shadows of reality, which will not live for a day, much less for a thousand years. If, on the other hand, he tries to keep close to reality he will probably produce more or less accurate copies of the types that surround him, but the danger will always be that the universal will be lost amid the particulars. By what quality in themselves or fortunate constellation of circumstances did Homer and the biblical writers succeed in avoiding both these errors, in creating types of the utmost universality and yet imparting to them the breath of life, the gait and accent of distinctive individuality? I imagine that they succeeded because they lived at a time when life was much less complex than it is at present, when the conversation, the manners, the thoughts, the motives of men were simple. They were enabled to individualize the universal because the most universal, the simplest motives, still formed the mainspring in the conduct of individuals. It was not necessary for them to enter into the barren region of abstraction and generalization to discover the universal. They pictured what they actually saw. The universal and the individual were still blended in that early dawn of human history. We have thus far spoken of Homer and the Bible jointly. But let us now give our particular attention to the biblical narrative. The narrative of the Bible is fairly saturated with the moral spirit; the moral issues are everywhere in the forefront. Duty, guilt and its punishment, the conflict of conscience with inclination, are the leading themes. The Hebrew people seem to have been endowed with what may be called "a moral genius," and especially did they emphasize the filial and fraternal duties to an extent hardly equaled elsewhere. Now it is precisely these duties that must be impressed on young children, and hence the biblical stories present us with the very material we require. They can not, in this respect, be replaced; there is no other literature in the world that offers what is equal to them in value for the particular object we have now in view. Before proceeding, however, to discuss the stories in detail, let me remind you that in studying them a larger tax is made on the attention of children, and a higher development of the moral judgment is presupposed, than in the previous parts of our course; for in them a succession of acts and their consequences are presented to the scholar, on each of which his judgment is to be exercised. Those who teach the biblical stories merely because it has been customary to regard the Bible as the text-book of morals and religion, without, however, being clear as to the place which belongs to it in a scheme of moral education, will always, I doubt not, achieve a certain result. The stories will never entirely fail of their beneficial effect, but I can not help thinking that this effect will be greatly heightened if their precise pedagogic value is distinctly apprehended, and if the preparatory steps have been taken in due course. It seems to me that the moral judgment should first be exercised on a single moral quality as exhibited in a single act before it is applied to a whole series of acts; and hence that the fable should precede the story. In making our selection from the rich material before us we need only keep in mind the principle already enunciated in the introductory lectures--that the moral teaching at any period should relate to the duties of that period. _Adam and Eve in Paradise._ This is a wonderful story for children. It deserves to be placed at the head of all the others, for it inculcates the cardinal virtue of childhood--obedience. It is also a typical story of the beginning, the progress, and the culmination of temptation. Will you permit me to relate the story as I should tell it to little children? I shall endeavor to keep true to the outlines, and if I depart from the received version in other respects, may I not plead that liberty of interpretation to which I have referred above. Once upon a time there were two children, Adam and Eve. Adam was a fine and noble-looking lad. He was slender and well built, and fleet of foot as a young deer. Eve was as beautiful as the dawn, with long golden tresses, and blue eyes, and cheeks like the rose. They lived in the loveliest garden that you have ever heard of. There were tall trees in it, and open meadows where the grass was as smooth as on a lawn, and clear, murmuring brooks ran through the woods. And there were dense thickets filled with the perfume of flowers, and the flowers grew in such profusion, and there were so many different kinds, each more beautiful than the rest, that it was a perfect feast for the eyes to look at them. It was so warm that the children never needed to go in-doors, but at night they would just lie down at the foot of some great tree and look at the stars twinkling through the branches until they fell asleep. And when it rained they would find shelter in some beautiful cavern, spreading leaves and moss upon the ground for a bed. The garden where they lived was called Paradise. And there were ever so many animals in it--all kinds of animals--elephants, and tigers, and leopards, and giraffes, and camels, and sheep, and horses, and cows; but even the wild animals did them no harm. But the children were not alone in that garden: their Father lived with them. And every morning when they woke up their first thought was to go to him and to look up into his mild, kind face for a loving glance, and every evening before they went to sleep he would bend over them. And once, as they lay under the great tree, looking at a star shining through the branches, Adam said to Eve: "Our Father's eye shines just like that star." One day their Father said to them: "My children, there is one tree in this beautiful garden the fruit of which you must not eat, because it is hurtful to you. You can not understand why, but you know that you must obey your Father even when you do not understand. He loves you and knows best what is for your good." So they promised, and for a time remembered. But one day it happened that Eve was passing near the tree of the fruit of which she knew she must not eat, when what should she hear but a snake talking to her. She did not see it, but she heard its voice quite distinctly. And this is what the snake said: "You poor Eve! you must certainly have a hard time. Your Father is always forbidding you something. How stern he is! I am sure that other children can have all the fruit they want." Eve was frightened at first. She knew that her Father was kind and good, and that the snake was telling a falsehood. He did not always forbid things. But still he had forbidden her to eat of the fruit, and she thought that was a little hard; and she could not understand at all why he had done so. Then the snake spoke again: "Listen, Eve! He forbade you to eat only of it. It can do no harm just to look at it. Go up to it. See how it glistens among the branches! How golden it looks!" And the snake kept on whispering: "How good it must be to the taste! Just take one bite of it. Nobody sees you. Only one bite; that can do no harm." And Eve glanced around, and saw that no one was looking, and presently with a hasty movement she seized the fruit and ate of it. Then she said to herself: "Adam, too, must eat of it. I can never bear to eat it alone." So she ran hastily up to Adam, and said: "See, I have some of the forbidden fruit, and you, too, must eat." And he, too, looked at it and was tempted, and ate. But that evening they were very much afraid. They knew they had done wrong, and their consciences troubled them. So they hurried away into the wood where it was deepest, and hid themselves in the bushes. But soon they heard their Father calling to them; and it was strange, their Father's voice had never sounded so sad before. And in a few moments he found them where they were hiding. And he said to them: "Why do you hide from me?" And they were very much confused, and stammered forth all sorts of excuses. But he said: "Come hither, children." And he looked into their eyes, and said: "Have you eaten of the fruit of which I told you not to eat?" And Adam, who was thoughtless and somewhat selfish, spoke up, and said: "Yes, but it was Eve who gave me of it; she led me on." And Eve hung her head, and said: "It was the snake that made me eat." Now the snake, you know, was no real snake at all; she never saw it, she only heard its voice. And, you know, when we want to do anything wicked, there is within every one of us something bad, that seems to whisper: "Just look! Mere looking will do no harm"; and then: "Just taste; no one sees you." So the snake was the bad feeling in Eve's heart. And their Father took them by the hand, and said: "Tomorrow, when it is dawn, you will have to leave this place. In this beautiful Paradise no one can stay who has once disobeyed. You, Adam, must learn to labor; and, you, Eve, to be patient and self-denying for others. And, perhaps, after a long, long time, some day, you will come back with me into Paradise again." It is a free rendering, I admit. I have filled in the details so as to bring it down to the level of children's minds, but the outlines, I think, are there. The points I have developed are all suggested in the Bible. The temptation begins when the snake says with characteristic exaggeration: "Is it true that of _all_ the fruit you are forbidden to eat?" Exaggerating the hardships of the moral command is the first step on the downward road. The second step is Eve's approach to look at the fruit--"and she saw that it was good for food, and pleasant to the eyes." The third step is the actual enjoyment of what is forbidden. The fourth step is the desire for companionship in guilt, so characteristic of sin--"and she gave also unto her husband with her, and he did eat." The next passage describes the working of conscience, the fear, the shame, the desire to hide, and then comes the moral verdict: You are guilty, both of you. You have lost your paradise. Try to win it back by labor and suffering. NOTE.--I would add to what has been said in the text, that the pupils are expected to return to the study of the Bible, to read and re-read these stories, and to receive a progressively higher interpretation of their meaning as they grow older. If in the above I have spoken in a general way of a Father and his two children, it will be easy for the Sunday-school teacher to add later on that the Father in the story was God. _Cain and Abel._ In teaching the story of the two brothers Cain and Abel the following points should be noted. The ancients believed that earthly prosperity and well-being depended on the favor of God, or the gods, and that the favor of the gods could be secured by sacrifice. If any one brought a sacrifice and yet prosperity did not set in, this was supposed to be a sign that his sacrifice had not been accepted. On the other hand, to say of any person that his sacrifice had been accepted, was tantamount to saying that he was happy and prosperous. Applying this to the story of Cain and Abel, we may omit all mention of the bringing of the sacrifices, which presents a great and needless difficulty to children's minds, and simply make the equivalent statement that Abel was prosperous and Cain was not. Again, Cain is not represented as an intentional murderer. The true interpretation of the story depends on our bearing this in mind. It is erroneous to suppose that a brand was fixed on Cain's forehead. The passage in question, correctly understood, means that God gave Cain a sign to reassure him that he should not be regarded by men as a common murderer. With these prefatory remarks the story may be told somewhat as follows: Long ago there lived two brothers. The name of the elder was Cain, and of the younger Abel. Cain was a farmer. He toiled in the sweat of his brow, tilling the stubborn ground, taking out stones, building fences. Winter and summer he was up before the sun, and yet, despite all his labor, things did not go well with him. His crops often failed through no fault of his. He never seemed to have an easy time. Moreover, Cain was of a proud disposition. Honest he was, and truthful, but taciturn, not caring much to talk to people whom he met, but rather keeping to himself. Abel, on the other hand, was a shepherd. He led, or seemed to lead, the most delightfully easy life. He followed his flocks from one pasture to another, watching them graze; and at noon he would often lie down in the shade of some leafy tree and play on his flute by the hour. He was a skillful musician, a bright, talkative companion, and universally popular. He was a little selfish too, as happy people sometimes are. He liked to talk about his successes, and, in a perfectly innocent way, which yet stung Cain to the quick, he would rattle on to his brother about the increase of his herds, about his plans and prospects, and the pleasant things that people were saying of him. Cain grew jealous of his brother Abel. He did not like to confess it to himself, but yet it was a fact. He kept comparing his own life of grinding toil with the easy, lazy life of the shepherd--it was not quite so lazy, but so it seemed to Cain--his own poverty with the other's wealth, his own loneliness with Abel's popularity. And a frown would often gather on his brow, and he grew more and more moody and silent. He knew that he was not in the right state of mind. There was a voice within him that said: "Sin is at thy door, but thou canst become master over it." Sin is like a wild beast crouching outside the door of the heart. Open the door ever so little, and it will force its way in, and will have you in its power. Keep the door shut, therefore; do not let the first evil thought enter into your heart. Thus only can you remain master of yourself. But Cain was already too far gone to heed the warning voice. One day he and Abel were walking together in the fields. Abel, no doubt, was chatting in his usual gay and thoughtless manner. The world was full of sunshine to him; and he did not realize in the least what dark shadows were gathering about his brother's soul. Perhaps the conversation ran somewhat as follows: He had just had an addition to his herd, the finest calf one could imagine: would not Cain come to admire it? And then, to-morrow evening he was to play for the dancers on the green, at the village feast: would not Cain join in the merry-making? When the solitary, embittered Cain heard such talk as this the angry feeling in his heart rose up like a flood. Overmastered by his passion, with a few wild, incoherent words of rage he turned upon his brother and struck him one fierce blow. Ah, that was a relief! The pent-up feeling had found vent at last. The braggart had received the chastisement he deserved! And Cain walked on; and for a time continued to enjoy his satisfaction. He had just noticed that Abel, when struck, had staggered and fallen, but he did not mind that. "Let him lie there for a while; he will pick himself up presently. He may be lame for a few days, and his milk-white face may not be so fair at the feast, but that will be all the better for him. It will teach him a lesson." Nevertheless, when he had walked on for some distance he began to feel uneasy. He looked around from time to time to see whether Abel was following him, and the voice of conscience began to be heard, saying, "Cain, where is thy brother?" But he silenced it by saying to himself, "Am I my brother's keeper? Is he such a child that he can not take care of himself--that he can not stand a blow?" But he kept looking back more and more often, and when he saw no one coming, he came at last to a dead halt. His heart was beating violently by this time; the beads of perspiration were gathered on his brow. He turned back to seek his missing brother. Then, as he did not meet him, he began to run, and faster and faster he ran, until at last, panting and out of breath, with a horrible fear hounding him on, he arrived at the place where he had struck the blow. And there he saw--a pool of blood, and the waxen face of his brother, and the glazed, broken eyes! And then he realized what he had done. And it is this situation which the Bible has in view in the words, "Behold, thy brother's blood cries up from the earth against thee." And then as he surveyed his deed in stony despair, he said to himself, "I am accursed from the face of the earth"--I am unworthy to live. The earth has no resting-place for such as I. But a sign was given him to show him that his life would not be required of him. He had not committed willful murder. He had simply given the reins to his violent passion. He must go into another land, where no one knew him, there through years of penance to try to regain his peace of soul. The moral of the story is: Do not harbor evil thoughts in the mind. If you have once given them entrance, the acts to which they lead are beyond your control. Cain's sin consisted in not crushing the feeling of envy in the beginning; in comparing his own lot with that of his more favored brother and dwelling on this comparison, until, in a fit of insane passion, he was led on to the unspeakable crime which, indeed, he had never contemplated, to which he had never given an inward assent. The story also illustrates the vain subterfuges with which we still seek to smother the consciousness of guilt after we have done wrong, until the time comes when our eyes are opened and we are compelled to face the consequences of our deeds and to realize them in all their bearings. The story of Cain and Abel is thus a further development of the theme already treated in simpler fashion in the story of Adam and Eve, only that, while in the latter case the filial duty of obedience to parents is in the foreground, attention is here directed to the duty which a brother owes to a brother. It is a striking tale, striking in the vividness with which it conjures up the circumstances before our minds and the clearness with which the principal motives are delineated; and it contains an awful warning for all time. The question here presents itself, whether we should arrange the biblical stories according to subjects--e. g., grouping together all those which treat of duty to parents, all those which deal with the relations of brothers to brothers, etc.--or whether we should adopt the chronological arrangement. On the whole, I am in favor of the latter. It is expected that the pupils, as they grow older, will undertake a more comprehensive study of the Bible, and for this they will be better prepared if they have been kept to the chronological order from the outset. Another more practical reason is, that children tire of one subject if it is kept before their minds too long. It is better, therefore, to arrange the stories in groups or cycles, each of which will afford opportunity to touch on a variety of moral topics. It will be impossible to continue to relate _in extenso_ the stories which I have selected, and I shall therefore content myself in the main with giving the points of each story upon which the teacher may lay stress. _The Story of Noah and his Sons._ Describe the beauty of the vine, and of the purple grapes hanging in clusters amid the green leaves. How sweet is this fruit to the taste! But the juice of it has a dangerous property. Once there lived a man, Noah, who had three sons. He planted a vine, plucked the grapes, but did not know the dangerous property of the juice. The second son, on seeing his father in a state of intoxication, allowed his sense of the ridiculous to overcome his feeling of reverence. But the eldest and the youngest sons acted differently. They took a garment, covered their father with it, and averted their faces so as not to see his disgrace. The moral is quite important. An intelligent child can not help detecting a fault now and then even in the best of parents. But the right course for him to take is to throw the mantle over the fault, and to turn away his face. He should say to himself: Am I the one to judge my parents--I who have been the recipient of so many benefits at their hands, and who see in them so many virtues, so much superior wisdom? By such reasoning the feeling of reverence is even deepened. The momentary superiority which the child feels serves only to bring out his general inferiority. _The Abraham Cycle._ There is a whole series of stories belonging to this group, illustrating in turn the virtues of brotherly harmony, generosity toward the weak, hospitality toward strangers, and maternal love. Abraham and Lot are near kinsmen. Their servants quarrel, and to avoid strife the former advises a separation. "If thou wilt go to the left," he says, "I will turn to the right; if thou preferrest the land to the right, I will take the left." Abraham, being the older, was entitled to the first choice, but he waived his claim. Lot chose the fairer portion, and Abraham willingly assented. "Let there be no strife between us, for we be brethren." The lesson is, that the older and wiser of two brothers or kinsmen may well yield a part of his rights for harmony's sake. Abraham's conduct toward the King of Sodom is an instance of generosity. The story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah may be introduced by describing the Dead Sea and the surrounding scene of desolation. The moral lies in the circumstance that ill treatment of strangers brought down the doom. Hospitality toward strangers is one of the shining virtues of the Old Testament heroes. Even at the present day strangers are still despised and ridiculed by the vulgar, their foreign manners, language, and habits seeming contemptible; the lesson of hospitality is not yet superfluous. The story of _Hagar and her Child_ I should recast in such a way as to exclude what in it is repellent, and retain the touching picture of maternal affection. I should relate it somewhat as follows: There was once a little lad whose name was Ishmael. He had lost his father and had only his mother to cling to. She was a tall, beautiful lady, with dark eyes which were often very sad, but they would light up, and there was always a sweet smile on her lips whenever she looked at her darling boy. Ishmael and his mother, Hagar, had never been separated; they were all in all to each other. One day it happened that they walked away from their home, which was near the great, sandy desert. Ishmael's mother was in deep distress, there was something troubling her, and every now and then a tear would steal down her cheeks. Ishmael was sad, too, because his mother was, but he did not dare to ask her what it was that grieved her, fearing to give her pain. So they walked on and on, holding each other's hands in silence. But at last they saw that they had lost their way; and they tried first one direction, and then another, thinking that it would bring them back toward home, but they only got deeper and deeper into the vast, lonely desert. And the sun burned hot and hotter above their heads, and little Ishmael, who had tried to keep up like a brave lad, at last became so parched with thirst, and so faint with want of food, and so tired with walking--for they had wandered about for many, many hours--that he could go on no farther. Then his mother took him up in her arms and laid him under a bush, where there was a little shade. And then, oh then, how her poor heart was wrung, and how she wept to see her darling in such suffering, and how she cried for help! Then she sat down on the glaring sand at some distance away, and turned her face in the direction opposite to where Ishmael was lying; for she said, "I can not bear to see my boy die." But just as she had given up all hope, suddenly she saw a noble-looking man, wearing the dress of the Bedouins, approach her. He had come from behind one of the sand hills, and it seemed to her as if he had come down straight from the sky. He asked her why she was in such grief, and when she told him, and pointed to her little son, he said: "It is fortunate that you have come to this place. There is a beautiful oasis close by." An oasis, children, is a spot of fruitful green earth right in the midst of the desert, like an island in the ocean. And the man took the boy up and carried him in his arms, and Hagar followed after him. And presently, when they came to the oasis, they found a cool, clear spring, full of the most delicious water, and palm-trees with ever so many dates on them, and all the people who lived there gathered around them. And the man who had been so kind proved to be the chief. And he took charge of Ishmael's education, showed him how to shoot with the bow and how to hunt, and was like a real father to him. And when Ishmael grew up he became a great chief of the Bedouins. But he always remained true to his mother, and loved her with all his heart. I am strongly in favor of omitting the story of the _Sacrifice of Isaac_. I do not think we can afford to tell young children that a father was prepared to draw the knife against his own son, even though he desisted in the end. I should not be willing to inform a child that so horrible an impulse could have been entertained even for a moment in a parent's heart. I regard the story, indeed, as, from an historical point of view, one of the most valuable in the Bible; it has a deep meaning; but it is not food fit for children. A great mistake has been made all along in supposing that whatever is true in religion must be communicated to children; and that if anything be very true and very important we ought to hasten to give it to children as early as possible; but there must be preparatory training. And the greatest truths are often of such a kind as only the mature mind, ripe in thought and experience, is fitted to assimilate. One of the most charming idyls of patriarchal times is the story of _Rebecca at the Well_. It illustrates positively, as the story of Sodom does negatively, the duty of hospitality toward strangers. "Drink, lord, and I will give thy camels drink also," is a pleasant phrase which is apt to stick in the memory. Moreover, the story shows the high place which the trusted servant occupied in the household of his master, and offers to the teacher an opportunity of dwelling on the respect due to faithful servants. _The Jacob Cycle._ What treatment shall Jacob receive at our hands, he, the sly trickster, who cheats his brother of his birthright and steals a father's blessing? Yet he is one of the patriarchs, and is accorded the honorable title of "champion of God." To hold him up to the admiration of the young is impossible. To gloss over his faults and try to explain them away were a sorry business, and honesty forbids. The Bible itself gives us the right clew. His faults are nowhere disguised. He is represented as a person who makes a bad start in life--a very bad start, indeed--but who pays the penalty of his wrong-doing. His is a story of penitential discipline. In telling the story, all reference to the duplicity of Rebecca should be omitted, for the same reason that malicious step-mothers and cruel fathers have been excluded from the fairy tales. The points to be discussed may be summarized as follows: _Taking advantage of a brother in distress._--Jacob purchases the birthright for a mess of pottage. _Tender attachment to a helpless old father._--Esau goes out hunting to supply a special delicacy for his father's table. This is a point which children will appreciate. Unable to confer material benefits on their parents, they can only show their love by slight attentions. _Deceit._--Jacob simulates the appearance of his older brother and steals the blessing. In this connection it will be necessary to say that a special power was supposed to attach to a father's blessing, and that the words once spoken were deemed irrevocable. _Jacob's penitential discipline begins._--The deceiver is deceived, and made to feel in his own person the pain and disappointment which deceit causes. He is repeatedly cheated by his master Laban, especially in the matter which is nearest to him, his love for Rachel. _The forgiveness of injuries._--Esau's magnanimous conduct toward his brother. _The evil consequences of tale-bearing and conceit._--It is a significant fact that Joseph is not a mere coxcomb. He is a man of genius, as his later career proves, and the stirrings of his genius manifest themselves in his early dreams of future greatness. Persons of this description are not always pleasant companions, especially in their youth. They have not yet accomplished anything to warrant distinction, and yet they feel within themselves the presentiment of a destiny and of achievements above the ordinary. Their faults, their arrogance, their seemingly preposterous claims, are not to be excused, but neither is the envy they excite excusable. One of the hardest things to learn is to recognize without envy the superiority of a brother. _Moral cowardice._--Reuben is guilty of moral cowardice. He was an opportunist, who sought to accomplish his ends by diplomacy. If he, as the oldest brother, had used his authority and boldly denounced the contemplated crime, he might have averted the long train of miseries that followed. _Strength and depth of paternal love._--"Joseph is no more: an evil beast has devoured him. I will go mourning for my son Joseph into the grave." It is a piece of poetic justice that Jacob, who deceived his father in the matter of the blessing by covering himself with the skin of a kid, is himself deceived by the blood of a kid of the goats with which the coat of Joseph had been stained. In speaking of the temptation of Joseph in the house of Potiphar, it is enough to say that the wife conspired against her husband, and endeavored to induce Joseph to betray his master. A pretty addition to the story is to be found in the Talmud, to the effect that Joseph saw in imagination the face of his father before him in the moment of temptation, and was thereby strengthened to resist. _The light of a superior mind can not be hidden even in a prison._--Joseph wins the favor of his fellow-prisoners, and an opportunity is thus opened to him to exercise his talents on the largest scale. _Affliction chastens._--The famine had in the mean time spread to Palestine. The shadow of the grief for Joseph still lay heavily on the household of the patriarch. Joseph is lost; shall Benjamin, too, perish? It is pleasant to observe that the character of the brothers in the mean time has been changed for the better. There is evidently a lurking sense of guilt and a desire to atone for it in the manner in which Judah pledges himself for the safety of the youngest child. And the same marked change is visible in the conduct of all the brothers on the journey. The stratagem of the cup was cunningly devised to test their feelings. They might have escaped by throwing the blame on Benjamin. Instead of that, they dread nothing so much as that he may have to suffer, and are willing to sacrifice everything to save him. When this new spirit has become thoroughly apparent, the end to which the whole group of Jacob stories pointed all along is reached; the work of moral regeneration is complete. Jacob himself has been purified by affliction, and the brothers and Joseph have been developed by the same hard taskmaster into true men. The scene of recognition which follows, when the great vice-regent orders his attendants from the apartment and embraces those who once attempted his life, with the words, "I am Joseph, your brother: does my father still live?" is touching in the extreme, and the whole ends happily in a blaze of royal pomp, like a true Eastern tale. A word as to the _method_ which should be used in teaching these stories. If the fairy tale holds the moral element in solution, if the fable drills the pupil in distinguishing one moral trait at a time, the biblical stories exhibit a combination of moral qualities, or, more precisely, the interaction of moral causes and effects; and it is important for the teacher to give expression to this difference in the manner in which he handles the stories. Thus, in the fables we have simply one trait, like ingratitude, and its immediate consequences. The snake bites the countryman, and is cast out; there the matter ends. In the story of Joseph we have, first, the partiality of the father, which produces or encourages self-conceit in the son; Joseph's conceit produces envy in the brothers. This envy reacts on all concerned--on Joseph, who in consequence is sold into slavery; on the father, who is plunged into inconsolable grief; on the brothers, who nearly become murderers. The servitude of Joseph destroys his conceit and develops his nobler nature. Industry, fidelity, and sagacity raise him to high power. The sight of the constant affliction of their father on account of Joseph's loss mellows the heart of the brothers, etc. It is this interweaving of moral causes and effects that gives to the stories their peculiar value. They are true moral pictures; and, like the pictures used in ordinary object lessons, they serve to train the power of observation. Trained observation, however, is the indispensable preliminary of correct moral judgment. _The Moses Cycle._ The figures of the patriarchs and the prophets appeal to us with a fresh interest the moment we regard them as human beings like ourselves, who were tempted as we are, who struggled as we are bound to do, and who acted, howsoever the divine economy might supervene, on their own responsibility. Looked at from this point of view, the figure of Moses, the Liberator, approaches our sympathies at the same time that he towers in imposing proportions above our level. Let us briefly review his career. Like Arminius at a later day, he is educated at the court of the enemies of his people. In dress, in manners, in speech, he doubtless resembles the grandees of Pharaoh's court. When he approaches the well in Midian, the daughter of Jethro exclaims, "Behold, an Egyptian is coming!" But at heart he remains a Hebrew, and is deeply touched by the cruel sufferings of his race. His first public intervention on their behalf takes place when he strikes down and kills a native overseer whom he detects in the act of maltreating a Hebrew slave. This is characteristic of the manner in which reformers begin. They direct their first efforts against the particular consequences of some great general wrong. Later on they perceive the uselessness of such a procedure and take heart to attack the evil at its source. Moses flees into the desert. The lonely life he leads there is necessary to the development of his ideas. Solitude is essential to the growth of genius. The burning bush is the outward symbol of an inward fact. The fire which can not be quenched is in his own breast, and out of that inward burning he hears more and more distinctly the voice which bids him go back and free his people. But when he considers the means at his disposal, when in fancy he sees his people, a miserable horde of slaves, pitted against the armed hosts of Pharaoh, he is ready to despair; until he hears the comforting voice, which says, "The Eternal is with thee; the unchangeable power of right is on thy side: it will prevail!" Like Jeremiah, like Isaiah, like all great reformers, Moses is profoundly imbued with the sense of his unfitness for the task laid upon him. He pleads that he is heavy of speech. He can only stammer forth the message of freedom. But he is reassured by the thought that a brother will be found, that helpers will arise, that the thought which he can barely formulate will be translated by other lesser men into a form suitable for the popular understanding. He returns to Egypt to find that the greatest obstacle in his way is the lethargy and unbelief of the very people whom he wishes to help. This again is a typical feature of his career. The greatest trials of the reformer are due not to the open enmity of the oppressor, but to the meanness, the distrust and jealousy, of those whom oppression has degraded. At last, however, the miracle of salvation is wrought, the weak prevail over the mighty, the cause of justice triumphs against all apparent odds to the contrary. The slaves rise against their masters, the flower of Egyptian chivalry is destroyed. Pharaoh rallies his army and sets out in pursuit. But the Hebrews, under Moses's guidance, have gained the start, and escape into the wilderness in safety. Freedom is a precious opportunity--no more. Its value depends on the use to which it is put. And therefore, no sooner was the act of liberation accomplished, than the great leader turned to the task of positive legislation, the task of developing a higher moral life among his people. But here a new and keener disappointment awaited him. When he descended from the mount, the glow of inspiration still upon his face, the tablets of the law in his hand, he saw the people dancing about the golden calf. It is at this moment that Michel Angelo, deeply realizing the human element in the biblical story, has represented the form of the liberator in the colossal figure which was destined for Pope Julius's tomb. "The right foot is slightly advanced; the long beard trembles with the emotion which quivers through the whole frame; the eyes flash indignant wrath; the right hand grasps the tablets of the law; in another moment, we see it plainly, he will leap from his sitting posture and shatter the work which he has made upon the rocks." This trait, too, is typical. Many a leader of a noble cause has felt, in moments of deep disappointment, as if he could shatter the whole work of his life. Many a man, in like situation, has said to himself: The people are willing enough to hail the message of the higher law to-day, but to-morrow they sink back into their dull, degraded condition, as if the vision from the mount had never been reported to them. Let me, then, leave them to their dreary ways, to dance about their golden calf. But a better and stronger mood prevailed in Moses. He ascended once more to the summit, and there prostrated himself in utter self-renunciation and self-effacement. He asked nothing for himself, only that the people whom he loved might be benefited ever so little, be raised ever so slowly above their low condition. And again the questioning spirit came upon him, and he said, as many another has said: The paths of progress are dark and twisted; the course of history seems so often to be in the wrong direction. How can I be sure that there is such a thing as eternal truth--that the right will prevail in the end? And then there came to him that grand revelation, the greatest, as I think, and the most sublime in the Old Testament, when the eternal voice answered his doubt, and said: "Thou wouldst know my ways, but canst not. No living being can see my face; only from the rearward canst thou know me." As a ship sails through the waters and leaves its wake behind, so the divine Power passes through the world and leaves behind the traces by which it can be known. And what are those traces? Justice and mercy. Cherish, therefore, the divine element in thine own nature, and thou wilt see it reflected in the world about thee. Wouldst thou be sure that there is such a thing as a divine Power? be thyself just and merciful. And so Moses descended again to his people, and became exceeding charitable in spirit. The Bible says: "The man Moses was exceeding humble; there was no one more humble than he on the face of the earth." He bore with resignation their complaints, their murmurings, their alternate cowardice and foolhardiness. He was made to feel, like many another in his place, that his foes were they of his own household. He had an only brother and an only sister. His brother and sister rose up against him. His kinsmen, too, revolted from him. He endured all their weakness, all their follies; he sought to lift them by slow degrees to the height of his own aims. He set the paths of life and death before them, and told them that the divine word can not be found by crossing the seas or by searching the heavens, but must be found in the human heart; and if men find it not there they will find it nowhere else. And so, at last, his pilgrimage drew to a close. He had reached the confines of Palestine. Once more he sought the mountain-top, and there beheld the promised land stretching far away--the land which his eyes were to see but which he was never to enter. Few great reformers, indeed few men who have started a great movement in history, and have been the means of producing deep and permanent changes in the ideas and institutions of society, have lived to see those changes consummated. The course of evolution is slow, and the reformer can hope at best to see the promised land from afar--as in a dream. Happy he if, like Moses, he retains the force of his convictions unabated, if his spiritual sight remains undimmed, if the splendid vision which attended him in the beginning inspires and consoles him to the end. The narrative which has thus been sketched touches on some of the weightiest problems of human existence, and deals with motives both complex and lofty. I have entered into the interpretation of these motives for the purpose of showing that they are too complex and too lofty to be within the comprehension of children, and that it is an error, though unfortunately a common one, to attempt to use the grand career of a reformer and liberator as a text for the moral edification of the very young. They are wholly unprepared to understand, and that which is not understood, if forced on the attention, awakens repugnance and disgust. Few of those who have been compelled to study the life of Moses in their childhood have ever succeeded in conquering this repugnance, or have drawn from it, even in later life, the inspiration and instruction which it might otherwise have afforded them. For our primary course, however, we can extract a few points interesting even to children, thus making them familiar with the name of Moses, and preparing the way for a deeper interest later on. The incidents of the story which I should select are these: The child Moses exposed on the Nile; the good sister watching over his safety; the kind princess adopting him as her son; the sympathy manifested by him for his enslaved brethren despite his exemption from their misfortunes. The killing of the Egyptian should be represented as a crime, palliated but not excused by the cruelty of the overseer. Special stress may be laid upon the chivalric conduct of Moses toward the young girls at the well of Midian. The teacher may then go on to say that Moses, having succeeded in freeing his people from the power of the Egyptian king, became their chief, that many wise laws are ascribed to him, etc. The story of the spies, and of the end of Moses, may also be briefly told. The mention of the laws of Moses leads me to offer a suggestion. I have remarked above that children should be taught to observe moral pictures before any attempt is made to deduce moral principles; but certain _simple rules_ should be given even to the very young--must, indeed, be given them for their guidance. Now, in the legislation ascribed to Moses we find a number of rules fit for children, and a collection of these rules might be made for the use of schools. They should be committed to memory by the pupils, and perhaps occasionally recited in chorus. I have in mind such rules as these:[12] 1. Ye shall not lie. (Many persons who pay attention only to the Decalogue, and forget the legislation of which it forms a part, seem not to be aware that there is in the Pentateuch [Lev. xix, 11] a distinct commandment against lying.) 2. Ye shall not deceive one another. 3. Ye shall take no bribe. 4. Honor thy father and thy mother. 5. Every one shall reverence his mother and his father. (Note that the father is placed first in the one passage and the mother first in the other, to indicate the equal title of both to their children's reverence.) 6. Thou shalt not speak disrespectfully of those in authority. 7. Before the hoary head thou shalt rise and pay honor to the aged. 10. Thou shalt not spread false reports. 11. Thou shalt not go about as a tale-bearer among thy fellows. 12. Thou shalt not hate thy neighbor in thy heart, but shalt warn him of his evil-doing. 13. Thou shalt not bear a grudge against any, but thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. 8. Thou shalt not speak evil of the deaf (thinking that he can not hear thee), nor put an obstacle in the way of the blind. 9. If there be among you a poor man, thou shalt not harden thy heart, nor shut thy hand from thy poor brother, but thou shalt open thy hand wide unto him, and shalt surely lend him sufficient for his need. 14. If thou seest the property of thine enemy threatened with destruction, thou shalt do thy utmost to save it. 15. If thou findest what is not thine own, and the owner is not known to thee, guard it carefully, that thou mayest restore it to its rightful owner. 16. Thou shalt not do evil because many others are doing the same evil. Bearing grudges, lying, mocking those who (like the deaf and blind) are afflicted with personal defects, appropriating what is found without attempting to discover the owner, seeking to excuse wrong on the plea that many others are guilty of it--all these are forms of moral evil with which children are perfectly familiar, and against which they need to be warned. It is more than strange that such commandments as the sixth and eighth of the Decalogue (the commandment against murder and against adultery, forsooth), which are inapplicable to little children, should be made so much of in primary moral instruction, while those other commandments which do come home to them are often overlooked. The theory here expounded, that moral teaching should keep pace with the experience and intelligence of the child, should save us from such mistakes. To proceed with the stories, the book of Joshua offers nothing that we can turn to account, nor do the stories of Jael, Deborah, and Gideon contain moral lessons fit for the young. Sour milk is not proper food for children, nor do those stories afford the proper moral food in which, so to speak, the milk of human kindness has turned sour. The labors of Samson, the Hebrew Hercules, are likewise unfit to be used at this stage, at least for the purpose of moral instruction. The story of the daughter of Jephtha, the Hebrew Iphigenia, is exquisitely pathetic, but it involves the horrible idea of human sacrifice, and therefore had better be omitted. The acts and speeches of Samuel mark an epoch in the history of the Hebrew religion, and are of profound interest to the scholar. But there are certain features, such as the killing of Agag, which would have to be eliminated in any case; then the theological and moral elements are so blended that it would be difficult if not impossible to separate them; and altogether the character of this mighty ancient seer, this Hebrew Warwick, this king-maker and enemy of kings, is above the comprehension of primary scholars. We shall therefore omit the whole intervening period, and pass at once from the Moses cycle to _The David Cycle._ The first story of this group is that of _Naomi and Ruth_, the ancestress of David. Upon the matchless beauty of this tale it is unnecessary to expatiate. I wish to remark, however, in passing that it illustrates as well as any other--better perhaps than any other--the peculiar art of the biblical narrative to which we have referred above. If any one at the present day were asked to decide whether a woman placed in Ruth's situation would act rightly in leaving her home and following an aged mother-in-law to a distant country, how many pros and cons would he have to weigh before he would be able to say yes or no? Are her own parents still living, and are they so situated that she is justified in leaving them? Are there other blood relations who have a prior claim on her? Has she raised expectations at home which she ought not to disappoint, or undertaken duties which ought not to be set aside in deference to a sentiment no matter how noble? Of all such side issues and complications of duty which would render a decision like hers difficult in modern times, the story as we have it before us is cleared. All minor traits are suppressed. It is assumed that she has a right to go if she pleases, and the mind is left free to dwell, unimpeded by any counter-considerations, upon the beauty of her choice. This choice derives its excellence from the fact that it was perfectly free. There was no tie of consanguinity between Naomi and her. The two women were related in such a way that the bond might either be drawn more tightly or severed without blame. Orpah, too, pitied her mother-in-law. She wept, but she returned to her home. We can not, on that account, condemn her. It was not her bounden duty to go. Ruth, on the other hand, might perhaps have satisfied her more sensitive conscience by accompanying her mother-in-law as far as Bethlehem, and then returning to Moab. But she preferred instead exile and the hardships of a life among strangers. Not being a daughter, she freely took upon herself the duties of a daughter; and it is this that constitutes the singular merit of her action. In telling the story it is best to follow the original as closely as possible. "Entreat me not to leave thee, nor to desist from following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people: where thou diest will I die and there will I be buried." Where in universal literature shall we find words more eloquent of tender devotion than these? It will be noticed that I have left out the phrase "and thy God shall be my God" for two reasons. No matter how much we may love another person, religious convictions ought to be held sacred. We have no right to give up our convictions even for affection's sake. Moreover, the words correctly understood are really nothing but an amplification of what has preceded. The language of Ruth refers throughout to the proposed change of country. "Whither thou goest, I will go; where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy folk shall be my folk; where thou diest, I will die." And the phrase "Thy God shall be my God" has the same meaning. The ancients believed that every country has its God, and to say "Thy God shall be my God" was tantamount to saying "Thy country shall be my country." It is better, therefore, to omit these words. Were we to retain them, the impression might be created that Ruth contemplated a change of religion merely to please the aged Naomi, and such a step from a moral point of view would be unwarrantable. It was this Gentile woman Ruth who became the ancestress of the royal house of David. The story of _David's life_ is replete with dramatic interest. It may be arranged in a series of pictures. First picture: David and Goliath--i. e., skill pitted against brute strength, or the deserved punishment of a bully. Every boy takes comfort in this story. Second picture: David and Jonathan, their arms twined about each other's neck, a beautiful example of youthful friendship. Especially should the unselfishness of Jonathan be noted. He, the Hebrew crown prince, so far from being jealous of his rival, recognized the superior qualities of the latter and served him with the most generous fidelity. Third picture: David the harper, playing before the gloomy, moody king, whom an evil spirit has possessed. It should be noted how difficult is the task incumbent upon Jonathan of combining his duty to his father and his affection for his friend. Yet he fails in neither. Fourth picture: David's loyalty manifest. He has the monarch in his power in the camp, in the cave, and proves that there is no evil intention in his mind. The words of Saul are very touching, "Is it thy voice I hear, my son David?" Fifth picture: the battle, the tragical end of Saul and Jonathan. The dirge of David floats above the field: "The beauty of Israel is slain upon the high places. How are the mighty fallen!" etc. A second series of pictures now begins. David is crowned king, first by his clansmen, then by the united tribes. David, while besieging Bethlehem, is athirst and there is no water. Three of his soldiers cut their way to the well near the gate, which is guarded by the enemy, and bring back a cup of water. He refuses it, saying: "It is not water, but the blood of the men who have risked their lives for me." Omitting the story of Bathsheba, we come next to the rebellion of Absalom. The incidents of this rebellion may be depicted as follows: First, Absalom in his radiant beauty at the feast of the sheep-shearer. Next, Absalom at the gate playing the demagogue, secretly inciting the people to revolt. Next, David ascending Mount Olivet weeping, the base Shimei, going along a parallel ridge, flinging stones at the king and reviling him. David remarks: "If my own son seek my life, how shall I be angry with this Benjamite?" Next, the death of Absalom in the wood. Finally, David at the gate receiving the news of Absalom's death, and breaking forth into the piercing cry: "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee! O Absalom, my son, my son!" It is the story of a rebellious and undutiful child, and illustrates by contrast the unfathomable depth of a father's love, of a love that yearns even over the wicked, over the lost. The points of the stories included in the David cycle are: skill and courage triumphant over brute strength, unselfish friendship, loyalty, a leader's generosity toward his followers, and parental love. The arrangement of the words in the lament of David for his son deserves to be specially noted. It corresponds to and vividly describes the rhythmic movements of the emotions excited by great sorrow. From the life of Solomon we select only the judgment, related in I Kings, iii. We may compare with it a similar story, showing, however, interesting variations, in the Jataka tales. With this our selections from the Old Testament narrative come to an end. The ideal types are exhausted, and the figures which now appear upon the scene stand before us in the dry light of history. From the New Testament we select for the primary course the story of the Good Samaritan, as illustrative of true charity. Selected passages from the Sermon on the Mount may also be explained and committed to memory. The Beatitudes, however, and the parables lie outside our present limits, presupposing as they do a depth of spiritual experience which is lacking in children. NOTE.--It should be remembered that the above selections have been made with a view to their being included in a course of unsectarian moral instruction. Such a course must not express the religious tenets of any sect or denomination. Much that has here been omitted, however, can be taught in the Sunday schools, the existence of which alongside of the daily schools is, as I have said, presupposed in these lectures. I have simply tried to cull the moral meaning of the stories, leaving, as I believe, the way open for divergent religious interpretations of the same stories. But I realize that the religious teacher may claim the Bible wholly for his own, and may not be willing to share even a part of its treasure with the moral teacher. If this be so, then these selections from the Bible, for the present, at all events, will have to be omitted. They can, nevertheless, be used by judicious parents, and some if not all of the suggestions they contain may prove acceptable to teachers of Sunday schools. FOOTNOTES: [11] In his Introduction to Homer. [12] I have taken the liberty of altering the language here and there, for reasons that will be obvious in each case. X THE ODYSSEY AND THE ILIAD. As we leave the field of biblical literature and turn to the classic epic of Greece, a new scene spreads out before us, new forms and faces crowd around us, we breathe a different atmosphere. The poems of Homer among the Greeks occupied a place in many respects similar to that of the Bible among the Hebrews. At Athens there was a special ordinance that the Homeric poems should be recited once every fourth year at the great Panathenaic festival. On this occasion the rhapsode, standing on an elevated platform, arrayed in rich robes, with a golden wreath about his head, addressed an audience of many thousands. The poems were made the subject of mystical, allegorical, and rationalistic interpretation, precisely as was the case with the text of the Bible. As late as the first century of our era, the first book placed in the hands of children, the book from which they learned to read and write, was Homer. Xenophon in the Symposium has one of the guests say: "My father, anxious that I should become a good man, made me learn all the poems of Homer, and now I could repeat the whole Iliad and Odyssey by heart."[13] We shall not go quite to the same length as Xenophon. We should hardly think it sufficient in order to make a good man of a boy to place Homer in his hands. But we do believe that the knowledge of the Homeric poems, introduced at the right time and in the right way, will contribute to such a result. Let us, however, examine more closely in what the value of these poems consists. Ulysses is the hero of the Odyssey, Achilles of the Iliad. Ulysses is pre-eminently the type of resourceful intelligence, Achilles of valor. In what way will these types appeal to our pupils? As the boy develops beyond the early period of childhood, there shows itself in him a spirit of adventure. This has been noticed by all careful educators. Now, there is a marked difference between the spirit of adventure and the spirit of play. Play consists in the free exercise of our faculties. Its characteristic mark is the absence of taxing effort. The child is said to be at play when it frolics in the grass, when it leaps or runs a race, or when it imitates the doings of its elders. As soon, however, as the exertion required in carrying on a game becomes appreciable, the game is converted into a task and loses its charm. The spirit of adventure, on the contrary, is called forth by obstacles; it delights in the prospect of difficulties to be overcome; it is the sign of a fresh and apparently boundless energy, which has not yet been taught its limitations by the rough contact with realities. The spirit of adventure begins to develop in children when the home life no longer entirely contents them, when they wish to be freed from the constraint of dependence on others, when it seems to them as if the whole world lay open to them and they could dare and do almost anything. It is at this time that children love to read tales of travel, and especially tales of the sea, of shipwreck, and hair-breadth escapes, of monsters slain by dauntless heroes, of rescue and victory, no matter how improbable or impossible the means. Now success in such adventures depends largely on courage. And it is good for children to have examples even of physical courage set before them, provided it be not brutal. The craven heart ought to be despised. Mere good intentions ought not to count. Unless one has the resolute will, the fearless soul, that can face difficulties and danger without flinching, he will never be able to do a man's work in the world. This lesson should be imprinted early. A second prerequisite of success is presence of mind, or what has been called above resourceful intelligence. And this quality is closely allied with the former. Presence of mind is the result of bravery. The mind will act even in perilous situations if it be not paralyzed by fear. It is fear that causes the wheels of thought to stop. If one can only keep off the clog of fear, the mind will go on revolving and often find a way of escape where there seemed none. Be not a coward, be brave and clear-headed in the midst of peril--these are lessons the force of which is appreciated by the growing pupil. The Iliad and Odyssey teach them on every page. Bravery and presence of mind, it is true, are commonly regarded as worldly, rather than as, in the strict sense, moral qualities. However that may be--and I, for one, am inclined to rank true courage and true presence of mind among the highest manifestations of the moral nature--these qualities when they show themselves in the young soon exert a favorable influence on the whole character, and serve especially to transform the attitude of the child toward its parents. Hitherto the young child has been content to be the mere recipient of favors; as soon as the new consciousness of strength, the new sense of independence and manliness has developed, the son begins to feel that he would like to give to his parents as well as to receive from them; to be of use to his father, and to confer benefits, as far as he is able, in the shape of substantial services. These remarks will find their application in the analysis of the Odyssey, which we shall presently attempt. The Odyssey is a tale of the sea. Ulysses is the type of sagacity, as well as of bravery, his mind teems with inventions. In the boy Telemachus we behold a son struggling to cut loose from his mother's leading-strings, and laudably ambitious to be of use to his parents. In the Odyssey we gain a distinct advance upon the moral results obtained from the study of the biblical stories. In the Bible it is chiefly the love of parents for their children which is dwelt upon, in the Odyssey the devotion of children to their parents; and this, of course, marks a later stage. In the Odyssey, too, the conjugal relation comes into the foreground. In the Bible, the love of the husband for his wife is repeatedly touched upon. But the love of the wife for the husband is not equally emphasized, and the relations between the two do not receive particular attention. The joint authority of both parents over their children is the predominant fact, the delicate bonds of feeling which subsist between the parents themselves are not in view. And this again corresponds to the earlier stage of childhood. The young child perceives the joint love which father and mother bear toward it, and feels the joint authority which they exercise over it. But as the child grows up, its eyes are opened to perceive more clearly the love which the parents bear to one another, and its affection for both is fed and the desire to serve them is strengthened by this new insight. Thus it is in the Odyssey. The yearning of Ulysses for his wife, the fidelity of Penelope during twenty years of separation, are the leading theme of the narrative, and the effect of this love upon their son is apparent throughout the poem. Let us now consider the ethical elements of the Odyssey in some detail, arranging them under separate heads. 1. _Conjugal affection._ Ulysses has been for seven years a prisoner in the cave of Calypso. The nymph of the golden hair offers him the gift of immortality if he will consent to be her husband, but he is proof against her blandishments, and asks for nothing but to be dismissed, so that he may see his dear home and hold his own true wife once more in his arms. "Apart upon the shore He sat and sorrowed. And oft in tears And sighs and vain repinings passed the hours, Gazing with wet eyes on the barren deep."[14] I would remark that, as the poem is too long to be read through entirely, and as there are passages in it which should be omitted, it is advisable for the teacher to narrate the story, quoting, however, such passages as give point to the narrative or have a special beauty of their own. Read the description of Calypso's cave v, 73, ff. Penelope meantime is patiently awaiting her husband's return. Read the passages which describe her great beauty, especially that lovely word-picture in which she is described as standing by a tall column in the hall, a maid on either side, a veil hiding her lustrous face, while she addresses the suitors. The noblest princes of Ithaca and the surrounding isles entreat her hand in marriage, and, thinking that Ulysses will never return, hold high revels in his house, and shamelessly consume his wealth. Read the passage ii, 116-160, describing Penelope's device to put off the suitors, and at the same time to avert the danger which would have threatened her son in case she had openly broken with the chiefs. The love of Penelope is further set vividly before us by many delicate touches. Every stranger who arrives in Ithaca is hospitably entertained by the queen, and loaded with gifts, in the hope that he may bring her some news of her absent lord, and often she is deceived by wretches who speculate on her credulous grief. See the passage xiv, 155. During the day she is busy with her household cares, overseeing her maids, and seeking to divert her mind by busy occupation; but at night the silence and the solitude become intolerable, and she weeps her eyes out on her lonely couch. How the love of Penelope influences her boy, who was a mere babe when his father left for Troy, how the whole atmosphere of the house is charged with the sense of expectancy of the master's return, is shown in the passage ii, 439, where Telemachus says: "Nurse, let sweet wine be drawn into my jars, The finest next to that which thou dost keep, Expecting our unhappy lord, if yet The nobly born Ulysses shall escape The doom of death and come to us again." The best cheer, the finest wine, the best of everything is kept ready against the father's home-coming, which may be looked for any day, if haply he has escaped the doom of death. There is one passage in which we might suspect that the poet has intended to show the hardening effect of grief on Penelope's character, xv, 479. Penelope does not speak to her old servants any more; she passes them by without a word, apparently without seeing them. She does not attend to their wants as she used to do, and they, in turn, do not dare to address her. But we may forgive this seeming indifference inasmuch as it only shows how completely she is absorbed by her sorrow. A companion picture to the love of Ulysses and Penelope is to be found in the conjugal relation of Alcinous, king of Phæacia, and his wife Arete, as described in the sixth book and the following. This whole episode is incomparably beautiful. Was there ever a more perfect embodiment of girlish grace and modesty, coupled with sweetest frankness, than Nausicaa? And what a series of lovely pictures is made to pass in quick succession before our eyes as we read the story! First, Nausicaa, moved by the desire to prepare her wedding garments against her unknown lover's coming, not ashamed to acknowledge the motive to her own pure heart, but veiling it discreetly before her mother; then the band of maidens setting out upon their picnic party, Nausicaa holding the reins; next the washing of the garments, the bath, the game of ball, the sudden appearance of Ulysses, the flight of her companions, the brave girl being left to keep her place alone, with a courage born of pity for the stranger, and of virtuous womanhood. "Alone The daughter of Alcinous kept her place, For Pallas gave her courage and forbade Her limb to tremble. So she waited there." Who that has inhaled the fragrance of her presence from these pages can ever forget the white-armed Nausicaa! Then follows the picture of the palace, a feast for the imagination, the most magnificent description, I think, in the whole poem. "For on every side beneath The lofty roof of that magnanimous king A glory shone as of the summer moons." Read from l. 100-128, book vii. Next we witness the splendid hospitality proffered to the stranger guest. For again and again in this poem the noble sentiment is repeated, that the stranger and the poor are sent from Jove. Then we see Ulysses engaged in the games, outdoing the rest, or standing aside and watching "the twinkle of the dancer's feet." The language, too, used on these occasions is strikingly noble, so courteous and well-chosen, so simple and dignified, conveying rich meanings in the fewest possible words. What can be finer, e. g., than Nausicaa's farewell to Ulysses? "Now, when the maids Had seen him bathed, and had anointed him With oil, and put his sumptuous mantle on, And tunic, forth he issued from the bath, And came to those who sat before their wine. Nausicaa, goddess-like in beauty, stood Beside a pillar of that noble roof, And, looking on Ulysses as he passed, Admired, and said to him in winged words-- 'Stranger, farewell, and in thy native land Remember thou hast owed thy life to me.'" Nausicaa, it is evident, loves Ulysses; she stands beside a pillar, a favorite attitude for beautiful women with Homer, and as Ulysses passes, she addresses to him those few words so fraught with tenderness and renunciation. Ulysses's own speech to Arete, too, is a model of simplicity and dignity, possessing, it seems to me, something of the same quality which we admire in the speeches of Othello. But throughout this narrative, pre-eminent above all the other figures in it is the figure of the queen herself, of Arete. Such a daughter as Nausicaa could only come from such a mother. To her Ulysses is advised to address his supplication. She is the wise matron, the peace-maker who composes the angry feuds of the men. And she possesses the whole heart and devotion of her husband. "Her Alcinous made his wife And honored her as nowhere else on earth Is any woman honored who bears charge Over a husband's household. From their hearts Her children pay her reverence, and the king And all the people, for they look on her As if she were a goddess. When she goes Abroad into the streets, all welcome her With acclamations. Never does she fail In wise discernment, but decides disputes Kindly and justly between man and man. And if thou gain her favor there is hope That thou mayst see thy friends once more." We have then as illustrations of conjugal fidelity: the main picture, Ulysses and Penelope; the companion picture, Alcinous and Arete; and, as a foil to set off both, there looms up every now and then in the course of the poem, that unhappy pair, Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, the latter, the type of conjugal infidelity, from which the soul of Homer revolts. This foil is very skillfully used. At the very end of the poem, when everything is hastening toward a happy consummation, Ulysses having slain the suitors and being about to be reunited with his wife, we are introduced into the world of shades, where the ghost of Agamemnon once more rehearses the story of Clytemnestra's treachery. At that moment the spirits of the suitors come flying down to Hades, and the happier destiny of Ulysses is thus brought into clearer relief by contrast. The next ethical element of which I have to speak is the _filial conduct_ of Telemachus. In him the spirit of adventure has developed into a desire to help his father. In the early part of the poem he announces that he is now a child no longer. He begins to assert authority. And yet in his home he continues to be treated as a child. The suitors laugh at him, his own mother can not bear to think that he should go out into the wide world alone, and the news of his departure is accordingly concealed from her. Very fine are the words in which her mother's love expresses itself when she discovers his absence: "And her knees failed her and her heart Sank as she heard. Long time she could not speak; Her eyes were filled with tears, and her clear voice Was choked; yet, finding words at length, she said: 'O herald! wherefore should my son have gone?' "... Now, my son, My best beloved, goes to sea--a boy Unused to hardship and unskilled to deal With strangers. More I sorrow for his sake Than for his father's. I am filled with fear." She lies outstretched upon the floor of her chamber overcome with grief (iv, 910). Telemachus, however, has gone forth in search of his sire. He finds a friend in Pisistratus, the son of Nestor, and the two youths join company on the journey. They come to the court of Menelaus, King of Sparta. There, as everywhere, Telemachus hears men speak of his great father in terms of the highest admiration and praise, and the desire mounts in his soul to do deeds worthy of such a parent. What better stimulation can we offer to growing children than this recital of Telemachus's development from boyhood into manhood? His reception at the court of Menelaus affords an opportunity to dwell again upon the generous and delicate hospitality of the ancient Greeks. First, the guest is received at the gates; then conducted to the bath and anointed; then, when he is seated on a silver or perchance a golden throne, a handmaiden advances with a silver ewer and a golden jug to pour water on his hands; then a noble banquet is set out for his delectation; and only then, after all these rites of hospitality have been completed, is inquiry made as to his name and his errand. "The stranger and the poor are sent from Jove." The stranger and the poor were welcome in the Grecian house. Telemachus returns to Ithaca, escapes the ambush which the murderous suitors had set for him, and arrives just in time to help his father in his last desperate struggle. It is he, Telemachus, who conveys the weapons from the hall, he who pinions the treacherous Melantheus and renders him harmless. He quits himself like a man--discreet, able to keep his counsel, and brave and quick in the moment of decisive action. The third element which attracts our attention is the resourceful intelligence of Ulysses, or his _presence of mind_ amid danger. This is exhibited on many occasions; for instance, in the cave of Polyphemus; where he saves his companions by concealing them in the fleece of the giant's flock, and at the time of the great shipwreck, before he reaches Phæacia. His raft is shattered, and he is plunged into the sea. He clings to one of the fragments of the wreck, but from this too is dislodged. For two days and nights he struggles in the black, stormy waters. At last he approaches the shore, but is nearly dashed to pieces on the rocks. He swims again out to sea, until, finding himself opposite the mouth of a river, he strikes out for this and lands in safety. Pallas Athene has guided him. But Pallas Athene is only another name for his own courage and presence of mind. In the same connection may be related the story of Ulysses's escape from the Sirens and from the twin perils of Scylla and Charybdis. The Sirens, with their bewitching songs, seek to lure him and his companions to destruction. But he stops the ears of his companions with wax so that they can not hear, and causes himself to be bound with stout cords to the mast, so that, though he may hear, he can not follow. There is an obvious lesson contained in this allegory. When about to be exposed to temptation, if you know that you are weak, do not even listen to the seductive voices. But no matter how strong you believe yourself to be, at least give such pledges and place yourself in such conditions that you may be prevented from yielding. From the monster Charybdis, too, Ulysses escapes by extraordinary presence of mind and courage. He leaps upward to catch the fig-tree in the moment when his ship disappears beneath him in the whirlpool; then, when it is cast up again, lets go his hold and is swept out into safe waters. The fourth ethical element which we select from the poem is the _veneration shown to grandparents_. I have already remarked, in a former lecture, that if parents wish to retain the reverence of their children they can not do better than in their turn to show themselves reverent toward their own aged and enfeebled parents. Of such conduct the Odyssey offers us a number of choice examples. Thus Achilles, meeting Ulysses in the realm of shades, says that the hardest part of his lot is to think of his poor old father, who has no one now to defend him, and who, being weak, is likely to be neglected and despised. If only he, the strong son, could return to the light of day, how he would protect his aged parent and insure him the respect due to his gray hairs! Penelope is advised to send to Laertes, Telemachus's grandfather, to secure his aid against the suitors. But with delicate consideration she keeps the bad news from him, saying: "He has enough grief to bear on account of the loss of his son Ulysses; let me not add to his burden." Again, how beautiful is the account of the meeting of Laertes and Ulysses after the return and triumph of the latter. On the farm, at some distance from the town, Ulysses seeks his aged father. Laertes is busy digging. He, a king, wears a peasant's rustic garb and lives a life of austere self-denial, grieving night and day for his absent son. When Ulysses mentions his name, Laertes at first does not believe. Then the hero approaches the bent and decrepit old man, and becomes for the moment a child again. He brings up recollections of his earliest boyhood; he reminds his father of the garden-patch which he set aside for him long, long ago; of the trees and vines which he gave him to plant; and then the father realizes that the mighty man before him is indeed his son. The structural lines of the Odyssey are clearly marked, and can easily be followed. First, we are shown the house of Ulysses bereft of its master. The noisy crowd of suitors are carousing in the hall; the despairing Penelope weaves her web in an upper chamber; the resolve to do and dare for his father's sake awakens in Telemachus's heart. Next Ulysses on the way home, dismissed by Calypso, arrives at Phæacia, from which port without further misadventures he reaches Ithaca. The stay in the palace of the Phæacian king gives an opportunity for a rehearsal of the previous sufferings and adventures of the hero. Then follow the preparations for the conflict with the suitors; the appearance of Ulysses in his own palace in the guise of a beggar; the insults and blows which he receives at the hands of his rivals and their menials; the bloody fight, etc. In relating the story I should follow the course of the poem, laying stress upon the ethical elements enumerated above. The fight which took place in the palace halls with closed doors should be merely mentioned, its bloody details omitted. The hanging of the maidens, the trick of Vulcan related in a previous book, and other minor episodes, which the teacher will distinguish without difficulty, should likewise be passed over. The recognition scenes are managed with wonderful skill. The successive recognitions seem to take place inversely in the order of previous connection and intimacy with Ulysses. The son, who was a mere babe when his father left and did not know him at all, recognizes him first. This, moreover, is necessary in order that his aid may be secured for the coming struggle. Next comes Argus, the dog. "While over Argus the black night of death Came suddenly as he had seen Ulysses, absent now for twenty years." Next comes the nurse Eurycleia, who recognizes him by a scar inflicted by the white tusk of a boar whom he hunted on Parnassus's heights; then his faithful followers; last of all, and slowly and with difficulty, the wife who had so yearned for him. Her impetuous son could not understand her tardiness. Vehemently he chid her: "Mother, unfeeling mother, how canst thou remain aloof, how keep from taking at my father's side thy place to talk with him and question him? Mother, thy heart is harder than a stone." But she only sat opposite to Ulysses and gazed and gazed and wondered. Ulysses himself, at last, in despair at her impenetrable silence, exclaimed, "An iron heart is hers." But it was only that she could not believe. It seemed so incredible to her that the long waiting should be over; that the desire of her heart should really be fulfilled; that this man before her should be indeed the husband, the long-lost husband, and not a mocking dream. But when at last it dawned upon her, when he gave her the token of the mystery known only to him and to her, then indeed the ice of incredulity melted from her heart, and her knees faltered and the tears streamed from her eyes, "and she rose and ran to him and flung her arm about his neck and kissed his brow, and he, too, wept as in his arms he held his dearly loved and faithful wife." "As welcome as the land to those who swim the deep, tossed by the billow and the blast, and few are those who from the hoary ocean reach the shore, their limbs all crested with the brine, these gladly climb the sea-beach and are safe--so welcome was her husband to her eyes, nor would her fair white arms release his neck." And so with the words uttered by the shade of Agamemnon we may fitly close this retrospect of the poem: "Son of Laertes, fortunate and wise, Ulysses! thou by feats of eminent might And valor dost possess thy wife again. And nobly minded is thy blameless queen, The daughter of Icarius, faithfully Remembering him to whom she gave her troth While yet a virgin. Never shall the fame Of his great valor perish, and the gods Themselves shall frame, for those who dwell on earth, Sweet strains in praise of sage Penelope." Well might the rhapsodes in the olden days, clad in embroidered robes, with golden wreaths about their brows, recite such verses as these to the assembled thousands and ten thousands. Well might the Hellenic race treasure these records of filial loyalty, of maiden purity, of wifely tenderness and fidelity, of bravery, and of intelligence. And well may we, too, desire that this golden stream flowing down to us from ancient Greece shall enter the current of our children's lives to broaden and enrich them. I have not space at my command to attempt a minute analysis of the Iliad, and shall content myself with mentioning the main significant points. The Iliad is full of the noises of war, the hurtling of arrows, the flashing of swords, the sounding of spears on metal shields, the groans of the dying, "whose eyes black darkness covers." The chief virtues illustrated are valor, hospitality, conjugal affection, respect for the aged. I offer the following suggestions to the teacher. After describing the wrath of Achilles, relate the meeting of Diomedes and Glaucus, their hostile encounter, and their magnanimous embrace on discovering that they are great friends. Read the beautiful passage beginning with the words, "Even as the generations of leaves, such are those likewise of men." Dwell on the parting of Hector and Andromache. Note that she has lost her father, her lady mother, and her seven brothers. Hector is to her father, mother, brother, and husband, all in one. Note also Hector's prayer for his son that the latter may excel him in bravery. As illustrative of friendship, tell the story of Achilles's grief for Patroclus, how he lies prone upon the ground, strewing his head with dust; how he follows the body lamenting; how he declares that though the dead forget their dead in Hades, even there he would not forget his dear comrade. Next tell of the slaying of Hector, and how Achilles honors the suppliant Priam and restores to him the body of his son. It is the memory of his own aged father, which the sight of Priam recalls, that melts Achilles's heart, and they weep together, each for his own dead. Finally, note the tribute paid to Hector's delicate chivalry in the lament of Helen.[15] FOOTNOTES: [13] See Jebb's Introduction to Homer. [14] The quotations are taken from Bryant's translation of the Odyssey. [15] In connection with the Homeric poems selections from Greek mythology may be used, such as the story of Hercules, of Theseus, of Perseus, the story of the Argonauts, and others. These, too, breathe the spirit of adventure and illustrate the virtues of courage, perseverance amid difficulties, chivalry, etc. GRAMMAR COURSE. LESSONS ON DUTY. XI. THE DUTY OF ACQUIRING KNOWLEDGE. In setting out on a new path it is well to determine beforehand the goal we hope to reach. We are about to begin the discussion of the grammar course, which is intended for children between twelve and fifteen years of age, and accordingly ask: What result can we expect to attain? One thing is certain, we must continue to grade our teaching, to adapt each successive step to the capacities of the pupils, to keep pace with their mental development. The due gradation of moral teaching is all-important. Whether the gradations we propose are correct is, of course, a matter for discussion; but, at all events, a point will be gained if we shall have brought home forcibly to teachers the necessity of a graded, of a progressive system. In the primary course we have set before the pupils examples of good and bad conduct, with a view to training their powers of moral perception. We are now ready to advance from percepts to concepts. We have endeavored to cultivate the faculty of observation, we can now attempt the higher task of generalization. In the primary course we have tried to make the pupils perceive moral distinctions; in the grammar course we shall try to make them reason about moral distinctions, help them to gain notions of duty, to arrive at principles or maxims of good conduct. The grammar course, therefore, will consist in the main of lessons on duty. What has just been said, however, requires further explanation to prevent misapprehension. I have remarked that the pupil is now to reach out toward concepts of duty, and to establish for himself maxims or principles of conduct. But of what nature shall these maxims be? The philosopher Kant has proposed the following maxim: "So act that the maxim underlying thy action may justify itself to thy mind as a universal law of conduct." According to him, the note of universality is the distinctive characteristic of all ethical conduct. The school of Bentham proposes a different maxim: "So act that the result of thy action shall tend to insure the greatest happiness of the greatest number." Theologians tell us so to act that our will may harmonize with the will of God. But pupils of the grammar grade are not ripe to understand such metaphysical and theological propositions. And, moreover, as was pointed out in our first lecture, it would be a grave injustice to teach in schools supported by all ethical first principles which are accepted only by some. We are not concerned with first principles. We exclude the discussion of them, be they philosophical or theological, from the school. But there are certain secondary principles, certain more concrete rules of behavior, which nevertheless possess the character of generalizations, and these will suffice for our purpose. And with respect to these there is really no difference of opinion among the different schools and sects, and on them as a foundation we can build. It is our business to discover such secondary principles, and in our instruction to lead the pupil to the recognition of them. The nature of the formulas of duty which we have in mind--formulas which shall express the generalized moral experience of civilized mankind, will appear more plainly if we examine the processes by which we arrive at them. An example will best elucidate: Suppose that I am asked to give a lesson on the duty of truthfulness. At the stage which we have now reached it will not be enough merely to emphasize the general commandment against lying. The general commandment leaves in the pupil's mind a multitude of doubts unsolved. Shall I always tell the truth--that is to say, the whole truth, as I know it, and to everybody? Is it never right to withhold the truth, or even to say what is the contrary of true, as, e. g., to the sick or insane. Such questions as these are constantly being asked. What is needed is a rule of veracity which shall leave the general principle of truth-speaking unshaken, and shall yet cover all these exceptional cases. How to arrive at such a rule? I should go about it in the following manner, and the method here described is the one which is intended to be followed throughout the entire course of lessons on duty. I should begin by presenting a concrete case. A certain child had broken a precious vase. When asked whether it had done so, it answered, "No." How do you characterize such a statement? As a falsehood. The active participation of the pupils in the discussion is essential. Properly questioned, they will join in it heart and soul. There must be constant give and take between teacher and class. Upon the fulfillment of this condition the value of this sort of teaching entirely depends. The teacher then proceeds to analyze the instance above given, or any other that he may select from those which the pupils offer him. The child says no when it should have said yes, or a person says black when he should have said white. In what does the falsehood of such statements consist? In the circumstance that the words spoken do not correspond to the facts. Shall we then formulate the rule of veracity as follows: Make thy words correspond to the facts; and shall we infer that any one whose words do not correspond to the facts is a liar? But clearly this is not so. The class is asked to give instances tending to prove the insufficiency of the proposed formula. Before the days of Copernicus it was generally asserted that the sun revolves around the earth. Should we be justified in setting down the many excellent persons who made such statements as liars? Yet their words did not correspond to the facts. Very true; but they did not intend to deviate from the facts--they did not know better. Shall we then change the formula so as to read: Intend that thy words shall conform to the facts? But the phrase "correspond to the facts" needs to be made more explicit. Cases occur in which a statement does correspond to the facts, or, at least, seems to do so, and yet a contemptible falsehood is implied. The instance of the truant boy is in point who entered the school-building five minutes before the close of the exercises, and on being asked at home whether he had been at school, promptly answered "Yes"; and so he had been for five minutes. But in this case the boy suppressed a part of the facts--and, moreover, the essential part--namely, that he had been absent from school for five hours and fifty-five minutes. Cases of mental reservation and the like fall under the same condemnation. The person who took an oath in court, using the words, "As truly as I stand on this stone," but who had previously filled his shoes with earth, suppressed the essential fact--viz., that he had filled his shoes with earth. Shall we then formulate the rule in this wise: Intend to make thy words correspond to the essential facts? But even this will not entirely satisfy. For there are cases, surely, in which we deliberately frame our words in such a way that they shall not correspond to the essential facts--for instance, if we should meet a murderer who should ask us in which direction his intended victim had fled, or in the case of an insane person intent on suicide, or of the sick in extreme danger, whom the communication of bad news would kill. How can we justify such a procedure? We can justify it on the ground that language as a means of communication is intended to further the rational purposes of human life, and not conversely are the rational purposes of life to be sacrificed to any merely formal principle of truth-telling. A person who, like the murderer, is about to use the fact conveyed to him by my words as a weapon with which to kill a fellow-being has no right to be put in possession of the fact. An insane person, who can not use the truthful communications of others except for irrational ends, is also outside the pale of those to whom such tools can properly be intrusted. And so are the sick, when so enfeebled that the shock of grief would destroy them. For the rational use of grief is to provoke in us a moral reaction, to rouse in us the strength to bear our heavy burdens, and, in bearing, to learn invaluable moral lessons. But those who are physically too weak to rally from the first shock of grief are unable to secure this result, and they must therefore be classed, for the time being, as persons not in a condition to make rational use of the facts of life. It is not from pain and suffering that we are permitted to shield them. Pain and suffering we must be willing both to endure and also to inflict upon those whom we love best, if necessary. Reason can and should triumph over pain. But when the reasoning faculty is impaired, or when the body is too weak to respond to the call of reason, the obligation of truth-_telling_ ceases. I am not unaware that this is a dangerous doctrine to teach. I should always take the greatest pains to impress upon my pupils that the irrational condition, which alone justifies the withholding of the truth, must be so obvious that there can be no mistake about it, as in the case of the murderer who, with knife in hand, pursues his victim, or of the insane, or of the sick, in regard to whom the physician positively declares that the shock of bad news would endanger life. But I do think that we are bound to face these exceptional cases, and to discuss them with our pupils. For the latter know as well as we that in certain exceptional situations the best men do not tell the truth, that in such situations no one tells the truth, except he be a moral fanatic. And unless these exceptional cases are clearly marked off and explained and justified, the general authority of truth will be shaken, or at least the obligation of veracity will become very much confused in the pupil's mind. In my opinion, the confusion which does exist on this subject is largely due to a failure to distinguish between inward truthfulness and truthfulness as reflected in speech. The law of inward truthfulness tolerates no exceptions. We should always, and as far as possible, be absolutely truthful, in our thinking, in our estimates, in our judgments. But language is a mere vehicle for the communication of thoughts and facts to others, and in communicating thoughts and facts we _are_ bound to consider in how far others are fit to receive them. Shall we then formulate the rule of veracity thus: Intend to communicate the essential facts to those who are capable of making a rational use of them. I think that some such formula as this might answer. I am not disposed to stickle for this particular phraseology. But the formula as stated illustrates my thought, and also the method by which the formulas, which we shall have to teach in the grammar course are to be reached. It is the inductive method. First a concrete case is presented, and a rule of conduct is hypothetically suggested, which fits this particular case. Then other cases are adduced. It is discovered that the rule as it stands thus far does not fit them. It must therefore be modified, expanded. Then, in succession, other and more complex cases, to which the rule may possibly apply are brought forward, until every case we can think of has been examined; and when the rule is brought into such shape that it fits them all, we have a genuine moral maxim, a safe rule for practical guidance, and the principle involved in the rule is one of those secondary principles in respect to which men of every sect and school can agree. It needs hardly to be pointed out how much a casuistical discussion of this sort tends to stimulate interest in moral problems, and to quicken the moral judgment. I can say, from an experience of over a dozen years, that pupils between twelve and fifteen years of age are immensely interested in such discussions, and are capable of making the subtilest distinctions. Indeed, the directness with which they pronounce their verdict on fine questions of right and wrong often has in it something almost startling to older persons, whose contact with the world has reconciled them to a somewhat less exacting standard. But here a caution is necessary. Some children seem to be too fond of casuistry. They take an intellectual pleasure in drawing fine distinctions, and questions of conscience are apt to become to them mere matter of mental gymnastics. Such a tendency must be sternly repressed whenever it shows itself. In fact, reasoning about moral principles is always attended with a certain peril. After all, the actual morality of the world depends largely on the moral habits which mankind have formed in the course of many ages, and which are transmitted from generation to generation. Now a habit acts a good deal like an instinct. Its force depends upon what has been called unconscious cerebration. As soon as we stop to reason about our habits, their hold on us is weakened, we hesitate, we become uncertain, the interference of the mind acts like a brake. It is for this reason that throughout the primary course, we have confined ourselves to what the Germans call _Anschauung_, the close observation of examples with a view of provoking imitation or repugnance, and thus strengthening the force of habit. Why, then, introduce analysis now, it may be asked. Why not be content with still further confirming the force of good habits? My answer is that the force of habit must be conserved and still further strengthened, but that analysis, too, becomes necessary at this stage. And why? Because habits are always specialized. A person governed by habits falls into a certain routine, and moves along easily and safely as long as the conditions repeat themselves to which his habits are adjusted. But when confronted by a totally new set of conditions, he is often quite lost and helpless. Just as a person who is solely guided by common sense in the ordinary affairs of life, is apt to be stranded when compelled to face circumstances for which his previous experience affords no precedent. It is necessary, therefore, to extract from the moral habits the latent rules of conduct which underlie them, and to state these in a general form which the mind can grasp and retain, and which it will be able to apply to new conditions as they arise. To this end analysis and the formulation of rules are indispensable. But in order, at the same time, not to break the force of habit, the teacher should proceed in the following manner: He should always take the moral habit for granted. He should never give his pupils to understand that he and they are about to examine whether, for instance, it is wrong or not wrong to lie. The commandment against lying is assumed, and its obligation acknowledged at the outset. The only object of the analysis is to discern more exactly what is meant by lying, to define the rule of veracity with greater precision and circumspectness, so that we may be enabled to fulfill the commandment more perfectly. It is implied in what I have said that the teacher should not treat of moral problems as if he were dealing with problems in arithmetic. The best thing he can do for his pupils--better than any particular lesson he can teach--will be to communicate to them the spirit of moral earnestness. And this spirit he can not communicate unless he be full of it himself. The teacher should consecrate himself to his task; he should be penetrated by a sense of the lofty character of the subject which he teaches. Even a certain attention to externals is not superfluous. The lessons, in the case of the younger children, may be accompanied by song; the room in which the classes meet may be hung with appropriate pictures, and especially is it desirable that the faces of great and good men and women shall look down upon the pupils from the walls. The instruction should be given by word of mouth; for the right text-books do not yet exist, and even the best books must always act as a bar to check that flow of moral influence which should come from the teacher to quicken the class. To make sure that the pupils understand what they have been taught, they should be required from time to time to reproduce the subject matter of the lessons in their own language, and using their own illustrations, in the form of essays. And now, after this general introduction, let us take up the lessons on the duties in their proper order. What is the proper order? This question, you will remember, was discussed in the lecture on the classification of duties. It was there stated that the life of man from childhood upward, may be divided into periods, that each period has its special duties, and that there is in each some one central duty around which the others may be grouped. During the school age the paramount duty of the pupil is to study. We shall therefore begin with the duties which are connected with the pursuit of knowledge. We shall then take up the duties which relate to the physical life and the feelings; next, the duties which arise in the family; after that the duties which we owe to all men; and lastly we will consider in an elementary way the civic duties. _The Duty of acquiring Knowledge._--In starting the discussion of any particular set of duties, it is advisable, as has been said, to present some concrete case, and biographical or historical examples are particularly useful. I have sometimes begun the lesson on the duty of acquiring knowledge by telling the story of Cleanthes and that of Hillel. Cleanthes, a poor boy, was anxious to attend the school of Zeno. But he was compelled to work for his bread, and could not spend his days in study as he longed to do. He was, however, so eager to learn that he found a way of doing his work by night. He helped a gardener to water his plants, and also engaged to grind corn on a hand-mill for a certain woman. Now the neighbors, who knew that he was poor, and who never saw him go to work, were puzzled to think how he obtained the means to live. They suspected him of stealing, and he was called before the Judge to explain. The Judge addressed him severely, and commanded him to tell the truth. Cleanthes requested that the gardener and the woman might be sent for, and they testified that he had been in the habit of working for them by night. The Judge was touched by his great zeal for knowledge, acquitted him of the charge, and offered him a gift of money. But Zeno would not permit him to take the gift. Cleanthes became the best pupil of Zeno, and grew up to be a very wise and learned man, indeed one of the most famous philosophers of the Stoic school. The story of Hillel runs as follows: There was once a poor lad named Hillel. His parents were dead, and he had neither relatives nor friends. He was anxious to go to school, but, though he worked hard, he did not earn enough to pay the tuition fee exacted at the door. So he decided to save money by spending only half his earnings for food. He ate little, and that little was of poor quality, but he was perfectly happy, because with what he laid aside he could now pay the door-keeper and find a place inside, where he might listen and learn. This he did for some time, but one day he was so unlucky as to lose his situation. He had now no money left to buy bread, but he hardly thought of that, so much was he grieved at the thought that he should never get back to his beloved school. He begged the door-keeper to let him in, but the surly man refused to do so. In his despair a happy thought occurred to him. He had noticed a skylight on the roof. He climbed up to this, and to his delight found that through a crack he could hear all that was said inside. So he sat there and listened, and did not notice that evening was coming on, and that the snow was beginning to fall. Next morning when the teachers and pupils assembled as usual, every one remarked how dark the room seemed. The sun too was shining again by this time quite brightly outside. Suddenly some one happened to look up and with an exclamation of surprise pointed out the figure of a boy against the skylight. Quickly they all ran outside, climbed to the roof, and there, covered with snow, quite stiff and almost dead, they found poor Hillel. They carried him indoors, warmed his cold limbs, and worked hard to restore him to life. He was at last resuscitated, and from this time on was allowed to attend the school without paying. Later he became a great teacher. He lived in Palestine at about the time of Jesus. He was admired for his learning, but even more for his good deeds and his unfailing kindness to every one. The question is now raised, Why did Cleanthes work at night instead of seeking rest, and why did Hillel remain outside in the bitter cold and snow? The pupils will readily answer, Because they loved knowledge. But why is knowledge so desirable? With this interrogatory we are fairly launched on the discussion of our subject. The points to be developed are these: First, knowledge is indispensable as a means of making one's way in the world. Show the helplessness of the ignorant. Compare the skilled laborer with the unskilled. Give instances of merchants, statesmen, etc., whose success was due to steady application and superior knowledge. Knowledge is power (namely, in the struggle for existence). Secondly, knowledge is honor. An ignorant person is despised. Knowledge wins us the esteem of our fellow-men. Thirdly, knowledge is joy in a twofold sense. As the perception of light to the eye of the body, so is the perception of truth to the eye of the mind. The mind experiences an intrinsic pleasure in seeing things in their true relations. Furthermore, mental growth is accompanied by the joy of successful effort. This can be explained even to a boy or girl of thirteen. Have you ever tried hard to solve a problem in algebra? Perhaps you have spent several hours over it. It has baffled you. At last, after repeated trials, you see your way clear, the solution is within your grasp. What a sense of satisfaction you experience then. It is the feeling of successful mental effort that gives you this satisfaction. You rejoice in having triumphed over difficulties, and the greater the difficulty, the more baffling and complex the problems, the greater is the satisfaction in solving them. Fourthly, knowledge enables us to do good to others. Speak of the use which physicians make of their scientific training to alleviate suffering and save life. Refer to the manifold applications of science which have changed the face of modern society, and have contributed so largely to the moral progress of the world. Point out that all true philanthropy, every great social reform, implies a superior grasp of the problems to be solved, as well as devotion to the cause of humanity. In accordance with the line of argument just sketched the rule for the pursuit of knowledge may be successively expanded as follows: Seek knowledge that you may succeed in the struggle for existence. Seek knowledge that you may gain the esteem of your fellow-men. Seek knowledge for the sake of the satisfaction which the attainment of it will give you. Seek knowledge that you may be able to do good to others. These points suffice for the present. In the advanced course we shall return to the consideration of the intellectual duties. I would also recommend that the moral teacher, not content with dwelling on the uses of knowledge in general, should go through the list of subjects which are commonly taught in school, such as geography, history, language, etc., and explain the value of each. This is too commonly neglected. Having stationed the duty of acquiring knowledge in the center, connect with it the various lesser duties of school life, such as punctual attendance, order, diligent and conscientious preparation of home lessons, etc. These are means to an end, and should be represented as such. He who desires the end will desire the means. Get your pupils to love knowledge, and the practice of these minor virtues will follow of itself. Other matters might be introduced in connection with what has been mentioned, but enough has been said to indicate the point of view from which the whole subject of intellectual duty should, as I think, be treated in the present course. XII. DUTIES WHICH RELATE TO THE PHYSICAL LIFE. Of the duties which relate to the physical life, the principal one is that of self-preservation, and this involves the prohibition of suicide. When one reflects on the abject life which many persons are forced to lead, on their poverty in the things which make existence desirable and the lack of moral stamina which often goes together with such conditions, the wonder is that the number of suicides is not much greater than it actually is. It is true most people cling to life instinctively, and have an instinctive horror of death. Nevertheless, the force of instinct is by no means a sufficient deterrent in all cases, and the number of suicides is just now alarmingly on the increase. If we were here considering the subject of suicide in general we should have to enter at large into the causes of this increase; we should have to examine the relations subsisting between the increase of suicide and the increase of divorce, and inquire into those pathological conditions of modern society of which both are the symptoms; but our business is to consider the ethics of the matter, not the causes. The ethics of suicide resolves itself into the question, Is it justifiable under any circumstances to take one's life? You may object that this is not a fit subject to discuss with pupils of thirteen or fourteen. Why not? They are old enough to understand the motives which ordinarily lead to suicide, and also the reasons which forbid it--especially the most important reason, namely, that we live not merely or primarily to be happy, but to help on as far as we can the progress of things, and therefore that we are not at liberty to throw life away like an empty shell when we have ceased to enjoy it. The discussion of suicide is indeed of the greatest use because it affords an opportunity early in the course of our lessons on duty to impress this cardinal truth, to describe upon the moral globe this great meridian from which all the virtues take their bearings. However, in accordance with the inductive method, we must approach this idea by degrees. The first position I should take is that while suffering is often temporary, suicide is final. It is folly to take precipitately a step which can not be recalled. Very often in moments of deep depression the future before us seems utterly dark, and in our firmament there appears not one star of hope; but presently from some wholly unexpected quarter help comes. Fortune once more takes us into her good graces, and we are scarcely able to understand our past downheartedness in view of the new happiness to which we have fallen heirs. Preserve thy life in view of the brighter chances which the future may have in store. This is a good rule as far as it goes, but it does not fit the more trying situations. For there are cases where the fall from the heights of happiness is as complete as it is sudden, and the hope of recovering lost ground is really shut out. Take from actual life the case of a husband who fairly idolized his young wife and lost her by death three months after marriage. We may suppose that in the course of years he will learn to submit to his destiny. We may even hope that peace will come back to his poor heart, but we can not imagine that he will ever again be happy. Another case is that of a person who has committed a great wrong, the consequences of which are irreparable, and of which he must carry the agonizing recollection with him to the grave. Time may assuage the pangs of remorse, and religion may comfort him, but happiness can never be the portion of such as he. Still another instance--less serious, but of more frequent occurrence--is that of a merchant who has always occupied a commanding position in the mercantile community, and who, already advanced in years, is suddenly compelled to face bankruptcy. The thought of the hardships to which his family will be exposed, of his impending disgrace, drives him nearly to distraction. The question is, would the merchant, would those others, be justified in committing suicide? Certainly not. The merchant, if he has the stuff of true manhood in him, will begin over again, at the bottom of the ladder if need be, will work to support his family, however narrowly. It would be the rankest selfishness in him to leave them to their fate. The conscience-stricken sinner must be willing to pay the penalty of his crime, to the end that he may be purified even seven times in the fire of repentance. And even the lover who has lost his bride will find, if he opens his eyes, that there is still work for him to do in life. The world is full of evils which require to be removed, full of burdens which require to be borne. If our own burden seems too heavy for us, there is a way of lightening it. We may add to it the burden of some one else, and ours will become lighter. Physically, this would be impossible, but morally it is true. The rule of conduct, therefore, thus far reads, Preserve thy life in order to perform thy share of the work of the world. But the formula, even in this shape, is not yet entirely adequate, for there are those who can not take part in the work of the world, who can only suffer--invalids, e. g., who are permanently incapacitated, and whose infirmities make them a constant drag on the healthy lives of their friends. Why should not these be permitted to put an end to their miseries? I should say that so long as there is the slightest hope of recovery, and even where this hope is wanting, so long as the physical pain is not so intense or so protracted as to paralyze the mental life altogether, they should hold out. They are not cut off from the true ends of human existence. By patient endurance, by the exercise of a sublime unselfishness, they may even attain on their sick-beds a height of spiritual development which would otherwise be impossible; and, in addition, they may become by their uncomplaining patience the sweetest, gentlest helpers of their friends, not useless, assuredly, but shining examples of what is best and noblest in human nature. The rule, therefore, should read: Preserve thy life in order to fulfill the duties of life, whether those duties consist in doing or in patiently suffering. As has been said long ago, we are placed on guard as sentinels. The sentinel must not desert his post. I think it possible to make the pupil in the grammar grade understand that suicide is selfish, that we are bound to live, even though life has ceased to be attractive, in order that we may perform our share of the world's work and help others and grow ourselves in moral stature. This does not, of course, imply any condemnation of that vast number of cases in which suicide is committed in consequence of mental aberration. In the advanced course we shall have to return to this subject, and shall there refer _in extenso_ to the views of the Stoics. The morality of the Stoic philosophers in general is so high, and their influence even to this day so great, that their defense, or rather enthusiastic praise of suicide,[16] needs to be carefully examined. I am of the opinion that we have here a case in which metaphysical speculation has had the effect of distorting morality. Metaphysics in this respect resembles religion. On the one hand the influence of religion on morality has been highly beneficial, on the other it has been hurtful in the extreme--instance human sacrifices, religious wars, the Inquisition, etc. In like manner, philosophy, though not to the same extent, has both aided morality and injured it. I regard the Stoic declamations on suicide as an instance of the latter sort. The Stoic philosophy was pantheistic. To live according to Nature was their principal maxim, or, more precisely, according to the reason in Nature. They maintained that in certain circumstances a man might find it impossible to live up to the rational standard; he might, for instance, discover himself to be morally so weak as to be unable to resist temptation, and in that case it would be better for him to retire from the scene and to seek shelter in the Eternal Reason, just as, to use their own simile, one who found the room in which he sat filled to an intolerable degree with smoke would not be blamed for withdrawing from it. It was their pantheism that led them to favor suicide, and in this respect it is my belief that the modern conscience, trained by the Old and New Testaments, has risen to a higher level than theirs. We moderns feel it impossible to admit that to the sane mind temptation can ever be so strong as to be truly irresistible. We always can resist if we will. We can, because we ought; as Kant has taught us to put it. We always can because we always ought. NOTE.--Despite the rigorous disallowance of suicide in general plainly indicated in the above, I should not wish to be understood as saying that there are no circumstances whatever in which the taking of one's life is permissible. In certain rare and exceptional cases I believe it to be so. In the lecture as delivered I attempted a brief description of these exceptional cases, too brief, it appeared, to prevent most serious misconception. I deem it best, therefore, to defer the expression of my views on this delicate matter until an occasion arrives when I shall be able to articulate my thought in full detail, such as would here be impossible. From the commandment "Preserve thy life" it follows not only that we should not lay violent hands upon ourselves, but that we should do all in our power to develop and invigorate the body, in order that it may become an efficient instrument in the service of our higher aims. The teacher should inform himself on the subject of the gymnastic ideal of the Greeks and consider in how far this ideal is applicable to modern conditions. In general, the teacher should explore as fully as possible the ethical problems on which he touches. He should not be merely "one lesson ahead" of his pupils. Really it is necessary to grasp the whole of a subject before we can properly set forth its elements. A very thorough normal training is indispensable to those who would give moral instruction to the young. The duties of cleanliness and temperance fall under the same head as the above. In speaking of cleanliness, there are three motives--the egoistic, the æsthetic, and the moral--to which we may appeal. Be scrupulously clean for the sake of health, be clean lest you become an object of disgust to others, be clean in order to retain your self-respect. Special emphasis should be laid on secret cleanliness. Indolent children are sometimes neat in externals, but shockingly careless in what is concealed from view. The motive of self-respect shows itself particularly in secret cleanliness. The duty of temperance is supported by the same three motives. Intemperance undermines health, the glutton or the drunkard awakens disgust, intemperance destroys self-respect. To strengthen the repugnance of the pupils against intemperance in eating, contrast the way in which wild beasts eat with that in which human beings partake of their food. The beast is absorbed in the gratification of its appetite, eats without the use of implements, eats unsocially. The human way of eating is in each particular the opposite. Show especially that the act of eating is spiritualized by being made subservient to friendly intercourse and to the strengthening of the ties of domestic affection. The family table becomes the family altar. Call attention also to the effects of drunkenness; point out the injuries which the drunkard inflicts on wife and children by his neglect to provide for them, by the outbursts of violence to which he is subject under the influence of strong drink; describe his physical, mental, and moral degradation; lay stress on the fact that liquor deprives him of the use of his reason. With respect to temperance in food, there are one or two points to be noted. I say to my pupils if you are particularly fond of a certain dish, sweetmeats, for instance, make it a rule to partake less of that than if you were not so fond of it. This is good practice in self-restraint. I make out as strong a case as possible against the indulgence of the candy habit. Young people are not, as a rule, tempted to indulge in strong drink; but they are tempted to waste their money and injure their health by an excessive consumption of sweets. It is well to apply the lesson of temperance to the things in which they are tempted. For the teacher the following note may be added: Of the senses, some, like that of taste, are more nearly allied to the physical part of us; others, like sight and hearing, to our rational nature. This antithesis of the senses may be used in the interest of temperance. Appeal to the higher senses in order to subdue the lower. A band of kindergarten children, having been invited on a picnic, were given the choice between a second plate of ice cream, for which many of them were clamoring, and a bunch of flowers for each. Most of them were sufficiently interested in flowers to prefer the latter. In the case of young children, the force of the physical appetite may also be weakened by appealing to their affection. During the later stage of adolescence, when the dangers which arise from the awakening life of the senses become great and imminent, the attention should be directed to high intellectual aims, the social feelings should be cultivated, and a taste for the pleasures of the senses of sight and hearing--namely, the pleasures of music, painting, sculpture, etc.--should be carefully developed. Artistic, intellectual, and social motives should be brought into play jointly to meet the one great peril of this period of life. DUTIES WHICH RELATE TO THE FEELINGS. Under this head let me speak first of fear. There is a distinction to be drawn between physical and moral cowardice. Physical cowardice is a matter of temperament or organization. Perhaps it can hardly ever be entirely overcome, but the exhibition of it can be prevented by moral courage. Moral cowardice, on the other hand, is a fault of character. In attempting to formulate the rule of conduct, appeal as before to the egoistic motive, then to the social--i. e., the desire for the good opinion of others--and lastly to the moral motive, properly speaking. Fear paralyzes; it fascinates its victim like the fabled basilisk. Nothing is more common than a sense of helpless immobility under the influence of fear. There is a way of escape. You might run or leap for your life, but you can not stir a limb. What you need to do is to turn away your attention by a powerful effort of the will from the object which excites fear. So long as that object is before you the mind can not act; the mind is practically absent. What you need is presence of mind. Let the teacher adduce some of the many striking instances in which men in apparently desperate straits have been saved by presence of mind. The rule thus far would read: Be brave and suppress fear, because by so doing you may escape out of danger. In the next place, by so doing you will escape the reproaches of your fellow-men, for cowardice is universally condemned as shameful. Cite from Spartan history examples showing in the strongest light the feeling of scorn and contempt for the coward. There are, however, cases where death is certain, and where there is no support like that of public opinion to sustain courage. What should be the rule of duty in such cases? Take the case of a person who has been shipwrecked. He swims the sea alone, he is still clinging to a spar, but realizes that in a few minutes he must let go, his strength being well-nigh spent. What should be his attitude of mind in that supreme moment. The forces of nature are about to overwhelm him. What motive can there be strong enough to support bravery in that moment? The rule of duty for him would be: Be brave, because as a human being you are superior to the forces of nature, because there is something in you--your moral self--over which the forces of nature have no power, because what happens to you in your private character is not important, but it is important that you assert the dignity of humanity to the last breath. After having discussed courage, define fortitude. Point out the importance of strength of will. Contrast the strong will with the feeble, with the wayward, the irresolute, and also the obstinate will, for obstinacy is often the sign of weakness rather than of strength. See, for useful hints on this subject, Bain's The Emotions and the Will. What happens to thy little self is not important. This is the leading thought which shall also guide us in the discussion of _Anger_. In entering on the subject of anger begin by describing the effects of it. Quote the passage from Seneca's treatise on anger, showing how it disfigures the countenance. Point out that anger provokes anger in return, and is therefore contrary to self-interest. Call to your aid the social motive by showing that under the influence of anger we often overshoot the mark and inflict injuries on others which we had not intended. Finally, show that indulgence in anger is immoral. In what sense is it immoral? Anger is an emotional reaction against injury. When a child hurts its foot against a stone, it is often so unreasonably angry at the stone as to strike it. When an adult person receives a blow, his first impulse is to return it. This desire to return injury for injury is one of the characteristic marks of anger. Another mark is that anger is proportional to the injury received, and not to the fault implied. Every one knows that a slight fault in another may occasion a great injury to ourselves, while, on the other hand, a serious fault may only cause us a slight inconvenience. The angry person measures his resentment by the injury, and not by the fault. Anger is selfish. It is fed and pampered by the delusion that our pleasures and pains are of chief importance. Contrast with anger the moral feeling of indignation. Anger is directed against the injury received, indignation solely against the wrong done. The immoral feeling prompts us to hate wrong because it has been inflicted on us. The moral feeling prompts us to hate wrong because it is wrong. Now, to the extent that we sincerely hate wrong we shall be stirred up to diminish its power over others as well as over ourselves; we shall, for instance, be moved to save the evil doer who has just injured us from the tyranny of his evil nature; we shall aspire to become the moral physicians of those who have hurt us. And precisely because they have hurt us, they have a unique claim on us. We who know better than others the extent of their disease are called upon more than others to labor with a view to their cure. In this connection the rule of returning good for evil should be explained. This rule does not apply alike in all cases, though the spirit of it should always inspire our actions. If a pickpocket should steal our purse, it would be folly to hand him a check for twice the amount he has just stolen. If a hardened criminal should draw his knife and wound us in the back, it would be absurd to request him kindly to stab us in the breast also. We should in this case not be _curing_ him, but simply confirming him in his evil doing. The rule is: Try to free the sinner from the power of sin. In some cases this is best accomplished by holding his hand, as it were, and preventing him from carrying out the intended wrong. In other cases by depriving him of his liberty for a season, subjecting him to wholesome discipline, and teaching him habits of industry. Only in the case of those who have already attained a higher moral plane, and whose conscience is sensitive, does the rule of returning good for evil apply literally. If a brother has acted in an unbrotherly way toward you, do you on the next occasion act wholly in a brotherly way toward him. You will thereby show him how he ought to have acted and awaken the better nature in him. Certain practical rules for the control of anger may be given to the pupil. Suppress the signs of anger; you will thereby diminish its force. Try to gain time: "When you are angry, count ten before you speak; when you are very angry, count a hundred." Having gained time, examine rigorously into your own conduct. Ask yourself whether you have not been partly to blame. If you find that you have, then, instead of venting your wrath on your enemy, try rather to correct the fault which has provoked hostility. But if, after honest self-scrutiny, you are able to acquit yourself, then you can all the more readily act the part of the moral physician, for it is the innocent who find it easiest to forgive. It is also useful to cite examples of persons who, like Socrates, have exhibited great self-control in moments of anger; and to quote proverbs treating of anger, to explain these proverbs and to cause them to be committed to memory. I advise, indeed, that proverbs be used in connection with all the moral lessons. Of the manner in which they are to be used I shall speak later on. The last of the present group of duties which we shall discuss relates to the feelings of vanity, pride, humility. Vanity is a feeling of self-complacency based on external advantages. A person is vain of his dress or of his real or supposed personal charms. The peacock is the type of vanity. Though the admiration of others ministers to vanity, yet it is possible to be vain by one's self--before a mirror, for instance. The feeling of pride, on the other hand, depends upon a comparison between self and others. Pride implies a sense of one's own superiority and of the inferiority of others. Both feelings are anti-moral. They spring, like moral cowardice and anger, from the false belief that this little self of ours is of very great importance. There is no such thing as proper pride or honest pride. The word pride used in this connection is a misnomer. Vanity is spurious self-esteem based on external advantages. Pride is spurious self-esteem based on comparison with others. Genuine self-esteem is based on the consciousness of a distinction which we share with all humanity--namely, the capacity and the duty of rational development. This genuine self-esteem has two aspects--the one positive, the other negative. The positive aspect is called dignity, the negative humility. True dignity and true humility always go together. The sense of dignity arises within us when we remember the aims to which as human beings we are pledged; the sense of humility can not fail to arise when we consider how infinitely in practice we all fall below those aims. Thus while pride depends on a comparison of ourselves with others, the genuinely moral feeling is excited when we consider our relation to the common ends of mankind. On the one hand, we are indeed privileged to pursue those ends, and are thereby exalted above all created things and above the whole of the natural world with all its stars and suns. Upon this consideration is founded the sense of dignity. On the other hand, we can not but own how great is the distance which separates even the best of us from the goal, and this gives rise to a deep sense of humility. The rule of conduct which we are considering is a rule of proper self-estimation. Estimate thy worth not by external advantages nor by thy pre-eminence above others, but by the degree of energy with which thou pursuest the moral aims. To mark off the distinction between vanity and pride on the one hand and dignity on the other, the teacher may contrast in detail the lives of Alcibiades and Socrates. In connection with the discussion of anger and of pride, define such terms as hate, envy, malice. Hatred is anger become chronic. Or we may also say the state of mind which leads to passionate paroxysms in the case of anger is called hate when it has turned into a settled inward disposition. In other respects the characteristic marks of both are the same. Envy is the obverse of pride. Pride is based on real or fancied superiority to others. Envy is due to real or fancied inferiority. Pride is the vice of the strong, envy of the weak. Malice is pleasure in the loss of others irrespective of our gain. I have observed on a previous occasion that the feelings considered by themselves have no moral value. Nevertheless, we have now repeatedly spoken of moral feelings. The apparent contradiction disappears if we remember that all feelings of the higher order presuppose, and are the echo of complex systems of ideas. The moral feelings are those in which moral ideas have their resonance; and those feelings are valuable in virtue of the ideas which they reflect. The feeling of moral courage depends on the idea that the injuries we receive at the hands of fortune are not important, but that it is important for us to do credit to our rational nature. The feeling of moral indignation depends on the idea that the injuries we receive from our fellow-men are not important, but that it is important that the right be done and the wrong abated. The feelings of moral dignity and humility combined depend on the idea that it does not signify whether the shadow we cast in the world of men be long or short, but only that we live in the light of the moral aims. FOOTNOTE: [16] See, e. g., the famous passage in Seneca, De Ira, iii, 15. XIII. DUTIES WHICH RELATE TO OTHERS. FILIAL DUTIES. We began our course of moral instruction with the self-regarding duties, and assigned the second place to the duties which relate to others. There is an additional reason besides the one already given for keeping to this order. If we were to begin with the commandments or prohibitions which relate to others--e. g., the sixth, eighth, and ninth commandments of the Decalogue--the pupil might easily get the impression that these things are forbidden solely because they involve injuries to others, but that in cases where the injury is inconsiderable, or not apparent, the transgression of moral commandments is more or less excusable. There are many persons who seem unable to understand that it is really sinful to defraud the custom-house or to neglect paying one's fare in a horse-car. And why? Because the injury inflicted seems so insignificant. Now, it is of the utmost consequence to impress upon the pupil that every action which involves a violation of duty to others at the same time produces a change in the moral quality of the agent, that he suffers as well as the one whom he wrongs. The subjective and objective sides of transgression can not in point of principle and ought not in actual consciousness to be separated. If, therefore, we begin by enforcing such duties as temperance the pupil will at once feel that the violation of the law changes his inward condition, degrades him in his own eyes, lowers him in the scale of being. The true standpoint from which all moral transgression should be regarded will thus be gained at the outset, and it will be comparatively easy to maintain the same point of view when we come to speak of the social duties. To start discussion on the subject of the filial duties, relate the story of Æneas carrying his aged father, Anchises, out of burning Troy; also the story of Cleobis and Bito (Herodotus, i, 31). Recall the devotion of Telemachus to Ulysses. Tell the story of Lear and his daughters, contrasting the conduct of Regan and Goneril with that of Cordelia. An excellent story to tell, especially to young children, is that of Dama. Æneas and Telemachus illustrate the filial spirit as expressed in services rendered to parents, but opportunity to be of real service to parents is not often offered to the very young. The story of Dama exhibits the filial spirit as displayed in acts of delicacy and consideration, and such acts are within the power of all children. The story is located in Palestine, and is supposed to have occurred at the time when the temple at Jerusalem was still standing. Dama was a dealer in jewels, noted for possessing the rarest and richest collection anywhere to be found. It happened that it became necessary to replace a number of the precious stones on the breastplate of the high priest, and a deputation was sent from Jerusalem to wait on Dama and to select from his stock what was needed. Dama received his distinguished visitors with becoming courtesy, and on learning their mission spread out before them a large number of beautiful stones. But none of these were satisfactory. The stones must needs be of extraordinary size and brilliancy. None but such might be used. When Dama was informed of this he reflected a moment, then said that in a room occupied by his old father there was a cabinet in which he kept his most precious gems, and that among them he was sure he could find what his visitors wanted. He bade them delay a few moments, while he made the necessary search. But presently he returned without the jewels. He expressed the greatest regret, but declared that it was impossible to oblige them. They were astonished, and, believing it to be a mere trader's trick, offered him an immense price for the stones. He answered that he was extremely sorry to miss so profitable a transaction, but that it was indeed beyond his power to oblige them now--if they would return in an hour or two he could probably suit them. They declared that their business admitted of no delay; that the breastplate must be repaired at once, so that the priest might not be prevented from discharging his office. And so he allowed them to depart. It appears that when Dama opened the door of the room he saw his old father asleep on the couch. He tried to enter noiselessly, but the door creaked on its hinges, and the old man started in his sleep. Dama checked himself, and turned back. He said, "I will forego the gain which they offer me, but I will not disturb the slumbers of my father." The sleep of the old father was sacred to Dama. Children are often thoughtless in breaking noisily into a room where father or mother is resting. Such a story tends to instill the lesson of consideration and of reverence. Reverence is the key-note of filial duty. You will remember that Goethe, in Wilhelm Meister, in those chapters in which he sketches his pedagogical ideal, bases the entire religious and moral education of the young on a threefold reverence. He applies the following symbolism: The pupils of the ideal pedagogical institution are required to take, on different occasions, three different attitudes. Now they fold their arms on their breast, and look with open countenance upward; again they fold their arms on their backs, and their bright glances are directed toward the earth; and again they stand in a row, and their faces are turned to the right, each one looking at his neighbor. These three attitudes are intended to symbolize reverence toward what is above us, toward what is beneath us, and toward our equals. These three originate and culminate in the true self-reverence. In speaking of filial duty, we are concerned with reverence toward what is above us. The parent is the physical, mental, and moral superior of the child. It is his duty to assist the child's physical, mental, and moral growth; to lift it by degrees out of its position of inferiority, so that it may attain the fullness of its powers, and help to carry on the mission of mankind when the older generation shall have retired from the scene. The duty of the superior toward the inferior is to help him to rise above the plane of inferiority. The receptive and appreciative attitude of one who is thus helped is called reverence. But we must approach the nature of parental duty more closely, and the following reflections may put us in the way: No man can attain the intellectual aims of life without assistance. A scientist inhabiting a desert island and limited to his own mental resources could make little headway. The scientist of to-day utilizes the accumulated labors of all the generations of scientists that have preceded him, and depends for the value of his results on the co-operation and the sifting criticism of his contemporaries. And as no one can get much knowledge without the help of others, so no one is justified in seeking knowledge for his own private pleasure, or in seeking the kind of knowledge that happens to pique his vanity. For instance, it is a violation of intellectual duty to spend one's time in acquiring out-of-the way erudition which is useful only for display. The pursuit of knowledge is a public not a private end. Every scholar and man of science is bound to enlarge as far as he can the common stock of truth, to add to the scientific possessions of the human race. But in order to do this he must question himself closely, that he may discover in what direction his special talent lies, and may apply himself sedulously to the cultivation of that. For it is by specializing his efforts that he can best serve the general interests of truth. The same holds good with respect to the pursuit of social ends--e. g., the correction of social abuses and the promotion of social justice. The reformer of to-day stands on the shoulders of all the reformers of the past, and would have little prospect of success in any efforts he may make without the co-operation and criticism of numerous co-workers. Nor, again, is it right for him to take up any and every project of reform that may happen to strike his fancy. He ought rather to consider what particular measures under existing circumstances are most likely to advance the cause of progress, and in what capacity he is specially fitted to promote such measures. Justice and truth are public, not private ends. The highest aim of life for each one is to offer that contribution which he, as an individual, is peculiarly fitted to make toward the attainment of the public ends of mankind. The individual when living only for himself, absorbed in his private pleasures and pains, is a creature of little worth; and his existence is of little more account in the scheme of things than that of the summer insects, who have their day and perish. But the individual become the organ of humanity acquires a lasting worth, and his individuality possesses an inviolable sanctity. The sacredness of individuality in the sense just indicated is a leading idea of ethics--perhaps it would not be too much to say, the leading idea. And now we can state more exactly the nature of parental duty. It is the duty of the parent, remembering that he is the guardian of the permanent welfare of his child, to respect, to protect, to develop its individuality--above all, to discover its individual bent; for that is often latent, and requires to be persistently searched out. It is the duty and the privilege of the parent to put the child, as it were, in possession of its own soul. And upon this relationship filial reverence is founded, and from it the principal filial duties may be deduced. Because the child does not know what is best for it, in view of its destiny, as described above, it is bound to obey. Obedience is the first of the filial duties. Secondly, the child is bound to show gratitude for the benefits received at the hands of its parents. The teacher should discuss with his pupils the principal benefits conferred by parents. The parents supply the child with food, shelter, and raiment; they nurse it in sickness, often sacrificing sleep, comfort, and health for its sake. They toil in order that it may want nothing; they give it, in their fond affection, the sweet seasoning of all their other gifts. It is well to bring these facts distinctly before the pupil's mind. The teacher can do it with a better grace than the parent himself. The teacher can strengthen and deepen the home feeling, and it is his office to do so. The pupil should go home from his moral lesson in school and look upon his parents with a new realization of all that he owes them, with a new and deeper tenderness. But the duty of gratitude should be based, above all, upon the greatest gift which the child obtains from his parents, the help which it receives toward attaining the moral aim of its existence. I do not include the commandment "Love thy parents" among the rules of filial duty, for I do not think that love can be commanded. Love follows of itself if the right attitude of reverence, obedience, gratitude be observed. Love is the sense of union with another. And the peculiarity of filial love, whereby it is distinguished from other kinds of love, is that it springs from union with persons on whom we utterly depend, with moral superiors, to whom we owe the fostering of our spiritual as well as of our physical existence. But how shall the sentiment of filial gratitude express itself? Gratitude is usually displayed by a return of the kindness received. But the kindness which we receive from parents is such that we can never repay it. It is of the nature of a debt which we can never hope fully to cancel. We can do this much--when our parents grow old, we can care for them, and smooth the last steps that lead to the grave. And when we ourselves have grown to manhood and womanhood, and have in turn become parents, we can bestow upon our own offspring the same studious and intelligent care which our parents, according to the light they had, bestowed on us, and thus ideally repay them by doing for others what they did for us. But this is a point which concerns only adults. As for young children, they can show their gratitude in part by slight services, delicacies of behavior, the chief value of which consists in the sentiment that inspires them, but principally by a willing acceptance of parental guidance, and by earnest efforts in the direction of their own intellectual and moral improvement. There is no love so unselfish as parental love. There is nothing which true parents have more at heart than the highest welfare of their children. There is no way in which a child can please father and mother better than by doing that which is for its own highest good. The child's progress in knowledge and in moral excellence are to every parent the most acceptable tokens of filial gratitude. And this leads me to an important point, to which reference has already been made. It has been stated that each period of life has its distinct set of duties; furthermore, that in each period there is one paramount duty, around which the others may be grouped; and, lastly, that at each successive stage it is important to reach backward and to bring the ethical system of the preceding period into harmony with the new system. Of this last point we are now in a position to give a simple illustration. The paramount duty of the school period is to acquire knowledge; the paramount duty of the previous period is to reverence parents. But, as has just been shown, reverence toward parents at this stage is best exhibited by conscientious study, and thus the two systems are merged into one.[17] THE FRATERNAL DUTIES. Thus much concerning the filial relations. We pass on to speak of the fraternal duties; the duties of brothers to brothers and sisters to sisters; of brothers to sisters and conversely; of older to younger brothers and sisters and conversely. The fraternal duties are founded upon the respect which equals owe to equals. The brotherly relation is of immense pedagogic value, inasmuch as it educates us for the fulfillment later on of our duties toward all equals, be they kinsmen or not. As between brothers, the respect of each for the rights of the other is made comparatively easy by natural inclination. The tie of blood, close and constant association in the same house, common experience of domestic pleasures and sorrows--all this tends to link the hearts of the brothers together, and thus the first lessons in one of the hardest duties are given by Love, the gentlest of school-masters. But the word equality must not be misconceived. Equality is not to be taken in its mathematical sense. One brother is gifted and may eventually rise to wealth and fame, another is Nature's step-child; one sister is beautiful, another the opposite. If the idea of equality be pressed to a literal meaning, it is sure to give rise to ugly feelings in the hearts of the less fortunate. How, then, shall we define equality in the moral sense? A superior, as we have seen, renders services which the inferior can not adequately return. Equals are those who are so far on the same level as to be capable of rendering mutual services, alike in importance, though not necessarily the same in kind. Equals are correlative to one another. The services of each are complementary to those of the other. The idea of _mutual service_, therefore, is characteristic of the relation of brothers, and the rule of duty may be formulated simply, Serve one another. From this follow all the minor commands and prohibitions which are usually impressed upon children,[18] and also the far loftier counsels which apply only to adults. It will be perceived that the rule of mutual service, when carried to its highest applications, presupposes the principle of individual differentiation, to which we have already attached so much weight. This principle is fundamental to fraternal as well as to paternal and filial duty. For precisely to the extent that brothers are distinctly individualized can they supplement each other and correlate their mutual services. One can not indeed overlook the patent fact that brothers who are unlike in nature frequently repel each other, and that in such cases the very closeness of the relation often becomes a source of extreme irritation, and even of positive agony. But, on the other hand, there is no surer sign of moral ripeness than the ability to enter into, to understand, to appreciate a nature totally unlike one's own, and thus to some extent to appropriate its excellences. The very fact, therefore, that we at first feel ourselves repelled should be taken as a hint that this natural repulsion is to be overcome. For every type of character needs its opposite to correct it. The idealist, for instance, needs the realist, if he would keep his balance. And our uncongenial brothers, precisely because they are at first uncongenial, if we will but remember that they are, after all, our brothers, and that it is our duty to come into harmonious relations with them, can best help us to this fine self-conquest, this true enrichment and enlargement of our moral being. A word may be added as a caution to parents and teachers. The way to create brotherly feeling among the young is to treat them impartially, to love them with an equal love. Those who love and are beloved by the same person are strongly induced to love one another. In the next place, when disputes arise, as is perhaps unavoidable, the parent or teacher should, as a rule, enter patiently into the cause and not cut off inquiry because the whole matter seems trivial. The subject matter of the dispute may be insignificant enough, but the satisfaction of the sense of justice of the young is of the greatest significance. When the sense of justice is outraged, be the cause never so trivial, a feeling of distrust against the parent is generated, and of incipient hatred against the brother who may have provoked the unjust decision. I have yet to speak of the duties of older to younger brothers and sisters. If it is difficult to serve two masters, it is hardly pleasant to be asked to serve half a dozen. The youngest children in a large family are often placed in this position. There is, in the first place, the authority of the parents, which must be respected; then, in addition, each of the grown-up sons and daughters is apt to try to exercise a little authority on his or her own account. The younger ones naturally resent this petty despotism, and disobedience and angry recriminations are the unpleasant consequences. It is often necessary that elder sons and daughters should have partial charge of the younger. They can in all cases make their authority acceptable by representing it as delegated, by having it understood that they regard themselves merely as substitutes in the parents' place. There must be unity of influence in the home, or else the moral development of the young will be sadly interfered with. There must be only a single center of authority, represented by the parents, and all minor exercise of authority should be referred back to that center. "Father and mother wish me to help you"; "Father and mother will be pleased if you do so and so; let me try to show you how"--if the method of management implied in such words as these be adopted, the younger children will look upon the elder as their friends and be glad to accept advice and direction. Lastly, a word about the relation between brothers and sisters, and conversely. This relationship is qualified by the difference of sex. A certain chivalry characterizes the attitude of the brother toward the sister, a certain motherliness that of the sister toward the brother. The relation may be and often is a very beautiful one. The peculiar moral responsibility connected with it is that the sister is usually the first woman whom the brother knows at all intimately and as an equal, and that his notions of womanhood are largely influenced by the traits which he sees in her, while the brother is usually the first man whom the sister knows as a companion, and her ideas of men are colored by what she sees in him. To illustrate the fraternal relation I have been in the habit of recalling the stories from the Old Testament which bear upon this subject. I have also given an account of the life of the brothers Jacob and William Grimm. There was only a year's difference between them. Jacob Grimm, in the eulogy on William, which he delivered before the Berlin Academy in the year 1860, says: "During the slowly creeping years of our school life we slept in the same bed and occupied the same room. There we sat at one and the same table studying our lessons. Later on there were two tables and two beds in the same room; and later still, during the entire period of our riper manhood, we still continued to occupy two adjoining rooms, always under the same roof." All their property, and even their books, they held in common; what belonged to the one belonged to the other. They visited the university together in the same year; they both took up, in deference to their mother's wish, the same study, that of the law, which they alike hated, and then they turned in common to the study of philology, in which both delighted and both achieved such great distinction. They published their first important works in the same year; and as they slept together in the same bed when they were children, so now they sleep side by side in the grave. I refer to the story of Lear and his daughters to show that the common love for the parents is necessary to sustain the love of brothers and sisters toward one another. Lear had estranged the affection of Goneril and Regan through his partiality for Cordelia. The two women, who had no love for their father, hated each other; and Goneril, who was the first to cast him out, poisoned her sister. To illustrate the relations of brothers to sisters, I give an account of the beautiful lives of Charles and Mary Lamb. To show the redeeming power of womanhood as represented in a sister, I explain to older pupils the story which underlies Goethe's drama of Iphigenia. Orestes is sick; and what is his malady? His soul has been poisoned by remorse. Believing himself to be the executive arm of justice, he committed a great crime, and now he is torn by the pangs of conscience, and his mind is forever dwelling on that scene in which he was a fatal actor. And how does Iphigenia heal him? She heals him by the clear truthfulness of her nature, which the play is designed to bring out. With the light of genuine womanhood which emanates from her she illuminates anew his darkened path. By the force of the good which he learns to recognize in her he is led to a new trust in the redeeming power of the good in himself, and thus to start out afresh in a life of courage, hope, and active effort. The teacher should analyze and cause to be committed to memory the various beautiful proverbs which bear upon the subject of fraternal duty. FOOTNOTES: [17] It may also be pointed out to the pupil that a part of the task of intellectual and moral training, which originally belongs entirely to the parents, has by them been intrusted to the teachers, and that something of the reverence which belongs to the former is now due to the latter. [18] Do not quarrel over your respective rights; rather be more eager to secure the rights of your brother than your own. Do not triumph in your brother's disgrace or taunt him with his failings, but rather seek to build up his self-respect. Help one another in your tasks, etc. XIV. DUTIES TOWARD ALL MEN. JUSTICE AND CHARITY. JUSTICE.--The subject of justice is a difficult one to treat. Justice in the legal sense is to be distinguished from justice in the moral sense. We are concerned only with the latter. How much of it can we hope to include in such a course of instruction as this? We can, I think, explain the essential principle and give a few of its most important applications. What is this principle? Human society is an organism, and the perfection of it depends upon the degree to which the parts related are differentiated. Unity of organization is the end, differentiation is the means. The serving of universal ends is the aim, the emphasizing of individuality the means. The principle which underlies the laws of justice I take to be respect for individuality of others. And this may be expressed in the rule, Respect the individuality of every human being. It might, indeed, appear at first sight as if justice had to do only with those points in which all men are alike, and took no notice of the differences that subsist between them. Thus justice enjoins respect for the life of others; and in regard to this all men are exactly on a par, all men are equally entitled to live. But justice also commands us to respect the convictions of others, however different they may be from our own. And it is but a finer sense of justice which keeps us from intruding on the privacy of others, which leads us to show a proper consideration for the ways and idiosyncrasies of others, and in general to refrain from encroaching on the personality of others. The principle of justice may also be expressed in the rule, Do not interfere with the individual development of any one. APPLICATIONS OF THE PRINCIPLE OF JUSTICE.-- 1. _Do not kill._ By taking away the life of a human being we should of course cut off all chance of that person's further development. This requires no comment. But certain casuistical questions arise in connection with this command. Is it right to kill another in self-defense? The difficulty involved might be put in this way: A burglar breaks into your house by night and threatens to kill you. You have a weapon at hand and can save yourself by killing him. Now it is evident that one of two lives must be taken. But would it not be more moral on your part to say: I, at least, will not break the commandment. I would rather be killed than kill? This question serves to show to what absurdities a purely formal principle in ethics can lead, as we have already seen in the discussion of truthfulness. The problem of the duel and that of the taking of the life of others in war also belong under this head, but will be reserved for the advanced course. 2. _Respect the personal liberty of others._ Slavery, under whatever form, is an outrage on justice. The slave is degraded to be the mere instrument of his master's profit or pleasure. Let the teacher point out in what particulars the slave is wronged, and show the evil effects of the institution of slavery on the character of the master as well as of the slave. Question--Is it right to speak of wage-slavery, for instance, in cases where the hours of labor are so prolonged as to leave no time for higher interests, or where the relations of the laborer to his employer are such as to impair his moral independence? 3. _Respect the property of others._ Unless we are careful we may at this point commit a grave wrong. Upon what moral considerations shall the right of property be based? The school, especially the moral lessons which are imparted in it, should certainly not be placed in the service of vested interests. On the other hand, the school should not fill the pupils' minds with economic theories, which they are incapable of understanding, and of which the truth, the justice, the feasibility are still hotly disputed. We are therefore taking a very responsible step in introducing the idea of property at all into our moral lessons. And yet it is too great and important to be ignored. Some writers have advanced the theory that the right in question rests on labor, and they regard it as a self-evident proposition, one which, therefore, might safely be taught to the young, that every person is entitled to the products of his labor. Jules Simon says (see Paul Janet, Elements of Morals, English translation, p. 66): "This earth was worth nothing and produced nothing. I dug the soil, I brought from a distance fertilizing earth; it is now fertile. This fertility is my work; by fertilizing it, I made it mine." American writers have eloquent passages to the same effect. But this proposition certainly does not appear to me self-evident, nor even true. Chiefly for the reason that "my labor" and "my skill" are not original, but derivative factors in production. They are very largely the result of the labor and the skill of generations that have preceded me, that have built up in me this brain, this skill, this power of application. The products of my labor would indeed belong to me if my labor were really mine, if it were not to an incalculable extent the consequent of social antecedents, in regard to which I can not claim the least merit. The attempt to found the rewards of labor upon the merit of the laborer seems to me a perfectly hopeless one. Let me add that it is one thing to say that he who will not work shall not eat, and a very different thing to say that he who works shall enjoy what he has produced. The former statement merely signifies that he who will not contribute his share toward sustaining and improving human society is not entitled to any part in the advantages of the social order, though the charity of his fellow-men may grant him, under certain conditions and in the hope of changing his disposition, what he is not entitled to as of right. But the question what the share of the laborer ought to be is one that can not be settled in the rough-and-ready manner above suggested, and the considerations involved are, in truth, far too numerous and complex to be introduced at this stage. The whole question will be reopened later on. For the present it must suffice to state certain purely moral considerations on which the right of property may be made to rest. The following are the ideas which I should seek to develop: Property is justified by its uses. Its uses are to support the existence and promote the mental and moral growth of man. The physical life itself depends on property. Even in a communistic state the food any one eats must be his property in the sense that every one else is debarred from using it. The moral life of men depends on property. The moral life is rooted in the institution of the family, and the family could not exist without a separate domicile of its own and the means of providing for its dependent members. The independence and the growth of the intellect depend on property. In short, property is an indispensable adjunct of _personality_. This I take to be its moral basis. What I here indicate, however, is an ideal right which the existing state of society by no means reflects. By what methods we may best approach this ideal, whether by maintaining and improving the system of private property in land or by state ownership, whether by capitalistic or socialistic production, etc., are questions of means, not of ends, and raise problems in social science with which here we have not to deal. Question--If the present social arrangements are not morally satisfactory, if e. g., certain persons possess property to which on moral grounds they are not entitled, should not the commandment against stealing be suspended so far as they are concerned? The present system of rights, imperfect as it is, is the result of social evolution, and denotes the high-water mark of the average ethical consciousness of the world up to date. Respect for the existing system of rights, however, imperfect as it is, is the prime condition of obtaining a better system. 4. _Respect the mental liberty of others._ Upon this rule of justice is founded the right to freedom of speech, freedom of the press, and what is called the freedom of conscience. Point out the limitations of these various rights which follow from the fact of their universality. 5. _Respect the reputation of your fellow-men._ Refrain from backbiting and slander. Bridle your tongue. This undoubtedly is a rule of justice. "Who steals my purse steals trash," etc. The respect of our fellow-men is in itself a source of happiness and a moral prop, and, besides, the greatest help in achieving the legitimate purposes of life. He who has the confidence of others has wings to bear him along. He who is suspected for any reason, true or false, strikes against invisible barriers at every step. Nothing is so sensitive as character--a mere breath may tarnish it. It is therefore the gravest kind of injury to our neighbors to disseminate damaging rumors, to throw out dark hints and suggestions with respect to them, to impugn their motives. But is it not a duty to denounce evil and evil-doers and to put the innocent on their guard against wolves in sheep's clothing? Yes, if we are sure that our own motives are perfectly disinterested, that we are not in the least prompted by personal spite or prejudice. For if we dislike a person, as every one knows, we can not judge him fairly, we are prone to attribute to him all manner of evil qualities and evil intents which exist only in our own jaundiced imagination. Very often a person against whom we had at first conceived a distinct dislike proves on nearer acquaintance to be one whom we can esteem and even love. We should be warned by such experiences to hold our judgments in suspense, and not to allow injurious words to pass the lips. The vast moral importance of being able to hold one's tongue, the golden resources of silence, should be emphasized by the teacher. A series of lessons on good manners may be introduced at this point. The ceremonies of social intercourse, the various forms in which refined people show their deference for each other, the rule not to obtrude self in conversation, and the like, are so many illustrations of the respect which we owe to the personality of our fellow-men. Good manners are the æsthetic counterpart of good morals, and the connection between the two can easily be made plain. 6. _Speak the truth._ Inward truthfulness is a self-regarding duty; social truthfulness is a form of justice. Words represent facts. The words we speak to our neighbor are used by him as building-stones in the architecture of his daily conduct. We have no right to defeat the purposes of his life, to weaken the dwelling he is erecting, by supplying him with worthless building material. Upon exactly the same ground is based the duty of keeping one's promises, viz., that our fellow-men build on our promises. Promises made in a legal form are called contracts and can be enforced. Promises not made in legal form are equally binding from a moral point of view. It should be borne in mind, however, that conditional promises are canceled when the stipulated conditions do not occur, and, furthermore, that there are certain tacit conditions implied in all promises whatsoever. A person who has promised to visit a friend on a certain day and dies in the interval is not supposed to have broken his promise; nor if any one makes a similar promise and a heavy snowstorm should block the roads or if he should be confined to his bed by sickness is he likely to be accused of breaking his promise. The physical possibility of fulfilling them is a tacit condition in all promises. It is also a tacit condition in all promises that it shall be morally possible or consistent with morality to keep them. A young man who has promised to join a gang of burglars in an attack on a bank and who repents at the last moment is morally justified in refusing to keep his pledge. His crime consisted in having made the promise in the first place, not in refusing to fulfill it at the last moment. A person, however, who promises to pay usurious interest on a loan of money and who then takes advantage of the laws against usury to escape payment is a double-dyed rogue, for his intention is to cheat, and he uses the cloak of virtue as a screen in order to cheat with impunity. Let the teacher discuss the casuistical question whether it is right to keep a promise made to robbers--e. g., if we should fall into the hands of brigands, and they should make it a condition of our release that we shall not betray their hiding-place. Justice is based on positive respect for the individuality of others, but its commands may all be expressed in the negative form: Do not kill, do not infringe the liberty, the property of others, do not slander, do not lie, etc. It is often held, however, that there is a positive as well as a negative side to justice, and the two sides are respectively expressed in the formulas: Neminem laede and suum cuique--Hurt no one and give every one his due. Of positive or distributive justice we meet with such examples as the following: In awarding a prize the jury is bound in justice to give the award in favor of the most deserving competitor. The head of a department in filling a vacancy is bound in justice to avoid favoritism, to promote that one of his subordinates who deserves promotion, etc. But it seems to me that this distinction is unimportant. Give to each one his due is tantamount to Do not deprive any one of what is due him. If the prize or the place belongs to A we should, by withholding it from him, invade the rights of A as much as if we took money out of his purse. The commands are negative, but the virtue implied is positive enough, because it depends on positive respect for human nature. Do not infringe upon the sacred territory of another's personality is the rule of justice in all cases. CHARITY.--How shall we distinguish charity from justice? It is said that every one is justified in claiming from others what belongs to him as a matter of right, but that no one can exact charity. The characteristic mark of charity is supposed to be that it is freely given. But if I happen to be rich and can afford to supply the need of another am I not morally bound to do so, and has not my indigent neighbor a real claim upon me? Again, it has been said that the term justice is applied to claims which are capable of being formulated in general rules and imposed alike on all men in their dealings with one another, while in the case of charity both the measure and the object of it are to be freely determined by each one. We are free, according to this view, to decide whether a claim upon us exists or not; but, the claim once having been admitted, it is as binding upon us as any of the demands of justice. But, while this is true, I hold that nevertheless there exists a clear distinction between the virtues of justice and charity. We owe justice to our equals, charity to our inferiors. The word "inferior" is to be understood in a carefully limited sense. An employer owes his workmen, as a matter of justice, the wages he has agreed to pay. Though they may be socially his inferiors, in regard to this transaction they are his equals. They have agreed to render him certain services and he has agreed to return them an equivalent. Justice says Do not hinder the development of others; Charity says Assist the development of others. The application of the rule of charity will make its meaning clear. 1. Justice says do not destroy life; Charity says save life. Rescue from the flames the inmates of a burning house; leap into the waves to save a drowning fellow-creature. Such persons are dependent on your help. They are therefore with respect to you in an inferior position. Discuss with the class the limitations of this duty. I am not bound to jump into the water, for instance, when I see a person drowning unless I can swim. In fact, it would be culpable foolhardiness in me to do so. Discuss the following casuistical case: A child is lying on the railroad track and a locomotive is rapidly approaching. Am I bound to make the attempt to draw it away from the track? Does it make any difference whether I am single or the father of a family and have others dependent on me? In general, the attempt to save should not be made unless there is a distinct chance of succeeding without the sacrifice of one's own life; but we are justified in taking great risks, and courage and self-reliance are evinced in the degree of risk we are willing to take. There are cases, however, in which the deliberate sacrifice of one life for another is in the highest degree praiseworthy when, namely, the life to be saved is regarded as far more precious than our own. Instance the soldier who intercepts the thrust which is aimed at the life of his general. Instance the parent who in the Johnstown flood was seen to push his child to a place of safety and was then swept away by the current. 2. _Assist the needy._ This may be done by giving bread to the hungry, clothing to the naked, shelter to the homeless, by caring for the sick, advancing loans to those who are struggling toward self-support, etc. The rule of charity is based on respect for the personality of others. We are required to assist those who are too weak to hold their own, with a view of putting them on their feet again. The aim of all charity should be to make those who are dependent on it independent of it. From this point of view all mere almsgiving, all that so-called charity which only serves to make the dependent classes more dependent, stands condemned. But the true test of charity, upon which the greatest stress should be laid, is to be found in the way it reacts upon the charitable themselves. Right relations, whatever their nature, are always mutually beneficial. Does the deed of charity react beneficially on the doer? is the test question to be asked in every instance. Take the case of a person who gives large sums to the poor in the hope of seeing his name favorably mentioned in the newspapers. The motive in this case is vanity, and the effect of this spurious sort of charity is to increase the vanity of the donor. The reaction upon him, therefore, is morally harmful. Again, take the case of a person who gives capriciously, at the bidding of impulse, without considering whether his gifts are likely to be of lasting benefit to the recipients. He is confirmed in his habit of yielding to impulse, and the reaction is likewise morally injurious. On the other hand, the retroactive effects of true charity are most beneficial. In the first place, a reaction will take place in the direction of greater simplicity in our own lives. A person can not be seriously and deeply interested in the condition of the poor, can not truly realize the hardships which they suffer, without being moved to cut off superfluous expenditure. Secondly, true charity will teach us to enter into the problems of others, often so unlike our own; to put ourselves in their places; to consider how we should act in their circumstances; to fight their battles for them; and by this means our moral experience will be enlarged, and from being one, we become, as it were, many men. True charity will also draw closer the bond of fellowship between the poor and us, for we shall often discover virtues in them which we do not possess ourselves; and sometimes, at least, we shall have occasion to look up with a kind of awe to those whom we are aiding. In connection with the discussion of charity, let the teacher relate the biographies of John Howard, Sister Dora, Florence Nightingale, Elizabeth Fry, and others, who have been distinguished for their devotion to the suffering. 3. _Cheer up the sad._ Explain that a bright smile may often have the value of an act of charity. In general, emphasize the duty of suppressing irritability, ill humor, and moodiness, and of contributing to the sunshine of our households.[19] 4. _Console the bereaved._ The afflicted are for the moment weak and dependent; it is the office of loving charity to make them independent. Here the same train of reasoning is applicable as above in the case of the poor. It serves no useful purpose merely to sit down by the side of the sorrowful and to weep with them. They do need sympathy, but they also need, at least after the first paroxysms of grief have subsided, to be roused. The true cure for suffering is action. Those who suffer need to be nerved to action; they need to be shown, above all, the new duties which their situation entails. He who can point out to them the way of duty, and can give them of his own strength to walk in that way, is their best friend--he is the true consoler. 5. I have yet to speak of mental charity and of moral charity. Mental charity is practiced by the wise teacher, who puts his pupils on the road to knowledge, who helps them to discover their true vocation, and who, when they are involved in doubt and difficulty, succeeds in giving them the clew by which they can find an exit into mental clearness and light. 6. Moral charity is practiced by those who bend down to the sinful and the fallen, and awaken in them a new hope and trust in the good and in themselves. The charity which effects moral regeneration is perhaps the highest type of all, and of this I know no more fitting nor more sublime example than the dealing of Jesus with the outcasts of society. NOTE.--Without attempting to forestall further philosophical analysis, we may perhaps assume, as a working hypothesis, as a provisional principle of deduction in ethics, the principle of organization. The individual is an organ of humanity. It is his duty to discharge, as perfectly as possible, his special functions; hence the need of insisting on respect for individuality throughout. Even the self-regarding duties would have no meaning were not the complex whole in view, in the economy of which each member is required to perform his part. As in every organism, so in this, each separate organ serves, and is served in turn by all the others, and can attain its highest development only through this constant interaction. To complete the thought, it would be necessary to add that certain organs are more closely connected than others, and form lesser organisms within and subservient to the whole. This, however, is merely thrown out as a suggestion addressed to the student of ethics. THE DUTY OF GRATITUDE.--Upon this subject much might be said, did not the fact that the time at our command is nearly exhausted warn us to use even greater brevity than heretofore in dealing with the topics that remain. To bring out the right relations between benefactor and beneficiary, let the teacher put the question, Why is it wrong to cast up the benefits we have conferred to the one who has received them? And why, on the other hand, is it so base in the latter to show himself ungrateful. The reason is to be found in the respect due to the personality of others, to which we have so often alluded. Kant says that every human being is to be treated as an end in himself, and not merely as a means or a tool. In effect, the person who ignores benefits says to his benefactor: You are my tool. It is unnecessary for me to recognize your services, because you are not an independent person to be respected, but a creature to be made use of at pleasure. Ingratitude is a slur on the moral personality of others. On the other hand, he who casts up benefits practically says you have forfeited your independence through the favors you have accepted. I have made your personality tributary to mine. An excellent rule is that of Seneca. The benefactor should immediately forget what he has given; the beneficiary should always remember what he has received. True gratitude is based on the sense of our moral fellowship with others. The gifts received and returned are mere tokens of this noble relationship (as all gifts should be). You have just given to me. I will presently give to you twice as much again, or half as much, it matters not which, when occasion arises. We will further each other's aims as best we can, for the ends of each are sacred to the other. DUTIES TO SERVANTS.--Having spoken of the duties which we owe to all men, I may here refer to certain special duties, such as the duties toward servants. These may also be introduced in connection with the duties of the family, after the filial and fraternal duties have been considered. I have space only to mention the following points: 1. Servants are laborers. The same respect is due to them as to all other laborers. 2. They are not only laborers, but in a special sense helpers. They are members of the household in a subordinate capacity, and in many cases identify themselves closely with the interests of the family. They are, as it were, lay brothers and lay sisters of the family. From these considerations may be deduced the duties which we owe toward servants. DUTIES WITH REGARD TO ANIMALS.--I can not admit that we have duties toward animals. We can not very well speak of duties toward creatures on which we in part subsist; but there are duties with respect to animals. Man is a rational being, and as such takes a natural delight in that orderly arrangement and interdependence of parts which are the visible counterpart of the rational principle in his own nature. We ought not to step on or heedlessly crush under our feet even a single flower. Much less should we ruthlessly destroy the more perfect organism which we see in animals. Add to this that animals are sentient creatures, and that the useless infliction of pain tends to develop cruelty in us. As a practical means of fostering kindness toward animals, I suggest the following: Get your pupils interested in the habits of animals. Familiarity in this case will breed sympathy. Speak of the building instincts of bees; of the curious structures raised by those wonderful engineers, the beavers. Give prominence to the love for their young by which the brute creation is brought into closer connection with the human family. Mention especially the fidelity which some animals show toward man (the saving of human lives by St. Bernard dogs, etc.), and the uses which we derive from the various members of the animal creation. As to the fact that we use animals for our sustenance, the highest point of view to take, I think, is this, that man is, so to speak, the crucible in which all the utilities of nature are refined to higher spiritual uses. Man puts the whole of nature under contribution to serve his purposes. He takes trees from the forest in order to build his house, and to fashion the table at which he takes his meals; he brings up metal from the depths of the earth and converts it into tools; he takes clay and forms it into vessels. He also is permitted to pluck flowers wherewith to garnish his feasts, and to make them the tokens of his love; and in the same manner he may actually absorb the life of the lower animals, in order to transform and transfigure it, as it were, into that higher life which is possible only in human society. But it follows that he is a mere parasite and an interloper in nature, unless he actually leads the truly human life. FOOTNOTE: [19] For the teacher I add point 4. The duties mentioned under 5 and 6 may be practiced in a simple way by the young in the form of aiding their backward schoolmates, and observing the right attitude toward those of their companions who are in disgrace. XV. THE ELEMENTS OF CIVIC DUTY. It should be the aim of the school not only to connect the system of school duties with the duties of the previous period, but also to prepare the pupils morally for the period which follows. The school is the intermediate link between life in the family and life in society and the state. The course of moral instruction, therefore, culminates for the present in the chapter on civic duties. Needless to say that at this stage the subject can be considered in its elements only. The claims of the state upon the moral attachment of the citizen can hardly be presented too warmly. Life in the state as well as in the family is indispensable to the full development of character. Man, in his progress from childhood to old age, passes successively through ever-widening circles of duty, and new moral horizons open upon him as he grows out of one into the other. One of the largest of these circles, and, in respect to moral opportunities, one of the richest and most glorious, is the state. It may be said that the whole state exists ideally in every true citizen, or, what amounts to the same, that the true citizen embraces the interests of the state, as if they were his own, and acts from the point of view of the total body politic. Increased breadth of view and elevation of purpose are the moral benefits which accrue to every one who even honestly attempts to be a citizen in this sense. Much attention is paid in some schools to the machinery of our government. The pupils are expected to learn the exact functions of mayors, city councils, and legislative bodies, the provisions relative to the election of the President, etc. But while these things ought to be known, they relate, after all, only to the externals of government; and it is far more important to familiarize the pupils with the animating spirit of political institutions, with the great ideas which underlie the state. There are especially three political ideas to which I should give prominence; these are, the idea of the supremacy of the law; the true idea of punishment; and the idea of nationality. After we have instilled these ideas, it will be time enough to dwell with greater particularity on the machinery by which it is sought to carry them into effect. What method shall we use for instilling these ideas? The same which modern pedagogy applies in every branch of instruction. The rule is, Proceed from the known to the unknown; in introducing a new notion, connect it with some analogous notion already in the pupil's possession. The school offers excellent opportunities for developing the two ideas of law and punishment. In every school there exists a body of rules and regulations, or school laws. It should be made plain to the scholars that these laws are enacted for their own good. The government of the school should be made to rest as far as possible on the consent and co-operation of the governed. That school which does not secure on the part of the scholars a willing acceptance of the system of restraints which is necessary for the good of the whole, is a failure. In such an institution the law-abiding spirit can never be fostered. The play-ground, too, affords a preliminary training for future citizenship. On the play-ground the scholars learn to select and to obey their own leaders, to maintain the rules of the game, and to put down any infraction of them, whether in the shape of violence or fraud. They also learn to defer to the will of the majority--a most important lesson, especially in democratic communities--and to bear defeat good-humoredly.[20] The true idea of punishment should be brought home to the scholars through the discipline of the school. The ends of punishment are the protection of the community and the reformation of the offender. Nowhere better than in the little commonwealth of the school can these moral aspects of punishment be impressed; nowhere better can the foundation be laid for the changes which are so urgently needed in the dealings of the state with the criminal class. Everything, of course, depends upon the character of the teacher. His reputation for strict justice, the moral earnestness he displays in dealing with offenses, his readiness to forbear and forgive upon the least sign of genuine repentance--these are the means by which he can instill right notions as to what discipline should be. It has been suggested that, when a particularly serious case of transgression occurs, the teacher can sometimes produce a profound moral effect on the class by submitting the case to them as a jury and asking for their verdict. The idea of nationality I regard as fundamental in political ethics. There is such a thing as national character, national genius, or national individuality. When we think of the Greeks, we think of them as pre-eminent for their achievements in art and philosophy; of the Hebrews, as the people of the Bible; of the Romans, as the founders of jurisprudence, etc. And on turning to the modern nations we find that the talents of the English, the Germans, the French, the Italians, etc., are no less diversified. Morally speaking, it is the mission of each nation in correlation with others to contribute to the universal work of civilization its own peculiar gifts. The state may be regarded as that organization of the public life which is designed _to develop the national individuality_; to foster the national genius in whatever direction it may seek to express itself, whether in industry, art, literature, or science; to clarify its aims, and to raise it to the highest pitch of beneficent power. Doubtless this idea, as stated, is too abstract to be grasped by the young; but it can be brought down to their level in a tangible way. For the national genius expresses itself in the national history, and more especially is it incorporated in those great leaders, who arise at critical periods to guide the national development into new channels. It is at this point that we realize anew the important support which the teaching of history may give to the moral teaching.[21] Thus the political history of the United States, if I may be permitted to use that as an illustration of my thought, may be divided into three great periods. The struggle with nature occupied the earliest period--that of colonization; in this period we see the American man engaged in subduing a continent. The struggle for political freedom fills the period of the Revolution. The struggle for a universal moral idea lends grandeur to our civil war. The story of these three great struggles should be related with such clearness that the idea which dominated each may stand out in relief, and with such fervor that the pupils may conceive a more ardent love for their country which, at the same time that it holds out immeasurable prospects for the future, already possesses such glorious traditions. There is, however, always a great danger that patriotism may degenerate into Chauvinism. Against this, universal history, when taught in the right spirit, is the best antidote. A knowledge of universal history is an admirable check on spurious patriotism. In teaching it, it is especially desirable that the contribution which each nation has made to the progress of the world be noted and emphasized. Let the teacher speak of the early development of the literature and of the inventive spirit of the despised Chinese; of the high civilization which once flourished on the banks of the Nile; of the immortal debt we owe to Greece and Rome and Judea. Let the young be made acquainted with the important services which Ireland rendered to European culture in the early part of the middle ages. Let them learn, however briefly, of the part which France played in the overthrow of feudalism, of the wealth of German science and literature and philosophy; let them know how much mankind owes to the Parliaments of England, and to the stout heart and strong sense which made parliaments possible. It is not by underrating others, but by duly estimating and appreciating their achievements, that we shall find ourselves challenged to bring forth what is best in ourselves. There is still another reason why, especially in American schools, the teaching of universal history should receive far greater attention than hitherto has been accorded to it. The American people are imbued with the belief that they have a problem to solve for all mankind. They have set out to demonstrate in the face of doubt and adverse criticism the possibility of popular self-government. They have thus consecrated their national life to a sublime humanitarian idea. And the sense of this consecration, echoing in the utterances of many of their leading statesmen, has more or less permeated the whole people. But the mission thus assumed, like the burden on the shoulders of Christophorus, is becoming heavier at every step. The best citizens recognize that the problem of popular self-government, so far from being solved, is but beginning to disclose itself in all its vast complexity, and they realize more than ever how necessary it is to get every possible help from the example and experience of older nations. The political lessons of the past can not indeed be mastered in the public schools. But a preliminary interest in European history may be created, which will pave the way for profitable study later on. Furthermore, the American people have extended a most liberal invitation to members of other nationalities (with few restrictions, and these of recent origin) to come and join in working out the destinies of the new continent. Not only is an asylum granted to the oppressed--this were the lesser boon--but the gates of citizenship have been opened wide to the new-comers. What does this mean, if not that the foreigners who come, unless indeed they belong to the weak and dependent classes, are wanted; and wanted not only in their capacity as workers to aid in developing the material resources of the country, but as citizens, to help in perfecting what is still imperfect, to assist in building up in time, on American soil, the true republic. In return for this privilege the citizens of foreign birth owe it to their adopted country to place the best of their racial gifts at its service. Much that the citizens of foreign birth bring with them, indeed, will have to be eliminated, but, on the other hand, many of their traits will probably enter as constituent elements into the national character. The Anglo-Saxon race has now the lead, and will doubtless keep it. But in the melting-pot of the American commonwealths the elements of many diverse nationalities are being mixed anew, and a new nationality distinctively American is likely to be the final outcome of the process. Thus both the humanitarian ideal and the actual make-up of the people betray a cosmopolitan tendency, and it is this tendency which, more perhaps than anything else, gives to American political life its characteristic physiognomy. If this be so, if the foreign elements are so numerous and likely to be so influential, it is surely important that the foreign races, their character and their history, be studied and understood. Besides explaining the political ideas, I should briefly describe the actual functions of government. Government protects the life and property of its citizens against foreign aggression and violence at home. Government maintains the binding force of contracts. Government reserves to itself the coinage of money, carries the mails, supports public education, etc. In a word, government assumes those functions which can be discharged more satisfactorily or more economically by the joint action of the community than if left to private individuals or corporations. But government also undertakes the duty of protecting the weaker classes against oppression by the stronger, as is shown by factory legislation in the interest of women and minors. How far this function may profitably be extended is open to discussion; but that it has been assumed in all civilized countries is a fact which should be noted. FOOTNOTES: [20] _Vide_ Dole, "The American Citizen." [21] See remarks on this subject in the third lecture. XVI. THE USE OF PROVERBS AND SPEECHES. For the use of my classes I have made a collection of proverbs from the Bible, from Buddha's Dhammapada, from the Encheiridion of Epictetus, the Imitation of Christ, and other ancient and modern sources. Some of these belong to the advanced course, others can be used in the grammar course. I have time to mention only a few, in order to illustrate the method of using them. The habit of committing proverbs or golden sayings to memory without a previous analysis of their meaning serves no good purpose whatever. Proverbs are the condensed expression of the moral experience of generations. The teacher should search out the experiences to which the proverbs refer. Proverbs may be compared to those delicate Eastern fabrics which can be folded up into the smallest compass, but which, when unfolded, are seen to cover a large space. The teacher should explore the territory covered by the proverb. Take, for example, such a saying as this, "Blessed be he who has the good eye." What is the good eye? The eye that sees the good in others. Is it easy to see the good in others? Yes, if we are fond of them; but if we are not, we are likely to see only the evil. But suppose there is no good to be seen, at least not on the surface; why, then the good eye is that which sees the good beneath the surface, which, like the divining-rod, shows where in human character gold lies buried, and helps us to penetrate to it. But even this does not exhaust the meaning of the proverb. The good eye is that which, as it were, sees the good into others, sends its good influence into them, makes them good by believing them to be so. The good eye is a creative eye. Or take the proverb, "A falsehood is like pebbles in the mouth." Why not say a falsehood is like a pebble? No, one falsehood is like many pebbles. For every falsehood tends to multiply itself, and each separate falsehood is like a pebble--not like bread, which we can assimilate, but like a stone, a foreign body, alien to our nature. Moreover, the proverb says, A falsehood is like pebbles in the mouth; which means that these stony falsehoods will choke us, choke the better life in us, unless we cast them out. Again, take such sayings as these from the Dhammapada: "As rain breaks through an ill-thatched house, passion will break through an unreflecting mind." Explain what kind of reflection is needed to keep off passion. "He who is well subdued may subdue others." Show what kind of self-control is meant, and in what sense others are to be subdued. "He who holds back anger like a rolling chariot, him I call a real driver; other people are but holding the reins." "Let a man overcome anger by love; let him overcome evil by good; let him overcome the greedy by liberality, the liar by truth." Describe the sort of brake by means of which the rolling chariot of anger may be checked in mid-course, and the efficacy of goodness in overcoming evil. From the Encheiridion it occurs to me to mention the saying, "Everything has two handles: the one by which it can be borne, the other by which it can not be borne." Epictetus himself gives an illustration: "If your brother acts unjustly toward you, do not lay hold of the act by that handle wherein he acts unjustly, for that is the handle by which it can not be borne; but lay hold of the other, that he is your brother, and you will lay hold of the thing by that handle by which it can be borne." There are also many other illustrations of this noble maxim. Disappointment has two handles, the one by which it can be borne, the other by which it can not. Affliction has two handles. Illustrate profusely; search out the meaning in detail. There is a mine of practical wisdom in these sayings. There exist proverbs relating to all the various duties which have been discussed in our course; proverbs relating to the pursuit of knowledge; many and beautiful proverbs on the filial and fraternal duties, on courage, on humility, on the importance of keeping promises, on kindness to animals, on the moral end of civil society. Proverbs should be classified under their proper heads and used as occasion offers. Permit me, however, to add one word of caution. It is a mistake to teach too many proverbs at a time, to overload the pupil's mind with them. The proverbs selected should be brief, pithy, and profoundly significant. But there should not be too many at a time. It is better to return to the same proverb often, and to penetrate deeper into its meaning every time. The value of the proverbs is that they serve as pegs in the memory, to which long chains of moral reflection can be attached. They are guide-posts pointing with their short arms to the road of duty; they are voices of mankind uttering impressive warnings, and giving clear direction in moments when the promptings of self-interest or the mists of passion would be likely to lead us astray. It may also be well to select a number of speeches which embody high moral sentiments, like some of the speeches of Isaiah, the speech of Socrates before his judges, and others, and, after having explained their meaning, to cause them to be recited by the pupils. Just as the delivery of patriotic speeches is found useful for inculcating patriotic sentiments, so such speeches as these will tend to quicken the moral sentiments. He who repeats the speech of another for the time being puts on the character of the other. The sentiments which are uttered by the lips live for the moment in the heart, and leave their mark there. XVII. THE INDIVIDUALIZATION OF MORAL TEACHING. This subject is of the greatest importance. It really requires extended and careful treatment, but a few hints must suffice. The teacher should remember that he is educating not boys and girls in general, but particular boys and girls, each of whom has particular faults needing to be corrected and actual or potential virtues to be developed and encouraged. Therefore a conscientious study of the character of the pupils is necessary. This constitutes an additional reason why moral instruction should be given in a daily school rather than in a Sunday school, the opportunities for the study of character being vastly better in the former than they can possibly be in the latter. The teacher who gives the moral lessons, in undertaking this study, should solicit the co-operation of all the other teachers of the school. He should request from time to time from each of his fellow-teachers reports stating the good and bad traits observed in each pupil, or rather the facts on which the various teachers base their estimates of the good and bad qualities of the scholars; for the opinions of teachers are sometimes unreliable, are sometimes discolored by prejudice, while facts tell their own story. These facts should be collated by the moral teacher, and, with them as a basis, he may endeavor to work out a kind of chart of the character of each of his pupils. It goes without saying, that he should also seek the co-operation of the parents, for the purpose of discovering what characteristic traits the pupil displays at home; and if the reputation which a pupil bears among his companions, can be ascertained without undue prying, this, too, will be found of use in forming an estimate of his disposition. The teacher who knows the special temptations of his pupils will have many opportunities, in the course of the moral lessons, to give them pertinent warnings and advice, without seeming to address them in particular or exposing their faults to the class. He will also be able to exercise a helpful surveillance over their conduct in school, and to become in private their friend and counselor. Moreover, the material thus collected will in time prove serviceable in helping us to a more exact knowledge of the different varieties of human character--a knowledge which would give to the art of ethical training something like a scientific basis.[22] FOOTNOTE: [22] See some remarks on types of character in my lecture on the Punishment of Children. RECAPITULATION. Let us now briefly review the ground we have gone over in the present course. In the five introductory lectures we discussed the problem of unsectarian moral teaching, the efficient motives of good conduct, the opportunities of moral influence in schools, the classification of duties, and the moral status of the child on entering school. In mapping out the primary course we assumed as a starting-point the idea that the child rapidly passes through the same stages of evolution through which the human race has passed, and hence we endeavored to select our material for successive epochs in the child's life from the literature of the corresponding epochs in the life of the race. In regard to the method of instruction, we observed that in the fairy tales the moral element should be touched on incidentally; that in teaching the fables isolated moral qualities should be presented in such a way that the pupil may always thereafter be able to recognize them; while the stories display a number of moral qualities in combination and have the value of moral pictures. In the primary course the object has been to train the moral perceptions; in the grammar course, to work out moral concepts and to formulate rules of conduct. The method of getting at these rules may again be described as follows: Begin with some concrete case, suggest a rule which apparently fits that case or really fits it, adduce other cases which the rule does not fit, change the rule, modify it as often as necessary, until it has been brought into such shape that it will fit every case you can think of. In planning the lessons on duty which make up the subject matter of the grammar course, we took the ground that each period of life has its specific duties, that in each period there is one paramount duty around which the others may be grouped, and that each new system of duties should embrace and absorb the preceding one. It remains for me to add that the illustrations which I have used in the grammar course are intended merely to serve as specimens, and by no means to exclude the use of different illustrative matter which the teacher may find more suitable. Furthermore, I desire to express the hope that it may be possible, without too much difficulty, to eliminate whatever subjective conceptions may be found to have crept into these lessons, and that, due deduction having been made, there may remain a substratum of objective truth which all can accept. It should be remembered that these lectures are not intended to take the place of a text-book, but to serve as a guide to the teacher in preparing his lessons. I hope hereafter to continue the work which has thus been begun. In the advanced course, which is to follow the present one, we shall have to reconsider from a higher point of view many of the subjects already treated, and in addition to take up such topics as the ethics of the professions, the ethics of friendship, conjugal ethics, etc., which have here been omitted. I shall also attempt to indicate the lines for a systematic study of biographies, and to lay out a course of selected readings from the best ethical literature of ancient and modern times. APPENDIX. THE INFLUENCE OF MANUAL TRAINING ON CHARACTER.[23] Manual training has recently been suggested as one of the means of combating the criminal tendency in the young, and this suggestion is being received with increasing favor. But until now the theory of manual training has hardly begun to be worked out. The confidence which is expressed in it is based, for the most part, on unclassified experience. But experience without theory is altogether insufficient. Theory, it is true, without experience is without feet to stand. But experience without the guiding and directing help of theory is without eyes to see. I shall now offer, in a somewhat tentative way, a few remarks intended to be a contribution to the philosophy of manual training as applied to the reformation of delinquent children. I shall confine myself, however, to one type of criminality in children--a not uncommon type--that of moral deterioration arising from weakness of the will. In the first place, let us distinguish between feeling, desiring, and willing. A person who is without food feels hunger. A person who, being hungry, calls up in his mind images of food, will experience a desire. A person who adopts means to obtain food performs an act of the will. A Russian prisoner in Siberia who suffers from the restraints of confinement is in a state of feeling. The same person, when he recalls images of home and friends, is in a state of desire; but when he sets about adopting the means to effect his escape, concerts signals with his fellow-prisoners, undermines the walls of his dungeon, etc., he is performing acts of the will. Permit me to call particular attention to the fact that the will is characterized at its birth by the intellectual factor which enters into it; for the calculation of means to ends is an intellectual process, and every conscious act of volition involves such a process. If the will is thus characterized at its birth, we can at once anticipate the conclusion that any will will be strong in proportion as the intellectual factor in it predominates. It was said by one of the speakers that "an ounce of affection is better than a ton of intellect." Give me a proper mixture of the two. Give me at least an ounce of intellect together with an ounce of affection. There is great danger lest we exaggerate the importance of the emotions for morality. The opinion is widely entertained that good feeling, kind feeling, loving feeling, is the whole of morality, or, at least, the essential factor in it. But this opinion is surely erroneous. The will may be compared to the power which propels a ship through the waves. Feeling is the rudder. The intellect is the helmsman. Let me give illustrations to bring into view the characteristics of a strong and of a weak will. Great inventors, great statesmen, great reformers, illustrate strength of will. We note in them especially tenacity of purpose and a marvelous faculty for adjusting and readjusting means to ends. Persons who are swayed by the sensual appetites illustrate weakness of will. We note in them vacillation of purpose, and the power of adjusting means to ends only in its rudimentary form. The ideas of virtue are complex. No one can illustrate virtue on a high plane unless he is capable of holding in mind long trains and complex groups of ideas. The lowest vices, on the other hand, are distinguished by the circumstance that the ends to which they look are simple, and the means employed often of the crudest kind. Thus, suppose that a person of weak will is hungry. He knows that gold will buy food. He adopts the readiest way to get gold. Incapable of that long and complex method of attaining his end, which is exhibited, for instance, by the farmer who breaks the soil, plants the corn, watches his crops, and systematizes his labors from the year's beginning to its end, he takes the shortest road toward the possession of gold--he stretches forth his hand and takes it where he finds it. The man of weak will, who has a grudge against his rival, is not capable of putting forth a sustained and complex series of efforts toward obtaining satisfaction, for instance, by laboring arduously to outstrip his rival. He is, furthermore, incapable of those larger considerations, those complex groups of ideas relating to society and its permanent interests, which check the angry passions in the educated. He gives free and immediate rein to the passion as it rises. He takes the readiest means of getting satisfaction: he draws the knife and kills. The man of weak will, who burns with sensual desire, assaults the object of his desire. The virtues depend in no small degree on the power of serial and complex thinking. Those vices which are due to weakness of will are characterized by the crudeness of the aim and the crudeness of the means. To strengthen the will, therefore, it is necessary to give to the person of weak will the power to think connectedly, and especially to reach an end by long and complex trains of means. Let us pause here for a moment to elucidate this point by briefly considering a type of criminality which is familiar to all guardians of delinquent children. This type is marked by a group of salient traits, which may be roughly described as follows: Mental incoherency is the first. The thoughts of the child are, as it were, slippery, tending to glide past one another without mutual attachments. A second trait is indolence. A third, deficiency in the sense of shame; to which may be added that the severest punishments fail to act as deterrents. Mental incoherency is the leading trait, and supplies the key for the understanding of the others. Lack of connectedness between ideas is the radical defect. Each idea, as it rises, becomes an impulse, and takes effect to the full limit of its suggestions. A kind thought rises in the mind of such a child, and issues in a demonstrative impulse of affection. Shortly after, a cruel thought may rise in the mind of the same child; and the cruel thought will, in like manner, take effect in a cruel act. Children answering to this type are alternately kind, affectionate, and cruel. The child's indolence is due to the same cause--lack of connectedness between ideas. It is incapable of sustained effort, because every task implies the ability to pass from one idea to related ideas. The child is deficient in shame, because the sense of shame depends on a vivid realization of the idea of self. The idea of self, however, is a complex idea, which is not distinctly and clearly present to such a child. Lastly, the most severe punishments fail to act as deterrents for the same reason. The two impressions left in the mind, "I did a wrong," "I suffered a pain," lie apart. The memory of one does not excite the recollection of the other. The thought of the wrong does not lift permanently into consciousness the thought of the pain which followed. The punishment, as we say, is quickly forgotten. If, therefore, we wish to remedy a deep-seated defect of this kind, if we wish to cure a weak will, in such and all similar cases we must seek to establish a closer connection between the child's ideas. The question may now be asked, Why should we not utilize to this end the ordinary studies of the school curriculum--history, geography, arithmetic, etc.? All of these branches exercise and develop the faculty of serial and complex thinking. Any sum in multiplication gives a training of this kind. Let the task be to multiply a multiplicand of four figures by a multiplier of three. First the child must multiply every figure in the multiplicand by the units of the multiplier and write down the result; then by the tens, and then by the hundreds, and combine these results. Here is a lesson in combination, in serial, and, for a young child, somewhat complex thinking. Let the task be to bound the State of New York. The child must see the mental picture of the State in its relation to other States and parts of States, to lakes and rivers and mountains--a complex group of ideas. Or, let it be required to give a brief account of the American Revolution. Here is a whole series of events, each depending on the preceding ones. Why, then, may we not content ourselves with utilizing the ordinary studies of the school curriculum? There are two reasons. First, because history, geography, and arithmetic are not, as a rule, interesting to young children, especially not to young children of the class with which we are now dealing. These listless minds are not easily roused to an interest in abstractions. Secondly, it is a notorious fact that intellectual culture, pure and simple, is quite consistent with weakness of the will. A person may have very high intellectual attainments, and yet be morally deficient. I need hardly warn my reflective hearers that, when emphasizing the importance for the will of intellectual culture, I had in mind the intellectual process as applied to acts. To cultivate the intellect in its own sphere of contemplation and abstraction, apart from action, may leave the will precisely as feeble as it was before. And now, all that has been said thus far converges upon the point that has been in view from the beginning--the importance of manual training as an element in disciplining the will. Manual training fulfills the conditions I have just alluded to. It is interesting to the young, as history, geography, and arithmetic often are not. Precisely those pupils who take the least interest or show the least aptitude for literary study are often the most proficient in the workshop and the modeling-room. Nature has not left these neglected children without beautiful compensations. If they are deficient in intellectual power, they are all the more capable of being developed on their active side. Thus, manual training fulfills the one essential condition--it is interesting. It also fulfills the second. By manual training we cultivate the intellect in close connection with action. Manual training consists of a series of actions which are controlled by the mind, and which react on it. Let the task assigned be, for instance, the making of a wooden box. The first point to be gained is to attract the attention of the pupil to the task. A wooden box is interesting to a child, hence this first point will be gained. Lethargy is overcome, attention is aroused. Next, it is important to keep the attention fixed on the task: thus only can tenacity of purpose be cultivated. Manual training enables us to keep the attention of the child fixed upon the object of study, because the latter is concrete. Furthermore, the variety of occupations which enter into the making of the box constantly refreshes this interest after it has once been started. The wood must be sawed to line. The boards must be carefully planed and smoothed. The joints must be accurately worked out and fitted. The lid must be attached with hinges. The box must be painted or varnished. Here is a sequence of means leading to an end, a series of operations all pointing to a final object to be gained, to be created. Again, each of these means becomes in turn and for the time being a secondary end; and the pupil thus learns, in an elementary way, the lesson of subordinating minor ends to a major end. And, when finally the task is done, when the box stands before the boy's eyes a complete whole, a serviceable thing, sightly to the eyes, well adapted to its uses, with what a glow of triumph does he contemplate his work! The pleasure of achievement now comes in to crown his labor; and this sense of achievement, in connection with the work done, leaves in his mind a pleasant after-taste, which will stimulate him to similar work in the future. The child that has once acquired, in connection with the making of a box, the habits just described, has begun to master the secret of a strong will, and will be able to apply the same habits in other directions and on other occasions. Or let the task be an artistic one. And let me here say that manual training is incomplete unless it covers art training. Many otherwise excellent and interesting experiments in manual training fail to give satisfaction because they do not include this element. The useful must flower into the beautiful, to be in the highest sense useful. Nor is it necessary to remind those who have given attention to the subject of education how important is the influence of the beautiful is in refining the sentiments and elevating the nature of the young. Let the task, then, be to model a leaf, a vase, a hand, a head. Here again we behold the same advantages as in the making of the box. The object is concrete, and therefore suitable for minds incapable of grasping abstractions. The object can be constantly kept before the pupil's eyes. There is gradual approximation toward completeness, and at last that glow of triumph! What child is not happy if he has produced something tangible, something that is the outgrowth of his own activity, especially if it be something which is charming to every beholder? And now let me briefly summarize certain conclusions to which reflection has led me in regard to the subject of manual training in reformatory institutions. Manual training should be introduced into every reformatory. In New York city we have tested a system of work-shop lessons for children between six and fourteen. There is, I am persuaded, no reason why manual training should not be applied to the youngest children in reformatories. Manual training should always include art training. The labor of the children of reformatories should never be let to contractors. I heartily agree with what was said on that subject this morning. The pupils of reformatories should never make heads of pins or the ninetieth fraction of a shoe. Let there be no machine work. Let the pupils turn out complete articles, for only thus can the full intellectual and moral benefits of manual training be reaped. Agriculture, wherever the opportunities are favorable, offers, on the whole, the same advantages as manual training, and should be employed if possible, in connection with it. I have thus far attempted to show how the will can be made strong. But a strong will is not necessarily a good will. It is true, there are influences in manual training, as it has been described, which are favorable to a virtuous disposition. Squareness in things is not without relation to squareness in action and in thinking. A child that has learned to be exact--that is, truthful--in his work will be predisposed to be scrupulous and truthful in his speech, in his thought, in his acts. The refining and elevating influence of artistic work I have already mentioned. But, along with and over and above all these influences, I need hardly say to you that, in the remarks which I have offered this evening, I have all along taken for granted the continued application of those tried and excellent methods which prevail in our best reformatories. I have taken for granted that isolation from society, which shuts out temptation; that routine of institutional life, which induces regularity of habit; that strict surveillance of the whole body of inmates and of every individual, which prevents excesses of the passions, and therefore starves them into disuse. I have taken for granted the cultivation of the emotions, the importance of which I am the last to undervalue. I have taken for granted the influence of good example, good literature, good music, poetry, and religion. All I have intended to urge is that between good feeling and the realization of good feeling there exists, in persons whose will-power is weak, a hiatus, and that manual training is admirably adapted to fill that hiatus. There is another advantage to be noted in connection with manual training--namely, that it develops the property sense. What, after all, apart from artificial social convention, is the foundation of the right of property? On what basis does it rest? I have a proprietary right in my own thoughts. I have a right to follow my tastes in the adornment of my person and my house. I have a right to the whole sphere of my individuality, my selfhood; and I have a right in _things_ so far as I use them to express my personality. The child that has made a wooden box has put a part of himself into the making of that box--his thought, his patience, his skill, his toil--and therefore the child feels that that box is in a certain sense his own. And as only those who have the sense of ownership are likely to respect the right of ownership in others, we may by manual training cultivate the property sense of the child; and this, in the case of the delinquent child, it will be admitted, is no small advantage. I have confined myself till now to speaking of the importance of manual training in its influence on the character of delinquent children. I wish to add a few words touching the influence of manual training on character in general, and its importance for children of all classes of society. I need not here speak of the value of manual training to the artisan class. That has been amply demonstrated of late by the many technical and art schools which the leading manufacturing nations of Europe have established and are establishing. I need not speak of the value of manual training to the future surgeon, dentist, scientist, and to all those who require deftness of hand in the pursuit of their vocations. But I do wish to speak of the value of manual training to the future lawyer and clergyman, and to all those who will perhaps never be called upon to labor with their hands. Precisely because they will not labor with their hands is manual training so important for them--in the interest of an all-round culture--in order that they may not be entirely crippled on one side of their nature. The Greek legend says that the giant Antæus was invincible so long as his feet were planted on the solid earth. We need to have a care that our civilization shall remain planted on the solid earth. There is danger lest it may be developed too much into the air--that we may become too much separated from those primal sources of strength from which mankind has always drawn its vitality. The English nobility have deliberately adopted hunting as their favorite pastime. They follow as a matter of physical exercise, in order to keep up their physical strength, a pursuit which the savage man followed from necessity. The introduction of athletics in colleges is a move in the same direction. But it is not sufficient to maintain our physical strength, our brute strength, the strength of limb and muscle. We must also preserve that spiritualized strength which we call skill--the tool-using faculty, the power of impressing on matter the stamp of mind. And the more machinery takes the place of human labor, the more necessary will it be to resort to manual training as a means of keeping up skill, precisely as we have resorted to athletics as a means of keeping up strength. There is one word more I have to say in closing. Twenty-five years ago, as the recent memories of Gettysburg recall to us, we fought to keep this people a united nation. Then was State arrayed against State. To-day class is beginning to be arrayed against class. The danger is not yet imminent, but it is sufficiently great to give us thought. The chief source of the danger, I think, lies in this, that the two classes of society have become so widely separated by difference of interests and pursuits that they no longer fully understand one another, and misunderstanding is the fruitful source of hatred and dissension. This must not continue. The manual laborer must have time and opportunity for intellectual improvement. The intellectual classes, on the other hand, must learn manual labor; and this they can best do in early youth, in the school, before the differentiation of pursuits has yet begun. Our common schools are rightly so named. The justification of their support by the State is not, I think, as is sometimes argued, that the State should give a sufficient education to each voter to enable him at least to read the ballot which he deposits. This is but a poor equipment for citizenship at best. The justification for the existence of our common schools lies rather in the bond of common feeling which they create between the different classes of society. And it is this bond of common feeling woven in childhood that has kept and must keep us a united people. Let manual training, therefore, be introduced into the common schools; let the son of the rich man learn, side by side with the son of the poor man, to labor with his hands; let him thus practically learn to respect labor; let him learn to understand what the dignity of manual labor really means, and the two classes of society, united at the root, will never thereafter entirely grow asunder. A short time ago I spent an afternoon with a poet whose fame is familiar to all. There was present in the company a gentleman of large means, who, in the course of conversation, descanted upon the merits of the protective system, and spoke in glowing terms of the growth of the industries of his State and of the immense wealth which is being accumulated in its large cities. The aged poet turned to him, and said: "That is all very well. I like your industries and your factories and your wealth; but, tell me, do they turn out men down your way?" That is the question which we are bound to consider. _Is this civilization of ours turning out men_--manly men and womanly women? Now, it is a cheering and encouraging thought that technical labor, which is the source of our material aggrandizement, may also become, when employed in the education of the young, the means of enlarging their manhood, quickening their intellect, and strengthening their character. THE END. FOOTNOTE: [23] An address delivered before the National Conference of Charities and Correction, at Buffalo, July, 1888. D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. MISCELLANEOUS WORKS OF HERBERT SPENCER. _EDUCATION: Intellectual, Moral, and Physical._ 12mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.25. CONTENTS: What Knowledge is of most Worth?--Intellectual Education.--Moral Education.--Physical Education. _SOCIAL STATICS._ By HERBERT SPENCER. New and revised edition, including "The Man _versus_ the State," a series of essays on political tendencies heretofore published separately. 12mo. 420 pages. Cloth, $2.00. Having been much annoyed by the persistent quotation from the old edition of "Social Statics," in the face of repeated warnings, of views which he had abandoned, and by the misquotation of others which he still holds, Mr. Spencer some ten years ago stopped the sale of the book in England and prohibited its translation. But the rapid spread of communistic theories gave new life to these misrepresentations; hence Mr. Spencer decided to delay no longer a statement of his mature opinions on the rights of individuals and the duty of the state. CONTENTS: Happiness as an Immediate Aim.--Unguided Expediency.--The Moral-Sense Doctrine.--What is Morality?--The Evanescence [? Diminution] of Evil.--Greatest Happiness must be sought indirectly.--Derivation of a First Principle.--Secondary Derivation of a First Principle.--First Principle.--Application of this First Principle.--The Right of Property.--Socialism.--The Right of Property in Ideas.--The Rights of Women.--The Rights of Children.--Political Rights.--The Constitution of the State.--The Duty of the State.--The Limit of State-Duty.--The Regulation of Commerce.--Religious Establishments.--Poor-Laws.--National Education.--Government Colonization.--Sanitary Supervision.--Currency Postal Arrangements, etc.--General Considerations.--The New Toryism.--The Coming Slavery.--The Sins of Legislators.--The Great Political Superstition. _THE STUDY OF SOCIOLOGY._ The fifth volume in the International Scientific Series. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. CONTENTS: Our Need of it--Is there a Social Science?--Nature of the Social Science.--Difficulties of the Social Science.--Objective Difficulties.--Subjective Difficulties, Intellectual.--Subjective Difficulties, Emotional.--The Educational Bias--The Bias of Patriotism.--The Class-Bias.--The Political Bias.--The Theological Bias.--Discipline.--Preparation in Biology.--Preparation in Psychology.--Conclusion. New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street. "This work marks an epoch in the history-writing of this country."--_St. Louis Post-Dispatch._ [Illustration: COLONIAL COURT-HOUSE. PHILADELPHIA, 1707.] _THE HOUSEHOLD HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES AND ITS PEOPLE._ FOR YOUNG AMERICANS. By EDWARD EGGLESTON. Richly illustrated with 350 Drawings, 75 Maps, etc. Square 8vo. Cloth, $2.50. _FROM THE PREFACE._ The present work is meant, in the first instance, for the young--not alone for boys and girls, but for young men and women who have yet to make themselves familiar with the more important features of their country's history. By a book for the young is meant one in which the author studies to make his statements clear and explicit, in which curious and picturesque details are inserted, and in which the writer does not neglect such anecdotes as lend the charm of a human and personal interest to the broader facts of the nation's story. That history is often tiresome to the young is not so much the fault of history as of a false method of writing by which one contrives to relate events without sympathy or imagination, without narrative connection or animation. The attempt to master vague and general records of kiln-dried facts is certain to beget in the ordinary reader a repulsion from the study of history--one of the most important of all studies for its widening influence on general culture. [Illustration: INDIAN'S TRAP.] "Fills a decided gap which has existed for the past twenty years in American historical literature. The work is admirably planned and executed, and will at once take its place as a standard record of the life, growth, and development of the nation. It is profusely and beautifully illustrated."--_Boston Transcript._ "The book in its new dress makes a much finer appearance than before, and will be welcomed by older readers as gladly as its predecessor was greeted by girls and boys. The lavish use the publishers have made of colored plates, woodcuts, and photographic reproductions, gives an unwonted piquancy to the printed page, catching the eye as surely as the text engages the mind."--_New York Critic._ [Illustration: GENERAL PUTNAM.] "The author writes history as a story. It can never be less than that. The book will enlist the interest of young people, enlighten their understanding, and by the glow of its statements fix the great events of the country firmly in the mind."--_San Francisco Bulletin._ New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
22251	----	Transcribers Note: The spelling in this text has been preserved as in the original. Obvious printer's errors have been corrected. You can find a list of the corrections made at the end of this e-text. Chapter IX is the additional chapter on "The First Day in School" mentioned on the title page. There is no entry in the Table of Contents for this chapter. * * * * * THE TEACHER: Or Moral Influences Employed in the Instruction and Government of the Young. New Stereotype Edition; With an Additional Chapter on "The First Day in School." * * * * * By JACOB ABBOTT, Late Principal of the Mt. Vernon Female School, Boston, Mass. * * * * * BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY WHIPPLE AND DAMRELL, No. 9 CORNHILL. 1839. * * * * * Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by JACOB ABBOTT, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. * * * * * POWER PRESS OF WILLIAM S. DAMRELL. TO THE TRUSTEES AND PATRONS OF THE MT. VERNON FEMALE SCHOOL, BOSTON. GENTLEMEN: It is to efforts which you have made in the cause of education, with special regard to its moral and religious aspects, that I have been indebted for the opportunity to test by experiment, under the most pleasant and favorable circumstances, the principles which form the basis of this work. To you, therefore, it is respectfully inscribed, as one of the indirect results of your own exertions to promote the best interests of the Young. I am very sincerely and respectfully yours, THE AUTHOR. PREFACE. This book is intended to detail, in a familiar and practical manner, a system of arrangements for the organization and management of a school, based on the employment, so far as is practicable, of _Moral Influences_, as a means of effecting the objects in view. Its design is, not to bring forward new theories or new plans, but to develope and explain, and to carry out to their practical applications, such principles as, among all skilful and experienced teachers, are generally admitted and acted upon. Of course it is not designed for the skilful and the experienced themselves; but it is intended to embody what they already know, and to present it in a practical form, for the use of those who are beginning the work and who wish to avail themselves of the experience which others have acquired. Although moral influences, are the chief foundations on which the power of the teacher over the minds and hearts of his pupils is, according to this treatise, to rest, still it must not be imagined that the system here recommended is one of persuasion. It is a system of authority,--supreme and unlimited authority, a point essential in all plans for the supervision of the young. But it is authority secured and maintained as far as possible by moral measures. There will be no dispute about the propriety of making the most of this class of means. Whatever difference of opinion there may be, on the question whether physical force, is necessary at all, every one will agree that, if ever employed, it must be only as a last resort, and that no teacher ought to make war upon the body, unless it is proved that he cannot conquer through the medium of the mind. In regard to the anecdotes and narratives which are very freely introduced to illustrate principles in this work, the writer ought to state, that though they are all substantially true, that is, all except those which are expressly introduced as mere suppositions, he has not hesitated to alter very freely, for obvious reasons, the unimportant circumstances connected with them. He has endeavored thus to destroy the personality of the narratives, without injuring or altering their moral effect. From the very nature of our employment, and of the circumstances under which the preparation for it must be made, it is plain that, of the many thousands who are, in the United States, annually entering the work, a very large majority must depend for all their knowledge of the art except what they acquire from their own observation and experience, on what they can obtain from books. It is desirable that the class of works from which such knowledge can be obtained should be increased. Some excellent and highly useful specimens have already appeared, and very many more would be eagerly read by teachers, if properly prepared. It is essential however that they should be written by experienced teachers, who have for some years been actively engaged, and specially interested in the work;--that they should be written in a very practical and familiar style,--and that they should exhibit principles which are unquestionably true, and generally admitted by good teachers, and not the new theories peculiar to the writer himself. In a word, utility, and practical effect, should be the only aim. Boston, June 20, 1833. CONTENTS CHAPTER I.--INTEREST IN TEACHING. Source of enjoyment in teaching. The boy and the steam engine. His contrivance. His pleasure, and the source of it. Firing at the mark. Plan of clearing the galleries in the British House Of Commons. Pleasure of experimenting, and exercising intellectual and moral power. The indifferent, and inactive teacher. His subsequent experiments; means of awakening interest. Offences of pupils. Different ways of regarding them. Teaching really attended with peculiar trials and difficulties. 1. Moral responsibility for the conduct of pupils. 2. Multiplicity of the objects of attention. Page 11 CHAPTER II.--GENERAL ARRANGEMENTS. Objects to be aimed at, in the General Arrangements. Systematising the teacher's work. Necessity of having only one thing to attend to at a time. 1. Whispering and leaving seats. An experiment. Method of regulating this. Introduction of the new plan. Difficulties. Dialogue with pupils. Study card. Construction and use. 2. Mending pens. Unnecessary trouble from this source. Degree of importance to be attached to good pens. Plan for providing them. 3. Answering questions. Evils. Each pupil's fair proportion of time. Questions about lessons. When the teacher should refuse to answer them. Rendering assistance. When to be refused. 4. Hearing recitations. Regular arrangement of them. Punctuality. Plan and schedule. General Exercises. Subjects to be attended to at them. General arrangements of Government. Power to be delegated to pupils. Gardiner Lyceum. Its government. The trial. Real republican government impracticable in schools. Delegated power. Experiment with the writing books. Quarrel about the nail. Offices for pupils. Cautions. Danger of insubordination. New plans to be introduced gradually. 29 CHAPTER III.--INSTRUCTION. The three important branches. The objects which are really most important. Advanced scholars. Examination of school and scholars at the outset. Acting on numbers. Extent to which it may be carried. Recitation and Instruction. 1. Recitation. Its object. Importance of a thorough examination of the class. Various modes. Perfect regularity and order necessary. Example. Story of the pencils. Time wasted by too minute an attention to individuals. Example. Answers given simultaneously to save time. Excuses. Dangers in simultaneous recitation. Means of avoiding them. Advantages of this mode. Examples. Written answers. 2. Instruction. Means of exciting interest. Variety. Examples. Showing the connexion between the studies of school and the business of life. Example, from the controversy between General and State Governments. Mode of illustrating it. Proper way of meeting difficulties. Leading pupils to surmount them. True way to encourage the young to meet difficulties. The boy and the wheelbarrow. Difficult examples in Arithmetic. Proper way of rendering assistance. (1.) Simply analyzing intricate subjects. Dialogue on longitude. (2.) Making previous truths perfectly familiar. Experiment with the Multiplication table. Latin Grammar lesson. Geometry. 3. General cautions. Doing work for the scholar. Dulness. Interest in all the pupils. Making all alike. Faults of pupils. The teacher's own mental habits. False pretensions. 64 CHAPTER IV.--MORAL DISCIPLINE. First impressions. Story. Danger of devoting too much attention to individual instances. The profane boy. Case described. Confession of the boys. Success. The untidy desk. Measures in consequence. Interesting the scholars in the good order of the school. Securing a majority. Example. Reports about the desks. The new College building. Modes of interesting the boys. The irregular class. Two ways of remedying the evil. Boys' love of system and regularity. Object of securing a majority, and particular means of doing it. Making school pleasant. Discipline should generally be private. In all cases that are brought before the school, public opinion in the teacher's favor should be secured. Story of the rescue. Feelings of displeasure against what is wrong. The teacher under moral obligation, and governed, himself, by law. Description of the _Moral Exercise_. Prejudice. The scholars' written remarks, and the teacher's comments. The spider. List of subjects. Anonymous writing. Specimens. Marks of a bad scholar. Consequences of being behindhand. New scholars. A Satirical spirit. Variety. Treatment of individual offenders. Ascertaining who they are. Studying their characters. Securing their personal attachment. Asking assistance. The whistle. Open, frank dealing. Example. Dialogue with James. Communications in writing. 105 CHAPTER V.--RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE. The American mechanic at Paris. A congregational teacher among Quakers. Parents have the ultimate right to decide how their children shall be educated. Agreement in religious opinion, in this country. Principle which is to guide the teacher on this subject. Limits and restrictions to religious influence in school. Religious truths which are generally admitted in this country. The existence of God. Human responsibility. Immortality of the soul. A revelation. Nature of piety. Salvation by Christ. Teacher to do nothing on this subject but what he may do by the common consent of his employers. Reasons for explaining distinctly these limits. Particular measures proposed. Opening exercises. Prayer. Singing. Direct instruction. Mode of giving it. Example; arrangement of the Epistles in the New Testament. Dialogue. Another example; scene in the woods. Cautions. Affected simplicity of language. Evils of it. Minute details. Example; motives to study. Dialogue. Mingling religious influence with the direct discipline of the school. Fallacious indications of piety. Sincerity of the Teacher. 152 CHAPTER VI.--MT. VERNON SCHOOL. Reason for inserting the description. Advantage of visiting schools; and of reading descriptions of them. Addressed to a new scholar. 1. Her personal duty. Study card. Rule. But one rule. Cases when this rule may be waived. 1. At the direction of teachers. 2. On extraordinary emergencies. Reasons for the rule. Anecdote. Punishments. Incident described. Confession. 2. Order of Daily Exercises. Opening of the school. Schedules. Hours of study and recess. General Exercises. Business. Examples. Sections. 3. Instruction and supervision of pupils. Classes. Organization. Sections. Duties of superintendents. 4. Officers. Design in appointing them. Their names and duties. Example of the operation of the system. 5. The Court. Its plan and design. A trial described. 6. Religious Instruction. Principles inculcated. Measures. Religious exercises in school. Meeting on Saturday afternoon. Concluding remarks. 181 CHAPTER VII.--SCHEMING. Time lost upon fruitless schemes. Proper province of ingenuity and enterprise. Cautions. Case supposed. The spelling class; an experiment with it; its success and its consequences. System of literary institutions in this country. Directions to a young teacher on the subject of forming new plans. New institutions; new school books. Ingenuity and enterprise very useful, within proper limits. Ways of making known new plans. Periodicals. Family newspapers. Teacher's meetings. Rights of Committees, Trustees, or Patrons, in the control of the school. Principle which ought to govern. Case supposed. Extent to which the teacher is bound by the wishes of his employers. 221 CHAPTER VIII.--REPORTS OF CASES. Plan of the Chapter. Hats and Bonnets. Injury to clothes. Mistakes which are not censurable. Tardiness; plan for punishing it. Helen's lesson. Firmness in measures united with mildness of manner. Insincere confession: scene in a class. Court. Trial of a case. Teacher's personal character. The way to elevate the character of the employment. Six hours only to be devoted to school. The Chestnut Burr. Scene in the wood. Dialogue in school. An experiment. Series of Lessons in writing. The correspondence. Two kinds of management. Plan of weekly reports. The shopping exercise. Example. Artifices in Recitations. Keeping Resolutions; notes of Teacher's Lecture. Topics. Plan and illustration of the exercise. Introduction of music. Tabu. Mental Analysis. Scene in a class. 242 THE TEACHER. CHAPTER I. INTEREST IN TEACHING. There is a most singular contrariety of opinion prevailing in the community, in regard to the _pleasantness_ of the business of teaching. Some teachers go to their daily task, merely upon compulsion: they regard it as intolerable drudgery. Others love the work: they hover around the school-room as long as they can, and never cease to think, and seldom to talk, of their delightful labors. Unfortunately there are too many of the former class, and the first object, which, in this work, I shall attempt to accomplish, is to show my readers, especially those who have been accustomed to look upon the business of teaching as a weary and heartless toil, how it happens, that it is, in any case, so pleasant. The human mind is always, essentially, the same. That which is tedious and joyless to one, will be so to another, if pursued in the same way, and under the same circumstances. And teaching, if it is pleasant, animating, and exciting to one, may be so to all. I am met, however, at the outset, in my effort to show why it is that teaching is ever a pleasant work, by the want of a name for a certain faculty or capacity of the human mind, through which most of the enjoyment of teaching finds its avenue. Every mind is so constituted as to take a positive pleasure in the exercise of ingenuity in adapting means to an end, and in watching their operation;--in accomplishing by the intervention of instruments, what we could not accomplish without;--in devising, (when we see an object to be effected, which is too great for our _direct_ and _immediate_ power) and setting at work, some _instrumentality_, which may be sufficient to accomplish it. It is said, that, when the steam engine was first put into operation, such was the imperfection of the machinery, that a boy was necessarily stationed at it, to open and shut alternately the cock, by which the steam was now admitted, and now shut out, from the cylinder. One such boy, after patiently doing his work for many days, contrived to connect this stop-cock with some of the moving parts of the engine, by a wire, in such a manner, that the engine itself did the work which had been entrusted to him; and after seeing that the whole business would go regularly forward, he left the wire in charge, and went away to play. Such is the story. Now if it is true, how much pleasure the boy must have experienced, in devising and witnessing the successful operation of his scheme; I do not mean the pleasure of relieving himself from a dull and wearisome duty; I do not mean the pleasure of anticipated play; but I mean the strong interest he must have taken in _contriving_ and _executing_ his plan. When, wearied out with his dull, monotonous work, he first noticed those movements of the machinery which he thought adapted to his purpose, and the plan flashed into his mind, how must his eye have brightened, and how quick must the weary listlessness of his employment have vanished. While he was maturing his plan, and carrying it into execution;--while adjusting his wires, fitting them to the exact length, and to the exact position,--and especially, when, at last, he watches the first successful operation of his contrivance,--he must have enjoyed a pleasure, which very few, even of the joyous sports of childhood, could have supplied. It is not, however, exactly the pleasure of exercising _ingenuity in contrivance_, that I refer to here; for the teacher has not, after all, a great deal of absolute contriving to do,--or rather his _principal business_ is not contriving. The greatest and most permanent source of pleasure to the boy, in such a case as I have described, is his feeling that he is accomplishing a great effect by a slight effort of his own; the feeling of power; acting through the _intervention of instrumentality_, so as to multiply his power. So great would be this satisfaction, that he would almost wish to have some other similar work assigned him, that he might have another opportunity to contrive some plan for its easy accomplishment. Looking at an object to be accomplished, or an evil to be remedied, then studying its nature and extent, and devising and executing some means for effecting the purpose desired, is, in all cases, a source of pleasure; especially when, by the process, we bring to view or to operation, new powers, or powers heretofore hidden, whether they are our own powers, or those of objects upon which we act. Experimenting has a sort of magical fascination for all. Some do not like the trouble of making preparations, but all are eager to see the results. Contrive a new machine, and every body will be interested to witness, or to hear of its operation;--develope any heretofore unknown properties of matter, or secure some new useful effect, from laws which men have not hitherto employed for their purposes, and the interest of all around you will be excited to observe your results;--and especially, you will yourself take a deep and permanent pleasure, in guiding and controlling the power you have thus obtained. This is peculiarly the case with experiments upon mind, or experiments for producing effects through the medium of voluntary acts of the human mind, so that the contriver must take into consideration the laws of mind in forming his plans. To illustrate this by rather a childish case: I once knew a boy who was employed by his father to remove all the loose small stones, which, from the peculiar nature of the ground, had accumulated in the road before the house. He was to take them up, and throw them over into the pasture, across the way. He soon got tired of picking them up one by one, and sat down upon the bank, to try to devise some better means of accomplishing his work. He at length conceived and adopted the following plan. He set up, in the pasture, a narrow board, for a target, or as boys would call it, a mark,--and then, collecting all the boys of the neighborhood, he proposed to them an amusement, which boys are always ready for,--firing at a mark. I need not say that the stores of ammunition in the street were soon exhausted; the boys working for their leader, when they supposed they were only finding amusement for themselves. Here now, is experimenting upon the mind;--the production of useful effect with rapidity and ease, by the intervention of proper instrumentality;--the conversion, by means of a little knowledge of human nature, of that which would have otherwise been dull and fatiguing labor, into a most animating sport, giving pleasure to twenty, instead of tedious labor to one. Now the contrivance and execution of such plans is a source of positive pleasure; it is always pleasant to bring the properties and powers of matter into requisition to promote our designs,--but there is a far higher pleasure in controlling, and guiding, and moulding to our purpose the movements of mind. It is this which gives interest to the plans and operation of human governments. They can do little by actual force. Nearly all the power that is held, even by the most despotic executive, must be based on an adroit management of the principles of human nature, so as to lead men voluntarily to cooperate with the ruler, in his plans. Even an army could not be got into battle, in many cases, without a most ingenious arrangement, by means of which half a dozen men can drive, literally drive, as many thousands, into the very face of danger and death. The difficulty of leading men to battle must have been for a long time a very perplexing one to generals. It was at last removed by the very simple expedient of creating a greater danger behind than there is before. Without ingenuity of contrivance like this,--turning one principle of human nature against another, and making it for the momentary interest of men to act in a given way, no government could stand a year. I know of nothing which illustrates more perfectly the way by which a knowledge of human nature is to be turned to account in managing human minds, than a plan which was adopted for clearing the galleries of the British House of Commons, as it was described to me by a gentleman who had visited London. It is well known that the gallery is appropriated to spectators, and that it sometimes becomes necessary to order them to retire, when a vote is to be taken, or private business is to be transacted. When the officer in attendance was ordered to clear the gallery, it was sometimes found to be a very troublesome and slow operation; for those who first went out, remained obstinately as close to the doors as possible, so as to secure the opportunity to come in again first, when the doors should be re-opened. The consequence was, there was so great an accumulation around the doors outside, that it was almost impossible for the crowd to get out. The whole difficulty arose from the eager desire of every one to remain as near as possible to the door, _through which they were to come back again_. I have been told, that, notwithstanding the utmost efforts of the officers, fifteen minutes were sometimes consumed in effecting the object, when the order was given that the spectators should retire. The whole difficulty was removed by a very simple plan. One door only was opened when the crowd was to retire, and they were then admitted through the other. The consequence was, that as soon as the order was given to clear the galleries, every one fled as fast as possible through the open door around to the one which was closed, so as to be ready to enter first, when that, in its turn, should be opened; this was usually in a few minutes, as the purpose for which the spectators were ordered to retire was usually simply to allow time for taking a vote. Here it will be seen that by the operation of a very simple plan, the very eagerness of the crowd to get back as soon as possible, which had been the _sole cause of the difficulty_, was turned to account most effectually to remove it. Before, they were so eager to return, that they crowded around the door so as to prevent others going out. But by this simple plan of ejecting them by one door, and admitting them by another, that very circumstance made them clear the passage at once, and hurried every one away into the lobby, the moment the command was given. The planner of this scheme must have taken great pleasure in seeing its successful operation; though the officer who should go steadily on, endeavoring to remove the reluctant throng by dint of mere driving, might well have found his task unpleasant. But the exercise of ingenuity in studying the nature of the difficulty with which a man has to contend, and bringing in some antagonist principle of human nature to remove it, or if not an antagonist principle, a similar principle, operating, by a peculiar arrangement of circumstances, in an antagonist manner, is always pleasant. From this source a large share of the enjoyment which men find in the active pursuits of life, has its origin. The teacher has the whole field, which this subject opens, fully before him. He has human nature to deal with, most directly. His whole work is experimenting upon mind; and the mind which is before him to be the subject of his operation, is exactly in the state to be most easily and pleasantly operated upon. The reason now why some teachers find their work delightful, and some find it wearisomeness and tedium itself, is that some do, and some do not take this view of their work. One instructer is like the engine-boy, turning without cessation or change, his everlasting stop-cock, in the same ceaseless, mechanical, and monotonous routine. Another is like the little workman in his brighter moments, fixing his invention and watching with delight its successful and easy accomplishment of his wishes. One is like the officer, driving by vociferations and threats, and demonstrations of violence, the spectators from the galleries. The other, like the shrewd contriver, who converts the very cause which was the whole ground of the difficulty, to a most successful and efficient means of its removal. These principles show how teaching may, in some cases, be a delightful employment, while in others, its tasteless dulness is interrupted by nothing but its perplexities and cares. The school-room is in reality, a little empire of mind. If the one who presides in it, sees it in its true light; studies the nature and tendency of the minds which he has to control; adapts his plans and his measures to the laws of human nature, and endeavors to accomplish his purposes for them, not by mere labor and force, but by ingenuity and enterprise; he will take pleasure in administering his little government. He will watch, with care and interest, the operation of the moral and intellectual causes which he sets in operation; and find, as he accomplishes his various objects with increasing facility and power, that he will derive a greater and greater pleasure from his work. Now when a teacher thus looks upon his school as a field in which he is to exercise skill and ingenuity and enterprise; when he studies the laws of human nature, and the character of those minds upon which he has to act; when he explores deliberately the nature of the field which he has to cultivate, and of the objects which he wishes to accomplish; and applies means, judiciously and skilfully adapted to the object; he must necessarily take a strong interest in his work. But when, on the other hand, he goes to his employment, only to perform a certain regular round of daily work, undertaking nothing, and anticipating nothing but this dull and unchangeable routine; and when he looks upon his pupils merely as passive objects of his labors, whom he is to treat with simple indifference while they obey his commands, and to whom he is only to apply reproaches and punishment when they disobey; such a teacher never can take pleasure in the school. Weariness and dulness must reign in both master and scholars, when things, as he imagines, are going right; and mutual anger and crimination, when they go wrong. Scholars never can be instructed by the power of any dull mechanical routine; nor can they be governed by the blind, naked strength of the master; such means must fail of the accomplishment of the purposes designed, and consequently the teacher who tries such a course must have constantly upon his mind the discouraging, disheartening burden of unsuccessful and almost useless labor. He is continually uneasy, dissatisfied and filled with anxious cares; and sources of vexation and perplexity continually arise. He attempts to remove evils by waging against them a useless and most vexatious warfare of threatening and punishment; and he is trying continually _to drive_, when he might know that neither the intellect nor the heart are capable of being driven. I will simply state one case, to illustrate what I mean by the difference between blind force, and active ingenuity and enterprise, in the management of school. I once knew the teacher of a school, who made it his custom to have writing attended to in the afternoon. The boys were accustomed to take their places, at the appointed hour, and each one would stick up his pen in the front of his desk for the teacher to pass around and mend them. The teacher would accordingly pass around, mending the pens from desk to desk, thus enabling the boys, in succession, to begin their task. Of course each boy before he came to his desk was necessarily idle, and, almost necessarily, in mischief. Day after day the teacher went through this regular routine. He sauntered slowly and listlessly through the aisles, and among the benches of the room, wherever he saw the signal of a pen. He paid of course very little attention to the writing, now and then reproving, with an impatient tone, some extraordinary instance of carelessness, or leaving his work to suppress some rising disorder. Ordinarily, however, he seemed to be lost in vacancy of thought,--dreaming perhaps of other scenes, or inwardly repining at the eternal monotony and tedium of a teacher's life. His boys took no interest in their work, and of course made no progress. They were sometimes unnecessarily idle, and sometimes mischievous, but never usefully or pleasantly employed; for the whole hour was past before the pens could all be brought down. Wasted time, blotted books, and fretted tempers, were all the results which the system produced. The same teacher afterwards acted on a very different principle. He looked over the field and said to himself, what are the objects I wish to accomplish in this writing exercise, and how can I best accomplish them? I wish to obtain the greatest possible amount of industrious and careful practice in writing. The first thing evidently is, to save the wasted time. He accordingly made preparation for mending the pens at a previous hour, so that all should be ready, at the appointed time, to commence the work together. This could be done quite as conveniently when the boys were engaged in studying, by requesting them to put out their pens at an appointed and _previous_ time. He sat at his table, and the pens of a whole bench were brought to him, and, after being carefully mended, were returned, to be in readiness for the writing hour. Thus the first difficulty, the loss of time, was obviated. "I must make them _industrious_ while they write," was his next thought. After thinking of a variety of methods, he determined to try the following. He required all to begin together at the top of the page and write the same line, in a hand of the same size. They were all required to begin together, he himself beginning at the same time, and writing about as fast as he thought they ought to write, in order to secure the highest improvement. When he had finished his line, he ascertained how many had preceded him, and how many were behind. He requested the first to write slower, and the others faster, and by this means, after a few trials, he secured uniform, regular, systematic and industrious employment, throughout the school. Probably there were, at first, difficulties in the operation of the plan, which he had to devise ways and means to surmount: but what I mean to present particularly to the reader is, that he was _interested in his experiments_. While sitting in his desk, giving his command to _begin_ line after line, and noticing the unbroken silence, and attention, and interest, which prevailed, (for each boy was interested to see how nearly with the master he could finish his work,) while presiding over such a scene, he must have been interested. He must have been pleased with the exercise of his almost military command, and to witness how effectually order and industry, and excited and pleased attention, had taken the place of listless idleness and mutual dissatisfaction. After a few days, he appointed one of the older and more judicious scholars, to give the word for beginning and ending the lines, and he sat surveying the scene, or walking from desk to desk, noticing faults, and considering what plans he could form for securing, more and more fully, the end he had in view. He found that the great object of interest and attention among the boys was, to come out right, and that less pains were taken with the formation of the letters, than there ought to be, to secure the most rapid improvement. But how shall he secure greater pains? By stern commands and threats? By going from desk to desk, scolding one, rapping the knuckles of another, and holding up to ridicule a third, making examples of such individuals as may chance to attract his special attention? No; he has learned that he is operating upon a little empire of mind, and that he is not to endeavor to drive them as a man drives a herd, by mere peremptory command or half angry blows. He must study the nature of the effect he is to produce, and of the materials upon which he is to work, and adopt, after mature deliberation, a plan to accomplish his purpose, founded upon the principles which ought always to regulate the action of mind upon mind, and adapted to produce the _intellectual effect_, which he wishes to accomplish. In the case supposed, the teacher concluded to appeal to emulation. While I describe the measure he adopted, let it be remembered that I am now only approving of the resort to ingenuity and invention, and the employment of moral and intellectual means, for the accomplishment of his purposes, and not of the measures themselves. I do not think the plan I am going to describe a wise one; but I do think that the teacher, while trying it, must _have been interested in his intellectual experiment_. His business, while pursued in such a way, could not have been a mere dull and uninteresting routine. He purchased, for three cents apiece, two long lead-pencils, an article of great value, in the opinion of the boys of country schools; and he offered them, as prizes, to the boy who would write most carefully; not to the one who should write _best_, but to the one whose book should exhibit most appearance of _effort_ and _care_ for a week. After announcing his plan, he watched, with strong interest its operation. He walked round the room while the writing was in progress, to observe the effect of his measure. He did not reprove those who were writing carelessly; he simply noticed who and how many they were. He did not commend those who were evidently making effort; he noticed who and how many they were, that he might understand how far, and upon what sort of minds, his experiment was successful, and where it failed. He was taking a lesson in human nature,--human nature as it exhibits itself in boys, and was preparing to operate more and more powerfully by future plans. The lesson which he learned by the experiment was this, that one or two prizes will not influence the majority of a large school. A few seemed to think that the pencils were possibly within their reach, and _they_ made vigorous efforts to secure them; but the rest wrote on as before. Thinking it certain that they should be surpassed by the others, they gave up the contest, at once, in despair. The obvious remedy was to multiply his prizes, so as to bring one within the reach of all. He reflected too that the real prize, in such a case, is not the value of the pencil, but the _honor of the victory_; and as the honor of the victory might as well be coupled with an object of less, as well as with one of greater value, the next week he divided his two pencils into quarters, and offered to his pupils eight prizes instead of two. He offered one to every five scholars, as they sat on their benches, and every boy then saw, that a reward would certainly come within five of him. His chance, accordingly, instead of being one in twenty, became one in five. Now is it possible for a teacher, after having philosophized upon the nature of the minds upon which he is operating, and surveyed the field, and ingeniously formed a plan, which plan he hopes will, through his own intrinsic power, produce certain effects,--is it possible for him when he comes, for the first day, to witness its operations, to come without feeling a strong interest in the result? It is impossible. After having formed such a plan, and made such arrangements, he will look forward, almost with impatience, to the next writing hour. He wishes to see whether he has estimated the mental capacities and tendencies of his little community aright; and when the time comes, and he surveys the scene, and observes the operation of his measure, and sees many more are reached by it, than were influenced before, he feels a strong gratification; and it is a gratification which is founded upon the noblest principles of our nature. He is tracing on a most interesting field, the operation of cause and effect. From being the mere drudge, who drives, without intellect or thought, a score or two of boys to their daily tasks, he rises to the rank of an intellectual philosopher, exploring the laws and successfully controlling the tendencies of mind. It will be observed too, that all the time this teacher was performing these experiments, and watching, with intense interest, the results, his pupils were going on undisturbed in their pursuits. The exercises in writing were not interrupted or deranged. This is a point of fundamental importance; for, if what I should say on the subject of exercising ingenuity and contrivance in teaching, should be the means, in any case, of leading a teacher to break in upon the regular duties of his school, and destroy the steady uniformity with which the great objects of such an institution should be pursued, my remarks had better never have been written. There may be variety in methods and plan; but through all this variety, the school, and every individual pupil of it, must go steadily forward in the acquisition of that knowledge which is of greatest importance in the business of future life. In other words, the variations and changes, admitted by the teacher, ought to be mainly confined to the modes of accomplishing those permanent objects to which all the exercises and arrangements of the school ought steadily to aim. More on this subject however in another chapter. I will mention one other circumstance, which will help to explain the difference in interest and pleasure with which teachers engage in their work. I mean the different views they take _of the offences of their pupils_. One class of teachers seem never to make it a part of their calculation that their pupils will do wrong, and when any misconduct occurs, they are disconcerted and irritated, and look and act as if some unexpected occurrence had broken in upon their plans. Others understand and consider all this beforehand. They seem to think a little, before they go into their school, what sort of beings boys and girls are, and any ordinary case of youthful delinquency or dulness does not surprise them. I do not mean that they treat such cases with indifference or neglect, but that they _expect_ them, and _are prepared for them_. Such a teacher knows that boys and girls, are the _materials_ he has to work upon, and he takes care to make himself acquainted with these materials, _just as they are_. The other class however, do not seem to know at all, what sort of beings they have to deal with, or if they know, do not _consider_. They expect from them what is not to be obtained, and then are disappointed and vexed at the failure. It is as if a carpenter should attempt to support an entablature by pillars of wood too small and weak for the weight, and then go on, from week to week, suffering anxiety and irritation, as he sees them swelling and splitting under the burden, and finding fault _with the wood_, instead of taking it to himself. It is, of course, one essential part of a man's duty in engaging in any undertaking, whether it will lead him to act upon matter or upon mind, to become first well acquainted with the circumstances of the case,--the materials he is to act upon, and the means which he may reasonably expect to have at his command. If he underrates his difficulties, or overrates the power of his means of overcoming them, it is his mistake; a mistake for which _he_ is fully responsible. Whatever may be the nature of the effect which he aims at accomplishing, he ought fully to understand it, and to appreciate justly the difficulties which lie in the way. Teachers however very often overlook this. A man comes home from his school at night, perplexed and irritated by the petty misconduct which he has witnessed, and been trying to check. He does not however, look forward and try to prevent the occasions of it, adapting his measures to the nature of the material upon which he has to operate; but he stands like the carpenter at his columns, making himself miserable in looking at it, after it occurs, and wondering what to do. "Sir," we might say to him, "what is the matter?" "Why, I have such boys, I can do nothing with them. Were it not for _their misconduct_, I might have a very good school." "Were it not for the boys? Why, is there any peculiar depravity in them which you could not have foreseen?" "No; I suppose they are pretty much like all other boys," he replies despairingly; "they are all hair-brained and unmanageable. The plans I have formed for my school, would be excellent if my boys would only behave properly." "Excellent plans," might we not reply, "and yet not adapted to the materials upon which they are to operate! No. It is your business to know what sort of beings boys are, and to make your calculations accordingly." * * * * * Two teachers may therefore manage their schools in totally different ways: so that one of them, may necessarily find the business a dull, mechanical routine, except as it is occasionally varied by perplexity and irritation; and the other, a prosperous and happy employment. The one goes on mechanically the same, and depends for his power on violence, or on threats and demonstrations of violence. The other brings all his ingenuity and enterprise into the field, to accomplish a steady purpose, by means ever varying, and depends for his power, on his knowledge of human nature, and on the adroit adaptation of plans to her fixed and uniform tendencies. I am very sorry however to be obliged to say, that probably the latter class of teachers are decidedly in the minority. To practice the art in such a way as to make it an agreeable employment, is difficult, and it requires much knowledge of human nature, much attention and skill. And, after all, there are some circumstances necessarily attending the work which constitute a heavy drawback on the pleasures which it might otherwise afford. The almost universal impression that the business of teaching is attended with peculiar trials and difficulties, proves this. There must be some cause for an impression so general. It is not right to call it a prejudice, for, although a single individual may conceive a prejudice, whole communities very seldom do, unless in some case, which is presented at once to the whole, so that looking at it, through a common medium, all judge wrong together. But the general opinion in regard to teaching is composed of a vast number of _separate_ and _independent_ judgments, and there must be some good ground for the universal result. It is best therefore, if there are any real and peculiar sources of trial and difficulty in this pursuit, that they should be distinctly known and acknowledged at the outset. Count the cost before going to war. It is even better policy to overrate, than to underrate it. Let us see then what the real difficulties of teaching are. It is not however, as is generally supposed, _the confinement_. A teacher is confined, it is true, but not more than men of other professions and employments; not more than a merchant, and probably not as much. A physician is confined in a different way, but more closely than a teacher: he can never leave home: he knows generally no vacation, and nothing but accidental rest. The lawyer is confined as much. It is true, there are not throughout the year, exact hours which he must keep, but considering the imperious demands of his business, his personal liberty is probably restrained as much by it, as that of the teacher. So with all the other professions. Although the nature of the confinement may vary, it amounts to about the same in all. On the other hand the teacher enjoys, in reference to this subject of confinement, an advantage, which scarcely any other class of men does or can enjoy. I mean vacations. A man in any other business may _force_ himself away from it, for a time, but the cares and anxieties of his business will follow him wherever he goes, and it seems to be reserved for the teacher, to enjoy alone the periodical luxury of a _real and entire release from business and care_. On the whole, as to confinement, it seems to me that the teacher has but little ground of complaint. There are however some real and serious difficulties which always have, and it is to be feared, always will, cluster around this employment; and which must, for a long time, at least, lead most men to desire some other employment for the business of life. There may perhaps be some, who by their peculiar skill, can overcome, or avoid them, and perhaps the science may, at some future day, be so far improved, that all may avoid them. As I describe them however now, most of the teachers into whose hands this treatise may fall, will probably find that their own experience corresponds, in this respect, with mine. 1. The first great difficulty which the teacher feels, is a sort of _moral responsibility for the conduct of others_. If his pupils do wrong, he feels almost personal responsibility for it. As he walks out, some afternoon, weary with his labors, and endeavoring to forget, for a little time, all his cares, he comes upon a group of boys, in rude and noisy quarrels, or engaged in mischief of some sort, and his heart sinks within him. It is hard enough for any one to witness their bad conduct, with a spirit unruffled and undisturbed, but for their teacher, it is perhaps impossible. He feels _responsible_; in fact he is responsible. If his scholars are disorderly, or negligent, or idle, or quarrelsome, he feels _condemned himself_, almost as if he were, himself, the actual transgressor. This difficulty is in a great degree, peculiar to a teacher. A physician is called upon to prescribe for a patient; he examines the case, and writes his prescription. When this is done, his duty is ended, and whether the patient obeys the prescription and lives, or neglects it and dies, the physician feels exonerated from all responsibility. He may, and in some cases does feel _anxious concern_, and may regret the infatuation by which, in some unhappy case, a valuable life may be hazarded or destroyed. But he feels no _moral responsibility_ for another's guilt. It is so with all the other employments in life. They do indeed often bring men into collision with other men. But though sometimes vexed, and irritated by the conduct of a neighbor, a client, or a patient, they feel not half the bitterness of the solicitude and anxiety which come to the teacher through the criminality of his pupil. In ordinary cases he not only feels responsible for efforts, but for their results; and when, notwithstanding all his efforts, his pupils will do wrong, his spirit sinks, with an intensity of anxious despondency, which none but a teacher can understand. This feeling of almost _moral accountability for the guilt of other persons_, is a continual burden. The teacher in the presence of the pupil never is free from it. It links him to them by a bond, which, perhaps, he ought not to sunder, and which he cannot sunder if he would. And sometimes, when those committed to his charge are idle, or faithless, or unprincipled, it wears away his spirits and his health together. I think there is nothing analogous to this moral connexion between teacher and pupil, unless it be in the case of a parent and child. And here on account of the comparative smallness of the number under the parent's care, the evil is so much diminished that it is easily borne. 2. The second great difficulty of the teacher's employments, is _the immense multiplicity of the objects of his attention and care_, during the time he is employed in his business. His scholars are individuals, and notwithstanding all that the most systematic can do, in the way of classification, they must be attended to in a great measure, as individuals. A merchant keeps his commodities together, and looks upon a cargo composed of ten thousand articles, and worth 100,000 dollars as one: he speaks of it as one: and there is, in many cases, no more perplexity in planning its destination, than if it were a single box of raisins. A lawyer may have a great many important cases, but he has only one at a time; that is, he _attends_ to but one at a time. That one may be intricate,--involving many facts and requiring to be examined in many aspects and relations. But he looks at but few of these facts and regards but few of these relations at a time. The points which demand his attention come, one after another, in regular succession. His mind may thus be kept calm. He avoids confusion and perplexity. But no skill or classification will turn the poor teacher's hundred scholars into one, or enable him, except to a very limited extent, and for a very limited purpose, to regard them as one. He has a distinct, and, in many respects, a different work to do for every one of the crowd before him. Difficulties must be explained in detail; questions must be answered one by one; and each scholar's own conduct and character must be considered by itself. His work is thus made up of a thousand minute particulars, which are all crowding upon his attention at once, and which he cannot group together, or combine, or simplify. He must by some means or other attend to them in all their distracting individuality. And in a large and complicated school, the endless multiplicity and variety of objects of attention and care, impose a task under which few intellects can long stand. I have said that this endless multiplicity and variety cannot be reduced and simplified by classification. I mean, of course, that this can be done only to a very limited extent, compared with what may be effected in the other pursuits of mankind. Were it not for the art of classification and system, no school could have more than ten scholars, as I intend hereafter to show. The great reliance of the teacher is upon this art, to reduce to some tolerable order, what would otherwise be the inextricable confusion of his business. He _must be systematic_. He must classify and arrange; but after he has done all that he can, he must still expect that his daily business will continue to consist of a vast multitude of minute particulars, from one to another of which the mind must turn with a rapidity, which, few of the other employments of life ever demand. These are the essential sources of difficulty with which the teacher has to contend; but, as I shall endeavor to show in succeeding chapters, though they cannot be entirely removed, they can be so far mitigated by the appropriate means, as to render the employment a happy one. I have thought it best however, as this work will doubtless be read by many, who, when they read it, are yet to begin their labors, to describe frankly and fully to them the difficulties which beset the path they are about to enter. "The wisdom of the prudent is, to understand his way. It is often wisdom to understand it beforehand." CHAPTER II. GENERAL ARRANGEMENTS. The distraction and perplexity of the teacher's life are, as was explained in the last chapter, almost proverbial. There are other pressing and exhausting pursuits, which wear away the spirit by the ceaseless care which they impose, or perplex and bewilder the intellect by the multiplicity and intricacy of their details. But the business of teaching, by a pre-eminence not very enviable, stands, almost by common consent, at the head of the catalogue. I have already alluded to this subject in the preceding chapter; and probably the greater majority of actual teachers will admit the truth of the view there presented. Some will however, doubtless say, that they do not find the business of teaching so perplexing and exhausting an employment. They take things calmly. They do one thing at a time, and that without useless solicitude and anxiety. So that teaching, with them, though it has, indeed, its solicitudes and cares, as every other responsible employment must necessarily have, is, after all, a calm and quiet pursuit, which they follow from month to month, and from year to year, without any extraordinary agitations, or any unusual burdens of anxiety and care. There are indeed such cases, but they are exceptions; and unquestionably an immense majority, especially of those who are beginners in the work, find it such as I have described. I think it need not be so; or rather, I think the evil may be avoided to _a very great degree_. In this chapter I shall endeavor to show how order may be produced out of that almost inextricable mass of confusion, into which so many teachers, on commencing their labors, find themselves plunged. The objects then, to be aimed at in the general arrangements of schools, are two-fold. 1. That the teacher may be left uninterrupted, to attend to one thing at a time. 2. That the individual scholars may have constant employment, and such an amount and such kinds of study, as shall be suited to the circumstances and capacities of each. I shall examine each in their order. 1. The following are the principal things which, in a vast number of schools, are all the time pressing upon the teacher: or rather, they are the things which must, every where, press upon the teacher, except so far as, by the skill of his arrangements, he contrives to remove them. 1. Giving leave to whisper or to leave seats. 2. Mending pens. 3. Answering questions in regard to studies. 4. Hearing recitations. 5. Watching the behavior of the scholars. 6. Administering reproof and punishment for offences as they occur. A pretty large number of objects of attention and care, one would say, to be pressing upon the mind of the teacher at one and the same time,--and _all the time_, too! Hundreds and hundreds of teachers in every part of our country, there is no doubt, have all these, crowding upon them from morning to night, with no cessation, except perhaps some accidental and momentary respite. During the winter months, while the principal common schools in our country are in operation, it is sad to reflect how many teachers come home, every evening, with bewildered and aching heads, having been vainly trying all the day, to do six things at a time, while He, who made the human mind, has determined that it shall do but one. How many become discouraged and disheartened by what they consider the unavoidable trials of a teacher's life, and give up in despair, just because their faculties will not sustain a six-fold task. There are multitudes who, in early life, attempted teaching, and, after having been worried, almost to distraction, by the simultaneous pressure of these multifarious cares, gave up the employment in disgust, and forever afterwards wonder how any body can like teaching. I know multitudes of persons to whom the above description will exactly apply. I once heard a teacher who had been very successful, even in large schools, say that he could hear two classes recite, mend pens, and watch his school, all at the same time; and that, without any distraction of mind, or any unusual fatigue. Of course the recitations in such a case must be memoriter. There are very few minds however, which can thus perform triple or quadruple work, and probably none which can safely be tasked so severely. For my part, I can do but one thing at a time; and I have no question that the true policy for all, is, to learn, not _to do every thing at once_, but so to classify and arrange their work, that _they shall have but one thing to do_. Instead of vainly attempting to attend simultaneously to a dozen things, they should so plan their work, that only one will demand attention. Let us then examine the various particulars above mentioned in succession, and see how each can be disposed of, so as not to be a constant source of interruption and derangement. 1. _Whispering and leaving seats._ In regard to this subject, there are very different methods, now in practice in different schools. In some, especially in very small schools, the teacher allows the pupils to act according to their own discretion. They whisper and leave their seats whenever they think it necessary. This plan may possibly be admissible in a very small school; that is, in one of ten or twelve pupils. I am convinced, however, that it is very bad here. No vigilant watch, which it is possible for any teacher to exert, will prevent a vast amount of mere talk, entirely foreign to the business of the school. I tried this plan very thoroughly, with high ideas of the dependence which might be placed upon conscience and a sense of duty, if these principles are properly brought out to action in an effort to sustain the system. I was told by distinguished teachers, that it would not be found to answer. But predictions of failure in such cases only prompt to greater exertions, and I persevered. But I was forced at last to give up the point, and adopt another plan. My pupils would make resolutions enough; they understood their duty well enough. They were allowed to leave their seats and whisper to their companions, whenever, in _their honest judgment, it was necessary for the prosecution of their studies_. I knew that it sometimes would be necessary, and I was desirous to adopt this plan to save myself the constant interruption of hearing and replying to requests. But it would not do. Whenever, from time to time, I called them to account, I found that a large majority, according to their own confession, were in the habit of holding daily and deliberate communication with each other, on subjects entirely foreign to the business of the school. A more experienced teacher would have predicted this result; but I had very high ideas of the power of cultivated conscience; and in fact, still have. But then, like most other persons who become possessed of a good idea, I could not be satisfied without carrying it to an extreme. Still it is necessary to give pupils, sometimes, the opportunity to whisper and leave seats. Cases occur where this is unavoidable. It cannot therefore be forbidden altogether. How then, you will ask, can the teacher regulate this practice, so as to prevent the evils which will otherwise flow from it, without being continually interrupted by the request for permission? By a very simple method. _Appropriate particular times at which all this business is to be done, and forbid it altogether_ at every other time. It is well on other accounts to give the pupils of a school a little respite, at least every hour; and if this is done, an intermission of study for two minutes each time, will be sufficient. During this time, _general_ permission should be given to speak or to leave seats, provided they do nothing at such a time to disturb the studies of others. This has been my plan for two or three years, and no arrangement which I have ever made, has operated for so long a time, so uninterruptedly, and so entirely to my satisfaction as this. It of course will require some little time, and no little firmness, to establish the new order of things, where a school has been accustomed to another course; but where this is once done, I know no one plan so simple and so easily put into execution, which will do so much towards relieving the teacher of the distraction and perplexity of his pursuits. In making the change, however, it is of fundamental importance that the pupils should themselves be interested in it. Their cooperation, or rather the cooperation of the majority, which it is very easy to obtain, is absolutely essential to success. I say this is very easily obtained. Let us suppose that some teacher, who has been accustomed to require his pupils to ask and obtain permission, every time they wish to speak to a companion, is induced by these remarks to introduce this plan. He says accordingly to his school: "You know that you are now accustomed to ask me whenever you wish to obtain permission to whisper to a companion, or to leave your seats: now I have been thinking of a plan which will be better for both you and me. By our present plan, you are sometimes obliged to wait before I can attend to your request. Sometimes I think it is unnecessary, and deny you, when perhaps I was mistaken, and it was really necessary. At other times, I think it very probable, that when it is quite desirable for you to leave your seat, you do not ask, because you think you may not obtain permission, and you do not wish to ask and be refused. Do you, or not, experience these inconveniences from our present plans?" The boys would undoubtedly answer in the affirmative. "I experience great inconvenience, too. I am very frequently interrupted when busily engaged, and it also occupies a great portion of my time and attention. It requires as much mental effort to consider and decide sometimes whether I ought to allow a pupil to leave his seat, as it would to decide a much more important question; therefore I do not like our plan, and I have another to propose." The boys are all attention to know what the new plan is. It will always be of great advantage to the school, for the teacher to propose his new plans from time to time to his pupils in such a way as this. It interests them in the improvement of the school, exercises their judgment, establishes a common feeling between teacher and pupil, and in many other ways will assist very much in promoting the welfare of the school. "My plan," continues the teacher, "is this:--to allow you all, besides the recess, a short time, two or three minutes perhaps, every hour;" (or every half hour, according to the character of the school, the age of the pupils, or other circumstances, to be judged of by the teacher,) "during which you may all whisper or leave your seats, without asking permission." Instead of deciding the question of the _frequency_ of this general permission, the teacher may, if he pleases, leave it to the pupils to decide. It is often useful to leave the decision of such a question to them. On this subject, however, I shall speak in another place. It is only necessary, here, to say, that _this_ point may be safely left to them, since the time is so small which is to be thus appropriated. Even if they vote to have the general permission to whisper every half hour, it will make but eight minutes in the forenoon. There being six half hours in the forenoon, and one of them ending at the close of school, and another at the recess, only _four_ of these _rests_, as a military man would call them, would be necessary; and four, of two minutes each, would make eight minutes. If the teacher thinks that evil would result from the interruption of the studies so often, he may offer the pupils _three_ minutes rest every _hour_, instead of _two_ minutes every _half hour_, and let them take their choice; or he may decide the case altogether himself. Such a change, from _particular permission on individual requests to general permission at stated times_, would unquestionably be popular in every school, if the teacher managed the business properly. And by presenting it as an object of common interest,--an arrangement proposed for the common convenience of teacher and pupils, the latter may be much interested in carrying the plan into effect. We must not rely, however, entirely upon their _interest in it_. All that we can expect from such an effort to interest them, as I have described and recommended, is to get a _majority_ on our side, so that we may have only a small minority, to deal with by other measures. Still _we must calculate on having this minority, and form our plans accordingly_, or we shall be sadly disappointed. I shall, however, in another place, speak of this principle of interesting the pupils in our plans, for the purpose of securing a majority in our favor, and explain the methods by which the minority is then to be governed. I only mean here to say, that, by such means, the teacher may easily interest a large proportion of the scholars, in carrying his plans into effect, and that he must expect to be prepared with other measures, for those, who will not be governed by these. You cannot reasonably expect however, that immediately after having explained your plan, it will, at once, go into full and complete operation. Even those who are firmly determined to keep the rule, will, from inadvertence, for a day or two, make communication with each other. They must be _trained_, not by threatening and punishment, but by your good-humored assistance, to their new duties. When I first adopted this plan in my school, something like the following proceedings took place. "Do you suppose that you will perfectly keep this rule, from this time?" "No sir," was the answer. "I suppose you will not. Some, I am afraid, may not really be determined to keep it, and others will forget. Now I wish every one would keep an exact account to day, of all the instances of speaking and leaving seats, out of the regular times, and be prepared to report them at the close of the school. Of course, I shall have no punishment for it; but it will very much assist you to watch yourselves, if you expect to make a report at the end of the forenoon. Do you like this plan?" "Yes sir," was the answer, and all seemed to enter into it with spirit. In order to mark more definitely the times for communication I wrote, in large letters, on a piece of pasteboard, "STUDY HOURS," and making a hole over the centre of it, I hung it upon a nail, over my desk. At the close of each half hour, a little bell was to be struck, and this card was to be taken down. When it was up, they were, on no occasion whatever, (except some such extraordinary occurrence as sickness, or my sending one of them on a message to another, or something clearly out of the common course,) to speak to each other; but were to wait, whatever they wanted, until the _Study Card_, as they called it, was taken down. "Suppose now," said I, "that a young lady has come into school, and has accidentally left her book in the entry;--the book from which she is to study during the first half hour of the school: she sits near the door, and she might, in a moment, slip out and obtain it: if she does not, she must spend the half hour in idleness, and be unprepared in her lesson. What is it her duty to do?" "To go;" "Not to go;" answered the scholars simultaneously. "It would be her duty _not_ to go; but I suppose it will be very difficult for me to convince you of it." "The reason is this," I continued; "if the one case I have supposed, were the _only_ one, which would be likely to occur, it would undoubtedly be better for her to go; but if it is understood that, in such cases, the rule may be dispensed with, there will be many others, where it will be equally necessary to lay it aside. Scholars will differ in regard to the degree of inconvenience, which they must submit to, rather than break the rule. They will gradually do it on slighter and slighter occasions, until at last the rule will be disregarded entirely. We must, therefore, draw a _precise line_, and individuals must submit to a little inconvenience, sometimes, to promote the general good." At the close of the day, I requested all in the school to rise. While they were standing, I called them to account in the following manner. "Now it is very probable that some have, from inadvertence, or from design, omitted to keep an account of the number of transgressions of the rule, which they have committed during the day; others, perhaps, do not wish to make a report of themselves. Now as this is a common and voluntary effort, I wish to have none render assistance, who do not, of their own accord, desire to do so; all those, therefore, who are not able to make a report, from not having been correct in keeping it, and all those who are unwilling to report themselves, may sit." A very small number hesitatingly took their seats. "I am afraid that all do not sit, who really wish not to report themselves. Now I am honest in saying I wish you to do just as you please. If a great majority of the school really wish to assist me in accomplishing the object, why, of course, I am glad; still, I shall not call upon any for such assistance, unless it is freely and voluntarily rendered." One or two more took their seats while these things were saying. Among such, there would generally be some, who would refuse to have any thing to do with the measure, just from a desire to thwart and impede the plans of the teacher. If so, it is best to take no notice of them. If the teacher can contrive to obtain a great majority upon his side, so as to let them see that any opposition which they can raise, is of no consequence, and is not even noticed, they will soon be ashamed of it. The reports then of those who remained standing, were called for; first, those who had whispered only once were requested to sit; then those who had whispered more than once, and less than five times, &c. &c., until at last all were down. In such a case, the pupils might, if thought expedient, again be requested to rise, for the purpose of asking some other questions, with reference to ascertaining whether they had spoken most in the former or latter part of the forenoon. The number who had spoken inadvertently, and the number who had done it by design, might be ascertained. These inquiries accustom the pupils to render honest and faithful accounts of themselves. They become, by such means, familiarized to the practice, and by means of it, the teacher can, many times, receive most important assistance. All however, should be done in a pleasant tone, and with a pleasant and cheerful air. It should be considered by the pupils, not a reluctant confession of guilt, for which they are to be rebuked or punished, but the voluntary and free report of the result of an _experiment_, in which all are interested. Some will have been dishonest in their reports: to diminish the number of these, the teacher may say, after the report is concluded: "We will drop the subject here to-day. To-morrow we will make another effort, when we shall be more successful. I have taken your reports as you have offered them, without any inquiry, because I had no doubt, that a great majority of this school would be honest, at all hazards. They would not, I am confident, make a false report, even if, by a true one, they were to bring upon themselves punishment; so that I think I may have confidence that nearly all these reports have been faithful. Still, it is very probable, that, among so large a number, some may have made a report, which, they are now aware, was not perfectly fair and honest. I do not wish to know who they are; if there are any such cases, I only wish to say to the rest, how much pleasanter it is for you that you have been honest and open. The business is now all ended; you have done your duty; and though you reported a little larger number than you would, if you had been disposed to conceal, yet you go away from school with a quiet conscience. On the other hand, how miserable must any boy feel, if he has any nobleness of mind whatever, to go away from school, to-day, thinking that he has not been honest; that he has been trying to conceal his faults, and thus to obtain a credit which he did not justly deserve. Always be honest, let the consequence be what it may." The reader will understand that the object of such measures is, simply _to secure as large a majority as possible_, to make _voluntary_ efforts to observe the rule. I do not expect that by such measures, _universal_ obedience can be exacted. The teacher must follow up the plan, after a few days, by other measures, for those who will not yield to such inducements as these. Upon this subject, however, I shall speak more particularly at a future time. In my own school, it required two or three weeks to exclude whispering and communication by signs. The period necessary to effect the revolution will be longer or shorter, according to the circumstances of the school, and the dexterity of the teacher; and, after all, the teacher must not hope _entirely_ to exclude it. Approximation to excellence is all that we can expect; for unprincipled and deceiving characters will perhaps always be found, and no system whatever can prevent their existence. Proper treatment may indeed be the means of their reformation, but before this process has arrived at a successful result, others similar in character will have entered, so that the teacher can never expect perfection in the operation of any of his plans. I found so much relief from the change which this plan introduced, that I soon took measures for rendering it permanent; and though I am not much in favor of efforts to bring all teachers and all schools to the same plans, this principle of _whispering at limited and prescribed times alone_, seems to me well suited to universal adoption. The following simple apparatus has been used in several schools where this principle has been adopted. A drawing and description of it is inserted here, as by this means, some teachers, who may like to try the course here recommended, may be saved the time and trouble of contriving something of the kind themselves. The figure _a a a a_ is a board, about 18 inches by 12, to which the parts are to be attached, and which is to be nailed against the wall, at the height of about 8 feet, _b c d c_ is a plate of tin or brass, 8 inches by 12, of the form represented in the drawing. At _c c_, the lower extremities of the parts at the sides, the metal is bent round, so as to clasp a wire which runs from _c_ to _c_, the ends of which wire are bent at right angles and run into the board. The plate will consequently turn on this axis, as on a hinge. At the top of the plate _d_, a small projection of the tin turns inwards, and to this, one end of the cord _m m_ is attached. This cord passes back from _d_ to _a_ small pulley at the upper part of the board, and at the tower end of it a tassel, loaded so as to be an exact counterpoise to the card, is attached. By raising the tassel, the plate will of course fall over forward till it is stopped by the part _b_ striking the board, when it will be in a horizontal position. On the other hand, by pulling down the tassel, the plate will be raised and drawn upwards against the board, so as to present its convex surface, with the words STUDY HOURS upon it, distinctly to the school. In the drawing it is represented in an inclined position, being not quite drawn up, that the parts might more easily be seen. At _d_, there is a small projection of the tin upwards, which touches the clapper of the bell suspended above, every time the plate passes up or down, and thus give notice of its motions. [Illustration] Of course the construction may be varied very much, and it may be more or less expensive, according to the wishes of the teacher. In the first apparatus of this kind which I used, the plate was simply a card of pasteboard, from which the machine took its name. This was cut out with a penknife, and after being covered with marble paper, a strip of white paper was pasted along the middle, with the inscription upon it. The wire _c c_ and a similar one at the top of the plate, were passed through a perforation in the pasteboard, and then passed into the board. Instead of a pulley, the cord, which was a piece of twine, was passed through a little staple made of wire and driven into the board. The whole was made in one or two recesses in school, with such tools and materials as I could then command. The bell was a common table bell, with a wire passing through the handle. The whole was attached to such a piece of pine board as I could get on the occasion. This coarse contrivance was, for more than a year, the grand regulator of all the movements of the school. I afterwards had one made in a better manner. The plate is of tin, gilded, the border and the letters of the inscription being black. A parlor bell rope passes over a brass pulley, and then runs downward in a groove made in the mahogany board to which the card is attached. A little reflection will, however, show the teacher that the form and construction of the apparatus for marking the times of study and of rest, may be greatly varied. The chief point is simply to secure the _principle_, of whispering at definite and limited times, and at those alone. If such an arrangement is adopted, and carried faithfully into effect, it will be found to relieve the teacher of more than half of the confusion and perplexity, which would otherwise be his hourly lot. I have detailed thus particularly the method to be pursued in carrying this principle into effect, because I am convinced of its importance, and the incalculable assistance which such an arrangement will afford to the teacher in all his plans. Of course, I would not be understood to recommend its adoption, in those cases, where, teachers, from their own experience, have devised and adopted _other_ plans, which accomplish as effectually the same purpose. All that I mean, is to insist upon the absolute necessity of _some_ plan, to remove this very common source of interruption and confusion, and I recommend this mode where a better is not known. 2. The second of the sources of interruption, as I have enumerated them, is mending pens. This business ought, if possible, to have a specific time assigned to it. Scholars are in general far too particular in regard to their pens. The teacher ought to explain to them that, in the transaction of the ordinary business of life, they cannot, always, have exactly such a pen as they would like. They must learn to write with various kinds of pens, and when furnished with one that the teacher himself would consider suitable to write a letter to a friend with, he must be content. They should understand that the _form_ of the letters is what is important in learning to write, not the smoothness and clearness of the hair lines; and that though writing looks better, when executed with a perfect pen, a person may _learn_ to write, nearly as well with one, which is not absolutely perfect. So certain is this, though often overlooked, that a person would perhaps learn faster with chalk upon a black board, than with the best goose-quill ever sharpened. I do not make these remarks to show that it is of no consequence, whether scholars have good or bad pens, but only that this subject deserves very much less of the time and attention of the teacher, than it usually receives. When the scholars are allowed, as they very generally are, to come, when they please, to present their pens, some four, five or six times in a day--breaking in upon any business--interrupting any classes--perplexing and embarrassing the teacher, however he may be employed,--there is a very serious obstruction to the progress of the scholars, which is by no means repaid by the improvement in this branch. There are several ways by which this evil may be remedied, or at least be very effectually curtailed. Some teachers take their pens with them, and mend them in the evening at home. For various reasons, this cannot always be practised. There may, however, be a time set apart in the school specially for this purpose. But the best plan is, for the teacher not to mend the pens himself. Let him choose from among the older and more intelligent of his scholars, four or five, whom he will teach. They will be very glad to learn, and to mend every day twenty-five or fifty pens each. Very little ingenuity will be necessary to devise some plan, by which the scholars may be apportioned among these, so that each shall supply a given number, and the teacher be relieved entirely. 3. Answering questions about studies. A teacher who does not adopt some system in regard to this subject, will be always at the mercy of his scholars. One boy will want to know how to parse a word, another where the lesson is, another to have a sum explained, and a fourth will wish to show his work, to see if it is right. The teacher does not like to discourage such inquiries. Each one, as it comes up, seems necessary: each one too is answered in a moment; but the endless number, and the continual repetition of them consume his time and exhaust his patience. There is another view of the subject, which ought to be taken. Perhaps it would not be far from the truth, to estimate the average number of scholars in the schools in our country, at fifty. At any rate, this will be near enough for our present purpose. There are three hours in each session, making one hundred and eighty minutes, which, divided among fifty, give about three minutes and a half to each individual. If the reader has, in his own school, a greater or a less number, he can easily correct the above, so as to adapt it to his own case, and ascertain the portion, which may justly be appropriated to each pupil. It will probably vary from two to four minutes. Now a period of four minutes slips away very fast while a man is looking over perplexing problems, and if he exceeds that time at all, he is doing injustice to his other pupils. I do not mean that a man is to confine himself, rigidly, to the principle suggested by this calculation, of cautiously appropriating no more time to any one of his pupils, than such a calculation would assign to each; but simply that this is a point which should be kept in view, and have a very strong influence in deciding how far it is right to devote attention, exclusively, to individuals. It seems to me that it shows very clearly, that one ought to teach his pupils, as much as possible, _in masses_, and as little as possible, by private attention to individual cases. The following directions will help the teacher to carry these principles into effect. When you assign a lesson, glance over it yourself, and consider what difficulties are likely to arise. You know the progress which your pupils have made, and can easily anticipate their difficulties. Tell them all together, in the class, what their difficulties will be, and how they may surmount them. Give them directions how they are to act in the emergencies, which will be likely to occur. This simple step will remove a vast number of the questions, which would otherwise become occasions for interrupting you. With regard to other difficulties, which cannot be foreseen and guarded against, tell them to bring them to the class, the next recitation. Half a dozen might, and very probably would meet with the same difficulty. If they bring it to you one by one, you have to answer it over and over again, whereas, when it is brought to the class, one explanation answers for all. As to all questions about the lesson,--where it is, and what it is, and how long it is,--never answer them. Require each pupil to remember for himself, and if he was absent when the lesson was assigned, let him ask his class mate in a recess. You may refuse to give particular individuals the private assistance they ask for, in such a way as to discourage and irritate them, but it is not necessary. It can be done in such a manner, that the pupil will see the propriety of it, and acquiesce pleasantly in it. A child comes to you, for example, and says, "Will you tell me, sir, where the next lesson is?" "Were you not in the class at the time?" "Yes sir, but I have forgotten." "Well, I have forgotten too. I have a great many classes to hear, and of course a great many lessons to assign, and I never remember them; it is not necessary far me to remember." "May I speak to one of the class, to ask about it?" "You cannot speak, you know, till the Study Card is down; you may, then." "But I want to get my lesson now." "I don't know what you will do, then: I am sorry you don't remember." "Besides," continues the teacher, looking pleasantly, however, while he says it, "if I knew, I think I ought not to tell you." "Why, sir?" "Because, you know, I have said I wish the scholars to remember where the lessons are, and not come to me. You know it would be very unwise for me, after assigning a lesson in the class, to spend my time in telling the individuals over again here. Now if I should tell _you_, I should have to tell others, and thus adopt a practice, which I have condemned." Take another case. You assign to a class of little girls a subject of composition, requesting them to copy their writing upon a sheet of paper, leaving a margin an inch wide at the top, and one of half an inch at the sides and bottom. The class take their seats, and, after a short time, one of them comes to you, saying she does not know how long an inch is. "Don't you know any thing about it?" "No sir, not much." "Should you think _that_ is more or less than an inch?" (pointing to a space on a piece of paper much too large.) "More." "Then you know something about it. Now I did not tell you to make the margins _exactly_ an inch, and half an inch, but only as near as you could tell." "Would that be about right?" asks the girl, showing a distance. "I must not tell you, because you know I never in such cases help individuals; if that is as near as you can get it, you may make it so." It may be well, after assigning a lesson to a class, to say that all those who do not distinctly understand what they have to do, may remain after the class have taken their seats, and ask: the task may then be distinctly assigned again, and the difficulties, so far as they can be foreseen, explained. By such means, these sources of interruption and difficulty may, like the others, be almost entirely removed. Perhaps not altogether, for many cases may occur, where the teacher may choose to give a particular class permission to come to him for help. Such permission, however, ought never to be given, unless it is absolutely necessary, and should never be allowed to be taken, unless it is distinctly given. 4. Hearing recitations. I am aware that many attempt to do something else, at the same time that they are hearing a recitation, and there may perhaps be some individuals, who can succeed in this. If the exercise, to which the teacher is attending, consists merely in listening to the reciting, from memory, some passage committed, it can perhaps be done. I hope however to show, in a future chapter, that there are other and far higher objects, which every teacher ought to have in view, and he who understands these objects, and aims at accomplishing them,--who endeavors to _instruct_ his class, to enlarge and elevate their ideas, to awaken a deep and paramount interest in the subject which they are examining, will find that his time must be his own, and his attention uninterrupted, while he is presiding at a class. All the other exercises and arrangements of the school are, in fact, preparatory and subsidiary to this. Here, that is, in the classes, the real business of teaching is to be done. Here, the teacher comes in contact with his scholars, mind with mind, and here, consequently, he must be uninterrupted and undisturbed. I shall speak more particularly on this subject hereafter, under the head of instruction; all I wish to secure in this place, is that the teacher should make such arrangements, that he can devote his exclusive attention to his classes, while he is actually engaged with them. Each recitation, too, should have its specified time, which should be adhered to, with rigid accuracy. If any thing like the plan I have suggested for allowing rests of a minute or two, every half hour, should be adopted, it will mark off the forenoon into parts, which ought to be precisely and carefully observed. I was formerly accustomed to think, that I could not limit the time for my recitations without great inconvenience, and occasionally allowed one exercise to encroach upon the succeeding, and this upon the next, and thus sometimes the last was excluded altogether. But such a lax and irregular method of procedure is ruinous to the discipline of a school. On perceiving it, at last, I put the bell into the hands of a pupil, commissioning her to ring regularly, having, myself, fixed the times, saying that I would show my pupils that I could be confined myself to system, as well as they. At first, I experienced a little inconvenience, but this soon disappeared, and at last the hours and half hours of our artificial division, entirely superseded, in the school-room, the divisions of the clock face. But in order that I may be specific and definite, I will draw up a plan for the regular division of time, for a common school, not to be _adopted_, but to be _imitated_; i. e. I do not recommend exactly this plan, but that some plan, precise and specific, should be determined upon, and exhibited to the school, by a diagram like the following. FORENOON. IX X XI XII +-------------+--------------------+-----------------+ | Reading. | Writing. R. G. | Arithmetic. | +-------------+--------------------+-----------------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +-------------+--------------------+-----------------+ AFTERNOON. II III IV V +-------------+--------------------+-----------------+ | Grammar. | Writing. R. G. | Geography. | +-------------+--------------------+-----------------+ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +-------------+--------------------+-----------------+ A drawing on a large sheet, made by some of the older scholars, (for a teacher should never do any thing of this kind which his scholars can do for him,) should be made and pasted up to view, the names of the classes being inserted in the columns, under their respective heads. At the double lines at ten and three, there might be a rest of two minutes; an officer appointed for the purpose, ringing a bell at each of the parts marked on the plan, and making the signal for the _rest_, whatever signal might be determined upon. It is a good plan to have a bell rung five minutes before each half hour expires, and then exactly at its close. The first one would be to notify the teacher, or teachers, if there are more than one in the school, that the time for their respective recitations is drawing to a close. At the second bell the new classes should take their places without waiting to be called for. The scholars will thus see that the arrangements of the school are based upon system, to which the teacher himself conforms, and not subjected to his own varying will. They will thus not only go on more regularly, but they will yield more easily and pleasantly to the necessary arrangements. The fact is, children love system and regularity. Each one is sometimes a little uneasy under the restraint, which it imposes upon him individually, but they all love to see its operation upon others, and they are generally very willing to submit to its laws, if the rest of the community are required to submit too. They show this in their love of military parade; what allures them is chiefly the _order_ of it: and even a little child creeping upon the floor will be pleased when he gets his playthings in a row. A teacher may turn this principle to most useful account, in forming his plans for his school. It will be seen by reference to the foregoing plan, that I have marked the time for the recesses, by the letter R. at the top. Immediately after them, both in the forenoon and in the afternoon, twenty minutes are left, marked G., the initial standing for General exercise. They are intended to denote periods during which all the scholars are in their seats with their work laid aside, ready to attend to what the teacher has to bring before the whole. There are so many occasions, on which it is necessary to address the whole school, that it is very desirable to appropriate a particular time for it. In most of the best schools, I believe this plan is adopted. I will mention some of the subjects, which would come up at such a time. 1. There are some studies, which can be advantageously attended to by the whole school together; such as Punctuation, and, to some extent, Spelling. 2. Cases of discipline, which it is necessary to bring before the whole school, ought to come up at a regularly appointed time. By attending to them here, there will be a greater importance attached to them. Whatever the teacher does, will seem to be more deliberate, and, in fact, _will be_ more deliberate. 3. General remarks, bringing up classes of faults which prevail; also general directions, which may at any time be needed: and in fact any business relating to the general arrangements of the school. 4. Familiar lectures from the teacher, on various subjects,--very familiar in their form, and perhaps accompanied by questions addressed to the whole. The design of such lectures should be to extend the _general knowledge_ of the pupils in regard to those subjects on which they will need information in their progress through life. In regard to each of these particulars I shall speak more particularly hereafter, in the chapters to which they respectively belong. My only object, here, is to show, in the general arrangements of the school, how a place is to be found for them. My practice has been, to have two periods, of short duration, each day, appropriated to these objects. The first to the _business of the school_, and the second to such studies or lectures as could be most profitably attended to at such a time. * * * * * We come now to one of the most important subjects, which present themselves to the teacher's attention, in settling the principles upon which he shall govern his school. I mean the degree of influence which the boys themselves shall have in the management of its affairs. Shall the government of school be a _monarchy_ or a _republic_? To this question, after much inquiry and many experiments, I answer, a monarchy; an absolute, unlimited monarchy; the teacher possessing exclusive power, as far as the pupils are concerned, though strictly responsible to the committee, or to the trustees, under whom he holds his office. While, however, it is thus distinctly understood that the power of the teacher is supreme, that all the power rests in him, and that he alone is responsible for its exercise, there ought, to be a very free and continual _delegation_ of power to the pupils. As much business as is possible, should be committed to them. They should be interested as much as possible in the affairs of the school, and led to take an active part in carrying them forward; though they should, all the time, distinctly understand, that it is only _delegated_ power which they exercise, and that the teacher can, at any time, revoke what he has granted, and alter or annul at pleasure, any of their decisions. By this plan, we have the responsibility resting where it ought to rest, and yet the boys are trained to business, and led to take an active interest in the welfare of the school. Trust is reposed in them, which may be greater or less, as they are able to bear. All the good effects of reposing trust and confidence, and committing the management of important business to the pupils will be secured, without the dangers which would result from the entire surrender of the management of the institution into their hands. There have been, in several cases, experiments made with reference to ascertaining how far a government, strictly republican, would be admissible in a school. A very fair experiment of this kind was made at the Gardiner Lyceum, in Maine. At the time of its establishment, nothing was said of the mode of government which it was intended to adopt. For some time, the attention of the Instructers was occupied in arranging the course of study, and attending to the other concerns of the Institution, and in the infant state of the Lyceum, few cases of discipline occurred, and no regular system of government was necessary. Before long, however, complaints were made that the students at the Lyceum were guilty of breaking windows in an old building used as a town-house. The Principal called the students together, mentioned the reports, and said that he did not know, and did not wish to know who were the guilty individuals. It was necessary, however, that the thing should be examined, and that restitution should be made; and relying on their faithfulness and ability, he should leave them to manage the business alone. For this purpose, he nominated one of the students as judge, some others as jury-men, and appointed the other officers necessary, in the same manner. He told them, that, in order to give them time to make a thorough investigation, they were excused from farther exercises during the day. The Principal then left them, and they entered on the trial. The result was, that they discovered the guilty individuals, ascertained the amount of mischief done by each, and sent to the selectmen a message, by which they agreed to pay a sum equal to three times the value of the injury sustained. The students were soon after informed that this mode of bringing offenders to justice would, hereafter, be always pursued, and arrangements were made for organizing a _regular republican government_, among the young men. By this government, all laws which related to the internal police of the Institution, were to be made, all officers were appointed, and all criminal cases were to be tried. The students finding the part of a judge too difficult for them to sustain, one of the Professors was appointed to hold that office, and, for similar reasons, another of the Professors was made President of the Legislative assembly. The Principal was the Executive, with power to _pardon_, but not to _sentence_, or even _accuse_. Some time after this, a student was indicted for profane swearing; he was tried, convicted, and punished. After this he evinced a strong hostility to the government. He made great exertions to bring it into contempt, and when the next trial came on, he endeavored to persuade the witnesses that giving evidence was dishonorable, and he so far succeeded, that the defendant was acquitted for want of evidence, when it was generally understood that there was proof of his guilt, which would have been satisfactory, if it could have been brought forward. For some time after this, the prospect was rather unfavorable, though many of the students themselves opposed with great earnestness these efforts, and were much alarmed lest they should lose their free government, through the perverseness of one of their number. The attorney general, at this juncture, conceived the idea of indicting the individual alluded to, for an attempt to overturn the government. He obtained the approbation of the Principal, and the Grand Jury found a bill. The Court, as the case was so important, invited some of the Trustees of the Lyceum who were in town, to attend the trial. The parent of the defendant was also informed of the circumstances and requested to be present, and he accordingly attended. The prisoner was tried, found guilty, and sentenced, if I mistake not, to an expulsion. At his earnest request, however, to be permitted to remain in the Lyceum, and redeem his character, he was pardoned and restored, and became perfectly exemplary in his conduct and character. After this occurrence, the system went on in successful operation, for some time. The legislative power was vested in the hands of a general committee, consisting of eight or ten, chosen by the students from their own number. They met about once a week to transact such business as appointing officers, making and repealing regulations, and inquiring into the state of the Lyceum. The Instructers had a negative upon all their proceedings, but no direct and positive power. They could pardon, but they could assign no punishments, nor make laws inflicting any. Now such a plan as this may succeed for a short time, and under very favorable circumstances; and the circumstance, which it is chiefly important should be favorable, is, that the man who is called to preside over such an association, should possess such a share of _generalship_, that he can really manage the institution _himself_, while the power is _nominally_ and _apparently_ in the hands of the boys. Should this not be the case, or should the teacher, from any cause, lose his personal influence in the school, so that the institution should really be surrendered into the hands of the pupils, things must be on a very unstable footing. And accordingly where such a plan has been adopted, it has, I believe, in every instance, been ultimately abandoned. _Real self-government_ is an experiment sufficiently hazardous among men; though Providence, in making a daily supply of food necessary for every human being, has imposed a most-powerful check upon the tendency to anarchy and confusion. Let the populace of London materially interrupt the order, and break in upon the arrangements of the community, and, in eight and forty hours, nearly the whole of the mighty mass will be in the hands of the devourer, hunger; and they will be soon brought to submission. On the other hand, a month's anarchy and confusion in a college or an academy, would be delight to half the students, or else times have greatly changed, since I was within college walls. Although it is thus evident that the important concerns of a literary institution cannot be safely committed into the hands of the students, very great benefits will result from calling upon them to act upon, and to decide questions relative to the school, within such limits, and under such restrictions, as may appear best. Such a practice will assist the teacher very much, if he manages it with any degree of dexterity: for it will interest his pupils in the success of the school, and secure, to a very considerable extent, their cooperation. It will teach them self-control and self-government, and will accustom them to submit to the majority,--that lesson, which, of all others, it is important for a republican to learn. In endeavoring to interest the pupils of a school in the work of cooperating with the teacher in its administration, no little dexterity will be necessary, at the outset. In all probability, the formal announcement of this principle, and the endeavor to introduce it, by a sudden revolution, would totally fail. Boys, like men, must be gradually prepared for power, and they must exercise it only so far as they are prepared. This however can, very easily, be done. The teacher should say nothing of his general design, but when some suitable opportunity presents, he should endeavor to lead his pupils to cooperate with him, in some particular instance. For example, let us suppose that he has been accustomed to distribute the writing-books with his own hand, when the writing hour arrives, and that he concludes to delegate this simple business, first, to his scholars. He accordingly states to them, just before the writing exercise of the day on which he proposes the experiment, as follows. "I have thought that time will be saved, if you will help me distribute the books, and I will accordingly appoint four distributors, one for each division of the seats, who may come to me, and receive the books and distribute them, each to his own division. Are you willing to adopt this plan?" The boys answer, "Yes sir," and the teacher then looks carefully around the room, and selects four pleasant and popular boys,--boys who, he knows, would gladly assist him, and who would, at the same time, be agreeable to their school mates. This latter point is necessary, in order to secure the popularity and success of the plan. Unless the boys are very different from any I have ever met with, they will be pleased with the duty thus assigned them. They will learn system and regularity by being taught to perform this simple duty in a proper manner. After a week, the teacher may consider their term of service as having expired, and thanking them, in public for the assistance they have rendered him, he may ask the scholars, if they are willing to continue the plan, and if the vote is in favor of it, as it unquestionably would be, each boy probably hoping that he should be appointed to the office, the teacher may nominate four others, including perhaps upon the list, some boy popular among his companions, but whom he has suspected to be not very friendly to himself or the school. I think the most scrupulous politician would not object to securing influence, by conferring office in such a case. If any difficulties arise from the operation of such a measure, it can easily be dropped, or modified. If it is successful, it may be continued, and the principle extended, till it very considerably modifies all the arrangements, and the whole management of the school. Or let us imagine the following scene to have been the commencement of the introduction of the principle of limited self-government, into a school. The preceptor of an academy was sitting at his desk, at the close of school, while the pupils were putting up their books and leaving the room; a boy came in with angry looks, and, with his hat in his hands bruised and dusty, advanced to the master's desk, and complained that one of his companions had thrown down his hat upon the floor, and had almost spoilt it. The teacher looked calmly at the mischief, and then asked how it happened. "I don't know sir; I hung it up on my nail, and he pulled it down." "I wish you would ask him to come here," said the teacher. "Ask him pleasantly." The accused soon came in, and the two boys stood together before the master. "There seems to be some difficulty between you boys, about a nail to hang your hats upon. I suppose each of you think it is your own nail." "Yes sir," said both the boys. "It will be more convenient for me to talk with you about this to-morrow, than to-night, if you are willing to wait. Besides, we can examine it more calmly, then. But if we put it off till then, you must not talk about it in the meantime, blaming one another, and keeping up the irritation that you feel. Are you both willing to leave it just where it is, till to-morrow, and try to forget all about it till then? I expect I shall find you both a little to blame." The boys rather reluctantly consented. The next day the master heard the case and settled it, so far as it related to the two boys. It was easily settled in the morning, for they had had time to get calm, and were, after sleeping away their anger, rather ashamed of the whole affair, and very desirous to have it forgotten. That day, when the hour for the transaction of business came, the teacher stated to the school, that it was necessary to take some measures to provide each boy with a nail for his hat. In order to show that it was necessary, he related the circumstances of the quarrel which had occurred the day before. He did this, not with such an air and manner as to convey the impression that his object was to find fault with the boys, or to expose their misconduct, but to show the necessity of doing something to remedy the evil, which had been the cause of so unpleasant an occurrence. Still, though he said nothing in the way of reproach or reprehension, and did not name the boys, but merely gave a cool and impartial narrative of the facts,--the effect, very evidently, was to bring such quarrels into discredit. A calm review of misconduct, after the excitement has gone by, will do more to bring it into disgrace, than the most violent invectives and reproaches, directed against the individuals guilty of it. "Now boys," continued the master, "will you assist me in making arrangements to prevent the recurrence of all temptations of this kind hereafter? It is plain that every boy ought to have a nail appropriated expressly to his use. The first thing to be done is, to ascertain whether there are enough for all. I should like, therefore, to have two committees appointed; one, to count and report the number of nails in the entry, and also how much room there is for more; the other, to ascertain the number of scholars in school. They can count all who are here, and by observing the vacant desks, they can ascertain the number absent. When this investigation is made, I will tell you what to do next." The boys seemed pleased with the plan, and the committees were appointed, two members on each. The master took care to give the quarrellers some share in the work, apparently forgetting, from this time, the unpleasant occurrence which had brought up the subject. When the boys came to tell him their results, he asked them to make a little memorandum, in writing, as he might forget, before the time came for reading them. They brought him presently a rough scrap of paper, with the figures marked upon it. He told them he should forget which was the number of nails, and which the number of scholars, unless they wrote it down. "It is the custom among men," said he, "to make out their report, in such a case, fully, so that it would explain itself; and I should like to have you, if you are willing, to make out yours a little more distinctly." Accordingly, after a little additional explanation, the boys made another attempt, and presently returned, with something like the following: "The Committee for counting the nails report as follows: Number of nails 35 Room for 15." The other report was very similar, though somewhat rudely written and expressed, and both were perfectly satisfactory to the preceptor, as he plainly showed by the manner in which he received them. I need not finish the description of this case, by narrating, particularly, the reading of the reports, the appointment of a committee to assign the nails, and to paste up the names of the scholars, one to each. The work, in such a case, might be done in recesses, and out of school hours, and though, at first, the teacher will find, that it is as much trouble to accomplish business in this way, as it would be to attend to it directly himself,--yet after a very little experience, he will find that his pupils will acquire dexterity and readiness, and will be able to render him very material assistance in the accomplishment of his plans. This, however, _the assistance rendered to the teacher_, is not the object. The main design is to _interest the pupils_, in the management and the welfare of the school,--to identify them, as it were, with it. It will accomplish this object; and every teacher, who will try the experiment, and carry it into effect, with any tolerable degree of skill, will find that it will, in a short time, change the whole aspect of the school, in regard to the feelings subsisting between himself and his pupils. Each teacher, who tries such an experiment, will find himself insensibly repeating it, and after a time he may have quite a number of officers and committees, who are entrusted with various departments of business. He will have a secretary, chosen by ballot, by the scholars, to keep a record of all the important transactions in the school, for each day. At first, he will dictate to the secretary, telling him precisely what to say, or even writing it for him, and merely requiring him to copy it into the book provided for the purpose. Afterwards he will give him less and less assistance, till he can keep the record properly himself. The record of each day will be read on the succeeding, at the hour for business. He will have a committee of one or two to take care of the fire, and another to see that the room is constantly in good order. He will have distributors for each division of seats, to distribute books, and compositions, and pens, and to collect votes. And thus, in a short time, his school will become _regularly organized, as a society_, or _legislative assembly_. The boys will learn submission to the majority, in such unimportant things as may be committed to them: they will learn system and regularity; and every thing else that belongs to the science of political self government. There are dangers, however. What useful practice has not its dangers? One of these is, that the teacher will allow these arrangements to take up too much time. He must guard against this. I have found from experience that fifteen minutes each day, with a school of 135, is enough. This ought never to be exceeded. Another danger is, that the boys will be so engaged in the duties of their _offices_, as to neglect their _studies_. This would be, and ought to be, fatal to the whole plan. Avoid it in this manner. State publicly that you will not appoint any to office, who are not good scholars, always punctual, and always prepared; and when any boy, who holds an office, is going behind hand in his studies, say to him kindly, "You have not time to get your lessons, and I am afraid it is owing to the time you spend in helping me. Now if you wish to resign your office, so as to have a little more time for your lessons, you can. In fact, I think you ought to do it. You may try it for a day or two, and I will notice how you recite, and then we can decide." Such a communication will generally be found to have a powerful effect. If it does not remedy the evil, the resignation must be insisted on. A few decided cases of this kind, will effectually remove the evil I am considering. * * * * * Another difficulty, which is likely to attend the plan of allowing the pupils of the school to decide some of the cases which occur, is, that it may tend to make them insubordinate; so that they will, in many instances, submit, with less good humor, to such decisions as you may consider necessary. I do not mean that this will be the case with all, but that there will be a few, who will be ungenerous enough, if you allow them to decide, sometimes, to endeavor to make trouble, or at least to show symptoms of impatience and vexation, because you do not allow them to decide always. Sometimes this feeling may show itself by the discontented looks, or gestures, or even words, with which some unwelcome decision will be received. Such a spirit should be immediately and decidedly checked. It will not be difficult to check, and even entirely to remove it. On one occasion, when, after learning the wishes of the scholars on some subject which had been brought before them, I decided contrary to it, there arose a murmur of discontent, all over the room. This was the more distinct, because I have always accustomed my pupils to answer questions asked, and to express their wishes and feelings on any subject I may present to them, with great freedom. I asked all those, who had expressed their dissatisfaction, to rise. About one third of the scholars arose. "Perhaps you understood, that when I put the question to vote, I meant to abide by your decision, and that, consequently, I ought not to have reversed it, as I did, afterwards?" "Yes sir;" "yes sir;" they replied. "Do you suppose it would be safe to leave the decision of important questions to the scholars in this school?" "Yes sir;" "No sir." The majority were, however, in the affirmative. Thus far, only those who were standing, had answered. I told them, that as they were divided in opinion, they might sit, and I would put the question to the whole school. "You know," I continued, addressing the whole, "what sort of persons the girls, who compose this school are. You know about how many are governed, habitually, by steady principle, and how many by impulse and feeling. You know too, what proportion have judgment and foresight necessary to consider and decide independently, such questions as continually arise in the management of a school. Now suppose I should resign the school into your own hands, as to its management, and only come in to give instruction to the classes, leaving all general control of its arrangements with you; would it go on safely or not?" As might have been foreseen, there was, when the question was fairly proposed, scarcely a solitary vote in favor of government by scholars. They seemed to see clearly the absurdity of such a scheme. "Besides," I continued, "the Trustees of this school have committed it to my charge; they hold me responsible; the public hold me responsible, not you. Now if I should surrender it into your hands, and you, from any cause, should manage the trust unfaithfully, or unskilfully, I should necessarily be held accountable. I could never shift the responsibility upon you. Now it plainly is not just or right, that one party should hold the power, and another be held accountable for its exercise. It is clear, therefore, in every view of the subject, that I should retain the management of this school in my own hands. Are you not satisfied that it is?" The scholars universally answered, "Yes sir." They seemed satisfied; and doubtless were. It was then stated to them, that the object in asking them to vote, was, in some cases, to obtain an expression of their opinion or their wishes, in order to help _me_ decide; and only in those cases where it was expressly stated, did I mean to give the final decision to them. Still, however, if cases are often referred to them, the feeling will gradually creep in, that the school is managed on republican principles, as they call it; and they will, unless this point is specially guarded, gradually lose that spirit of entire and cordial subordination, so necessary for the success of any school. It should often be distinctly explained to them, that a republican government is one, where the power essentially resides in the community, and is exercised by a ruler, only so far as the community delegates it to him; whereas in the school, the government is based on the principle, that the power, primarily and essentially, resides in the teacher, the scholars exercising only such as he may delegate to them. With these limitations and restrictions, and with this express understanding, in regard to what is, in all cases, the ultimate authority, I think there will be no danger in throwing a very large share of the business which will, from time to time, come up in the school, upon the scholars, for decision. In my own experience, this plan has been adopted with the happiest results. A small red morocco wrapper lies constantly on a little shelf, accessible to all. By its side, is a little pile of papers, about one inch by six, on which any one may write her motion, or her _proposition_, as they call it, whatever it may be, and when written, it is enclosed in the wrapper, to be brought to me at the appointed time for attending to the general business of the school. Through this wrapper, all questions are asked, all complaints entered, all proposals made. Is there discontent in the school? It shows itself by "_propositions_" in the wrapper. Is any body aggrieved or injured? I learn it through the wrapper. In fact it is a little safety valve, which lets off, what, if confined, might threaten explosion,--an index,--a thermometer, which reveals to me, from day to day, more of the state of public opinion in the little community, than any thing beside. These propositions are generally read aloud; some cases are referred to the scholars for decision; some I decide myself; others are laid aside without notice of any kind; others still, merely suggest remarks on the subjects to which they allude. The principles, then, which this chapter has been intended to establish, are simply these: in making your general arrangements, look carefully over your ground, consider all the objects which you have to accomplish, and the proper degree of time and attention, which each deserves. Then act upon system. Let the mass of particulars which would otherwise crowd upon you in promiscuous confusion, be arranged and classified. Let each be assigned to its proper time and place; that your time may be your own,--under your own command,--and not, as is too often the case, at the mercy of the thousand accidental circumstances, which may occur. In government, be yourself supreme, and let your supremacy be that of _authority_. But delegate power, as freely as possible, to those under your care. Show them that you are desirous of reposing trust in them, just so far as they show themselves capable of exercising it. Thus interest them in your plans, and make them feel, that they participate in the honor or the disgrace of success or failure. I have gone much into detail in this chapter, proposing definite measures by which the principles I have recommended, may be carried into effect. I wish, however, that it may be distinctly understood, that all I contend for, is the _principles_ themselves; no matter what the particular measures are, by which they are secured. Every good school must be systematic; but they need not all be on precisely the same system. As this work is intended almost exclusively for beginners, much detail has been admitted, and many of the specific measures here proposed, may perhaps be safely adopted, where no others are established. There may also perhaps be cases, where teachers, whose schools are already in successful operation, may engraft, upon their own plans, some things which are here proposed. If they should attempt it, it must be done cautiously and gradually. There is no other way by which they can be safely introduced or even introduced at all. This is a point of so much importance, that I must devote a paragraph to it, before closing the chapter. Let a teacher propose to his pupils, formally, from his desk, the plan of writing propositions, for example, and procure his wrapper, and put it in its place;--and what would be the result? Why, not a single paper, probably, could he get, from one end of the week to the other. But let him, on the other hand, when a boy comes to him to ask some question, the answer to which many in the school would equally wish to hear, say to the inquirer: "Will you be so good as to write that question, and put it on my desk, and then, at the regular time, I will answer it to all the school." When he reads it, let him state, that it was written at his request, and give the other boys permission to leave their proposals or questions on his desk, in the same way. In a few days, he will have another, and thus the plan may be gently and gradually introduced. So with officers. They should be appointed among the scholars, only _as fast as they are actually needed_, and the plan should thus be cautiously carried only so far as it proves good on trial. Be always cautious about innovations and changes. Make no rash experiments on a large scale, but always test your principle in the small way, and then, if it proves good, gradually extend its operation, as circumstances seem to require. By thus cautiously and slowly introducing plans, founded on the systematic principles here brought to view, a very considerable degree of quiet, and order, and regularity may be introduced into the largest and most miscellaneous schools. And this order and quiet are absolutely necessary, to enable the teacher to find that interest and enjoyment in his work, which were exhibited in the last chapter; the pleasure of _directing and controlling mind_, and doing it, not by useless and anxious complaints, or stern threats and painful punishments; but by regarding the scene of labor in its true light, as a community of intellectual and moral beings, and governing it by moral and intellectual power. It is, in fact, the pleasure of exercising power. I do not mean arbitrary, personal authority, but the power to produce, by successful but quiet contrivance, extensive and happy results;--the pleasure of calmly considering every difficulty, and without irritation or anger, devising the proper moral means to remedy the moral evil: and then the interest and pleasure of witnessing its effects. CHAPTER III. INSTRUCTION. There are three kinds of human knowledge which stand strikingly distinct from all the rest. They lie at the foundation. They constitute the roots of the tree. In other words, they are the _means_, by which all other knowledge is acquired. I need not say, that I mean, Reading, Writing, and Calculation. Teachers do not perhaps always consider, how entirely and essentially distinct these three are from all the rest. They are arts; the acquisition of them is not to be considered as knowledge, so much as the means, by which knowledge may be obtained. A child, who is studying Geography, or History, or Natural Science, is learning _facts_,--gaining information; on the other hand, the one who is learning to write, or to read, or to calculate, may be adding little or nothing to his stock of knowledge. He is acquiring _skill_, which, at some future time, he may make the means of increasing his knowledge, to any extent. This distinction ought to be kept constantly in view, and the teacher should feel that these three fundamental branches stand by themselves, and stand first in importance. I do not mean to undervalue the others, but only to insist upon the superior value and importance of these. Teaching a pupil to read, before he enters upon the active business of life, is like giving a new settler an axe, as he goes to seek his new home in the forest. Teaching him a lesson in history, is, on the other hand, only cutting down a tree or two for him. A knowledge of natural history, is like a few bushels of grain, gratuitously placed in his barn; but the art of ready reckoning, is the plough, which will remain by him for years, and help him to draw out from the soil an annual treasure. The great object, then, of the common schools in our country, is to teach the whole population to read, to write, and to calculate. In fact, so essential is it, that the accomplishment of these objects should be secured, that it is even a question whether common schools should not be confined to them. I say it is a _question_, for it is sometimes made so, though public opinion has decided, that some portion of attention, at least, should be paid to the acquisition of additional knowledge. But after all, the amount of _knowledge_, which is actually acquired at schools, is very small. It must be very small. The true policy is, to aim at making all, good readers, writers, and calculators, and to consider the other studies of the school important, chiefly as practice, in turning these arts to useful account. In other words, the scholars should be taught these arts, thoroughly, first of all, and in the other studies, the main design should be to show them how to use, and interest them in using, the arts they have thus acquired. A great many teachers feel a much stronger interest in the one or two scholars they may have, in Surveying, or in Latin, than they do in the large classes, in the elementary branches, which fill the school. But a moment's reflection will show, that such a preference is founded on a very mistaken view. Leading forward one or two minds, from step to step, in an advanced study, is certainly far inferior, in real dignity and importance, to opening all the stores of written knowledge, to fifty or a hundred. The man who neglects the interests of his school, in these great branches, to devote his time to two or three, or half a dozen older scholars, is unjust both to his employers and to himself. It is the duty, therefore, of every teacher, who commences a common district school, for a single season, to make, when he commences, an estimate, of the state of his pupils, in reference to these three branches. How do they all write? How do they all read? How do they calculate? It would be well if he would make a careful examination of the school, in this respect. Let them all write a specimen. Let all read; and let him make a memorandum of the manner, noticing how many read fluently, how many with difficulty, how many know only their letters, and how many are to be taught these. Let him ascertain also, what progress they have made in Arithmetic,--how many can readily perform the elementary processes, and what number need instruction in these. After thus surveying the ground, let him form his plan, and lay out his whole strength in carrying forward, as rapidly as possible, the _whole school_, in these studies. By this means he is acting, most directly and powerfully, on the intelligence of the whole future community in that place. He is opening to fifty or a hundred minds, stores of knowledge, which they will go on exploring, for years to come. What a descent now from such a work as this, to the mere hearing of the recitation of half a dozen boys in Surveying! I repeat it, that a thorough and enlightened survey of the whole school should be taken, and plans formed for elevating the whole mass, in those great branches of knowledge, which are to be of immediate practical use to them in future life. If the school is of higher order, the teacher should, in the same manner, before he forms his plans, consider well what are the great objects which he has to accomplish. He should ascertain what is the existing state of his school, both as to knowledge and character;--how long, generally, his pupils are to remain under his care,--what are to be their future stations and conditions in life, and what objects he can reasonably hope to effect for them, while they remain under his influence. By means of this forethought, and consideration, he will be enabled to work understandingly. It is desirable, too, that what I have recommended, in reference to the whole school, should be done with each individual. Ascertain, (by other means however than formal examination,) to what stage his education has advanced, and deliberately consider what objects you can reasonably expect to effect for him, while he remains under your care. You cannot indeed always form your plans to suit, so exactly, your general views in regard to the school and to individuals, as you could wish. But these general views will, in a thousand cases, modify your plans, or affect in a greater or less degree, all your arrangements. They will keep you to a steady purpose, and your work will go on far more systematically and regularly, than it would, if, as in fact many teachers do, you were to come headlong into your school, take things just as you find them, and carry them forward at random, without end or aim. This survey of your field being made, you are prepared to commence definite operations, and the great difficulty, in carrying your plans into effect, is, how to act more efficiently on _the greatest numbers at a time_. The whole business of public instruction, if it goes on at all, must go on by the teacher's skill in multiplying his power, by acting on _numbers at once_. In most books on education, we are taught, almost exclusively, how to operate on the _individual_. It is the error into which theoretic writers almost always fall. We meet, in every periodical, and in every treatise, and in fact, in almost every conversation on the subject, with remarks, which sound very well by the fire-side, but they are totally inefficient and useless in school, from their being apparently based upon the supposition, that the teacher has but _one_ pupil to attend to at a time. The great question in the management of schools, is not, how you can take _one_ scholar, and lead him forward, most rapidly, in a prescribed course, but how you can classify and arrange _numbers_, comprising every possible variety, both as to knowledge and capacity, so as to carry them all forward effectually together. The extent to which a teacher may multiply his power, by acting on numbers at a time, is very great. In order to estimate it, we must consider carefully what it is, when carried to the greatest extent, to which it is capable of being carried, under the most favorable circumstances. Now it is possible for a teacher to speak so as to be easily heard by three hundred persons, and three hundred pupils can be easily so seated, as to see his illustrations or diagrams. Now suppose that three hundred pupils, all ignorant of the method of reducing fractions to a common denominator, and yet all old enough to learn, are collected in one room. Suppose they are all attentive and desirous of learning, it is very plain that the process may be explained to the whole at once, so that half an hour spent in that exercise, would enable a very large proportion of them to understand the subject. So, if a teacher is explaining to a class in Grammar, the difference between a noun and verb, the explanation would do as well for several hundred, as for the dozen who constitute the class, if arrangements could only be made to have the hundreds hear it. But there are, perhaps, only a hundred in the school, and of these a large part understand already the point to be explained, and another large part are too young to attend to it. I wish the object of these remarks not to be misunderstood. I do not recommend the attempt to teach on so extensive a scale; I admit that it is impracticable; I only mean to show in what the impracticability consists, namely, in the difficulty of making such arrangements as to derive the full benefit from the instructions rendered. They are, in the nature of things, available to the extent I have represented, but, in actual practice, the full benefit cannot be derived. Now, so far as we thus fall short of this full benefit, so far there is, of course, waste; and it is difficult or impossible to make such arrangements as will avoid the waste, in this manner, of a large portion of every effort, which the teacher makes. A very small class instructed by an able teacher, is like a factory of a hundred spindles, with a water-wheel of power sufficient for a thousand. In such a case, even if the owner, from want of capital, or any other cause, cannot add the other nine hundred, he ought to know how much of his power is in fact unemployed, and make arrangements to bring it into useful exercise, as soon as he can. The teacher in the same manner, should understand what is the full beneficial effect, which it is possible, _in theory_, to derive from his instructions. He should understand, too, that just so far as he falls short of this full effect, there is waste. It may be unavoidable; part of it unquestionably is, like the friction of machinery, unavoidable. Still, it is waste; and it ought to be so understood, that by the gradual perfection of the machinery, it may be more and more fully prevented. Always bear in mind then, when you are devoting your time to two or three individuals in a class, that you are losing a very large part of your labor. Your instructions are conducive to good effect, only to the one tenth or one twentieth of the extent, to which, under more favorable circumstances, they might be made available. And though you cannot always avoid this loss, you ought always to be aware of it, and so to shape your measures, as to diminish it as much as possible. * * * * * We come now to consider the particular measures to be adopted, in giving instruction. * * * * * The objects which are to be secured, in the management of classes, are twofold, 1. Recitation. 2. Instruction. These two objects are, it is plain, entirely distinct. Under the latter, is included all the explanation, and assistance, and additional information, which the teacher may give his pupils, and, under the former, such an _examination_ of individuals, as is necessary to secure their careful attention to their lessons. It is unsafe to neglect either of these points. If the class meetings are mere _recitations_, they soon become dull and mechanical: the pupils generally take little interest in their studies, and imbibe no literary spirit. Their intellectual progress will, accordingly, suddenly cease, the moment they leave school, and cease to be called upon to recite lessons. On the other hand, if _instruction_ is all that is aimed at, and _recitation_, (by which I mean, as above explained, such an examination of individuals as is necessary to ascertain that they have faithfully performed the tasks assigned,) is neglected, the exercise soon becomes not much more than a lecture, to which those, and those only, will attend, who please. The business, therefore, of a thorough examination of the class must not be omitted. I do not mean, that each individual scholar must, every day, be examined; but simply that the teacher must, in some way or other, satisfy himself, by reasonable evidence, that the whole class are really prepared. A great deal of ingenuity may be exercised, in contriving means for effecting this object, in the shortest possible time. I know of no part of the field of a teacher's labors, which may be more facilitated, by a little ingenuity, than this. One teacher, for instance, has a spelling lesson to hear. He begins at the head of the line, and putting one word to each boy, goes regularly down, each successive pupil calculating the chances whether a word, which he can accidentally spell, will or will not come to him. If he spells it, the teacher cannot tell whether he is prepared or not. That word is only one among fifty, constituting the lesson. If he misses it, the teacher cannot decide that he was unprepared. It might have been a single accidental error. Another teacher, hearing the same lesson, requests the boys to bring their slates, and as he dictates the words, one after another, requires all to write them. After they are all written, he calls upon the pupils to spell them aloud as they have written them, simultaneously, pausing a moment after each, to give those who are wrong, an opportunity to indicate it, by some mark opposite the word misspelled. They all count the number of errors and report them. He passes down the class, glancing his eye at the work of each one, to see that all is right, noticing particularly those slates, which, from the character of the boys, need a more careful inspection. A teacher, who had never tried this experiment, would be surprised at the rapidity with which such work will be done by a class, after a little practice. Now how different are these two methods, in their actual results! In the latter case, the whole class are thoroughly examined. In the former, not a single member of it, is. Let me not be understood to recommend exactly this method of teaching spelling, as the best one to be adopted, in all cases. I only bring it forward as an illustration of the idea, that a little machinery, a little ingenuity, in contriving ways of acting on the _whole_, rather than on individuals, will very much promote the teacher's designs. In order to facilitate such plans, it is highly desirable that the classes should be trained to military precision and exactness in these manipulations. What I mean by this, may perhaps be best illustrated, by describing a case: it will show, in another branch, how much will be gained by acting upon numbers at once, instead of upon each individual in succession. Imagine, then, that a teacher requested all the pupils of his school, who could write, to take out their slates, at the hour for a general exercise. As soon as the first bustle of opening and shutting the desks was over, he looked around the room, and saw some ruling lines across their slates, others wiping them all over on both sides, with sponges, others scribbling, or writing, or making figures. "All those," says he, with a pleasant tone and look, "who have taken out any thing besides slates, may rise." Several, in various parts of the room, stood up. "All those, who have written any thing since they took out their slates, may rise too, and those who have wiped their slates." When all were up, he said to them, though not with a frown or a scowl, as if they had committed some very great offence; "Suppose a company of soldiers should be ordered to _form a line_, and instead of simply obeying that order, they should all set at work, each in his own way, doing something else. One man, at one end of the line, begins to load and fire his gun; another takes out his knapsack, and begins to eat his luncheon; a third amuses himself by going as fast as possible through the exercise; and another still, begins to march about, hither and thither, facing to the right and left, and performing all the evolutions he can think of. What should you say to such a company as that?" The boys laughed. "It is better," said the teacher, "when numbers are acting under the direction of one, that they should all act _exactly together_. In this way, we advance much faster, than we otherwise should. Be careful therefore to do exactly what I command, and nothing more." "_Provide a place, on your slates, large enough to write a single line_," added the teacher, in a distinct voice. I print his orders in italics, and his remarks and explanations in Roman letter. "_Prepare to write._" "I mean by this," he continued, "that you place your slates before you, with your pencils at the place where you are to begin, so that all may commence precisely at the same instant." The teacher who tries such an experiment as this, will find, at such a juncture, an expression of fixed and pleased attention upon every countenance in school. All will be intent; all will be interested. Boys love order and system, and acting in concert; and they will obey, with great alacrity, such commands as these, if they are good-humoredly, though decidedly expressed. The teacher observed in one part of the room, a hand raised, indicating that the boy wished to speak to him. He gave him liberty by pronouncing his name. "I have no pencil;" said the boy. A dozen hands, all around him, were immediately seen fumbling in pockets and desks, and, in a few minutes, several pencils were reached out for his acceptance. The boy looked at the pencils, and then at the teacher; he did not exactly know, whether he was to take one or not. "All those boys," said the teacher, pleasantly, "who have taken out pencils, may rise." "Have these boys done right, or wrong?" "Right;" "Wrong;" "Right;" answered their companions, variously. "Their motive was to help their classmate out of his difficulties; that is a good feeling, certainly." "Yes sir; right;" "Right." "But I thought you promised me a moment ago," replied the teacher, "not to do any thing, unless I commanded it. Did I ask for pencils?" A pause. "I do not blame these boys at all, in this case, still it is better to adhere rigidly to the principle, of _exact obedience_, when numbers are acting together. I thank them, therefore, for being so ready to assist a companion, but they must put their pencils away, as they were taken out without orders." Now such a dialogue as this, if the teacher speaks in a good-humored, though decided manner, would be universally well received, in any school. Whenever strictness of discipline is unpopular, it is rendered so, simply by the ill-humored and ill-judged means, by which it is attempted to be introduced. But all children will love strict discipline, if it is pleasantly, though firmly maintained. It is a great, though very prevalent mistake, to imagine, that boys and girls like a lax and inefficient government, and dislike the pressure of steady control. What they dislike is, sour looks and irritating language, and they therefore very naturally dislike every thing introduced or sustained by their means. If, however, exactness and precision in all the operations of a class and of the school, are introduced and enforced, in the proper manner, i. e., by a firm, but mild and good-humored authority, scholars will universally be pleased with them. They like to see the uniform appearance,--the straight line,--the simultaneous movement. They like to feel the operation of system, and to realize, while they are at the school room, that they form a community, governed by fixed and steady laws, firmly but pleasantly administered. On the other hand, laxity of discipline, and the disorder which will result from it, will only lead the pupils to contemn their teacher, and to hate their school. By introducing and maintaining such a discipline as I have described, great facilities will be secured for examining the classes. For example, to take a case different from the one before described; let us suppose that a class have been performing a number of examples in Addition. They come together to the recitation, and under one mode of managing classes, the teacher is immediately beset, by a number of the pupils, with excuses. One had no slate; another was absent when the lesson was assigned; a third performed the work, but it got rubbed out; and a fourth did not know what was to be done. The teacher stops to hear all these, and to talk about them; fretted himself, and fretting the delinquents by his impatient remarks. The rest of the class are waiting, and having nothing good to do, the temptation is almost irresistible to do something bad. One boy is drawing pictures on his slate, to make his neighbors laugh; another is whispering, and two more are at play. The disorder continues, while the teacher goes round examining slate after slate, his whole attention being engrossed by each individual, as the pupils come to him successively, while the rest are left to themselves, interrupted only by an occasional harsh or even angry, but utterly useless rebuke from him. But under _another_ mode of managing classes and schools, a very different result would be produced. A boy approaches the teacher to render an excuse, the teacher replies, addressing himself, however, to the whole class, "I shall give all an opportunity to offer their excuses presently. No one must come till he is called." The class then regularly take their places in the recitation seats; the prepared and unprepared together. The following commands are given and obeyed, promptly. They are spoken pleasantly, but still in the tone of command. "The class may rise." "All those, that are not fully prepared with this lesson, may sit." A number sit, and others, doubtful whether they are prepared or not, or thinking that there is something peculiar in their cases, which they wish to state, raise their hands, or make any other signal which is customary to indicate a wish to speak. Such a signal ought always to be agreed upon, and understood in school. The teacher shakes his head; saying "I will hear you presently. If there is, on any account whatever, any doubt whether you are prepared, you must sit." "Those that are standing may read their answers, to No. 1. Unit figure?" _Boys._ "Five." _Teacher._ "Tens?" _B._ "Six." _T._ "Hundreds?" _B._ "Seven." While these numbers are thus reading, the teacher looks at the boys, and can easily see whether any are not reading their own answers, but only following the rest. If they have been trained to speak exactly together, his ear will also at once detect any erroneous answer, which any one may give. He takes down the figures given by the majority, on his own slate, and reads them aloud. "This is the answer obtained by the majority: it is, undoubtedly right. Those, who have different answers may sit." These directions, if understood and obeyed, would divide the class evidently into two portions. Those standing, have their work done, and done correctly, and those sitting, have some excuse or error to be examined. A new lesson may now be assigned, and the first portion may be dismissed; which, in a well regulated school, will be two-thirds of the class. Their slates may be slightly examined, as they pass by the teacher, on their way to their seats, to see that all is fair; but it will be safe to take it for granted, that a result, in which a majority agree, will be right. Truth is consistent with itself, but error, in such a case, never is. This, the teacher can, at any time, show, by comparing the answers that are wrong; they will always be found, not only to differ from the correct result, but to contradict each other. The teacher may now, if be pleases, after the majority of the class have gone, hear the reasons of those who were unprepared, and look for the errors of those whose work was incorrect; but it is better to spend as little time as possible, in such a way. If a scholar is not prepared, it is not of much consequence, whether it is because he forgot his book, or mistook the lesson; or if it is ascertained that his answer is incorrect, it is, ordinarily, a mere waste of time, to search for the particular error. "I have looked over my work, sir," says the boy, perhaps, "and I cannot find where it is wrong." He means by it, that he does not believe that it is wrong. "It is no matter if you cannot," would be the proper reply, "since it certainly is wrong; you have made a mistake in adding, somewhere, but it is not worth while for me to spend two or three minutes apiece with all of you, to ascertain where. Try to be careful next time." The cases of those who are unprepared at a recitation, ought, by no means, to be passed by, unnoticed, although it would be unwise to spend much time in examining each, in detail. "It is not of much consequence," the teacher might say, "whether you have good excuses, or bad, so long as you are not prepared. In future life, you will certainly be unsuccessful, if you fail, no matter for what reason, to discharge the duties which devolve upon you. A carpenter, for instance, would certainly lose his work, if he should not perform it faithfully, and in season. Excuses, no matter how reasonable, will do him little good. So in this school. I want good recitations, not good excuses. I hope every one will be prepared to-morrow." It is not probable, however, that every one would be prepared the next day, in such a case; but, by acting steadily on these principles, the number of delinquencies would be so much diminished, that the very few which should be left, could easily be examined in detail, and the remedies applied. Simultaneous recitation, by which I mean the practice of addressing a question to all the class, to be answered by all together, is a practice, which has been for some years rapidly extending in our schools, and, if adopted with proper limits and restrictions, is attended with great advantage. The teacher must guard against some dangers, however, which will be likely to attend it. 1. Some will answer very eagerly, instantly after the question is completed. They wish to show their superior readiness. Let the teacher mention this, expose, kindly, the motive which leads to it, and tell them it is as irregular to answer before the rest, as after them. 2. Some will defer their answers, until they can catch those of their comrades, for a guide. Let the teacher mention this fault, expose the motive which leads to it, and tell them that, if they do not answer independently, and at once, they had better not answer at all. 3. Some will not answer at all. The teacher can tell by looking around the class who do not, for they cannot counterfeit the proper motion of the lips, with promptness and decision, unless they know what the answer is to be. He ought occasionally to say to such an one, "I perceive you do not answer;" and ask him questions individually. 4. In some cases, there is danger of confusion in the answers, from the fact that the question may be of such a nature, that the answer is long, and may, by different individuals, be differently expressed. This evil must be guarded against, by so shaping the question, as to admit of a reply in a single word. In reading large numbers, for example, each figure may be called for by itself, or they may be given one after another, the pupils keeping exact time. When it is desirable to ask a question to which the answer is necessarily long, it may be addressed to an individual, or the whole class may write their replies, which may then be read in succession. In a great many cases where simultaneous answering is practised, after a short time, the evils above specified are allowed to grow, until at last some half dozen bright members of a class answer for all, the rest dragging after them, echoing their replies, or ceasing to take any interest in an exercise, which brings no personal and individual responsibility upon them. To prevent this the teacher should exercise double vigilance, at such a time. He should often address questions to individuals alone, especially to those most likely to be inattentive and careless, and guard against the ingress of every abuse, which might, without close vigilance, appear. With these cautions, the method here alluded to will be found to be of very great advantage in many studies; for example, all the arithmetical tables may be recited in this way; words may be spelled, answers to sums given; columns of figures added, or numbers multiplied; and many questions in History, Geography, and other miscellaneous studies, answered, especially the general questions asked for the purpose of a review. But besides being useful as a mode of examination, this plan of answering questions simultaneously, is a very important means of fixing in the mind, any facts, which the teacher may communicate to his pupils. If, for instance, he says some day to a class, that Vasco de Gama was the discoverer of the passage round the Cape of Good Hope, and leaves it here, in a few days, not one in twenty, will recollect the name. But let him call upon them all to spell it, simultaneously, and then to pronounce it distinctly, three or four times in concert, and the word will be very strongly impressed upon the mind. The reflecting teacher will find a thousand cases, in the instruction of his classes, and in his general exercises, in the school, in which this principle will be of great utility. It is universal in its application. What we _say_, we fix by the very act of saying it, in the mind. Hence reading aloud, though a slower, is a far more thorough method, than reading silently; and it is better, in almost all cases, whether in the family, or in sabbath, or common schools, when general instructions are given, to have the leading points fixed in the mind, by questions, answered simultaneously. But we are wandering a little from our subject; which is, in this part of our chapter, the methods of _examining_ a class, not of giving or fixing instructions. Another mode of examining classes, which it is important to describe, consists in requiring _written answers_ to the questions asked. The form and manner, in which this plan may be adopted, is various. The class may bring their slates to the recitation, and the teacher may propose questions successively, the answers to which all the class may write, numbering them carefully. After a dozen answers are written, the teacher may call, at random, for them; or he may repeat a question, and ask each pupil to read the answer he had written; or he may examine the slates. Perhaps this method may be very successfully employed in reviews, by dictating to the class, a list of questions, relating to the ground they have gone over, for a week, and to which they are to prepare answers, written out at length, and to be brought in at the next exercise. This method may be made more formal still, by requiring a class to write a full and regular abstract of all they have learned, during a specified time. The practice of thus reducing to writing what has been learned, will be attended with many advantages, so obvious that they need not be described. It will be perceived that three methods of examining classes have now been named, and these will afford the teacher the means of introducing a very great variety, in his mode of conducting his recitations, while he still carries his class forward steadily in their prescribed course. Each is attended with its peculiar advantages. The _single replies_, coming from individuals specially addressed, are more rigid, and more to be relied upon;--but they consume a great deal of time, and while one is questioned, it requires much skill, to keep up interest in the rest. The _simultaneous answers_ of a class awaken more general interest, but it is difficult, without special care, to secure, by this means, a thorough examination of all. The _written replies_, are more thorough, but they require more time, and attention, and while they habituate the pupil to express his thoughts in writing, they would, if exclusively adopted, fail to accustom him to an equally important practice, that of the oral communication of his thoughts. A constant variety, of which these three methods should be the elements, is unquestionably the best mode. We not only, by this means, secure in a great degree the advantages which each is fitted to produce, but we gain, also, the additional advantage and interest of variety. By these, and perhaps by other means, it is the duty of the teacher to satisfy himself that his pupils are really attentive to their duties. It is not perhaps necessary, that every individual should be, every day, minutely examined; this is, in many cases, impossible. But the system of examination should be so framed, and so administered, as to be daily felt by all, and to bring upon every one, a daily responsibility. * * * * * We come now to consider the second general head, which was to be discussed in this chapter. The study of books alone, is insufficient to give knowledge to the young. In the first stage, learning to read, a book is of no use whatever, without the voice of the living teacher. The child cannot take a step alone. As the pupil, however, advances in his course, his dependence upon his teacher for guidance and help, continually diminishes, until, at last, the scholar sits in his solitary study, with no companion but his books, and desiring, for a solution of every difficulty, nothing but a larger library. In schools, however, the pupils have made so little progress in this course, that they all need more or less of this oral assistance. Difficulties must be explained; questions must be answered; the path must be smoothed, and the way pointed out, by a guide, who has travelled it before, or it will be impossible for the pupil to go on. This is the part of our subject, which we now approach. The great principle which is to guide the teacher, in this part of his duty, is this; _Assist your pupils, in such a way, as to lead them, as soon as possible, to do without assistance_. This is fundamental. In a short time they will be away from your reach; they will have no teacher to consult; and unless you teach them how to understand books themselves, they must necessarily stop suddenly in their course, the moment you cease to help them forward. I shall proceed, therefore, to consider the subject, in the following plan:-- 1. Means of exciting interest in study. 2. The kind and degree of assistance to be rendered. 3. Miscellaneous suggestions. 1. Interesting the pupils in their studies. There are various principles of human nature, which may be of great avail, in accomplishing this object. Making intellectual effort, and acquiring knowledge, are always pleasant to the human mind, unless some peculiar circumstances render them otherwise. The teacher has, therefore, only to remove obstructions, and sources of pain, and the employment of his pupils will be, of itself, a pleasure. "I am going to give you a new exercise to-day," said a teacher to a class of boys, in Latin. "I am going to have you parse your whole lesson, in writing. It will be difficult, but I think you may be able to accomplish it." The class looked surprised. They did not know what _parsing in writing_ could be. "You may first, when you take your seats, and are ready to prepare the lesson, write upon your slates, a list of the ten first nouns, arranging them in a column. Do you understand so far?" "Yes sir." "Then rule lines for another column, just beyond this. In parsing nouns, what is the first particular to be named?" "What the noun is from." "Yes; that is, its nominative. Now you may write, at the head of the first column, the word _Nouns_, and at the head of the second, _Nom._, for nominative. Then rule a line for the third column. What shall this contain?" "The declension." "Yes; and the fourth?" "Gender." "The fifth?" "Number." In the same manner the other columns were designated; the sixth, was to contain case; the seventh, the word, with which the noun was connected, in construction; and the eighth, a reference to the rule. "Now I wish you," continued the teacher, "to fill up such a table as this, with _ten_ nouns. Do you understand how I mean?" "Yes sir;" "No sir;" they answered, variously. "All who do understand may take their seats; as I wish to give as little explanation, as possible. The more you can depend upon yourselves, the better." Those who saw clearly what was to be done, left the class, and the teacher continued his explanation to those who were left behind. He made the plan perfectly clear to them, by taking a particular noun, and running it through the table, showing what should be written opposite to the word, in all the columns; and then dismissed them. The class separated, as every class would, in such a case, with strong interest in the work before them. It was not so difficult as to perplex them, and yet it required attention and care. They were interested and pleased;--pleased with the effort which it required them to make, and they anticipated, with interest and pleasure, the time of coming again to the class, to report and compare their work. When the time for the class came, the teacher addressed them somewhat as follows: "Before looking at your slates, I am going to predict what the faults are. I have not seen any of your work, but shall judge altogether from my general knowledge of school-boys, and the difficulties I know they meet with Do you think I shall succeed?" The scholars made no reply, and an unskilful teacher would imagine, that time spent in such remarks, would be wholly wasted. By no means. The influence of it was to awaken universal interest in the approaching examination of the slates. Every scholar would be intent, watching, with eager interest, to see whether the imagined faults would be found upon his work. The class was, by that single pleasant remark, put into the best possible state, for receiving the criticisms of the teacher. "The first fault, which I suppose will be found, is, that some are unfinished." The scholars looked surprised. They did not expect to have that called a fault. "How many plead guilty to it?" A few raised their hands, and the teacher continued. "I suppose that some will be found partly effaced. The slates were not laid away carefully, or they were not clean, so that the writing is not distinct. How many find this the case with their work?" "I suppose that, in some cases, the lines will not be perpendicular, but will slant, probably towards the left, like writing." "I suppose also, that, in some cases, the writing will be careless, so that I cannot easily read it. How many plead guilty to this?" After mentioning such other faults as occurred to him, relating chiefly to the form of the table, and the mere mechanical execution of the work, he said: "I think I shall not look at your slates to-day. You can all see, I have no doubt, how you can considerably improve them, in mechanical execution, in your next lesson; and I suppose you would a little prefer that I should not see your first imperfect efforts. In fact, I should rather not see them. At the next recitation, they probably will be much better." One important means by which the teacher may make his scholars careful of their reputation, is to show them, thus, that he is careful of it himself. Now, in such a case as this, for it is, except in the principles which it is intended to illustrate, imaginary, a very strong interest would be awakened in the class, in the work assigned them. Intellectual effort, in new and constantly varied modes, is in itself a pleasure, and this pleasure the teacher may deepen and increase very easily, by a little dexterous management, designed to awaken curiosity, and concentrate attention. It ought, however, to be constantly borne in mind, that this variety should be confined, to the modes of pursuing an object, which is permanent, and constant, and steadily pursued. For instance, if a little class are to be taught simple addition, after the process is once explained, which may be done, perhaps, in two or three lessons, they will need many days of patient practice, to render it familiar, to impress it firmly in their recollection, and to enable them to work with rapidity. Now this object must be steadily pursued. It would be very unwise for the teacher to say to himself; my class are tired of addition, I must carry them on to subtraction, or give them some other study. It would be equally unwise, to keep them many days performing example after example, in monotonous succession, each lesson a mere repetition of the last. He must steadily pursue his object, of familiarizing them fully with this elementary process, but he may give variety and spirit to the work, by changing occasionally the modes. One week he may dictate examples to them, and let them come together to compare their results; one of the class being appointed to keep a list of all who are correct, each day. At another time, each one may write an example, which he may read aloud to all the others, to be performed and brought in at the next time. Again, he may let them work on paper, with pen and ink, that he may see how few mistakes they make, as mistakes in ink, cannot be easily removed. He may excite interest by devising ingenious examples, such as finding out how much all the numbers from one to fifty will make, when added together, or the amount of the ages of the whole class; or any such example, the result of which they might feel a little interest in learning. Thus the object is steadily pursued, though the means of pursuing it, are constantly changing. We have the advantage of regular progress in the acquisition of knowledge truly valuable, while this progress is made, with all the spirit and interest which variety can give. The necessity of making such efforts as this, however, to keep up the interest of the class in their work, and to make it pleasant to them, will depend altogether upon circumstances; or rather, it will vary much with circumstances. A class of pupils somewhat advanced in their studies, and understanding and feeling the value of knowledge, will need very little of such effort as this; while young and giddy children, who have been accustomed to dislike books and school, and every thing connected with them, will need more. It ought, however, in all cases, to be made a means, not an end;--the means to lead on a pupil to an _interest in progress in knowledge itself_, which is, after all, the great motive, which ought to be brought, as soon and as extensively as possible, to operate in the school-room. Another way to awaken interest in the studies of the school, is to bring out as frequently, and as distinctly, as possible, the connexion between these studies and the practical business of life. The events which are occurring around you, and which interest the community in which you are placed, may, by a little ingenuity, be connected, in a thousand ways, with the studies of the school. If the practice, which has been already repeatedly recommended, of appropriating a quarter of an hour, each day, to a general exercise, should be adopted, it will afford great facilities for doing this. Suppose, for example, while the question between the General Government and the State of South Carolina, was pending, and agitating the whole country, almost every one looking, with anxious interest, every day, for intelligence from the scene of the conflict, that the teacher of a school, had brought up the subject, at such a general exercise as has been mentioned. He describes, in a few words, the nature of the question, and, in such a manner, as to awaken, throughout the school, a strong interest in the result of the contest. He then says, "I wish now to make you all more fully acquainted with this case, and the best way of doing it, which occurs to me, is as follows: "There are several studies in school, which throw light upon this controversy; especially History, Geography, and Political Economy. Now, I shall take the classes in these studies, for a day or two, out of their regular course, and assign them lessons which relate to this subject, and then hear them recite in the General Exercise, that you may all hear. The first class in Geography may take therefore, for their next lesson, the State of South Carolina; to-morrow they will recite in the hearing of the whole school, when I shall make such additional explanations, as will occur to me. The next day, I shall assign to the class in History, a passage giving an account of the formation of this government; and afterwards lessons will be recited from the Political Class Book, explaining the mode of collecting money for the use of our government, by duties, and the relative powers of the General and State Governments. After hearing all these lessons recited, with my remarks in addition, you will be the better able to understand the subject, and then I shall bring in a newspaper now and then, and keep you acquainted with the progress of the affair." Now the propriety of taking up the particular subject, which I have here introduced, by way of illustration, in such a way, would depend altogether upon the character and standing of the school; the age and mental maturity of the scholars, and their capacity to understand the circumstances of such a case, and to appreciate those considerations which give interest to it. The principle however, is applicable to all; and one such experiment, dexterously carried through, will do more towards giving boys and girls, clear and practical ideas of the reason why they go to school, and of the importance of acquiring knowledge, than the best lecture on such a subject, which ever was delivered. There is no branch of study attended to in school, which may, by judicious efforts, be made more effectual in accomplishing this object,--leading the pupils to see the practical utility, and the value of knowledge, than composition. If such subjects as are suitable themes for _moral essays_, are assigned, the scholars will indeed dislike the work of writing, and derive little benefit from it. The mass of pupils in our schools, are not to be writers of moral essays or orations, and they do not need to form that style of empty, florid, verbose declamation, which the practice of writing composition in our schools, as it is too frequently managed, tends to form. Assign practical subjects,--subjects relating to the business of the school,--or the events taking place around you. Is there a question before the community, on the subject of the location of a new school-house? Assign it to your pupils, as a question for discussion, and direct them not to write empty declamation, but to obtain, from their parents, the real arguments in the case, and to present them, distinctly and clearly, and in simple language, to their companions. Was a building burnt by lightning in the neighborhood? Let those who saw the scene, describe it; their productions to be read by the teacher aloud; and let them see that clear descriptions please, and that good legible writing can be read fluently, and that correct spelling, and punctuation, and grammar, make the article go smoothly and pleasantly, and enable it to produce its full effect. Is a public building going forward in the neighborhood of your school? You can make it a very fruitful source of subjects and questions, to give interest and impulse to the studies of the school-room. Your classes in geometry may measure,--your arithmeticians may calculate, and make estimates,--your writers may describe its progress, from week to week, and anticipate the scenes, which it will in future years exhibit. By such means, the practical bearings and relations of the studies of the school-room, may he constantly kept in view; but I ought to guard the teacher, while on this subject, most distinctly, against the danger of making the school-room a scene of literary amusement, instead of study. These means of awakening interest, and relieving the tedium of the uninterrupted and monotonous study of text books, must not encroach on the regular duties of the school. They must be brought forward with judgment and moderation, and made subordinate and subservient to these regular duties. Their design is, to give spirit, and interest, and a feeling of practical utility, to what the pupils are doing, and if resorted to, with these restrictions, and within these limits, they will produce powerful, but safe results. Another way to excite interest, and that of the right kind in school, is not to _remove_ difficulties, but to teach the pupils how to _surmount_ them. A text book so contrived as to make study mere play, and to dispense with thought and effort, is the worst text book that can be made, and the surest to be, in the end, a dull one. The great source of literary enjoyment, which is the successful exercise of intellectual power, is, by such a mode of presenting a subject, cut off. Secure therefore severe study. Let the pupil see that you are aiming to secure it, and that the pleasure which you expect that they will receive, is that of firmly and patiently encountering and overcoming difficulty; of penetrating, by steady and persevering effort, into regions, from which the idle and the inefficient are debarred; and that it is your province to lead them forward, not to carry them. They will soon understand this, and like it. Never underrate the difficulties which your pupils will have to encounter, or try to persuade them that what you assign is _easy_. Doing easy things is generally dull work, and it is especially discouraging and disheartening for a pupil to spend his strength in doing what is really difficult for him, when his instructer, by calling his work easy, gives him no credit, for what may have been severe and protracted labor. If a thing is really hard for the pupil, his teacher ought to know it, and admit it. The child then feels that he has some sympathy. It is astonishing how great an influence may be exerted over a child, by his simply knowing that his efforts are observed and appreciated. You pass a boy in the street, wheeling a heavy load, in a barrow; now simply stop to look at him, with a countenance which says, "that is a heavy load; I should not think that boy could wheel it;" and how quick will your look give fresh strength and vigor to his efforts. On the other hand, when, in such a case, the boy is faltering under his load, try the effect of telling him, "Why, that is not heavy; you can wheel it easily enough; trundle it along." The poor boy will drop his load, disheartened and discouraged, and sit down upon it, in despair. No, even if the work you are assigning to a class is easy, do not tell them so, unless you wish to destroy all their spirit and interest in doing it; and if you wish to excite their spirit and interest, make your work difficult, and let them see that you know it is so. Not so difficult as to tax their powers too heavily, but enough so, to require a vigorous and persevering effort. Let them distinctly understand too, that you know it is difficult,--that you mean to make it so,--but that they have your sympathy and encouragement, in the efforts which it calls them to make. You may satisfy yourself that human nature is, in this respect, what I have described, by some such experiment as the following:--Select two classes, not very familiar with elementary arithmetic, and offer to each of them the following example in Addition:-- 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2 &c. &c. The numbers may be continued, according to the obvious law regulating the above, until each one of the nine digits has commenced the line. Or, if you choose Multiplication, let the example be this:-- Multiply 123456789 by 123456789 --------- Now, when you bring the example to one of the classes, address the pupils as follows: "I have contrived for you a very difficult sum. It is the most difficult one that can be made, with the number of figures contained in it, and I do not think that any of you can do it, but you may try. I shall not be surprised if every answer should contain mistakes." To the other class, say as follows:-- "I have prepared an example for you, which I wish you to be very careful to perform correctly. It is a little longer than those you have had heretofore, but it is to be performed upon the same principles, and you can all do it correctly, if you really try." Now under such circumstances the first class will go to their seats with ardor and alacrity; determined to show you that they can do work, even if it is difficult. And if they succeed, they come to the class the next day, with pride and pleasure. They have accomplished something, which you admit it was not easy to accomplish. On the other hand, the second class will go to their seats, with murmuring looks and words; and with a hearty dislike of the task you have assigned them. They know that they have something to do, which, however easy it may be to the teacher, is really difficult for them, and they have to be perplexed and wearied with the work, without having at last, even the little satisfaction of knowing that the teacher appreciates the difficulties with which they had to contend. 2. We now come to consider the subject of rendering assistance to the pupil, which is one of the most important and delicate parts of a teacher's work. The great difference, which exists among teachers, in regard to the skill they possess in this part of their duty, is so striking that it is very often noticed by others; and perhaps skill here is of more avail, in deciding the question of success or failure, than any thing besides. The first great principle, is, however, simple and effectual. (1.) _Divide and subdivide a difficult process, until your steps are so short, that the pupil can easily take them._ Most teachers forget the difference between the pupil's capacity and their own, and they pass rapidly forward, through a difficult train of thought, in their own ordinary gait, their unfortunate followers vainly trying to keep up with them. The case is precisely analagous to that of the father, who walks with the step of a man, while his little son is by his side, wearying and exhausting himself, with fruitless efforts to reach his feet as far, and to move them as rapidly, as a full gown man. But to show what I mean by subdividing a difficult process, so as to make each step simple, I will take a case which may serve as an example. I will suppose that the teacher of a common school, undertakes to show his boys, who, we will suppose, are acquainted with nothing but elementary arithmetic, how longitude is ascertained, by means of the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites; not a very simple question, (as it would, at first view, strike one,) but still one which, like all others, may be, merely by the power of the subdivision alluded to, easily explained. I will suppose that the subject has come up at a general exercise,--perhaps the question was asked in writing, by one of the older boys. I will present the explanation, chiefly in the form of question and answer, that it may be seen, that the steps are so short, that the boys may take them themselves. "Which way," asks the teacher, "are the Rocky Mountains from us?" "West," answer two or three of the boys. In such cases as this, it is very desirable that the answers should be general, so that throughout the school, there should be a spirited interest in the questions and replies. This will never be the case, if a small number of the boys only take part in the answers; and many teachers complain, that, when they try this experiment, they can seldom induce many of the pupils to take a part. The reason ordinarily is, that they say that _any_ of the boys may answer, instead of that _all_ of them may. The boys do not get the idea that it is wished that an universal reply should come from all parts of the room in which every one's voice should be heard. If the answers were feeble, in the instance we are supposing, the teacher would perhaps say; "I only heard one or two answers: do not more of you know where the Rocky Mountains are? Will you all think, and answer together? Which way are they from us?" "West," answer a large number of boys. "You do not answer fully enough yet; I do not think more than forty answered, and there are about sixty here. I should like to have _every one in the room_ answer, and all precisely together." He then repeats the question, and obtains a full response. A similar effort will always succeed. "Now, does the sun, in going round the earth, pass over the Rocky Mountains, or over us, first?" To this question, the teacher hears a confused answer. Some do not reply; some say, "Over the Rocky Mountains;" others, "Over us;" and others still, "The sun does not move at all." "It is true that the sun, strictly speaking, does not move; the earth turns round, presenting the various countries, in succession, to the sun, but the effect is precisely the same as it would be, if the sun moved, and accordingly I use that language. Now, how long does it take the sun to pass round the earth?" "Twenty four hours." "Does he go towards the west, or towards the east, from us?" "Towards the west." But it is not necessary to give the replies; the questions alone will be sufficient. The reader will observe that they inevitably lead the pupil, by short and simple steps, to a clear understanding of the point to be explained. "Will the sun go towards, or from, the Rocky Mountains, after leaving us?" "How long did you say it takes the sun to go round the globe, and come to us again?" "How long to go half round?" "Quarter round?" "How long will it take him to go to the Rocky Mountains?" No answer. "You cannot tell. It would depend upon the distance. Suppose then the Rocky Mountains were half round the globe, how long would it take the sun to go to them?" "Suppose they were quarter round?" "The whole distance is divided into portions called degrees; 360 in all. How many will the sun pass, in going half round? In going quarter round?" "Ninety degrees then make one quarter of the circumference of the globe. This you have already said will take six hours. In one hour then, how many degrees will the sun pass over?" Perhaps no answer. If so, the teacher will subdivide the question, on the principle we are explaining, so as to make the steps such that the pupils _can_ take them. "How many degrees will the sun pass over in three hours?" "Forty-five." "How large a part of that, then, will he pass, in one hour?" "One third of it." "And what is one third of forty-five?" The boys would readily answer fifteen, and the teacher would then dwell for a moment, on the general truth, thus deduced, that the sun, in passing round the earth, passes over fifteen degrees every hour. "Suppose then it takes the sun one hour to go from us to the river Mississippi, how many degrees west of us, would the river be?" Having thus familiarized the pupils to the fact, that the motion of the sun is a proper measure of the difference of longitude between two places, the teacher must dismiss the subject, for a day, and when the next opportunity of bringing it forward occurs, he would perhaps take up the subject of the sun's motion as a measure of _time_. "Is the sun ever exactly over our heads?" "Is he ever exactly south of us?" "When he is exactly south of us, or in other words, exactly opposite to us, in his course round the earth, he is said to be in our meridian. For the word meridian means a line drawn exactly north or south from any place." There is no limit to the simplicity which may be imparted, even to the most difficult subjects, by subdividing the steps. This point for instance, the meaning of meridian, may be the subject, if it were necessary, of many questions, which would render it simple to the youngest child. The teacher may point to the various articles in the room, or buildings, or other objects without, and ask if they are or are not in his meridian. But to proceed: "When the sun is exactly opposite to us, in the south, at the highest point to which he rises, what o'clock is it?" "When the sun is exactly opposite to us, can he be opposite to the Rocky Mountains?" "Does he get opposite to the Rocky Mountains, before, or after, he is opposite to us?" "When he is opposite to the Rocky Mountains, what o'clock is it there?" "Is it twelve o'clock here, then, before, or after it is twelve o'clock there?" "Suppose the river Mississippi is fifteen degrees from us, how long is it twelve o'clock here, before it is twelve o'clock there?" "When it is twelve o'clock here then, what time will it be there?" Some will probably answer "one," and some "eleven." If so, the step is too long, and may be subdivided thus: "When it is noon here, is the sun going towards the Mississippi, or has he passed it?" "Then has noon gone by, at that river, or has it not yet come?" "Then will it be one hour before, or one hour after noon?" "Then will it be eleven, or one?" Such minuteness and simplicity would, in ordinary cases, not be necessary. I go into it here, merely to show, how, by simply subdividing the steps, a subject ordinarily perplexing, may be made plain. The reader will observe that in the above, there are no explanations by the teacher, there are not even leading questions; that is, there are no questions whose form suggests the answers desired. The pupil goes on from step to step, simply because he has but one short step to take at a time. "Can it be noon, then," continues the teacher, "here and at a place fifteen degrees west of us, at the same time?" "Can it be noon here, and at a place ten miles west of us, at the same time?" It is unnecessary to continue the illustration, for it will be very evident to every reader, that by going forward in this way, the whole subject may be laid out before the pupils, so that they shall perfectly understand it. They can, by a series of questions like the above, be led to see by their own reasoning, that time, as denoted by the clock, must differ in every two places, not upon the same meridian, and that the difference must be exactly proportional to the difference of longitude. So that a watch, which is right in one place, cannot, strictly speaking, be right in any other place, east or west of the first: and that, if the time of day, at two places, can be compared, either by taking a chronometer from one to another, or by observing some celestial phenomenon, like the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites, and ascertaining precisely the time of their occurrence, according to the reckoning at both; the distances east or west, by degrees, may be determined. The reader will observe, too, that the method by which this explanation is made, is strictly in accordance with the principle I am illustrating,--which is by simply _dividing the process into short steps_. There is no ingenious reasoning on the part of the teacher, no happy illustrations; no apparatus, no diagrams. It is a pure process of mathematical reasoning, made clear and easy by _simple analysis_. In applying this method, however, the teacher should be very careful not to subdivide too much. It is best that the pupils should walk as fast as they can. The object of the teacher should be to smooth the path, not much more than barely enough to enable the pupil to go on. He should not endeavor to make it very easy. (2.) Truths must not only be taught to the pupils, but they must be _fixed_, and _made familiar_. This is a point which seems to be very generally overlooked. "Can you say the Multiplication Table?" said a teacher, to a boy, who was standing before him, in his class. "Yes sir." "Well, I should like to have you say the line beginning nine times one." The boy repeated it slowly, but correctly. "Now I should like to have you try again, and I will, at the same time, say another line, to see if I can put you out." The boy looked surprised. The idea of his teacher's trying to perplex and embarrass him, was entirely new. "You must not be afraid," said the teacher; "you will undoubtedly not succeed in getting through, but you will not be to blame for the failure. I only try it, as a sort of intellectual experiment." The boy accordingly began again, but was soon completely confused by the teacher's accompaniment; he stopped in the middle of his line saying, "I could say it, only you put me out." "Well, now try to say the Alphabet, and let me see if I can put you out there." As might have been expected the teacher failed. The boy went regularly onward to the end. "You see now," said the teacher to the class which had witnessed the experiment, "that this boy knows his Alphabet, in a different sense, from that in which he knows his Multiplication table. In the latter, his knowledge is only imperfectly his own; he can make use of it only under favorable circumstances. In the former it is entirely his own; circumstances have no control over him." A child has a lesson in Latin Grammar to recite. She hesitates and stammers, miscalls the cases, and then corrects herself, and if she gets through at last, she considers herself as having recited well; and very many teachers would consider it well too. If she hesitates a little longer than usual, in trying to summon to her recollection a particular word, she says, perhaps, "Don't tell me," and if she happens at last to guess right, she takes her book with a countenance beaming with satisfaction. "Suppose you had the care of an infant school," might the instructer say to such a scholar; "and were endeavoring to teach a little child to count, and she should recite her lesson to you in this way; 'One, two, four, no, three;--one, two, three,-- -- stop, don't tell me,--five--no four--four--, five,-- -- -- I shall think in a minute,--six--is that right? five, six, &c.' Should you call that reciting well?" Nothing is more common than for pupils to say, when they fail of reciting their lesson, that they could say it at their seats, but that they cannot now say it, before the class. When such a thing is said for the first time, it should not be severely reproved, because nine children in ten honestly think, that if the lesson was learned so that it could be recited any where, their duty is discharged. But it should be kindly, though distinctly explained to them, that, in the business of life, they must have their knowledge so much at command, that they can use it, at all times, and in all circumstances, or it will do them little good. One of the most common causes of difficulty in pursuing mathematical studies, or studies of any kind, where the succeeding lessons depend upon those which precede, is the fact that the pupil, though he may understand what precedes, is not _familiar_ with it. This is very strikingly the case with Geometry. The class study the definitions, and the teacher supposes they fully understand them; in fact, they do _understand_ them, but the name and the thing are so feebly connected in their minds, that a direct effort, and a short pause, are necessary to recall the idea, when they hear or see the word. When they come on therefore to the demonstrations, which, in themselves, would be difficult enough, they have double duty to perform. The words used do not readily suggest the idea, and the connexion of the ideas requires careful study. Under this double burden, many a young geometrician sinks discouraged. A class should go on slowly, and dwell on details, so long as to fix firmly, and make perfectly familiar, whatever they undertake to learn. In this manner, the knowledge they acquire will become their own. It will be incorporated, as it were, into their very minds, and they cannot afterwards be deprived of it. The exercises which have for their object this rendering familiar what has been learned, may be so varied as to interest the pupil very much, instead of being tiresome, as it might, at first be supposed. Suppose, for instance, a teacher has explained to a large class in grammar, the difference between an adjective and an adverb: if he leave it here, in a fortnight, one half would have forgotten the distinction, but by dwelling upon it, a few lessons, he may fix it for ever. The first lesson might be to write twenty short sentences containing only adjectives. The second to write twenty, containing only adverbs. The third, to write sentences in two forms, one containing the adjective, and the other expressing the same idea by means of the adverb, arranging them in two columns, thus, He writes well. | His writing is good. Again, they may make out a list of adjectives, with the adverbs derived from each, in another column. Then they may classify adverbs on the principle of their meaning, or according to their termination. The exercise may be infinitely varied, and yet the object of the whole may be, to make _perfectly familiar_, and to fix for ever in the mind, the distinction explained. These two points seem to me to be fundamental, so far as assisting pupils through the difficulties which lie in their way, is concerned. Diminish the difficulties as far as is necessary, by merely shortening and simplifying the steps, and make thorough work as you go on. These principles carried steadily into practice, will be effectual, in leading any mind through any difficulties which may occur. And though they cannot perhaps be fully applied to every mind, in a large school, yet they can be so far acted upon, in reference to the whole mass, as to accomplish the object for a very large majority. 3. _General cautions._ A few miscellaneous suggestions, which we shall include under this head, will conclude this chapter. (1.) Never do any thing _for_ a scholar, but teach him to do it for himself. How many cases occur, in the schools of our country, where the boy brings his slate to the teacher, saying he cannot do a certain sum. The teacher takes the slate and pencil,--performs the work in silence,--brings the result,--and returns the slate to the hands of his pupil, who walks off to his seat, and goes to work on the next example; perfectly satisfied with the manner in which he is passing on. A man who has not done this a hundred times himself, will hardly believe it possible that such a practice can prevail. It is so evidently a waste of time, both for master and scholar. (2.) Never get out of patience with dulness. Perhaps I ought to say, never get out of patience with any thing. That would perhaps be the wisest rule. But above all things, remember that dulness and stupidity, and you will certainly find them in every school, are the very last things to get out of patience with. If the Creator has so formed the mind of a boy, that he must go through life slowly and with difficulty, impeded by obstructions which others do not feel, and depressed by discouragements which others never know, his lot is surely hard enough, without having you to add to it the trials and suffering, which sarcasm and reproach from you, can heap upon him. Look over your school-room, therefore, and wherever you find one, whom you perceive the Creator to have endued with less intellectual power than others, fix your eye upon him with an expression of kindness and sympathy. Such a boy will have suffering enough from the selfish tyranny of his companions; he ought to find in you, a protector and friend. One of the greatest pleasures which a teacher's life affords, is, the interest of seeking out such an one, bowed down with burdens of depression and discouragement,--unaccustomed to sympathy and kindness, and expecting nothing for the future, but a weary continuation of the cheerless toils, which have imbittered the past;--and the pleasure of taking off the burden, of surprising the timid disheartened sufferer by kind words and cheering looks, and of seeing, in his countenance, the expression of ease and even of happiness, gradually returning. (3.)The teacher should be interested in _all_ his scholars, and aim equally to secure the progress of all. Let there be no neglected ones in the school room. We should always remember that, however unpleasant in countenance and manners that bashful boy, in the corner, may be, or however repulsive in appearance, or unhappy in disposition, that girl, seeming to be interested in nobody, and nobody appearing interested in her, they still have, each of them, a mother, who loves her own child, and takes a deep and constant interest in its history. Those mothers have a right too, that their children should receive their full share of attention, in a school which has been established for the common and equal benefit of all. (4.) Do not hope or attempt to make all your pupils alike. Providence has determined that human minds should differ from each other, for the very purpose of giving variety and interest to this busy scene of life. Now if it were possible for a teacher, so to plan his operations, as to send his pupils forth upon the community, formed on the same model, as if they were made by machinery, he would do so much, towards spoiling one of the wisest of the plans which the Almighty has formed, for making this world a happy scene. Let it be the teacher's aim to cooperate with, not vainly to attempt to thwart the designs of Providence. We should bring out those powers with which the Creator has endued the minds placed under our control. We must open our garden to such influences as shall bring forward all the plants, each, in a way corresponding to its own nature. It is impossible, if it were wise, and it would be foolish, if it were possible, to stimulate, by artificial means, the rose, in hope of its reaching the size and magnitude of the apple-tree, or to try to cultivate the fig and the orange, where wheat only will grow. No; it should be the teacher's main design, to shelter his pupils from every deleterious influence, and to bring every thing to bear upon the community of minds before him, which will encourage, in each one, the developement of its own native powers. For the rest, he must remember that his province is to cultivate, not to create. Error on this point, is very common. Many teachers, even among those who have taken high rank, through the success with which they have labored in this field, have wasted much time, in attempting to do what can never be done; to form the character of those brought under their influence, after a certain uniform model, which they have conceived as the standard of excellence. Their pupils must write just such a hand, they must compose in just such a style, they must be similar in sentiment and feeling, and their manners must be formed according to a fixed and uniform model; and when, in such a case, a pupil comes under their charge whom Providence has designed to be entirely different from the beau ideal adopted as the standard, more time and pains, and anxious solicitude is wasted in vain attempts to produce the desired conformity, than half the school require beside. (5.) Do not allow the faults or obliquities of character, or the intellectual or moral wants, of any individual, of your pupils, to engross a disproportionate share of your time. I have already said, that those who are peculiarly in need of sympathy or help, should receive the special attention they seem to require; what I mean to say now, is, do not carry this to an extreme. When a parent sends you a pupil, who, in consequence of neglect or mismanagement, at home, has become wild and ungovernable, and full of all sorts of wickedness, he has no right to expect, that you shall turn your attention away from the wide field, which, in your whole school-room, lies before you, to spend your time, and exhaust your spirits and strength, in endeavoring to repair the injuries which his own neglect has occasioned. When you open a school, you do not engage, either openly or tacitly, to make every pupil who may be sent to you, a learned or a virtuous man. You do engage to give them all faithful instruction, and to bestow upon each such a degree of attention, as is consistent with the claims of the rest. But it is both unwise and unjust, to neglect the many trees in your nursery, which by ordinary attention, may be made to grow straight and tall, and to bear good fruit, that you may waste your labor upon a crooked stick, from which all your toil can secure very little beauty or fruitfulness. Let no one now understand me to say, that such cases are to be neglected. I admit the propriety, and in fact, have urged the duty, of paying to them a little more than their due share of attention. What I now condemn is the practice, of which all teachers are in danger, of devoting such a disproportionate and unreasonable degree of attention to them, as to encroach upon their duties to others. The school, the whole school, is your field, the elevation _of the mass_, in knowledge and virtue, and no individual instance, either of dulness or precocity, should draw you away from its steady pursuit. (6.) The teacher should guard against unnecessarily imbibing those faulty mental habits, to which his station and employment expose him. Accustomed to command, and to hold intercourse with minds which are immature and feeble, compared with our own, we gradually acquire habits, that the rough collisions and the friction of active life, prevent from gathering around other men. Narrowminded prejudices and prepossessions are imbibed, through the facility, with which, in our own little community, we adopt and maintain opinions. A too strong confidence in our own views on every subject, almost inevitably comes, from never hearing our opinions contradicted or called in question; and we express those opinions in a tone of authority and even sometimes of arrogance, which we acquire in the school-room, for there, when we speak, nobody can reply. These peculiarities show themselves first, and in fact, most commonly, in the school-room; and the opinions thus formed, very often relate to the studies and management of the school. One has a peculiar mode of teaching spelling, which is successful almost entirely through the magic influence of his interest in it, and he thinks no other mode of teaching this branch, is even tolerable. Another must have all his pupils write on the angular system, or the anti-angular system, and he enters with all the zeal into a controversy on the subject, as if the destiny of the whole rising generation, depended upon its decision. Tell him that all that is of any consequence in any handwriting, is, that it should be legible, rapid, and uniform, and that, for the rest, it would be better that every human being should write a different hand, and he looks upon you with astonishment, wondering that you cannot see the vital importance of the question, whether the vertex of an o should be pointed or round. So in every thing. He has _his way_ in every minute particular,--a way from which he cannot deviate, and to which he wishes every one else to conform. This set, formal mannerism is entirely inconsistent with that commanding, intellectual influence, which the teacher should exert in the administration of his school. He should work, with what an artist calls boldness and freedom of touch. Activity and enterprise of mind should characterize all his measures, if he wishes to make bold, original, and efficient men. (7.) Assume no false appearances, in your school, either as to knowledge or character. Perhaps it may justly be said to be the common practice of teachers in this country, to affect dignity of deportment in the presence of their pupils, which, in other cases, is laid aside; and to pretend to superiority in knowledge, and an infallibility of judgment, which no sensible man would claim before other sensible men, but which an absurd fashion seems to require of the teacher. It can however scarcely be said to be a fashion, for the temptation is almost exclusively confined to the young and the ignorant, who think they must make up by appearance, what they want in reality. Very few of the older, and more experienced, and successful instructers in our country, fall into it at all. But some young beginner, whose knowledge is very limited, and who, in manner and habits, has only just ceased to be a boy, walks into his school-room with a countenance of forced gravity, and with a dignified and solemn step, which is ludicrous even to himself. I describe accurately, for I describe from recollection. This unnatural, and forced, and ludicrous dignity, cleaves to him like disease, through the whole period of his duty. In the presence of his scholars, he is always under restraint,--assuming a stiff, and formal dignity, which is as ridiculous as it is unnatural. He is also obliged to resort to arts which are certainly not very honorable, to conceal his ignorance. A scholar, for example, brings him a sum in arithmetic, which he does not know how to perform. This may be the case with a most excellent teacher,--and one well qualified for his business. In order to be successful as a teacher, it is not necessary to understand every thing. Instead, however, of saying frankly, I do not understand that example, I will look at it and examine it, he looks at it embarrassed and perplexed, not knowing how he shall escape the exposure of his ignorance. His first thought is, to give some general directions to the pupil, and send him to his seat to make a new experiment, hoping that in some way or other, he scarcely knows how, he will get through; and, at any rate, if he does not, the teacher at least gains time by manoeuvre, and is glad to postpone his trouble, though he knows it must soon return. All efforts to conceal ignorance, and all affectation of knowledge not possessed, are as unwise as they are dishonest. If a scholar asks a question which you cannot answer, or brings you a difficulty which you cannot solve, say frankly, "I do not know." It is the only way to avoid continual anxiety and irritation, and the surest means of securing real respect. Let the scholars understand that the superiority of the teacher does not consist in his infallibility, or in his universal acquisitions, but in a well balanced mind, where the boundary between knowledge and ignorance is distinctly marked; in a strong desire to go forward, in mental improvement; and in fixed principles of action, and systematic habits. You may even take up in school, a study entirely new to you, and have it understood at the outset, that you know no more of it than the class commencing, but that you can be their guide, on account of the superior maturity and discipline of your powers, and the comparative ease with which you can meet and overcome difficulties. This is the understanding which ought always to exist between master and scholars. The fact that the teacher does not know every thing, cannot long be concealed, if he tries to conceal it; and in this, as in every other case, HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY. CHAPTER IV. MORAL DISCIPLINE. Under the title which I have placed at the head of this chapter, I intend to discuss the methods by which the teacher is to secure a moral ascendency over his pupils, so that he may lead them to do what is right, and bring them back to duty, when they do what is wrong. I shall use, in what I have to say, a very plain and familiar style; and as very much depends, not only on the general principles by which the teacher is actuated, but also on the tone and manner in which, in cases of discipline, he addresses his pupils, I shall describe particular cases, real and imaginary, because by this method, I can better illustrate the course to be pursued. I shall also present and illustrate the various principles which I consider important, and in the order in which they occur to my mind. 1. The first duty then, of the teacher, when he enters his school, is, to beware of the danger of making an unfavorable impression, at first, upon his pupils. Many years ago, when I was a child, the teacher of the school where my early studies were performed, closed his connexion with the establishment, and, after a short vacation, another was expected. On the appointed day, the boys began to collect, some from curiosity, at an early hour, and many speculations were started, as to the character of the new instructer. We were standing near a table, with our hats on,--and our position, and the exact appearance of the group is indelibly fixed on my memory,--when a small and youthful looking man, entered the room, and walked up towards us. Supposing him to be some stranger, or rather, not making any supposition at all, we stood looking at him as he approached, and were thunder-struck at hearing him accost us with a stern voice and sterner brow, "Take off your hats. Take off your hats, and go to your seats." The conviction immediately rushed upon our minds, that this must be our new teacher. The first emotion was that of surprise, and the second was that of the ludicrous; though I believe we contrived to smother the laugh, until we got out into the open air. So long since was this little occurrence, that I have entirely forgotten the name of the teacher, and have not the slightest recollection of any other act in his administration of the school. But this recollection of his first greeting of his pupils, and the expression of his countenance at the moment, will go with me to the end of life. So strong are first impressions. Be careful, then, when you first see your pupils, that you meet them with a smile. I do not mean a pretended cordiality, which has no existence in the heart, but think of the relation, which you are to sustain to them, and think of the very interesting circumstances, under which, for some months at least, your destinies are to be united to theirs, until you cannot help feeling a strong interest in them. Shut your eyes, for a day or two, to their faults, if possible, and take an interest in all their pleasures and pursuits, that the first attitude, in which you exhibit yourself before them, may be one, which shall allure, not repel. 2. In endeavoring to correct the faults of your pupils, do not, as many teachers do, seize only upon _those particular cases_ of transgression, which may happen to come under your notice. These individual instances are very few, probably, compared with the whole number of faults, against which you ought to exert an influence. And though you perhaps ought not to neglect those, which may accidentally come under your notice, yet the observing and punishing such cases, is a very small part of your duty. You accidentally hear, I will suppose, as you are walking home from school, two of your boys in earnest conversation, and one of them uses profane language. Now, the course to be pursued in such a case, is most evidently, not to call the boy to you, the next day, and punish him, and there let the matter rest. This would perhaps be better than nothing. But the chief impression which it would make upon the individual, and upon the other scholars, would be, "I must take care how I _let the master hear me_ use such language again." A wise teacher, who takes enlarged and extended views of his duty, in regard to the moral progress of his pupils, would act very differently. He would look at the whole subject. "Does this fault," he would say to himself, "prevail among my pupils? If so, how extensively?" It is comparatively of little consequence to punish the particular transgression. The great point is, to devise some plan to reach the whole evil, and to correct it, if possible. In one case, where such a circumstance occurred, the teacher managed it most successfully, in the following way. He said nothing to the boy, and in fact, the boy did not know that he was overheard. He allowed a day or two to elapse, so that the conversation might be forgotten, and then took an opportunity, one day, after school, when all things had gone on pleasantly, and the school was about to be closed, to bring forward the whole subject. He told the boys that he had something to say to them, after they had laid by their books, and were ready to go. The desks were soon closed, and every face in the room was turned towards the master, with a look of fixed attention. It was almost evening. The sun had gone down. The boys' labors were over. The day was done, and their minds were at rest, and every thing was favorable for making a deep and permanent impression. "A few days ago," says the teacher, when all was still, "I accidentally overheard some conversation between two of the boys of this school, and one of them swore." There was a pause. "Perhaps you expect that I am now going to call the boy out, and punish him. Is that what I ought to do?" There was no answer. "I think a boy who uses bad language of any kind, does what he knows is wrong. He breaks God's commands. He does what he knows would be displeasing to his parents, and he sets a bad example. He does wrong, therefore, and justly deserves punishment." There were, of course, many boys, who felt that they were in danger. Every one, who had used profane language, was aware that he might be the one, who had been overheard, and, of course, all were deeply interested in what the teacher was saying. "He might, I say," continued the teacher, "justly be punished, but I am not going to punish him; for if I should, I am afraid that it would only make him a little more careful hereafter, not to commit this sin when I could possibly be within hearing, instead of persuading him, as I wish to, to avoid such a sin, in future, altogether. I am satisfied that that boy would be far happier, even in this world, if he would make it a principle always to do his duty, and never, in any case, to do wrong. And then when I think how soon he, and all of us will be in another world, where we shall all be judged for what we do here, I feel strongly desirous of persuading him to abandon entirely this practice. I am afraid that punishing him now, would not do that." "Besides," continues the teacher, "I think it very probable that there are many other boys in this school, who are sometimes guilty of this fault, and I have thought that it would be a great deal better and happier for us all, if, instead of punishing this particular boy, whom I have accidentally overheard, and who probably is not more to blame than many other boys in school, I should bring up the whole subject, and endeavor to persuade all to reform." I am aware that there are, unfortunately, in our country, a great many teachers, from whose lips, such an appeal as this, would be wholly in vain. The man who is accustomed to scold, and storm, and punish, with unsparing severity, every transgression, under the influence of irritation and anger, must not expect that he can win over his pupils to confidence in him, and to the principles of duty, by a word. But such an appeal will not be lost, when it comes from a man, whose daily and habitual management corresponds with it. But to return to the story: The teacher made some farther remarks, explaining the nature of the sin, not in the language of execration, and affected abhorrence, but calmly, temperately, and without any disposition to make the worst of the occurrence which had taken place. In concluding what he said, he addressed the boys as follows: "Now boys, the question is, do you wish to abandon this habit, or not; if you do, all is well. I shall immediately forget all the past, and will do all I can to help you resist and overcome temptation in future. But all I can do, is, only to help you; and the first thing to be done, if you wish to engage in this work of reform, is, to acknowledge your fault; and I should like to know how many are willing to do this." "I wish all those who are willing to tell me whether they use profane language, would rise." Every individual but one, rose. "I am very glad to see so large a number," said the teacher; "and I hope you will find that the work of confessing and forsaking your faults, is, on the whole, pleasant, not painful business. Now those who can truly and honestly say, that they never do use profane language, of any kind, may take their seats." Three only, of the whole number, which consisted of not far from 20, sat down. It was in a sea-port town, where the temptation to yield to this vice is even greater, than would be, in the interior of our country, supposed possible. "Those who are now standing," pursued the teacher, "admit that they do, sometimes at least, commit this sin. I suppose all, however, are determined to reform; for I do not know what else should induce you to rise and acknowledge it here, unless it is a desire, hereafter to break yourselves of the habit. But do you suppose that it will be enough for you merely to resolve here, that you will reform?" "No sir," said the boys. "Why? If you now sincerely determine never more to use a profane word, will you not easily avoid it?" The boys were silent. Some said faintly, "No sir." "It will not be easy for you to avoid the sin hereafter," continued the teacher, "even if you do now, sincerely and resolutely, determine to do so. You have formed the habit of sin, and the habit will not be easily overcome. But I have detained you long enough now. I will try to devise some method, by which you may carry your plan into effect, and to-morrow I wilt tell you what it is." So they were dismissed for the day. The pleasant countenance and cheerful tone of the teacher conveying to them the impression, that they were engaging in the common effort to accomplish a most desirable purpose, in which they were to receive the teacher's help; not that he was pursuing them, with threatening and punishment, into the forbidden practice into which they had wickedly strayed. Great caution is however, in such a case, necessary, to guard against the danger, that the teacher, in attempting to avoid the tones of irritation and anger, should so speak of the sin, as to blunt their sense of its guilt, and lull their consciences into a slumber. At the appointed time, on the following day, the subject was again brought before the school, and some plans proposed, by which the resolutions now formed, might be more certainly kept. These plans were readily and cheerfully adopted by the boys, and in a short time, the vice of profaneness was, in a great degree, banished from the school. This whole account is substantially fact. I hope the reader will keep in mind the object of the above illustration, which is to show, that it is the true policy of the teacher, not to waste his time and strength, in contending against _such accidental instances_ of transgression, as may chance to fall under his notice, but to take an enlarged and extended view of the whole ground, endeavoring to remove _whole classes of faults_,--to elevate and improve _multitudes, together_. By these means, his labors will not only be more effectual, but far more pleasant. You cannot come into collision with an individual scholar, to punish him for a mischievous spirit, or even to rebuke him for some single act, by which he has given you trouble, without an uncomfortable and uneasy feeling, which makes, in ordinary cases, the discipline of a school, the most unpleasant part of a teacher's duty. But you can plan a campaign against a whole class of faults, and put into operation a system of measures to correct them, and watch from day to day the operation of that system, with all the spirit and interest of a game. It is in fact a game, where your ingenuity and moral power are brought into the field, in opposition to the evil tendencies of the hearts which are under your influence. You will notice the success or the failure of the means you may put into operation, with all the interest with which the experimental philosopher observes the curious processes he guides; though your interest may be much purer and higher; for he works upon matter, but you are experimenting upon mind. Remember then, as, for the first time you take your new station, that it is not your duty, simply to watch with an eagle eye for those accidental instances of transgression, which may chance to fall under your notice; you are to look over the whole ground; you are to make yourself acquainted, as soon as possible, with the classes of character, and classes of faults, which may prevail in your dominions, and to form deliberate and well digested plans, for improving the one and correcting the other. And this is to be the course pursued, not only with great delinquencies, such as those to which I have already alluded, but to every little transgression against the rules of order and propriety. You can correct them far more easily and pleasantly in the mass, than in detail. To illustrate this principle by another case. A teacher, who takes the course I am condemning, approaches the seat of one of his pupils, and asks to see one of his books. As the boy opens his desk, the teacher observes that it is in complete disorder. Books, maps, papers, playthings, are there in promiscuous confusion; and from the impulse of the moment, the displeased teacher pours out upon the poor boy a torrent of reproach. "What a looking desk! Why, John! I am really ashamed of you. Look," continues he, holding up the lid, so that the boys in the neighborhood can look in; "see what a mass of disorder and confusion. If ever I see your desk in such a state again, I shall most certainly punish you." The boys around laugh; very equivocally, however, for with the feeling of amusement, there is mingled the fear that the angry master may take it into his head to inspect their dominions. The boy accidentally exposed, looks sullen, and begins to throw his books into some sort of arrangement, just enough to shield himself from the charge of absolutely disobeying, and there the matter ends. Another teacher takes no apparent notice of the confusion he thus accidentally witnesses. "I must take up," thinks he to himself, "the subject of order, before the whole school. I have not yet spoken of it." He thanks the boy for the book he borrowed, and goes away. He makes a memorandum of the subject, and the boy does not know that the condition of his desk was noticed; perhaps he does not even know that there was any thing amiss. A day or two after, at a time regularly appropriated to such subjects, he addresses the boys as follows: "In our efforts to improve the school as much as possible, there is one subject, which we must not forget. I mean the order of the desks." The boys all begin to open their desk lids. "You may stop a moment," says the teacher. "I shall give you all an opportunity to examine your desks presently." "I do not know what the condition of your desks is. I have not examined them, and have not, in fact, seen the inside of more than one or two. As I have not brought up this subject before, I presume that there are a great many, which can be arranged better than they are. Will you all now look into your desks, and see whether you consider them in good order. Stop a moment however. Let me tell you what good order is. All those things which are alike, should be arranged together. Books should be in one place, papers in another, and thus every thing should be classified. Again, every thing should be so placed that it can be taken out without disturbing other _things_. There is another principle also, which I will mention, the various articles should have _constant_ places,--that is, they should not be changed from day to day. By this means, you soon remember where every thing belongs, and you can put away your things much more easily every night, than if you had every night to arrange them in a new way. Now will you look into your desks, and tell me whether they are, on these three principles, well arranged." The boys of most schools, where this subject had not been regularly attended to, would nearly all answer in the negative. "I will allow you then, some time to-day, fifteen minutes to arrange them, and I hope you will try to keep them in good order hereafter. A few days hence, I shall examine them. If any of you wish for assistance or advice from me, in putting them in order, I shall be happy to render it." By such a plan, which will occupy but little more time than the irritating and useless scolding, which I supposed in the other case, how much more will be accomplished. Such an address would, of itself, probably, be the means of putting in order, and keeping in order, at least one half; and following up the plan in the same manner, and in the same spirit, with which it was begun, would secure the rest. I repeat it, therefore, make it a principle in all cases, to aim as much as possible at the correction of those faults which are likely to be general, by _general measures_. You avoid by this means, a vast amount of irritation and impatience, both on your own part, and on the part of your scholars, and you produce at least twenty times the useful effect. 3. The next principle which occurs to me, as deserving the teacher's attention in the outset of his course, is this: Interest your scholars in doing something themselves to elevate the moral character of the school, so as to secure a _decided majority, who will, of their own accord, co-operate with you_. Let your pupils understand, not by any formal speech you make to that effect, but by the manner in which, from time to time, you incidentally allude to the subject, that you consider the school, when you commence it, as _at par_, so to speak,--that is, on a level with other schools, and that your various plans for improving and amending it, are not to be considered in the light of finding fault, and punishing transgressions, and controlling evil propensities, so as just to keep things in a tolerable state; but as efforts to improve and carry forward, to a state of excellence not yet attained, all the affairs of the institution. Such is the tone and manner of some teachers, that they never appear to be more than merely satisfied. When the scholars do right, nothing is said about it. The teacher seems to consider that a matter of course. It does not appear to interest or please him at all. Nothing arouses him, but when they do wrong, and that only excites him to anger and frowns. Now, in such a case, there can of course be no stimulus to effort on the part of the pupils, but the cold and heartless stimulus of fear. Now, it is wrong for the teacher to expect that things will go right in his school, as a matter of course. All that he can expect, _as a matter of course_, is, that things should go on as well as they do ordinarily in schools,--the ordinary amount of idleness,--the ordinary amount of misconduct. This is the most that he can expect to come as a matter of course; he should feel this, and then, all he can gain which will be better than this, will be a source of positive pleasure; a pleasure which his pupils have procured for him, and which consequently they should share. They should understand that the teacher is engaged in various plans for improving the school, in which they should be invited to engage, not from the selfish desire of thereby saving him trouble, but because it will really be happy employment for them to engage in such an enterprise, and because, by such efforts, their own moral powers will be exerted and strengthened in the best possible way. In another chapter, I have explained to what extent, and in what manner, the assistance of the pupils may be usefully and successfully employed, in carrying forward the general arrangements of the school. The same _principles_ will apply here, though perhaps a little more careful and delicate management is necessary, in interesting them in subjects which relate to moral discipline. One important method of doing this, is, to present these plans before the minds of the scholars, as experiments,--moral experiments, whose commencement, progress, and results, they may take a great interest in witnessing. Let us take, for example, the case alluded to under the last head,--the plan of effecting a reform in regard to keeping desks in order. Suppose the teacher were to say, when the time had arrived, at which he had promised to give them an opportunity to put them in order, "I think it would be a good plan to keep some account of our efforts for improving the school in this respect. We might make a record of what we do to-day, noting the day of the month, and the number of desks which may be found to be disorderly. Then at the end of any time you may propose, we will have the desks examined again, and see how many are disorderly. We can then see how much improvement has been made, in that time. Should you like to adopt the plan?" If the boys should appear not much interested in the proposal, the teacher might, at his own discretion, waive it. In all probability, however, they would like it, and would indicate their interest by their countenances, or perhaps by a response. If so, the teacher might proceed. "You may all examine your desks then, and decide whether they are in order, or not. I do not know, however, but that we ought to appoint a committee to examine them; for perhaps all the boys would not be honest, and report their desks as they really are." "Yes sir;" "Yes sir;" say the boys. "Do you mean that you will be honest, or that you would like to have a committee appointed?" There was a confused murmur. Some answer one, and some the other. "I think," proceeds the teacher, "the boys will be honest, and report their desks just as they are. At any rate, the number of dishonest boys in this school, cannot be so large as materially to affect the result. I think we had better take your own statements. As soon as the desks are all examined, those who have found theirs in a condition which does not satisfy them, are requested to rise and be counted." The teacher then looks around the room, and selecting some intelligent boy who has influence among his companions, and whose influence he is particularly desirous of enlisting on the side of good order, says, "Shall I nominate some one to keep an account of this plan?" "Yes sir," say the boys. "Well, I nominate William Jones. How many are in favor of requesting William Jones to perform this duty?" "It is a vote. William, I will thank you to write upon a piece of paper, that on the 8th of December, the subject of order in the desks was brought up, and that the boys resolved on making an effort to improve the school in this respect. Then say, that the boys reported all their desks which they thought were disorderly, and that the number was 35; and that after a week or two, the desks are to be examined again, and the disorderly ones counted, that we may see how much we have improved. After you have written it, you may bring it to me, and I will: tell you whether it is right." "How many desks do you think will be found to be disorderly, when we come to make the examination?" The boys hesitate. The teacher names successively several numbers, and asks, whether they think the real number will be greater or less. He notices their votes upon them, and at last fixes upon one, which seems to be about the general sense of the school. Then the teacher, himself mentions the number, which he supposes will be found to be disorderly. His estimate will ordinarily be larger than that of the scholars; because he knows better how easily resolutions are broken. This number too, is recorded, and then the whole subject is dismissed. Now, of course, no reader of these remarks, will understand me to be recommending, by this imaginary dialogue, (for the whole of it is imaginary,) a particular course to be taken in regard to this subject, far less the particular language to be used. All I mean is, to show by a familiar illustration, how the teacher is to endeavor to enlist the interest, and to excite the curiosity of his pupils, in his plans for the improvement of his school, by presenting them as moral experiments, which they are to assist him in trying,--experiments, whose progress they are to watch, and whose results they are to predict. If the precise steps which I have described, should actually be taken, although it would occupy but a few minutes, and would cause no thought, and no perplexing care, yet it would undoubtedly be the means of awakening a very general interest in the subject of order, throughout the school. All would be interested in the work of arrangement. All would watch, too, with interest, the progress and the result of the experiment; and if, a few days after, the teacher should accidentally, in recess, see a disorderly desk, a pleasant remark, made with a smile, to the bystanders, "I suspect my prediction will turn out the correct one," would have far more effect, than the most severe reproaches, or the tingling of a rap over the knuckles with a rattan. I know, from experience, that scholars of every kind, can be led, by such measures as these, or rather by such a spirit as this, to take an active interest, and to exert a most powerful influence, in regard to the whole condition of the institution. I have seen the experiment successful in boys' schools, and in girls' schools; among very little children, and among the seniors and juniors at college. In one of the colleges of New England, a new and beautiful edifice was erected. The lecture rooms were fitted up in handsome style, and the officers, when the time for the occupation of the building approached, were anticipating with regret, what seemed to be the unavoidable defacing, and cutting, and marking of the seats and walls. It was however thought, that if the subject was properly presented to the students, they would take an interest in preserving the property from injury. They were accordingly addressed somewhat as follows: "It seems, young gentlemen, to be generally the custom in colleges, for the students to ornament the walls and benches of their recitation rooms, with various inscriptions and carricatures, so that after the premises have been for a short time in the possession of a class, every thing within reach, which will take an impression from a penknife, or a trace from a pencil, is covered with names, and dates, and heads, and inscriptions of every kind. The faculty do not know what you wish in this respect, in regard to the new accommodations which the Trustees have now provided for you, and which you are soon to enter. They have had them fitted up for you handsomely, and if you wish to have them kept in good order, we will assist you. If the students think proper to express by a vote, or in any other way, their wish to keep them in good order, we will engage to have such incidental injuries, as may from time to time occur, immediately repaired. Such injuries will, of course, be done; for whatever may be the wish and general opinion of the whole, it is not to be expected that every individual, in so large a community, will be careful. If, however, as a body, you wish to have the building preserved in its present state, and will, as a body, take the necessary precautions, we will do our part." The students responded to this appeal most heartily. They passed a vote, expressing a desire to preserve the premises in order, and for many years, and for ought I know, to the present hour, the whole is kept as a room occupied by gentlemen should be kept. At some other colleges, and those, too, sustaining the very highest rank among the institutions of the country, the doors of the public buildings are sometimes _studded with nails, as thick as they can possibly be driven, and then covered with a thick coat of sand, dried into the paint, as a protection from the knives of the students_!! The particular methods, by which the teacher is to interest his pupils in his various plans for their improvement, cannot be very fully described here. In fact, it does not depend so much on the methods he adopts, as upon the view which he himself takes of these plans, and the _tone and manner in which he speaks of them to his pupils_. A teacher, for example, perhaps on the first day of his labors in a new school, calls a class to read. They pretend to form a line, but it crooks in every direction. One boy is leaning back against a desk; another comes forward as far as possible, to get near the fire; the rest lounge in every position and in every attitude. John is holding up his book high before his face, to conceal an apple, from which he is endeavoring to secure an enormous bite. James is by the same sagacious device, concealing a whisper, which he is addressing to his next neighbor, and Moses is seeking amusement by crowding and elbowing the little boy who is unluckily standing next him. "What a spectacle!" says the master to himself, as he looks at this sad display. "What shall I do?" The first impulse is, to break forth upon them at once, with all the artillery of reproof, and threatening, and punishment. I have seen, in such a case, a scolding and frowning master walk up and down before such a class, with a stern and angry air, commanding this one to stand back, and that to come forward, ordering one boy to put down his book, and scolding at a second for having lost his place, and knocking the knees of another with his rule, because he was out of the line. The boys scowl at their teacher, and, with ill-natured reluctance, they obey, just enough to escape punishment. Another teacher looks calmly at the scene, and says to himself, "What shall I do to remove effectually these evils? If I can but interest the boys in reform, it will be far more easy to effect it, than if I attempt to accomplish it by the mere exercise of my authority." In the meantime, things go on, during the reading, in their own way. The teacher simply _observes_. He is in no haste to commence his operations. He looks for the faults; watches, without seeming to watch, the movements which he is attempting to control. He studies the materials with which he is to work, and lets their true character develope itself. He tries to find something to approve in the exercise, as it proceeds, and endeavors to interest the class, by narrating some fact, connected with the reading, or making some explanation which interests the boys. At the end of the exercise, he addresses them, perhaps, as follows: "I have observed, boys, in some military companies, that the officers are very strict, requiring implicit and precise obedience. The men are required to form a precise line." (Here there is a sort of involuntary movement all along the line, by which, it is very sensibly straightened.) "They make all the men stand erect," (At this word, heads go up, and straggling feet draw in, all along the class,) "in the true military posture. They allow nothing to be done in the ranks, but to attend to the exercise," (John hastily crowds his apple into his pocket,) "and thus they regulate every thing, in exact and steady discipline, so that all things go on in a most systematic and scientific manner. This discipline is so admirable in some countries, especially in Europe, where much greater attention is paid to military tactics than in our country, that I have heard it said by travellers, that some of the soldiers who mount guard at public places, look as much like statues, as they do like living men. "Other commanders act differently. They let the men do pretty much as they please. So you will see such a company lounging into a line, when the drum beats, as if they took little interest in what was going on. While the captain is giving his commands, one is eating his luncheon; another is talking with his next neighbor. Part are out of the line; part lounge on one foot; they hold their guns in every position; and on the whole, present a very disorderly and unsoldier-like appearance. "I have observed, too, that boys very generally prefer to _see_ the strict companies, but perhaps they would prefer to _belong_ to the lax ones." "No sir;" "No sir;" say the boys. "Suppose you all had your choice either to belong to a company like the first one I described, where the captain was strict in all his requirements, or to one like the latter, where you could do pretty much as you pleased, which should you prefer?" Unless I entirely mistaken in my idea of the inclinations of boys, it would be very difficult to get a single honest expression of preference for the latter. They would say with one voice, "The first." "I suppose it would be so. You would be put to some inconvenience by the strict commands of the captain, but then you would be more than paid by the beauty of regularity and order, which you would all witness. There is nothing so pleasant as regularity, and nobody likes regularity more than boys do. To show this, I should like to have you now form a line as exact as you can." After some unnecessary shoving and pushing, increased by the disorderly conduct of a few bad boys, a line is formed. Most of the class are pleased with the experiment, and the teacher takes no notice of the few exceptions. The time to attend to _them_, will come by and by. "Hands down." The boys obey. "Shoulders back." "There;--there is a very perfect line." "Do you stand easily in that position?" "Yes sir." "I believe your position is the military one, now, pretty nearly; and military men study the postures of the human body, for the sake of finding the one most easy; for they wish to preserve as much as possible of the soldiers' strength, for the time of battle. I should like to try the experiment of your standing thus, at the next lesson. It is a very great improvement upon your common mode. Are you willing to do it?" "Yes sir;" say the boys. "You will get tired, I have no doubt. In fact, I do not expect you will succeed, the first day, very well. You will probably become restless and uneasy, before the end of the lesson, especially the smaller boys. I must excuse it, I suppose, if you do, as it will be the first time." By such methods as these, the teacher will certainly secure a majority in favor of all his plans. But perhaps some experienced teacher, who knows from his own repeated difficulties with bad boys, what sort of spirits the teacher of district schools has sometimes to deal with, may ask, as he reads this, "Do you expect that such a method as this, will succeed in keeping your school in order? Why, there are boys in almost every school, whom you would no more coax into obedience and order in this way, than you would persuade the northeast wind to change its course by reasoning." I know there are. And my readers are requested to bear in mind, that my object is not now to show, how the whole government of the school may be secured, but how one important advantage may be gained, which will assist in accomplishing the object. All I should expect or hope for, by such measures as these, is _to interest and gain over to our side, the majority_. What is to be done with those who cannot be reached by such kinds of influence, I shall endeavor presently to show. The object now is, simply to gain the _majority_,--to awaken a general interest, which you can make effectual in promoting your plans, and thus to narrow the field of discipline, by getting those right, who can be got right by such measures. Thus securing a majority to be on your side in the general administration of the school, is absolutely indispensable to success. A teacher may, by the force of mere authority, so control his pupils, as to preserve order in the school-room, and secure a tolerable progress in study, but the heart will not be in it. The progress in knowledge must accordingly be, in ordinary cases, slow, and the cultivation of moral principle must be, in such a case, entirely neglected. The principles of duty cannot be inculcated by fear; and though pain and terror must, in many instances, be called in to coerce an individual offender, whom milder measures will not reach, yet these agents, and others like them, can never be successfully employed, as the ordinary motives to action. They cannot produce any thing but mere external and heartless obedience in the presence of the teacher, with an inclination to throw off all restraint, when the pressure of stern authority is removed. We should all remember that our pupils are, but a very short time, under our direct control. Even when they are in school, the most untiring vigilance will not enable us to watch, except for a very small portion of the time, any individual. Many hours of the day, too, they are entirely removed from our inspection, and a few months will take them away from us altogether. Subjecting them then to mere external restraint, is a very inadequate remedy for the moral evil, to which they are exposed. What we aim at, is to bring forward and strengthen an internal principle, which will act, when both parent and teacher are away, and control where external circumstances are all unfavorable. I have thus far under this head, been endeavoring to show the importance of securing, by gentle measures, a majority of the scholars, to co-operate with the teacher in his plans. The methods of doing this, demand a little attention. (1.) The teacher should study human nature as it exhibits itself in the school-room, by taking an interest in the sports and enjoyments of the pupils, and connecting, as much as possible, what is interesting and agreeable, with the pursuits of the school, so as to lead the scholars to like the place. An attachment to the institution and to the duties of it, will give the teacher a very strong hold upon the community of mind which exists there. (2.) Every thing which is unpleasant in the discipline of the school should be attended to, as far as possible, privately. Sometimes it is necessary to bring a case forward in public, for reproof or punishment, but this is seldom. In some schools, it is the custom to postpone cases of discipline, till the close of the day, and then, just before the boys are dismissed at night, all the difficulties are settled. Thus, day after day, the impression which is last made upon their minds, is received from a season of suffering, and terror, and tears. Now such a practice may be attended with many advantages, but it seems to be, on the whole, unwise. Awing the pupils, by showing them the consequences of doing wrong, should be very seldom resorted to. It is far better to allure them, by showing them the pleasures of doing right. Doing right is pleasant to every body, and no persons are so easily convinced of this, or rather so easily led to see it, as children. Now the true policy is, to let them experience the pleasure of doing their duty, and they will easily be allured to it. In many cases, where a fault has been publicly committed, it seems, at first view, to be necessary that it should be publicly punished; but the end will, in most cases, be answered, if it is noticed publicly, so that the pupils may know that it received attention, and then the ultimate disposal of the case, may be made a private affair, between the teacher and the individual concerned. If, however, every case of disobedience, or idleness, or disorder, is brought out publicly before the school, so that all witness the teacher's displeasure, and feel the effects of it, (for to witness it, is to feel its most unpleasant effects,) the school becomes, in a short time, hardened to such scenes. Unpleasant associations become connected with the management of the school, and the scholars are prepared to do wrong with less reluctance, since the consequence is only a repetition of what they are obliged to see every day. Besides, if a boy does something wrong, and you severely reprove him in the presence of his class, you punish the class, almost as much as you do him. In fact, in many cases, you punish them more; for I believe it is almost invariably more unpleasant for a good boy to stand by and listen to rebukes, than for a bad boy to take them. Keep these things, therefore, as much as possible, out of sight. Never bring forward cases of discipline, except on mature deliberation, and for a distinct and well-defined purpose. (3.) Never bring forward a case of discipline of this kind, unless you are sure that public opinion will go in your favor. If a case comes up, in which the sympathy of the scholars is excited for the criminal, in such a way as to be against yourself, it will always do more harm than good. Now this, unless there is great caution, will often be the case. In fact, it is probable that a very large proportion of the punishments which are ordinarily inflicted in schools, only prepare the way for more offences. It is, however, possible to bring forward individual cases in such a way, as to produce a very strong moral effect, of the right kind. This is to be done by seizing upon those peculiar emergencies, which will arise in the course of the administration of a school, and which each teacher must watch for, and discover himself. They cannot be pointed out. I may, however, give a clearer idea of what is meant, by such emergencies, by an example. It is a case which actually occurred, as here narrated. In a school where nearly all the pupils were faithful and docile, there were one or two boys, who were determined to find amusement in those mischievous tricks, so common in schools and colleges. There was one boy in particular, who was the life and soul of all these plans. Devoid of principle, idle as a scholar, morose and sullen in his manners, he was, in every respect, a true specimen of the whole class of mischief-makers, wherever they are to be found. His mischief consisted, as usual, in such exploits as stopping up the keyhole, upsetting the teacher's inkstand, or fixing something to his desk to make a noise, and interrupt the school. It so happened, that there was a standing feud between the boys of his neighborhood, and those of another, situated a mile or two from it. By his malicious activity, he had stimulated this quarrel to a high pitch, and was very obnoxious to the boys of the other party. One day, when taking a walk, the teacher observed a number of boys with excited looks, and armed with sticks and stones, standing around a shoe-maker's shop, to which his poor pupil had gone for refuge from them. They had got him completely within their power, and were going to wait until he should be wearied with his confinement, and come out, when they were going to inflict upon him the punishment they thought he deserved. The teacher interfered, and by the united influence of authority, management, and persuasion, succeeded in effecting a rescue. The boy would probably have preferred to owe his safety to any one else, than to the teacher, whom he had so often tried to tease; but he was glad to escape in any way. The teacher said nothing about the subject, and the boy soon supposed it was entirely forgotten. But it was not forgotten. The teacher knew perfectly well that the boy would, before long, be at his old tricks again, and was reserving this story as the means of turning the whole current of public opinion against such tricks should they again occur. One day he came to school, in the afternoon, and found the room filled with smoke; the doors and windows were all closed, though, as soon as he came in, some of the boys opened them. He knew by this circumstance, that it was roguery, not accident, which caused the smoke. He appeared not to notice it, however, said he was sorry it smoked, and asked the mischievous boy, for he was sure to be always near in such a case, to help him fix the fire. The boy supposed it was understood to be accidental, and perhaps secretly laughed at the dulness of his master. In the course of the afternoon, the teacher ascertained, by private inquiries, that his suspicions were correct, as to the author of the mischief. At the close of school, when the studies were ended, and the books laid away, he told the scholars that he wanted to tell them a story. He then, with a pleasant tone and manner, gave a very minute, and, to the boys, a very interesting narrative of his adventure, two or three weeks before, when he rescued this boy from his danger. He called him, however, simply _a boy_, without mentioning his name, or even hinting that he was a member of the school. No narrative could excite a stronger interest among an audience of school-boys, than such an one as this; and no act of kindness from a teacher, would make as vivid an impression, as interfering to rescue a trembling captive, from such a situation as the one this boy had been in. The scholars listened with profound interest and attention, and though the teacher said little about his share in the affair, and spoke of what he did, as if it were a matter of course, that he should thus befriend a boy in distress, an impression, very favorable to himself, must have been made. After he had finished his narrative, he said, "Now should you like to know who this boy was?" "Yes sir;" "Yes sir;" said they, eagerly. "It was a boy that you all know." The boys looked around upon one another. Who could it be? "He is a member of this school." There was an expression of fixed, and eager, and increasing interest, on every face in the room. "He is here now," said the teacher, winding up the interest and curiosity of the scholars, by these words, to the highest pitch. "But I cannot tell you his name; for what return do you think he made to me? To be sure it was no very great favor that I did him; I should have been unworthy the name of teacher, if I had not done it for him, or for any boy in my school. But at any rate, it showed my good wishes for him,--it showed that I was his friend, and what return do you think he made me for it? Why, to-day he spent his time between schools in filling the room with smoke, that he might torment his companions here, and give me trouble, and anxiety and suffering, when I should come. If I should tell you his name, the whole school would turn against him for his ingratitude." The business ended here, and it put a stop, a final stop to all malicious tricks in the school. Now it is not very often that so fine an opportunity occurs, to kill, by a single blow, the disposition to do wilful, wanton injury, as this circumstance afforded; but the principle illustrated by it,--bringing forward individual cases of transgression, in a public manner, only for the sake of the general effect, and so arranging what is said and done as to produce the desired effect upon the public mind, in the highest degree, may very frequently be acted upon. Cases are continually occurring, and if the teacher will keep it constantly in mind, that when a particular case comes before the whole school, the object is an influence upon the whole, and not the punishment or reform of the guilty individual, he will insensibly so shape his measures, as to produce the desired result. (4.) There should be a great difference made between the _measures you take_ to prevent wrong, and the _feelings of displeasure_ against wrong, when it is done. The former should be strict, authoritative, unbending; the latter should be mild and gentle. Your measures, if uniform and systematic will never give offence, however powerfully you may restrain and control. It is the morose look, the harsh expression, the tone of irritation and fretfulness which is so unpopular in school. The sins of childhood are by nine tenths of mankind enormously overrated, and perhaps none overrate them, more extravagantly, than teachers. We confound the trouble they give us, with their real moral turpitude, and measure the one by the other. Now if a fault prevails in school, one teacher will scold and fret himself about it, day after day, until his scholars are tired both of school and of him: and yet he will do nothing effectual to remove it. Another will take efficient and decided measures, and yet say very little on the subject, and the whole evil will be removed, without suspending for a moment, the good humor, and pleasant feeling, which should prevail in school. The expression of your displeasure on account of any thing that is wrong, will seldom or never do any good. The scholars consider it scolding; it is scolding, and though it may, in many cases, contain many sound arguments and eloquent expostulations, it operates simply as a punishment. It is unpleasant to hear it. General instruction must indeed be given, but not general reproof. (5.) Feel that, in the management of the school, _you_ are under obligation as well as the scholars, and let this feeling appear in all that you do. Your scholars wish you to dismiss school earlier than usual on some particular occasion, or to allow them an extra holiday. Show by the manner in which you consider and speak of the question, that your main inquiry is what is _your duty_. Speak often of your responsibility to your employers, not formally, but incidentally and naturally as you will speak, if you feel this responsibility. It will assist very much too, in securing cheerful, good-humored obedience to the regulations of the school, if you extend their authority over yourself. Not that the teacher is to have no liberty from which the scholars are debarred; this would be impossible. But the teacher should submit, himself, to every thing which he requires of his scholars, unless it is in cases where a different course is _necessary_. Suppose for instance, a study card, like the one described in a preceding chapter, is made, so as to mark the time of recess and of study. The teacher near the close of recess, is sitting with a group of his pupils around him, telling them some story. They are all interested, and they see he is interested. He looks at his watch, and shows by his manner, that he is desirous of finishing what he is saying, but that he knows that the striking of the bell will cut short his story. Perhaps he says not a word about it, but his pupils see that he is submitting to the control which is placed over them: and when the card goes up, and he stops instantly in the middle of his sentence, and rises with the rest, each one to go to his own place, to engage at once in their several duties, he teaches them a most important lesson, and in the most effectual way. Such a lesson of fidelity and obedience, and such an example of it, will have more influence, than a half hour's scolding about whispering without leave, or a dozen public punishments. At least so I find it, for I have tried both. Show then continually, that you see and enjoy the beauty of system and strict discipline, and that you submit to it yourself, as well as require it of others. (6.) Lead your pupils to see that they must share with you, the credit or the disgrace, which success or failure may bring. Lead them to feel this, not by telling them so, for there are very few things which can be impressed upon children by direct efforts to impress them; but by so speaking of the subject, from time to time, as to lead them to see that you understand it so. Repeat, with judicious caution, what is said of the school, both for and against it, and thus endeavor to interest the scholars in its public reputation. This feeling of interest in the institution may very easily be awakened. It sometimes springs up, spontaneously, and where it is not guided aright by the teacher, sometimes produces very bad effects upon the minds of the pupils, in rival institutions. When two schools are situated near each other, evil consequences will result from this feeling, unless the teacher manages it so as to deduce good consequences. I recollect, that, in my boyish days, there was a standing quarrel between the boys of a town school and an academy, which were in the same village. We were all ready, at any time, when out of school, to fight for the honor of our respective institutions, but very few were ready to be diligent and faithful, when in it, though it would seem that that might have been rather a more effectual means of establishing the point. If the scholars are led to understand that the school is to a great extent their institution, that they must assist to sustain its character, and that they share the honor if any honor is acquired, a feeling will prevail in the school, which may be turned to a most useful account. (7.) In giving instruction on moral duty, the subject should be taken up generally, in reference to imaginary cases, or cases which are unknown to most of the scholars. If this is done, the pupils feel that the object of bringing up the subject is to do good; whereas, if questions of moral duty are only brought up, from time to time, when some prevailing or accidental fault in school calls for it, the feeling will be that the teacher is only endeavoring to remove from his own path a source of inconvenience and trouble. The most successful mode of giving general moral instruction that I have known, and which has been adopted in many schools, with occasional variations of form, is the following. When the time has arrived a subject is assigned, and small papers are distributed to the whole school, that all may write something concerning it. These are then read and commented on by the teacher, and are made the occasion of any remarks, which he may wish to make. The interest is strongly excited to hear the papers read, and the instruction which the teacher may give, produces a deeper effect, when engrafted thus, upon something which originates in the minds of the pupils. To take a particular case; a teacher addressed his scholars thus. "The subject for the moral exercise to day, is _Prejudice_. Each one may take one of the papers which have been distributed, and you may write upon them any thing you please relating to the subject. As many as have thought of any thing to write, may raise their hands." One or two only of the older scholars gave the signal. "I will mention the kinds of communications you can make, and perhaps what I say will suggest something to you. As fast as you think of any thing, you may raise your hands, and as soon as I see a sufficient number up, I will give directions to begin. You can describe any case in which you have been prejudiced, yourselves, either against persons or things." Here a number of the hands went up. "You can mention any facts relating to antipathies of any kind, or any cases where you know other persons to be prejudiced. You can ask any questions in regard to the subject, questions about the nature of prejudice, or the causes of it, or the remedy for it." As he said this, many hands were successively raised, and at last, directions were given for them to begin to write. Five minutes were allowed, and at the end of that time the papers were collected and read. The following specimens, transcribed verbatim from the originals, with the remarks made, as nearly as they could be remembered immediately after the exercise, will give an idea of the ordinary operation of this plan. "I am very much prejudiced against spiders, and every insect in the known world, with scarcely an exception. There is a horrid sensation created by their ugly forms, that makes me wish them all to Jericho. The butterfly's wings are pretty, but he is dreadful ugly. There is no affectation in this, for my pride will not permit me to show this prejudice to any great degree, when I can help it. I do not fear the little wretches; but I do hate them. Anti-Spider-Sparer." "This is not expressed very well, the phrases, "_to Jericho_" and "_dreadful ugly_," are vulgar, and in very bad taste. Such a dislike too is more commonly called an antipathy, than a prejudice, though perhaps it comes under the general head of prejudices." "How may we overcome prejudice? I think that when we are prejudiced against a person, it is the hardest thing in the world to overcome it." "A prejudice is usually founded on some unpleasant association connected with the subject of it. The best way to overcome the prejudice, therefore, is to connect some pleasant association with it. "For example, (to take the case of the antipathy to the spider, alluded to in the last article,) the reason why that young lady dislikes spiders, is undoubtedly because she has some unpleasant idea associated with the thought of that animal, perhaps for example, the idea of their crawling upon her--which is certainly not a very pleasant one for any body. Now the way to correct such a prejudice, is to try to connect some pleasant thoughts with the sight of the animal. "I once found a spider in an empty apartment, hanging in its web on the wall, with a large ball of eggs which it had suspended by its side. My companion and myself cautiously brought up a tumbler under the web, and pressed it suddenly against the wall, so as to enclose both spider and eggs within it. We then contrived to run in a pair of shears, so as to cut off the web, and let both the animal and its treasure fall down into the tumbler. We put a book over the top, and walked off with our prize, to a table, to see what it would do. "At first it tried to climb up the side of the tumbler, but its feet slipped, from the smooth glass. We then inclined the glass, so as to favor its climbing and to enable it to reach the book at the top. As soon as it touched the book, it was safe. It could cling to the book easily, and we placed the tumbler again upright, to watch its motions. "It attached a thread to the book and let itself down by it to the bottom of the tumbler, and walked round and round the ball of eggs, apparently in great trouble. Presently it ascended by its thread, and then came down again. It attached a new thread to the ball, and then went up, drawing the ball with it. It hung the ball at a proper distance from the book, and bound it firmly in its place by threads running from it, in every direction, to the parts of the book which were near, and then the animal took its place, quietly by its side. "Now I do not say, that if any body had a strong antipathy to a spider, seeing one perform such a work as this would entirely remove it; but it would certainly soften it. It would _tend_ to remove it. It would connect an interesting and pleasant association, with the object. So if she should watch a spider in the fields making his web. You have all seen those beautiful, regular webs, in the morning dew, ("Yes, sir," "Yes sir.") composed of concentric circles, and radii diverging in every direction. ("Yes sir.") Well, watch a spider when making one of these, or observe his artful ingenuity and vigilance, when he is lying in wait for a fly. By thus connecting pleasant ideas, with the sight of the animal, you will destroy the unpleasant association which constitutes the prejudice. In the same manner, if I wished to create an antipathy to a spider, in a child, it would be very easily done. I would tie her hands behind her, and put three or four upon her, to crawl over her face. "Thus you must destroy prejudices in all cases, by connecting pleasant thoughts and associations with the objects of them." "I am very often prejudiced against new scholars, without knowing why?" "We sometimes hear a person talk in this way, 'I do not like such, or such a person, at all.'" "'Why?' "'Oh I don't know, I do not like her at all. I can't bear her.' "'But why not. What is your objection to her.' "'Oh I don't know, I have not any particular reason, but I never did like her.' "Now whenever you hear any person talk so, you may be sure that her opinion, on any subject, is worth nothing at all. She forms opinions in one case, without grounds, and it depends merely upon accident, whether she does not, in other cases." "Why is it that so many of our countrymen are, or seem to be prejudiced against the unfortunate children of Africa? Almost every _large white_ boy, who meets a _small black_ boy, insults him, in some way or other." "It is so hard to _overcome_ prejudices, that we ought to be careful how we _form_ them." "When I see a new scholar enter this school and she does not happen to suit me exactly in her ways and manners, I very often get prejudiced against her, though sometimes I find her a valuable friend, after I get acquainted with her." "There is an inquiry I should like very much to make, though I suppose it would not be quite right to make it. I should like to ask all those who have some particular friend in school, and who can recollect the impression which the individual made upon them when they first saw her, to rise, and then I should like to inquire in how many cases the first impression was favorable, and in how many unfavorable." "Yes sir." "Yes sir." "Do you mean you would like to have the inquiry made?" "Yes sir." "All, then, who have intimate friends, and can recollect the impression which they first made upon them, may rise." [About thirty rose; more than two thirds of whom voted that the first impression made by the persons who had since become their particular friends, was unfavorable.] "This shows how much dependence you can justly place on first impressions." "It was the next Monday morning, after I had attained the wise age of 4 years, that I was called up into my mother's room, and told that I was the next day going to school. "I called forth all my reasoning powers, and with all the ability of a child of four years, I reasoned with my mother, but to no purpose. I told her that I _hated_ the school mistress then; though I had never seen her. The very first day I tottered under the weight of the mighty foolscap. I only attended her school two quarters; with prejudice I went, and with prejudice I came away. "The old school-house is now torn down, and a large brick house takes the place of it. But I never pass by without remembering my teacher. I am prejudiced to [against] the very spot. * * * * * "Is it not right to allow prejudice, to have influence over our minds as far as this? If any thing comes to our knowledge, with which wrong seems to be connected, and one in whom we have always felt confidence is engaged in it, is it not right to allow our prejudice in favor of this individual to have so much influence over us, as to cause us to believe that all is really right, though every circumstance which has come to our knowledge is against such a conclusion? I felt this influence not many weeks since, in a very great degree." "No; it would not be prejudice in such a case. That is, a _prejudice_ would not be a sufficient ground to justify withholding blame. Well grounded confidence in such a person, if there was reason for it, ought to leave such an effect, but not prejudice." * * * * * The above may be considered as a fair specimen of the ordinary operation of such an exercise. It is taken as an illustration, not by selection from the large number of similar exercises which I have witnessed, but simply because it was an exercise occurring at the time when a description was to be written. Besides the articles quoted above, there were thirty or forty others, which were read and commented on. The above will, however, be sufficient to give the reader a clear idea of the exercise, and to show what is the nature of the moral effect it is calculated to produce. The subjects which may be advantageously brought forward in such a way, are of course very numerous. They are such as the following. In connexion with each, give the suggestions as to the kind of articles to be written, which the pupils may receive at the time the subject is assigned. 1. DUTIES TO PARENTS. Anecdotes of good or bad conduct at home. Questions. Cases where it is most difficult to obey. Dialogues between parents and children. Excuses which are often made for disobedience. 2. SELFISHNESS. Cases of selfishness any of the pupils have observed. Dialogues they have heard exhibiting it. Questions about its nature. Indications of selfishness. 3. FAULTS OF THE SCHOOL. Any bad practices the scholars may have observed in regard to general deportment, recitations, habits of study, or the scholars' treatment of one another. Each scholar may write what is his own greatest trouble in school, and whether he thinks any thing can be done to remove it. Any thing they think can be improved in the management of the school by the Teacher. Unfavorable things they have heard said about it, out of school, though without names. 4. EXCELLENCES OF THE SCHOOL. Good practices, which ought to be persevered in. Any little incidents the scholars may have noticed illustrating good character. Cases which have occurred in which scholars have done right, in temptation, or when others around were doing wrong. Favorable reports in regard to the school, in the community around. 5. THE SABBATH. Any thing the scholars may have known to be done on the Sabbath which they doubt whether right or wrong. Questions in regard to the subject. Various opinions they have heard expressed. Difficulties they have in regard to proper ways of spending the Sabbath. (8.) We have one other method to describe, by which a favorable moral influence may be exerted in school. The method can, however, go into full effect, only where there are several pupils who have made considerable advances in mental cultivation. It is to provide a way, by which teachers and pupils may write, anonymously, for the school. This may be done by having a place of deposit for such articles as may be written, where any person may leave what he wishes to have read, nominating, by a memorandum, upon the article itself, the reader. If a proper feeling on the subject of good discipline, and the formation of good character, prevails in school, many articles, which will have a great deal of effect upon the pupils, will find their way through such an avenue, once opened. The teacher can himself often bring forward, in this way, his suggestions, with more effect than he otherwise could do. Such a plan is, in fact like the plan of a newspaper for an ordinary community, where sentiments and opinions stand on their own basis, and influence the community just in proportion to their intrinsic merits, unassisted by the authority of the writer's name, and unimpeded by any prejudice which may exist against him. In my own school, this practice has had a very powerful effect. I have, myself, often thus anonymously addressed my pupils, and I have derived great assistance from communications which many of the pupils have written. Sometimes we have had full discussions of proposed measures, and at others, criticisms of the management of the school, or of prevailing faults. Sometimes good humored satires, and sometimes simple descriptions. 'Tis true the practice is not steadily kept up. Often, for months together, there is not an article offered. Still the place of deposit remains, and, after a time, some striking communication is made, which awakens general attention, and calls out other pens, until the fifteen minutes, corresponding to the afternoon General Exercise, in the plan provided in a preceding chapter, (which is all which is allowed to be devoted to such purposes,) is not sufficient to read what is daily offered. Of course, in such a plan as this, the teacher must have the usual editorial powers, to comment upon what is written, or to alter or suppress it at pleasure.[A] [Footnote A: The following articles, which were really offered for such a purpose, will serve as specimens. One or two were written by teachers. I do not know the authors of the others. I do not offer them as remarkable compositions: every teacher will see that they are not so. The design of inserting them is merely to show that the ordinary literary ability to be found in every school, may be turned to useful account, by simply opening a channel for it, and to furnish such teachers as may be inclined to try the experiment, the means of making the plan clearly understood by their pupils. MARKS OF A BAD SCHOLAR. "At the time when she should be ready to take her seat at school, she commences preparation for leaving home. To the extreme annoyance of those about her, all is now hurry and bustle and ill humor. Thorough search is to be made for every book or paper, for which she has occasion; some are found in one place, some in another, and others are forgotten altogether. Being finally equipped, she casts her eye at the clock, hopes to be in tolerable good season, (notwithstanding that the hour for opening the school has already arrived,) and sets out, in the most violent hurry. After so much haste, she is unfitted for attending properly to the duties of the school, until a considerable time after her arrival. If present at the devotional exercises, she finds it difficult to command her attention, even when desirous of so doing, and her deportment at this hour, is accordingly marked with an unbecoming listlessness and abstraction. When called to recitations, she recollects that some task was assigned, which till that moment, she had forgotten; of others she had mistaken the extent, most commonly thinking them to be shorter than her companions suppose. In her answers to questions with which she should be familiar, she always manifests more or less of hesitation, and what she ventures to express, is very commonly in the form of a question. In these, as in all exercises, there is an inattention to general instructions. Unless what is said be addressed particularly to herself, her eyes are directed towards another part of the room; it may be her thoughts are employed about something not at all connected with the school. If reproved by her teacher, for negligence in any respects, she is generally provided with an abundance of excuses, and however mild the reproof, she receives it as a piece of extreme severity. Throughout her whole deportment, there is an air of indolence, and a want of interest in those exercises which should engage her attention. In her seat, she most commonly sits in some lazy posture;--either with her elbows upon her desk, her head leaning upon her hands, or with her seat tipped forwards or backwards. When she has occasion to leave her seat, it is in a sauntering, lingering gait;--perhaps some trick is contrived on the way, for exciting the mirth of her companions. About every thing in which it is possible to be so, she is untidy. Her books are carelessly used, and placed in her desk without order. If she has a piece of waste paper to dispose of, she finds it much more convenient to tear it into small pieces, and scatter it about her desk, than to put it in a proper place. Her hands and clothes are usually covered with ink. Her written exercises are blotted, and full of mistakes." THE CONSEQUENCES OF BEING BEHINDHAND. "The following incident, which I witnessed on a late journey, illustrates an important principle, and I will relate it. When our steamboat started from the wharf, all our passengers had not come. After we had proceeded a few yards, there appeared among the crowd on the wharf, a man with his trunk under his arm,--out of breath,--and with a most disappointed and disconsolate air. The Captain determined to stop for him, but stopping an immense steamboat, moving swiftly through the water, is not to be done in a moment. So we took a grand sweep, wheeling majestically around an English ship, which was at anchor in the harbor. As we came towards the wharf again, we saw the man in a small boat, coming off from it. As the steamboat swept round, they barely succeeded in catching a rope from the stern, and then immediately the steam engine began its work again, and we pressed forward,--the little boat following us so swiftly, that the water around her was all in a foam. They pulled upon the rope attached to the little boat, until they drew it alongside. They then let down a rope with a hook in the end of it, from an iron crane, which projected over the side of the steamboat, and hooked it into a staple in the front of the small boat. "_Hoist away_;" said the Captain. The sailors hoisted, and the front part of the little boat began to rise, the stern still ploughing and foaming through the water, and the man still in it, with his trunk under his arm. They "hoisted away," until I began to think that the poor man would actually tumble out behind. He clung to the seat, and looked as though he was saying to himself, "I will take care how I am tardy the next time." However, after awhile, they hoisted up the stern of the boat, and he got safely on board. _Moral._ Though coming to school a few minutes earlier or later, may not in itself be a matter of much consequence, yet the habit of being five minutes too late, if once formed, will, in actual life, be a source of great inconvenience, and sometimes of lasting injury." NEW SCHOLARS. "There is, at----, a young ladies' school, taught by Mr.----. * * * * * * * * * But with all these excellences, there is one fault, which I considered a great one, and which does not comport with the general character of the school for kindness and good feeling. It is the little effort made by the scholars to become acquainted with the new ones who enter. Whoever goes there, must push herself forward, or she will never feel at home. The young ladies seem to forget, that the new comer must feel rather unpleasantly, in the midst of a hundred persons, to whom she is wholly a stranger, and with no one to speak to. Two or three will stand together, and instead of deciding upon some plan, by which the individual may be made to feel at ease, something like the following conversation takes place. _Miss X._ How do you like the looks of Miss A., who entered school to-day? _Miss Y._ I don't think she is very pretty, but she looks as if she might be a good scholar. _Miss X._ She does not strike me very pleasantly; did you ever see such a face? And her complexion is so dark, I should think she had always lived in the open air; and what a queer voice she has! _Miss Y._ I wonder if she has a taste for Arithmetic? _Miss X._ She does not look as if she had much taste for any thing; see, how strangely she fixes her hair. _Miss S._ Whether she has much taste or not, some one of us ought to go and get acquainted with her. See how unpleasantly she feels. _Miss X._ I don't want to get acquainted with her, until I know whether I shall like her or not. Thus nothing is done to relieve her. When she does become acquainted, all her first strange appearance is forgotten; but this is sometimes not the case for several weeks. It depends entirely on the character of the individual herself. If she is forward, and willing to make the necessary effort, she can find many friends; but if she is diffident, she has much to suffer. This arises principally from thoughtlessness. The young ladies do not seem to realize that there is any thing for them to do. They feel enough at home themselves, and the remembrance of the time when they entered school, does not seem to arise in their minds." 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 or foe.' The friends resumed 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 equalled. 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 cannot 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 riband,' &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 Magical Ring,' 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 marvellous narration of adventures made in a pair of shoes, more valuable than the farfamed '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, it will not be difficult for any teacher to obtain, so far an ascendancy 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 favourable 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 cannot. 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. (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 he 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 will openly disobey your commands and oppose your wishes; on another, 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 there, a third, who will stand sullen and silent before you, when he has done wrong, and is neither to be touched by kindness, nor awed by authority. 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 towards 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 a 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 cannot 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 skilful 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 ever heard of such a thing? 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 wilful 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 cut the tops of quills, 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 pleasanter 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 cannot 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 meantime, he took a little 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 get from him some little assistance, and thus to gain some personal ascendancy over him. One day, when every thing had gone smoothly and pleasantly, the teacher told the boy, at the close of school, that he wanted 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 pleasanter for you to have me see you privately, than to bring it up in school." James said it would be pleasanter. "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 he had not been noticed. He thought, perhaps 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 towards 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 offence 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 want 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 that, 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 for ever 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, and with a very large school, I have found this sufficient, in every case of discipline which has occurred, except in three or four instances, where something more was required. To make it successful, however, it 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 school-room, 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 cannot 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. RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE. In consequence of the unexampled religious liberty enjoyed in this country, for which it is happily distinguished above all other countries on the globe, there necessarily results a vast variety of religious sentiment and action. We cannot enjoy the blessings without the inconveniences of freedom. Where every man is allowed to believe as he pleases, some will undoubtedly believe wrong, and others will be divided, by embracing views of a subject which are different, though perhaps equally consistent with truth. Hence, we have among us, every shade and every variety of religious opinion, and in many cases, contention and strife, resulting from hopeless efforts to produce uniformity. A stranger who should come among us, would suppose from the tone of our religious journals, and from the general aspect of society on the subject of religion, that the whole community was divided into a thousand contending sects, who hold nothing in common, and whose sole objects are, the annoyance and destruction of each other. But if we leave out of view some hundreds, or if you please, some thousands of theological controversialists, who manage the public discussions, and say and do all that really comes before the public on this subject, it will be found, that there is vastly more religious truth admitted by common consent, among the people of New England, than is generally supposed. This common ground, I shall endeavor briefly to describe. For it is very plain, that the teacher must, in ordinary cases, confine himself to it. By common consent, however, I do not mean the consent of every body; I mean that of the great majority of serious, thinking men. But let us examine, first, for a moment, what right any member of the community has to express and to disseminate his opinions, with a view to the inquiry, whether the teacher is really bound to confine himself to what he can do, on this subject, with the common consent of his employers. The French nation has been, for some time, as is well known, strongly agitated with questions of politics. It is with difficulty that public tranquillity is preserved. Every man takes sides. Now in this state of things, a wealthy gentleman, opposed to the revolutionary projects so constantly growing up there, and from principle and feeling, strongly attached to a monarchial government, wishes to bring up his children, with the same feelings which he himself cherishes. He has a right to do so. No matter if his opinions are wrong. He ought, it will be generally supposed in this country, to be republican. I suppose him to adopt opinions, which will generally, by my readers, be considered wrong, that I may bring more distinctly to view the right he has to educate his children as _he thinks_ it proper that they should be educated. He may be wrong to _form_ such opinions. But the opinions once formed, he has a right, with which no human power can justly interfere, to educate his children in conformity with those opinions. It is alike the law of God and nature, that the father should control, as he alone is responsible, the education of his child. Now under these circumstances, he employs an American mechanic, who is residing in Paris, to come to his house and teach his children the use of the lathe. After some time, he comes into their little workshop, and is astonished to find the lathe standing still, and the boys gathered round the republican turner, who is telling them stories of the tyranny of kings, the happiness of republicans, and the glory of war. The parent remonstrates. The mechanic defends himself. "I am a republican," he says, "upon principle, and wherever I go, I must exert all the influence in my power, to promote free principles, and to expose the usurpations and the tyranny of kings." To this the Frenchman might very properly reply, "In your efforts to promote your principles, you are limited, or you ought to be limited to modes that are proper and honorable. I employ you for a distinct and specific purpose, which has nothing to do with questions of government; and you ought not to allow your love of republican principles, to lead you to take advantage of the position in which I place you, and interfere with my plans for the political education of my children." Now for the parallel case. A member of a Congregational Society, is employed to teach a school, in a district, occupied exclusively by Quakers,--a case not uncommon. He is employed there, not as a religious teacher, but for another specific and well-defined object. It is for the purpose of teaching the children of that district, _reading_, _writing_, and _calculation_, and for such other purposes, analogous to this, as the law, providing for the establishment of district schools, contemplated. Now when he is placed in such a situation, with such a trust confided to him, and such duties to discharge, it is not right for him, to make use of the influence, which this official station gives him, over the minds of the children committed to his care, for the accomplishment of _any other purposes whatever_, which the parents would disapprove. It would not be considered right, by men of the world, to attempt to accomplish any other purposes, in such a case; and are the pure and holy principles of piety, to be extended by methods more exceptionable, than those by which political and party contests are managed? There is a very great and obvious distinction between the general influence which the teacher exerts as a member of the community, and that which he can employ in his school room as teacher. He has unquestionably a right to exert _upon the community, by such means as he shares in common with every other citizen_, as much influence as he can command, for the dissemination of his own political, or religious, or scientific opinions. But the strong ascendency, which, in consequence of his official station, he has obtained over the minds of his pupils, is sacred. He has no right to use it for any purpose _foreign to the specific objects_ for which he is employed, unless by _the consent, expressed or implied_, of those by whom he is entrusted with his charge. The parents who send their children to him, to be taught to read, to write and to calculate, may have erroneous views of their duty, as parents, in other respects. He _may know_ that their views are erroneous. They may be taking a course, which the teacher _knows_ is wrong. But he has not, on this account, a right to step in between the parent and the child, to guide the latter according to his own opinions, and to violate the wishes and thwart the plans of the former. God has constituted the relation between the parent and the child, and according to any view, which a rational man can take of this relation, the parent is alone responsible for the guidance he gives to that mind, so entirely in his power. He is responsible to God; and where our opinions, in regard to the manner in which any of the duties, arising from the relation, are to be performed, differ from his, we have no right to interfere, without his consent, to rectify what we thus imagine to be wrong. I know of but one exception, which any man whatever would be inclined to make, to this principle; and that is, where the parent would, if left to himself, take such a course, as would ultimately make his children _unsafe members of society_. The _community_ have a right to interfere, in such a case, as they in fact do by requiring every man to provide for the instruction of his children, and in some other ways which need not now be specified. Beyond this, however, no interference contrary to the parent's consent, is justifiable. Where parents will do wrong, notwithstanding any persuasions which we can address to them, we must not violate the principles of an arrangement, which God has himself made, but submit patiently to the awful consequences, which will, in some cases, occur,--reflecting that the responsibility for these consequences, is on the head of those who neglect their duty, and that the being who makes them liable, will settle the account. Whatever, then, the teacher attempts to do, beyond the _specific_ and _defined_ duties, which are included among the objects for which he is employed, must be done _by permission_,--by the voluntary consent, whether tacit, or openly expressed, of those by whom he is employed. This of course confines him to what is, generally, common ground, among his particular employers. In a republican country, where all his patrons are republican, he may without impropriety, explain and commend to his pupils, as occasion may occur, the principles of free governments, and the blessings which may be expected to flow from them. But it would not be justifiable for him to do this, under a monarchy, or in a community divided in regard to this subject, because this question does not come within the objects, for the promotion of which, his patrons have associated, and employed him,--and consequently, he has no right, while continuing their teacher, to go into it, without their consent. In the same manner, an Episcopal teacher, in a private school, formed and supported by Episcopalians, may use and commend forms of prayer, and explain the various usages of that church, exhibiting their excellence, and their adaptation to the purposes for which they are intended. He may properly do this, because in the case supposed, the patrons of the school are _united_ on this subject, and their _tacit consent_ may be supposed to be given. But place the same teacher over a school of Quaker children, whose parents dislike forms and ceremonies of every kind, in religion, and his duty would be changed altogether. So, if a Roman Catholic is entrusted with the instruction of a common district school, in a community composed of many Protestant denominations, it would be plainly his duty to avoid all influence, direct or indirect, over the minds of his pupils, except in those religious sentiments and opinions which are common to himself and all his employers. I repeat the principle. _He is employed for a specific purpose, and he has no right to wander from that purpose, except as far as he can go, with the common consent of his employers._ Now, the common ground, on religious subjects, in this country, is very broad. There are indeed, many principles, which are, in my view, essential parts of Christianity, which are subjects of active discussion among us. But setting these aside, there are other principles equally essential, in regard to which the whole community are agreed; or at least, if there is a dissenting minority, it is so small, that it is hardly to be considered. Let us look at some of these principles. 1. Our community is agreed that _there is a God_. There is probably not a school in our country, where the parents of the scholars would not wish to have the teacher, in his conversation with his pupils, take this for granted, and allude reverently and judiciously to that great Being, with the design of leading them to realize his existence, and to feel his authority. 2. Our community are agreed, that _we are responsible to God for all our conduct_. Though some persons absurdly pretend to believe, that the Being who formed this world, if indeed they think there is any such Being, has left it and its inhabitants to themselves, not inspecting their conduct, and never intending to call them to account, they are too few among us to need consideration. A difference of opinion on this subject, might embarrass the teacher in France, and in other countries in Europe, but not here. However negligent men may be in _obeying_ God's commands, they do almost universally in our country, admit in theory, the authority from which they come; and believing this, the parent, even if he is aware that he himself does not obey these commands, chooses to have his children taught to respect them. The teacher will thus be acting with the consent of his employers, in almost any part of our country, in endeavoring to influence his pupils to perform moral duties, not merely from worldly motives, nor from mere abstract principles of right and wrong, but _from regard to the authority of God_. 3. The community are agreed, too, in the belief of _the immortality of the soul_. They believe, almost without exception, that there is a future state of being, to which this is introductory and preparatory, and almost every father and mother in our country, wish to have their children keep this in mind, and to be influenced by it, in all their conduct. 4. The community are agreed, that _we have a revelation from heaven_. I believe there are very few instances where the parents would not be glad to have the Bible read from time to time, its geographical and historical meanings illustrated, and its moral lessons brought to bear upon the hearts and lives of their children. Of course, if the teacher is so unwise as to make such a privilege, if it were allowed him, the occasion of exerting an influence, upon one side or the other of some question which divides the community around him, he must expect to excite jealousy and distrust, and to be excluded from a privilege, which he might otherwise have been permitted freely to enjoy. There may, alas! be some cases, where the use of the Scriptures is altogether forbidden in school. But probably in almost every such case, it would be found, that it is from fear of its perversion to sect or party purposes, and not from any unwillingness to have the Bible used in the way I have described. 5. The community are agreed in theory, that _personal attachment to the Supreme Being, is the duty of every human soul_; and every parent, with exceptions so few that they are not worth naming, wishes that his children should cherish that affection, and yield their hearts to its influence. He is willing therefore that the teacher, of course without interfering with the regular duties for the performance of which he holds his office, should, from time to time, so speak of this duty,--of God's goodness to men,--of his daily protection,--and his promised favors, as to awaken, if possible, this attachment, in the hearts of his children. Of course, it is very easy for the teacher, if he is so disposed, to abuse this privilege also. He can, under pretence of awakening and cherishing the spirit of piety in the hearts of his pupils, present the subject in such aspects and relations, as to arouse the sectarian or denominational feelings of some of his employers. But I believe if this was honestly and fully avoided, there are few, if any, parents, in our country, who would not be gratified to have the great principle of love to God, manifest itself in the instructions of the school-room, and showing itself, by its genuine indications in the hearts and conduct of their children. 6. The community are agreed, not only in believing that piety consists primarily, in love to God, but that _the life of piety is to be commenced by penitence for past sins, and forgiveness, in some way or other, through a Saviour_. I am aware that one class of theological writers, in the heat of controversy, charge the other with believing that Jesus Christ was nothing more nor less than a teacher of religion, and there are unquestionably, individuals, who take this view. But these individuals are few. There are very few in our community, who do not in some sense, look upon Jesus Christ as our _Saviour_,--our Redeemer; who do not feel themselves _in some way_, indebted to him, for the offer of pardon. There may be, here and there, a theological student, or a contributor to the columns of a polemical magazine, who ranks Jesus Christ with Moses and with Paul. But the great mass of the fathers and mothers, of every name and denomination through all the ranks of society, look up to the Saviour of sinners, with something at least of the feeling, that he is the object of extraordinary affection and reverence. I am aware however, that I am approaching the limit, which, in many parts of our country, ought to bound the religious influence of the teacher in a public school; and on this subject, as on every other, he ought to do nothing directly or indirectly, which would be displeasing to those who have entrusted children to his care. So much ground, it seems, the teacher may occupy, by common consent, in New-England, 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, towards leading his pupils to fear God, and to obey his commands, with the cordial consent of parents, as he can here.[B] [Footnote B: In speaking of this common ground, and in commenting upon it, I wish not to be understood that I consider these truths as comprising all that is essential in Christianity. Very far from it. A full expression of the Christian faith, would go far in advance of all here presented. We must not confound however, what is essential to prepare the way for the forgiveness of sin, with what is essential that a child should understand, in order to secure his penitence and forgiveness. The former is a great deal; the latter, very little.] 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 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 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 and pleasantly accomplish. 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 cannot 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. He 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 four years' experience, I would recommend at this exercise, is sitting, with the heads reclined upon the desks. The prayer, besides being short, should be simple in its language, and specific in its petitions. A degree of particularity and familiarity, which might 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 has 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 cannot 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,--i. e. such feelings as penitence for sin, trust in God, and love for the Saviour,--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 mind such occurrences as may come under your own personal observation, when travelling, 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': And indeed all his are arranged in the order of their length." "Yes sir." "What comes next?" "John's." "Yes, and they arranged in the order of their length. Do you now understand the principles of the arrangement of the epistles?" "Yes sir." "I should like to have any of you who are interested in it, 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 travelling 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 a 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 visiters 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 towards 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's 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 seem to care much about it. She was evidently happy then, and believed she should continue so. She had been penitent for her sins, and 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._ 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 connexion 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 connexion in the sentences in which they hear them; and by long practice, they acquire an astonishing facility of doing this. 'Tis 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 connexion does not do it for them. So that instead of _coming down_ to the language of childhood, he ought rather to go as far away from it, as he possibly can, without leaving his pupils behind him. (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 dulness 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, &c." 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 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 want you to go to your seat and transcribe for me 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 25 cents.' 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 as well as not?' "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, we shall remember 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 want you to set down and see if you cannot do it better than any of them. No one of them knows that any other is writing, except you, but after the others are all 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 despatched 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. "I was talking to you yesterday about the motives of action; how many had I made?" Some say, "Four," some "Five," some "Six." "Can you name any of them?" The boys attempt to recollect them, and they give the names in the order in which they accidentally occur to the various individuals. Of course, the words Fear, Emulation, Honor, Friendship, and others, come in confused and irregular sounds, from every part of the school-room. "You do not recollect the order," says the teacher, "and it is of no consequence, for the order I named was only accidental. Now to go on with my account; suppose all these boys to sit down, and go to writing, each one acting under the impulse of the motive which had been presented to him individually. But in order to make the supposition answer my purpose, I must add two other cases. I will imagine that one of these boys is called away, a few minutes, and leaves his paper on his desk, and that another boy, of an ill-natured and morose disposition, happening to pass by and see his paper, thinks he will sit down and write upon it a few lines, just to plague and vex the one who was called away. We will also suppose that I call another boy to me, who, I have reason to believe, is a sincere Christian, and say to him, 'Here is a new duty for you to perform this afternoon. This piece of poetry is to be copied; now do it carefully and faithfully. You know that this morning you committed yourself to God's care during the day; now remember he has been watching you all the time, thus far, and he will be noticing you all the time you are doing this; he will be pleased if you do your duty faithfully.' "The boys thus all go to writing. Now suppose a stranger should come in, and seeing them all busy, should say to me, "'What are all these boys doing?' "'They are writing.' "'What are they writing?' "'They are writing a piece of poetry.' "'They seem to be very busy; they are very industrious, good boys.' "'Oh no! it is not by any means certain that they are _good_ boys.' "'I mean that they are good boys _now_; that they are doing right at _this time_.' "'_That_ is not certain; some of them are doing right and some are doing very wrong; though they are all writing the same piece of poetry.' "The stranger would perhaps look surprised while I said this, and would ask an explanation, and I might properly reply as follows. "'Whether the boys are, at this moment, doing right, or wrong, depends not so much upon what they are doing, as upon the feelings of the heart with which they are doing it. I acknowledge that they are all doing the same thing outwardly,--they are all writing the same extract, and they are all doing it attentively and carefully, but they are thinking of very different things.' "'What are they thinking of?' "Do you see that boy?' I might say, pointing to one of them. His name is M.' He is writing for money. He is saying to himself all the time, 'I hope I shall get the quarter of a dollar.' He is calculating what he shall buy with it, and every good or bad letter that he makes, he is considering the chance whether he shall succeed or fail in obtaining it.' "'What is the next boy to him thinking of?' "'His name is B. He is copying to oblige a little fellow, whom he scarcely knows, and is trying to make his copy handsome so as to give him pleasure. He is thinking how gratified his schoolmate will be when he receives it, and is forming plans to get acquainted with him.' "Do you see that boy in the back seat. He has maliciously taken another boy's place just to spoil his work. He knows too that he is breaking the rules of the school, in being out of his place, but he stays, notwithstanding, and is delighting himself with thinking how disappointed and sad his schoolmate will be, when he comes in and finds his work spoiled, because he was depending on doing it all himself.' "'I see,' the stranger might say by this time, 'that there is a great difference among these boys; have you told me about them all?' "'No,' I might reply, 'there are several others. I will only mention one more. He sits in the middle of the second desk. He is writing carefully, simply because he wishes to do his duty and please God. He thinks that God is present, and loves him, and takes care of him, and he is obedient and grateful in return. I do not mean that he is all the time thinking of God, but love to him is his motive of effort.' "Do you see now, boys, what I mean to teach you by this long supposition?" "Yes sir." "I presume you do. Perhaps it would be difficult for you to express it in words, I can express it in general terms, thus, "_Our characters depend not on what we do, but on the spirit and motive with which we do it._ What I have been saying throws light upon one important verse in the Bible, which I should like to have read. James have you a Bible in your desk?" "Yes sir." "Will you turn to 1 Samuel xvi: 7. and then rise and read it. Read it loud, so that all the school can hear." James reads as follows. "MAN LOOKETH ON THE OUTWARD APPEARANCE, BUT GOD LOOKETH ON THE HEART." This is the way to reach the intellect and the heart of the young. Go _into detail_. Explain truth and duty, not in an abstract form, but exhibit it, _in actual and living examples_. (3.) Be very cautious how you bring in the awful sanctions of religion, to assist you directly, in the discipline of your school. You will derive a most powerful indirect assistance, from the influence of religion in the little community which you govern. But this will be, through the prevalence of its spirit in the hearts of your pupils, and not from any assistance which you can usually derive from it in managing particular cases of transgression. Many teachers make great mistakes in this respect. A bad boy, who has done something openly and directly subversive of the good order of the school, or the rights of his companions, is called before the master, who thinks that the most powerful weapon to wield against him is the Bible. So while the trembling culprit stands before him, he administers to him a reproof, which consists of an almost ludicrous mixture of scolding, entreaty, religious instruction, and threatening of punishment. But such an occasion as this is no time to touch a bad boy's heart. He is steeled, at such a moment, against any thing but mortification, and the desire to get out of the hands of the master; and he has an impression, that the teacher appeals to religious principles, only to assist him to sustain his own authority. Of course, religious truth, at such a time, can make no good impression. There may be exceptions to this rule. There doubtless are. I have found some; and every successful teacher who reads this, will probably call some to mind, some which have occurred in the course of his own experience. I am only speaking of what ought to be the general rule, which is, to reserve religious truths for moments of a different character altogether. Bring the principles of the Bible forward when the mind is calm, when the emotions are quieted, and all within is at rest; and in exhibiting them, be actuated not by a desire to make your duties of government easier, but to promote the real and permanent happiness of your charge. (4.) Do not be eager to draw from your pupils, an expression of their personal interest in religious truth. Lay before them, and enforce, by all the means in your power, the principles of christian duty, but do not converse with them for the purpose of gratifying your curiosity in regard to their piety, or your spiritual pride by counting up the numbers of those who have been led to piety by your influence. Beginning to act from christian principles is the beginning of a new life, and it may be an interesting subject of inquiry to you, to ascertain how many of your pupils have experienced the change. But, in many cases, it would merely gratify curiosity to know. There is no question too, that in very many instances, the faint glimmering of religious interest, which would have kindled into a bright flame, is extinguished at once and perhaps for ever, by the rough inquiries of a religious friend. Besides if you make inquiries, and form a definite opinion of your pupils, they will know that this is your practice, and many a one will repose in the belief that you consider him or her a Christian, and you will thus increase the number, already unfortunately too large, of those, who maintain the form and pretences of piety, without its power; whose hearts are filled with self-sufficiency and spiritual pride, and perhaps zeal for the truths and external duties of religion, while the real spirit of piety has no place there. They trust to some imaginary change, long since passed by, and which has proved to be spurious by its failing of its fruits. The best way, in fact the only way, to guard against this danger, especially with the young, is to show, by your manner of speaking and acting on this subject, at all times, that you regard a truly religious life, as the only evidence of piety;--and that consequently, however much interest your pupils may apparently take in religious instruction, they cannot know, and you cannot know, whether Christian principle reigns within them, in any other way than by following them through life and observing how, and with what spirit, the various duties of it are performed. There are very many fallacious indications of piety; so fallacious and so plausible, that there are very few, even among intelligent Christians, who are not often greatly deceived. "By their fruits ye shall know them," said the Saviour, a direction sufficiently plain, one would think, and pointing to a test, sufficiently easy to be applied. But it is slow and tedious work to wait for fruits; and we accordingly seek a criterion, which will help us quicker to a result. You see your pupil serious and thoughtful. It is well: but it is not proof of piety. You see him deeply interested when you speak of his obligations to his Maker, and the duties he owes to him. This is well; but it is no proof of piety. You know he reads his Bible daily and offers his morning and evening prayers. When you speak to him of God's goodness, and of his past ingratitude, his bosom heaves with emotion, and the tear stands in his eye. It is all well. You may hope that he is going to devote his life to the service of God. But you cannot know; you cannot even believe, with any great confidence. These appearances are not piety. They are not conclusive evidences of it. They are only, in the young, faint grounds of hope, that the genuine fruits of piety will appear. I am aware that there are many persons, so habituated to judging with confidence of the piety of others, from some such indications as I have described, that they will think I carry my cautions to the extreme. Perhaps I do; but the Saviour said, "By their fruits ye shall know them," and it is safest to follow his direction. By the word fruits, however, our Saviour unquestionably does not mean, the mere moral virtues of this life. The fruits to be looked at, are the fruits of _piety_, that is, indications of permanent attachment to the Creator, and a desire to obey his commands. We must look for these. There is no objection to your giving particular individuals special instruction, adapted to their wants and circumstances. You may do this, by writing, or in other ways, but do not lead them to make up their minds fully that they are Christians, in such a sense as to induce them to feel that the work is done. Let them understand that becoming a Christian is _beginning_ a work, not _finishing_ it. Be cautious how you form an opinion even yourself on the question of the genuineness of their piety. Be content not to know. You will be more faithful and watchful if you consider it uncertain, and they will be more faithful and watchful too. (5.) Bring, very fully and frequently, before your pupils the practical duties of religion in all their details, especially their duties at home; to their parents and to their brothers and sisters. Do not, however, allow them to mistake morality for religion. Show them clearly what piety is, in its essence, and this you can do most successfully by exhibiting its effects. (6.) Finally let me insert as the keystone of all that I have been saying in this chapter, be sincere, and ardent, and consistent, in your own piety. The whole structure which I have been attempting to build, will tumble into ruins without this. Be constantly watchful and careful, not only to maintain intimate communion with God, and to renew it daily in your seasons of retirement, but guard your conduct. Let piety control and regulate it. Show your pupils that it makes you amiable, patient, forbearing, benevolent in little things, as well as in great things, and your example will co-operate with your instructions, and allure your pupils to walk in the paths which you tread. But no clearness and faithfulness in religious teaching will atone for the injury which a bad example will effect. Conduct speaks louder than words, and no persons are more shrewd than the young, to discover the hollowness of empty professions, and the heartlessness of mere pretended interest in their good. * * * * * I am aware that this book may fall into the hands of some, who may take little interest in the subject of this chapter. To such I may perhaps owe an apology, for having thus fully discussed a topic, in which only a part of my readers can be supposed to be interested. My apology is this. It is obvious and unquestionable that we all owe allegiance to the Supreme. It is so obvious and unquestionable, as to be entirely beyond the necessity of proof, for it is plain that nothing but such a bond of union, can keep the peace, among the millions of distinct intelligences with which the creation is filled. It is therefore the plain duty of every man, to establish that connexion between himself and his Maker, which the Bible requires, and to do what he can to bring others to the peace and happiness of piety. These truths are so plain that they admit of no discussion and no denial, and it seems to me highly unsafe, for any man to neglect or to postpone the performance of the duty which arises from them. A still greater hazard is incurred, when such a man having forty or fifty fellow beings almost entirely under his influence, leads them, by his example, away from their Maker, and so far, that he must in many cases hopelessly confirm the separation. With these views I could not, when writing on the duties of a teacher of the young, refrain from bringing distinctly to view, this, which has so imperious a claim. CHAPTER VI. THE MT. VERNON SCHOOL. There is perhaps no way, by which teachers can, in a given time, do more to acquire a knowledge of their art, and an interest in it, than by visiting each others schools. It is not always the case, that any thing is observed by the visiter, which he can directly and wholly introduce into his own school; but what he sees, suggests to him modifications or changes, and it gives him, at any rate, renewed strength and resolution in his work, to see how similar objects are accomplished, or similar difficulties removed, by others. I have often thought, that there ought on this account, to be far greater freedom and frequency in the interchange of visits, than there is. Next, however, to a visit to a school, comes the reading of a vivid description of it. I do not mean a cold, theoretical exposition of the general principles of its management and instruction, for these are essentially the same, in all good schools. I mean a minute account of the plans and arrangements by which these general principles are applied. Suppose twenty, of the most successful teachers in New England would write such a description, each of his own school, how valuable would be the volume which should contain them! With these views, I have concluded to devote one chapter to a description of the school which has been for four years under my care. The account was originally prepared and _printed_, but not published, for the purpose of distribution among the scholars, simply because this seemed to be the easiest and surest method of making them, on their admission to the school, acquainted with its arrangements and plans. It is addressed, therefore, throughout, to a pupil, and I preserve its original form, as, by its being addressed to pupils, and intended to influence them, it is an example of the mode of address, and the kind of influence recommended in this work. It was chiefly designed for new scholars; a copy of it was presented to each, on the day of her admission to the school, and it was made her first duty to read it attentively. The system which it describes is one, which gradually grew up in the institution under the writer's care. The school was commenced with a small number of pupils, and without any system or plan whatever, and the one here described, was formed insensibly and by slow degrees, through the influence of various and accidental circumstances. I have no idea that it is superior to the plans of government and instruction adopted in many other schools. It is true that there must necessarily be _some_ system in every large school; but various instructers will fall upon different principles of organization, which will naturally be such as are adapted to the habits of thought and manner of instruction of their respective authors, and consequently each will be best for its own place. While, therefore, some system,--some methodical arrangement, is necessary in all schools, it is not necessary that it should be the same in all. It is not even desirable that it should be. I consider this plan, as only one among a multitude of others, each of which will be successful, not by the power of its intrinsic qualities, but just in proportion to the ability and faithfulness with which it is carried into effect. There may be features of this plan, which teachers who may read it, may be inclined to adopt. In other cases suggestions may occur to the mind of the reader, which may modify in some degree his present plans. Others may merely be interested in seeing how others effect, what they, by easy methods, are equally successful in effecting. It is in these, and similar ways, that I have often myself been highly benefited in visiting schools, and in reading descriptions of them; and it is for such purposes, that I insert the account here. TO A NEW SCHOLAR, ON HER ADMISSION TO THE MT. VERNON SCHOOL. As a large school is necessarily somewhat complicated in its plan, and as new scholars usually find that it requires some time, and gives them no little trouble, to understand the arrangements they find in operation here, I have concluded to write a brief description of these arrangements, by help of which, you will, I hope, the sooner feel at home in your new place of duty. That I may be more distinct and specific, I shall class what I have to say, under separate heads. I. YOUR PERSONAL DUTY. Your first anxiety as you come into the school-room, and take your seat among the busy multitude, if you are conscientiously desirous of doing your duty, will be, lest, ignorant as you are of the whole plan and of all the regulations of the institution, you should inadvertently do what will be considered wrong. I wish first then to put you at rest on this score. There is but one rule of this school. That you can easily keep. You will observe on one side of my desk a clock upon the wall, and upon the other a piece of apparatus that is probably new to you. It is a metallic plate upon which are marked in gilded letters, the words "_Study Hours_." This is upright, but it is so attached by its lower edge to its support, by means of a hinge, that it can fall over from above, and thus be in a _horizontal_ position; or it will rest in an _inclined_ position,--_half down_, as it is called. It is drawn up and let down by a cord passing over a pulley. When it passes either way, its upper part touches a bell, which gives all in the room notice of its motion. Now when this "_Study Card_"[C] as the scholars call it, is _up_ so that the words "STUDY HOURS" are presented to the view of the school, it is the signal for silence and study. THERE IS THEN TO BE NO COMMUNICATION AND NO LEAVING OF SEATS EXCEPT AT THE DIRECTION OF TEACHERS. [Footnote C: This apparatus has been previously described. See p. 40.] When it is _half down_, each scholar may leave her seat and whisper, but she must do nothing which will disturb others. When it is _down_, all the duties of school are suspended and scholars are left entirely to their liberty. As this is the only rule of the school, it deserves a little more full explanation; for not only your progress in study, but your influence in promoting the welfare of the school, and consequently your peace and happiness while you are a member of it, will depend upon the strictness with which you observe it. Whenever, then, the study card goes up, and you hear the sound of its little bell, immediately and instantaneously stop, whatever you are saying. If you are away from your seat go directly to it, and there remain, and forget in your own silent and solitary studies, so far as you can, all that are around you. You will remember that all _communication_ is forbidden. Whispering, making signs, writing upon paper or a slate, bowing to any one,--and in fact, _every_ possible way, by which one person may have any sort of mental intercourse with another, is wrong. A large number of the scholars take a pride and pleasure in carrying this rule into as perfect an observance as possible. They say, that as this is the only rule with which I trouble them, they ought certainly to observe this faithfully. I myself however put it upon other ground. I am satisfied, that it is better and pleasanter for you to observe it most rigidly, if it is attempted to be enforced at all. You will ask, "Cannot we obtain permission of you or of the teachers to leave our seats or to whisper, if it is necessary?" The answer is, "No." You must never ask permission of me or of the teachers. You can leave seats or speak at the _direction_ of the teachers, i. e. when they of their own accord, ask you to do it, but you are never to ask their permission. If you should, and if any teachers should give you permission, it would be of no avail. I have never given them authority to grant any permissions of the kind. You will then say, are we never on any occasion whatever to leave our seats in study hours? Yes you are. There are two ways. 1. _At the direction of teachers._ Going to and from recitations, is considered as at the _direction_ of teachers. So if a person is requested by a teacher to transact any business, or is elected to a public office, or appointed upon a committee,--leaving seats or speaking, so far as is really necessary for the accomplishing such a purpose, is considered as at the direction of teachers, and is consequently right. In the same manner, if a teacher should ask you individually, or give general notice to the members of class to come to her seat for private instruction, or to go to any part of the school-room for her, it would be right to do it. The distinction, you observe, is this. The teacher may _of her own accord_, direct any leaving of seats which she may think necessary to accomplish the objects of the school. She must not however, _at the request of an individual_ for the sake of her mere private convenience, give her permission to speak or to leave her seat. If for example a teacher should say to you in your class, "As soon as you have performed a certain work you may bring it to me,"--you would in bringing it, be acting under her _direction_ and would consequently do right. If however you should want a pencil and should ask her to give you leave to borrow it, even if she should give you leave, you would do wrong to go, for you would not be acting at her _direction_, but simply by her _consent_, and she has no authority to grant consent. 2. The second case in which you may leave your seat is when some very uncommon occurrence takes place which is sufficient reason for suspending all rules. If your neighbor is faint, you may speak to her and if necessary lead her out. If your mother or some other friend should come into the school-room you can go and sit with her upon the sofa, and talk about the school. And so in many other similar cases. Be very careful not to abuse this privilege, and make slight causes the grounds of your exceptions. It ought to be a very clear case. If a young lady is unwell in a trifling degree, so as to need no assistance, you would evidently do wrong to talk to her. The rule, in fact, is very similar to that which all well bred people observe at church. They never speak or leave their seats unless some really important cause, such as sickness, requires them to break over all rules and go out. You have in the same manner, in really important cases, such as serious sickness in your own case or in that of your companions, or the coming in of a stranger, or any thing else equally extraordinary, power to lay aside any rule and to act as the emergency may require. In using this discretion however, be sure to be on the safe side; in such cases never ask permission. You must act on your own responsibility. _Reasons for this rule._ When the school was first established, there was no absolute prohibition of whispering. Each scholar was allowed to whisper in relation to her studies. They were often, very often, enjoined to be conscientious and faithful, but as might have been anticipated, the experiment failed. It was almost universally the practice to whisper more or less about subjects entirely foreign to the business of the school. This they all repeatedly acknowledged; and the scholars almost unanimously admitted, that the good of the school required the prohibition of all communication during certain hours. I gave them their choice, either always to ask permission when they wished to speak, or to have a certain time allowed for the purpose, during which free inter-communication might be allowed to all the school;--with the understanding, however, that out of this time, no permission should ever be asked or granted. They very wisely chose the latter plan, and the study card was constructed and put up to mark the times of free communication, and of silent study. The card was at first down every half hour for one or two minutes. The scholars afterwards thinking, that their intellectual habits would be improved and the welfare of the school promoted, by their having a longer time for uninterrupted study, of their own accord, without any influence from me, proposed that the card should be down only once an hour. This plan was adopted by them, by vote. I wish it to be understood that it was not _my_ plan, but _theirs_, and that I am at any time willing to have the study card down once in half an hour, whenever a majority of the scholars, voting by ballot, desire it. You will find that this system of having a distinct time for whispering, when all may whisper freely, all communication being entirely excluded at other times, will at first give you some trouble. It will be hard for you, if you are not accustomed to it, to learn conscientiously and faithfully to comply. Besides, at first you will often need some little information, or an article which you might obtain in a moment, but which you cannot innocently ask for till the card is down, and this might keep you waiting an hour. You will, however, after a few such instances, soon learn to make your preparations before hand, and if you are a girl of enlarged views and elevated feelings, you will good humoredly acquiesce in suffering a little inconvenience yourself, for the sake of helping to preserve those _distinct_ and well _defined_ lines, by which all boundaries must be marked, in a large establishment, if order and system are to be preserved at all. Though at first you may experience a little inconvenience, you will soon take pleasure in the scientific strictness of the plan. It will gratify you to observe the profound stillness of the room where a hundred are studying. You will take pleasure in observing the sudden transition from the silence of study hours to the joyful sounds, and the animating activity of recess, when the Study Card goes down; and then when it rises again at the close of the recess, you will be gratified to observe how suddenly the sounds which have filled the air and made the room so lively a scene are hushed into silence by the single and almost inaudible touch of that little bell. You will take pleasure in this, for young and old always take pleasure in the strict and rigid operation of _system_, rather than in laxity and disorder. I am convinced also that the scholars do like the operation of this plan for I do not have to make any efforts to sustain it. With the exception that occasionally, usually not oftener than once in several months, I allude to the subject, and that chiefly on account of a few careless and unfaithful individuals, I have little to say or to do to maintain the authority of the study card. Most of the scholars obey it of their own accord, implicitly and cordially. And I believe they consider this faithful monitor, not only one of the most useful, but one of the most agreeable friends they have. We should not only regret its services, but miss its company, if it should be taken away. This regulation then, viz., to abstain from all communication with one another, and from all leaving of seats, at certain times which are marked by the position of the Study Card, is the only one which can properly be called a _rule_ of the school. There are a great many arrangements and plans relating to the _instruction_ of the pupils, but no other specific _rules_ relating to _their conduct_. You are, of course, while in the school, under the same moral obligations which rest upon you elsewhere. You must be kind to one another, respectful to superiors, and quiet and orderly in your deportment. You must do nothing to encroach upon another's rights, or to interrupt and disturb your companions in their pursuits. You must not produce disorder, or be wasteful of the public property, or do any thing else which you might know is in itself wrong. But you are to avoid these things, not because there are any rules in this school against them, for there are none;--but because they are in _themselves wrong_;--in all places and under all circumstances, wrong. The universal and unchangeable principles of duty are the same here as elsewhere. I do not make rules pointing them out, but expect that you will, through your own conscience and moral principle, discover and obey them. Such a case as this, for example, once occurred. A number of little girls began to amuse themselves in recess with running about among the desks in pursuit of one another, and they told me, in excuse for it, that they did not know that it was "_against the rule_." "It is not against the rule;" said I, "I have never made any rule against running about among the desks." "Then," asked they, "did we do wrong?" "Do you think it would be a good plan," I inquired, "to have it a common amusement in the recess, for the girls to hunt each other among the desks?" "No sir," they replied simultaneously. "Why not? There are some reasons I do not know, however whether you will have the ingenuity to think of them." "We may start the desks from their places," said one. "Yes," said I, "they are fastened down very slightly, so that I may easily alter their position." "We might upset the inkstands," said another. "Sometimes," added a third, "we run against the scholars who are sitting in their seats." "It seems then you have ingenuity enough to discover the reasons. Why did not these reasons prevent your doing it." "We did not think of them before." "True; that is the exact state of the case. Now when persons are so eager to promote their own enjoyment, as to forget the rights and the comforts of others, it is _selfishness_. Now is there any rule in this school against selfishness." "No sir." "You are right. There is not. But selfishness is wrong,--very wrong, in whatever form it appears,--here, and every where else; and that, whether I make any rules against it or not." You will see from this anecdote that though there is but one rule of the school, I by no means intend to say that there is only _one way of doing wrong here_. That would be very absurd. You _must not do any thing which you may know, by proper reflection, to be in itself wrong_. This however is an universal principle of duty, not a _rule_ of the Mt. Vernon School. If I should attempt to make rules which would specify and prohibit every possible way by which you might do wrong, my laws would be innumerable. And even then I should fail of securing my object, unless you had the disposition to do your duty. No legislation can enact laws as fast as a perverted ingenuity can find means to evade them. You will perhaps ask what will be the consequence if we transgress, either the single rule of the school, or any of the great principles of duty. In other words what are the punishments which are resorted to in the Mt. Vernon School? The answer is there are no punishments. I do not say that I should not, in case all other means should fail, resort to the most decisive measures to secure obedience and subordination. Most certainly, I should do so, as it would plainly be my duty to do it. If you should at any time be so unhappy as to violate your obligations to yourself, to your companions, or to me,--should you misimprove your time, or exhibit an unkind or a selfish spirit, or be disrespectful or insubordinate to your teachers,--I should go frankly and openly, but kindly to you, and endeavor to convince you of your fault. I should very probably do this by addressing a note to you, as I suppose this should be less unpleasant to you than a conversation. In such a case, I shall hope that you will as frankly and openly reply; telling me whether you admit your fault and are determined to amend, or else informing me of the contrary. I shall wish you to be _sincere_, and then I shall know what course to take next. But as to the consequences which may result to you if you should persist in what is wrong, it is not necessary that you should know them before hand. They who wander from duty, always plunge themselves into troubles they do not anticipate; and if you do what, at the time you are doing it, you know to be wrong, it will not be unjust that you should suffer the consequences, even if they were not beforehand understood and expected. This will be the case with you all through life, and it will be the case here. I say it _will_ be the case here; I ought rather to say that it _will be_ the case, should you be so unhappy as to do wrong and to persist in it. Such cases however never occur. At least they occur so seldom, and at intervals so great, that every thing of the nature of punishment, that is, the depriving a pupil of any enjoyment, or subjecting her to any disgrace, or giving her pain in any way in consequence of her faults, except the simple pain of awakening conscience in her bosom is almost entirely unknown. I hope that you will always be ready to confess and forsake your faults, and endeavor while you remain in school, to improve in character, and attain as far as possible, every moral excellence. I ought to remark before dismissing this topic, that I place very great confidence in the scholars in regard to their moral conduct and deportment, and they fully deserve it. I have no care and no trouble in what is commonly called _the government of the school_. Neither myself nor any one else is employed in any way in watching the scholars, or keeping any sort of account of them. I should not at any time hesitate to call all the teachers in an adjoining room, leaving the school alone for half an hour, and I should be confident, that at such a time order, and stillness, and attention to study would prevail as much as ever. The scholars would not look to see whether I was in my desk, but whether the Study Card was up. The school was left in this way, half an hour every day, during a quarter, that we might have a teachers' meeting, and the school went on, generally quite as well, to say the least, as when the teachers were present. One or two instances of irregular conduct occurred. I do not now recollect precisely what they were. They were however, fully acknowledged and not repeated, and I believe the scholars were generally more scrupulous and faithful then than at other times. They would not betray the confidence reposed in them. This plan was continued until it was found more convenient to have the teachers' meeting in the afternoons. When any thing wrong is done in school, I generally state the case and request the individuals who have done it to let me know who they are. They do it sometimes by notes and sometimes in conversation,--but they always do it. The plan _always_ succeeds. The scholars all know that there is nothing to be feared from confessing faults to me;--but that on the other hand, it is a most direct and certain way to secure returning peace and happiness. I can illustrate this by describing a case which actually occurred. Though the description is not to be considered so much an accurate account of what occurred in a particular case, as an illustration of the _general spirit and manner_ in which such cases are disposed of. I accidentally understood, that some of the younger scholars were in the habit, during recesses and after school, of ringing the door bell and then running away to amuse themselves with the perplexity of their companions, who should go to the door and find no one there. I explained in a few words, one day, to the school, that this was wrong. "How many," I then asked, "have ever been put to the trouble to go to the door, when the bell has thus been rung? They may rise." A very large number of scholars stood up. Those who had done the mischief were evidently surprised at the extent of the trouble they had occasioned. "Now," I continued, "I think all will be convinced that the trouble which this practice has occasioned to the fifty or sixty young ladies, who cannot be expected to find amusement in such a way, is far greater than the pleasure it can have given to the few who are young enough to have enjoyed it. Therefore it was wrong. Do you think the girls who rang the bell might have known this, by proper reflection?" "Yes sir," the school generally answered. "I do not mean," said I, "if they had set themselves formally at work to think about the subject; but with such a degree of reflection as ought reasonably to be expected of little girls, in the hilarity of recess and of play. "Yes sir," was still the reply, but fainter than before. "There is one way by which I might ascertain whether you were old enough to know that this was wrong, and that is by asking those who have refrained from doing this, because they supposed it would be wrong, to rise. Then if some of the youngest scholars in school should stand up, as I have no doubt they would, it would prove that all might have known, if they had been equally conscientious. But if I ask those to rise who have _not_ rung the bell, I shall make known to the whole school who they are that have done it, and I wish that the exposure of faults should be private, unless it is _necessary_ that it should be public. I will therefore not do it. I have myself however, no doubt that all might have known that it was wrong." "There is," continued I, "another injury which must grow out of such a practice. This I should not have expected the little girls could think of. In fact, I doubt whether any in school will think of it. Can any one tell what it is?" No one replied. "I should suppose that it would lead you to disregard the bell when it rings, and that consequently a gentleman or lady might sometimes ring in vain; the scholars near the door, saying, 'Oh it is only the little girls.'" "Yes sir," was heard from all parts of the room. I found from farther inquiry that this had been the case, and I closed by saying, "I am satisfied, that those who have inadvertently fallen into this practice are sorry for it, and that if I should leave it here, no more cases of it would occur, and this is all I wish. At the same time, they who have done this, will feel more effectually relieved from the pain which having done wrong must necessarily give them, if they individually acknowledge it to me. I wish therefore that all who have done so, would write me notes stating the facts. If any one does not do it, she will punish herself severely, for she will feel for many days to come, that while her companions were willing to acknowledge their faults, she wished to conceal and cover hers. Conscience will reproach her bitterly for her insincerity, and whenever she hears the sound of the door bell, it will remind her not only of her fault, but of what is far worse _her willingness to appear innocent when she was really guilty_." Before the close of the school I had eight or ten notes acknowledging the fault, describing the circumstances of each case, and expressing promises to do so no more. It is by such methods as this, rather than by threatening and punishment, that I manage the cases of discipline which from time to time occur, but even such as this, slight as it is, occur very seldom. Weeks and weeks sometimes elapse without one. When they do occur they are always easily settled by confession and reform. Sometimes I am asked to _forgive_ the offence. But I never forgive. I have no power to forgive. God must forgive you when you do wrong, or the burden must remain. My duty is, to take measures to prevent future transgression, and to lead those who have been guilty of it, to God for pardon. If they do not go to him, though they may satisfy me, as principal of a school, by not repeating the offence,--they must remain _unforgiven_. I can _forget_, and I do forget. For example, in this last case, I have not the slightest recollection of any individual who was engaged in it. The evil was entirely removed, and had it not afforded me a convenient illustration here, perhaps I should never have thought of it again,--still it may not yet be _forgiven_. It may seem strange that I should speak so seriously of God's forgiveness for such a trifle as that. Does he notice a child's ringing a door bell in play? He notices when a child is willing to yield to temptation, to do what she knows to be wrong, and to act, even in the slightest trifle, from a selfish disregard for the convenience of others. This spirit he always notices, and though I may stop any particular form of its exhibition, it is for Him alone to forgive it and to purify the heart from its power. But I shall speak more particularly on this subject under the head of Religious Instruction. II. ORDER OF DAILY EXERCISES. There will be given you when you enter the school a blank schedule, in which the divisions of each forenoon for one week are marked, and in which your own employments for every half hour are to be written. A copy of this is inserted on page 196. * * * * * This schedule, when filled up, forms a sort of a map of the week, in which you can readily find what are your duties for any particular time. The following description will enable you better to understand it. _Opening of the School._ The first thing which will call your attention as the hour for the commencement of the school approaches in the morning, is the ringing of a bell, five minutes before the time arrives, by the regulator, who sits at the curtained desk before the Study Card. One minute before the time, the bell is rung again, which is the signal for all to take their seats and prepare for the opening of the school. When the precise moment arrives, the Study Card is drawn up, and at the sound of its little bell, all the scholars recline their heads upon their desks and unite with me in a very short prayer for God's protection and blessing during the day. I adopted the plan of allowing the scholars to sit, because I thought it would be pleasanter for them, and they have in return been generally, so far as I know, faithful in complying with my wish that they would all assume the posture proposed, so that the school may present the uniform and serious aspect which is proper, when we are engaged in so solemn a duty. If you move your chair back a little, you will find the posture not inconvenient, but the only reward you will have for faithfully complying with the general custom is the pleasure of doing your duty, for no one watches you, and you would not be called to account should you neglect to conform. After the prayer we sing one or two verses of a hymn. The music is led by the piano; and we wish all to join in it who can sing. The exercises which follow are exhibited to the eye by the following diagram. MOUNT VERNON SCHOOL. SCHEDULE OF STUDIES. 1833. _Miss_ +-------+----------+------------+-----+-------------+-----+-----------+ | | FIRST | SECOND | | THIRD | | FOURTH | | | HOUR. | HOUR. | | HOUR. | | HOUR. | +-------+----------+------------+--+--+-------------+--+--+-----------+ | | EVENING | LANGUAGES. |G.|R.|MATHEMATICS. |G.|R.| SECTIONS. | | | LESSONS. | | | | | | | | +-------+----+-----+------+-----+--+--+------+------+--+--+-----+-----+ |MONDAY.| | | | | | | | | | | | | +-------+----+-----+------+-----+--+ +------+------+--+ +-----+-----+ | TUES. | | | | | | | | | | | | | +-------+----+-----+------+-----+--+ +------+------+--+ +-----+-----+ | WED. | | | | | | | | | | | | | +-------+----+-----+------+-----+--+ +------+------+--+ +-----+-----+ |THURS. | | | | | | | | | | | | | +-------+----+-----+------+-----+--+ +------+------+--+ +-----+-----+ |FRIDAY.| | | | | | | | | | | | | +-------+----+-----+------+-----+--+ +------+------+--+ +-----+-----+ | SAT. | | | | | | | | | | | | | +-------+----+-----+------+-----+--+--+------+------+--+--+-----+-----+ _First Hour.--Evening Lessons._ (See plan; page 196.) We then, as you will see by the schedule, commence the first hour of the day. It is marked evening lessons, because most, though not all, of the studies are intended to be prepared out of school. These studies are miscellaneous in their character, comprising Geography, History, Natural and Intellectual Philosophy, and Natural History. This hour, like all the other hours for study, is divided into two equal parts, some classes reciting in the first part, and others in the second. A bell is always rung _five minutes before the time_ for closing the recitation, to give the teachers notice that their time is nearly expired, and then again _at the time_, to give notice to new classes to take their places. Thus you will observe that five minutes before the half hour expires, the bell will ring; soon after which the classes in recitation will take their seats. Precisely at the end of the half hour, it will ring again, when new classes will take their places. In the same manner notice is given five minutes before the second half of the hour expires, and so in all the other three hours. At the end of the first hour, the Study Card will be let half down, five minutes, and you will perceive that the sound of its bell will immediately produce a decided change in the whole aspect of the room. It is the signal, as has been before explained, for universal permission to whisper, and to leave seats, though not for loud talking or play, so that those who wish to continue their studies may do so without interruption. When the five minutes has expired, the Card goes up again, and its sound immediately restores silence and order. _Second Hour.--Languages._ (See plan.) We then commence the second hour of the school. This is devoted to the study of the Languages. The Latin, French, and English classes recite at this time. By English classes I mean those studying the English _as a language_, i. e. classes in Grammar, Rhetoric, and Composition. The hour is divided as the first hour is, and the bell is rung in the same way, i. e. at the close of each half hour, and also five minutes before the close, to give the classes notice that the time for recitation is about to expire. _First General Exercise._ (See Plan.) You will observe then, that there follows upon the schedule, a quarter of an hour marked G. That initial stands for General Exercise, and when it arrives each pupil is to lay aside her work, and attend to any exercise which may be proposed. This quarter of an hour is appropriated to a great variety of purposes. Sometimes I give a short and familiar lecture on some useful subject connected with science or art, or the principles of duty. Sometimes we have a general reading lesson. Sometimes we turn the school into a Bible class. Again the time is occupied in attending to some general _business_ of the school. The bell is rung one minute before the close of the time, and when the period appropriated to this purpose has actually expired, the Study Card, for the first time in the morning, is let entirely down, and the room is at once suddenly transformed into a scene of life and motion and gaiety. _First Recess._ (See plan.) The time for the recess is a quarter of an hour, and as you will see, it is marked R. on the schedule. We have various modes of amusing ourselves and finding exercise and recreation in recesses. Sometimes the girls bring their battledoors to school. Sometimes they have a large number of soft balls, with which they amuse themselves. A more common amusement is marching to the music of the piano. For this purpose, a set of signals by the whistle has been devised, by which commands are communicated to the school. In these and similar amusements the recess passes away, and one minute before it expires the bell is rung, to give notice of the approach of study hours. At this signal the scholars begin to prepare for a return to the ordinary duties of school, and when at the full expiration of the recess, the Study Card again goes up, silence, and attention, and order is immediately restored. _Third Hour--Mathematics._ (See plan.) There follows next, as you will see by reference to the schedule, an hour marked Mathematics. It is time for studying and reciting Arithmetic, Algebra, Geometry and similar studies. It is divided as the previous hours were, into two equal parts, and the bell is rung as has been described, five minutes before the close, and precisely at the close of each half hour. _Second General Exercise.--Business._ (See plan.) Then follows two quarter hours, appropriated like those heretofore described, the first to a General Exercise, the second to a Recess. At the first of these, the general business of the school is transacted. As this business will probably appear new to you, and will attract your attention, I will describe its nature and design. At first you will observe a young lady rise at the secretary's desk, to read a journal of what was done the day before. The notices which I gave, the arrangements I made,--the subjects discussed and decided,--and in fact every thing important and interesting in the business or occurrences of the preceding day--is recorded by the secretary of the school, and read at this time. This journal ought not to be a mere dry record of votes and business, but as far as possible, an interesting description in a narrative style, of the occurrences of the day. The Secretary must keep a memorandum, and ascertain that every thing important really finds a place in the record, but she may employ any good writer in school to prepare, from her minutes, the full account. After the record is read, you will observe me take from a little red morocco wrapper, which has been brought to my desk, a number of narrow slips of paper, which I am to read aloud. In most assemblies it is customary for any person wishing it, to rise in his place, and propose any plan, or as it is called, "make any motion" that he pleases. It would be unpleasant for a young lady to do this, in presence of a hundred companions, and we have consequently resorted to another plan. The red wrapper is placed in a part of the room, accessible to all, and any one who pleases, writes upon a narrow slip of paper anything she wishes to lay before the school, and deposits it there, and at the appointed time, the whole are brought to me. These propositions are of various kinds. I can perhaps best give you an idea of them, by such specimens as occur to me. "A. B. resigns her office of copyist, as she is about to leave school." "Proposed, that a class in Botany be formed. There are many who would like to join it." "When will vacation commence?" "Proposed, that a music committee be appointed, so that we can have some marching in recess." "Proposed that school begin at nine o'clock." "Mr. Abbott. Will you have the goodness to explain to us what is meant by the Veto Message." "Proposed that we have locks upon our desks." You see that the variety is very great, and there are usually from four or five to ten or fifteen of such papers daily. You will be at liberty to make in this way, any suggestion or inquiry, or to propose any change you please in any part of the instruction or administration of the school. If any thing dissatisfies you, you ought not to murmur at it in private, or complain of it to your companions; thus injuring, to no purpose, both your own peace and happiness and theirs,--but you ought immediately to bring up the subject in the way above described, that the evil may be removed. I receive some of the most valuable suggestions in this way, from the older and more reflecting pupils. These suggestions are read. Sometimes I decide myself. Sometimes I say the pupils may decide. Sometimes I ask their opinion and wishes, and then, after taking them into consideration, come to a conclusion. For example, I will insert a few of these propositions, as these papers are called, describing the way in which they would be disposed of. Most of them are real cases. "Mr. Abbott. The first class in Geography is so large that we have not room in the recitation seats. Cannot we have another place?" After reading this, I should perhaps say, "The class in Geography may rise and be counted." They rise. Those in each division are counted by the proper officer, as will hereafter be explained, and the numbers are reported aloud to me. It is all done in a moment. "How many of you think you need better accommodations?" If a majority of hands are raised, I say, "I wish the teacher of that class would ascertain whether any other place of recitation is vacant, or occupied by a smaller class at that time, and report the case to me." "Proposed, that we be allowed to walk upon the common in the recesses." "I should like to have some plan formed, by which you can walk on the common in recesses, but there are difficulties. If all should go out together, it is probable that some would be rude and noisy, and that others would come back tardy and out of breath. Besides, as the recess is short, so many would be in haste to prepare to go out, that there would be a great crowd and much confusion in the Ante-room and passage ways. I do not mention these as insuperable objections, but only as difficulties which there must be some plan to avoid. Perhaps, however, they cannot be avoided. Do any of you think of any plan?" I see perhaps two or three hands raised, and call upon the individuals by name, and they express their opinions. One says that a part can go out at a time. Another proposes that those who are tardy one day should not go out again, &c. "I think it possible that a plan can be formed on these or some such principles. If you will appoint a committee who will prepare a plan, and mature its details, and take charge of the execution of it, you may try the experiment. I will allow it to go on as long as you avoid the evils I have above alluded to." A committee is then raised to report in writing at the business hour of the following day. "Proposed, that the Study Card be down every half hour." "You may decide this question yourselves. That you may vote more freely, I wish you to vote by ballot. The boxes will be open during the next recess. The Vote-Receivers will write the question, and place it upon the boxes. All who feel interested in the subject, may carry in their votes, Ay or Nay. When the result is reported to me I will read it to the school." * * * * * In this and similar ways the various business brought up is disposed of. This custom is useful to the scholars, for it exercises and strengthens their judgment and their reflecting powers more than almost any thing besides; so that if interesting them in this way in the management of the school, were of no benefit to me, I should retain the practice, as most valuable to them. But it is most useful to me and to the school. I think nothing has contributed more to its prosperity than the active interest which the scholars have always taken in its concerns, and the assistance they have rendered me in carrying my plans into effect. You will observe that in transacting this business, very little is actually done by myself, except making the ultimate decision. All the details of business are assigned to teachers, or to officers and committees appointed for the purpose. By this means we despatch business very rapidly. The system of offices will be explained in another place; but I may say here that all appointments and elections are made in this quarter hour, and by means of the assistance of these officers the transaction of business is so facilitated that much more can sometimes be accomplished than you would suppose possible. I consider this period as one the most important in the whole morning. _Second Recess._ (See plan.) After the expiration of the quarter hour above described, the study card is dropped, and a recess succeeds. _Fourth Hour.--Sections._ (See plan.) In all the former part of the day the scholars are divided into _classes_, according to their proficiency in particular branches of study, and they resort to their _recitations_ for _instruction_. They now are divided into six _sections_ as we call them, and placed under the care of _superintendents_ not for instruction, but for what may be called supervision. _Teaching_ a pupil is not all that is necessary to be done for her in school. There are many other things, to be attended to--such as supplying her with the various articles necessary for her use,--seeing that her desk is convenient,--that her time is well arranged,--that she has not too much to do, nor too little,--and that no difficulty which can be removed, obstructs her progress in study, or her happiness in school. The last hour is appropriated to this purpose, with the understanding, however, that such a portion of it as is not wanted by the superintendent, is to be spent in study. You will see then, when the last hour arrives, that all the scholars go in various directions, to the meetings of their respective sections. Here they remain as long as the superintendent retains them. Sometimes they adjourn almost immediately; perhaps after having simply attended to the distribution of pens for the next day; at other times they remain during the hour, attending to such exercises as the superintendent may plan. The design, however, and nature of this whole arrangement, I shall explain more fully in another place. _Close of the School._ As the end of the hour approaches, five minutes notice is given by the bell, and when the time arrives, the study card is half dropped for a moment before the closing exercises. When it rises again the room is restored to silence and order. We then sing a verse or two of a hymn, and commend ourselves to God's protection in a short prayer. As the scholars raise their heads from the posture of reverence they have assumed, they pause a moment till the regulator lets down the study card, and the sound of its bell is the signal that our duties at school are ended for the day. III. INSTRUCTION AND SUPERVISION OF PUPILS. For the instruction of the pupils, the school is divided into _classes_, and for their general supervision, into _sections_, as has been intimated in the preceding chapter. The head of a _class_ is called a _Teacher_, and the head of a _section_ a _Superintendent_. The same individual may be both the Teacher of a class, and the Superintendent of a section. The two offices are, however, entirely distinct in their nature and design. As you will perceive by recalling to mind the daily order of exercises, the classes meet and recite during the first three hours of the school, and the sections assemble on the fourth and last. We shall give each a separate description. 1. CLASSES. The object of the division into classes is _instruction_. Whenever it is desirable that several individuals should pursue a particular study, a list of their names is made out, a book selected, a time for recitation assigned, a teacher appointed, and the exercises begin. In this way a large number of classes have been formed, and the wishes of parents or the opinion of the Principal, and in many cases that of the pupil, determines how many and what shall be assigned to each individual. A list of these classes, with the average age of the members, the name of the teacher, and the time of recitation, is posted in a conspicuous place, and public notice is given whenever a new class is formed. You will therefore have the opportunity to know all the arrangements of school in this respect, and I wish you to exercise your own judgment and discretion a great deal, in regard to your studies. I do not mean I expect you to _decide_, but to _reflect_ upon them. Look at the list, and consider what am most useful for you. Propose to me or to your parents, changes, whenever you think any are necessary; and when you finish one study, reflect carefully, yourself, on the question what you shall next commence. The scholars prepare their lessons when they please. They are expected to be present and prepared at the time of recitation, but they make the preparation when it is most convenient. The more methodical and systematic of the young ladies, mark the times of _study_ as well as of _recitation_ upon their schedules, so that the employment of their whole time at school is regulated by a systematic plan. You will observe too, that by this plan of having a great many classes reciting through the first three hours of the morning, every pupil can be employed as much or as little as her parents please. In a case of ill health, she may, as has often been done in such cases at the request of parents, join one or two classes only, and occupy the whole forenoon in preparing for them, and be entirely free from school duties at home. Or she may, as is much more frequently the case, choose to join a great many classes, so as to fill up, perhaps, her whole schedule with recitations, in which case she must prepare all her lessons at home. It is the duty of teachers to take care, however, when a pupil pleads want of time as a reason for being unprepared in any lesson, that the case is fully examined, that it may be ascertained whether the individual has joined too many classes, in which case some one should be dropped, and thus the time and the employments of each individual should be so adjusted as to give her constant occupation _in school_, and as much more as her parents may desire. By this plan of the classes, each scholar goes on just as rapidly in her studies, as her time, and talents, and health will allow. No one is kept back by the rest. Each class goes on regularly and systematically, all its members keeping exactly together in that study, but the various members of it will have joined a greater or less number of other classes, according to their age, or abilities, or progress in study, so that all will or may have full employment for their time. When you first enter the school, you will, for a day or two, be assigned to but few classes, for your mind will be distracted by the excitement of new scenes and pursuits, and the intellectual effort necessary for _joining_ a class is greater than that requisite for _going on_ with it, after being once under way. After a few days you will come to me and say, perhaps, (for this is ordinarily the process:) "Mr. Abbott, I think I have time for some more studies." "I will thank you to bring me your schedule," I say in reply, "so that I can see what you have now to do." By glancing my eye over the schedule in such a case, I see in a moment what duties have been already assigned you, and from my general schedule, containing all the studies of the school, I select what would be most suitable for you, after conferring with you about your past pursuits, and your own wishes or those of your parents in regard to your future course. Additions are thus made, until your time is fully occupied. * * * * * The manner of recitation in the classes, is almost boundlessly varied. The design is not to have you commit to memory what the book contains, but to understand and digest it,--to incorporate it fully into your own mind, that it may come up in future life, in such a form as you wish it for use. Do not then, in ordinary cases, endeavor to fix _words_, but _ideas_ in your minds. Conceive clearly,--paint distinctly to your imagination what is described,--contemplate facts in all their bearings and relations, and thus endeavor to exercise the judgment and the thinking and reasoning powers, rather than the mere memory, upon the subjects which will come before you. 2. SECTIONS. In describing the order of daily exercises, I alluded to the _sections_ which assemble in the last hour of the school. It is necessary that I should fully describe the system of sections, as it constitutes a very important part of the plan of the school. Besides giving the scholars the necessary intellectual instruction, there are, as I have already remarked, a great many other points which must receive attention, in order to promote their progress, and to secure the regular operation and general welfare of the school. These various points have something common in their nature, but it is difficult to give them a common name. They are such as supplying the pupils with pens and paper, and stationary of other kinds,--becoming acquainted with each individual, ascertaining that she has enough, and not too much to do,--arranging her work so that no one of her duties shall interfere with another,--assisting her to discover and to correct her faults,--and removing any sources of difficulty or causes of discontent, which may gradually come in her way. These, and a multitude of similar points constituting what may be called the general _administration_ of the school, become, when the number of pupils is large, a most important branch of the teacher's duty. To accomplish these objects more effectually, the school is divided into SIX SECTIONS, arranged not according to proficiency in particular studies, as the several classes are, but according to _age and general maturity of mind_. Each one of these sections is assigned to the care of a Superintendent. These Superintendents, it is true, during most of school hours are also Teachers. Their duties however as _Teachers_, and as _Superintendents_ are entirely distinct. I shall briefly enumerate the duties which devolve upon her in the latter capacity. 1. A Superintendent ought to prepare an exact list of the members of her section, and to become intimately acquainted with them, so as to be as far as possible their friend and confidant, and to feel a stronger interest in their progress in study and their happiness in school, and a greater personal attachment to them than to any other scholars. 2. She is to superintend the preparation of their schedules,--to see that each one has enough and not too much to do, by making known to me the necessity of a change where such necessity exists;--to see that the schedules are submitted to the parents, and that their opinion, or suggestions if they wish to make any, are reported to me. 3. She is to take care that all the daily wants of her section are supplied,--that all have pens and paper, and desks of suitable height. If any are new scholars, she ought to interest herself in assisting them to become acquainted in school,--if they are friendless and alone, to find companions for them, and to endeavor in every way, to make their time pass pleasantly and happily. 4. To watch the characters of the members of her section. To inquire of their several teachers as to the progress they make in study, and the faithfulness and punctuality with which they prepare their lessons. She ought to ascertain whether they are punctual at school, and regular in their habits,--whether their desks are neat and well arranged, and their exercises carefully executed. She ought to correct, through her own influence, any evils of this kind she may find, or else immediately to refer the cases where this cannot be done, to me. The better and the more pleasantly to accomplish the object of exerting a favorable influence upon the characters of the members of their sections, the Superintendents ought often to bring up subjects connected with moral and religious duty in section meetings. This may be done in the form of subjects assigned for composition, or proposed for free discussion in writing or conversation, or, the Superintendents may write themselves, and read to the section the instructions they wish to give. 5. Though the Superintendents as such, have necessarily speaking, no _teaching_ to do, still they ought particularly to secure the progress of every pupil in what may be called the _essential_ studies, such as reading, writing, and spelling. For this purpose they either see that their pupils are going on successfully in classes in school, in these branches, or they may attend to them in the Section, provided that they never allow such instruction to interfere with their more appropriate and important duties. In a word, the Superintendents are to consider the members of their Sections as pupils confided to their care, and they are not merely to discharge mechanically any mere routine of duty, such as can be here pointed out, but to exert all their powers,--their ingenuity, their knowledge of human character, their judgment and discretion in every way, to secure for each of those committed to their care, the highest benefits which the institution to which they belong can afford. They are to keep a careful and faithful record of their plans and of the history of their respective Sections, and to endeavor, as faithfully and as diligently, to advance the interests of the members of them, as if the Sections were separate and independent schools of their own. A great responsibility is thus evidently intrusted to them, but not a great deal of _power_. They ought not to make changes, except in very plain cases, without referring the subject to me. They ought not to make rash experiments, or even to try many new plans without first obtaining my approval of them. They ought to refer all cases which they cannot easily manage, to my care. They ought to understand the distinction between _seeing that a thing is done_, and _doing it_. For example, if a Superintendent thinks that one of her Section is in too high a class in Arithmetic, her duty is not to undertake, by her own authority, to remove her to a lower one, for, as Superintendent, she has no authority over Arithmetic classes; nor should she go the opposite extreme of saying, "I have no authority over Arithmetic classes, and therefore I have nothing to do with this case." She ought to go to the teacher of the class to which her pupil had been unwisely assigned, converse with her, obtain her opinion, then find some other class more suited to her attainments, and after fully ascertaining all the facts in the case, bring them to me, that I may make the change. This is _superintendence_;--_looking over_ the condition and progress of the scholar. The Superintendents have thus great responsibility, and yet comparatively little power. They accomplish a great deal of good, and in its ordinary course it is by their direct personal efforts; but in making changes and remedying defects and evils, they act generally in a different way. The last hour of school is devoted to the Sections. No classes recite then, but the Sections meet, if the Superintendents wish, and attend to such exercises as they provide. Each Section has its own organization, its own officers and plans. These arrangements of course, vary in their character according to the ingenuity and enterprise of the Superintendents, and more especially according to the talents and intellectual ardor of the members of the Section. The two upper Sections are called Senior, the next two Middle, and the two younger Junior. The senior Sections are distinguished by using paper for Section purposes, with a light blue tinge. To the middle Sections is assigned a light straw color; and to the junior, pink. These colors are used for the schedules of the members, and for the records, and other documents of the Section. This account, though it is brief, will be sufficient to explain to you the general principles of the plan. You will soon become acquainted with the exercises and arrangements of the particular Section to which you will be assigned, and by taking an active interest in them, and endeavoring to co-operate with the Superintendent in all her measures, and to comply with her wishes, you will very materially add to her happiness, and do your part towards elevating the character of the circle to which you will belong. IV. OFFICERS. In consequence of the disposition early manifested by the scholars, to render me every assistance in their power in carrying into effect the plans of the school, and promoting its prosperity, I gradually adopted the plan of assigning to various officers and committees, a number of specific duties, relating to the general business of the school. These offices have gradually multiplied as the school has increased, and as business has accumulated. The system has, from time to time, been revised, condensed, and simplified, and at the present time it is thus arranged. The particular duties of each officer, are minutely described to the individuals themselves at the time of their election; all I intend here is to give a general view of the plan, such as is necessary for the scholars at large. There are then, _five departments_ of business entrusted to officers of the school, the names of the officers, and a brief exposition of their duties are as follows. [I omit the particular explanation of the duties of the officers, as the arrangement must vary in different schools, and the details of any one plan can only be useful in the school-room to which it belongs. It will be sufficient to name the officers of each department with their duties in general terms.] 1. REGULATORS. To assist in the ordinary routine of business in school--ringing the bells--managing the study card--distributing and collecting papers--counting votes, &c. 2. SECRETARIES. Keeping the records and executing writing of various kinds. 3. ACCOUNTANTS. Keeping a register of the scholars, and various other duties connected with the accounts. 4. LIBRARIANS. To take charge of books and stationary. 5. CURATORS. To secure neatness and good order in the apartments. The Secretaries and Accountants are appointed by the Principal, and will generally be chosen from the teachers. The first in each of the other departments are chosen by ballot, by the scholars. Each one thus chosen nominates the second in her department, and they two, the assistants. These nominations must be approved at a teacher's meeting, for if a scholar is inattentive to her studies, disorderly in her desk, or careless and troublesome in her manners, she evidently ought not to be appointed to public office. No person can hold an office in two of these departments. She can, if she pleases, however, resign one to accept another. Each of these departments ought often to assemble and consult together, and form plans for carrying into effect with greater efficiency, the objects entrusted to them. They are to keep a record of all their proceedings, the head of the department acting as secretary for this purpose. The following may be given as an example of the manner in which business is transacted by means of these officers. On the day that the above description of their duties was written, I wished for a sort of directory, to assist the collector employed to receive payments for the bills; and, to obtain it, I took the following steps. At the business quarter hour, I issued the following order. "Before the close of school I wish the distributors to leave upon each of the desks, a piece of paper," (the size I described.) "It is for a purpose which I shall then explain." Accordingly at any leisure moment, before the close of school, each one went with her box to the stationary shelves, which you will see in the corners of the room, where a supply of paper, of all the various sizes, used in school, is kept, and taking out a sufficient number, they supplied all the desks in their respective divisions. When the time for closing school arrived, I requested each young lady to write the name of her parent or guardian upon the paper, and opposite to it, his place of business. This was done in a minute or two. "All those whose parent's or guardian's name begins with a letter above _m._ may rise." They rose. "The distributors may collect the papers." The officers then passed round in regular order, each through her own division, and collected the papers. "Deliver them at the Accountant's desk." They were accordingly carried there, and received by the Accountants. In the same manner the others were collected and received by the Accountants, but kept separate. "I wish now the second Accountant would copy these in a little book I have prepared for the purpose, arranging them alphabetically, referring all doubtful cases again to me." The second Accountant then arranged the papers, and prepared them to go into the book, and the writer who belongs to the department copied them fairly. I describe this case, because it was one which occurred at the time I was writing the above description, and not because there is any thing otherwise peculiar in it. Such cases are continually taking place, and by the division of labor above illustrated, I am very much assisted in a great many of the duties, which would otherwise consume a great portion of my time. Any of the scholars may, at any time, make suggestions in writing, to any of these officers, or to the whole school. And if an officer should be partial, or unfaithful, or negligent in her duty, any scholar may propose her impeachment. After hearing what she chooses to write in her defence, a vote is taken on sustaining the impeachment. If it is sustained, she is deprived of the office and another appointed to fill her place. V. THE COURT. I have already described how all serious cases of doing wrong or neglect of duty are managed in the school. I manage them myself, by coming as directly and as openly as I can, to the heart and conscience of the offender. There are, however, a number of little transgressions, too small to be individually worthy of serious attention, but which are yet troublesome to the community, when frequently repeated. These relate chiefly to _order in the school rooms_. These misdemeanors are tried, half in jest, and half in earnest, by a sort of _court_, whose forms of process might make a legal gentleman smile. They however fully answer our purpose. I can best give you an idea of the court, by describing an actual trial. I ought however first to say, that any young lady, who chooses to be free from the jurisdiction of the court, can signify that wish to me, and she is safe from it. This however is never done. They all see the useful influence of it, and wish to sustain it. Near the close of school, I find perhaps on my desk a paper of which the following may be considered a copy. It is called the indictment. We accuse Miss A. B. of having waste papers in the aisle opposite her desk, at 11 o'clock, on Friday, Oct. 12. C. D. } E. F. } Witnesses. I give notice after school that a case is to be tried. Those interested, twenty or thirty perhaps, gather around my desk, while the sheriff goes to summon the accused and the witnesses. A certain space is marked off as the precincts of the court, within which no one must enter in the slightest degree, on pain of imprisonment, i. e. confinement to her seat until the court adjourns. "Miss A. B.; you are accused of having an untidy floor about your desk. Have you any objection to the indictment?" While she is looking over the indictment, to discover a misspelled word, or an error in the date, or some other latent flaw, I appoint any two of the bystanders, jury. The jury come forward to listen to the cause. The accused returns the indictment, saying, she has no objection, and the witnesses are called upon to present their testimony. Perhaps the prisoner alleges in defence that the papers were out _in the aisle_, not _under her desk_, or that she did not put them there, or that they were too few, or too small, to deserve attention. My charge to the jury would be somewhat as follows. "You are to consider and decide whether she was guilty of disorder; taking into view the testimony of the witnesses, and also her defence. It is considered here that each young lady is responsible not only for the appearance of the carpet _under her desk_, but also for the _aisle opposite to it_, so that her first ground of defence must be abandoned. So also with the second, that she did not put them there. She ought not to _have_ them there. Each scholar must keep her own place in a proper condition;--so that if disorder is found there, no matter who made it, she is responsible, if she only had time to remove it. As to the third, you must judge whether enough has been proved by the witnesses to make out real disorder." The jury write _guilty_ or _not guilty_ upon the paper, and it is returned to me. If sentence is pronounced it is usually confinement to the seat, during a recess, or part of a recess, or something that requires slight effort or sacrifice, for the public good. The sentence is always something _real_, though always _slight_, and the court has a great deal of influence in a double way; making amusement, and preserving order. The cases tried are very various, but none of the serious business of the school is entrusted to it. Its sessions are always held out of school hours; and in fact it is hardly considered by the scholars as a constituent part of the arrangements of the school. So much so, that I hesitated much about inserting an account of it in this description. VI. RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. In giving you this account, brief as it is, I ought not to omit to speak of one feature of our plan, which we have always intended should be one of the most prominent and distinctive characteristics of the school. The gentlemen who originally interested themselves in its establishment, had mainly in view the exertion, by the Principal, of a decided moral and religious influence over the hearts of the pupils. Knowing, as they did, how much more dutiful and affectionate at home you would be, how much more successful in your studies at school, how much happier in your intercourse with each other, and in your prospects for the future both here and hereafter, if your hearts could be brought under the influence of Christian principle, they were strongly desirous that the school should be so conducted, that its religious influence, though gentle and alluring in its character, should be frank, and open, and decided. I need not say that I myself entered very cordially into these views. It has been my constant effort, and one of the greatest sources of my enjoyment, to try to win my pupils to piety, and to create such an atmosphere in school, that conscience, and moral principle, and affection for the unseen Jehovah, should reign here. You can easily see hew much pleasanter it is for me to have the school controlled by such an influence, than if it were necessary for we to hire you to diligence in duty, by prizes or rewards, or to deter you from neglect or from transgression, by reproaches, and threatenings, and punishments. The influence which the school has thus exerted has always been cordially welcomed by my pupils, and approved, so far as I have known, by their parents, though four or five denominations, and fifteen or twenty different congregations have been, from time to time, represented in the school. There are few parents who would not like to have their children _Christians_;--sincerely and practically so;--for every thing which a parent can desire in a child is promoted, just in proportion as she opens her heart to the influence of the spirit of piety. But that you may understand what course is taken, I shall describe, first what I wish to effect in the hearts of my pupils, and then what means I take to accomplish the object. 1. A large number of young persons of your age, and in circumstances similar to those in which you are placed perform with some fidelity their various outward duties, _but maintain no habitual and daily communion with God_. It is very wrong for them to live thus without God, but they do not see,--or rather do not feel the guilt of it. They only think of their accountability to _human beings_ like themselves, for example their parents, teachers, brothers and sisters, and friends. Consequently they think most of their _external_ conduct, which is all that human beings can see. Their _hearts_ are neglected and become very impure,--full of evil thoughts, and desires, and passions, which are not repented of, and consequently not forgiven. Now what I wish to accomplish in regard to all my pupils is, that they should begin to _feel their accountability to God_, and to act according to it. That they should explore their _hearts_ and ask God's forgiveness for all their past sins, through Jesus Christ, who died for them that they might be forgiven; and that they should from this time, try to live _near to God_, feel his presence, and enjoy that solid peace and happiness which flows from a sense of his protection. When such a change takes place, it relieves the mind from that constant and irritating uneasiness, which the great mass of mankind feel as a constant burden; the ceaseless forebodings of a troubled conscience, reproaching them for their past accumulated guilt, and warning them of a judgment to come. The change which I endeavor to promote, relieves the heart-both of the present suffering and of the future danger. After endeavoring to induce you to begin to act from Christian principle, I wish to explain to you, your various duties to yourselves, your parents, and to God. * * * * * 2. The measures to which I resort to accomplish these objects are three. First. _Religious Exercises in School._ We open and close the school with a very short prayer, and one or two verses of a hymn. Sometimes I occupy ten or fifteen minutes at one of the general exercises, or at the close of the school, in giving instruction upon practical religious duty. The subjects are sometimes suggested by a passage of scripture read for the purpose, but more commonly in another way. You will observe often at the close of the school or at an appointed general exercise, that a scholar will bring to my desk a dark-colored morocco wrapper, containing several small strips of paper upon which questions relating to moral or religious duty, or subjects for remarks from me, or anecdotes, or short statements of facts, giving rise to inquiries of various kinds, are written. This wrapper is deposited in a place accessible to all the scholars, and any one who pleases, deposits in it any question or suggestion on religious subjects which may occur to her. You can, at any time, do this yourself, thus presenting any doubt, or difficulty, or inquiry, which may at any time occur to you. Second. _Religious Exercise on Saturday afternoon._ In order to bring up more distinctly and systematically the subject of religious duty, I established a long time ago, a religious meeting on Saturday afternoon. It is intended for those who feel interested in receiving such instruction, and who can conveniently attend at that time. If you have not other engagements, and if your parents approve of it, I should be happy to have you attend. There will be very little to interest you except the subject itself, for I make all the instructions which I give there as plain, direct, and practical as is in my power. A considerable number of the scholars usually attend, and frequently bring with them many of their female friends. You can at any time invite any one whom you please, to come to the meeting. It commences at half past three and continues about half an hour. Third. _Personal religious instruction._ In consequence of the large number of my pupils, and the constant occupation of my time in school, I have scarcely any opportunity of religious conversation with them, even with those who particularly desire it. The practice has therefore arisen, and gradually extended itself almost universally in school, of writing to me on the subject. These communications are usually brief notes, expressing the writer's interest in the duties of piety, or bringing forward her own peculiar practical difficulties, or making specific inquiries, or asking particular instruction in regard to some branch of religious duty. I answer in a similar way,--very briefly and concisely however,--for the number of notes of this kind which I receive, is very large, and the time which I can devote to such a correspondence necessarily limited. I should like to receive such communications from all my pupils; for advice or instruction communicated in reply, being directly personal, is far more likely to produce effect. Besides my remarks being in writing, can be read a second time, and be more attentively considered and re-considered, than when words are merely spoken. These communications must always be begun by the pupil. I never, (unless there may be occasional exceptions in some few very peculiar cases) commence. I am prevented from doing this both by my unwillingness to obtrude such a subject personally upon those who might not welcome it, and by want of time. I have scarcely time to write to all those who are willing first to write to me. Many cases have occurred where individuals have strongly desired some private communication with me, but have hesitated long, and shrunk reluctantly from the first step. I hope it will not be so with you. Should you ever wish to receive from me any direct religious instruction, I hope you will write immediately and freely. I shall very probably not even notice that it is the first time I have received such a communication from you. So numerous and so frequent are these communications that I seldom observe, when I receive one from any individual for the first time, that it comes from one who has not written me before. * * * * * Such are the means to which I resort in endeavoring to lead my pupils to God and to duty. And you will observe that the whole design of them is to win and to allure, not to compel. The regular devotional exercises of school, are all which you will _necessarily_ witness. These are very short, occupying much less time than many of the pupils think desirable. The rest is all private and voluntary. I never make any effort to urge any one to attend the Saturday meeting, nor do I, except in a few rare and peculiar cases, ever address any one personally, unless she desires to be so addressed. You will be left therefore in this school unmolested,--to choose your own way. If you should choose to neglect religious duty, and to wander away from God, I shall still do all in my power to make you happy in school, and to secure for you in future life, such a measure of enjoyment, as can fall to the share of one, over whose prospects in another world there hangs so gloomy a cloud. I shall never reproach you, and perhaps may not even know what your choice is. Should you on the other hand prefer the peace and happiness of piety, and be willing to begin to walk in its paths, you will find many both among the teachers and pupils of the Mt. Vernon School to sympathize with you, and to encourage and help you on your way. CHAPTER VII. SCHEMING. The best teachers in our country, or rather those who might be the best, lose a great deal of their time, and endanger, or perhaps entirely destroy their hopes of success, by a scheming spirit, which is always reaching forward to something new. One has in his mind some new school book, by which Arithmetic, Grammar, or Geography are to be taught with unexampled rapidity, and his own purse to be filled, in a much more easy way, than by waiting for the rewards of patient industry. Another has the plan of a school, bringing into operation new principles of management or instruction, which he is to establish on some favored spot, and which is to become in a few years a second Hofwyl. Another has some royal road to learning, and though he is trammeled and held down by what he calls the ignorance and stupidity of his Trustees or his School Committee, yet if he could fairly put his principles and methods to the test, he is certain of advancing the science of Education half a century at least, at a single leap. Ingenuity in devising new ways, and enterprise in following them, are among the happiest characteristics of a new country rapidly filling with a thriving population. Without these qualities there could be no advance; society must be stationary; and from a stationary to a retrograde condition, the progress is inevitable. The disposition to make improvements and changes may however be too great. If so, it must he checked. On the other hand a slavish attachment to old established practices may prevail. Then the spirit of enterprise and experiment must be awakened and encouraged. Which of these two is to be the duty of a writer at any time, will of course depend upon the situation of the community at the time he writes, and of the class of readers for which he takes his pen. Now at the present time, it is undoubtedly true, that, while among the great mass of teachers there may be too little originality and enterprise, there is still among many a spirit of innovation and change, to which a caution ought to be addressed. But before I proceed, let me protect myself from misconception by one or two remarks. 1. There are a few individuals in various parts of our country, who by ingenuity and enterprise, have made real and important improvements in many departments of our science, and are still making them. The science is to be carried forward by such men. Let them not therefore understand that any thing which I shall say, applies at all to those real improvements which are from time to time, brought before the public. As examples of this there might easily be mentioned, were it necessary, several new modes of study, and new text books, and literary institutions on new plans, which have been brought forward within a few years, and proved, on actual trial, to be of real and permanent value. These are, or rather they were, when first conceived by the original projectors, new schemes; and the result has proved that they were good ones. Every teacher too must hope that such improvements will continue to be made. Let nothing therefore which shall be said on the subject of scheming in this chapter, be interpreted as intended to condemn real improvements of this kind, or to check those which may now be in progress, by men of age or experience, or of sound judgment, who are capable of distinguishing between a real improvement and a whimsical innovation, which can never live any longer than it is sustained by the enthusiasm of the original inventor. 2. There are a great many teachers in our country, who make their business a mere dull and formal routine, through which they plod on, month after month, and year after year, without variety or change, and who are inclined to stigmatize with the appellation of idle scheming, all plans, of whatever kind, to give variety or interest to the exercises of the school. Now whatever may be said in this chapter against unnecessary innovation and change, does not apply to efforts to secure variety in the details of daily study, while the great leading objects are steadily pursued. This subject has already been discussed in the chapter on Instruction, where it has been shown that every wise teacher, while he pursues the same great object, and adopts in substance the same leading measures at all times, will exercise all the ingenuity he possesses, and bring all his inventive powers into requisition to give variety and interest to the minute details. * * * * * To explain now what is meant by such scheming as is to be condemned, let us suppose a case, which is not very uncommon. A young man, while preparing for college, takes a school. When he first enters upon the duties of his office, he is diffident and timid, and walks cautiously in the steps which precedent has marked out for him. Distrusting himself, he seeks guidance in the example which others have set for him, and very probably he imitates precisely, though it may be insensibly and involuntarily, the manners and the plans of his own last teacher. This servitude soon however, if he is a man of natural abilities, passes away: he learns to try one experiment after another, until he insensibly finds that a plan may succeed, even if it was not pursued by his former teacher. So far it is well. He throws greater interest into his school, and into all its exercises by the spirit with which he conducts them. He is successful. After the period of his services has expired, he returns to the pursuit of his studies, encouraged by his success, and anticipating further triumphs in his subsequent attempts. He goes on through college we will suppose, teaching from time to time in the vacations, as opportunity occurs, taking more and more interest in the employment, and meeting with greater and greater success. This success is owing in a very great degree to the _freedom_ of his practice, that is to his escape from the thraldom of imitation. So long as he leaves the great objects of the school untouched, and the great features of its organization unchanged, his many plans for accomplishing these objects in new and various ways, awaken interest and spirit both in himself and in his scholars, and all goes on well. Now in such a case as this, a young teacher philosophizing upon his success and the causes of it, will almost invariably make this mistake; viz., he will attribute to something essentially excellent in his plans, the success which, in fact results from the novelty of them. When he proposes something new to a class, they all take an interest in it, because it is _new_. He takes, too, a special interest in it because it is an experiment which he is trying, and he feels a sort of pride and pleasure in securing its success. The new method which he adopts, may not be, _in itself_, in the least degree better than old methods. Yet it may succeed vastly better in his hands, than any old method he had tried before. And why? Why because it is new. It awakens interest in his class, because it offers them variety, and it awakens interest in him, because it is a plan which he has devised, and for whose success therefore he feels that his credit is at stake. Either of these circumstances is abundantly sufficient to account for its success. Either of these would secure success, unless the plan was a very bad one indeed. This may easily be illustrated by supposing a particular case. The teacher has, we will imagine, been accustomed to teach spelling in the usual way, by assigning a lesson in the spelling book, which the scholars have studied in their seats, and then they have recited by having the words put to them individually in the class. After sometime, he finds that one class has lost its interest in this study. He can _make_ them get the lesson it is true, but he perceives perhaps that it is a weary task to them. Of course they proceed with less alacrity, and consequently with less rapidity and success. He thinks, very justly, that it is highly desirable to secure cheerful, not forced, reluctant efforts from his pupils, and he thinks of trying some new plan. Accordingly he says to them, "Boys, I am going to try a new plan for this class." The mere annunciation of a new plan awakens universal attention. The boys all look up, wondering what it is to be. "Instead of having you study your lessons in your seats, as heretofore, I am going to let you all go together into one corner of the room, and choose some one to read the lesson to you, spelling all the words aloud. You will all listen and endeavor to remember how the difficult ones are spelled. Do you think you can remember?" "Yes, sir," say the boys. Children always think they _can_ do every thing which is proposed to them as a new plan or experiment, though they are very often inclined to think they _cannot_ do what is required of them as a task. "You may have," continues the teacher, "the words read to you once, or twice, just as you please. Only if you have them read but once, you must take a shorter lesson." He pauses and looks round upon the class. Some say, "Once," some, "Twice." "I am willing that you should decide this question. How many are in favor of having shorter lessons, and having them read but once?----How many prefer longer lessons, and having them read twice?" After comparing the numbers, it is decided according to the majority, and the teacher assigns, or allows them to assign a lesson. "Now," he proceeds, "I am not only going to have you study in a different way, but recite in a different way too. You may take your slates with you, and after you have had time to hear the lesson read slowly and carefully twice, I shall come and dictate to you the words aloud, and you will all write them from my dictation. Then I shall examine your slates, and see how many mistakes are made." Any class of boys now would be exceedingly interested in such a proposal as this, especially if the master's ordinary principles of government and instruction had been such, as to interest the pupils in the welfare of the school, and in their own progress in study. They will come together in the place assigned, and listen to the one who is appointed to read the words to them, with every faculty aroused, and their whole souls engrossed in the new duties assigned them. The teacher, too, feels a special interest in his experiment. Whatever else be may be employed about, his eye turns instinctively to this group, with an intensity of interest, which an experienced teacher who has long been in the field, and who has tried experiments of this sort a hundred times, can scarcely conceive. For let it be remembered that I am describing the acts and feelings of a new beginner; of one who is commencing his work, with a feeble and trembling step, and perhaps this is his first step from the beaten path in which he has been accustomed to walk. This new plan is continued, we will suppose, a week, during which time the interest of the pupils continues. They get longer lessons, and make fewer mistakes than they did by the old method. Now in speculating on this subject, the teacher reasons very justly, that it is of no consequence whether the pupil receives his knowledge through the eye, or through the ear; whether they study in solitude or in company. The point is to secure their progress in learning to spell the words of the English language, and as this point is secured far more rapidly and effectually by his new method, the inference is to his mind very obvious, that he has made a great improvement,--one of real and permanent value. Perhaps he will consider it an extraordinary discovery. But the truth is, that in almost all such cases as this, the secret of the success is, not that the teacher has discovered a _better_ method than the ordinary ones, but that he has discovered a _new_ one. The experiment will succeed in producing more successful results, just as long as the novelty of it continues to excite unusual interest and attention in the class, or the thought that it is a plan of the teacher's own invention, leads him to take a peculiar interest in it. And this may be a month, or perhaps a quarter, and precisely the same effects would have been produced, if the whole had been reversed, that is, if the plan of dictation had been the old one, which in process of time had, in this supposed school, lost its interest, and the teacher by his ingenuity and enterprise had discovered and introduced what is now the common mode. "Very well," perhaps my reader will reply, "it is surely something gained to awaken and continue interest in a dull study, for a quarter, or even a month. The experiment is worth something as a pleasant and useful change, even if it is not permanently superior to the other." It is indeed worth something. It is worth a great deal; and the teacher who can devise and execute such plans, _understanding their real place and value, and adhering steadily through them all, to the great object which ought to engage his attention_, is in the almost certain road to success as an instructer. What I wish is, not to discourage such efforts; they ought to be encouraged to the utmost, but to have their real nature and design, and the real secret of their success fully understood, and to have the teacher, above all, take good care that all his new plans are made, not the substitutes for the great objects which he ought to keep steadily in view, but only the means by which he may carry them into more full and complete effect. In the case we are supposing however, we will imagine that the teacher does not do this. He fancies that he has made an important discovery, and begins to inquire whether the _principle_, as he calls it, cannot be applied to some other studies. He goes to philosophizing upon it, and can find many reasons why knowledge received through the ear makes a more ready and lasting impression, than when it comes through the eye. He tries to apply the method to Arithmetic and Geography, and in a short time is forming plans for the complete metamorphosis of his school. When engaged in hearing a recitation, his mind is distracted with his schemes and plans; and instead of devoting his attention fully to the work he may have in hand, his thoughts are wandering continually to new schemes and fancied improvements, which agitate and perplex him, and which elude his efforts to give them a distinct and definite form. He thinks he must however, carry out his _principle_. He thinks of its applicability to a thousand other cases. He revolves, over and over again in his mind, plans for changing the whole arrangement of his school. He is again and again lost in perplexity, his mind is engrossed and distracted, and his present duties are performed with no interest, and consequently with little spirit or success. Now his error is in allowing a new idea, which ought only to have suggested to him an agreeable change for a time, in one of his classes, to swell itself into undue and exaggerated importance, and to draw off his mind from what ought to be the objects of his steady pursuit. Perhaps some teacher of steady intellectual habits and a well balanced mind may think that this picture is fanciful, and that there is little danger that such consequences will ever actually result from such a cause. But far from having exaggerated the results, I am of opinion that I might have gone much farther. There is no doubt that a great many instances have occurred, in which some simple idea like the one I have alluded to, has led the unlucky conceiver of it, in his eager pursuit far deeper into the difficulty, than I have here supposed. He gets into a contention with the school committee, that formidable foe to the projects of all scheming teachers; and it would not be very difficult to find many actual cases, where the individual has, in consequence of some such idea, quietly planned and taken measures to establish some new institution, where he can carry on, unmolested, his plans, and let the world see the full results of his wonderful discoveries. We have in our country a very complete system of literary institutions, so far as external organization will go, and the prospect of success is far more favorable in efforts to carry these institutions into more complete and prosperous operation, than in plans for changing them, or substituting others in their stead. Were it not that such a course would be unjust to individuals, a long and melancholy catalogue might easily be made out, of abortive plans which have sprung up in the minds of young men, in the manner I have described, and which after perhaps temporary success, have resulted in partial or total failure. These failures are of every kind. Some are school-books on a new plan, which succeed in the inventor's hand, chiefly on account of the spirit which carried it into effect; but which in ordinary hands, and under ordinary circumstances, and especially after long continued use, have failed of exhibiting any superiority. Others are institutions, commenced with great zeal by the projectors, and which succeed just as long as that zeal continues. Zeal will make any thing succeed for a time. Others are new plans of instruction or government, generally founded on some good principle carried to an extreme, or made to grow into exaggerated and disproportionate importance. Examples almost innumerable, of these things might be particularized, if it were proper, and it would be found upon examination, that the amount of ingenuity and labor wasted upon such attempts, would have been sufficient, if properly expended, to have elevated very considerably the standard of education, and to have placed existing institutions in a far more prosperous and thriving state than they now exhibit. The reader will perhaps ask, shall we make no efforts at improvement? Must every thing in education go on in a uniform and monotonous manner; and while all else is advancing, shall our cause alone stand still? By no means. It must advance; but let it advance mainly by the industry and fidelity of those who are employed in it; by changes slowly and cautiously made; not by great efforts to reach forward to brilliant discoveries, which will draw off the attention from essential duties, and after leading the projector through perplexities and difficulties without number, end in mortification and failure. Were I to give a few concise and summary directions in regard to this subject to a young teacher, they would be the following: 1. Examine thoroughly the system of public and private schools as now constituted in New England, until you fully understand it, and appreciate its excellences and its completeness; see how fully it provides for the wants of the various classes of our population. By this I mean to refer only to the completeness of the _system_, as a system of organization. I do not refer at all to the internal management of these institutions: this last is, of course, a field for immediate and universal effort at progress and improvement. 2. If after fully understanding this system as it now exists, you are of opinion that something more is necessary; if you think some classes of the community are not fully provided for, or that some of our institutions may be advantageously exchanged for others, whose plan you have in mind; consider whether your age, and experience, and standing, as an instructer are such as to enable you to place confidence in your opinion. I do not mean by this, that a young man may not make a useful discovery; but only that he may be led away by the ardor of early life, to fancy that essential and important, which is really not so. It is important that each one should determine whether this is not the case with himself, if his mind is revolving some new plan. 3. Perhaps you are contemplating only a single new institution, which is to depend for its success, on yourself and some coadjutors whom you have in mind, and whom you well know. If this is the case, consider whether the establishment you are contemplating can be carried on, after you shall have left it, by such men as can ordinarily be obtained. If the plan is founded on some peculiar notions of your own, which would enable you to succeed in it, when others, also interested in such a scheme, would probably fail, consider whether there may not be danger that your plan may be imitated by others, who cannot carry it into successful operation, so that it may be the indirect means of doing injury. A man is, in some degree, responsible for his example, and for the consequences which may indirectly flow from his course, as well as for the immediate results which he produces. The Fellenberg school at Hofwyl has perhaps, by its direct results, been as successful for a given time, as perhaps any other institution in the world; but there is a great offset to the good which it has thus done, to be found in the history of the thousand wretched imitations of it, which have been started only to linger a little while and die, and in which a vast amount of time, and talent, and money have been wasted. Consider the influence you may have upon the other institutions of our country, by attaching yourself to some one under the existing organization. If you take an academy or a private school, constituted and organized like other similar institutions, success in your own, will give you influence over others. A successful teacher of an academy, raises the standard of academic instruction. A college professor, if he brings extraordinary talents to bear upon the regular duties of that office, throws light, universally, upon the whole science of college discipline and instruction. By going, however, to some new field, establishing some new and fanciful institution, you take yourself from such a sphere;--you exert no influence over others, except upon feeble imitators, who fail in their attempts, and bring discredit upon your plans by the awkwardness with which they attempt to adopt them. How much more service to the cause of education, have Professors Cleaveland and Silliman rendered by falling in with the regularly organized institutions of the country, and elevating them, than if in early life, they had given themselves to some magnificent project of an establishment, to which their talents would unquestionably have given temporary success, but which would have taken them away from the community of teachers, and confined the results of their labors to the more immediate effects which their daily duties might produce. 5. Perhaps, however, your plan is not the establishment of some new institution, but the introduction of some new study or pursuit into the one with which you are connected. Before, however, you interrupt the regular plans of your school to make such a change, consider carefully what is the real and appropriate object of your institution. Every thing is not to be done in school. The principles of division of labor apply with peculiar force to this employment; so that you must not only consider whether the branch, which you are now disposed to introduce, is important, but whether it is really such an one as it is, on the whole, best to include among the objects to be pursued in such an institution. Many teachers seem to imagine, that if any thing is in itself important, and especially if it is an important branch of education, the question is settled of its being a proper object of attention in school. But this is very far from being the case. The whole work of education can never be intrusted to the teacher. Much must of course remain in the hands of the parent; it ought so to remain. The object of a school is not to take children out of the parental hands, substituting the watch and guardianship of a stranger, for the natural care of father and mother. Far from it. It is only the association of the children for those purposes which can be more successfully accomplished by association. It is an union for few, specific, and limited objects, for the accomplishment of that part, (and it is comparatively a small part of the general objects of education) which can be most successfully affected by public institutions, and in assemblies of the young. 6. If the branch which you are desiring to introduce appears to you to be an important part of education, and if it seems to you that it can be most successfully attended to in schools, then consider whether the introduction of it, _and of all the other branches having equal claims_, will, or will not give to the common schools too great a complexity. Consider whether it will succeed in the hands of ordinary teachers. Consider whether it will require so much time and effort, as will draw off, in any considerable degree, the attention of the teacher from the more essential parts of his duty. All will admit that it is highly important that every school should be simple in its plan,--as simple as its size and general circumstances will permit, and especially, that the public schools in every town and village of our country should never lose sight of what is, and must be, after all, their great design--_teaching the whole population to read, write, and calculate_. 7. If it is a school-book, which you are wishing to introduce, consider well before you waste your time in preparing it, and your spirits in the vexatious work of getting it through the press, whether it is, _for general use_, so superior to those already published, as to induce teachers to make a change in favor of yours. I have italicised the words _for general use_, for no delusion is more common than for a teacher to suppose, that because a text-book which he has prepared and uses in manuscript, is better for _him_ than any other work which he can obtain, it will therefore be better for _general circulation_. Every man, if he has any originality of mind, has of course some peculiar method of his own, and he can of course prepare a text-book which will be better adapted to this method, than those ordinarily in use. The history of a vast multitude of textbooks, Arithmetics, Geographies, and Grammars, is this. A man of a somewhat ingenious mind, adopts some peculiar mode of instruction in one of these branches, and is quite successful, not because the method has any very peculiar excellence, but simply because he takes a greater interest in it, both on account of its novelty and also from the fact that it is his own invention. He conceives the plan of writing a text-book, to develope and illustrate this method. He hurries through the work. By some means or other, he gets it printed. In due time it is regularly advertised. The Annals of Education gives notice of it; the author sends a few copies to his friends, and that is the end of it. Perhaps a few schools may make a trial of it, and if, for any reason, the teachers who try it are interested in the work, perhaps in their hands, it succeeds. But it does not succeed so well as to attract general attention, and consequently does not get into general circulation. The author loses his time and his patience. The publisher, unless unfortunately it was published on the author's account, loses his paper. And in a few months, scarcely any body knows that such a book ever saw the light. It is in this way, that the great multitude of school-books which are now constantly issuing from the press, take their origin. Far be it from me to discourage the preparation of good school-books. This department of our literature offers a fine field for the efforts of learning and genius. What I contend against, is the endless multiplicity of useless works, hastily conceived and carelessly executed, and which serve no purpose, but to employ uselessly, talents, which if properly applied, might greatly benefit both the community and the possessor. 8. If, however, after mature deliberation you conclude that you have the plan of a school-book which you ought to try to mature and execute, be slow and cautious about it. Remember that so great is now the competition in this branch, nothing but superior excellences will secure the favorable reception of a work. Examine all that your predecessors have done before you. Obtain, whatever may be the trouble and expense, all other text books on the subject, and examine them thoroughly. If you see that you can make a very decided advance on all that has been done, and that the public will probably submit to the inconvenience and expense of a change, to secure the result of your labors, go forward slowly and thoroughly in your work. No matter how much investigation, how much time and labor it may require. The more difficulty you may find, in gaining the eminence, the less likely will you be to be followed by successful competitors. 9. Consider in forming your text-book, not merely the whole subject on which you are to write, but also look extensively and thoroughly at the institutions throughout the country, and consider carefully the character of the teachers by whom you expect it to be used. Sometimes a man publishes a text-book, and when it fails on trial, he says, "It is because they did not know how to use it. The book in itself was good. The whole fault was in the awkwardness and ignorance of the teacher." How absurd! As if to make a good text-book, it was not as necessary to adapt it to teachers as to scholars. _A good text-book which the teachers for whom it was intended did not know how to use!!_ i. e. A good contrivance but entirely unfit for the purpose for which it was intended. 10. Lastly, in every new plan, consider carefully whether its success in your hands, after you have tried it, and found it successful, be owing to its novelty and to your own special interest, or to its own innate and intrinsic superiority. If the former, use it so long as it will last, simply to give variety and interest to your plans. Recommend it in conversation or in other ways to teachers with whom you are acquainted; not as a wonderful discovery, which is going to change the whole science of education, but as one method among others, which may be introduced from time to time, to relieve the monotony of the teacher's labors. In a word do not go away from the established institutions of our country, or deviate from the great objects which are at present, and ought to be pursued by them, without great caution, circumspection, and deliberate inquiry. But within these limits, exercise ingenuity and invention as much as you will. Pursue steadily the great objects which demand the teacher's attention; they are simple and few. Never lose sight of them, nor turn to the right or to the left to follow any ignis fatuus which may endeavor to allure you away; but exercise as much ingenuity and enterprise as you please, in giving variety and interest to the modes by which these objects are pursued. * * * * * If planning and scheming are confined within these limits, and conducted on these principles, the teacher will save all the agitating perplexity and care which will otherwise be his continual portion. He can go forward peaceably and quietly, and while his own success is greatly increased, he may be of essential service to the cause in which he is engaged, by making known his various experiments and plans to others. For this purpose it seems to me highly desirable that every teacher should KEEP A JOURNAL of all his plans. In these should be carefully entered all his experiments: the new methods he adopts; the course he takes in regard to difficulties which may arise; and any interesting incidents which may occur, which it would be useful for him to refer to, at some future time. These or the most interesting of them should be made known to other teachers. This may be done in several ways. (1.) By publishing them in periodicals devoted to education. Such contributions, furnished by judicious men, would be among the most valuable articles in such a work. They would be far more valuable than any general speculations, however well conceived or expressed. (2.) In news-papers intended for general circulation. There are very few editors whose papers circulate in families, who would not gladly receive articles of this kind, to fill a teacher's department in their columns. If properly written they would be read with interest and profit by multitudes of parents, and would throw much light on family government and instruction. (3.) By reading them in teacher's meetings. If half a dozen teachers who are associated in the same vicinity, would meet once a fortnight, simply to hear each other's journals, they would be amply repaid for their time and labor. Teacher's meetings will be interesting and useful, when those who come forward in them, will give up the prevailing practice of delivering orations, and come down at once to the scenes and to the business of the school-room. There is one topic connected with the subject of this chapter, which deserves a few paragraphs. I refer to the rights of the Committee, or the Trustees, or Patrons, in the control of the school. The right to such control, when claimed at all, is usually claimed in reference to the teacher's new plans, which renders it proper to allude to the subject here; and it ought not to be omitted, for a great many cases occur, in which teachers have difficulties with the trustees or committee of their school. Sometimes these difficulties have amounted to an open rupture; at other times, only to a slight and temporary misunderstanding, arising from what the teacher calls an unwise and unwarrantable interference on the part of the committee, or the trustees, in the arrangements of the school. Difficulties of some sort very often arise. In fact, a right understanding of this subject, is, in most cases, absolutely essential to the harmony and co-operation of the teacher, and the representatives of his patrons. There are then, it must be recollected, three different parties connected with every establishment for education; the parents of the scholars, the teacher, and the pupils themselves. Sometimes, as for example, in a common private school, the parents are not organized, and whatever influence they exert, they must exert in their individual capacity. At other times, as in a common district or town school, they are by law organized, and the school committee chosen for this purpose, are their legal representatives. In other instances, a board of trustees are constituted by the appointment of the founders of the institution, or by the legislature of a state, to whom is committed the oversight of its concerns, and who are consequently the representatives of the founders and patrons of the school. There are differences between these various modes of organization which I shall not now stop to examine, as it will be sufficiently correct for my purpose to consider them all as only various ways of organizing the _employers_, in the contract, by which the teacher is employed. The teacher is the agent; the patrons, represented in these several ways, are the principals. When, therefore, in the following paragraphs, I use the word _employers_, I mean to be understood to speak of the committee, or the trustees, or the visiters, or the parents themselves, as the case, in each particular institution, may be; that is, the persons, for whose purpose, and at whose expense, the institution is maintained; or their representatives. Now there is a very reasonable, and almost universally established rule, which teachers are very frequently prone to forget, viz., _the employed ought always to be responsible to the employers, and to be under their direction_. So obviously reasonable is this rule, and in fact, so absolutely indispensable in the transaction of all the business of life, that it would be idle to attempt to establish and illustrate it here. It has, however, limitations, and it is applicable to a much greater extent, in some departments of human labor, than in others. It is _applicable_ to the business of teaching, and though, I confess, that it is somewhat less absolute and imperious here, still, it is obligatory, I believe, to far greater extent, than teachers have been generally willing to admit. A young lady, I will imagine, wishes to introduce the study of Botany into her school. The parents or the committee object; they say, that they wish the children to confine their attention exclusively to the elementary branches of education. "It will do them no good," says the chairman of the committee, "to learn by heart some dozen or two of learned names. We want them to read well, to write well, and to calculate well, and not to waste their time in studying about pistils and stamens and nonsense." Now what is the duty of the teacher in such a case? Why, very plainly her duty is the same as that of the Governor of a state, where the people, through their representatives, regularly chosen, negative a proposal, which he considers calculated to promote the public good. It is his duty to submit to the public will, and though he may properly do all in his power, to present the subject to his employers in such a light, as to lead them to regard it as he does, he must still, until they do so regard it, bow to their authority; and every magistrate, who takes an enlarged and comprehensive view of his duties as the executive of a republican community, will do this without any humiliating feelings of submission to unauthorized interference with his plans. He will, on the other hand, enjoy the satisfaction of feeling that he confines himself to his proper sphere, and leave to others, the full possession of rights which properly pertain to them. It is so with every case, where the relation of employer and employed subsists. You engage a carpenter to erect a house for you, and you present your plan; instead of going to work and executing your orders according to your wishes, he goes to criticising and condemning it: he finds fault with this, and ridicules that, and tells you, you ought to make such and such an alteration in it. It is perfectly right for him to give his opinion, in the tone and spirit of _recommendation or suggestion_, with a distinct understanding that with his employer rests the power and the right to decide. But how many teachers take possession of their school room as though it was an empire in which they are supreme, who resist every interference of their employers, as they would an attack upon their personal freedom, and who feel, that in regard to every thing connected with school, they have really no actual responsibility. In most cases, the employers, knowing how sensitive teachers very frequently are on this point, acquiesce in it, and leave them to themselves. Whenever in any case, they think that the state of the school requires their interference, they come cautiously and fearfully to the teacher, as if they were encroaching upon his rights, instead of advancing with the confidence and directness with which employers have always a right to approach the employed; and the teacher, with the view he has insensibly taken of the subject, being perhaps confirmed by the tone and manner which his employers use, makes the conversation, quite as often, an occasion of resentment and offence as of improvement. He is silent, perhaps, but in his heart he accuses his committee or his trustees of improper interference in _his_ concerns, as though it was no part of _their_ business to look after work which is going forward for their advantage, and for which they pay. Perhaps some individuals, who have had some collision with their trustees or committee, will ask me if I mean, that a teacher ought to be entirely and immediately under the supervision and control of the trustees, just as a mechanic is when employed by another man. By no means. There are various circumstances connected with the nature of this employment; the impossibility of the employers fully understanding it in all its details; and the character and the standing of the teacher himself, which always will, in matter of fact, prevent this. The employers always will, in a great many respects, place more confidence in the teacher and in his views, than they will in their own. But still, the ultimate power is theirs. Even if they err,--if they wish to have a course pursued which is manifestly inexpedient and wrong, _they still have a right to decide_. It is their work: it is going on at their instance, and at their expense, and the power of ultimate decision, on all disputed questions, must, from the very nature of the case, rest with them. The teacher may, it is true, have his option either to comply with their wishes or to seek employment in another sphere; but while he remains in the employ of any persons, whether in teaching or in any other service, he is bound to yield to the wishes of his employers, when they insist upon it, and to submit pleasantly to their direction, when they shall claim their undoubted right to direct. This is to be done, it must be remembered, when they are wrong, as well as when they are right. The obligation of the teacher is not founded upon _the superior wisdom_ of his employers, in reference to the business for which they have engaged him, for they are very probably his inferiors in this respect; _but upon their right as employers_, to determine _how their own work shall be done_. A gardener, we will suppose, is engaged by a gentleman to lay out his grounds. The gardener goes to work, and after a few hours the gentleman comes out to see how he goes on, and to give directions. He proposes something which the gardener, who, to make the case stronger, we will suppose knows better that the proprietor of the grounds, considers ridiculous and absurd; nay, we will suppose it is ridiculous and absurd. Now what can the gardener do? There are, obviously, two courses. He can say to the proprietor, after a vain attempt to convince him he is wrong, "Well, sir, I will do just as you say. The grounds are yours: I have no interest in it, or responsibility, except to accomplish your wishes." This would be right. Or he might say, "Sir, you have a right to direct upon your own grounds, and I do not wish to interfere with your plans; but I must ask you to obtain another gardener. I have a reputation at stake, and this work, if I do it even at your direction, will be considered as a specimen of my taste and of my planning, so that I must in justice to myself, decline remaining in your employment." This too, would be right, though probably, both in the business of gardening and of teaching, the case ought to be a strong one, to render it expedient. But it would not be right for him, after his employer should have gone away, to say to himself, with a feeling of resentment at the imaginary _interference_; "I shall not follow any such directions; I understand my own trade and shall receive no instructions in it from him;" and then disobeying all directions, go on and do the work contrary to the orders of his employer, who alone has a right to decide. And yet a great many teachers take a course as absurd and unjustifiable as this would be. Whenever the parents, or the committee, or the trustees express, however mildly and properly, their wishes in regard to the manner in which they desire to have their own work performed, their pride is at once aroused. They seem to feel it an indignity, to act in any other way, than just in accordance with their own will and pleasure; and they absolutely refuse to comply, resenting the interference as an insult. Or else, if they apparently yield, it is with mere cold civility, and entirely without any honest desires to carry the wishes thus expressed, into actual effect. Parents may, indeed, often misjudge. A good teacher will, however, soon secure their confidence, and they will acquiesce in his opinion. But they ought to be watchful; and the teacher ought to feel and acknowledge their authority, on all questions connected with the education of their children. They have originally entire power in regard to the course which is to be pursued with them. Providence has made the parents responsible and wholly responsible for the manner in which their children are prepared for the duties of this life, and it is interesting to observe, how very cautious the laws of society are, about interfering with the parent's wishes, in regard to the education of the child. There are many cases, in which enlightened governments might make arrangements which would be better than those made by the parents, if they are left to themselves. But they will not do it; they ought not to do it. God has placed the responsibility in the hands of the father and mother, and unless the manner in which it is exercised is calculated to endanger or to injure the community, there can rightfully be no interference except that of argument and persuasion. It ought also to be considered that upon the parents will come the consequences of the good or bad education of their children, and not upon the teacher, and consequently it is right that they should direct. The teacher remains, perhaps, a few months with his charge, and then goes to other places, and perhaps hears of them no more. He has thus very little at stake. The parent has every thing at stake, and it is manifestly unjust to give one man the power of deciding, while he escapes all the consequences of his mistakes, if he makes any, and to take away all the _power_ from those, upon whose heads, all the suffering, which will follow an abuse of the power, must descend. CHAPTER VIII. REPORTS OF CASES. There is perhaps no way, by which a writer can more effectually explain his views on the subject of education, than by presenting a great variety of actual cases, whether real or imaginary, and describing particularly the course of treatment he would recommend in each. This method of communicating knowledge is very extensively resorted to in the medical profession, where writers detail particular cases, and report the symptoms and the treatment for each succeeding day, so that the reader may almost fancy himself actually a visiter at the sick bed, and the nature and effects of the various prescriptions become fixed in the mind, with almost as much distinctness and permanency as actual experience would give. This principle has been kept in view, the reader may perhaps think, too closely, in all the chapters of this volume; almost every point brought up, having been illustrated by anecdotes and narratives. I propose, however, devoting one chapter now, to presenting a number of miscellaneous cases, without any attempt to arrange them. Sometimes the case will be merely stated, the reader being left to draw the inference; at others, such remarks will be added as the case suggests. All will however be intended to answer some useful purpose, either to exhibit good or bad management and its consequences, or to bring to view some trait of human nature, as it exhibits itself in children, which it may be desirable for the teacher to know. Let it be understood, however, that these cases are not selected with reference to their being strange, or extraordinary. They are rather chosen because they are common, i. e. they, or cases similar, will be constantly occurring to the teacher, and reading such a chapter will be the best substitute for experience which the teacher can have. Some are descriptions of literary exercises or plans which the reader can adopt in classes, or with a whole school; others are cases of discipline,--good or bad management, which the teacher can imitate or avoid. The stories are from various sources, and are the results of the experience of several individuals. 1. HATS AND BONNETS. The master of a district school was accidentally looking out of the window one day, and he saw one of the boys throwing stones at a hat, which was put up for that purpose upon the fence. He said nothing about it at the time, but made a memorandum of the occurrence, that he might bring it before the school, at the proper time. When the hour, set apart for attending to the general business of the school, had arrived, and all were still, he said, "I saw one of the boys throwing stones at a hat to-day, did he do right or wrong?" There were one or two faint murmurs which sounded like "_Wrong_," but the boys generally made no answer. "Perhaps it depends a little upon the question whose hat it was. Do you think it does depend upon that?" "Yes sir." "Well, suppose then it was not his own hat, and he was throwing stones at it without the owner's consent, would it be plain in that case, whether he was doing right or wrong?" "Yes sir; wrong," was the universal reply. "Suppose it was his own hat, would he have been right? Has a boy a right to do what he pleases with his own hat?" "Yes sir," "Yes sir," "No sir," "No sir," answered the boys confusedly. "I do not know whose hat it was. If the boy who did it is willing to rise and tell me, it will help us to decide this question." The boy knowing that a severe punishment was not in such a case to be anticipated, and in fact, apparently pleased with the idea of exonerating himself from the blame of wilfully injuring the property of another, rose and said, "I suppose it was I, sir, who did it, and it was my own hat?" "Well," said the master, "I am glad you are willing to tell frankly how it was; but let us look at this case. There are two senses in which a hat may be said to belong to any person. It may belong to him because he bought it and paid for it, or it may belong to him because it fits him, and he wears it. In other words a person may have a hat, as his property, or he may have it only as a part of his dress. Now you see, that according to the first of these senses, all the hats in this school, belong to your fathers. There is not in fact a single boy in this school who has a hat of his own." The boys laughed. "Is not this the fact?" "Yes sir." "It certainly is so, though I suppose James did not consider it. Your fathers bought your hats. They worked for them, and paid for them. You are only the wearers, and consequently every generous boy, and in fact every honest boy, will be careful of the property which is intrusted to him, but which strictly speaking is not his own." 2. MISTAKES. A wide difference must always be made between mistakes arising from carelessness, and those resulting from circumstances beyond control; such as want of sufficient data, &c. The former are always censurable; the latter never; for they may be the result of correct reasoning from insufficient data, and it is the reasoning only for which the child is responsible. "What do you suppose a prophet is?" said an instructer to a class of little boys. The word occurred in their reading lesson. The scholars all hesitated; at last one ventured to reply: "If a man should sell a yoke of oxen, and get more for them than they are worth, he would be a prophet." "Yes," said the instructer, "that is right, that is one kind of _profit_, but this is another and a little different," and he proceeded to explain the word, and the difference of the spelling. This child had, without doubt, heard of some transaction of the kind which he described, and had observed that the word _profit_ was applied to it. Now the care which he had exercised in attending to it at the time, and remembering it when the same word, (for the difference in the spelling he of course knew nothing about,) occurred again, was really commendable. The fact, which is a mere accident, that we affix very different significations to the same sound, was unknown. The fault, if anywhere, was in the language and not in him; for he reasoned correctly from the data he possessed, and he deserved credit for it. 3. TARDINESS. "My duty to this school," said a teacher to his pupils, "demands, as I suppose you all admit, that I should require you all to be here punctually at the time appointed for the commencement of the school. I have done nothing on this subject yet, for I wished to see whether you would not come early, on principle. I wish now however to inquire in regard to this subject, and to ascertain how many have been tardy, and to consider what must be done hereafter." He made the inquiries and ascertained pretty nearly how many had been tardy, and how often within a week. The number was found to be so great, that the scholars admitted that something ought to be done. "What shall I do?" asked he. "Can any one propose a plan which will remedy the difficulty?" There was no answer. [Transcriber's Note: The footnote marker for the following footnote is missing.] [Footnote D: The above, and one or two of the succeeding articles have been before published, in periodicals.] "The easiest and pleasantest way to secure punctuality, is for the scholars to come early of their own accord, upon principle. It is evident from the reports, that many of you do so; but some do not. Now there is no other plan which will not be attended with very serious difficulty, but I am willing to adopt the one which will be pleasantest to yourselves, if it will be likely to accomplish the object. Has any one any plan to propose." There was a pause. "It would evidently," continued the teacher, "be the easiest for me to leave this subject, and do nothing about it. It is of no personal consequence to me, whether you come early or not, but as long as I hold this office, I must be faithful, and I have no doubt the school committee, if they knew how many of you were tardy, would think I ought to do something to diminish the evil. "The best plan I can think of, is that all who are tardy should lose their recess." The boys looked rather anxiously at one another, but continued silent. "There is a great objection to this plan from the fact that a boy is sometimes necessarily absent, and by this rule he will lose his recess with the rest, so that the innocent will be punished with the guilty." "I should think, sir," said William, "that those who are _necessarily_ tardy, might be excused." "Yes, I should be very glad to excuse them, if I could find out who they are." The boys seemed to be surprised at this remark, as if they thought it would not be a difficult matter to decide. "How can I tell?" asked the master. "You can hear their excuses, and then decide." "Yes," said the teacher, "but here are fifteen or twenty boys tardy this morning; now how long would it take me to hear their excuses, and understand each case thoroughly, so that I could really tell whether they were tardy from good reasons or not?" No answer. "Should you not think it would take a minute apiece?" "Yes sir." "It would undoubtedly, and even then I could not in many cases tell. It would take fifteen minutes at least. I cannot do this in school-hours, for I have not time, and if I do it in recess, it will consume the whole of every recess. Now I need the rest of a recess, as well as you, and it does not seem to me to be just that I should lose the whole of mine, every day, and spend it in a most unpleasant business, when I take pains, myself, to come punctually every morning. Would it be just?" "No sir." "I think it would be less unjust to deprive all of their recess who are tardy, for then the loss of a recess by a boy who had not been to blame, would not be very common, and the evil would be divided among the whole, but in the plan of my hearing the excuses, it would all come upon one." After a short pause one of the boys said that they might be required to bring written excuses. "Yes that is another plan," said the teacher, "but there are objections to it. Can any of you think what they are? I suppose you have all been, either at this school, or at some other, required to bring written excuses, so that you have seen the plan tried; now have you never noticed any objection to it?" One boy said that it gave the parents a great deal of trouble at home. "Yes," said the teacher, "this is a great objection; it is often very inconvenient to write. But that is not the greatest difficulty; can any of you think of any other?" There was a pause. "Do you think that these written excuses are, after all, a fair test of the real reasons for tardiness? I understand that sometimes boys will tease their fathers or mothers for an excuse, when they do not deserve it, 'Yes sir,' and sometimes they will loiter about when sent of an errand before school, knowing that they can get a written excuse when they might easily have been punctual." "Yes sir, Yes sir," said the boys. "Well, now, if we adopt this plan, some unprincipled boy would always contrive to have an excuse, whether necessarily tardy or not; and besides, each parent would have a different principle and a different opinion as to what was a reasonable excuse, so that there would be no uniformity, and consequently no justice in the operation of the system." The boys admitted the truth of this, and as no other plan was presented, the rule was adopted of requiring all those who were tardy, to remain in their seats during the recess, whether they were necessarily tardy or not. The plan very soon diminished the number of loiterers. 4. HELEN'S LESSON. The possibility of being inflexibly firm in measures, and at the same time gentle and mild in manners and language, is happily illustrated in the following description, which is based on an incident narrated by Mrs. Sherwood. "Mrs. M. had observed even during the few days that Helen had been under her care, that she was totally unaccustomed to habits of diligence and application. After making all due allowance for long indulged habits of indolence and inattention, she one morning assigned an easy lesson to her pupil, informing her at the same time, that she should hear it immediately before dinner. Helen made no objections to the plan, but she silently resolved not to perform the required task. Being in some measure a stranger, she thought her aunt would not insist upon perfect obedience, and besides in her estimation, she was too old to be treated like a child. "During the whole morning, Helen exerted herself to be mild and obliging; her conduct towards her aunt was uncommonly affectionate. By these, and various other artifices, she endeavored to gain her first victory. Meanwhile, Mrs. M. quietly pursued her various avocations, without apparently noticing Helen's conduct. At length dinner hour arrived; the lesson was called for, and found unprepared. Mrs. M. told Helen she was sorry she had not got the lesson, and went on to explain one or two sentences more fully, and concluded, by saying that she hoped it would be learned before tea-time. "Helen, finding she was not to come to the table, began to be a little alarmed. She was acquainted in some measure with the character of her aunt, still she hoped to be allowed to partake of the dessert as she had been accustomed to on similar occasions at home, and soon regained her wonted composure. But the dinner cloth was removed, and there sat Helen, suffering not a little from hunger; still she would not complain; she meant to convince her aunt that she was not moved by trifles. "A walk had been proposed for the afternoon, and as the hour drew near, Helen made preparations to accompany the party. Mrs. M. reminded her of her lesson, but she just noticed the remark by a toss of the head, and was soon in the green fields, apparently the gayest of the gay. After her return from the excursion, she complained of a head-ache which in fact she had; she threw herself languidly on the sofa, sighed deeply, and took up her History. "Tea was now on the table, and most tempting looked the white loaf. Mrs. M. again heard the pupil recite, but was sorry to find the lesson still imperfectly prepared. She left her, saying she thought an half hour's study would conquer all the difficulties she found in the lesson. "During all this time, Mrs. M. appeared so perfectly calm, composed, and even kind, and so regardless of sighs and doleful exclamations, that Helen entirely lost her equanimity and let her tears flow freely and abundantly. Her mother was always moved by her tears, and would not her aunt relent? No. Mrs. M. quietly performed the duties of the table, and ordered the tea-equipage to be removed. This latter movement brought Helen to reflection. It is useless to resist, thought she, indeed why should I wish to. Nothing too much has been required of me. How ridiculous I have made myself appear, in the eyes of my aunt, and even of the domestics. "In less than an hour, she had the satisfaction of reciting her lesson perfectly; her aunt made no comments on the occasion, but assigned her the next lesson, and went on sewing. Helen did not expect this; she had anticipated a refreshing cup of tea, after the long siege. She had expected that even something nicer than usual would be necessary to compensate her for past sufferings. At length, worn out by long continued watching and fasting, she went to the closet, provided herself with a cracker, and retired to bed to muse deliberately on the strange character of her aunt. "Teachers not unfrequently threaten their pupils with some proper punishment, but when obliged to put the threat into execution, contrive in some indirect way, to abate its rigor and thus destroy all its effects. For example, a mother was in the habit, when her little boy ran beyond his proscribed play-ground, of putting him into solitary confinement. On such occasions, she was very careful to have some amusing book, or diverting plaything in a conspicuous part of the room, and not unfrequently a piece of gingerbread was given to solace the runaway. The mother thought it very strange her little boy should so often transgress, when he knew what to expect from such a course of conduct. The boy was wiser than the mother; he knew perfectly well how to manage. He could play with the boys beyond the garden gate, and if detected, to be sure he was obliged to spend a quiet hour in the pleasant parlor. But this was not intolerable as long as he could expect a paper of sugar-plums, a cake, or at least something amply to compensate him for the loss of a game at marbles." 5. COMPLAINTS OF LONG LESSONS. A college officer assigned lessons which the idle and ignorant members of the class thought too long. They murmured for a time, and at last openly complained. The other members of the class could say nothing in behalf of the professor, awed by the greatest of all fears to a collegian, the fear of being called a "_fisher_," or a "_blueskin_." The professor paid no attention to the petitions and complaints which were poured in upon him, and which, though originated by the idle, all were compelled to vote for. He coldly, and with uncompromising dignity, went on the excitement in the class increased, and what is called a college rebellion, with all its disastrous consequences to the infatuated rebels, ensued. Another professor had the dexterity to manage in a different way. After hearing that there was dissatisfaction, he brought up the subject as follows:-- "I understand, gentlemen, that you consider your lessons too long. Perhaps I have overrated the abilities of the class, but I have not intended to assign you more than you can accomplish. I feel no other interest in the subject, than the pride and pleasure it would give me, to have my class stand high, in respect to the amount of ground it has gone over, when you come to examination. I propose, therefore, that you appoint a committee in whose abilities and judgment you can confide, and let them examine this subject and report. They might ascertain how much other classes have done, and how much is expedient for this class to attempt; and then, by estimating the number of recitations assigned to this study, they can easily determine what should be the length of the lessons." The plan was adopted, and the report put an end to the difficulty. 6. ENGLISH COMPOSITION. The great prevailing fault of writers in this country, is an affectation of eloquence. It is almost universally the fashion to aim not at striking thoughts, simply and clearly expressed, but at splendid language, glowing imagery, and magnificent periods. It arises, perhaps, from the fact that public speaking is the almost universal object of ambition, and consequently, both at school and at college, nothing is thought of but oratory. Vain attempts at oratory, result in nine cases out of ten, in grandiloquence and empty verbiage;--common thoughts expressed in pompous periods. The teacher should guard against this, and assign to children such subjects as are within the field of childish observation. A little skill on his part will soon determine the question which kind of writing shall prevail in his school. The following specimens, both written with some skill, will illustrate the two kinds of writing alluded to. Both were written by pupils of the same age, twelve; one a boy, the other a girl. The subjects were assigned by the teacher. I need not say that the following was the writer's first attempt at composition, and that it is printed without alteration. THE PAINS OF A SAILOR'S LIFE. The joyful sailor embarks on board of his ship, the sails are spread to catch the playful gale, swift as an arrow he cuts the rolling wave. A few days thus sporting on the briny wave, when suddenly the sky is overspread with clouds, the rain descends in torrents, the sails are lowered, the gale begins, the vessel is carried with great velocity, and the shrouds unable to support the tottering mast, gives way to the furious tempest; the vessel is drove among the rocks, is sprung aleak, the sailor works at the pumps, till, faint and weary, is heard from below, six feet of water in the hold, the boats are got ready, but before they are into them, the vessel dashed against a reef of rocks, some in despair throw themselves into the sea, others get on the rocks without any clothes or provisions, and linger a few days, perhaps weeks or months, living on shell fish or perhaps taken up by some ship. Others get on pieces of the wreck, and perhaps be cast on some foreign country, where perhaps he may be taken by the natives, and sold into slavery where he never more returns. In regard to the following specimen, it should be stated that when the subject was assigned, the pupil was directed to see how precisely she could imitate the language and conversation which two little children really lost in the woods would use. While writing, therefore, her mind was in pursuit of the natural, and the simple, not of the eloquent. TWO CHILDREN LOST IN THE WOODS. _Emily._ Look here! see how many berries I've got. I don't believe you've got so many. _Charles._ Yes, I'm sure I have. My basket's most full; and if we hurry, we shall get ever so many before we go home. So pick away as fast as you can, Emily. _Emily._ There mine is full. Now we'll go and find some flowers for mother. You know somebody told us there were some red ones, close to that rock. _Charles._ Well, so we will. We'll leave our baskets here, and come back and get them. _Emily._ But if we can't find our way back, what shall we do? _Charles._ Poh! I can find the way back. I only want a quarter to seven years old, and I shan't lose myself, I know. _Emily._ Well! we've got flowers enough, and now I'm tired and want to go home. _Charles._ I don't, but if you are tired we'll go and find our baskets. _Emily._ Where do you think they are? We've been looking a great while for them. I know we are lost, for when we went after the flowers we only turned once, and coming back, we have turned three times. _Charles._ Have we? Well never mind, I guess we shall find them. _Emily._ I'm afraid we shan't. Do let's run _Charles._ Well so do. Oh, Emily! here's a brook, and I am sure we didn't pass any brook, going. _Emily._ Oh, dear! we must be lost. Hark! Charles! didn't you hear that dreadful noise just now? Wasn't it a bear? _Charles._ Poh! I should love to see a bear here. I guess if he should come near me, I would give him one good slap that would make him feel pretty bad. I could kill him at the first hit. _Emily._ I should like to see you taking hold of a bear. Why didn't you know bears were stronger than men? But only see how dark it grows; we shan't see Ma' to-night, I'm afraid. _Charles._ So am I: do let's run some more. _Emily._ O Charles, do you believe we shall ever find the way out of this dreadful long wood? _Charles._ Let's scream, and see if somebody wont come. _Emily._ Well, (screaming) Ma'! Ma'! _Charles._ (screaming also) Pa'! Pa'! _Emily._ Oh, dear! there's the sun setting. It will be dreadfully dark by and by, won't it? We have given enough for a specimen. The composition though faulty in many respects, illustrates the point we had in view. 7. INSINCERE CONFESSION. An assistant in a school informed the Principal that she had some difficulty in preserving order in a certain class, composed of small children. The Principal accordingly went into the class, and something like the following dialogue ensued. "Your teacher informs me," said the Principal, "that there is not perfect order in this class. Now if you are satisfied that there has not been order, and wish to help me discover and correct the fault, we can do it very easily. If, on the other hand, you do not wish to co-operate with me, it will be a little more difficult for me to correct it, and I must take a different course. Now I wish to know, at the outset, whether you do or do not wish to help me." A faint "Yes sir," was murmured through the class. "I do not wish you to assist me, unless you really and honestly desire it yourselves; and if you undertake to do it, you must do it honestly. The first thing which will be necessary, will be an open and thorough exposure of all which has been wrong, and this you know will be unpleasant. But I will put the question to vote, by asking how many are willing that I should know, entirely and fully, all that they have done in this class, that has been wrong." Very nearly all the hands were raised at once, promptly, and the others were gradually brought up, though with more or less of hesitation. "Are you willing, not only to tell me yourselves what you have done, but also, in case any one has forgotten something which she has done, that others should tell me of it?" The hands were all raised. After obtaining thus from the class a distinct and universal expression of willingness that all the facts should be made known, the Principal called upon all those who had any thing to state, to raise their hands, and those who raised them, had opportunity to say what they wished. A great number of very trifling incidents were mentioned, such as could not have produced any difficulty in the class, and consequently could not have been the real instances of disorder alluded to. Or at least, it was evident if they were, that in the statement, they must have been so palliated and softened, that a really honest confession had not been made. This result might in such a case, have been expected. Such is human nature, that in nine cases out of ten, unless such a result had been particularly guarded against, it would have inevitably followed. Not only will such a result follow in individual cases like this, but unless the teacher watches and guards against it, it will grow into a habit. I mean boys will get a sort of an idea that it is a fine thing to confess their faults, and by a show of humility and frankness will deceive their teacher, and perhaps themselves, by a sort of acknowledgement, which in fact exposes nothing of the guilt which the transgressor professes to expose. A great many cases occur, where teachers are pleased with the confession of faults, and scholars perceive it, and the latter get into the habit of coming to the teacher, when they have done something which they think may get them into difficulty, and make a sort of half confession, which, by bringing forward every palliating circumstance, and suppressing every thing of different character, keeps entirely out of view all the real guilt of the transgression. The criminal is praised by the teacher for the frankness and honesty of the confession, and his fault is freely forgiven. He goes away therefore well satisfied with himself, when in fact he has been only submitting to a little mortification, voluntarily, to avoid the danger of a greater; much in the same spirit with that which leads a man to receive the small-pox by inoculation, to avoid the danger of taking it in the natural way. The teacher who accustoms his pupils to confess their faults, voluntarily, ought to guard carefully against this danger. When such a case as the one just described occurs, it will afford a favorable opportunity of showing distinctly to pupils the difference between an honest and an hypocritical confession. In this instance; the teacher proceeded thus; "Now I wish to ask you one more question, which I wish you all to answer by your votes, honestly. It is this. Do you think that the real disorder which has been in this class, that is, the real cases which you referred to, when you stated to me, that you thought that the class was not in good order, have been now really exposed, so that I honestly and fully understand the case? How many suppose so?" Not a single hand was raised. "How many of you think, and are willing to avow your opinion, that I have _not_ been fully informed of the case?" A large proportion held up their hands. "Now it seems the class pretended to be willing that I should know all the affair. You pretended to be willing to tell me the whole, but when I call upon you for the information, instead of telling me honestly, you attempt to amuse me by little trifles, which in reality made no disturbance, and you omit the things which you know were the real objects of my inquiries. Am I right in my supposition?" They were silent. After a moment's pause, one perhaps raised her hand, and began now to confess something, which she had before concealed. The teacher however interrupted her, by saying, "I do not wish to have the confession made now. I gave you all time to do that, and now I should rather not hear any more about the disorder. I gave an opportunity to have it acknowledged, but it was not honestly improved, and now I should rather not hear. I shall probably never know. "I wished to see whether this class would be honest,--really honest, or whether they would have the insincerity to pretend to be confessing, when they were not doing so honestly, so as to get the credit of being frank and sincere, when in reality they are not so. Now am I not compelled to conclude that this latter is the case?" Such an example will make a deep and lasting impression. It will show that the teacher is upon his guard; and there are very few, so hardened in deception, that they would not wish that they had been really sincere, rather than rest under such an imputation. 8. COURT. A pupil, quite young, (says a teacher,) came to me one day with a complaint that one of her companions had got her seat. There had been some changes in the seats by my permission, and probably from some inconsistency in the promises which I had made, there were two claimants for the same desk. The complainant came to me, and appealed to my recollection of the circumstance. "I do not recollect anything about it," said I. "Why! Mr. B." replied she, with astonishment. "No," said I, "you forget that I have, every day, arrangements, almost without number, of such a kind to make, and as soon as I have made one, I immediately forget all about it." "Why, don't you remember that you got me a new baize?" "No; I ordered a dozen new baizes at that time, but I do not remember who they were for." There was a pause; the disappointed complainants seemed not to know what to do. "I will tell you what to do. Bring the case into court and I will try it, regularly." "Why, Mr. B.! I do not like to do any thing like that, about it; besides, I do not know how to write an indictment." "Oh!" I replied, "they will like to have a good trial. It will make a new sort of case. All our cases thus far have been for _offences_, that is what they call criminal cases, and this will be only an examination of the conflicting claims of two individuals to the same property, and it will excite a good deal of interest. I think you had better bring it into court." She went slowly and thoughtfully to her seat, and presently returned with an indictment. "Mr. B. is this right?" It was as follows:-- I accuse Miss A. B. of coming to take away my seat, the one Mr. B. gave me. Witnesses. { C. D. { E. T. "Why, ---- ---- yes,--that will do; and yet it is not exactly right. You see this is what they call a civil case." "I don't think it is very _civil_." "No, I don't mean it was civil to take your seat. But this is not a case where a person is prosecuted for having done anything wrong." The plaintiff looked a little perplexed, as if she could not understand how it could be otherwise than wrong, for a girl to usurp her seat. "I mean, you do not bring it into court, as a case of wrong. You do not want her to be punished; do you?" "No; I only want her to give me up my seat; I don't want her to be punished." "Well, then, you see, that although she may have done wrong to take your seat, it is not in that point of view, that you bring it into court. It is a question about the right of property, and the lawyers call such cases, _civil_ cases, to distinguish them from cases where persons are tried for the purpose of being punished for doing wrong. These are called criminal cases." The aggrieved party still looked perplexed. "Well, Mr. B." she continued, "what shall I do? How shall I write it? I cannot say anything about _civil_, in it, can I?" A form was given her, which would be proper for the purpose, and the case was brought forward, and the evidence on both sides examined. The irritation of the quarrel was soon dissipated, in the amusement of a semi-serious trial, and both parties good humoredly acquiesced in the decision. 9. TEACHERS' PERSONAL CHARACTER. Much has been said within a few years, by writers in the subject of education, in this country, on the desirableness of raising the business of teaching to the rank of a learned profession. There is but one way of doing this, and that is raising the personal characters and attainments of teachers themselves. Whether an employment is elevated or otherwise in public estimation, depends altogether on the associations connected with it in the public mind; and these depend altogether on the characters of the individuals who are engaged in it. Franklin, by the simple fact that he was a printer himself, has done more towards giving dignity and respectability to the employment of printing, than a hundred orations on the intrinsic excellence of the art. In fact all mechanical employments have, within a few years risen in rank, in this country, not through the influence of efforts to impress the community directly with a sense of their importance, but simply because mechanics themselves have risen in intellectual and moral character. In the same manner the employment of the teacher will be raised most effectually in the estimation of the public, not by the individual who writes the most eloquent oration on the intrinsic dignity of the art, but by the one who goes forward most successfully in the exercise of it, and who by his general attainments, and public character, stands out most fully to the view of the public, as a well informed, liberal minded, and useful man. If this is so, and it cannot well be denied, it furnishes every teacher a strong motive to exertion, for the improvement of his own personal character. But there is a stronger motive still, in the results which flow directly to himself, from such efforts. No man ought to engage in any business which, as mere business, will engross all his time and attention. The Creator has bestowed upon every one a mind, upon the cultivation of which, our rank among intelligent beings, our happiness, our moral and intellectual power, every thing valuable to us, depend. And after all the cultivation which we can bestow, in this life, upon this mysterious principle, it will still be in embryo. The progress which it is capable of making is entirely indefinite. If by ten years of cultivation, we can secure a certain degree of knowledge and power, by ten more, we can double, or more than double it, and every succeeding year of effort, is attended with equal success. There is no point of attainment where we must stop, or beyond which effort will bring in a less valuable return. Look at that teacher, and consider for a moment, his condition. He began to teach when he was twenty years of age, and now he is forty. Between the years of fifteen and twenty he made a vigorous effort to acquire such an education as would fit him for these duties. He succeeded, and by these efforts he raised himself from being a mere laborer, receiving for his daily toil a mere daily subsistence, to the respectability and the comforts of an intellectual pursuit. But this change once produced, he stops short in his progress. Once seated in his desk, he is satisfied, and for twenty years he has been going through the same routine, without any effort to advance or to improve. He does not reflect that the same efforts, which so essentially altered his condition and prospects at twenty, would have carried him forward to higher and higher sources of influence and enjoyment, as long as he should continue them. His efforts ceased when he obtained a situation as teacher, at forty dollars a month, and though twenty years have glided away, he is now exactly what he was then. There is probably no employment whatever which affords so favorable an opportunity for personal improvement,--for steady intellectual and moral progress, as that of teaching. There are two reasons for this. First, there is time for it. With an ordinary degree of health and strength, the mind can be vigorously employed at least ten hours a day. As much as this, is required of students, in many literary institutions. In fact ten hours to study, seven to sleep, and seven to food, exercise, and recreation, is perhaps as good an arrangement as can be made; at any rate, very few persons will suppose that such a plan allows too little under the latter head. Now six hours is as much as is expected of teachers under ordinary circumstances, and it is as much as ought ever to be bestowed. For though he may labor four hours out of school, in some new field, his health and spirits will soon sink under the burden, if after his weary labors during the day in school, he gives up his evenings to the same perplexities and cares. And it is not necessary. No one who knows any thing of the nature of the human mind, and who will reflect a moment on the subject, can doubt that a man can make a better school, by expending six hours labor upon it, which he can go through with, with some alacrity and ardor, than he can by driving himself on to ten. Every teacher therefore, who is commencing his work, should begin with the firm determination of devoting only six hours daily to the pursuit. Make as good a school, and accomplish as much for it, as you can in six hours, and let the rest go. When you come from your school room at night, leave all your perplexities and cares behind you. No matter what unfinished business or unsettled difficulties remain. Dismiss them all till another sun shall rise, and the hour of duty for another day shall come. Carry no school work home with you and do not talk of your work. You will then get refreshment and rest. Your mind during the evening will be in a different world from that in which you have moved during the day. At first this will be difficult. It will be hard for you, unless your mind is uncommonly well disciplined, to dismiss all your cares; and you will think, each evening, that some peculiar emergency demands your attention, _just at that time_, and that as soon as you have passed the crisis, you will confine yourself to what you admit are generally reasonable limits. But if you once allow school with its perplexities and cares to get possession of the rest of the day, it will keep possession. It will intrude itself into all your waking thoughts, and trouble you in your dreams. You will lose all command of your powers, and besides cutting off from yourself all hope of general intellectual progress, you will in fact destroy your success as a teacher. Exhaustion, weariness, and anxiety will be your continual portion, and in such a state, no business can be successfully prosecuted. There need be no fear that employers will be dissatisfied, if the teacher acts upon this principle. If he is faithful and enters with all his heart into the discharge of his duties during six hours, there will be something in the ardor, and alacrity, and spirit with which his duties will be performed, which parents and scholars will both be very glad to receive, in exchange for the languid, and dull, and heartless toil, in which the other method must sooner or later result. * * * * * If the teacher then, will confine himself to such a portion of time, as is, in fact, all he can advantageously employ, there will be much left which can be devoted to his own private employment,--more than is usual in the other employments of life. In most of these other employments, there is not the same necessity for limiting the hours which a man may devote to his business. A merchant, for example, may be employed nearly all the day, at his counting-room, and so may a mechanic. A physician may spend all his waking-hours in visiting patients, and feel little more than healthy fatigue. The reason is that in all these employments, and in fact in most of the employments of life, there is so much to diversify, so many little incidents constantly occurring to animate and relieve, and so much bodily exercise, which alternates with, and suspends the fatigues of the mind, that the labors may be much longer continued, and with less cessation, and yet the health not suffer. But the teacher, while engaged in his work, has his mind continually on the stretch. There is little to relieve, little respite, and he is almost entirely deprived of bodily exercise. He must, consequently, limit his hours of attending to his business, or his health will soon sink under labors which Providence never intended the human mind to bear. There is another circumstance which facilitates the progress of the teacher. It is a fact that all this general progress has a direct and immediate bearing upon his pursuits. A lawyer may read in an evening an interesting book of travels, and find nothing to help him with his case, the next day, in court,--but almost every fact which the teacher thus learns, will come _at once into use,_ in some of his recitations at school. We do not mean to imply by this that the members of the legal profession have not need of a great variety and extent of knowledge; they doubtless have. It is simply in the _directness_ and _certainty_, with which the teacher's knowledge may be applied to his purpose, that the business of teaching has the advantage over every other pursuit. This fact now has a very important influence in encouraging, and leading forward the teacher, to make constant intellectual progress, for every step brings at once a direct reward. 10. THE CHESTNUT BURR. _A story for school-boys._[E] One fine pleasant morning, in the fall of the year, the master was walking along towards school, and he saw three or four boys under a large chestnut tree, gathering chestnuts. [Footnote E: Originally written for a periodical.] One of the boys was sitting upon the ground, trying to open some chestnut burrs, which he had knocked off from the tree. The burrs were green, and he was trying to open them by pounding them with a stone. He was a very impatient boy and was scolding, in a loud angry tone, against the burrs. He did not see, he said, what in the world chestnuts were made to grow so for. They ought to grow right out in the open air, like apples, and not have such vile porcupine skins on them,--just to plague the boys. So saying he struck with all his might a fine large burr, crushed it to pieces, and then jumped up, using at the same time profane and wicked words. As soon as he turned round he saw the master standing very near him. He felt very much ashamed and afraid, and hung down his head. "Roger," said the master, (for this boy's name was Roger) "can you get me a chestnut burr?" Roger looked up for a moment, to see whether the master was in earnest, and then began to look around for a burr. A boy who was standing near the tree, with a red cap full of burrs in his hand, held out one of them. Roger took the burr and handed it to the master, who quietly put it into his pocket, and walked away without saying a word. As soon as he was gone, the boy with the red cap, said to Roger, "I expected the master would have given you a good scolding for talking so." "The master never scolds," said another boy, who was sitting on a log pretty near, with a green satchel in his hand, "but you see if he does not remember it." Roger looked as if he did not know what to think about it. "I wish," said he, "I knew what he is going to do with that burr." That afternoon, when the lessons had been all recited, and it was about time to dismiss the school, the boys put away their books, and the master read a few verses in the Bible, and then offered a prayer, in which he asked God to forgive all the sins which any of them had committed that day, and to take care of them during the night. After this he asked the boys all to sit down. He then took his handkerchief out of his pocket, and laid it on the desk, and afterwards he put his hand into his pocket again; and took out the chestnut burr, and all the boys looked at it. "Boys," said he, "do you know what this is?" One of the boys in the back seat, said, in a half whisper, "It is nothing but a chestnut burr." "Lucy," said the master, to a bright-eyed little girl, near him, "what is this?" "It is a chestnut burr, sir," said she. "Do you know what it is for?" "I suppose there are chestnuts in it." "But what is this rough prickly covering for?" Lucy did not know. "Does any body here know?" said the master. One of the boys said he supposed it was to hold the chestnuts together, and keep them up on the tree. "But I heard a boy say," replied the master, "that they ought not to be made to grow so. The nut itself, he thought, ought to hang alone on the branches, without any prickly covering,--just as apples do." "But the nuts themselves have no stems to be fastened by," answered the same boy. "That is true, but I suppose this boy thought that God could have made them grow with stems, and that this would have been better than to have them in burrs." After a little pause the master said he would explain to them what the chestnut burr was for, and wished them all to listen attentively. "How much of the chestnut is good to eat, William?" asked he, looking at a boy before him. "Only the meat." "How long does it take the meat to grow?" "All summer I suppose, it is growing." "Yes; it begins early in the summer and gradually swells and grows until it has become of full size and is ripe, in the fall. Now suppose there was a tree out here near the school-house, and the chestnut meats should grow upon it without any shell or covering, suppose too that they should taste like good ripe chestnuts at first, when they were very small. Do you think they would be safe?" William said, "No! the boys would pick and eat them before they had time to grow." "Well, what harm would there be in that; would it not be as well to have the chestnuts early in the summer, as to have them in the fall?" William hesitated. Another boy who sat next to him said, "There would not be so much meat in the chestnuts, if they were eaten before they had time to grow." "Right," said the master, "but would not the boys know this, and so all agree to let the little chestnuts stay, and not eat them while they were small?" William said he thought they would not. If the chestnuts were good, he was afraid they would pick them off and eat them, if they were small. All the rest of the boys in the school thought so too. "Here then," said the master, "is one reason for having prickles around the chestnuts when they are small. But then it is not necessary to have all chestnuts guarded from boys in this way; a great many of the trees are in the woods, which the boys do not see; what good do the burrs do in these trees?" The boys hesitated. Presently the boy who had the green satchel under the tree with Roger, who was sitting in one corner of the room, said, "I should think they would keep the squirrels from eating them." "And besides," continued he after thinking a moment, "I should suppose if the meat of the chestnut had no covering, the rain might wet it and make it rot, or the sun might dry and wither it." "Yes," said the master, "these are very good reasons why the nut should be carefully guarded. First the meats are packed away in a hard brown shell, which the water cannot get through; this keeps it dry, and away from dust, and other things which might injure it. Then several nuts thus protected grow closely together inside this green prickly covering; which spreads over them and guards them from the larger animals and the boys. Where the chestnut gets its full growth and is ripe, this covering you know splits open, and the nuts drop out, and then any body can get them and eat them." The boys were then all satisfied that it was better that chestnuts should grow in burrs. "But why," asked one of the boys, "do not apples grow so?" "Can any body answer that question," asked the master. The boy with the green satchel said that apples had a smooth, tight skin, which kept out the wet, but he did not see how they were guarded from animals. The master said is was by their taste. "They are hard and sour before they are full grown, and so the taste is not pleasant, and nobody wants to eat them,--except sometimes a few foolish boys, and these are punished by being made sick. When the apples are full grown they change from sour to sweet, and become mellow; then they can be eaten. Can you tell me of any other fruits which are preserved in this way?" One boy answered, "Strawberries and blackberries," and another said, "Peaches and pears." Another boy asked why the peach-stone was not outside the peach, so as to keep it from being eaten. But the master said he would explain this another time. Then he dismissed the scholars, after asking Roger to wait until the rest had gone, as he wished to see him alone. 11. THE SERIES OF WRITING LESSONS. c.[F] Very many pupils soon become weary of the dull and monotonous business of writing, unless some plans are devised, to give interest and variety to the exercise, and on this account, this branch of education, in which improvement may be most rapid, is often the last and most tedious to be acquired. [Footnote F: The articles to which this letter is prefixed were communicated for the work, by different teachers at the request of the author.] A teacher, by adopting the following plan, succeeded in awakening a great degree of interest in this subject, and consequently, of promoting rapid improvement. The plan was this; he prepared, on a large sheet of paper, a series of lessons in coarse hand, beginning with straight lines, and proceeding to the elementary parts of the various letters, and finally to the letters themselves. This paper was posted up in a part of the room accessible to all. The writing-books were made of three sheets of fool's-cap paper, folded into a convenient size, which was to be ruled by each pupil; for it was thought important that each one should learn this art. Every pupil in school then, being furnished with one of these writing books, was required to commence this series, and to practice each lesson until he could write it well; then, and not till then, he was permitted to pass to the next. A few brief directions were given under each lesson, on the large sheet. For example, under the line of straight marks, which constituted the first lesson, was written as follows: _Straight, equidistant, parallel, smooth, well terminated_ These directions were to call the attention of the pupil to the excellences which he must aim at, and when he supposed he had secured them, his book was to be presented to the teacher for examination. If approved the word _Passed_, or afterwards simply _P._ was written under the line, and he could then proceed to the next lesson. Other requisites were necessary besides the correct formation of the letters, to enable one to pass; for example, the page must not be soiled or blotted, no paper must be wasted, and, in no case, a leaf torn out. As soon as _one line_ was written in the manner required, the scholar was allowed to pass; in a majority of cases however, not less than a page would be practised, and in many instances a sheet would be covered, before one line could be produced which would be approved. One peculiar excellency of this method was, that although the whole school were working under a regular and systematic plan, individuals could go on independently; that is, the progress of no scholar was retarded by that of his companion; the one more advanced, might easily pass the earlier lessons in few days, while the others would require weeks of practice to acquire the same degree of skill. During the writing hour, the scholars would practice, each at the lesson where he left off before, and at a particular time, each day, the books were brought from the regular place of deposit, and laid before the teacher for examination. Without some arrangement for an examination of all the books together, the teacher would be liable to interruption at any time, from individual questions and requests, which would consume much time, and benefit only a few. When a page of writing could not pass, a brief remark, calling the attention of the pupil to the faults which prevented it, was sometimes made in pencil at the bottom of the page. In other cases, the fault was of such a character as to require full and minute oral directions to the pupil. At last, to facilitate the criticism of the writing, a set of arbitrary marks; indicative of the various faults, was devised, and applied, as occasion might require, to the writing books, by means of red ink. These marks, which were very simple in their character, were easily remembered, for there was generally some connexion between the sign and the thing signified. For example; the mark denoting that letters were too short, was simply lengthening them in red ink. A faulty curve was denoted, by making a new curve over the old one, &c. The following are the principal criticisms and directions for which marks were contrived. Strokes rough. Curve wrong. Bad termination. Too slanting, and the reverse. Too broad, and the reverse. Not parallel. Form of the letter bad. Large stroke made too fine, and the reverse. Too tall, or too short. Stems not straight. Careless work. Paper wasted. Almost well enough to pass. Bring your book to the teacher. Former fault not corrected. A catalogue of these marks, with an explanation, was made out and placed where it was accessible to all, and by means of them the books could be very easily and rapidly, but thoroughly criticised. After the plan had gone on for some time, and its operation was fully understood, the teacher gave up the business of examining the books into the hands of a Committee, appointed by him from among the older and more advanced pupils. That the Committee might be unbiased in their judgment, they were required to examine and decide upon the books, without knowing the names of the writers. Each scholar was indeed required to place her name on the right hand upper corner of every page of her writing-book, for the convenience of the distributors; but this corner was turned down, when the book was brought in, that it might not be seen by the Committee. This Committee were entrusted with plenary powers, and there was no appeal from their decision. In case they exercised their authority in an improper way, or failed on any account to give satisfaction, they were liable to impeachment, but while they continued in office, they were to be strictly obeyed. This plan went on successfully for three months, and with very little diminution of interest. The whole school went regularly through the lessons in coarse hand, and afterwards through a similar series in fine hand, and improvement in this branch was thought to be greater than at any former period in the same length of time. The same principle of arranging the several steps of an art or a study into a series of lessons, and requiring the pupil to pass regularly from one to the other, might easily be applied to other studies, and would afford a pleasant variety. 12. THE CORRESPONDENCE. A master of a district school was walking through the room, with a large rule in his hands, and as he came up behind two small boys, he observed that they were playing with some papers. He struck them once or twice, though not very severely on the head, with the rule which he had in his hand. Tears started from the eyes of one. They were called forth by a mingled feeling of grief, mortification, and pain. The other who was of "sterner stuff," looked steadily into the master's face, and when his back was turned, shook his fist at him and laughed in defiance. Another teacher seeing a similar case, did nothing. The boys when they saw him; hastily gathered up their playthings and put them away. An hour or two after, a little boy who sat near the master, brought them a note addressed to them both. They opened it and read as follows. To Edward and John, I observed, when I passed you to-day, from your concerned looks, and your hurried manner of putting something into your desk, that you were doing something that you knew was wrong. When you attempt to do any thing whatever, which conscience tells you is wrong, you only make yourself uneasy and anxious while you do it, and then you are forced to resort to concealment and deception, when you see me coming. You would be a great deal happier, if you would always be doing your duty, and then you would never be afraid. Your affectionate teacher, ---- ----. As the teacher was arranging his papers in his desk, at the close of school, he found a small piece of paper neatly folded up in the form of a note, and addressed to him. He read as follows, Dear teacher, We are very much obliged to you for writing us a note. We were making a paper box. We know it was wrong, and are determined not to do so any more. We hope you will forgive us. Your pupils, Edward, John. Which of these teachers understood human nature best? 13. WEEKLY REPORTS. The plan described by the following article, which was furnished by a teacher for insertion here, was originally adopted, so far as I know, in a school on the Kennebec. I have adopted it with great advantage. * * * * * c. A teacher had one day been speaking to her scholars of certain cases of slight disorder in the school, which, she remarked, had been gradually creeping in, and which, she thought, it devolved upon the scholars, by systematic efforts, to repress. She enumerated instances of disorder in the arrangement of the rooms, leaving the benches out of their places, throwing waste papers upon the floor, having the desk in disorder, inside, spilling water upon the entry floor, disorderly deportment, such as too loud talking or laughing in recess, or in the intermission at noon, or when coming to school, and making unnecessary noise in going to, or returning from recitations. "I have a plan to propose," said the teacher, "which I think may be the pleasantest way of promoting a reform, in things of this kind. It is this. Let several of your number be chosen a Committee to prepare, statedly--perhaps as often as once a week,--a written report of the state of the school. The report might be read before the school at the close of each week. The Committee might consist in the whole, of seven or eight, or even of eleven or twelve individuals who should take the whole business into their hands. This Committee might appoint individuals of their number, to write, in turn, each week. By this arrangement, it would not be known to the school generally, who are the writers of any particular report, if the individuals wish to be anonymous. Two individuals might be appointed at the beginning of the week, who should feel it their business to observe particularly the course of things from day to day, with reference to the report. Individuals not members of the Committee, can render assistance by any suggestions they may present to this Committee. These should however generally be made in writing." "Subjects for such a report will be found to suggest themselves very abundantly, though you may not perhaps think so at first. The Committee may be empowered, not only to state the particulars in which things are going wrong, but the methods by which they may be made right. Let them present us with any suggestions they please. If we do not like them, we are not obliged to adopt them. For instance, it is generally the case whenever a recitation is attended in the corner yonder, that an end of one of the benches is put against the door, so as to occasion a serious interruption to the exercises when a person wishes to come in or go out. It would come within the province of the Committee to attend to such a case as this, that is, to bring it up in the report. The remedy in such a case is a very simple one. Suppose however, that instead of the _simple_ remedy, our Committee should propose that the classes reciting in the said corner should be dissolved and the studies abolished. We should know the proposal was an absurd one; but then it would do no hurt;--we should have only to reject it." "Again, besides our faults, let our Committee notice the respects in which we are doing particularly well, that we may be encouraged to go on doing well, or even to do better. If they think for example, that we are deserving of credit for the neatness with which books are kept,--for their freedom from blots or scribblings, or dog's-ears, by which school-books are so commonly defaced, let them tell us so. And the same of any other excellence." With the plan as thus presented, the scholars were very much pleased. It was proposed by one individual that such a Committee should be appointed immediately, and a report prepared for the ensuing week. This was done. The Committee were chosen by ballot. The following may be taken as a specimen of their reports. WEEKLY REPORT. 'The Committee appointed to write the weekly report have noticed several things which they think wrong. In the first place there have been a greater number of tardy scholars, during the past week than usual. Much of this tardiness we suppose is owing to the interest felt in building the bower; but we think this business ought to be attended to only in play hours: If only one or two come in late when we are reading in the morning, or after we have composed ourselves to study at the close of the recess, every scholar must look up from her book,--we do not say they ought to do so, but only that they will do so. However, we anticipate an improvement in this respect, as we know "a word to the wise is sufficient." 'In the two back rows we are sorry to say that we have noticed whispering. We know that this fact will very much distress our Teacher, as she expects assistance, and not trouble from our older scholars. It is not our business to reprove any one's misconduct, but it is our duty to mention it, however disagreeable it may be. We think the younger scholars during the past week have much improved in this respect. Only three cases of whispering among them have occurred to our knowledge. 'We remember some remarks made a few weeks ago, by our Teacher, on the practice of prompting each other in the classes. We wish she would repeat them, for we fear that by some they are forgotten. In the class in Geography, particularly in the questions on the map, we have noticed sly whispers, which we suppose were the hints of some kind friend designed to refresh the memory of her less attentive companion. We propose that the following question be now put to vote. Shall the practice of prompting in the classes be any longer continued? 'We would propose that we have a composition exercise _this_ week similar to the one on Thursday last. It was very interesting, and we think all would be willing to try their thinking powers once more. We would propose also that the readers of the compositions should sit near the centre of the room, as last week many fine sentences escaped the ears of those seated in the remote corners. 'We were requested by a very public-spirited individual to mention once more the want of three nails, for bonnets in the entry. Also, to say that the air from the broken pane of glass on the east side of the room, is very unpleasant to these who sit near. 'Proposed that the girls who exhibited so much taste and ingenuity in the arrangement of the festoons of evergreen, and tumblers of flowers around the Teacher's desk, be now requested to remove the faded roses and drooping violets. We have gazed on these sad emblems long enough. 'Finally, proposed that greater care be taken by those who stay at noon, to place their dinner baskets in proper places. The contents of more than one, were partly strewed upon the entry floor this morning.' If such a measure as this is adopted, it should not be continued uninterrupted for a very long time. Every thing of this sort should be occasionally changed, or it sooner or later becomes only a form. 14. THE SHOPPING EXERCISE. c. I have often when going a shopping found difficulty and trouble in making change. I could never calculate very readily and in the hurry and perplexity of the moment, I was always making mistakes. I have heard others often make the same complaint, and I resolved to try the experiment of regularly teaching children to make change. I had a bright little class in Arithmetic, who were always ready to engage with interest in any thing new, and to them I proposed my plan. It was to be called the Shopping Exercise. I first requested each individual to write something upon her slate, which she would like to buy, if she was going a shopping, stating the quantity she wished and the price of it. To make the first lesson as simple as possible, I requested no one to go above ten, either in the quantity or price. When all were ready, I called upon some one to read what she had written. Her next neighbor was then requested to tell us how much the purchase would amount to; then the first one named a bill, which she supposed to be offered in payment, and the second showed what change was needed. A short specimen of the exercise will probably make it clearer than mere description. _Mary._ Eight ounces of candy at seven cents. _Susan._ Fifty-six cents. _Mary._ One dollar. _Susan._ Forty-four cents. _Susan._ Nine yards of lace at eight cents. _Anna._ Seventy-two cents. _Susan._ Two dollars. _Anna._ One dollar and twenty-eight cents. _Anna._ Three pieces of tape at five cents. _Jane._ Fifteen cents. _Anna._ Three dollars. _Jane_. Eighty-five cents. _Several voices._ Wrong. _Jane._ Two dollars and eighty-five cents. _Jane._ Six pictures at eight cents. _Sarah._ Forty-two cents. _Several voices._ Wrong. _Sarah._ Forty-eight cents. _Jane._ One dollar. _Sarah._ Sixty-two cents. _Several voices._ Wrong. _Sarah._ Fifty-two cents. It will be perceived that the same individual who names the article and the price, names also the bill which she would give in payment, and the one who sits next her, who calculated the amount, calculated also the change to be returned. She then proposed her example to the one next in the line, with whom the same course was pursued, and thus it passed down the class. The exercise went on for some time in this way, till the pupils had become so familiar with it, that I thought it best to allow them to take higher numbers. They were always interested in it, and made great improvement in a short time, and I, myself, derived great advantage from listening to them. There is one more circumstance, I will add, which may contribute to the interest of this account. While the class were confined in what they purchased, to the number ten, they were sometimes inclined to turn the exercise into a frolic. The variety of articles which they could find costing less than ten cents was so small, that for the sake of getting something new, they would propose examples really ludicrous, such as these. Three meeting-houses at two cents. Four pianos at nine cents. But I soon found that if I allowed this at all, then attention was diverted from the main object, and occupied in seeking the most diverting and curious examples. 15. ARTIFICES IN RECITATIONS. c. The teacher of a small, newly established school, had all of his scholars classed together in some of their studies. At recitations he usually sat in the middle of the room, while the scholars occupied the usual places at their desks, which were arranged around the sides. In the recitation in Rhetoric, the teacher, after a time, observed that one or two of the class seldom answered appropriately the questions which came to them; but yet, were always ready with some kind of answer--generally an exact quotation of the words of the book. Upon noticing these individuals more particularly, he was convinced that their books were open before them, in some concealed situation. Another practice not uncommon in the class, was that of _prompting_ each other, either by whispers or writing. The teacher took no notice publicly of these practices, for some time, until at the close of an uncommonly good recitation, he remarked, "Well, I think we have had a fine recitation to-day. It is one of the pleasantest things I ever do, to hear a lesson that is learned as well as this. Do you think it would be possible for us to have as good an exercise every day?" "Yes sir," answered several faintly. "Do you think it would be reasonable for me to expect of every member of the class, that she should always be able to recite all her lessons, without ever missing a single question?" "No sir," answered all. "I do not expect it," said the teacher. "All I wish is, that each of you should be faithful in your efforts to prepare your lessons. I wish you to study from a sense of duty, and for the sake of your own improvement. You know I do not punish you for failures. I have no going up or down, no system of marking. Your only reward when you have made faithful preparation for a recitation, is the feeling of satisfaction which you will always experience; and when you have been negligent, your only punishment is a sort of uneasy feeling of self-reproach. I do not expect you all to be invariably prepared with every question of your lessons. Sometimes you will be unavoidably prevented from studying them, and at other times, when you have studied them very carefully, you may have forgotten, or you may fail from some misapprehension of the meaning in some cases. Do not, in such a case, feel troubled because you may not have appeared as well as some individual who has not been half as faithful as yourself. If you have done your duty that is enough. On the other hand, you ought to feel no better satisfied with yourselves when your lesson has not been studied well, because you may have happened to know the parts which came to you. Have I _done_ well should always be the question, not have I managed to _appear_ well? "I will say a word here," continued the teacher, "upon a practice, which I have known to be very common in some schools, and which I have been sorry to notice occasionally in this. I mean that of prompting, or helping each other along in some way, at recitations. Now, where a severe punishment is the consequence of a failure, there might seem to be some reasonableness in helping your companions out of difficulty, though even then, such tricks are departures from honorable dealing. But especially when there is no purpose to be served but that of appearing to know more than you do, it certainly must be considered a very mean kind of artifice. I think I have sometimes observed an individual to be prompted, where evidently the assistance was not desired, and even where it was not needed. To whisper to an individual the answer to a question, is sometimes to pay her rather a poor compliment, at least; for it is the same as saying, 'I am a better scholar than you are; let me help you along a little.' "Let us then hereafter, have only fair, open, honest dealings with each other, no attempts to appear to advantage by little artful manoeuvering;--no prompting,--no peeping into books. Be faithful and conscientious, and then banish anxiety for your success. Do you not think you shall find this the pleasantest course?"--"Yes sir," answered every scholar. "Are you willing to pledge yourselves to adopt it?" "Yes sir." "Those who are, may raise their hands," said the teacher. Every hand was raised; and the pledge, there was evidence to believe, was honorably sustained. 16. KEEPING RESOLUTIONS. The following are notes of a familiar lecture on this subject, given by a teacher at some general exercise in the school. The practice of thus reducing to writing what the teacher may say on such subjects will be attended with excellent effects. This is a subject upon which young persons find much difficulty. The question is asked a thousand times, "How shall I ever learn to keep my resolutions?" Perhaps, the great cause of your failures is this. You are not sufficiently _definite_ in forming your purposes. You will resolve to do a thing, without knowing with certainty whether it is even possible to do it. Again, you make resolutions which are to run on indefinitely, so that of course, they can never be fully kept. For instance, one of you will resolve to _rise earlier in the morning_. You fix upon no definite hour, on any definite number of mornings, only you are going to "_rise earlier_." Morning comes and finds you sleepy and disinclined to rise. You remember your resolution of rising earlier. "But then it is _very early_," you say. You resolved to rise earlier, but you didn't resolve to rise just then. And this, it may be, is the last of your resolution. Or, perhaps you are, for a few mornings, a little earlier; but then at the end of a week or fortnight, you do not know exactly, whether your resolution has been broken or kept, for, you had not decided whether to rise earlier for ten days, or for ten years. In the same vague and general manner, a person will resolve to be _more studious_, or more diligent. In the case of an individual, of a mature and well-disciplined mind, of acquired firmness of character, such a resolution might have effect. The individual will really devote more time and attention to his pursuits. But, for one of you to make such a resolution, would do no sort of good. It would only be a source of trouble and disquiet. You perceive there is nothing definite,--nothing fixed about it. You have not decided what amount of additional time or attention to give to your studies, or, when you will begin, or when you will end. There is no one time when you will feel that you are breaking your resolution, because there were no particular times when you were to study more. You waste one opportunity and another, and then, with a feeling of discouragement, and self-reproach, conclude to abandon your resolution. "Oh! it does no good to make resolutions," you say; "I never shall keep them." Now, if you would have the business of making resolutions a pleasant and interesting, instead of a discouraging, disquieting one, you must proceed in a different manner. Be definite and distinct in your plan,--decide exactly what you will do, and how you will do it--when you will begin and when you will end. Instead of resolving to "rise earlier," resolve to rise at the ringing of the sunrise bells, or at some other definite time. Resolve to try this, as an experiment, for one morning, or for one week, or fortnight. Decide positively, if you decide at all, and then, rise when the time comes, sleepy or not sleepy. Do not stop to repent of your resolution, or to consider the wisdom or folly of it, when the time for acting under it, has once arrived. In all cases, little and great, make this a principle,--to consider well before you begin to act, but after you have begun to act, never stop to consider. Resolve as deliberately as you please; but be sure to keep your resolution, whether a wise one or an unwise one, after it is once made. Never allow yourself to re-consider the question of getting up, after the morning has come, except it be, for some unforeseen circumstance. Get up for that time, and be more careful how you make resolutions again. 17. TOPICS. c. The plan of the Topic Exercise, as we called it, is this. Six or seven topics are given out, information upon which is to be obtained from any source, and communicated verbally before the whole school, or sometimes before a class formed for this purpose, the next day. The subjects are proposed both by teacher and scholars, and if approved, adopted. The exercise is intended to be voluntary, but ought to be managed in a way sufficiently interesting to induce all to join. At the commencement of the exercise the teacher calls upon all who have any information in regard to the topic assigned, suppose, for example it is _Alabaster_, to rise. Perhaps twenty individuals out of forty rise. The teacher may, perhaps, say to those in their seats, "Do you not know any thing of this subject? Have you neither seen nor heard of Alabaster, and had no means of ascertaining any thing in regard to it? If you have, you ought to rise. It is not necessary that you should state a fact altogether new and unheard of, but if you tell me its color, or some of the uses to which it is applied, you will be complying with my request." After these remarks, perhaps a few more rise, and possibly the whole school. Individuals are then called upon at random, each to state only one particular in regard to the topic in question. This arrangement is made so as to give all an opportunity to speak: If any scholar, after having mentioned one fact, has something still farther to communicate, she remains standing till called upon again. As soon as an individual has exhausted her stock of information, or if the facts that she intended to mention are stated by another, she takes her seat. The topics at first most usually selected, are the common objects by which we are surrounded; for example, glass, iron, mahogany, &c. The list will gradually extend itself, until it will embrace a large number of subjects. The object of this exercise is to induce pupils to seek for general information in an easy and pleasant manner, as by the perusal of books, newspapers, periodicals, and conversation with friends. It induces care and attention in reading, and discrimination in selecting the most useful and important facts from the mass of information. As individuals are called upon, also, to express their ideas _verbally_, they soon acquire by practice, the power of expressing their ideas with clearness and force, and communicating with ease and confidence the knowledge they possess. 18. MUSIC. c. The girls of our school often amused themselves in recess by collecting into little groups for singing. As there seemed to be a sufficient power of voice and a respectable number who were willing to join in the performance, it was proposed one day, that singing should be introduced as a part of the devotional exercises of the school. The first attempt nearly resulted in a failure; only a few trembling voices succeeded in singing Old Hundred, to the words, "Be thou," &c. On the second day, Peterborough was sung with much greater confidence on the part of the increased number of singers. The experiment was tried with greater and greater success for several days, when the Teacher proposed that a systematic plan should be formed, by which there night be singing regularly at the close of school. It was then proposed, that a number of Singing books be obtained, and one of the scholars, who was well acquainted with common tunes, be appointed as chorister. Her duty should be, to decide what particular tune may be sung each day, inform the Teacher of the metre of the hymn, and take the lead in the exercise. This plan being approved of by the scholars, was adopted, and put into immediate execution. Several brought copies of the Sabbath School Hymn Book which they had in their possession, and the plan succeeded beyond all expectation. The greatest difficulty in the way was to get some one to lead. The chorister, however, was somewhat relieved from the embarrassment which she would naturally feel in making a beginning, by the appointment of one or two individuals with herself, who were to act as her assistants. These constituted the leading Committee, or as it was afterwards termed, _Singing Committee_. Singing now became a regular and interesting exercise of the school, and the Committee succeeded in managing the business themselves. 19. TABU. c. An article was one day read in a school relating to the "Tabu" of the Sandwich Islanders. Tabu is a term with them which signifies consecrated,--not to be touched--to be let alone--not to be violated. Thus according to their religious observances, a certain day will be proclaimed _Tabu_, that is, one upon which there is to be no work, or no going out. A few days after this article was read, the scholars observed one morning, a flower stuck up in a conspicuous place against the wall, with the word TABU in large characters above it. This excited considerable curiosity. The teacher informed them, in explanation, that the flower was a very rare and beautiful specimen brought by one of the scholars, which he wished all to examine. "You would naturally feel a disposition to examine it by the touch;" said he, "but you will all see, that by the time it was touched by sixty individuals, it would be likely to be injured, if not destroyed. So I concluded to label it, _Tabu_. And it has occurred to me that this will be a convenient mode of apprising you generally, that any article had better not be handled. You know we sometimes have some apparatus exposed, which would be liable to injury from disturbance, where there are so many persons to touch it. I shall in such a case, just mention that an article is Tabu, and you will understand that it is not only not to be _injured_, but not even _touched_." A little delicate management of this sort will often have more influence over young persons, than the most vehement scolding, or the most watchful and jealous precautions. The Tabu was always most scrupulously regarded, after this, whenever employed. 20. MENTAL ANALYSIS. Scene; a class in Arithmetic at recitation. The teacher gives them an example in addition, requesting them when they have performed it to rise. Some finish it very soon, others are very slow in accomplishing the work. "I should like to ascertain," says the teacher, "how great is the difference of rapidity, with which different members of the class work in addition. I will give you another example, and then notice by my watch, the shortest and longest time required to do it." The result of the experiment was, that some members of the class were two or three times as long in doing it, as others. "Perhaps you think," said the teacher, "that this difference is altogether owing to difference of skill, but it is not. It is mainly owing to the different methods adopted by various individuals. I am going to describe some of these, and as I describe them, I wish you would notice them carefully, and tell me which you practice. There are then three modes of adding up a column of figures, which I shall describe." 1. "I shall call the first _counting_. You take the first figure, and then add the next to it, by counting up regularly. There are three distinct ways of doing this. (a.) Counting by your fingers. ("Yes sir.") You take the first figure,--suppose it is seven, and the one above it, eight. Now you recollect that to add eight, you must count all the fingers of one hand, and all but two again. So you say seven--eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen." "Yes sir," "Yes sir," said the scholars. (b.) "The next mode of counting is to do it mentally, without using your fingers at all, but as it is necessary for you to have some plan to secure your adding the right number, you divide the units into sets of two each. Thus you remember that eight consists of four twos, and you accordingly say, when adding eight to seven, seven;--eight, nine;--ten, eleven;--twelve, thirteen;" &c. (c.) "The third mode is, to add by three, in the same way. You recollect that eight consists of two threes and a two; so you say, seven;--eight, nine, ten;--eleven, twelve, thirteen;--fourteen, fifteen." The teacher here stops to ascertain how many of the class are accustomed to add in either of these modes. It is a majority. 2. "The next general method is _calculating_. That is, you do not unite one number to another by the dull and tedious method of applying the units, one by one, as in the ways described under the preceding head, but you come to a result more rapidly by some mode of calculating. These modes are several. (a.) Doubling a number, and then adding or subtracting as the case may require. For instance in the example already specified; in order to add seven and eight, you say, "Twice seven are fourteen and one are fifteen;" ("Yes sir," "Yes sir,") or "Twice eight are sixteen, and taking one off, leaves fifteen. ("Yes sir.") (b.) Another way of calculating is to skip about the column, adding those numbers which you can do most easily, and then bringing in the rest as you best can. Thus, if you see three eights in one column, you say three times eight are twenty-four, and then you try to bring in the other numbers. Often in such cases, you forget what you have added and what you have not, and get confused, ("Yes sir,") or you omit something in your work, and consequently it is incorrect. (c.) If nines occur, you sometimes add ten, and then take off one, for it is very easy to add ten. (d.) Another method of calculating, which is, however, not very common, is this. To take our old case, adding eight to seven, you take as much from the eight to add to the seven as will be sufficient to make ten, and then it will be easy to add the rest. Thus, you think in a minute, that three from the eight will make the seven a ten, and then there will be five more to add, which will make fifteen. If the next number was seven, you would say five of it will make twenty, and then there will be two left, which will make twenty-two. This mode, though it may seem more intricate than any of the others, is in fact more rapid than any of them, when one is little accustomed to it. These are the four principal modes of calculating which occur to me. Pupils do not generally practice any one of them exclusively, but occasionally resort to each, according to the circumstances of the particular case." The teacher here stopped to inquire how many of the class were accustomed to add by calculating in either of these ways; or in any simpler ways. 3. "There is one more mode which I shall describe: it is by _Memory_. Before I explain this mode I wish to ask you some questions which I should like to have you answer as quick as you can. How much is four times five?--Four _and_ five? How much is seven times nine?--Seven _and_ nine? Eight times six?--Eight _and_ six? Nine times seven?--Nine _and_ seven?" After asking a few questions of this kind, it was perceived that the pupils could tell much more readily what was the result when the numbers were to be multiplied, then when they were to be added. "The reason is," said the teacher, "because you committed the multiplication table to memory, and have not committed the addition table. Now many persons have committed the addition table, so that it is perfectly familiar to them, and when they see any two numbers, the amount which is produced when they are added together comes to mind in an instant. Adding in this way is the last of the three modes I was to describe. Now of these three methods, the last is undoubtedly the best. If you once commit the addition table thoroughly, you have it fixed for life; whereas if you do not, you have to make the calculation over again every time, and thus lose a vast amount of labor. I have no doubt that there are some in this class who are in the habit of _counting_, who have ascertained that seven and eight for instance, make fifteen; by counting up from seven to fifteen, _hundreds of times_. Now how much better it would be, to spend a little time in fixing the fact in the mind once for all, and then when you come to the case, seven and eight are--say at once "Fifteen,"--instead of mumbling over and over again, hundreds of times, "Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen." The reason then, that some of the class add so slowly, is not probably because they want skill and rapidity of execution, but became they work to a great disadvantage, by working in the wrong way. I have often been surprised at the dexterity and speed with which some scholars can count with their fingers, when adding, and yet they could not get through the sum very, quick--at least they would have done it in half the time, if the same effort had been made in travelling on a shorter road. We will therefore study the addition table now, in the class, before we go on any farther." * * * * * The foregoing narratives, it is hoped, may induce some of the readers of this book to keep journals of their own experiments, and of the incidents which may, from time to time come under their notice, illustrating the principles of education, or simply the characteristics and tendencies of the youthful mind. The business of teaching will excite interest and afford pleasure, just in proportion to the degree in which it is conducted by operations of mind upon mind, and the means of making it most fully so, are, careful practice, based upon, and regulated by, the results of careful observation. Every teacher then should make observations and experiments upon mind a part of his daily duty, and nothing will more facilitate this, than keeping a record of results. There can be no opportunity for studying human nature, more favorable than the teacher enjoys. The materials are all before him; his very business, from day to day, brings him to act directly upon them; and the study of the powers and tendencies of the human mind is not only the most interesting and the noblest that can engage human attention, but every step of progress he makes in it, imparts an interest and charm, to what would otherwise be a weary toil. It at once relieves his labors, while it doubles their efficiency and success. CHAPTER IX. THE TEACHER'S FIRST DAY. The teacher enters upon the duties of his office by a much more sudden transition than is common in the other avocations and employments of life. In ordinary cases, business comes at first by slow degrees, and the beginner is introduced to the labors and responsibilities of his employment, in a very gradual manner. The young teacher, however, enters, by a single step, into the very midst of his labors. Having, perhaps, never even heard a class recite before, he takes a short walk some winter morning, and suddenly finds himself instated at the desk,--his fifty scholars all around, looking him in the face, all waiting to be employed. Everything comes upon him at once. He can do nothing until the day and the hour for opening the school arrives,--then he has everything to do. Under these circumstances it is not surprising that the young teacher should look forward with unusual solicitude to his first day in school; and he desires, ordinarily, special instructions in respect to this occasion. Some such special instructions we propose to give in this chapter. The experienced teacher may think some of them too minute and trivial. But he must remember that they are intended for the youngest beginner in the humblest school; and if he recalls to mind his own feverish solicitude on the morning when he went to take his first command in the district school, he will pardon the seeming minuteness of detail. 1. It will be well for the young teacher to take opportunity, between the time of his engaging his school and that of his commencing it,--to acquire as much information in respect to it, beforehand, as possible,--so as to be somewhat acquainted with the scene of his labors before entering upon it. Ascertain the names and the characters of the principal families in the district, their ideas and wishes in respect to the government of the school, the kind of management adopted by one or two of the last teachers, the difficulties they fell into, the nature of the complaints made against them, if any, and the families with whom difficulty has usually arisen. This information must of course be obtained in private conversation; a good deal of it must be, from its very nature, highly confidential; but it is very important that the teacher should be possessed of it. He will necessarily become possessed of it by degrees, in the course of his administration, when, however, it may be too late to be of any service to him. But by judicious and proper efforts to acquire it beforehand, he will enter upon the discharge of his duties with great advantage. It is like a navigator's becoming acquainted beforehand with the nature and the dangers of the sea over which he is about to sail. Such inquiries as these will, in ordinary cases, bring to the teacher's knowledge, in most districts in our country, some cases of peculiarly troublesome scholars, or unreasonable and complaining parents,--and stories of their unjustifiable conduct on former occasions, will come to him; exaggerated by the jealousy of rival neighbours. There is danger that his resentment may be roused a little, and that his mind will assume a hostile attitude at once towards such individuals; so that he will enter upon his work rather with a desire to seek a collision with them, or at least with secret feelings of defiance towards them,--feelings which will lead to that kind of unbending perpendicularity in his demeanour towards them which will almost inevitably lead to a collision. Now this is wrong. There is indeed a point where firm resistance to unreasonable demands becomes a duty. But as a general principle it is most unquestionably true, that it is the teacher's duty _to accommodate himself to the character and expectations of his employers_, not to face and brave them. Those italicized words _may be_ understood to mean something which would be entirely wrong; but in the sense in which I mean to use them, there can be no question that they indicate the proper path for one employed by others to do work _for them_, in all cases, to pursue. If therefore the teacher finds by his inquiries into the state of his district that there are some peculiar difficulties and dangers there, let him not cherish a disposition to face and resist them, but to avoid them. Let him go with an intention to soothe rather than to irritate feelings which have been wounded before,--to comply with the wishes of all so far as he can, even if they are not entirely reasonable,--and while he endeavours to elevate the standard and correct the opinions prevailing among his employers, by any means in his power, to aim at doing it gently; and in a tone and manner suitable to the relation he sustains;--in a word, let him skilfully _avoid_ the dangers of his navigation, not obstinately run his ship against a rock on purpose, on the ground that the rock has no business to be there. This is the spirit then with which these preliminary inquiries, in regard to the patrons of the school, ought to be made. We come now to a second point. 2. It will assist the young teacher very much in his first day's labors, if he takes measures for seeing and conversing with some of the older or more intelligent scholars, on the day or evening before he begins his school, with a view of obtaining from them some acquaintance with the internal arrangements and customs of the school. The object of this is to obtain the same kind of information with respect to the interior of the school, that was recommended in respect to the district, under the former head. He may call upon a few families, especially those which furnish a large number of scholars for the school, and make as many minute inquiries of them, as he can, respecting all the interior arrangements to which they have been accustomed; what reading books and other text books have been used,--what are the principal classes in all the several departments of instruction,--and what is the system of discipline, and of rewards and punishments to which the school has been accustomed. If in such conversations the teacher should find a few intelligent and communicative scholars, he might learn a great deal about the past habits and condition of the school, which would be of great service to him. Not, by any means, that he will adopt and continue these methods as a matter of course,--but only that a knowledge of them will render him very important aid in marking out his own course. The more minute and full the information of this sort is which he thus obtains, the better. If practicable, it would be well to make out a catalogue of all the principal classes, with the names of those individuals belonging to them, who will probably attend the new school, and the order in which they were usually called upon to read or recite. The conversation which would be necessary to accomplish this, would of itself be of great service. It would bring the teacher into an acquaintance with several important families and groups of children, under the most favorable circumstances. The parents would see and be pleased with the kind of interest they would see the teacher taking in his new duties. The children would be pleased to be able to render their new instructer some service, and would go to the school-room on the next morning with a feeling of acquaintance with him, and a predisposition to be pleased. And if by chance any family should be thus called upon, that had heretofore been captious or complaining, or disposed to be jealous of the higher importance or influence of other families,--that spirit would be entirely softened and subdued by such an interview with their new instructer at their own fireside, on the evening preceding the commencement of his labors. The great object, however, which the teacher would have in view, in such inquiries, should be the value of the information itself. As to the use which he will make of it, we shall speak hereafter. 3. It is desirable that the young teacher should meet his scholars first in an unofficial capacity. For this purpose repair to the school-room, on the first day, at an early hour, so as to see and become acquainted with the scholars as they come in, one by one. The intercourse between teacher and pupil should be like that between parents and children, where the utmost freedom is united with the most perfect respect. The father who is most firm and decisive in his family government, can mingle most freely in the conversation and sports of his children without any derogation of his authority, or diminution of the respect they owe. Young teachers, however, are prone to forget this, and to imagine that they must assume an appearance of stern authority, always, when in the presence of their scholars, if they wish to be respected or obeyed. This they call keeping up their dignity. Accordingly they wait, on the morning of their induction into office, until their new subjects are all assembled, and then walk in with an air of the highest dignity, and with the step of a king. And sometimes a formidable instrument of discipline is carried in the hand to heighten the impression. Now there is no question that it is of great importance that scholars should have a high idea of the teacher's firmness and inflexible decision in maintaining his authority and repressing all disorder of every kind. But this impression should be created by their seeing how he _acts_, in the various emergencies which will spontaneously occur, and not by assumed airs of importance or dignity, feigned for effect. In other words, their respect for him should be based on _real traits_ of character, as they see them brought out into natural action, and not on appearances assumed for the occasion. It seems to me, therefore, that it is best for the teacher first to meet his scholars with the air and tone of free and familiar intercourse, and he will find his opportunity more favorable for doing this, if he goes early, on the first morning of his labors, and converses freely with those whom he finds there, and with others as they come in. He may take an interest with them in all the little arrangements connected with the opening of the school. The building of the fire, the paths through the snow, the arrangements of seats, calling upon them for information or aid, asking their names, and, in a word, entering fully and freely into conversation with them, just as a parent, under similar circumstances, would do with his children. All the children thus addressed will be pleased with the gentleness and affability of the teacher. Even a rough and ill-natured boy, who has perhaps come to the school with the express determination of attempting to make mischief, will be completely disarmed, by being asked pleasantly to help the teacher fix the fire, or alter the position of his desk. Thus by means of the half hour during which the scholars are coming together, and of the visits made in the preceding evening, as described under the last head, the teacher will find, when he calls upon the children to take their seats, that he has made a very large number of them his personal friends. Many of these will have communicated their first impressions to the others, so that he will find himself possessed, at the outset, of that which is of vital consequence in the opening of any administration,--a strong party in his favor. 4. The time for calling the school to order, and commencing exercises of some sort, will at length arrive, though if the work of making personal acquaintances is going on pleasantly, it may perhaps be delayed a little beyond the usual hour. When, however, the time arrives, we would strongly recommend that the first service by which the regular duties of the school are commenced should be an act of religious worship. There are many reasons why the exercises of the school should every day be thus commenced, and there are special reasons for it on the first day. There are very few districts where parents would have any objection to this. They might indeed, in some cases, if the subject were to be brought up formally before them as a matter of doubt, anticipate some difficulties, or create imaginary ones, growing out of the supposed sensitiveness of contending sects. But if the teacher were, of his own accord, to commence the plain, faithful, and honest discharge of this duty as a matter of course, very few would think of making any objection to it; and almost all would be satisfied and pleased with its actual operation. If, however, the teacher should, in any case, have reason to believe that such a practice would be contrary to the wishes of his employers, it would, according to views we have presented in another chapter, be wrong for him to attempt to introduce it. He might, if he should see fit, make such an objection a reason for declining to take the school; but he ought not, if he takes it, to act counter to the known wishes of his employers, in so important a point. But if, on the other hand, no such objections are made known to him, he need not raise the question himself at all, but take it for granted that in a Christian land there will be no objection to imploring the divine protection and blessing at the opening of a daily school. If this practice is adopted, it will have a most powerful influence upon the moral condition of the school. It must be so. Though many will be inattentive, and many utterly unconcerned,--yet it is not possible to bring children, even in form, into the presence of God every day, and to utter in their hearing the petitions, which they ought to present, without bringing a powerful element of moral influence to bear upon their hearts. The good will be made better,--the conscientious more conscientious still,--and the rude and savage will be subdued and softened by the daily attempt to lead them to the throne of their Creator. To secure this effect, the devotional service must be an honest one. There must be nothing feigned or hypocritical; no hackneyed phrases used without meaning, or intonations of assumed solemnity. It must be honest, heartfelt, simple prayer; the plain and direct expression of such sentiments as children ought to feel, and of such petitions as they ought to offer. We shall speak presently of the mode of avoiding some abuses to which this exercise is liable; but if these sources of abuse are avoided, and the duty is performed in that plain, simple, direct, and honest manner, in which it certainly will be, if it springs from the heart, it must have a great influence on the moral progress of the children, and in fact in all respects on the prosperity of the school. But then independently of the _advantages_ which may be expected to result from the practice of daily prayer in school,--it would seem to be the imperious _duty_ of the teacher to adopt it. So many human minds committed thus to the guidance of one,--at a period when the character receives so easily and so permanently its shape and direction,--and in a world of probation like this, is an occasion which seems to demand the open recognition of the hand of God on the part of any individual to whom such a trust is committed. The duty springs so directly out of the attitude in which the teacher and pupil stand in respect to each other, and the relation they together bear to the Supreme, that it would seem impossible for any one to hesitate to admit the duty, without denying altogether the existence of a God. How vast the responsibility of _giving form and character to the human soul_! How mighty the influence of which the unformed minds of a group of children are susceptible! How much their daily teacher must inevitably exert upon them! If we admit the existence of God at all, and that he exerts any agency whatever in the moral world which he has produced, here seems to be one of the strongest cases in which his intervention should be sought. And then when we reflect upon the influence which would be exerted upon the future religious character of this nation, by having the millions of children training up in the schools, accustomed, through all the years of early life, to being brought daily into the presence of the Supreme, with thanksgiving, confession, and prayer, it can hardly seem possible that the teacher who wishes to be faithful in his duties, should hesitate in regard to this. Some teacher may, perhaps, say that he cannot perform it because he is not a religious man;--he makes no pretensions to piety. But this can surely be no reason. He _ought to be_ a religious man, and his first prayer offered in school may be the first act by which he becomes so. Entering the service of Jehovah is a work which requires no preliminary steps. It is to be done at once, by sincere confession, and an honest prayer for forgiveness for the past, and strength for time to come. A daily religious service in school may be, therefore, the outward act by which he, who has long lived without God, may return to his duty. If, from such considerations, the teacher purposes to have a daily religious service in his school, he should by all means begin on the first day,--and when he first calls his school to order. He should mention to his pupils the great and obvious duty of imploring God's guidance and blessing in all their ways, and then read a short portion of Scripture, with an occasional word or two of simple explanation, and offer, himself, a short and simple prayer. In some cases, teachers are disposed to postpone this duty a day or two, from timidity or other causes, hoping that after becoming acquainted a little with the school, and having completed their more important arrangements, they shall find it easier to begin. But this is a sad mistake. The longer it is postponed, the more difficult and trying it will be. And then the moral impressions will be altogether more strong and salutary, if an act of solemn religious worship is made the first opening act of the school. Where the teacher has not sufficient confidence that the general sense of propriety among his pupils will preserve good order and decorum during the exercise, it may be better for him to _read_ a prayer, selected from books of devotion, or prepared by himself expressly for the occasion. By this plan his school will be, during the exercise, under his own observation as at other times. It may, in some schools, where the number is small, or the prevailing habits of seriousness and order are good, be well to allow the older scholars to read the prayer in rotation, taking especial care that it does not degenerate into a mere reading exercise; but that it is understood, both by readers and hearers, to be a solemn act of religious worship. In a word, if the teacher is really honest and sincere in his wish to lead his pupils to the worship of God, he will find no serious difficulty in preventing the abuses and avoiding the dangers which some might fear, and in accomplishing vast good, both in promoting the prosperity of the school, and in the formation of the highest and best traits a individual character. We have dwelt, perhaps, longer on this subject than we ought to have done in this place; but its importance, when viewed in its bearings on the thousands of children daily assembling in our district schools, must be our apology. The embarrassments and difficulties arising from the extreme sensitiveness which exists among the various denominations of Christians in our land, threaten to interfere very seriously with giving a proper degree of religious instruction to the mass of the youthful population. But we must not, because we have no national _church_, cease to have a national _religion_. All our institutions ought to be so administered as openly to recognise the hand of God, and to seek his protection and blessing; and in regard to none is it more imperiously necessary than in respect to our common schools. 5. After the school is thus opened, the teacher will find himself brought to the great difficulty which embarrasses the beginning of his labors, i. e. how to find immediate employment at once, for the thirty or forty children who all look up to him waiting for their orders. I say thirty or forty, for the young teacher's first school will usually be a small one. His object, I think, should be, in all ordinary cases, for the first few days, twofold. First, to revive and restore, in the main, the general routine of classes and exercises pursued by his predecessor in the same school. And secondly, while doing this, to become as fully acquainted with his scholars as possible. It is best then, _ordinarily_, for the teacher to begin the school as his predecessor closed it, and make the transition to his own perhaps more improved method, a gradual one. In some cases a different course is wise undoubtedly,--as, for example, where a teacher is commencing a private school, on a previously well-digested plan of his own,--or where one who has had experience, and has confidence in his power to bring his new pupils promptly and at once into the system of classification and instruction which he prefers. It is difficult however to do this, and requires a good deal of address and decision; it is far easier and safer, and in almost all cases, better in every respect for a young teacher to revive and restore the former arrangements in the main, and take his departure from them. He may afterwards make changes, as he may find them necessary or desirable, and even bring the school soon into a very different state from that in which he finds it; but it will generally be more pleasant for himself, and better for the school, to avoid the shock of a sudden and entire revolution. The first thing then, when the scholars are ready to be employed, is to set them at work, in classes or upon lessons, as they would have been employed had the former teacher continued in charge of the school. To illustrate clearly how this may be done, we may give the following dialogue. _Teacher._ "Can any one of the boys inform me what was the first lesson that the former master used to hear in the morning?" The boys are silent, looking to one another. _Teacher._ "Did he hear _any_ recitation immediately after school began?" _Boys_;--faintly and with hesitation. "No sir." _Teacher._ "How long was it before he began to hear lessons?" Several boys simultaneously. "About half an hour." "A little while." "Quarter of an hour." "What did he do at this time?" "Mended pens." "Set copies." "Looked over sums," and various other answers are perhaps given. The teacher then makes a memorandum of this, and then inquires; "And what lesson came after this?" "Geography." "All the boys in this school who studied geography may rise." A considerable number rise. "Did you all recite together?" "No sir." "There are two classes then?" "Yes sir." "Yes sir." "More than two." "All who belong to the class that recites first in the morning may remain standing; the rest may sit." The boys obey, and eight or ten of them remain standing. The teacher calls upon one of them to produce his book, and assigns them a lesson, in regular course. He then requests some one of the number to write out, in the course of the day, a list of the class, and to bring it with him to the recitation the next morning. "Are there any other scholars in the school who think it would be well for them to join this class?" In answer to this question probably some new scholars might perhaps rise, or some hitherto belonging to other classes, who might be of suitable age and qualifications to be transferred. If these individuals should appear to be of the proper standing and character, they might at once be joined to the class in question, and directed to take the same lesson. In the same manner the other classes would pass in review before the teacher; and he would obtain a memorandum of the usual order of exercises, and in a short time set all his pupils at work preparing for the lessons of the next day. He would be much aided in this by the previous knowledge which he would have obtained by private conversation, as recommended under a former head. Some individual cases would require a little special attention, such as new scholars; small children, &c.; but he would be able, before a great while, to look around him and see his whole school busy with the work he had assigned them, and his own time for the rest of the morning, in a great degree, at his own command. I ought to say, however, that it is not probable that he would long continue these arrangements unaltered. In hearing the different classes, he would watch for opportunities for combining them, or discontinuing those where the number was small,--he would alter the times of recitation, and group individual scholars into classes, so as to bring the school, in a very short time, into a condition corresponding more nearly with his own views. All this can be done very easily and pleasantly when the wheels are once in motion; for a school is like a ship in one respect,--most easily steered in the right direction, when under sail. By this plan also the teacher obtains what is almost absolutely necessary at the commencement of his labors, time for _observation_. It is of the first importance that he should become acquainted, as early as possible, with the characters of the boys, especially to learn who those are which are most likely to be troublesome. There always will be a few, who will require special watch and care, and generally there will be only a few. A great deal depends on finding these individuals out, in good season, and bringing the pressure of a proper authority to bear upon them soon. By the plan I have recommended, of not attempting to remodel the school wholly at once, the teacher obtains time for noticing the pupils, and learning something about their individual characters. In fact, so important is this, that it is the plan of some teachers, whenever they commence a new school, to let the boys have their own way, almost entirely, for a few days, in order to find out fully who the idle and mischievous are. This is perhaps going a little too far; but it is certainly desirable to enjoy as many opportunities for observation as can be secured on the first few days of the school. 6. Make it then a special object of attention, during the first day or two, to discover who the idle and mischievous individuals are. They will have generally seated themselves together in little knots, for as they are aware that the new teacher does not know them, they will imagine that, though perhaps separated before, they can now slip together again, without any trouble. It is best to avoid, if possible, an open collision with any of them at once, in order that they may be the better observed. Whenever, therefore, you see idleness or play, endeavour to remedy the evil for the time, by giving the individual something special to do, or by some other measure, without however seeming to notice the misconduct. Continue thus adroitly to stop every thing disorderly, while at the same time you notice and remember where the tendencies to disorder exist. By this means the individuals who would cause most of the trouble and difficulty in the discipline of the school will soon betray themselves, and those too, whose fidelity and good behaviour can be relied upon, will also be known. The names of the former should be among the first which the teacher learns, and their characters should be among the first which he studies. The most prominent among them, those apparently most likely to make trouble, he should note particularly, and make inquiries out of school respecting them,--their characters,--their education at home, &c., so as to become acquainted with them as early and as fully as possible;--for he must have this full acquaintance with them before he is prepared to commence any decided course of discipline with them. The teacher often does irreparable injury by rash action at the outset. He sees, for instance, a boy secretly eating an apple which he has concealed in his hand, and which he bites, with his book before his mouth, or his head under the lid of his desk. It is perhaps the first day of the school, and the teacher thinks he had better make an example at the outset, and calls the boy out, knowing nothing about his general character, and inflicts some painful or degrading punishment before all the school. A little afterwards, as he becomes gradually acquainted with the boy, he finds that he is of mild, gentle disposition, generally obedient and harmless, and that his offence was only an act of momentary thoughtlessness, arising from some circumstances of peculiar temptation at the time, a boy in the next seat perhaps had just before handed him the apple. The teacher regrets, when too late, the hasty punishment. He perceives that instead of having the influence of salutary example upon the other boys, it must have shocked their sense of justice, and excited dislike towards a teacher so quick and severe, rather than of fear of doing wrong themselves. It would be safer to postpone such decided measures a little,--to avoid all open collisions if possible for a few days. In such a case as the above, the boy might be kindly spoken to in an under-tone, in such a way as to show both the teacher's sense of the impropriety of disorder, and also his desire to avoid giving pain to the boy. If it then turns out that the individual is ordinarily a well-disposed boy, all is right, and if he proves to be habitually disobedient and troublesome, the lenity and forbearance exercised at first, will facilitate the effect aimed at by subsequent measures. Avoid then, for the few first days, all open collision with any of your pupils, that you may have opportunity for minute and thorough observation. And here the young teacher ought to be cautioned against a fault which beginners are very prone to fall into, that of forming unfavorable opinions of some of their pupils from their air and manner, before they see any thing in their conduct which ought to be disapproved. A boy or girl comes to the desk to ask a question, or make a request, and the teacher sees in the cast of countenance, or in the bearing or tone of the individual, something indicating a proud, or a sullen, or an ill-humored disposition, and conceives a prejudice, often entirely without foundation, which weeks perhaps do not wear away. Every experienced teacher can recollect numerous cases of this sort, and he learns, after a time, to suspend his judgment. Be cautious therefore on this point, and in the survey of your pupils which you make during the first few days of your school, trust to nothing but the most sure and unequivocal evidences of character; for many of your most docile and faithful pupils will be found among those whose appearance at first prepossessed you strongly against them. One other caution ought also to be given. Do not judge too severely in respect to the ordinary cases of misconduct in school. The young teacher almost invariably does judge too severely. While engaged himself in hearing a recitation, or looking over a "sum," he hears a stifled laugh, and, looking up, sees the little offender struggling with the muscles of his countenance to restore their gravity. The teacher is vexed at the interruption, and severely rebukes or punishes the boy,--when, after all, the offence, in a moral point of view, was an exceedingly light one; at least it might very probably have been so. In fact, a large proportion of the offences against order committed in school are the mere momentary action of the natural buoyancy and life of childhood. This is no reason why they should be indulged, or why the order and regularity of the school should be sacrificed, but it should prevent their exciting feelings of anger or impatience, or very severe reprehension. While the teacher should take effectual measures for restraining all such irregularities, he should do it with the tone and manner which will show that he understands their true moral character, and deals with them, not as heinous sins which deserve severe punishment, but as serious inconveniences which he is compelled to repress. There are often cases of real moral turpitude in school,--such as where there is intentional, wilful mischief, or disturbance, or habitual disobedience, and there may even be, in some cases, open rebellion. Now the teacher should show that he distinguishes these cases from such momentary acts of thoughtlessness as we have described; and a broad distinction ought to be made in the treatment of them. In a word then,--what we have been recommending under this head is, that the teacher should make it his special study, for his first few days in school, to understand the characters of his pupils,--to learn who are the thoughtless ones, who the mischievous, and who the disobedient and rebellious;--and to do this with candid, moral discrimination, and with as little open collision with individuals as possible. 8. Another point to which the teacher ought to give his early attention, is to separate the bad boys as soon as he can, from one another. The idleness and irregularity of children in school often depends more on accidental circumstances than on character. Two boys may be individually harmless and well disposed, and yet they may be of so mercurial a temperament, that, together, the temptation to continual play will be irresistible. Another case that more often happens, is, where one is actively and even intentionally bad, and is seated next to an innocent but perhaps thoughtless boy, and contrives to keep him always in difficulty. Now remove the former away, where there are no very frail materials for him to act upon, and place the latter where he is exposed to no special temptation, and all would be well. This is all very obvious, and known familiarly to all teachers who have had any experience. But beginners are not generally so aware of it at the outset as to make any direct and systematic efforts to examine the school with reference to its condition in this respect. It is usual to go on, leaving the boys to remain seated as chance or their own inclinations grouped them, and to endeavour to keep the peace among the various neighbourhoods, by close supervision, rebukes, and punishment. Now these difficulties may be very much diminished, by looking a little into the arrangement of the boys at the outset, and so modifying it as to diminish the amount of temptation to which the individuals are exposed. This should be done, however, cautiously, deliberately, and with good nature;--keeping the object of it a good deal out of view. It must be done cautiously and deliberately, for the first appearances are exceedingly fallacious in respect to the characters of the different children. You see perhaps some indications of play between two boys upon the same seat, and hastily conclude that they are disorderly boys and must be separated. Something in the air and manner of one or both of them confirms this impression, and you take the necessary measures at once. You then find, when you become more fully acquainted with them, that the appearances which you observed were only momentary and accidental, and that they would have been as safe together as any two boys in the school. And perhaps you will even find, that, by their new position, you have brought one or the other into circumstances of peculiar temptation. Wait, therefore, before you make such changes, till you have ascertained _actual character_,--doing this, however, without any unnecessary delay. In such removals, too, it is well, in many cases, to keep the motive and design of them as much as possible out of view. For by expressing suspicion of a boy, you injure his character in his own opinion, and in that of others, and tend to make him reckless. Besides, if you remove a boy from a companion whom he likes, avowedly to prevent his playing, you offer him an inducement, if he is a bad boy, to continue to play in his new position for the purpose of thwarting you, or from the influence of resentment. It would be wrong indeed to use any subterfuge, or duplicity of any kind, to conceal your object,--but you are not bound to explain it, and in the many changes which you will be compelled to make, in the course of the first week, for various purposes, you may include many of these, without explaining particularly the design or intention of any of them. In some instances, however, you may frankly state the whole case, without danger, provided it is done in such a manner as not to make the boy feel that his character is seriously injured in your estimation. It must depend upon the tact and judgment of the teacher, to determine upon the particular course to be pursued in the several cases, though he ought to keep these general principles in view in all. In one instance, for example, he will see two boys together, James and Joseph we will call them, exhibiting a tendency to play, and after inquiring into their characters he will find that they are good-natured, pleasant boys, and that he had better be frank with them on the subject. He calls one of them to his desk, and perhaps the following dialogue ensues. "James, I am making some changes in the seats, and thought of removing you to another place. Have you any particular preference for that seat?" The question is unexpected, and James hesitates. He wants to sit next to Joseph, but doubts whether it is quite prudent to avow it,--so he says slowly and with hesitation, "No sir,--I do not know that I have." "If you have any reason, I wish you would tell me frankly, for I want you to have such a seat as will be pleasant to you." James does not know what to say. Encouraged, however, by the good-humored tone and look which the master assumes, he says, timidly, "Joseph and I thought we should like to sit together,--if you are willing." "Oh,--you and Joseph are particular friends then, I suppose." "Why,--yes sir." "I am not surprised then, that you want to sit together,--though, to tell the truth, that is rather a reason why I should separate you." "Why sir?" "Because I have observed that when two great friends are seated together, they are always more apt to whisper and play.--Have not you observed it?" "Why,--yes sir." "You may go and ask Joseph to come here." When the two boys make their appearance again, the teacher continues. "Joseph, James tells me that you and he want to sit together, and says you are particular friends. But I tell him," he adds, smiling, "that that is rather a reason for separating you. Now if I should put you both into different parts of the school, next to boys that you are not acquainted with, it would be a great deal easier for you to be still and studious than it is now. Do not you think so yourselves?" The boys look at one another and smile. "However, there is one way you can do. You can guard against the extra temptation by extra care; and on the whole, as I believe you are pretty good boys, I will let you have your choice. You may stay as you are, and make extra exertion to be perfectly regular and studious, or I will find seats for you where it will be a great deal easier for you to be so. Which do you think you should rather do?" The boys hesitate, look at one another, and presently say that they had rather sit together. "Well," said the teacher, "it is immaterial to me whether you sit together or apart, if you are only good boys. So you may take your seats and try it a little while. If you find it too hard work to be studious and orderly together, I can make a change hereafter. I shall soon see." Such a conversation will have many good effects. It will make the boys expect to be watched, without causing them to feel that their characters have suffered. It will stimulate them to great exertion to avoid all misconduct, and it will prepare the way for separating them afterwards without awakening feelings of resentment, if the experiment of their sitting together should fail. * * * * * Another case would be managed perhaps in a little different way, where the tendency to play was more decided. After speaking to the individuals mildly, two or three times, you see them again at play. You ask them to wait that day after school and come to your desk. They have, then, the rest of the day to think occasionally of the difficulty they have brought themselves into, and the anxiety and suspense which they will naturally feel, will give you every advantage for speaking to them with effect;--and if you should be engaged a few minutes with some other business, after school, so that they should have to stand a little while in silent expectation, waiting for their turn, it would contribute to the permanence of the effect. "Well, boys," at length you say, with a serious but frank tone of voice, "I saw you playing in a disorderly manner to-day. And in the first place I want you to tell me honestly all about it. I am not going to punish you,--but I want you to be open and honest about it. What were you doing?" The boys hesitate. "George, what did you have in your hand?" "A piece of paper." "And what were you doing with it?" _George._ "William was trying to take it away from me." "Was there any thing on it?" "Yes sir." "What?" George looks down a little confused. _William._ "George had been drawing some pictures on it. "I see each of you are ready to tell of the other's fault, but it would be much more honorable if each was open in acknowledging his own. Have I ever had to speak to you before for playing together in school?" "Yes sir, I believe you have," says one, looking down. "More than once?" "Yes sir." "More than twice?" "I do not recollect exactly,--I believe you have." "Well, now, what do you think I ought to do next?" The boys have nothing to say. "Do you prefer sitting together, or are you willing to have me separate you?" "We should rather sit together, sir, if you are willing," says George. "I have no objection to your sitting together, if you could only resist the temptation to play. I want all the boys in the school to have pleasant seats." There is a pause,--the teacher hesitating what to do. "Suppose now I were to make one more experiment, and let you try to be good boys in your present seat, would you really try?" "Yes sir."--"Yes sir, we will," are the replies. "And if I should find that you still continue to play, and should have to separate you, will you move into your new seats pleasantly, and with good humor, feeling that I have done right about it?" "Yes sir, we will." * * * * * Thus it will be seen that there may be cases where the teacher may make arrangements for separating his scholars, on an open and distinct understanding with them in respect to the cause of it. We have given these cases not that exactly such ones will be very likely to occur, or that when they do, the teacher is to manage them in exactly the way here described, but to exhibit more clearly to the reader than could be done by any general description, the spirit and tone which a teacher ought to assume towards his pupils. We wished to exhibit this in contrast with the harsh and impatient manner, which teachers too often assume in such a case;--as follows. "John Williams and Samuel Smith, come here to me," exclaims the master, in a harsh, impatient tone, in the midst of the exercises of the afternoon. The scholars all look up from their work;--the culprits slowly rise from their seats, and with a sullen air come down to the floor. "You are playing, boys, all the time, and I will not have it. John, do you take your books and go and sit out there by the window, and, Samuel, you come and sit here on this front seat,--and if I catch you playing again I shall certainly punish you severely." The boys make the move, with as much rattling and disturbance as is possible without furnishing proof of wilful intention to make a noise, and when they get their new seats, and the teacher is again engaged upon his work, they exchange winks and nods, and, in ten minutes, are slyly cannonading each other with paper balls. * * * * * In regard to all the directions that have been given under this head, I ought to say again before concluding it, that they are mainly applicable to the case of beginners, and of small schools. The general principles are, it is true, of universal application, but it is only where a school is of moderate size that the details of position, in respect to individual scholars, can be minutely studied. More summary processes are necessary, I am aware, when the school is very large, and the time of the teacher is incessantly engaged. 9. In some districts in New England, the young teacher will find one or more boys, generally among the larger ones, who will come to the school with the express determination to make a difficulty if they can. The best way is generally to face these individuals at once, in the most direct and open manner, and, at the same time, with perfect good humor, and kindness of feeling and deportment towards them personally. An example or two will best illustrate what I mean. A teacher heard a rapping noise repeatedly, one day, just after he had commenced his labors, under such circumstances as to lead him to suppose it was designed. He did not appear to notice it, but remained after school until the scholars had all gone, and then made a thorough examination. He found at length a broken place in the plastering, where a _lath_ was loose, and a string was tied to the end of it, and thence carried along the wall under the benches, to the seat of a mischievous boy, and fastened to a nail. By pulling the string he could spring the lath, and then let it snap back to its place. He left every thing as it was, and the next day while engaged in a lesson, he heard the noise again. He rose from his seat. The scholars all looked up from their books. "Did you hear that noise?" said he. "Yes sir." "Do you know what it is?" "No sir." "Very well, I only wanted to call your attention to it. I may perhaps speak of it again, by and by." He then resumed his exercise as if nothing had happened. The guilty boy was agitated and confused, and was utterly at a loss to know what to do. What could the teacher mean? Had he discovered the trick?--and if so what _was_ he going to do? He grew more and more uneasy, and resolved that, at all events, it was best for him to retreat. Accordingly, at the next recess, as the teacher had anticipated, he went slyly to the lath, cut the string, then returned to his seat, and drew the line in, rolled it up, and put it in his pocket. The teacher, who was secretly watching him, observed the whole manoeuvre. At the close of the school, when the books were laid aside, and all was silence, he treated the affair thus. "Do you remember the noise to which I called your attention early this afternoon? "Yes, sir." "I will explain it to you now. One of the boys tied a string to a loose lath in the side of the room, and then having the end of it at his seat, he was pulling it, to make a noise to disturb us." The scholars all looked astonished, and then began to turn round towards one another to see who the offender could be. The culprit began to tremble. "He did it several times yesterday, and would have gone on doing it, had I not spoken about it to-day. Do you think this was wrong or not?" "Yes sir;" "wrong;" "wrong;" are the replies. "What harm does it do?" "It interrupts the school." "Yes. Is there any other harm?" The boys hesitate. "It gives me trouble and pain. Should you not suppose it would?" "Yes sir." "Have I ever treated any boy or girl in this school unjustly or unkindly?" "No sir;" "No sir." "Then why should any boy or girl wish to give me trouble or pain?" There was a pause. The guilty individual expected that the next thing would be to call him out for punishment. "Now what do you think I ought to do with such a boy?" No answer. "Perhaps I ought to punish him, but I am very unwilling to do that. I concluded to try another plan, to treat him with kindness and forbearance. So I called your attention to it this afternoon, to let him know that I was observing it, and to give him an opportunity to remove the string. And he did. He went in the recess and cut off the string. I shall not tell you his name, for I do not wish to injure his character. All I want is to have him a good boy." A pause. "I think I shall try this plan; for he must have some feelings of honor and gratitude, and if he has, he certainly will not try to give me pain or trouble win after this. And now I shall say no more about it, nor think any more about it; only, to prove that it is all as I say, if you look there under that window, after school, you will see the lath with the end of the string round it, and by pulling it, you can make it snap." * * * * * Another case, a little more serious in its character, is the following. A teacher having had some trouble with a rude and savage-looking boy, made some inquiry respecting him out of school, and incidentally learned that he had once or twice before openly rebelled against the authority of the school, and that he was now, in the recesses, actually preparing a club with which he was threatening to defend himself, if the teacher should attempt to punish him. The next day, soon after the boys had gone out, he took his hat and followed them, and turning round a corner of the schoolhouse, found the boys standing around the young rebel, who was sitting upon a log, shaving the handle of the club smooth, with his pocket-knife. He was startled at the unexpected appearance of the teacher, and the first impulse was to hide his club behind him, but it was too late, and supposing that the teacher was ignorant of his designs, he went on sullenly with his work, feeling, however, greatly embarrassed. "Pleasant day, boys," said the teacher. "This is a fine sunny nook for you to talk in." "Seems to me, however, you ought to have a better seat than this old log," continued he, taking his seat at the same time by the side of the boy. "Not so bad a seat, however, after all. What are you making, Joseph?" Joseph mumbled out something inarticulate by way of reply. "I have got a sharper knife," said he, drawing his penknife out of his pocket. And then, "Let me try it," he continued, gently taking the club out of Joseph's hand. The boys looked surprised, some exchanged nods and winks, others turned away to conceal a laugh; but the teacher engaged in conversation with them, and soon put them all at their ease, except poor Joseph, who could not tell how this strange interview was likely to end. In the mean time the teacher went on shaving the handle smooth, and rounding the ends. "You want," said he, "a rasp or coarse file for the ends, and then you could finish it finely. But what are you making this formidable club for?" Joseph was completely at a loss what to say. He began to show evident marks of embarrassment and confusion. "I know what it is for; it is to defend yourself against me with, is it not, boys?" said he, appealing to the others. A faint "yes sir," or two, was the reply. "Well now, Joseph, it will be a great deal better for us both to be friends than to be enemies. You had better throw this club away, and save yourself from punishment by being a good boy. Come now," said he, handing him back his club, "throw it over into the field as far as you can, and we will all forget that you ever made it." Joseph sat the picture of shame and confusion. Better feelings were struggling for admission, and the case was decided by a broad-faced, good-natured-looking boy, who stood by his side saying almost involuntarily, "Better throw it, Joe." The club flew, end over end, into the field. Joseph returned to his allegiance, and never attempted to rise in rebellion again. The ways by which boys engage in open, intentional disobedience, are, of course, greatly varied, and the exact treatment will depend upon the features of the individual case. But the frankness, the openness, the plain dealing, and the kind and friendly tone, which it is the object of the foregoing illustrations to exhibit, should characterize all. 11. We have already alluded to the importance of a delicate regard for the _characters_ of the boys, in all the measures of discipline adopted at the commencement of a school. This is in fact of the highest importance at all times, and is peculiarly so at the outset. A wound to the feelings is sometimes inflicted by a single transaction, which produces a lasting injury to the character. Children are very sensitive to ridicule or disgrace, and some are most acutely so. A cutting reproof administered in public, or a punishment which exposes the individual to the gaze of others, will often burn far more deeply into the heart than the teacher imagines. And it is often the cause of great and lasting injury too. By destroying the character of a pupil, you make him feel that he has nothing more to lose or gain, and destroy that kind of interest in his own moral condition, which alone will allure him to virtuous conduct. To expose children to public ridicule or contempt, tends either to make them sullen and despondent, or else to arouse their resentment and to make them reckless and desperate. Most persons remember through life, some instances in their early childhood, in which they were disgraced or ridiculed at school; and the permanence of the recollection is a test of the violence of the effect. Be very careful then to avoid, especially at the commencement of the school, publicly exposing those who do wrong. Sometimes you may make the offence public, as in the case of the snapping of the lath described under a former head, while you kindly conceal the name of the offender. Even if the school generally understand who he is, the injury of public exposure is almost altogether avoided, for the sense of disgrace does not come nearly so vividly home to the mind of a child, from hearing occasional allusions to his offence by individuals among his play-mates, as when he feels himself at a particular time the object of universal attention and dishonor. And then besides, if the pupil perceives that the teacher is tender of his reputation, he will, by a feeling somewhere between imitation and sympathy, begin to feel a little tender of it too. Every exertion should be made therefore, to lead children to value their character, and to help them to preserve it; and especially to avoid, at the beginning, every unnecessary sacrifice of it. And yet there are cases where shame is the very best possible remedy for juvenile faults. If a boy, for example, is self-conceited, bold, and mischievous, with feelings somewhat callous, and an influence extensive and bad, an opportunity will sometimes occur to hold up his conduct to the just reprobation of the school, with great advantage. By this means, if it is done in such a way as to secure the influence of the school on the right side, many good effects are sometimes attained. His pride and self-conceit are humbled,--his bad influence receives a very decided check, and he is forced to draw back at once from the prominent stand he has occupied. Richard Jones; for example, is a rude, coarse, self-conceited boy,--often doing wrong both in school and out, and yet possessed of that peculiar influence which a bad boy often contrives to exert in school. The teacher, after watching some time for an opportunity to humble him, one day overhears a difficulty among the boys, and looking out of the window, observes that he is taking away a sled from one of the little boys, to slide down hill upon, having none of his own. The little boy resists as well as he can, and complains bitterly; but it is of no avail. At the close of the school that day, the teacher commences conversation on the subject as follows. "Boys, do you know what the difference is between stealing and robbery?" "Yes sir." "What?" The boys hesitate, and look at one another. "Suppose a thief were to go into a man's store in the day time, and take away something secretly, would it be stealing or robbery?" "Stealing." "Suppose he should meet him in the road and take it away by force?" "Then it would be robbery." "Yes; when that which belongs to another is taken secretly, it is called stealing; when it is taken openly or with violence, it is called robbery. Which now do you think is the worst?" "Robbery." "Yes, for it is more barefaced and determined--then it gives a great deal more pain to the one who is injured. To-day I saw one of the boys in this school taking away another boy's sled, openly and with violence." The boys all look round towards Richard. "Was that of the nature of stealing or robbery?" "Robbery," say the boys. "Was it real robbery?" They hesitate. "If any of you think of any reason why it was not real robbery, you may name it." "He gave the sled back to him," says one of the boys. "Yes. And therefore to describe the action correctly, we should not say Richard robbed a boy of his sled, but that he robbed him of his sled _for a time_, or he robbed him of the use of his sled. Still, in respect to the nature and the guilt of it, it was robbery." "There is another thing which ought to be observed about it. Whose sled was it that Richard took away?" "James Thompson's." "James, you may stand up." "Notice his size, boys,--I should like to have Richard Jones stand up too, so that you might compare them; but I presume he feels very much ashamed of what he has done, and it would be very unpleasant for him to stand up. You all remember, however, how large he is. Now when I was a boy, it used to be considered dishonorable and cowardly for a large, strong boy to abuse a little one who cannot defend himself. Is it considered so now?" "Yes sir." "It ought to be, certainly; though, were it not for such a case as this, we should not have thought of considering Richard Jones a coward. It seems he did not dare to try to take away a sled from a boy who was as big as himself, but attacked little James, for he knew he was not strong enough to defend himself." * * * * * Now, in some such cases as this, great good may be done both in respect to the individual, and to the state of public sentiment in school, by openly exposing a boy's misconduct. The teacher must always take care, however, that the state of mind and character in the guilty individual, is such that public exposure is adapted to work well as a remedy, and also that in managing it he carries the sympathies of the other boys with him. To secure this, he must avoid all harsh and exaggerated expressions, or direct reproaches, and while he is mild and gentle and forbearing himself, lead the boys to understand and feel the nature of the sin which he exposes. The opportunities for doing this to advantage will, however, be rare. Generally it will be best to manage cases of discipline more privately, so as to protect the characters of those that offend. * * * * * The teacher should thus, in accordance with the directions we have given, commence his labors with careful circumspection, patience, frankness, and honest good will towards every individual of his charge. He will find less difficulty at the outset than he would have expected, and soon have the satisfaction of perceiving that a mild but most efficient government is quietly and firmly established in the little kingdom over which he is called to reign. * * * * * Transcriber's Note: Summarized here are the corrections applied to the text. We can then see how much improvement has been "improvement" was printed as "impovement" at his own discretion, waive it. "waive" was printed as "wave" evil consequences will result "consequences" was printed as "conquences" between the boys of a town school and an academy "academy" was printed as "acadamy" sits at the curtained desk "sits" was printed as "sists" Proposed, that a music committee be appointed "that" was printed as "That" misspelled word "misspelled" was printed as "mispelled" in periodicals devoted to education "devoted" was printed as "dovoted" are cases of discipline "discipline" was printed as "dicipline" 
32355	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 32355-h.htm or 32355-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32355/32355-h/32355-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32355/32355-h.zip) WITH THE CHILDREN ON SUNDAYS Through Eye-Gate and Ear-Gate into the City of Child-Soul [Illustration] by SYLVANUS STALL, D. D. Author of "What a Young Boy Ought to Know," "What a Young Man Ought to Know," etc., "Methods of Church Work," "Faces Toward the Light," etc., etc. This book is published and sold exclusively in the United States by The Uplift Publishing Company Philadelphia, Pa. Copyright, 1911, by Sylvanus Stall. Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England. Protected by International copyright in Great Britain and all her colonies, and, under the provisions of the Berne Convention, in Belgium, France, Germany, England, Spain, Switzerland, Tunis, Hayti, Luxembourg, Monaco, Montenegro and Norway. All rights reserved. [Printed in the United States.] Copyright, 1893, by Sylvanus Stall. Copyright, 1896, by Sylvanus Stall. Copyright, 1907, by Sylvanus Stall. All the drawings and color-pictures in this took have been specially prepared by C. M. Burd, of New York City, for exclusive use in these pages. Each of these has been copyrighted in the United States and throughout Europe, and all copyright privileges are reserved. [Illustration: SYLVANUS STALL, D.D.] DEDICATED TO PARENTS AND CHILDREN WHO DESIRE TO MAKE SUNDAY THE HAPPIEST AND MOST IMPRESSIVE DAY OF THE WEEK. CONTENTS PAGE. PREFACE 9 SUGGESTIONS TO PARENTS 17 1. OYSTER AND CRAB--Conscience 27 2. WORM IN THE APPLE--Sin in the Human Heart 33 3. WAYSIDE WEEDS AND GARDEN FLOWERS--Neglected vs. Christian Children 38 4. NUTS--God Means that We Must Work 46 5. BANKS--Gathered and Guarded Treasures 51 6. CHART--Avoiding Dangers 56 7. ANCHOR--Hope that Lays Hold of Christ 61 8. HUSKS--The Disappointed Pleasure Seeker 66 9. IRON, LOW GRADE AND HIGH GRADE--Character and Worth 75 10. A POCKET RULE--How God Measures Men 81 11. THE MAGNET--Jesus the Great Drawing Power 86 12. KEYS--How to Unlock the Human Heart 92 13. TRAPS--Unsuspecting Mice and Men 97 14. BREAD--Universal Soul Hunger 102 15. THE STONE--The Natural and Changed Heart 107 16. THE POLISHED STONE--Perfection Through Suffering 112 17. ROPES--Habits and How They Become Strong 120 18. WATCH AND CASE--Soul and Body 125 19. PEARLS--One of Great Price 130 20. COAL AND WOOD--Jesus the Source of Spiritual Light and Warmth 135 21. LANTERNS--The Best Light for Our Path 140 22. CANDLES--How to Reflect, Obscure or Extinguish the Light 145 23. A BROKEN CHAIN--Breaking the Whole Law 151 24. LOOKING-GLASS--Seeing Ourselves in God's Law 156 25. RAIN--God's Wisdom and Power 161 26. SNOW--Lessons Which it Teaches 168 27. PLASTIC FACE--Character in the Countenance 174 28. SEEDS--Thoughts, Word, Deeds,--Their Life and Perpetuity 179 29. SOWING--The Spring Time of Life 185 30. REAPING--The Harvest Time of Life 192 31. WHEAT AND CHAFF--The Coming Separation 198 32. THE HEART--The Most Wonderful Pump in the World 204 33. THE EYE--The Most Valuable and Most Wonderful Telescope 210 34. THE EYE--Smallest Camera, Most Valuable Pictures 217 35. FROGS--The Plagues of Egypt 222 36. BLOOD--The Feast of the Passover 228 37. PINE BRANCH--The Feast of Tabernacles 234 38. LEAVES--The Lessons Which They Teach 240 39. THE TURTLE--Man Like and Yet Unlike the Animals 246 40. GRASSHOPPER AND ANT--Negligence and Industry 252 41. BALANCES--How God Weighs People 260 42. WHITE AND CHARRED STICKS--Good and Bad Company 267 43. DOGS--The Dogs of St. Bernard 272 44. THE CAMERA--God's Picture Book 279 45. THE PHONOGRAPH--Books that Talk 285 46. MAGNET AND NEEDLE--God's Guiding Hand 290 47. FISH IN AQUARIUM--The All-Seeing Eye of God 295 48. THE CLOCK--Measuring Time 300 49. PLANS--Living with a Purpose 307 50. THE CHRISTMAS TREE--The Lessons Which It Teaches 311 51. EASTER SUNDAY--The Resurrection of the Body 318 52. CROWNS--We Are Children of the King 325 A WORD TO PARENTS 331 PRESS NOTICES 332 PREFACE. SUNDAY ought to be the most cheerful, sunniest, happiest and best day of the week in every home. In most homes it is the dullest and most dreary day of the week to the children, and the most taxing and the most wearying to the parents, especially to the mother. It not only ought to be, but it can be made, not only the brightest and happiest but also the most influential in the character-building and religious training of the children. In some households Sunday is looked forward to with anticipations of pleasure throughout the entire week. In these homes, the father does not come down stairs on Sunday morning and say: "Now, children, gather up those flowers, throw them out of the window, pull down the blinds, get down the Bible and we will have an awful solemn time here to-day." Neither is the day given to frivolity or the home to demoralizing influences. From morning until night there are two great principles that govern; first, the sacredness of the day, and second, the sacredness of the God-given nature of childhood. The day is not spent in repressing the child nature by a succession of "don't do that," "now stop that," etc., that begin in the morning and continue throughout the day, and end only when the little ones lose consciousness in sleep on Sunday night. In these homes, the parents recognize the fact that the child nature is the same whether the day is secular or sacred. On Sunday the child nature is not repressed, but the childish impulses are directed into channels suited to the sacredness of the day. In such homes the children, instead of being sorry that it is Sunday, are glad; instead of regretting the return of the day with dislike and dread, they welcome it as the brightest, the cheeriest and the best of all the week. The purpose of the author in the preparation of this book in its present illustrated and slightly changed form, is to afford all parents a valuable aid in making Sunday not only the brightest, happiest and best day of the entire week for both parents and children, but also to aid the parents to make Sunday pre-eminently the day around which shall cluster throughout the entire life of each child the sweetest, tenderest and most sacred recollections of childhood, of father and mother and of brother and sister, and especially of their knowledge of the Bible and of everything sacred. Did it ever occur to you, as a parent, that between the birth and the age of twenty-one years there are three solid years of Sundays--an amount of time almost equal to the number of years given to an entire course of college training? The Creator has not laid upon parents the responsibilities of parenthood without giving them ample time and opportunity to discharge these obligations to Him, to themselves, and to their children. The idea which has been successfully demonstrated in hundreds of homes, where the impulses and natural inclinations of childhood have been turned into sacred channels on Sundays so as to enable the parents to teach spiritual truths in the most effective manner, is the method which is suggested by the author to the parents in the use, on Sunday afternoons, of the fifty-two little sermons given in this volume. The parent who fails to use wisely the opportunities of Sunday afternoons for impressing the children with spiritual truths, loses the greatest opportunity that family life affords. Among the different instances known to the author, the following three may serve as illustrations of what may be found in many communities: I knew a mother who regularly on Sunday afternoons gathered her children about her and read them religious books and literature. In her considerable family, every child became eminently useful. One, who was a university professor, told me that those Sunday afternoons with his mother in the nursery embodied the most formative influences of his life. I know another family, of some seven or eight children, where Sunday was always used for religious instruction with the children. With the reading and other things, they always "played church", and the experience of those early childhood days made the boys splendid public talkers, and the girls were also very capable in the same direction. No better school of oratory was ever organized. I know another family of four children, where the entire family looked forward throughout the week to the special and larger pleasure which Sunday always brought. They grew up naturally into a religious life, and developed that ability for public address and service which could not so well be gained in any other way. Sunday is about the only day in most of households where the father is home with his family. It adds greatly to the pleasure and impressiveness of the day and its services if the father, with the mother, enters heartily into the spirit of that which will be all the more enjoyed by the children. It will enable him also to stamp his personality deeper into the character of his children than possibly any other opportunity which may be afforded him in life. These brief object talks grew out of the necessities found in the author's own parish. When called to the pastorate of the Second English Lutheran Church, of Baltimore, I found a depleted congregation, while at the same time the Sunday-school was one of the largest and most flourishing in the city. It was then for the first time that I introduced regularly the preaching of "Five-minute object sermons" before the accustomed sermon on Sunday morning. In a very brief period, about one-fourth of the infant department and two-thirds of the main department of the school were in regular attendance upon the Sunday morning service, and, even after this particular form of address had been discontinued, the teachers and scholars continued regularly to come direct from the morning session of the school to the services of the church. These sermons were preached without notes, were subsequently outlined and then spoken into the phonograph, put in manuscript by a phonographer, and, that the simplicity of style and diction might be preserved, were printed with only slight verbal changes. The objects used in illustrating these talks have been chosen from among the ordinary things of every-day life. Such objects have the advantage of being easily secured, and on account of their familiarity also prove more impressive, and being more often seen, more frequently recall to mind the truths taught. To any thoughtful student who has marked the simple language and beautiful illustrations used by that Great Preacher and Teacher who "spake as never man spake," it will be unnecessary to say a single word in justification of this method of presenting abstruse truths to the easy comprehension of the young. Upon all occasions Jesus found in the use of the ordinary, every-day things about Him, the easy means of teaching the people the great truths of divine import. The door, the water, the net, the vine, the flowers which sprang at His feet, the birds that flew over His head, the unfruitful tree that grew by the wayside, the wheat and the tares that grew together in the field, the leaven which a woman hid in three measures of meal, the husbandman pacing his field engaged in sowing his grain, the sheep and the goats which rested together on the slopes waiting to be separated each into their own fold, the old garment mended with a piece of new cloth, the mustard seed, the salt--anything that chanced to be about the Master was used as an illustration, that He might plainly and impressively teach the people the saving truths of redemption and salvation. May we not also reasonably suppose that if Jesus were upon the earth to-day He would still exercise this same distinguishing wisdom in the use of the common, every-day things by which He would now find Himself surrounded? Let it be distinctly understood that this book is not a substitute for the regular services of God's House. I believe in "the Church in the house," but I also believe that the entire family, including the children, should also be in the Church on the Lord's day. The absence of the children from the services of the sanctuary is one of the alarming evils of our day. There are but few congregations where children can be found in any considerable numbers. No one will attempt to deny the sad consequences which must follow as the inevitable results of such a course. The children at eight years of age who have not already begun to form the habit of church attendance, and are not quite thoroughly established in it at sixteen, will stand a very fair chance of spending their entire life with little or no attachment for either the Church or religious things. The non-church going youth of this decade will be the Sabbath-breakers and irreligious people of the next. Who are to blame for this state of affairs, and to whom are we to look for the correction of this existing evil? Manifestly, first of all, to the _parents_. That parental authority which overcomes the indifference of the child and secures his devotion to the irksome duties of secular life, should also be exercised to establish and maintain a similar fidelity to religious duties and spiritual concerns. If left to their own inclinations, children will invariably go wrong in the affairs of both worlds. Attendance upon the church should be expected and required, the same as attendance upon the secular instruction of the schools; for the best interests of the child are not more dependent upon the discipline of the mind than upon the development of the heart. In the formation of the habit of church attendance, it would be well to remind parents that example will be as helpful as precept. They should not send, but take their children to church. They should make room for them in the family pew, provide them with a hymn-book and see that they have something for the collection. Parents owe it to their children to teach them to be reverent in God's house, to bow their heads in prayer, to be attentive to the sermon; and while requiring these things of their children, they should also see well to it that after service, at the table, in the home, or elsewhere nothing disparaging of God's house, message or messenger should fall from their lips upon the ears of their children. As these little talks were originally used before the main sermon on Sunday morning before a mixed audience of adults and a large number of children, it has seemed best, in order to carry out the idea of preaching, that the manner of speaking as though to an audience should be retained in this book. It is better suited than any other method for use also by the parent when reading these pages to the children in the home. The earlier issues of these talks under the title: "Five Minute Object Sermons to Children" and the second volume: "Talks to the King's Children" were accorded a place of usefulness in nearly every land, and the author now sends forth this volume in its present illustrated and slightly revised form for a place in every home, trusting that it may be as influential in the lives of the children of to-day as it has proven in the lives of the children of yesterday. SYLVANUS STALL. [Illustration: DR. STALL WITH HIS DAUGHTER AND HIS GRANDCHILDREN DRIVING TO CHURCH] [Illustration: THE LITTLE PREACHER AND HIS INTERESTED AUDIENCE] [Illustration: LITTLE BILLIE TAKING UP THE COLLECTION] [Illustration: DR. STALL READING TO HIS GRANDCHILDREN] SUGGESTIONS TO PARENTS. HELPFUL METHODS FOR MAKING SUNDAY AFTERNOON WITH THE CHILDREN THE MOST PLEASANT AND PROFITABLE DAY OF THE WEEK. The idea of "playing church" is by no means an innovation. What is shown in the pictures upon a preceding page has been actualized in many homes. Let me quote from a single letter which lies before me: "The writer was one of a large family of children and well remembers the Sunday afternoons spent in his village home. 'Playing church,' was one of its features. The chairs were placed in regular fashion, imitating the seating arrangements of a church, every one of us took his or her turn as preacher, hymns were sung, a real collection was taken and one of us, as preacher, took his text and preached the sermon. There wasn't a dull moment in those good, old Sunday afternoons in our home. Occasionally, the preacher would provoke a smile by his original way of handling the text and of emphasizing some point in his discourse. "We have all grown up since those happy days; some of us attained to a degree of efficiency as public speakers, and we attribute much of our efficiency and character in life to those profitable Sunday afternoon hours." From the experiences of the children as narrated above, the suggestion occurs, why not use these object talks in like manner? "Play church" Sunday afternoons, read an "object sermon," show the illustrations, ask the questions at the end of each chapter and then follow it up with a discussion from the children, giving their ideas and experiences. You will find that you will get as much benefit and entertainment from these Sunday afternoons "playing church" service as the children will. You will be surprised at their interest and the originality that they will display in these discussions. You will be quickening their faculty of observation and stirring their imaginations, in a manner that will surely make observant, thoughtful and considerate men and women of the children, and consequently, affect their entire destinies in the years to come. Then, too, you yourself will be helped mentally and spiritually, because it is absolutely true that in the devotion that we exhibit and the time and attention that we give to our children in this companionship, we will ourselves be receiving large blessings in the development of our own character and the finer characteristics that make for good people. PLAYING CHURCH. The following suggestions will be helpful, to which original ideas may always be added. 1. Make the "Afternoon Church" a real, not frivolous, occasion. The time it requires to make careful, pains-taking preparation on the part of the parent, is always profitably employed. 2. The afternoon church should always be a regular, fixed engagement. It adds to its importance. 3. Do not postpone nor omit it for any trivial reason. Treat it as any other important engagement. 4. When visitors are in the home, invite them to be present and to participate. It will help them as well as the juniors. 5. The fact that there is only one child in the family does not preclude the idea of playing church; for the dolls can be brought to church and even chairs can be converted into imaginary people. 6. Never permit the realness of the occasion to be questioned. Always avoid embarrassing the child and _never_ ridicule. Refrain from laughing at any mistakes that may be made in speech, thought or conduct of the child, unless he first sees the mistake and invites you to join in his mirth. 7. Ask any additional questions pertinent to the subject besides those suggested at the end of each sermon. It will develop wider thought and increase the interest. 8. Encourage the child to ask questions, but always lead in directing the thought. 9. Adults present should always enter seriously and earnestly into the whole program or plan with the child's spirit. Where adults enter upon the execution of the plan with this spirit it adds much to the enjoyment of all. If they cannot do this, they should not participate. 10. A bell can be slowly rung as the time for church approaches. 11. Use the brightest and most cheerful room in the house for the afternoon church. Add to the furnishings on Sunday anything which may make the room even more than ordinarily attractive. 12. Chairs may be suitably arranged and a child can drive the others to and from church in an imaginary carriage, as shown in one of the pictures upon another page. 13. When the church is held in another room, an older child or person can receive the attendants and usher them to seats. 14. Open the church service with singing. Select several simple devotional hymns or songs, such as are used in the primary department of Sunday-schools. Have all the children learn the tunes and teach a verse of each song to any child that cannot read. 15. A collection can be lifted by one of the children. A toy bank may be used in which to save the money received at this child's service, and subsequently contributed through the Church or Sunday-school for missionary purposes. 16. Teach the children the importance of saving from their own spending money, or earning what they wish to give in the collection. 17. This money should always be regarded as sacred, and care should also be exercised lest this little fund might become a source of temptation to the children during the week. 18. At some time during the service a brief prayer should be offered. This may consist of a sentence prayer by each in rotation or by all uniting in the Lord's Prayer, or in some brief selection from the Prayer Book. 19. When a child is willing or wishes to do so, have him preach the sermon in his own way of expressing the thought, using the text or object of the day for his subject. Always give the same interested attention to him that is expected from him when another leads. 20. Some of the objects mentioned in the sermons can be easily and cheaply obtained for use at the church. When such an object is secured, it should not be shown to the children in advance of being used. 21. Do not prolong the service too greatly so as to weary the children. Effectiveness and pleasure usually terminate at the same time. Lend animation to the service and interest will not so soon flag. It is well also to impart interest by having the parent enter heartily into every part of the service. 22. A social period after "returning home" from the "children's church" should be introduced. If the children have played driving to church before the service, the idea should be continued and completed by driving home in the same manner. AFTER CHURCH. 23. After the conclusion of the church service, additional exercises or games suited to the sacredness of the day may be appropriately used to entertain the children and continue their happiness. By methods of this kind, Sunday may be made not only the most profitable, but the brightest and best day of the week. 24. Some light refreshment may be introduced, as fruit, cake or candy. This refreshment should be something very simple and inexpensive, and also something not calculated to spoil the appetite or injure the digestion of the child. In recognition of good conduct, close attention or special help at the church service, one of the children may choose what the refreshment is to be for the next Sunday. This choice should be kept a secret during the week. 25. Pictures and illustrations can be cut from magazines, and these can be pasted in a scrap book or on blank paper to represent Bible characters and scenes, or those used in the sermons. 26. Many acting games and tableaux can be arranged by the children from the sermons and Bible stories. Chairs can be arranged so as to represent a pit or tent, and the children within them may be "Joseph in the Pit" (Genesis xxxvii) or "Daniel in the Lion's Den" (Daniel vi). See illustrations on pages 80 and 91. FOR OLDER CHILDREN. 27. Let one child represent an idol. He must stand motionless and give no sign of life. The others are to ask him questions and for favors. If the "idol" laughs, moves or speaks, he loses and another takes his place. Idols are lifeless things that cannot move, see, hear or speak. 28. Children's blocks are useful in building a well, altar, castle, temple, chariot, etc. Have the children give a text or verse from the Bible referring to the objects builded. A Bible story may be told about the object, its history, use, etc. 29. One child, or more as may be needed, can pose to represent a character or scene. The others are to guess the character represented. For example: A child can sit with hands upheld. A child on each side of him hold up the extended arms. They represent Moses with Aaron and Hur during the battle (Ex. xvii: 12). 30. Charades, or words and scenes may be represented by the children in motion. The children may be divided into groups. One group will select a word and represent it in the presence of the others by motions. For example: Children come into the room and go through the motion of sowing ("Seeds"), reaping ("Harvest"), threshing with a flail ("Wheat and Chaff"), picking flowers ("Weeds and Flowers"), taking pictures ("Eye and Camera"). Many of the sermon subjects may be used in this manner. Cutting stone, measuring, eating husks, washing dirty face, etc. The other groups are to guess the word and have their turn. 31. Children are always fond of riddles; especially when they are able to guess the answer. The suggested review questions at the close of each object sermon for afternoon church, may often be effectively used with slight changes. For example: "What is it that cannot see nor hear, but always knows when danger is near?" The answer is--"The Oyster." What is it which no boy or girl can see or hear, and the approach of which can not be made known by any of the natural senses? (Sin.) What is it which tells us when sin is near? (Conscience.) Have the children try to make up their own riddles from the objects shown and their uses, or lessons learned from the sermons. SLATES AND CRAYONS. 32. Provide slates, or paper and pencils may be provided, and the children draw the object or something suggested by its use. Always have blank paper and pencils on hand for some of the games or exercises mentioned below. 33. Cheap colored crayons can often be used with added value. 34. Each Sunday appoint one child to take charge of the slates, papers and pencils, which are to be kept in a safe place and not disturbed during the week, and then to distribute them on the following Sunday. BUILDING AND WORD GAMES. 35. Word building games are always interesting. Cut small squares of cardboard and plainly mark each with a letter. Many more vowels than consonants will be required. (These little squares with printed letters can be purchased at any toy-store.) Mix up the squares on a table, and the child who spells the largest number of names of places or objects mentioned in the sermons, using the letters on the squares, wins the game. 36. This can be played in a variety of ways. For instance: Select the name of an object, person or place, and the one who first picks out the necessary letters to spell it, is declared the winner. 37. Each child is given the same number of assorted letters and all try to make up the largest list of names from his portion of letters in a given time. BIBLE GUESSES. 38. Tell a Bible story, or review one of the object sermons, omitting the names of characters or objects. Without warning, the one reciting the story stops, and the next player carries on the story if he has been able to guess the omitted names, without mentioning them. If he has not discovered or guessed the right story, the next player takes it up, and so on until the story is completed and everyone knows it. 39. One of the children goes out of the room and the others decide on some object used in a sermon, or a certain thing mentioned in the Bible, which is to be described. For example: A watch, telescope, or the Ark, Joseph's coat of many colors, etc. Upon entering the room, the child may ask all manner of questions which can be answered by "yes" and "no". When the right thing is guessed, another goes out of the room and the game is repeated. Two or more children, or groups, may be the guessers at the same time. 40. The game of thinking is equally interesting. The leader thinks of some character, place or object in the sermons or mentioned in the Bible. The "thinker" then says--"I am thinking of some thing (person or place) and the name begins with 'C' (or the initial letter)." Each of the other players asks a question in turn, that can be answered by "yes" or "no". The questions are continued until some one guesses the name. The one who first guessed the name becomes the leader. 41. Make word pictures by describing persons and scenes without mentioning names. The others are to guess what it is. For example: The leader may say--"I see some ladies walking beside the water. Suddenly they stop and listen. Then one of them wades into the water and finds something," etc. If the picture is not promptly guessed, the story or picture of Pharaoh's daughter finding the baby Moses (Ex. ii: 3) is further described, until the picture is made known. Other stories may be used in the same manner. 42. One or two players go out. The others sit in line and choose a well known proverb, Bible verse, or sentence from the object sermon, having as many words as there are players. Each player having made certain what his word is, the others are called in. It is their duty to put the sentence together. They ask each player in turn a question on any subject, and in answering the player must use the particular word given him. The questions may be continued, and the word must always be used in the answer, until the one guessing has discovered the particular word that player has, and so on until all the words in their order are guessed and the sentence or proverb discovered. In the same way, instead of the questions, the particular word may be acted, as charades, until the person guessing has discovered each word and at length composed the complete sentence. 43. Distribute paper and pencils. Let a single letter be selected and have each child write down the names of characters, objects and places mentioned in the sermons, or the Bible, that have the same initial letter. For example: The letter "A" may be selected, then would follow "Apple", "Adam", "Apostles", "Angels", "Army", "Asia", etc. Other initial letters may be selected and the game continued. 44. Have some one call out and write down a Bible name beginning with "A", as "Abram". The next one is to think of a name beginning with "B", as "Benjamin". "C" would come next, as "Caleb", then "David", "Eli", etc. The object is to see how many letters of the alphabet can be used and how often without repetition. Also names of places, objects and titles may be used. 45. Ask the children to write down as many as they can of trees, or stones, flowers, birds, instruments, animals that are mentioned in the Bible. 46. Bible geography can be made interesting and profitable. Get a shallow box and fill it with fine sand. Cities and countries may be wonderfully made. A small pile of the sand will represent a mountain, strips of blue or white paper can be used for rivers and lakes. Use small blocks and spools for houses and temples, small pebbles for roads. The people can be represented by matches and trees by tiny branches or leaves. When Palestine, for instance, is to be studied, small pieces of paper may be laid on the sand for the cities; the names or initials of the cities should be written on the pieces of paper. 47. Maps may be drawn and colored crayons used to show the roads, water, cities, buildings, etc. 48. From one of the sermons or a Bible story, select the name of a person, place or thing. Have each player write a sentence with the selected name embodied in it. When the sentences are read aloud, it will show quite original uses made of the name. 49. To supply missing letters is an easy, simple game. Write names of sermon objects or Bible characters with letters omitted. The children will enjoy supplying the missing letters necessary to complete the name. Sentences and Bible verses may be used with missing words for the children to supply. BIBLE DRILLS. 50. Bible drills are entertaining and especially valuable to children old enough to read and commit the lessons to memory. By a simple method the children can figure out the books in the Bible and their classifications. By pursuing the studies, the names of the books will soon be learned and in their regular order. 51. Have the children count the letters in "Old" (3) and "Testament" (9). Place them together (39) and it gives the number of books in the Old Testament. 52. Now multiply these two figures (3 � 9) and the result will give the number of books in the New Testament (27). 53. Add together the two sets of figures (39 plus 27) and you will find the whole number of books in the Bible (66). 54. The figure "6" is found in the number of books in the Bible (66), the number of known authors or writers of the books (36), and the number of years during which the Bible was written (1600). Thus we have 36 authors, 66 books, 16 centuries. 55. The books of the Old Testament may be divided into five groups: as the Pentateuch (Books of Moses), History, Poetry, Major Prophets and Minor Prophets. Have the children trace the outline of a hand on paper and the thumb and fingers will represent the groups. Thus, the thumb will represent the Pentateuch; the first finger, the History; the second finger, Poetry; the third finger, Major Prophets; and the fourth finger, Minor Prophets. 56. The New Testament may also be divided into five groups and represented by the other hand in the same manner. The five groups are Biography, History, Pauline Epistles (or Paul's Letters), General Epistles (or letters), and Prophesy. 57. The number of books in each group of the Old Testament are: 5 plus 12 plus 5 plus 5 plus 12--equals 39 books. In the New Testament, the five groups are made up of 4 plus 1 plus 13 plus 8 plus 1--equals 27 books. 58. The name of each group with the number of books in the group, may be written on separate cards. The cards are shuffled and the children sort them and place them together in their proper order, forming the Old Testament, then the New Testament. 59. The names of the different books which make up the groups are looked up and written under the name of the group. Take the groups in their regular order. Thus, group one would be Pentateuch, 5 books: Gen´e-sis, Ex´o-dus, Le-vit´i-cus, Num´bers, Deu´ter-on´o-my. The second and fifth groups, where there are twelve books each, may be subdivided into threes and fours for greater ease in committing to memory. 60. If the proper spelling of the names has also been committed to memory, or learned, then a regular spelling-bee may be held and the names of the Bible books used for the test words. The same tests may be made with the spelling of names of persons, places and things mentioned in the Bible. 61. After the books of the Bible, in their order, have been learned, open the Bible and call out the book at which it is open. Name another book and ask which direction (toward the front or back of the Bible) shall the pages be turned to find that book. Many other test questions may be asked, such as: "What book is between Job and Proverbs?" "In which group is Lamentations to be found?" "Between what books is that of Luke?" 62. Arrange the children in a row, or let them take their places in tents as shown on page 60, and then, as in a spelling-bee, ask the preceding or the following questions, or any other Bible questions that would be suited to the age of the children. When one fails to answer he loses his place and the child who gives the correct answer moves forward. The element of play is thus maintained. BIBLE QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. 63. Who was the first man? Adam. Who was the first woman? Eve. Who was the first murderer? Cain (Gen. iv: 8). Whom did he kill? His brother Abel. Who went to Heaven without dying? Enoch and Elijah. How old was Enoch "when God took him"? 365 years (Gen. v: 23, 24). The same number of years that there are days in a year. Who was the oldest man? Methuselah. How old was Methuselah when he died? 969 years (Gen. v: 27). Who built the Ark? Noah (Gen. vi). How many persons were saved in the Ark? Eight (Gen. vii: 7). Noah and his wife, his three sons and their wives. How old was Noah at the time of the Flood? 600 years (Gen. vii: 6). Who had the coat of many colors? Joseph (Gen. xxxvii: 3). How many brothers did Joseph have? Eleven (Gen. xlii: 3, 4). What did they do with Joseph? Cast him into a pit and afterwards sold him to the Ishmaelitish merchantmen (Gen. xxxvii: 28). Where did the Ishmaelitish merchantmen take Joseph? To Egypt. To whom did they sell him? Potiphar (Gen. xxxix: 1). Who lied about Joseph and had him cast into prison? Potiphar's wife. Who were in the prison with Joseph? The king's chief butler and chief baker (Gen. xl: 1, 3). Who was King of Egypt at the time Joseph was in Egypt? Pharaoh. Why did Pharaoh make Joseph ruler? That he might gather the grain during the seven years of plenty to lay up in store against the seven years of famine. What did Pharaoh dream? About seven fat kine, or cows, and seven lean cows (Gen. xli). What did Joseph do with the grain he gathered during the seven years of plenty? Put in great store houses. Why did his brothers come to Joseph in Egypt during the famine? That they might get food (Gen. xlii). Did his father, Jacob, and family go to live in Egypt? Yes. How old was Joseph when he died? 110 years (Gen. l: 26). How long did Jacob's descendants remain in Egypt? A little more than two hundred years. Why did they desire to leave Egypt? Because of the oppressions and cruelty of Pharaoh (Ex. i: 8, 14). Whom did God raise up to lead the Children of Israel out of Egypt? Moses. How long did they wander in the wilderness? Forty years. Was Moses permitted to enter the Promised Land? No. Who led the Children of Israel into the Land of Canaan, which was the Promised Land? Joshua. How did the Children of Israel cross the Red Sea and the Jordan? The waters were divided and they crossed "dry shod." Who was the strongest man? Samson. Who was the meekest man? Moses. Who, as a ruler, was a man after God's own heart? David. Who built the Temple? Solomon. Who went to Heaven in a chariot of fire? Elijah. On whom did the mantle of Elijah fall? Elisha. Who was swallowed by the great fish? Jonah (Jonah i: 17). Who destroyed the Temple and Jerusalem and carried the Children of Israel into captivity? Nebuchadnezzar (2 Kings 24, 25). Where did he take them? To Babylon (2 Kings 25). How long were they captive in Babylon? Seventy years. Who interpreted Nebuchadnezzar's dream? Daniel. How did Nebuchadnezzar reward Daniel? Made him ruler over Babylon (Daniel ii: 48, 49). What were the names of Daniel's three friends? Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah. What heathen names were given them instead? Shadrach, Meshack and Abednego (Daniel i: 6, 7). What befell the three friends of Daniel? They were cast into the burning fiery furnace. Why were they cast into this furnace? Because they refused to fall down and worship a great golden image which Nebuchadnezzar, the King, had set up in the plain of Dura. Were they consumed in the furnace? No, God delivered them (Daniel iii). What befell Daniel years later, when Darius was King? He was cast into the den of lions (Daniel vi). Why was he cast into the den of lions? Because he prayed to the true God. Did the lions harm Daniel? No, God stopped the mouths of the lions and delivered Daniel. * * * * * _The author's intense interest in the safeguarding and saving of the boys and girls from the evils which have wrought the ruin of such countless multitudes, prompts in connection with this introductory word, to call the special attention of the parents to an advertisement which has been placed at the close of this volume._ Through Eye-Gate and Ear-Gate Into the City of Child-Soul THE OYSTER AND THE CRAB. CONSCIENCE. SUGGESTIONS TO PARENTS:--It will awaken the curiosity and add greatly to the interest of the children if the parent will have them secure during the week preceding a couple of oyster shells. In most of cities and towns, these can be easily obtained. It is better for the children themselves to secure them, because it makes them participants and important factors in what is to be done. Do not tell them in advance what use is to be made of the oyster shells; simply say that they are for use in connection with Sunday afternoon. Introduce the play idea from the beginning. Let the children arrange the chairs to "drive to church," as shown in the preceding pictures. If there are two children who both want to do the driving, suggest that one can drive to church and the other can drive when returning from church--and a third may drive from the house to the stable when the horses are to be put away. At the church service let everything be done reverently, and make it a matter of real worship. One of the children can act as usher, and if there is but one child, this one can usher her dolls to seats; or imaginary people may be shown to seats. All of this will appeal very strongly to the child. Select hymns suited to the children's tastes and such as they can sing. Do not sing too many verses. Children like variety. The service ought to be such as is in harmony with that regularly attended by the parents, and such as the children are familiar with. It may be as informal as the Salvation Army, or a greatly abridged form of the "Episcopal Service" can be used. The Lord's Prayer may be repeated in unison, or sentence prayers used, or a brief selection from the Prayer Book. The preaching by one of the children should precede the reading of the Object sermon. After carrying out the idea of the church service, the other ideas presented may be introduced, and after the imaginary drive home some simple refreshments can be served, as also mentioned in the chapter of "Suggestions to Parents" on page 17. [Illustration: Oyster and Shell.] MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: I want to speak to you to-day about "Having a good conscience." (I Peter iii: 16.) This is rather a hard subject, but I desire to make it plain by the use of a familiar object. "What's this I have in my hand?" I rather expected that you would say an oyster; but, really it is nothing but an oyster shell. I suppose you have all eaten stewed oysters, or oyster broth. I remember, when a little boy, that one day when we had stewed oysters for supper, I found a little yellow something in my broth. I did not know whether my mother had put it in purposely, or whether it had fallen in by accident; whether I should push it aside of my plate, that it might be thrown with the crumbs to the chickens, or whether I should eat it to discover what it was. [Illustration: Little Crab.] I suppose you have all seen these little animals in your soup, and know that they are called crabs. Now, do you know how the crab comes to be in with the oyster? I will tell you how it is. The oyster lives in the water at the bottom of the bay, and some bright day, when the sun is shining down genial and warm, just the same as in the summer, we open the doors, and sit out on the porch to enjoy the cool of the day; so the oyster opens his shells and lets the cool currents of water move gently through his house. But while lying there with his shells wide open, along comes a great hungry fish. He sees the oyster, but the oyster cannot see him. The oyster cannot see, for he has no eyes. He cannot hear, for he has no ears. Of the five senses which each of us have, hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting and feeling, the oyster can only tell of the presence of his enemy when he feels himself being dragged out of his house, and being quickly swallowed by the fish. But his knowledge of what is happening only comes when it is too late. [Illustration: Fish Going to Eat the Oyster.] Now, with the little crab, who also lives in the same neighborhood with the oyster, it is quite different. The crab has eyes, and can see the hungry fish that comes to eat him up. He has legs, with which to try and run away; but the fish can swim so much faster than the little crab can run that he is sure to be devoured before the race is half over. So what do you think the little crab does? He crawls along quietly, and creeps into the shell with the oyster, and the oyster and the crab enter into a kind of partnership for mutual protection. After this, when the oyster opens his shells, the little crab uses his eyes very diligently to look around, and watch for the approach of any fish. As soon as he spies any sly fish coming near, he pinches the oyster, and immediately the oyster closes his shells very tightly, and the oyster and the crab are both within, safely protected from the fish. Now, boys and girls, we are something like the oyster. We are constantly exposed to the danger of being destroyed by sin. We cannot see sin, we cannot hear sin, we cannot perceive it by any of our senses. So God has given us a conscience, which means "to know with God." When you are tempted to do a sinful act, it is conscience that quickly whispers, "Now that is wicked," "If you do that, God will be displeased." Let me illustrate this thought. One real pleasant day, when the birds are singing, and everything is attractive out of doors, Johnnie thinks how hard it is to be studying his lessons in what he calls a prison of a school-room. He knows that papa and mamma will not give him permission to stay at home; so a little before nine o'clock, as he saunters towards the school, Satan suggests to him to play "hookey," and when he comes to the corner of the street, looking back to be sure that no one sees him, he turns the corner to remain out of school, intending to come home at the regular time for dinner and escape discovery. Just as soon as he turns the corner, and even before that, conscience has seen the danger, and whispers strong and clear, "Johnnie, this is wicked; you will surely get into trouble, and you will make papa and mamma sad, and also displease God." Now, if Johnnie does not turn right back when conscience warns him, he is sure to go on without having any pleasure all that forenoon, because his conscience continues to warn and reprove him. [Illustration: "Willie is more frightened than the dog."] Or suppose that Willie goes down the street and sees Mr. Brown's dog a little ways off. He looks around quickly for a stone, and immediately conscience says, "Now, Willie, don't hit the poor dog, for the stone will cause him pain, just as it would if some one were to hit you with a stone." But Willie does not listen to conscience. He throws the stone with all his might. It strikes on the pavement, just by the side of the dog, glances and breaks in many pieces the large plate glass in the window of the drug store. Willie is more frightened than the dog, and without a moment's forethought he runs around the corner, to get out of sight. And after concealing himself for a time in the alley, he steals quietly into the house at the back door. How he dreads to meet his father and mother. Every time the door bell rings he thinks surely that it is the druggist or the policeman. Oh! how this sin pains him; just like the oyster would be hurt if he does not heed the little crab, when he warns him that the fish is coming to destroy him. If Willie had only listened to conscience, what sin and trouble it would have saved him. So, boys and girls, God has given each of us a conscience, and if we want to be saved from sin and suffering, we should always be quick to obey our conscience. Let each of us try and "keep a good conscience." QUESTIONS.--Can the oyster see or hear? Can it feel? What often destroys the oyster? What lives down under the water near the oyster? Can the little crab see? Can he get away from the fish? How does he assist the oyster? How does he warn the oyster of danger? Can boys or girls see sin? What has God given each of us to warn us of danger when sin is near? Does every boy and girl have a conscience? Does conscience always give warning? Do boys and girls always obey their conscience? Should conscience always be obeyed? Will you always try to obey conscience in the future? The parent may ask additional questions or make application in any other manner they deem best. Next Sunday the sermon will be about the worm in the apple. Let one of the children get a nice, large, perfect apple, and also another apple which has been dwarfed and deformed because of a worm inside the apple. These will be the objects which we shall use next Sunday. THE WORM IN THE APPLE. SIN IN THE HUMAN HEART. SUGGESTIONS TO PARENTS:--The objects used to-day are a large perfect apple and a stunted, wormy apple. Have also a knife with which, at the proper time, to open the wormy apple. With these preparations made, let the children "drive to church" after the manner suggested for last Sunday. After the singing of a hymn or two, prayer and collection, let one of the children, in the manner of the preacher speaking to his audience, tell in his own way of the "Oyster and Crab" and of God's purpose in giving us a conscience, and let him or her draw the moral lessons and impress the spiritual truths. Even if it is done in but few words, or a faltering way, do not embarrass or discourage by criticisms. Speak words of encouragement. If preferred, the little sermon may be a presentation of the sermon preached by the pastor in the morning, or one child may present the object sermon of last Sunday and another child the sermon by the pastor in the morning. The more who take part, the better, as variety adds to the interest. Then gather the children around close so they can see the pictures as you read the following sermon. Have the apples at hand also for demonstration. THE object which I have chosen to-day, is one with which I am sure every boy and girl is thoroughly familiar. The moment you see it you recognize it. This large and beautiful apple is one of the most perfect of its kind, large in size, beautiful in color, and one which tempts the appetite of any one who is hungry. Now, boys and girls, I have here another object. Can you tell me what this is? I expected that you would say that it was an apple, and that is true. But you have not told me the whole truth concerning it. This is not only an apple, but it is a wormy apple. It did not grow as large as the other, and, by looking at the outside, I see that it is defective. It is stunted, like wormy apples quite universally are. You might think that the worm went into this apple because it was not full grown and strong and large, the same as it is sometimes thought that boys who have never improved their advantages, but have failed to become noble and good, therefore sin has entered their hearts. The truth is just the reverse; wickedness first possessed their hearts, and that has been the cause of their failure to improve their opportunities, and to become manly, and noble, and good, and kind. If they had first got the evil and sin out of their hearts, they would surely have stood a much better chance. They would have become Christians, and have grown up more and more like Christ, to be good, and kind, and generous, and useful. [Illustration: Worm in the Apple.] I want to ask you a question concerning this worm. But to be sure that we are not mistaken, let me take a knife and cut this apple in two, and see whether or not there is a worm inside. Just as I said, this is a wormy apple. It has evidently had two worms in it. Here is one of them, and the other has taken its departure. Now, boys and girls, I want to ask you, did this worm eat his way into the apple, or did he eat his way out of the apple? Quite as I anticipated. I expected that you would say that he ate his way into the apple; but the fact is, he ate his way out of the apple. I am sure that you will ask immediately, at least in your minds, how then did he get in, if he ate his way out? I will tell you how it was. Early last spring, just after the apple trees had been in blossom, and when this apple had just begun to form on one of the branches, there came along a bug and stung this apple, and deposited in the inside the germ of the worm. As the summer grew warmer, and the apple grew larger, the germ began to develop, until finally it grew into a worm. When it began to grow strong, it discovered that it was confined in the interior of something, and soon it began to eat, and continued until it ate its way out of the apple. This other worm, which still remained in, had continued to eat in the various portions of the apple, and possibly because of having less bodily vigor had concluded to remain there for a time, but you can see from the inside of the apple that it has done great injury, at the very core or heart, and I suppose that if it had been left to itself, in the course of a few days, or a few weeks at most, it also would have eaten its way out of the apple, in order to escape from its confinement. [Illustration: Insect Stinging Bud.] Now, boys and girls, this worm represents sin in the human heart, or wickedness possibly presents the thought better, and when you see a boy or girl doing wrong, they are simply giving outward expression to the wickedness which exists in their hearts. Boys are bad, not so much because the influences by which they are surrounded are bad, but because their hearts are sinful, and wicked, and bad. But I am sure that you will want to know how wickedness gets into the human heart. I will tell you how it is. Way back in the spring-time of the history of the human race, way back in the Garden of Eden, soon after God had created Adam and Eve, Satan came and inspired in the hearts of these first people the desire to disobey God. God told Adam and Eve that they should not eat of the fruit of the forbidden tree, and that when they did they would die, that is, they would be separated from God. Satan came and told them that they would not die, but that when they ate of the fruit of this tree they would become very wise. They believed Satan rather than God, and they did that which was wicked and wrong. And so throughout all the generations since, there has been that willingness to believe Satan and to do what he wants us to do, rather than to believe God and do what God would have us to do. Boys and girls who find themselves inclined to disobey their father or mother, to be disrespectful to those who are older than they, to do wrong on the Sabbath, to remain away from the Sunday-school and church, and to enjoy the beautiful spring-day, by strolling through the fields or wandering through the woods, do so, not alone because the day is pleasant or because of the opportunities from which others turn away, but because there is wickedness in their hearts. So when boys quarrel and fight, or steal, or do any other thing that is wrong, it is not so much the influences by which they are surrounded, the temptation from without, but the wickedness and the evil and the sinfulness which there is in the human heart, eating its way out through their heart into their lives, and deforming their lives, which otherwise would be upright, honorable and manly and Christ-like. I trust that when you are tempted to do wrong you will recognize the fact that there is evil in your heart, and that you will go to Jesus and earnestly pray Him to take away this evil out of your heart, and to give you a new, clean heart. Just the same as with these apples, if you had the privilege of choosing, I am sure you would prefer the large one, which has not been spoiled because of the destructive worm inside, so I trust you will choose to have the good heart, which God can give you, rather than the heart that has wickedness and sin within. If you will go to God in prayer and ask Him, He will give you a good heart, a true heart, one that has no sin and no wickedness within. Questions.--Which is nicer, a big, red apple or a little stunted one? What prevented the little apple from growing big and beautiful? When did the little worm get into the apple? If it had not been for the worm in the apple, would the apple have grown large and well formed? What causes boys and girls to desire to do wrong? Who tempted Adam and Eve to do wrong? Did they listen? Did they believe God or did they believe Satan? Are boys and girls still tempted to do wrong? Are they likely to yield to temptation? To whom should we go when we are tempted to do wrong? Who alone can cleanse our hearts from sin? Should we always go and ask God for strength when we are tempted? Which would you choose, a good heart or a wicked heart? Suggest to the children (or better still select one or have them select one) to procure for next Sunday some weeds that grow by the wayside and also a few cut flowers or potted plants. After "driving home" from church and after putting the horses away, which little action gives the children a few moments' diversion, then other methods contained in the chapter of "Suggestions to Parents" can be selected according to the age, intelligence and interest of the children. After this, refreshments or whatever is best suited to the thought of the parents and the conditions of the household may be introduced. [Illustration] WAYSIDE WEEDS AND GARDEN FLOWERS. NEGLECTED VERSUS CHRISTIAN CHILDREN. SUGGESTIONS TO PARENTS:--The objects to be used to-day are a bouquet of flowers or some potted plants and a bunch of weeds that grow by the wayside. These will illustrate the difference between neglected, untaught and undisciplined children, and the children of a well trained household. Make the lesson impressive, so that the children will appreciate that the restrictions and discipline which are imposed upon them are all for their own good--that without these careful attentions they would grow up like the children in the slums. The neglected character of the clothing of undisciplined and uncared for children is only indicative of the minds and hearts and character of these children. Arrange the chairs, "drive to church"; let the ushers show the different real or imaginary persons to seats. Then let the hymn, prayer or "opening service" precede the "preaching" of the object sermon of last Sunday or the regular sermon at the morning church service by one or more of the children, after which a hymn may be sung, and the parent gather the children close so they can see the pictures, and read the following sermon on "Wayside Weeds and Garden Flowers." During the reading, or before, or after, let the children gain the impressive lessons from the colored picture which so beautifully illustrates the sermon. [Illustration: Wayside Weeds and Garden Flowers] THE land of Palestine, in which Jesus lived, has always been noted for its flowers. They grow everywhere in great abundance, and oftentimes in very great perfection and beauty. One time, when Jesus was preaching on the mountain, He used the flowers which were growing on the side of the mountain, to preach an object sermon to the multitudes about Him. He said, "Consider the lilies of the field; how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet I say unto you that Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these." (Matt. vi: 28, 29.) Let us to-day take the same object lesson, to set forth to our minds a clearer understanding of some truths, which are very important to every father and mother, as well as every boy and girl. As you see, I have here two bouquets. This, which I now hold in my hand, is indeed very beautiful. Here are some lovely roses, some tulips, some peonies. Here is a dahlia and heliotrope. Here are some tube roses, and a great variety of other flowers, which together constitute a very beautiful bouquet. Now, here is another bouquet. I see you smile, but indeed it is a bouquet. I spent a great deal of time gathering these flowers, at which you laugh. I sought them in such places as would afford the best varieties of these several kinds. Now, boys and girls, I want to ask you where these flowers grew? I will hold up this beautiful bouquet and ask the question. I know what will be your answer; you will say that I bought it from a man who keeps a hot-house, or that I gathered them in some flower garden which was very carefully tended; and such, indeed, is the case. Now, I will hold up this other bouquet. Can you tell me where I gathered these? I did not think that you would have much difficulty in determining. I gathered them along the roadside, in the fields and in the woods. These flowers are what the farmer calls "weeds." Here is a rose with a single leaf that grew in a neglected corner, along the outskirts of a woods. It is a genuine rose, but it is by no means pretty, or at all to be compared with those in the other bouquet. I will tell you why there is such a difference in the appearance of these two bouquets. One grew in the garden, where it was protected by a fence from being tramped upon. The weeds that grew about it were all pulled out of the ground, and the stalk upon which this flower grew was given a fair chance, so that it might grow successfully. The roots of the plants were carefully nourished, and whenever there was not sufficient rain the flowers were all watered, and thus the plants and flowers grew to their greatest perfection and beauty. Now, these other flowers which I gathered in the fields and along the roadside and in the woods, have had a hard time of it. In their growth they had to contend with other weeds. They have been tramped upon by the cattle. They have been scorched by the sun. And year after year they have grown in these neglected quarters with great difficulty, consequently they are stunted and have never attained any perfection or beauty. Do you know that these very beautiful flowers in this bouquet at one time grew just the same as the flowers in the other bouquet? But they were removed from the roadside, and from the fields and from the woods, and placed by themselves where they could be properly cared for and cultivated, and they grew more beautiful from year to year, until we have this present satisfactory result. Boys and girls are very much like flowers. Those who are neglected, who are permitted to walk the streets, to stroll along the roads and over the fields, to go along the streams fishing on Sunday, instead of being in Sunday-school and in church, those who are permitted to run out at nights and play with all kinds of company--these are the boys and girls who are like the flowers which grow by the roadside. Nothing very beautiful, or very good, or very perfect can reasonably be expected from them. This beautiful bouquet represents those boys and girls who have Christian fathers and mothers, who surround them by influences which are well calculated to make them pure in thought and upright in life, so that they may grow up to be good Christian men and women. These flowers represent the boys and girls who grow up in the Sunday-school and in the Church, who give their hearts to the Lord Jesus Christ, and grow up into His likeness, and into His image, and into His stature, and become noble Christian men and women. When parents permit their children to run wild, they cannot expect them to grow up Christians. It is only by culture and education and Christian influences that they can be improved, so as to become honorable and upright. Nearly all the products of the field have been improved by cultivation, just the same as these flowers have been improved. Wheat in its native state, as it may still be found in France and Italy along the shores of the Mediterranean, was a stunted and straggling plant, with a small and inferior seed, but after long years of patient and continued cultivation, it has grown to its present plump and prolific proportions. All the beautiful fruits which now grow in our orchards were at one time unsightly and undesirable. The apple was small and sour, and unpalatable; but by pruning and grafting and fertilizing, it has grown to be not only beautiful to the eye, but delicious to the taste. The acrid and unwholesome berries, which formerly grew on the mountain ash, have been developed into the sweet and juicy pear. By cultivation, the acrid and bitter sloe has grown into the beautiful plum. The same is also true of the potato, the turnip and the cabbage. Boys and girls can only be developed into useful men and women by the influence of the week-day and Sunday-school, the Christian home and the Church, by reading and studying the Bible and other good books. When you are restricted or corrected by your parents, you may oftentimes feel very much irritated and may feel rebellious, and may think that you do not have as many privileges or as much freedom as some of the other boys and girls whom you know. But you must remember that all this is done by your parents for your good, and later on in life you will see the value of it all and be very grateful to your parents for what they have done for you. When I was a boy, in the little village where I lived they organized a cannon company of six or eight boys, who were to accompany the men who went to other villages to listen to political speeches before elections, and then to march in a torch-light procession. I was at that time a boy about twelve years old. I was asked to join. The boys were all to wear red blouses and red caps, and to my thought just then, nothing in the world was so much to be desired as the torch-light procession and the red blouse and cap, and to be permitted to march behind the drum and the fife, hauling the little cannon after us. I shall never forget how I cried and how ugly I felt toward my father when he would not let me be one of the cannon boys and wear a red blouse and a red cap. He said that at night I ought to be at home and in bed, and not be exposed to possible bad influences, the danger of catching cold and of other bad results which he could clearly see, but which I, at that time, thought were only imaginary. When I grew to be a man, I saw that my father was right, and later when at intervals I journeyed back to my boyhood home and visited the cemetery, I frequently placed one elbow on the tomb-stone of my father and the other elbow on the tomb-stone of my mother, and with my face buried in my hands thanked God that He had given me Christian parents who were wise and judicious enough not to let me have my own way in all things when I was a boy, but who had restricted me and guided me wisely and well. So, boys and girls, it will be with you when you have grown to the estate of manhood and womanhood. You will be, oh, so thankful again and again that father and mother have oftentimes denied you things which you have most desired to have. Questions.--Which are the prettier, flowers which are neglected by the roadside, or those which are cultivated in the garden? Are boys and girls like flowers? Which boys and girls are the best, those who are neglected and not taught, or those who are cared for and carefully trained? Is it more pleasant for boys and girls to have their own way in everything, or would they prefer to be taught and trained by their parents? Which kind of flowers are the heathen boys and girls like? Can wild flowers be made more beautiful by care and cultivation? Can the boys and girls in heathen lands be made like Christian boys and girls? What is necessary to effect this change? How can Bibles and missionaries be sent to them? Did the writer of this book want to have his own way when he was a boy? What did he want to be? What kind of a cap and blouse did he want to wear? When he became a man, was he thankful to his father for not allowing him to have his own way at that time? Will all good boys and girls, when they become men and women, be thankful to their parents for right training? [Illustration: "The Cannon Boys."] NUTS. GOD MEANS THAT WE MUST WORK. SUGGESTION:--The objects used are some nuts of various kinds. If the parent has not already familiarized himself with the different methods of entertainment in connection with the reading of the object sermon to the children, he would do well to turn to the chapter on "Suggestions to Parents" on page 17 and introduce some one or more of the play ideas which have accomplished so much of pleasure and profit in many homes. Arrange chairs and "drive to church," let the audience, both real and imaginary be shown to seats, and after the opening service let one of the children in his or her own way present the lessons remembered from the sermon of last Sunday, or recast what was said by the pastor in his morning sermon. After the collection and singing, let the children "drive home" and let refreshments or some one of the Scriptural entertainments previously suggested round out the pleasure and profit of Sunday afternoon. NOW, boys and girls, I have here some hickory nuts, walnuts, butternuts, chestnuts, and filberts, or hazel nuts as they are sometimes called, and I want to tell you something that I suppose God means to teach us by these nuts. [Illustration: Nuts.] Many people remember that when Adam and Eve were driven out of Eden, God told them that "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread" (Gen. iii: 19), and also that God drove them out of the garden to "till the ground from whence man was taken." (Gen. iii: 23.) On this account some people suppose that if Adam and Eve had not sinned it would never have been necessary for us to work, but that is a mistake. If you turn to the second chapter of Genesis, in the fifteenth verse, you will find that it says, "The Lord God took the man, and put him into the Garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it." So you see that Adam was required to work, even before the fall. Of course his work was not as severe as it was after he was driven out of Eden and his labor brought him a richer fruitage. Now, what do these nuts teach us? I think that most all boys and girls like to eat hickory nuts and butternuts, and chestnuts and filberts, and indeed all kinds of nuts. But did you ever stop to think that God has made it necessary that we should crack the shell before we can eat the kernel that is inside? God has purposed to teach us that labor is necessary before we can eat even of that which He gives us, so on the outside of this desired food he places the shell, in some instances hard and difficult to be broken, in order to teach us that labor is necessary before we can eat of His gifts. Now the same thing is true with regard to the grain that grows in the field. No one ever saw potatoes grow without being planted and cultivated. Rye and oats and wheat do not grow wild. Weeds will grow without being sown or planted, but grain and vegetables not only have to be planted, but have to be taken care of. Possibly you might think that my statement was not wholly correct, because we go out into the orchard and gather apples and pears and peaches, and other kinds of fruit which have no hard shells on them, and which do not have to be planted in the spring of the year. But do you know that we could not gather this kind of rich fruit from the trees unless trees of these kinds had been cultivated for long centuries, grafted and developed so as to produce the rich fruit which is now placed upon our tables? So you see that even this has cost labor, and if we were to neglect the trees in the orchard, it would only be a few years until they would produce only a very small variety of fruit, and even that would be sour and have an unpleasant taste. But God means to teach us this lesson also in another way. Man has found it very necessary to use the different kinds of metals, iron and copper, silver and gold. God has not laid these metals on top of the ground, but has made it necessary that we should dig down into the earth and secure these metals at the cost of a great deal of labor. The same is also true with regard to the coal and the oil, and all the rich mineral products which God has blessed us. None of them can be secured without labor. [Illustration: Apple Tree.] We are all naturally lazy. I have oftentimes thought that we are all born lazy. Some learn to be industrious with less effort, but all have to be taught to work. God means that we should work. Have you ever thought that God could feed us without our labor if He chose to do so? He could rain down our food from heaven, just the same as He gave manna to the Children of Israel, while they were journeying to the promised land. He could not only feed us, but He could also clothe us from heaven. I am sure that if God gave us our clothing from heaven, He would not make such foolish fashions as wicked people over in Paris invent, and which all the rest of the world seem to think they have to imitate. Not only our food and clothing, but God could also have made it necessary that there should be no preachers. Instead of giving us His Word in the Bible, and then asking us to go into all the world and to preach it to all creatures, He might have used the stars at night, just the same as the printer uses the different kinds of type and prints the letters and words upon the page; so God could have used the stars in order to write His law upon the heavens in a universal language that would be known by all peoples, and so at night, and even in the daytime, people could look up into the heavens and read God's law. Thus it would have been unnecessary ever to have printed Bibles, or to send preachers to preach. The cost of building churches and supporting ministers would thus have been unnecessary, but God does not do things in that way. Lazy people might desire that things were arranged in this way, but God has seen fit to make it very different. But why do you think that God means that you and I should learn to work? There are two or three good reasons which I can think of. We are so constituted that no one can be in good health for any considerable period without physical exertion, and so you see that if we want to be well--and no one can be happy who is not well--it is necessary that we should learn to work. You will always find that lazy people who eat a great deal suffer many physical ailments. They are always complaining, and I think you will always find that they really are sick, but they could be well if they would only go to work as God meant they should. Then there is another reason. An idle man is always a dissatisfied man. A boy or girl with nothing to do is sure to be unhappy. If we desire to be happy and contented we must learn to work. But there is also another reason. Our spiritual well-being also renders it necessary that you and I should have something to do. Work is really one of God's greatest blessings, and we are told that those who are idle tempt Satan to tempt them. I do not believe that an idle person can be a good Christian. An idler is of no use either in the world or in the church. God can make no use of him, and Satan must surely despise him also. So if you desire to be delivered from sickness and to remain well and strong, if you desire to be contented and happy, if you desire to be good and useful, if you desire to be helpful in the great purpose for which God has created you and placed you upon this earth, you must learn to work, and the best time to learn to work is when we are young. We are to learn to labor with our hands, with our minds, always remembering that whatsoever we do, we are to do all to the glory of God. Now let us all join in singing, "Work, for the night is coming." QUESTIONS.--Did God assign some work to Adam when he was first created? What was he to do in the Garden? Why does God place the kernel of nuts inside of a shell? Do vegetables and grain grow without being planted? Will weeds grow without being planted? Why did God place the metals, and coal and oil down below the surface of the ground? Are we naturally industrious or lazy? Could God clothe and feed us without our labor? Why does He not do it? How could God have printed His law so that it would not be necessary to have Bibles and preachers? Are idle people healthy and contented? Why not? Whom do idle people tempt? Can an idle person be a good Christian? When is it easiest to learn to work? What should we always remember in our work? BANKS. GATHERED AND GUARDED TREASURES. SUGGESTIONS:--Objects for use: A child's bank and a metal kettle of any kind to show how people used to place their money in boxes, kettles, etc., and then bury them in the ground. Use the methods suggested in the preceding sermons. Examine the chapter on "Suggestions to Parents" and introduce new features from Sunday to Sunday. Children like variety. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: What is this I hold in my hand? (Voices: "Bank, penny bank, money bank.") Yes, you are right, this is a bank, and I suppose many of you, perhaps all of you either now, or at some past time have had such a place to deposit your money. [Illustration: A Penny Bank.] In the time of Christ the children did not have little banks like these. Even the big people did not have banks where they could deposit their money. When they had jewels or money they would place them in a box, or a copper kettle, and bury them in the earth. They would hide them away from other people, and thus seek to secure them for themselves. In that period of the world, there were many thieves and robbers; Palestine was often invaded by hostile armies; there were occasional earthquakes, which destroyed whole cities, and so the people used to bury their money for safe keeping. After burying it, sometimes they were killed in war, or perhaps died suddenly, before they had time to tell anybody where they had concealed their money, and on this account all over that land there were buried treasures, or "hid treasures" as they are called, and to-day if you were to go to Palestine you would see many people digging here and there everywhere to find money or treasures that have been hidden away for long centuries. Even in the time of Job people must have dug for treasures, as they are doing in Palestine to-day, for Job says of the miserable and unhappy, that they often "long for death, and dig for it, more than for hid treasures." (Job iii: 21.) It is altogether right for you to economize and save your pennies. I hope every boy and girl will have a little bank, but while you are learning to save, you should also learn to give to every good cause, to give in Sunday-school and to give for the support of the Church, for missions, and to give to assist the aged and the poor, and to contribute something for those who are in poverty and in distress. If you simply learn to save, or hoard up money, and do not learn at the same time to give, you will become what people call "a miser," and that word means miserable. Misers are always miserable, not because they do not already have sufficient, but because there is so much more that they desire. They always wish for more. [Illustration: Hiding Treasures in the Earth.] But while you are learning to save money and to gather treasures here upon the earth, you must not forget that the Bible says, that we are to lay up for ourselves "treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal." It says, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." God means that first of all you and I shall give our hearts to Him, and then afterward, in all our getting, we should constantly remember that we are only stewards of God--that is, that all the money and everything else we possess in this world belongs to God. He simply permits us to have it and to use it in His name, and we must honor and reverence Him by giving to help on every good work. Now, after we have given our hearts to God, and have become followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, we are to lay up our treasures in heaven by living right, by seeking to be good, and by doing good to others. We are to lose no opportunity to do that which will be a blessing to those about us. One of the boys or girls said this was a penny bank. That name is very suggestive. A bank is a place where you deposit money. Now, if you have a bank like this, do you only put into it silver dollars, five-dollar bills, ten-dollar gold pieces? If each boy who is here were to wait until he had a ten-dollar gold piece, or a five-dollar bill, or until he had come into possession of a silver dollar before he placed any money in his bank, I am sure his bank would always remain empty. The way to fill a bank is to put pennies in it--to save each cent and each five-cent piece. To-day a penny, and to-morrow a few pennies, and so on through the week, and through the year, and at the end of the year you will find that you have saved quite a goodly sum. Now, there are some people who want to lay up treasures in heaven, but they do not want to lay it up there, little by little. They prefer to wait until some opportunity comes when they can do a great deal of good at one time. But the person who does not do good every day and every hour, little by little, will never have any treasure in heaven. It is the pennies that make the dollars; it is the "many mites that make the muckle." It is the constant doing of little things, for the glory of God and the good of others, that makes a man great. Great men are great in little things, and if you desire to be great men and great women, you must always use the little opportunities, and use them well. Lay up treasure in heaven, each and every day, just the same as, day after day, you would save your pennies, and thus fill your banks. If you want a large treasure in heaven you must constantly be engaged in laying up your treasure there. Never lose an opportunity to do good, and in this way you will have an abundant treasure in heaven. QUESTIONS.--Where do people put money for safe keeping? Is it only silver and gold which is put into a bank? Do thieves ever break into banks? Can any treasure be laid up in the earth where it is absolutely safe? Where does the Bible tell us we are also to lay up treasure? When boys and girls are obedient, is that laying up treasure in heaven? Does being great in little things make a great man or a great woman? Should boys and girls learn to save their money? What would they be called if they spent all their money? What would they be called if they hoarded up all they could get? Should we always use all our money in the fear of God? After the conclusion of the services and after "driving home from church", introduce some other interesting features so as to make the day sacredly impressive. [Illustration] THE CHART. AVOIDING THE DANGERS. SUGGESTIONS:--Objects: A geography, or detached maps will serve to show that the portions of the earth which are under the water are quite like the portions of the earth which are above the water. Islands are only mountain summits or elevations. "Drive to church", have the ushers show different real or imaginary persons to seats, have the little sermon and service precede the reading of the following object sermon. [Illustration: Outline Map of the United States.] MY LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN: We are all travelers. Now when a traveler starts out upon a journey he always desires to have in his possession one of these things which I hold in my hand. I know you will recognize it at once, and say that it is a map. This map tells you the name of the country; it shows you where there are mountains, where there are rivers, where there are valleys, where there are cities, and shows you the entire United States of America. In traveling through a strange country, if you do not have a map, you might be lost upon the mountains, or your journey would be obstructed by the rivers which you could not cross, and in various ways you would find it absolutely necessary to have a map. Now, when a traveler goes out upon the sea, it is just as necessary that he should have a map, or what the sailors call a chart, as it is for the traveler upon the land. The chart which the sea captain has, shows the mountains and the valleys and the rivers which are in the sea; for these exist in the sea, as well as upon the land. The rocks, against which ships are sometimes dashed to pieces, are simply the tops of high mountains that come very near to the surface of the sea; and the captain without a chart, not knowing where they are, is likely to run against them with his ship. The islands are simply the tops of these mountains, that rise higher above the water, and form a place of abode for man; and we call them islands, because they are very much smaller than the great continents on which you and I live. A chart of the sea always locates the dangerous places. They show where other ships have been foundered, and oftentimes where hundreds and thousands of lives have been lost. It also shows what are really rivers in the sea, or great currents, one of which we call the Gulf Stream. When a ship is crossing the Gulf Stream the motion or current of this water might carry it many hundreds of miles out of its course, and if the captain had no chart he would not be able to allow for this distance, which the ship is being carried, either north or south. Now, you and I are travelers in this world. We are out upon a great voyage, and it is necessary that we should have a chart, and therefore God has given us the Bible, which you and I can use greatly to our advantage. In the Bible, God has pointed out the dangers which lie like the hidden rocks under the surface of the sea. In the commandments God marks out the great dangers which beset you and me. There is the rock of Idolatry. Whole nations of the earth have been wrecked on this rock. Then there is another, Profanity, swearing: Oh! how many boys and men are ruined because they do not observe how God has marked this dangerous rock, against which no one can run without danger of losing his immortal soul. Then there is Sabbath breaking, another rock; and there is reverence due to parents; and God marks another, "Thou shalt not kill"; and then there are others, against stealing, against bearing false witness, against covetousness. All these dangerous rocks God has marked in the Bible, in order that you and I may not run against them, and thus be shipwrecked in our voyage to the haven of everlasting rest. [Illustration: Rocks and Mountains at the Bottom of the Sea.] God also marks the influences which you and I must come in contact with. Every boy who goes to school feels the influence of other boys, some of whom are very bad. If he permits himself to be moved by these things he will go wrong, just the same as the ship that is crossing the Gulf Stream is carried out of its course. So the Bible warns us against bad company. Now the chart which the sea captain has, indicates also the ports of safety. It shows the location of these different ports, and the direction the captain must take in order to reach them. So the Bible shows us where you and I can find refuge in the day of storm, and in the day of trial, and in the day of sickness, and in the day of distress. To the sea captain, out upon the great ocean, there are ten thousand directions which are sure to end in shipwreck. There is only one safe way to go, in order to reach his desired port in safety. Now what would you think of a captain out upon the seas who folded up his chart and laid it carefully away, and never looked at it, never studied it, never sought to know what is on the chart? Do you not see how he would go upon the rocks? His ship would go down to the bottom of the sea, just as surely as if he had no chart on board his ship. It is important that he should have his chart in constant use. So it is important, not only that we should have the Bible, but that we should use the Bible, that we should read it, that we should study it, that we should know what it says. I trust that each and all of you not only have a Bible, but that you study it daily, and that you seek to avoid the dangers which God has pointed out, and that you desire to know the will of God concerning you. QUESTIONS.--What should a traveler always have in a strange country? What must a sea captain always carry with him on his ship? What does the chart show? Are we travelers? To what country are we journeying? Has God given us a chart to show the dangers to which we are exposed in our voyage or journey? Should we read the Bible every day? What are two principal parts of the Bible? Do you know how many books there are in the Old Testament? Do you know how many books there are in the New Testament? Do you know who was the first man? Who was the first woman? Who was the first murderer? Who built the ark? Who had the coat of many colors? Who led the Children of Israel out of Egypt? Who was put in the lion's den? After the entire service has been completed and after the "drive home from church", chairs can be arranged with their backs toward each other, set a little way apart, with a shawl, blanket, or even a sheet, thrown over them so as to form a little tent. A number of tents can be made to illustrate the Children of Israel camping in the wilderness. They were travelers tenting by the way, who forgot about their chart and fell into sin, and God had to turn them back in the wilderness for forty years of wandering. All this suggests important lessons to the parents. A series of tents can be arranged like the one shown in the picture below (see also pages 209 and 271) and then, with one child in each tent the questions can be asked. When a child fails to give the correct answer, he moves down to the last tent in the row, the other children move up, and the question is passed to the child next in order, the same as in a "spelling-bee" and other progressive plays. Questions like those given on this page and on pages =25= and =26= can be used; also questions such as are found in the chapter on "Suggestions to Parents," especially from paragraphs 50 onward. [Illustration: The Children of Israel Camping in the Wilderness.] THE ANCHOR. HOPE THAT LAYS HOLD OF CHRIST. SUGGESTIONS:--Object: Anchor of any kind. One cut from paste-board would answer. During the week the little ones might be interested to cut out both anchor and the chain, using paste-board. Before reading the following sermon, "drive to church" and after the audience has been shown to seats, begin the service with singing, have the regular prayer and have one of the children preach over the sermon at the church in the morning or the object sermon of last Sunday. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: I want to talk to you to-day about a very important subject. The Bible speaks of hope, and says, "Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil." (Hebrews vi: 19.) [Illustration: The Anchor.] I suppose most of you have been on board a ship or large boat. Very near the bow, or front end of the boat, you have doubtless noticed a chain, at the end of which was an anchor, made in the form of this one which I hold in my hand. Now, I would not care to go out to sea on any ship which did not have an anchor on board. In crossing the Atlantic you may sometimes be out for days and weeks, and sometimes even for months, and have no need of using the anchor. But all the time, while the weather is pleasant and everything is moving along prosperously, the fact that the anchor is on board the ship and that it can be used in time of danger, gives a sense of security to all the passengers. If it were not there you would constantly fear, lest the storms or fog might come when your ship was near land or dangerous rocks or shoals, and then your ship might be lost with its many hundreds of lives on board, simply because it had no anchor. Every man and woman, and every boy and girl, needs to have hope as an anchor to his soul. We should have faith in God, and then at times when all is well, when we are prosperous and blest, and everything goes along like the ship in pleasant weather, we will constantly have peace and rest in our minds and hearts, because we know that our hope is staid on God, and that though the world be removed, yet God will not disappoint us. Some people seem to think that religion is a good thing to have when they get sick, or when adversity or sorrow or great affliction comes. But the fact is that religion is a necessary thing at all times. We need it when we are well and strong, as well as when we are sick and weak. We need religion in this world to live by, as well as to die by, as well as for our salvation in the world to come. The anchor is very serviceable indeed in time of storm. Often it has to be used in order to secure the ship and save the lives of all who are on board. If it were not for the anchor the ship might be thrust upon the rocks, or it might be dashed to pieces by the waves that break upon the coast. The anchor is oftentimes very serviceable. So it is with the religion of the Lord Jesus Christ. When trials and perplexities and adversities come, as they do in every life, then it is that this anchor is a source of very great blessing, because it saves from shipwreck, occasioned by unbelief and the perplexities into which those are cast who have no hope, or trust in God. [Illustration: Anchor Laying Hold of the Rocks.] To be serviceable the anchor must take hold of something. If it simply drags along it will not hold the ship; but the ship may go to pieces on the rocks, even though it has an anchor, which has already been cast over. Now in time of sorrow and perplexity or distress every one throws out an anchor. That is, he tries to take hold of something which will sustain him and keep him, just the same as a boy who falls into the water would grab after a board. They say that a drowning man will even grasp after a straw in order to help to support his body, so that he may save his life. So every one in perplexity reaches out to lay hold of something. But the text which I quoted in the beginning says that this hope which we have as an anchor to the soul lays hold of something, and that something is the Lord Jesus Christ. It is like the ship whose anchor goes down, far below the waves, deep down out of sight, and lays hold of the rocks which form the foundation of the earth. So the faith of the Christian is staid, not on things which are seen, but on the things which are not seen. As the text expresses it, it lays hold of those things "which entereth into that which is within the veil." That is, this figure refers to the Temple at Jerusalem, where the Holy of Holies was concealed from the rest of the Temple by a large curtain or veil, and no one was permitted to go into this Holy of Holies except the High Priest, and he but once a year. But when you and I have the faith of the Christian, although we may not be able to enter into the great mystery of God's grace and mercy, yet our faith lays hold of that which is beyond our understanding, and beyond our possibility to see or fully to comprehend, and thus our faith lays hold of that which is "within the veil." With our understanding, you and I cannot enter into the mysteries of God, but by faith we can enter into them. I trust that every boy and girl here will have that faith in God, which will be as an anchor to his soul, sure and steadfast, entering within the veil at all times. I will tell you how this anchor of faith and hope can be of service to you. There are times when you see other boys and girls who have many more comforts and luxuries and possessions than you have. You may even be discouraged sometimes because you think your lot in life is more than usually hard and difficult. When I myself was a boy, my father died, and only three years later my mother died. I was left an orphan and without a home. I had to become an errand boy in a store, and for a number of years I had a hard struggle. I was a Christian boy, and I had this anchor of faith and hope. I trusted in God that He would make all of these things to work out eventually for my good. I could not at that time understand how. It was beyond my understanding, but later on in life I found how all the trials and struggles of my earlier years had worked together for my good. I understood that passage of Scripture which says: "All things work together for good to them that love God." (Romans viii: 28.) So, when you see others who have it easier and who have more comforts and luxuries than you have, if you have this hope which the text speaks of as "laying hold within the veil" be sure that in God's own good time, in His infinite wisdom and love, He will work out for you also the blessing and the good which you can only hope for, but which at the present time you can neither see nor understand. QUESTIONS.--What does every ship carry? Would a ship be safe without an anchor? When the anchor is let down into the deep water, must it take hold of something? When is the anchor used? If a ship did not have an anchor in time of storm along the rocky coast, would it be safe? Do men and women, boys and girls, also need an anchor? Can we have peace and happiness without hope? Is religion necessary only when we are in trouble? On what does hope lay hold? Can we see the things on which the Christian's faith lays hold? Can we always understand God's providences? Did the writer of this book have trials when he was a boy? Could he understand them then? Did he understand them later on in life? Do all boys and girls have trials? If received in the proper spirit, will they always work out for their good? HUSKS. THE DISAPPOINTED PLEASURE-SEEKER. SUGGESTION:--If the children can obtain some of the pods which are called "husks" in the Scripture, which can be had in some towns and cities, and which the children usually call "Johnny-bread" they will be able to taste the husks which the prodigal fed to the swine and which he himself desired to eat. If these cannot be had, the pods from the sweet locust tree will be serviceable. I HOLD in my hand what I suppose most of you have seen, and perhaps many of you have eaten. It is what boys oftentimes call "Johnny bread." It looks very much like the long pods which grow on the honey locust trees. It is sometimes called "Johnny bread," because some people mistakenly think that this was the kind of locust that John the Baptist ate when he came in the Wilderness, preaching that the kingdom of heaven was at hand and that men should repent. We are told in the Scriptures that he ate locusts and wild honey. The locusts which he ate were very much like our grasshoppers, such as are still eaten by very poor people in the East. [Illustration: Husks.] In the 15th chapter of the gospel by St. Luke, we have a very beautiful parable, called the parable of the prodigal son. In connection with the husk which I hold in my hand, I want to tell you something about this prodigal son. In this parable Jesus tells of a very kind father who had two sons, but the younger son was dissatisfied and discontented. He was a boy very much like many who live in this country and at this time. He was a boy who wanted to have his own way. He thought that his father was an "old fogy." The son wanted gay company and gay clothing. He wanted to travel and see something of the world; so he asked his father to give him the money which would come to him at his father's death, in order that he might go immediately and have his own way, and have a good time, as he supposed. His father was very sad, for he had tried to bring up his boy in the right way. But when he could not prevail upon him, and his son would not listen to him any longer, but insisted upon having the money, and going away from home, the father granted his request. When the money had been counted out, the son gathered it all up, bade his father and brother and all his friends good-bye, telling them what a happy time he was going to have, and started out for a far country. This same desire to see something of the world has induced many boys to run away from home. Many years ago, when there were numerous ships that went out on long voyages to catch whales, oftentimes boys who had run away from home went away to sea with these ships. Now, however, restless and discontented boys, who have read worthless and deceptive books, sometimes go to live a wild life on the plains in the West. Sometimes boys even become tramps. Scores and sometimes hundreds of them can be met any week by going to the Breakfast Association, in Philadelphia; or some of the Rescue Homes, in New York, where poor, wandering boys and tramps are given a free meal on Sunday morning or Sunday evening. Prodigals now, as in the time when Christ lived, have a very hard time of it. They start out with high hopes, sometimes with money in their pockets, with fine clothing and bright anticipations, expecting to have a good time in the far country which they are seeking. But their experience is always the same. When this prodigal came to the far country, for a few weeks, or possibly a few months, he had plenty of money. He thought his money would always last. Bad men and women gathered around him, for they all wanted to enjoy what his money would secure for them. But it didn't take long; his money was soon spent, and when his money was gone his pretended friends were gone also. He soon found himself penniless, friendless and hungered. He had to go out and seek for work. Perhaps he had been too much indulged at home. He had never learned a trade, and possibly had never learned to do work of any kind, and so there was nothing for him to do but to accept the humblest and meanest kind of labor. He was a Jew, and for a Jew to tend swine or hogs was one of the meanest things in all the world. And yet he was willing because of his poverty and his want, to do even this most degrading service. This boy who wanted to be his own master, now became the most menial of slaves, even to the tending of swine. He wanted gay company, but he had only pigs for his companions. He wanted wine and feasting, but now no one even offered him husks to eat. He left his home to seek happiness, but he found only misery. [Illustration: The Disappointed, Hungry Prodigal Tending Swine.] These husks which I showed you, which some boys call "Johnny bread," are exactly what this wayward, disappointed, disheartened, hungry boy was given to feed to the swine which he was hired to tend. He was so hungry that he would have been glad to eat these husks with the pigs, but no one gave him any to eat. When this wayward boy was thus brought down to poverty and hunger in that far-off country, while he was tending the swine, he began to think. If he had only stopped to think before he left his home, he would never have started away. He would surely have known that he was better off at home than anywhere else. But now that misery and want had come to him, we are told that "he came to himself." That is, he came to his senses. It was sentiment which led him from his home. It was sense that brought him back. The trouble with boys and girls, and with older people too, is that they do not stop to think. They follow their fancies and sentiments, and they are led astray in this way. God wants us to stop and think, and He says, "Come, let us reason together." God does not ask any unreasonable thing of us. He simply wants to treat us as thoughtful beings, but we want to follow our own inclination and our own desire. God treats us very kindly. He gives us every needed comfort and every daily blessing, and yet oftentimes people are discontented and dissatisfied with God; they complain and think they have a hard time of it. Instead of being faithful and true to God, they turn away from him. They desire to forsake God and serve Satan. They desire to accept what Satan says, and so turn away from God and all that is good. But they have the same experience over and over again that this young man had. He went out with fine clothes and plenty of money, and with high hopes; but he returned home in rags, without a penny in his pocket, disappointed, penitent and ashamed. [Illustration: The Returning Prodigal] But I must not forget to tell you, that when he had journeyed many a week, toiling wearily over the long road that had separated him from his father's house, at last he came near his old home. In going away he had nearly broken his father's heart. With sorrow he was bringing his aged father down to the grave. But his father still loved his wayward boy, and expected him home. As he sat watching at the door looking over the hills, he saw the returning prodigal when he was yet a great way off. This loving and forgiving father had compassion upon his son, ran and fell upon his neck and kissed him, and welcomed him back home again. The wayward boy's heart was all broken up by such kind treatment. He fell upon his knees at his father's feet and said to his father, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son; make me as one of thy hired servants." But the father called his servants and commanded them to bring the best robe and put it upon this boy who had given him so much sorrow; to bring the ring and put it upon his finger; and then to kill the fatted calf, so that they might make a great feast, in order that all might be made very glad, because this his son, who was dead, was alive again, he who had been lost was found. So when we come back to God after we have sinned against Him, and are repentant and sorry for what we have done, in love and great tenderness He forgives our sins. And like the prodigal, in the time of his sorest misery, found in his father's heart the greatest mercy, so you and I may come to God knowing that in the day of our dire distress He is always willing to love us and to forgive us as His own dear children. Let us be careful not to sin against Him, and then we shall not have the humiliation and the sorrow of coming back, like this poor prodigal, when he returned in rags and poverty to his father's house. Never make the mistake of going away from your God and then you will not have the remorse which will bring you back in sorrow and shame. QUESTIONS.--Who first told the parable of the prodigal son? Why did the prodigal leave his home? What did he do with his money? Did his pretended friends stay by him after his money was gone? In his poverty what did he do? Did he have enough to eat? When he was in want and came to himself, of whom did he think? What did he resolve to do? What do boys who run away from home generally become? Are tramps happy? Was the father sad all the time the boy was away? How did he receive the returning prodigal? Does God love us even though we do wrong? Will God forgive us and accept us? Is God glad when we repent? After "driving home from church" a series of tableaux could be arranged: (1) Showing the father counting out the money to the boy. (2) The boy bidding good-bye to his father and friends. (3) Surrounded by flatterers for whom he is spending his money. (4) In poverty tending swine. (5) In rags returning home. (6) Being welcomed by his father. Or the children may arrange a tent in which the prodigal is presumed to live on the plains while tending the swine, which may be represented by a series of books, toys or any objects; for the imagination of the children will convert any object into any other object, person or thing. [Illustration: The Prodigal's Tent.] IRON--LOW GRADE AND HIGH GRADE. CHARACTER AND WORTH. SUGGESTION:--Objects used: A piece of old iron, some nails, broken clock and watch springs, and also a piece of native iron ore, if convenient. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: I want to show you to-day that there is a great difference in the value of things, even though they are made of the same material. In the second chapter of Genesis we are told, "And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground." So, you see that all men and women are made of the same material, yet men differ greatly, both in character and works. [Illustration: Iron Products.] I have here some iron ore, some old iron, some nails; here are some clock springs, and here are some springs of watches. This iron ore is as it is dug from the earth. It is called the native iron, but mixed with it there is much earth and stone and dross, which must be separated from it in order to make it pure. This is done by casting the ore, together with limestone and other materials, into a huge furnace, where the fire is so intensely hot that all are melted and thus the iron is separated from the dross, or stone and earth, which is now mixed with the ore. When the iron is thus separated and molded into large bars, it is worth from a fraction of a cent to two cents per pound, according to quality and market price. After it has been cast into great iron bars, and is known as pig iron, it is afterward bought and melted over again and molded into the form of stoves and wheels, such as are used in factories, and a variety of other forms for manufacturing and other uses. [Illustration: Nail, Pen and Clock Spring.] Now, here I have some pieces of iron, such as boys call "old iron." They often find pieces of this kind of iron, which have been thrown away, and gather and sell them at a price varying from one-quarter to a cent or more a pound, according to circumstances. Then it is melted over again and made into stoves, or whatever the manufacturer may desire. Now, here are some nails, such as sell at five cents a pound, and here are some steel pens, which are worth from one to four and five dollars a pound. Here are some springs, such as are used in the construction of clocks. These are the springs which make clocks go. When you wind up the clock you simply tighten this spring, thus storing the power which is necessary to keep the clock in motion for twenty-four hours, for eight days, or even a longer period. Now here are some springs, such as are used in watches. These springs are worth, according to their size and quality, from twenty to fifty or sixty dollars a pound. Here also are some little screws, such as are used in the construction of watches, and which are worth even a hundred dollars a pound. While these different articles are all made of the same material, you see there is a great difference in their value. One is not worth a single cent a pound, and another may be worth one hundred dollars a pound. Now this difference in value is due to two things. One is, difference in quality, and the other is the use which is made of the article into which the iron is manufactured. [Illustration: Watch Spring and Screws.] I suppose, if these different pieces of metal could think, and had the power of speech, this piece of old iron would complain to the other pieces which are of more value, and say to the watch spring, "I am just as good as you are, we were both dug from the same ore bank. I remember the time when we were both cast into the hot fire and melted in the furnace; after that I was taken to the foundry, and made into a stove, and after a few years of use I was rejected and cast into the alley. I have had to lie about in the mud and in the cold and snow, and men have passed me by and scorned me as though I were of no value. But I want you to understand, Mr. Clockspring and Mr. Watchspring, that I am just as good as you are, and there is no reason why I should be cast out into the mud and cold, while you are placed in a gold case and carried in a gentleman's pocket." The nail also would cry out, and say that he was just as good as the little screws which are used in the watch, and would complain against being driven violently into a board, where it is compelled, year after year, to hold a board on to the side of a building; to have putty placed over its head, and then paint over the top of that, so that nobody could even so much as see where it was, or know what it was doing. Now, the old iron, and the nail, and the others have no right to complain. There is a vast difference of quality, and there is also a difference of work. The higher grades and better qualities of metals are secured by refining processes. Again and again the metal is cast in the fire and melted. Sometimes it is beaten on the anvil into such shapes and forms as will render the metal of greater service, and consequently of more value. Suppose this metal had feeling, and the power to express its wish. Do you not see how it would cry out against being cast into the fire, and being beaten with great hammers upon the anvil? I am sure the fire, the hammers, and the anvil bring no sense of pleasure to the metal while being refined and being beaten into such forms as render it of greatest value. Just so, in some senses at least, are all boys and girls alike. If they were all permitted to grow up in neglect, without being governed by thoughtful parents, without being educated and refined, without being sent to school and required to attend church, without being taught at home and being instructed in the Catechism and in the Bible, and without being shown their duty to God and their fellow men, they would all be pretty much alike. It is the difference in the influences that are made to refine some boys that causes them to differ so much from others who are about them. The boy who has only been taught to pick stones, or sweep the streets, or dig ditches, may cry out against the boy who is gentlemanly, and obliging, and obedient, and truthful, and reliable, and who has a position of great responsibility in a bank, or in the office of some man who occupies a very responsible position; yet oftentimes, and quite universally, there is a very great difference in the merit and value of these two boys. One has been disciplined and governed and controlled, educated and taught, while the other has likely been neglected, and consequently has not learned the importance of these things. God designs to refine all of us, and therefore He desires that all should be taught to study, should learn to read and write, should learn all they can from the schools, should be taught to work, should be taught to expect trials and self-denials, and should be led to expect sickness and disappointments, and all these things by which God designs to make us better from year to year. But, just the same as the iron would cry out against being cast into the fire and being beaten upon the anvil, so do boys and girls, and men and women also, cry out against the providences by which God is refining them and making them better for this world and fitting them for the world to come. If we desire to be of largest service in this world, and to occupy a place of honor in the world to come, we must expect that God will deal with us, as He has told us in the ninth verse of the thirteenth chapter of Zechariah, in which He says, "I will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried." And in the book of Malachi He says that He, that is God, is "like a refiner's fire, and like fullers' soap, and He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and purge them as gold and silver." When the gold and the silver is cast into the crucible to be purified, the fire is made very hot, and the metal is left in the crucible until the man who is refining it and who sits looking into the crucible can see his own image reflected in the metal. So we are cast into the fires of affliction, and God looks down upon us; but when we become like Him, so that God sees His own self reflected in our character, and in our disposition, and in our temper, then we shall have been refined as God desires, and He will then be ready to receive us into His own home on high. QUESTIONS.--Can you name different things made from iron? Is a horse shoe as valuable as a watch spring? What makes the difference in their value? How are iron and steel refined, or made more valuable? Are unrefined and untaught boys and girls all quite alike? What makes them become different? Do some boys and girls become more useful and valuable in the world than others? What causes the difference? Would the iron cry out against being refined? Do boys and girls object to being taught and disciplined? How does the Bible say that God refines us? Can the refiner see his image in the melted metal? Does God want to see His own image reflected in us? [Illustration: "Joseph in the Pit."] A POCKET RULE. HOW GOD MEASURES MEN. SUGGESTION:--Objects: A yard-stick, pocket-rule, tape-measure and any measure or scales convenient. Use the measures and scales for measuring the height and weight of the different children, and explain to them that if they continue to grow, they will eventually become full grown men and women. So God measures them to-day in moral things, and if they will learn what God requires and be obedient to their parents, they will increase in moral stature as well. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: I am sure you will be able to tell me what these are which I hold in my hand. This you would call a yard-stick; the other, because it folds, you would call a pocket-rule, and here is another, which you would call a tape-measure. [Illustration: Yard-Stick, Pocket-Rule and Tape-Measure.] Now, if I were going to measure any of you, to tell how tall you are, I would use one or the other of these rules; as each is divided into even inches, I could use any of these three I should prefer. I would say one boy is four feet two inches, another four feet nine inches and another five feet four inches, and so on according to the height of each person. We speak of this kind of measure as feet and inches. When it is used in measuring cloth, or other goods in a store, we speak of it as yards and parts of a yard. Then there are also other forms of measures, dry measure--quarts, pecks, bushels; and liquid measure--quarts, gallons and barrels. There is also a standard of weight--ounces, pounds and tons. [Illustration: Farmer's Measures.] It is necessary to have standards of weights and measures. This is absolutely necessary, or we could not tell in purchasing cloth or lumber, in buying sugar or molasses, or other things, whether we are getting the right quantity, or whether we are not getting the right quantity. So, everywhere you go in the United States we have the same size or standard of weights and measures, and the Government appoints men in each city to go about and examine whether the scales which the storekeeper uses for weighing sugar, and the measures which he uses when he sells vinegar and molasses--whether these are perfectly accurate, as the law requires. [Illustration: Scales and Measure.] But, if you look on the other side of this tape-measure, there is a different standard of measure. This, on the reverse side, is the metric system, used in France and many other countries. If you were to go into a store in France and wanted to purchase cloth, you would not ask for a yard, you would ask for a metre of cloth, which instead of thirty-six inches, which makes our yard, would be a little over thirty-nine inches; so the standard of measures and values varies in different countries. There is a slight difference in the length of the English yard and the American yard. In this country we also speak of dollars and cents. In England they have the penny, shilling, pound or sovereign. And so in different countries there are different pieces of money, having a great variety of values. I have spoken of these things simply to call your attention to the fact that God has a standard of measure, and a standard of value, as well as men. When the Government enlists soldiers into the army every man is measured, and he must be of a given height; if he is not as tall as the requirement, then he is rejected. When Napoleon chose his body-guard the men all had to be exceedingly tall. God also has His standard of measure. He does not measure us according to the height of our body, but according to our moral character. He measures us to see whether we are good or bad. God's standard of the measure of our moral character is found in the Bible. You will find it, both in the Old Testament and in the New Testament. In the Old Testament we have the Ten Commandments, in which we are required to worship God, and to worship nothing else; to keep the Sabbath day holy; to honor our parents; and various other requirements. In the New Testament we have a great many principles for moral government which Jesus announced when He was upon the earth. We have all broken some one or more of the Ten Commandments and the precepts which Jesus left for us to follow. If you desire to see how you should live, if you would keep the law perfectly, you will have to look at the life of Jesus Christ. He was the only perfect man who ever lived. He came to this world to set a perfect example for men to imitate. Just the same as you copy after the lines correctly written at the top of your writing book, so you and I are to copy after the life and character of Jesus Christ. The moral law is a perfect law; the Psalmist says, "the law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul." I showed you how in France they have a different standard of measure from that which we have in the United States, but with the moral law the standard is the same everywhere and at all times. It is wrong to lie or steal in America, and it is equally wrong to lie or steal in France, or in Africa, or in India, or on the islands of the sea, or anywhere in all of the universe. If it is wicked now to swear, or to commit murder it always was wicked. It was just as wicked three thousand years ago as it is to-day, and it never will be right to take the name of God in vain, or to destroy human life. God has but one standard of morality for all people and for all time. What God requires of the young in order that they may be pure and holy, He requires also of grown-up people. If it is wrong for the preacher and the Sunday-school superintendent to go to the theatre, or to do anything else, it is equally wrong for every member of the church and for every member of the Sunday-school. Before God we must all be measured by the same standard of morality. If I had one year ago measured the height of each of you and written it down, and then measured you again to-day, I would find that during these twelve months each of you had grown. You are taller to-day than you were a year ago. Now, God has given us a standard of moral character, right and wrong, and I want you all to study it very carefully, so that you may see how tall you are, how far you come short of the character of Jesus Christ. And as you grow taller in body, so you should grow in moral character, and if you will study God's word carefully, you will be able to discover what progress you are making in becoming more like Christ, in becoming better boys and better girls, and afterward better men and better women, from year to year, than you were each preceding year. May God bless you abundantly, and may you grow daily "unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." (Eph. iv: 13.) QUESTIONS.--How many kinds of measures can you name? Are the standards of weights and measures the same in all countries? How many standards of measure does God have? Where can God's standard of measure be found? Are God's standards the same for all persons in all countries, in all parts of the world? Is there any place in the world where it would be right to lie or steal, or murder? Who was the only perfect man? Does God's standard ever change? Should we constantly strive to become like Christ? How can we tell what progress we are making in becoming more like Christ? [Illustration] THE MAGNET. JESUS THE GREAT DRAWING POWER. SUGGESTION:--A small magnet can be purchased in almost any hardware store at trifling cost. With this, also have some little tacks, nails both small and large, together with some old rusted and crooked nails, and a pocket knife. Do not omit "driving to church" and the other play features suggested in previous sermons. I AM sure that there is not a boy or girl here, who has not at some time felt a desire to be good and do right. When you have felt this way, it has been due to the fact that the Holy Spirit has come to you and has put these good thoughts and good desires into your heart. There is not a person living who has not at some time felt this same drawing and desire to do right and to be good. The results, however, have been very different with different people. I shall seek to illustrate this drawing power to you to-day, and to do so have brought this magnet. I have also brought these tacks and nails of different sizes; and here are also some old, rusted, crooked nails. Let these several kinds represent the different kinds of people. [Illustration: Magnet and Tacks.] When I take this magnet, and move it around among these small tacks, and then hold it up, you will see that very many of these tacks cling to the magnet. They hold on by some unseen power. Sometimes the tacks are even not able to touch the magnet, but are drawn through the influence which extends through other tacks, and so large clusters hang on to the magnet. If I shake the magnet you will see that some fall off. These small tacks represent the youngest children. In the early years of our lives we are more easily drawn to the Lord Jesus. It is then more easy for us to come to Christ and give ourselves fully to Him. It is much easier to be Christians when we are young. Yet many put it off till they are older, when it is much more difficult and they are less likely to be successful in living a Christian life. [Illustration: Magnet and Small Nails.] Now, if I remove these small tacks, and place the magnet among these small nails, you will see that several of the small nails cling to the magnet, and I can lift them up. There are not as many, however, as there were of the tacks clinging to it. In like manner, as boys and girls grow older, they find it more difficult to come to Christ. [Illustration: Magnet and Larger Nails.] Here are some larger nails. When I place the magnet among them, but very few are attracted to it. And when I attempt to lift the magnet, most all of these large nails tall off. Only one, sometimes two, hold on successfully. Here are some nails that are still larger. Now, when I attempt to lift one of them with this magnet, you see that I can only lift one end of the nail. That is due to the fact that while the magnet draws these nails, the earth also draws them. That is the reason why these smaller nails, when they fall from the magnet, fall to the earth; because the earth draws them. The earth draws with so much greater force and power upon these large nails than the magnet draws that I cannot raise them by the magnet. It is on this account that they continue to hold fast to the earth rather than to the magnet. [Illustration: Magnet and Large Nails.] This represents the people who have grown old; who have large cares and responsibilities; who have become worldly-minded; who are drawn away by the "deceitfulness of riches and the lust of other things," and who, although they feel a desire to do right, yet have a stronger desire to do that which is not well-pleasing in the sight of God. Now, here are some old crooked, rusty nails. Let us see what effect the presence of the magnet will have upon them. Just as we might have expected. These rusty nails do not seem to feel the power or the influence of the magnet's presence. If I place the magnet up against the nail, and attempt to lift it, it does not seem to be drawn at all. It simply lies still, unmoved. These old, crooked, rusty nails represent people who have grown very old and very wicked, and who have become greatly hardened in sin. Jesus Christ and His love seem to make no impression any longer upon them. They are joined to their idols. God's Spirit has taken His departure, and they are left alone. Let me warn you, both young and old, that if you feel the drawing of God's Spirit, you should yield to Him, so as not to become more corroded and rusted, and coated over by every sinful influence, so that at last the love of God shall fail to have any effect upon you. If now we take these different classes of nails and mix them together, and then stir the magnet among them, you will see how the smaller nails, in larger numbers, cling to the magnet. These bright nails are also affected by it. Oftentimes the influence of the magnet is seen, as it is communicated from one nail to the other; but these rusty nails, not only do not themselves yield to the influence of the magnet, but they also fail to communicate that magnetic influence to any of the other nails around them. In like manner, wicked people seem to come between Christ and others who would be drawn to Him. Let me say to you, keep out of bad company. Avoid wicked companions--those who swear, or lie, or do anything that is wrong, for their influence over you will be bad, and they will prevent the good influences of holy things from acting upon you. Suppose now that I take my knife blade and move it among these nails, you will see that it does not attract them like the magnet did. It has no magnetic power. If I draw the knife blade across the magnet a few times, it receives this magnetic power from the magnet. Now, when I move it among the nails you will see how these little tacks and some of the larger nails are drawn toward it. Just so it is with each of us as individuals. Without coming in contact with Christ and receiving His Spirit, His drawing power, we will never influence others to do that which is right and good and holy. If we desire to have an influence for good in this world we must, first of all, come to Christ ourselves, and receive this drawing power from Him. You have doubtless seen those who have become Christians, and after they have given their hearts to Christ they have immediately begun to draw others. They go out and invite others to come to church, they invite others to go with them to the prayer-meeting, to come with them to the Sunday-school, and so in every way they seek to influence others that they may draw them to Christ. When Jesus was upon the earth vast multitudes attended Him. Where He went they followed. But now when Jesus is no longer bodily present upon the earth, when we cannot see Him with our natural eyes, we speak of walking by faith, and you may be curious to know what is meant by walking by faith. I think that I can illustrate it in this way: Here is a sheet of writing paper. Now above the writing paper I will place this magnet, and then below it I will place this small bit of iron. The attracting power of the magnet holds the iron up against the paper. Now, when I move this magnet on the upper side of the sheet from place to place, you will observe that this little piece of iron on the lower side of the sheet goes in the same direction. It follows the magnet very closely. The paper is between them. Now, if this paper were enlarged so as to be as long and as broad as the ceiling of this room, of course you would not be able to see the magnet. It would be hidden from your view. But as you would move the magnet from place to place, the little iron below would continue to follow it. So Jesus Christ is no longer visible; we cannot see Him with our natural eyes, but He draws the Christian who is in this world, and so the Christian follows Him. He walks in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus. And it is on that account that we say that the Christian walks by faith, and not by sight. Just before Jesus was crucified He said: "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto Me." (John xii: 32.) So He draws you and He draws me. And so also by His love He would draw every person in all the world to Him. Let us not resist the drawings of the Holy Spirit, but come to the Lord Jesus Christ and love Him with our whole heart. QUESTIONS.--What can the magnet do? Can the power of the magnet be seen? Can the magnet lift as many nails as tacks? Are old rusty nails drawn by the magnet? Who are like the little tacks? Who are like the small nails? Who are like the rusty nails? Does everybody desire at times to be good? What draws them in the right direction? Can we see the power that causes us to desire to be good? What is the name of the power or force that causes the nails to fall from the magnet? What power draws people from doing right? Should we always yield to the power that draws us in the right direction? Does Christ have to be seen in order to accept His influence? [Illustration: Daniel in the Lion's Den.] KEYS. HOW TO UNLOCK THE HUMAN HEART. SUGGESTION:--Objects used: Locks and keys of any form or size. If possible open the lock and show how the key fits into the different wards of the lock. Explain how other keys would not fit. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: I have here to-day quite a variety of locks. Here are also quite a variety of keys. You will notice that there are several more keys than there are locks. Now, I suppose that we would have no very great difficulty in selecting the keys that would be most likely to turn backward and forward the bolts in these different locks. We would naturally expect that these larger keys would fit these larger locks and the smaller keys would be adapted to lock and unlock the smaller ones. [Illustration: Lock and Key.] Here is this large lock; I suppose it is very possible this large key may be suited to lock and unlock it. Yes, it just fits. You see how it turns the bolt in and out as I turn the key. Now, here is another lock; let us see if we can find a key that will fit it. This key seems about the size, but after passing it into the lock it seems to strike something that prevents it from turning, and consequently is of no service. Let us try another. That seems to work much better, and turns the bolt backward and forward. [Illustration: Lock and Key.] Here is still another lock; let us try this key with this lock. That seems to work very well. Possibly we might be able to lock and unlock this other also. Let us try it. Yes, this key fits both these locks. This key is what the locksmith calls a skeleton key. It is so made that it avoids the obstacles which are placed in the different locks to prevent them from being opened by all varieties of keys. Here is a still smaller lock. This lock has a very peculiar keyhole, and I know at once that there is no need of trying to unlock it with most of the keys which I have spread out here. I recognize it at once as what is called a "Yale lock." The key is thin, is bent in various ways, and along the edge has several notches. Let us try a couple of these keys. This one seems to fit very well to the grooves. It passes into the lock, but I cannot turn the bolt. Let us try another. Yes, this seems to be the one that was made by the locksmith to fasten and unfasten this lock. [Illustration: Yale Lock and Key.] A key then is simply something which unlocks the door or the gate, so you may open it and pass inside. Now, there are a great many kinds of keys. Sometimes a book is called a key to business. Perhaps another book is called a key to the study of medicine; another the key to the study of law. And so there may be a great many kinds of books which are called keys. When properly used or studied they open the way for a clear understanding of how to transact business, how to study medicine and how to study law. And so there are various books that are keys to the understanding of very, very many subjects. When you indicate to me the kind of difficulty that you have to overcome, it would be reasonably easy to indicate the kind of book you need in order successfully to meet that difficulty. When I find a book that teaches a boy good business habits and helps him to become a good business man, I know that book was written with that object in view. When I find a book that teaches one how to understand the human system, the nature of disease and the character of the remedies which are to be used when people are sick, I know that book was written with a view to help people to understand the nature of disease and the character of medicine. Just so it is with every other book. Each is like the lock and the key, for the locks have inside a peculiar sort of winding way, and when I find a key that exactly fits into this winding passage I know immediately that the locksmith designed that the key should fit into that particular lock and turn back the bolt. Now, God wants to get into the human heart, and I find that God has a key with which to unlock it. I do not think you would be long in guessing what book God has made the key with which to unlock the human heart. I think that every boy and girl would at once say that it is the Bible. Yes; it is the Bible. It fits exactly into all the wards and chambers, and winding passages which characterize each and every need of the human heart. The moment I bring this wonderful key of divine truth to the human heart, I find that the lock and the key were both made by the same infinite Creator. Some locks are very complicated and intricate, and the keys are also very peculiar. They are made especially for that particular lock, and no other key in all the world will unlock it. The moment I get that particular key and turn it around in the lock I know at once that both the lock and the key were made by the same person, and that the lock was made to be opened by no other key. So God has created the human heart and made it very difficult to be opened, and there is no key in all the world that can open it except the Bible. As a robber or a burglar may try to get into a house by the use of a skeleton key, or by "picking the lock," so men have often tried to gain admission into the human heart by the use of various substitutes for the genuine and the real key. They have tried amusement, and wealth, and sinful pleasure, and very, very many things; but they never succeed in getting into the inner sacredness of the human heart. Unless the heart is opened by God's Word, and the Holy Spirit is admitted so that God can take possession, there is always a sense of loneliness, a sense of dissatisfaction, a desire for something that the person does not possess; he is at unrest, he is restless and dissatisfied, like a boy or girl who is away from home, and has a homesick longing to return to that home. You never will be able to understand the hidden mystery of your own spiritual life and spiritual being until you use the Word of God to help you to solve the mystery. The Word of God is not only designed to unlock the human heart, so that God and the Holy Spirit may gain admission, but this key is also designed to lock the door against Satan and sin and keep them out of our hearts. Unless we daily use our Bibles to lock our hearts against evil thoughts, and wicked purposes, and sinful desires, we will find that they will steal into our hearts; and like the evil spirit that had been driven out and afterward returned and brought seven other spirits more wicked than himself, so sin and Satan will again take possession of our hearts and lock them against God and all that is good. QUESTIONS.--Are there many kinds of locks? Must there be as many kinds of keys as there are kinds of locks? Is the human heart like a lock? Does God desire to get into the human heart? With what key does He unlock it? Are the lock and its key made by the same man? Who made the human heart? Who made the key to unlock it? Can the Bible be used to lock the human heart against the entrance of sin? What are skeleton keys? Do men try false keys with which to open the human heart? What are some of the things with which they try? Is the human heart ever satisfied until unlocked by the Bible and possessed by God? [Illustration] TRAPS. UNSUSPECTING MICE AND MEN. SUGGESTION:--An ordinary mouse trap will be serviceable. The trap can be set and instead of a mouse, a child can spring the trap with his finger. The parent had better try his own finger first, to see that the trap is not too strong. A rat trap should never be tried in this way. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: You may think that possibly there was a time when wicked men did not desire to destroy others, as is so often the case in this day. Hundreds of years ago, God said, "Among my people are found wicked men: they lay wait, as he that setteth snares; they set a trap, they catch men." (Jeremiah v: 26.) [Illustration: Mouse Trap.] I suppose you have all seen traps. There are a great many different kinds. Some are very dangerous, and yet you cannot see the danger until you are caught, or until you see some other person who has been caught in the trap. Now here is a trap. I suppose that you have all seen such traps as this, and possibly have them in your own homes, to catch the little mice which destroy your food, and oftentimes do much injury. Now, this trap does not look dangerous to the unsuspecting mouse. The little wire, which is to be drawn up by a strong spring to choke the mouse to death, is concealed, and he does not know that there is a wire there at all. He simply smells the piece of cheese. This tempts his appetite, and, as he is fond of cheese, he desires to obtain it, and so he attempts to crawl in through this small hole to get the cheese; but the moment he nibbles at the cheese, it disturbs the little catch which holds the spring, and when it is too late to escape, the little mouse finds that he has been caught. Then he does not think of the cheese, but struggles to get loose and escape out of the trap. But all of his struggles are in vain, and after a few moments he is choked to death. Then the man, or the housewife comes, takes the little mouse out of the trap, and with the same piece of cheese the trap is again set for another unsuspecting mouse. So people go on, day after day, catching one mouse after another, with the same trap and with the same bait. [Illustration: Mice and Trap.] Now, there are traps which men set for boys and girls, and men and women, such as story papers, bad books and pictures, that might be called pest papers, printed poison, moral leprosy. To the innocent, the unthinking and the unsuspecting these things may not appear very dangerous, but they are very deadly in their effects, and they result in the temporal and eternal ruin of thousands upon thousands of people every year. Then there are also the saloons, with gilded signs, frosted windows, and showy looking glasses. Rooms which are made attractive only to catch men, to rob them of their money, and of their self-control, and of their reason, and of their homes, and of all temporal good, and of all hope of heaven--destroying men's souls and bodies, both for a time and for all eternity. Then there is the theatre, with its glittering lights, with its tinseled show, with its corrupting play, with its scenes upon which no pure-minded man or woman can look without blushing; scenes which deaden the moral sense, pollute the mind, such as are calculated to rob the individual of virtue, and of integrity, and of faith in God, and of hope of heaven. Then there are other dangerous traps which are set for young men and for older men--tobacco, cigarettes and cigars, and beer. These traps which are set for our money, which so often rob of health and strength, for no boy who uses tobacco in any form can be strong like the boy who does not use tobacco. Boys begin with the deadly cigarette, and then go on to the cigar, and then follow with drinking beer, and so, step by step, they go on down to ruin. If you have ever gone fishing on a calm, beautiful summer day, and have looked down through the water, you have often seen the fish as they gathered around the hook, and then watched them as they nibbled at the bait. First they come up very shyly, and barely touch the bait with their nose. Then they come again, and possibly just bite a small trifle--barely taste of it. Then, again and again they nibble at the hook, until finally they undertake to get a large bite, when they discover that they have swallowed the hook. Then it matters not how much they flounder about, and struggle to get away, it is too late, it is impossible for them to escape. They are pulled into the boat or upon the bank, and a few hours later they are on the stove, being cooked for some hungry fisherman. Just so Satan comes to those whom he wishes to catch. He comes with money, and with pleasure, and with the thought of having a good time. He tempts people by presenting to their thought something which they desire. He leads them on step by step, and when they see others all about them who are being destroyed in the effort to obtain the same pleasure which they are seeking, Satan makes them think that in their own case the result will be very different. [Illustration: Fish Doing a Dangerous Thing.] You will notice that this mouse trap has four different places where mice can be caught, and is it not strange that when one mouse enters on this side, and is caught, and is lying there dead, that another live mouse should come along, and see the same trap and desire the same thing, and walk right in to the same danger, and the same sure death? You would think that when he saw the other mouse had been caught, and had lost his life, that he would turn away. But instead of that, he smells the cheese, walks right into the trap, and is caught, and in a few moments is as dead as his neighbor. So boys see others who have been ruined by smoking cigarettes, who have paved the way for their destruction by smoking cigars, by keeping bad company, by drinking beer, and by going on step by step. They see drunkards all about them who have squandered all their money and lost all their friends, and been forsaken by their own parents, their wives, and their children; who have become outcasts, and for whom no one longer has any respect. Men see these things daily, and yet they go on in the same way, beginning with beer and going, step by step, from social drinking, until they themselves become drunkards and outcasts, and go down to fill a drunkard's grave. The Bible says that no drunkard can inherit the kingdom of heaven. I trust that none of you who listen to me to-day will be so foolish as to permit Satan to deceive you. Look about you and see the results of worthless story-papers, of card-playing, of theatre going, of social drinking, of round dancing, lying, swearing, cheating, and all forms of wickedness, and then remember that these same influences, if wrought into your life, will also produce the same result. Do not be like the foolish mouse, which sees its dead companion in the trap, and then walks up unthinkingly and pokes his head into the same inevitable death and destruction; but remember that Satan waits to destroy you, just the same as he has destroyed others. In the book of Job (xviii: 10) it says, "The snare is laid for him in the ground and a trap for him in the way;" and in the 8th verse of the same book and chapter it says, "He is cast into a net by his own feet, and he walketh upon a snare." Satan has laid traps and snares all along your path through life, and you will need to be very, very cautious, lest you are ruined for time and destroyed for eternity. Remember the text for to-day, which says, "Among my people are found wicked men; they lay wait, as he that setteth snares; they set a trap, they catch men." QUESTIONS.--What are traps for? Are there different kinds of traps? Is a trap a dangerous thing? Does a dangerous trap always look dangerous? Are there traps set for boys and girls, and men and women? Who sets these traps? What are some of the traps? How are fish caught? Who tries to trap and destroy boys and girls, and men and women? What does Satan sometimes use? When the mouse sees others caught, what should he do? Does he run away? Does he go and do the same thing? Does he suffer the same result? If Satan's traps destroy others, will they destroy us? Have you ever seen any persons who were caught in Satan's traps? Can anybody do wicked things without great danger? BREAD. UNIVERSAL SOUL HUNGER. SUGGESTION:--Bread, rolls or biscuit can be used if thought necessary, and these can be used for refreshments later. If the children are tired of "driving to church" in an imaginary carriage, let them drive in an imaginary sleigh, with imaginary bells, amid winter scenes. MY LITTLE FRIENDS: I am sure that every boy and girl in this room knows what it is to be hungry. It is a part of our childhood experience to feel hungry almost every day. While the body is growing there is almost a constant demand for nourishment and food. [Illustration: Loaf of Bread, Roll and Biscuit. ] We have here a small loaf of bread; it is called a Vienna roll, and here is a small biscuit. Now, this is bread, only it is baked in small loaves. As people all over the world have hunger, so bread in one form or another has become the universal food of the world. When in the Lord's Prayer we ask God to "give us this day our daily bread," we mean not simply bread made of flour, but we mean necessary food, food of all kinds; and so the word bread has come to be used to signify all kinds of wholesome food. God gives us our food day by day, just the same as each morning the manna rained down from heaven for the Children of Israel while they were journeying through the desert. God does not send it to us in just the same way, but each day He furnishes us a sufficient amount of food to sustain our bodies. Now, as there is universal physical hunger, and as God has made provision to supply the food necessary to satisfy the hunger of the body; so there is a universal hunger of the soul, and God has also made provision to satisfy this universal hunger of our higher spiritual nature. In the sixth chapter of the Gospel by St. John, you will find much said about the food for the higher, the spiritual nature. Jesus said, "Verily, verily I say unto you, Moses gave you not that bread from Heaven; but My Father giveth you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is He which cometh down from heaven and giveth life unto the world." The body is sustained by the food which grows up out of the earth, because the body is earthy. But to sustain the higher and spiritual nature of man, which is from heaven, the food is sent down from heaven, and therefore Jesus says of Himself that He is "The bread of God which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world," "I am the bread of life, he that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." And in the forty-eighth verse of that same chapter He says, "I am the bread of life; your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness and are dead. This is the bread which cometh down from heaven, that man may eat thereof and not die. I am the living bread which came down from heaven; if any man eat of this bread he shall live forever, and the bread that I will give him is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." [Illustration: Plants Reaching Out Toward the Light.] Now, when you desire to be good, when you desire to live like Christ, you desire to know more concerning Him; and when you desire to read God's Word, and to learn of that which is holy and good and right, then you have this spiritual hunger. That is the kind of hunger of which Jesus was speaking in this chapter. The presence of Jesus in the soul and the knowledge of Him that is given in the Bible is the best kind of food for our spiritual nature. This was the kind of spiritual food upon which Joseph fed when he lived in the midst of idolatrous Egypt. It was upon these spiritual truths that David and Daniel and Paul and Luther fed daily, and this nourished their spiritual natures. I trust you all have this hunger for the bread of life. Jesus said, "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled." Did you ever see a plant growing at the window in a crock and observe how it bends or reaches out toward the light? If you turn the crock around so that the plant bends inward toward the room, after a day or two you go to the plant and it will have changed its direction, and instead of bending into the room, it will be bending out toward the window. Now this plant feeds on the light from the sun, and on that account it reaches out toward the sun. So if you hunger after that which is good, you will reach out after God, just as the plant reaches out after the sun. This kind of bread which I hold in my hand costs something. Flour costs several dollars a barrel, and bread from five to ten cents a loaf. In times of famine bread has sometimes been sold at many hundreds of dollars for one single loaf. But the bread of life is free; it costs nothing. Everybody can have spiritual food for the simple asking for it. Therefore it is that we go to God in prayer and ask Him for every good and helpful grace and blessing; that we ask Him for His presence in our hearts, and to make us good, and to help us to become like Christ. But there are some who have this hunger after that which is good, but they do not know about God and about the Lord Jesus Christ. They do not have any Bibles. Therefore it is my duty and your duty to send them the bread of everlasting life. It is for this purpose that we give our money for missions so that missionaries may be sent to them to tell them of God and His love, and of Jesus Christ the Saviour, and to take them the Bible. In order that we may be strengthened by bread, it is necessary that we should eat it, and that we should assimilate it or make it part of our own bodies, in order that we may become strong, otherwise we would die of hunger in the midst of great store-houses of food. So men and women die spiritually in the midst of churches, in the midst of Bibles, Bible influences, and Bible privileges; yes, die without Christ. In order that our spiritual natures may be fed with spiritual food, we have every Christian influence in our homes, we have the Sunday-school and the Catechetical class, and the Church with its preaching service, and prayer-meetings and other services. If you desire to be good, you must study your Bibles, go to Sunday-school and to church, and seek to know all you possibly can concerning the Lord Jesus Christ, and receive Him into your hearts, and live a Christian life by His aid and the grace which God will grant you from day to day. QUESTIONS.--Do all boys and girls get hungry? What food is most universally used in the world? Does the body require food every day? Why? Do we have a spiritual nature as well as a physical nature? Is there a spiritual hunger as well as a physical hunger? Will food which satisfies the physical Hunger satisfy the spiritual hunger? Who does the Bible say is the "bread of life"? Can we obtain food for the body without buying it either with money or effort? Must Jesus, the spiritual food, be bought? Can salvation be purchased? If God did not give it to us could we ever pay for it? Where can we learn most about this spiritual hunger and about the "bread" which came down from Heaven? How shall we send the Bread of Life to the people in heathen lands? THE STONE. THE NATURAL AND CHANGED HEART. SUGGESTION:--Objects: A small cobble stone and a larger one, to represent the heart of a child and the heart of an adult, and a pin with which to prick the stone and prick the hand. [Illustration: Pricking a Stone. ] NOW, boys and girls, I have here a stone, which because of its peculiar shape reminds me of the human heart. But if I take a pin and prick this stone it has no feeling whatever. If I take this pin and prick the back of my hand, I feel it immediately. It is very unpleasant. Indeed, I do not like to endure it, but this stone has no feeling. If I were to love this stone, the stone would never be conscious of it. I might bestow great gifts upon this stone, I might purchase fruit for it, and everything that you and I might love for food; the finest clothing also, the most costly lands and houses, or we might even bestow upon it very great honor, and yet this stone would know nothing of it. It would always be insensible of all that I might do for it. [Illustration: Pricking the Hand.] Now the Bible represents the natural heart as being wicked. We are told in the Bible that our hearts have no feeling; that God loves us, and yet that we do not appreciate it; that God bestows upon us our daily food, and that He clothes us, and blesses us with every good, and has provided for us mansions in the skies, and that He desires to give us everlasting salvation. He loves us so much that He gave His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, to die for us, and yet with the natural heart no one ever loves God, or appreciates anything that He has done for us. And so God desires, as He tells us in the Bible, to take away, out of our flesh this heart of stone, and give us a heart of flesh, so that we may appreciate and love Him in return for all that He has done for us. The heart is spoken of in the Bible as the seat of the affections, and therefore it is that God desires us to have a new heart, a changed heart, a heart that can love Him. The Bible says that each one is to keep his heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life. We are told also that "the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked." [Illustration: Assaulting the City of Child-Soul.] Many years ago in England there was a man by the name of John Bunyan. I suppose you have all heard of his wonderful book entitled the "Pilgrim's Progress." I hope that many of you have read it. All of you should read it, if you have not yet done so. Get your mother or father to read it for you, if you cannot read it yourself. This man Bunyan also wrote a book entitled the "Holy War." In this book he represents the human soul or the human heart as a city, and calls it the "City of Mansoul." This city has various gates, and at all these gates the enemy is trying to gain admission into the city, so that he may capture it. It is, indeed, a very apt illustration of the human heart. Do you know that your heart is like a city, and that Satan is trying to capture and to get possession of it? Indeed, he may already have possession of it. And when God by His grace shall come and cast out Satan and all his evil companions, they will come back and try to get into the city again. They will come to the various gates of the city; for your heart has various avenues of approach, which may be called gates. There is eye-gate. Satan comes and he appeals to you and tries to get into your heart through the eye. Bad pictures that are posted upon the bulletin boards along our streets, and wicked things upon which you and I ought not to look--worthless papers, bad books--these Satan desires to have us look upon, and in that way get evil thoughts into our minds and wicked purposes into our hearts, so that he can once more get possession of our hearts. Then he comes to ear-gate, and tries to get into our hearts through our ears. There are wicked songs, and bad stories, and wicked words that men pour into our ears, even when we walk along the streets. And so Satan tries to get into our hearts through ear-gate, and he tries to get into our hearts through what I will call mouth-gate. He tempts our appetite, and would have us eat things which would injure us, or to drink that which would harm us. And so he tries to get a boy to smoke, or to drink, if at first only beer, or something else, until at last Satan makes a drunkard of him. So Satan would get into the heart through mouth-gate. And when he cannot get into the heart through mouth-gate, or any other way, he oftentimes approaches mouth-gate by way of nose-gate. By the smell of something that is pleasant he tempts the appetite, and thus would lead us astray. And then he would also approach our hearts through the sense of feeling. There are many wicked things that Satan tempts people to do in order to give them pleasure, and so he seeks to get into their hearts, and to get entire control of them, and in that way to get God out of their hearts. The best thing that you and I can do, is to accept of God's invitation, where He says, "My son, give me thine heart." I trust that you will give your heart earnestly and fully to the Lord Jesus Christ. He will take away this heart of stone out of your flesh, and give you a heart of flesh. He will keep your heart securely for you, if you will only give it fully to Him. QUESTIONS.--Does the stone have any feeling? Are our natural hearts like a stone? Can a human heart that is insensible like a stone be conscious of God's love? Who offers to give us a heart that will be conscious of God's love? Who wrote the book picturing the human heart like a city? Who is trying to capture this city? Through what gates does Satan try to enter? How does he try to get into Eye-Gate? How does he try to get into Ear-Gate? How does he try to get into Mouth-Gate? Can you tell any other methods that he tries? To whom had we better surrender the city of our soul? If we commit the city of our soul to God, will He protect and defend it? Is there any other way of safety? THE POLISHED STONE. PERFECTION THROUGH SUFFERING. SUGGESTIONS:--A piece of polished stone, or a polished jewel, or piece of polished metal will answer for the object to be used. MY LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN: I trust you are all trying to be good, and perhaps while you have been trying to be a follower of Jesus you have desired many things and hoped that God would give them to you, because you were trying to do right, and yet, perhaps, you have been disappointed because God did not grant your wish. You have been seeking to be faithful, and yet, perhaps, sickness has come to you, or disappointment and sorrow. Perhaps sickness and death have come into your family. Your papa or your mamma has been taken away by death, and you have been left very sad and lonely, and you have come to wonder how it is, if God loves you, that He does not grant you just what you wish, and that He permits sickness and sorrow and bereavement to come to you and to your home. [Illustration: Stones Being Prepared for a Great Building Copyrighted 1911 by Sylvanus Stall.] When you have looked about you, you have seen many good people who have been in much distress, oftentimes in poverty, afflicted with sickness, bereaved of their loved ones, and left in great sorrow and disappointment. When you have taken up your Bible you have found that the same was true many hundreds of years ago. David was greatly afflicted. Paul had his thorn in the flesh. The disciples were often cast into prison, and it is very likely that all of them were put to death, as their Master had been before them. Now I want to illustrate to you to-day why God permits sorrow and affliction to come to us. I have here two stones, both taken out of the same quarry. This one is polished and has a very beautiful surface. It is very beautiful, not only to look at, but it would be beautiful in any place you might choose to put it. This other is rough and jagged, and not at all pleasant, either to handle or to look upon. This rough stone can be made useful, but it would be no more useful than any other rough and unsightly stone. It would do very well to place in the foundation of a building, to be all covered up with mortar and have other stones laid on top of it; to be built in the foundation down below the ground, where no one would ever see it. But it would be of no special value in its present condition for anything other than that. I think this polished stone may very properly represent Christian people. For long, long years this stone had been lying peacefully and quietly in its rocky bed. But one day a man who purposed to build a very beautiful palace came along, and he found that the great rocks in a certain portion of the country contained stone that could be polished very beautifully. They could therefore be made very useful in constructing his palace or cathedral. So he sent a large number of men to the quarry and they began to drill great holes in the rock. Now, if these rocks had any feeling you can see at once that they would object to having such great holes drilled into their sides, because it would hurt a great deal. But after the men had the holes drilled they put powder in them and blasted off great pieces of these rocks. Then these great blocks were hauled away and placed in the hands of stone masons, who began with chisels and mallets to cut and carve. After that, with some fine sand or emery, or something of that kind, other men ground and polished the face of the stone until it became very beautiful. [Illustration: Stones Being Polished.] Now, if these stones had had feeling, you can see at once that they would have objected to being chiselled and cut, and carved, and ground, and polished. This process would have hurt so much that the stones would have cried out, and asked to be delivered from such a painful process. [Illustration: "The Beautiful Angel Was Carved Out."] It is related of Michael Angelo, that one day he was passing a quarry where large blocks of beautiful marble were being taken out. In one large block he saw a beautiful angel. He ordered the block to be taken to his studio, or the place where he studied and worked. And then he put his men at work to chisel off the rough corners, and thus to deliver the angel out of the rough pieces by which it was surrounded. After many days and weeks, and perhaps months of working, in which this large block of marble had to submit to a great deal of chiselling and carving, and cutting, and polishing; lo! and behold, the beautiful angel was all carved out and stood complete and perfect. It was polished and was made very beautiful, and when it was set up, it was the delight of every one who looked upon it. But all this, you easily see, was only made possible by that cutting and carving, which would have been very painful to the marble if it had been possessed of feeling. I think you will begin to see that these things which we call troubles and trials, after all, are well calculated by God to bring out that which is noblest and best in us. When you grow older you will come to say like Paul, that you know that "tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed." You will then come to understand that these things "work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory," and like Paul, you will learn to be "patient in tribulation." One time when Paul and Barnabas were at Lystra and healed a cripple, the people were moved against Paul by some wicked Jews from Antioch and Iconium, and they pursued Paul and threw large stones at him and hit him with such great force that he fell down, and they supposed that he was dead. But Paul was not dead, and afterwards when he met some of the Christian people at that and other places, when they talked to him about it, and thought that it was very hard that God should have permitted these wicked people to stone him, Paul told these Christians that "through much tribulation we must enter into the kingdom of heaven." But I must not detain you longer. I want simply to say in closing that when St. John had been banished to the Isle of Patmos and was permitted to have a view of heaven, and looked into that glorious city, he saw a great company, and he inquired of the angel who these people were. The angel replied: "These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the Throne of God and serve Him day and night in His temple; and He that sitteth upon the Throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the Throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of water; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." (Rev. vii: 14-17.) If in our sickness, or sorrow, or disappointment here upon the earth, we are sad or lonely, let us remember that in the happy home to which we go we shall be forever with the Lord, and that all tears shall be wiped away, and that we shall be happy forever and ever on high. It is only through these tribulations that you and I can be prepared to enter heaven. If God were to give us everything we want, like children who are indulged, we would soon be spoiled and would not be fit for the enjoyment of heaven or the companionship of the angels. QUESTIONS.--What is rough stone used for? Does the stone have feeling? If it had feeling, would it object to being cut and chiselled and polished? Could it be used in a great building unless it was first quarried and prepared? How can the rough stone be made beautiful? Can it be polished so that you can see your face in it? Who prepares people to be builded into His kingdom? How does He do this? Who composed the great multitude whom John saw in the glorious city? What had happened to them? What should we remember in times of sickness and sorrow? Why are trials necessary to fit us for heaven? Will we be in the presence of God there and have angels as our companions? ROPES. HABITS AND HOW THEY BECOME STRONG. SUGGESTIONS:--Objects to be used are a spool of thread, a piece of string or twine and a piece of rope. After the sermon has been read, the thread and strings could be used to tie the hands and feet, and thus illustrate how impossible it is to break them when they are wound again and again around the hands and the feet, even though the thread be very fine. So with habits, seemingly insignificant. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: I have to-day a piece of rope, and also some different kinds of string. If I take this rope and try to break it, I find that it is impossible. I do not believe that any five or six ordinary men could pull with sufficient strength to break this rope. I am sure that no twenty boys and girls could pull hard enough to break it. [Illustration: Rope.] Here is a very strong string. Perhaps a couple of boys, possibly four boys, might be able to break it. But here is a thinner string. Possibly I may be able to break this. Yes, I can, but with great difficulty. It takes all the strength I have to break it. Now, here is some that is still thinner. It is about as thick as heavy thread. I can break it very easily. But now, when I take this heavy rope and cut off a piece, if I unwind these different strands, I find that this rope is made by twisting smaller ropes together. If I untwist this smaller rope, which I have taken out of the larger rope, I find that it in like manner is also made of smaller ropes, or strings. If I take these smaller strings, and untwist them, I find that they are made of still smaller strings; if I take any of these smaller strings out of the rope, I can break them easily, but when I twist several of them together, I cannot break them. [Illustration: String.] I think that these smaller cords, out of which this rope is made, will very fittingly illustrate habits. It is a very dangerous thing to form bad habits. We should be very careful to form good ones, but bad ones are very dangerous. The boy who remains away from Sunday-school but once, thinks little of it. The boy who remains away from church, or stays at home from school, or disobeys his parents, or spends the evenings on the streets instead of in the house reading good books, or breaks the Sabbath, or does any one of many things, may think very little of it at the time; but do you know that when we go on repeating the same thing over and over again, the habit grows stronger and stronger until at last we are not able to break loose from that habit? There are men who think that they can stop smoking. They began with only an occasional cigarette or a cigar, until the habit grew upon them, and now possibly they think they are able to stop, but when they undertake to break off smoking, they find that it is a very difficult task, and very few smokers who undertake it succeed permanently. The old habit is likely to overcome them again and again. So it is with swearing, and with telling falsehoods, and with being dishonest, and with drinking liquor, and everything else that men and boys often do. These habits at last become very strong, until they are not able to break loose from them. Now, if you take one of these strong habits from which a man is not able to break loose, and untwist it, you will find that it was made strong by a repetition of small habits. Habits are made strong by doing the same thing over and over again. It is just the same as when I take this spool of thread and wrap it around the feet of a boy. I can wrap it around and around, and while it would be easy for him to break the thread if it was wrapped once or twice, or three or four times around his feet; yet after I have succeeded in placing it ten or twelve, or twenty-five or fifty times around his feet, he is not able to walk at all. [Illustration: Hands Bound.] I could tie his hands by wrapping this small thread around and around, just a few times. At first it could be broken, but after a little it becomes so strong that he is not able to break it at all. So it is with habits. When we do the same things again and again, the habit becomes stronger and stronger day by day, and year by year, until at last Satan has the poor victim bound hand and foot, and he is absolutely helpless. No one is able to come and snap the cords, and set this poor helpless prisoner free, until God in His grace comes and liberates him from the evil habits with which he has bound himself, or with which he has permitted Satan to bind him. It is very important that in the very beginning of life, we should all form the habit of doing those things which are right. The doing of the right may at first afford us but very little pleasure, yet we are to continue to do right, and after a while it will become pleasant for us to do right. [Illustration: Feet Bound.] At first it may not be very pleasant for a boy to go to school. He prefers not to exert himself; not to put forth any mental effort. But after he becomes accustomed to going to school, and to putting forth mental effort, it becomes more and more natural to him, and finally he comes to love study. After he has completed his studies in the primary school, he goes to the intermediate, and to the grammar school, and high school, and possibly to college, and continues to be a student all his life. So it is with going to church; those who begin when they are young and go regularly, Sunday after Sunday, become regular church attendants all their lives. Habits are formed very much like the channel of a river. Gradually, year after year, the river wears its course deeper and deeper, until finally through the soft soil and the hard rock, through the pleasant meadow and the beautiful woodlands, it has worn out for itself a very deep channel in which it continues to flow to the ocean. So the mind, by repeated action, marks out its course. Whether the mental effort or manual work be pleasant or difficult, we become so accustomed to it, that we go on day by day, and year by year doing the same thing. The Bible gives very wise instruction to parents when it says, "Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it." (Prov. xxii: 6.) It has also been wisely said, "Sow an act and you reap a habit; sow a habit and you reap a character; sow a character and you reap a destiny." Be careful, boys and girls, what you do, for by doing anything you are forming a habit. If you do wrong things you will form bad habits, but if you do right things you will form good habits, which are always the best. QUESTIONS.--Are small ropes or strings used to make big ropes? Can you tie a boy's hands and feet with thread so that he cannot make himself free? How are strong habits made? Is it a good thing that habits are formed in this way? Does this make it easy to form good habits? Does it also make it easy to break away at first from a bad habit? Which is easier, to form a bad habit or to break away from it? Who tries to bind us with bad habits? Who alone can break the ropes of habit with which Satan binds us? What does the Bible say about training up a child in the way he should go? WATCH AND CASE. THE SOUL AND THE BODY. SUGGESTION:--A watch and case (preferably a double case) from which the works can be easily removed will answer the purpose. Jewelers often have such old watches that they would be glad to sell for a trifle, or even to give away. A small old clock from which the works can be removed would also answer the same purpose. Keep up the play idea with the children. Older persons may weary of repetition, but to children their play is always new and interesting. After "driving to church", being shown to seats, and after some opening services, let one of the children preach in his or her own language the truth which most impressed them in last Sunday's object sermon, or the truth which they remember from the morning sermon in church, or from any passage of Scripture which they may prefer. No better school of oratory was ever formed, even though the primary purpose is devotional and religious. NOW, boys and girls, what is this that I hold in my hand? (Many voices, "A watch.") I expected that you would say it was a watch. Every boy knows a watch when he sees it, and every boy desires to have a watch of his own--one which he can carry in his pocket, and one which will tell him the time of day whenever he looks at it. But you cannot be sure, even from appearances, that this is absolutely a watch. It might be only a watch-case. In order to tell whether it is a watch, let us open it. After all, it is not a watch. It is only a watch-case. You would not wish to spend your money when you expect to get a watch, and on reaching home find that you have been deceived, and that you had nothing but a watch-case. [Illustration: Watch-case.] Now, boys and girls, what is this? (holding up the works of the watch). "A watch." This time you are right, this is a watch. It is a watch without a case around it. Now we will put the works into the case, and then we will have a complete watch. The works and the case together more properly constitute a watch. [Illustration: A Watch-case and Works.] You have, I suppose, been at a funeral, and have seen the body of the dead man or woman or child lying in the coffin. Unless somebody has told you differently, you may possibly have thought the person whom you had known was lying there in the coffin. But this was not the fact. Every man, woman and child consists of a soul and a body, and when a person dies the soul returns to God, who gave it. God made our body out of the dust of the ground, and when the spirit leaves the body, it is a dead body, and it begins to decay, and soon becomes offensive, and so we bury the body out of our sight, putting it again in the ground, and finally it moulders back again to dust. It is not so, however, with the soul. That is a spirit. When God had made Adam out of the dust of the ground, He breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul. Now, this soul never dies. God has created it to live forever and ever, throughout all eternity. Those who are good and trust in the Lord Jesus Christ will be received at death to dwell forever with the Lord. And those who are wicked and do not repent of their sins, God will banish forever from His presence; for sin is hateful in the sight of God, who cannot look upon it with any degree of allowance. [Illustration: Case and Works Separated.] The moment you look upon a body, without being able to tell how, you can nevertheless quickly distinguish between one who is asleep and one who is really dead. Even animals can tell a dead body. When a dead horse lies along the road, it is very difficult to drive a live horse near to the dead one. The living horse knows at once that the other is dead, although we do not know how he knows it. Now, I want to show you that death does not affect the existence of the soul. I will now lift these works out of the watch case. I now hold the case in my left hand, and the works in my right hand. As these works constitute the real watch, so the soul constitutes the real person, and as these wheels and hands continue to move, and to keep time regularly even after they have been removed from the case; so the soul, when God removes it from the body, continues to exist and to be possessed of all that makes the reasoning, thinking, immortal and indestructible being of man. I might take this case, which I hold in my left hand, and bury it in the ground, but the works would not be affected by this fact, but would continue to run on just the same. Suppose I were to leave this case buried in the ground until it had all rusted away. Then suppose that, as a chemist I could gather up all these particles again and make them anew into a watch case, and then put the works back into the case which had been restored or made anew; that would represent the resurrection of the body, and the reuniting of the soul with the body, which will take place at the resurrection day. Some years ago there was a great chemist, whose name was Faraday. It happened one time in his laboratory that one of the students, by accident, knocked from the table a silver cup, which fell into a vessel of acid. The acid immediately destroyed or dissolved it, and the silver all disappeared, the same as sugar dissolves or melts in a tumbler of water. When Professor Faraday came in and was told what had happened, he took some chemicals and poured them into the acid in which the silver had disappeared. As soon as these two chemicals came together, the acid began to release the silver, and particle by particle the silver settled at the bottom of the vessel. The acid was then poured off and the silver was all carefully gathered up and sent to a silversmith, who melted the silver and made it anew into a silver cup of the same form, design and beauty. It was the same cup made anew. So, my young friends, our bodies may dissolve in the grave and entirely disappear, but God is able to raise them up again. He tells us in the Bible that these bodies which are buried in corruption shall be raised in incorruption, and that these mortal bodies shall put on immortality. I trust that I have illustrated to you how the soul and the body are separated when we die, and God's Word assures us that they shall be reunited again in the morning of the resurrection, for all these dead bodies "shall hear the voice of the Son of God and shall come forth." It matters not whether they were buried in the ground, or in the water, they shall arise from every sea and from every cemetery, and every grave in all the world, and shall live anew and forever, either in happiness with God in heaven, or in misery with Satan in eternal banishment from God's presence. QUESTIONS.--What are the principal parts of a watch? Which part is like the body? Which part is like the soul? Which is the real watch? Could the works alone run and keep time without the case? When does the soul become separated from the body? Does death affect the existence and life of the soul? If a watch case were buried and rusted away, could it be made new again? Does the Bible say our bodies are also to be raised again from the grave? What is that raising up of the body called? Will it make any difference whether a body was buried in the sea or in the earth? ("The sea shall give up its dead"). Whose voice shall call the body to immortality? Will the immortal body ever die? PEARLS. ONE OF GREAT PRICE. SUGGESTION:--A single pearl, or a string of pearls will serve well for illustration. [Illustration: String of Pearls.] MY YOUNG FRIENDS: Here is a whole string of pearls. One time I found a large pearl in an oyster. I thought it might be valuable, and I took it to a jeweler, but he soon told me that it was not worth much, because it was not perfect. It was unusually large, but to be valuable it must be perfectly round and have no defects. When Jesus was upon the earth He told of a merchant who went in search of a very valuable pearl, and when he had found it, he sold all that he had and bought that pearl, in order that he might have the largest and most valuable jewel in all the world. [Illustration: Diving for Pearls.] Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, had a pearl that was worth three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars, and one day she dissolved this costly pearl, and drank it in a glass of wine to the honor of Mark Antony, one of the Roman rulers. There are pearls to-day worth two and three hundred thousand dollars, and possibly more. The pearl in this parable is the symbol of salvation. Now, salvation has cost more, and is worth more than all the farms, and houses, and stores, and wealth of all this nation, and all the nations of all the globe, and all the created universe about us. It cost the life of the Son of God, and it is desirable, therefore, that you and I should obtain it, because of the many blessings it secures to us, both in this world and in the world to come. For two thousand years men from all the largest nations of the earth have gone to the island of Ceylon, seeking pearls. It is a barren and deserted island, but during the months of February, March and April, every night at ten o'clock, many boats sail out about ten miles, to the place where men, with large leaden weights at their feet, dive down through the water until they come to the banks where the large pearl oyster has his home. They quickly pick up several of these oysters and drop them into a basket of network, and in about sixty or seventy seconds are again drawn up by their companions into the boat. Men and women could not have pearls if it were not that these men are willing to risk their lives by diving way down under the water to obtain them. No one could secure salvation had not Jesus left His throne in heaven and come down to this wicked world to suffer and die, that He might make atonement for our sins upon the cross, so that you and I might not perish but have everlasting life--so that you and I might have salvation, both here and in heaven. When I went to the jeweler, he told me that the defects on the pearl which I had found could not be removed and the rough places polished. Diamonds have to be cut and polished. Many precious and costly jewels when found look only like rough stones in the field, but the pearl is perfect when found; nothing can be done to make it more perfect or more valuable. Just so is the salvation of Jesus perfect; no human wisdom can improve upon it. The best book that any man ever wrote has been equaled by what some other man has thought and written. The religion of the heathen can be greatly improved, but the Bible and the salvation which it reveals, man has never been able to equal, much less to improve upon. To-day, as thousands of years ago, pearls are worn as ornaments to the body, but the salvation which Jesus Christ came to bring is an ornament to the soul that possesses it. The pearl is valuable and desirable, because it cannot easily be stolen away from its owner. When Jesus was upon the earth they did not have banks, with large iron safes where people could deposit their money and jewels for safe keeping. There were many robbers then, and people buried their money and valuables. Often the places where these were concealed were discovered, and then all that they had was stolen. A pearl is small, and could therefore easily be hidden in a place of safety. If war occurred, or for any reason a man and his family had to flee from their home or their country, they could easily carry even the most valuable pearls. The owner could hide it in his mouth, or even swallow it if necessary. If a man had much gold, it was too heavy to carry, and it could readily be discovered and stolen. But a pearl was not so difficult to hide and keep. The Bible tells us that salvation is something that the world cannot give, and which the world cannot take away. Daniel had this pearl of great price, and even though the king cast him into the den of lions, he could not get it away from him. His three companions with those hard names, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, had this pearl of salvation, and even in the furnace of fire it was not destroyed or taken from them. If you have this pearl of salvation, you can keep it in spite of all the wicked people in the world; you can hide it away in your heart, and all the armies of the world cannot take it away from you. In sickness or in health it will be yours, and even death itself can not rob you of it. It will stay with you in this world, and it will be your joy and gladness in the world to come. As the merchantman went out seeking the most valuable pearl, so all the world is to-day seeking for something which will satisfy and render their owners happy. There are many good things in this world, but none of them can make any one contented and happy, like the salvation which Jesus gives when we repent of our sins and in faith accept Him as our Saviour. Before you get, or even desire any other pearl, I want each of you to accept of this "Pearl of great price," which is Jesus Christ. QUESTIONS.--Of what is a pearl the symbol in the Bible? Are pearls valuable? Is salvation valuable? Where are pearls principally found? How are they obtained? Are pearls polished like the diamond? Why do people wear pearls? Can we lose pearls by having them stolen? Can we lose salvation? Who would steal it away? Who can give us the "Pearl of great price"? It is well to have the children learn the answers to many of the leading Bible questions. Try them in the following:--Who was the first man? Who was the first woman? Of what did God make Adam and Eve? Who was the first murderer? Who was the oldest man? Who built the ark? Who had the coat of many colors? Who was the strongest man? Who slew Goliath the giant? With what did David slay Goliath? Who was the wisest man? Who was cast into the den of lions? Who went to Heaven in the chariot of fire without dying? Upon whom did Elijah's mantle fall? A goodly number of similar questions are found on pages 25 and 26. COAL AND WOOD. JESUS THE SOURCE OF SPIRITUAL LIGHT AND WARMTH. SUGGESTION:--The objects used to-day can be a piece of wood, a piece of coal, a candle and a piece of electric light carbon, such as are daily thrown away in towns where the arc lighting is used. DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: When Jesus was upon the earth, He said of Himself, "I am the light of the world." Now, I desire to-day to illustrate to you something of the truth which Jesus had in mind when He uttered these words. [Illustration: The Sun and Moon.] We are told in the Bible, that when God created the world, on the fourth day He created the sun and the moon to give light upon the earth, the sun to rule over the day, and the moon to rule over the night. I suppose you all know that the earth is round, and that while the sun is shining on our side of the earth, and making it day here, on the other side of the earth it is night and is all dark. Now, I want to tell you that the sun is the source of all light upon the earth. The sun shines and dispels the darkness, and makes it light. And do you know that the moon does not shine by its own light, but it simply throws back again, as we say, reflects, the light of the sun, just the same as when a boy takes a small piece or looking-glass and throws the light across the street? There is no light in the looking-glass itself, but it simply takes the rays of light which fall upon it from the sun and bends them, or turns them, so that the boy can throw the rays of light across the street, or upon anything that he desires that is in range of him. So the light of the sun falls upon the moon, and is turned again or reflected back upon the earth. God has so placed the moon in the heavens that it reflects the light of the sun upon those portions of the earth which are in darkness. Or, in other words, as He says in the Bible, the moon has been "made to rule the night." So you see that even the moon does not shine by its own light. Jesus Christ is the Sun of Righteousness. All the good there is in the world, all the righteousness, all that is holy and pure, come from Jesus Christ. The Church is also a source of purity, of holiness, of religion, and of Christianity. But the church does not shine of itself. It does not have these influences within itself. All its light is derived from the Sun of Righteousness. All influences which tend for goodness and holiness and purity are derived from the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the source of all that is good, and only in so far as the Church reflects the life of Jesus, and the truth which is revealed in His Word, and in the teachings of Jesus, does it become the source of saving power in the world. [Illustration: Candle, Coal and Wood.] Now, here I have a piece of coal, and a piece of wood, and a candle, and a piece of carbon from an electric light. You might ask me whether the light that comes from the coal when it burns, or the wood when it burns, and the candle when it is lighted, and the electric light when it illuminates the street so brightly, whether they are not shining by their own light? No; they are not shining by their own light. All the light that there is in the wood, or in the coal, or in the candle, or in anything else that makes a light at all, derives its source and origin from the sun. The light that comes from the burning of this wood is simply the releasing of the light that has been accumulated from the rays of light shining from the sun upon the tree while it was growing, year after year, in the field or forest. And now, when it is burning, it simply releases or throws out that light which it received from the sun, and which was stored up in the wood of the tree while it was growing. This coal is simply a portion of a tree which grew many, many hundreds or thousands of years ago, and which, in some great convulsion of nature, was buried deep under the surface of the earth in what we now call coal mines. The coal has undergone some chemical changes, but, nevertheless, all the light there is in the coal is simply that buried sunshine, which was stored up centuries and centuries ago, in the form of vegetables and trees. Now, when it burns in the grate or in the furnace it simply releases that heat and warmth and light, which was stored up in these trees many, many centuries ago. It is simply buried sunshine which God has stored up for our use. The same is true of the light of the candle; if it were not for the light of the sun there would be no light giving power in any oil or tallow, or in this carbon, which is used in the electric light; they all derive their light from the sun itself. Just so it is with all the truth and righteousness there is in the world. When you see a man who is good and Christlike, it is not because that man has the power in himself to be good, but it is because he has received that power from the Lord Jesus Christ. The light of the Sun of Righteousness has shone into that man's heart, and the light that goes out through his daily conduct and character, is only the light of the Son of God shining out through that man. All objects which live in the sunlight drink in this light-giving power, and all people who live daily in the light of the Sun of Righteousness will partake of His nature and of His character, and then live that nature and character in their own daily lives. In this way they do as Jesus commanded, let their lights so shine, that others seeing their good work, glorify their Father which is in heaven. You should be careful to note that Jesus does not say that we ourselves are to shine so that others may glorify us. No, not at all. Many people try to shine or to attract the attention of others to themselves, but that is not what Jesus said or meant, but rather the reverse. Neither are we to attempt to shine, or to attempt to attract the glory or honor to ourselves. Let not yourself so shine, but let your _light_ so shine that others seeing your good works may glorify--not you, but your Father which is in heaven. We must let Jesus Christ shine in and through us. Whenever you see men or women, or girls or boys who are living beautiful Christian lives, it is not they that light up the moral darkness that is in the world, it is Jesus Christ who lives in them and shines through them, that makes them good and holy, and consequently a source of light and blessing to all about them. QUESTIONS.--What does Christ call Himself? What is the source of the light of the natural world? Does the sun shine by its own light? Does the moon shine by its own light, or does it reflect the light of the sun? What is the source of light displayed when coal and wood and other substances are burned? Does all natural light come from the sun? Who is the source of our spiritual light and knowledge? Are the Church and Christian people lights in the world? Do they shine of their own goodness like the sun, or are they like the moon in that they reflect the divine light? Does any person have the power in himself to be good? Where does this power to be good come from? Does Christ want us to shine as lights in the world? Are we to let our lights shine to glorify ourselves, or to glorify Christ? [Illustration] LANTERNS. THE BEST LIGHT FOR OUR PATH. SUGGESTIONS:--A lantern of any kind may be used. If one of the old-fashioned tin lanterns, perforated with holes through which the light was to shine, is available it would add greatly to the curiosity and interest of the children, although these are now very rare, as they were in use a half century ago. After "driving to church", and after preaching by the children and the reading of the following sermon on lanterns, a few Japanese lanterns--one for each of the children--would enable the parents to form a little torch-light procession (although no lighted candles need be in the lanterns). After marching through the different rooms, give the children a talk upon the conditions existing in heathen lands like China and Japan, and the changes which are being wrought through the introduction of Christianity and the work of the missionaries. [Illustration: Old Lantern.] I DO not believe that there is a boy or girl here to-day who could tell me what this thing is, that I hold in my hand. It is a lantern, a very different lantern possibly, from those which any of you have ever seen. This is the kind of lantern that your grandfather and my grandfather used many years ago, in the days when they did not have lamps, and gas, and electric lights, and such things as we enjoy to-day. When I was a small boy in the country we used to have only candles. Later on in life, I remember when they first had fluid lamps, and then kerosene oil, and then gas, and then, as we have it now, electric lights. In the second congregation to which I ministered, there was an old gentleman who had one of these lanterns. He lived some distance from the church, and very dark nights you could always see him coming across the hill, carrying this strange lantern. After the candle was lighted and placed inside, the light shone out through these small holes, and if the wind blew very hard, the light was liable to be blown out. Now, here is a better lantern. David says of God's Word, "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." On a dark night in the country, you could not go out of doors and move about without running up against a tree, or the fence, or falling into the ditch, or soon finding yourself involved in serious difficulties; and on this account people in the country carry a lantern at night. In the Eastern countries where Jesus lived, where they did not have gas and electric lamps to light the streets, when people went out at night they always carried a lantern. And so David said, "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." (Ps. cxix: 105.) [Illustration: "Coming Across the Hill Carrying this Strange Lantern."] When people go out of doors into the darkness with a lantern they do not hold it way up high, but hold it down near their feet, so that they can see the path, and it enables them to walk with security and safety. Sometimes there are men who have gone to college, and have learned Latin and Greek, have studied the sciences and philosophy, and they think they have learned a very great deal. Perhaps afterwards they have studied medicine and become physicians, or have read law and become lawyers, and they think that they are able with all they know to find the true path of blessing through life. They think they have light enough of themselves. They do not seem to know that all about them there is a darkness of great mystery; that sin and death and destruction lurk all along their way through life, and that their pathway is full of snares, and pitfalls, and dangers, but they try to walk with the little light that there is in the human understanding. There is another class of men who go through college and who may, perchance, study much, and the more they study the more they come to realize how little they know, and how much there is beyond them that they do not understand at all. With the little light of human understanding they comprehend how very dense and dark are the mysteries all about them, and so in order that they may walk safely through life, and come at last to the city of eternal safety, they take God's Word "as a lamp to their feet." Just the same as a person in the country carries a lamp in order that he may find his path, so these good people take the Word of God and they make it the lamp unto their feet, and the light unto their path. Boys and girls often look at learned men and women and think that when they get to be as old and to know as much as these people, that then they will know everything. But that is a great mistake. The more we know and the more learned we are, the more we discover that there is still further beyond us that which we do not understand. No one has ever been able to tell how the bread and the meat and potatoes and other food which we eat is made to sustain our life, how it is converted into and made a part of ourselves. How on our heads these things become, or are changed into hair, on the ends of our fingers to nails, and how other parts become flesh, and bone and eyes and ears and teeth. Nobody can understand how the ground in the garden can be changed by some life principle into fruit and vegetables and flowers and hundreds of different things, and yet all this wonderful variety, all growing out of the very same soil, or ground as we call it. And so as you grow older and become more and more learned you will come more and more to appreciate how much there is that you can never understand. There is mystery all about us, and we all need the light of divine truth, the light of God's Word, the Bible as a light to guide us through the darkness and the mysteries that are all about us. If you have ever been in the country upon a dark night and have seen the railway engine come dashing along, with the great headlight that throws the rays of light far down along the track enabling the engineer to see very far ahead of him, you would understand what the Bible purposes to do for us, when God says that He will make it a lamp unto our feet, and a light unto our path. As you grow older, and sorrow and sickness and trials come to you, you will need God's Word to be a lamp unto your feet. And when at last the messenger of death shall come and summon you into God's presence, and you go through "the valley of the shadow of death," you will then need this lamp for your feet, and you will need the Lord Jesus Christ with you, that you may lean upon Him and that you may say as David did: "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." May God give you this light through the journey of this life, and bring you to that city of light and life on high. QUESTIONS.--Why did the people of the East carry lanterns at night? What did David call the Bible? Should the lantern be held above the head, or down near the feet? Which is the best light to our spiritual pathway, human wisdom or Divine revelation? Which is the safer light for us to follow, books which men write, or the book which God has given us? Can we understand all that we find in the book of nature? Can we understand all that we find in the book of revelation? Do they both have the same author? Is God infinitely greater than man? Does this explain to you why we cannot understand all that God has done or said? Can we put a bushel basket into a quart measure?--the smaller can not contain the larger. CANDLES. HOW TO REFLECT, OBSCURE, OR EXTINGUISH THE LIGHT. SUGGESTIONS:--A candle, a silver dollar, a large-necked bottle and a flask-shaped bottle are the objects used. It will add to the interest of the children if the parent will show the simple experiments of placing the bottle over the candle to illustrate how quickly the light is extinguished as the oxygen is exhausted. The same is the result when a light is hid under a bushel. The flame may also be concealed by the dollar; and in a darkened room a polished piece of metal or a small looking-glass will show how the light can be reflected by money properly used in Christ's cause. MY LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN: To-day I have brought some candles in order to illustrate the text, "Ye are the light of the world." In a previous sermon I have shown you how all the light in the world is derived from the sun, and how all the light in the spiritual world is derived from Jesus Christ. Now, to-day I want to show you that we can extinguish this light. While we cannot prevent the sun from shining, or put out the light there is in the sun, yet we can extinguish, or put out the light of a candle. We can blow out the light, we can turn off the gas, we can cut off the electrical current, and thus prevent the carbon from burning and giving light. Just the same as the firemen can extinguish a large fire that is making a great blaze in the midst of a dark night, so we can put out these several lights. Before this candle, which I hold in my hand, can be of any service to me in giving light, it must first itself be lighted. So it is with every person who is born into this world. He has no light in himself. Before ever he can exert any influence for good upon others, or let any Christian light shine, he must come to the Lord Jesus Christ and receive this light. He must be lighted from above. But now after the candle has been lighted, suppose that I take this silver dollar which I hold in my hand, and place it in front of the light, you will see immediately how it makes it impossible for the light to shine out in front of the dollar. Those who are sitting down there in front of me cannot see this light. The light is entirely concealed by the dollar. So some people allow the love of money to gather around their hearts, until at last their money is placed between them and the people whom God intends that they should benefit and bless in this world. Instead of being a help, their money is only a hindrance to their Christian life. They love their money so much that they permit the poor to go hungry, the destitute to be unblessed, and the Church to be without the money necessary to carry on its work. They allow the heathen to die in their ignorance. Selfishly grasping their money, they neglect to do that for which God has given them the means and the money. [Illustration: Light Obscured by Money.] I believe that money is a good thing. The Bible says that it is the _love_ of money, the undue love of it, that is the root of all evil. Money itself is a blessing and not a curse; therefore I want to show you how this dollar can be made to help in making this light shine even more brightly. You will see that if I have this side of the dollar ground off and polished, so that it is very smooth and bright like a little looking-glass, and then place it back of the candle, instead of acting as it did when I placed the dollar between you and the candle, it will then reflect the light and throw the rays of light out further than they could otherwise shine. It helps to accomplish for the candle the same important service which the great reflector does when placed behind the lamp in the headlight of the railway engine, throwing the light way down the track in advance of the coming of the train. In the same way, when a Christian has money, you see how he can readily use it in such a way as to enable him to accomplish a very great and grand work in the world. The man who has lots of money and has a consecrated heart, and who is willing to use his money to help him in his work for Christ, will be able to accomplish very much more than the man who has no money. He can use his money in such a way that it will enable him to cast a light in many a dark corner of the earth, to bring light in many a desolate home, and to cast the rays of his Christian influence even across the ocean into benighted heathen lands. In this way his money can be used as I could use this dollar if it were polished, and thus carry his influence to the ends of the earth and to the end of time, and become a great blessing to himself and to others for all eternity. [Illustration: Money as a Reflector.] Jesus said, "Men do not light a candle and put it under a bushel, but on a candle-stick that it may give light to all that are in the house." There are some people who do not like to let their light shine for Christ. They do not want others to know that they are Christians. They do not want others to know that they are trying to be good. And so they seek to conceal their light, to hide it, as Jesus says, "under a bushel." If you were to light a candle and put it under a bushel, or under a box, the box would prevent it from shining, and therefore you would not know that there was any light at all in the room. But I want to show you, by the aid of this large necked bottle, what is the effect of our trying to hide our light. I have chosen this bottle because you can see through it, and observe what is going on inside of this glass bushel or bottle. The neck being very large, you can readily see that the light is not absolutely smothered. Now, when I place this bottle over the light, you will see how very quickly it begins to grow dim, and then more dim until it dies out altogether. There, you see, it has gone out already! Just as quickly as it burns out from the air in the bottle the oxygen which it contains, the light dies, because it has nothing to feed upon. If I had not placed this bottle over it, it would have continued to burn. [Illustration: Light Under a Bushel.] Just so it is with those who try to hide their light under a bushel. After the light has been placed there, it gradually grows more faint, and more faint, and then goes out in darkness. You can never be a Christian if you are ashamed of Christ. You must be willing to let your light shine; you must be willing to confess Christ before men; you must be willing to have other boys and girls know that you are a Christian, and that you are trying to do right. Then with God's help you will succeed. But if you try to hide your light under a bushel, you will never succeed in being a Christian. Here is another bottle. I am sure that the shape of this bottle will suggest to you the kind of stuff which is oftentimes sold in this kind of a flask. Sometimes when young men have given their hearts to Christ, and young women too for that matter, they go out in company and are invited to take a drink of wine or a drink of beer, or something else, and without any purpose or thought of ever becoming a drunkard, often they soon form the habit of drinking. Soon they have formed a love for the taste of liquor, and before ever they know it, like hundreds of thousands of others who have preceded them, they have become fond of liquor, and are on a fair road to become drunkards. As soon as a young man starts out in this direction he takes the road that leads down to death and destruction, and the love of God which he had in his heart soon dies out. Let me place this bottle over the candle. You will now see how the candle begins to grow dim, and the light shines more and more dim, after a very few seconds, you will find that it goes out in darkness, the same as it did under the other bottle. [Illustration: A Dangerous Bottle.] Let me say to you, always carefully avoid the terrible and destructive influences of drink, of which this bottle is the symbol. If you want to keep the love of God in your heart you must never, never take the first step which leads toward the love of liquor, toward intemperance and a drunkard's grave. QUESTIONS.--Can an unlighted candle give light? Can a candle light itself? Who must first give us the light if we are to be a light to the world? Can the light of the candle shine through a silver dollar? If a silver dollar is polished like a little looking-glass and placed behind the light, what does it do? Does this suggest how we can use our money to send the light to the heathen? Under what kind of a measure does the Bible warn against hiding our light? When people light a candle, do they put it under a bushel or on a candlestick? If it is put under a bushel what is the result? Is that the result with people who are ashamed to be known as Christians? Does intoxicating drink often put out the light of Christian people? How can all persons avoid the use of liquor? (By never taking the first glass.) [Illustration] A BROKEN CHAIN. BREAKING THE WHOLE LAW. SUGGESTION:--A chain of any kind, even a watch chain, will answer. Children could use paste-board and cut out ten links to represent the Ten Commandments. These links could be numbered and the older children could be asked to repeat the Ten Commandments in their order. MY LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN: I have here a chain; it is very strong indeed. It has ten links in it. You will remember how that, more than three thousand years ago, God gave the Ten Commandments to Moses on Mt. Sinai. These Ten Commandments are often called the Decalogue, because there are ten of them; the Greek word _deka_ means ten. [Illustration: A Broken Chain.] Now the Bible tells us that "whosoever will keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all." (James ii:10.) [Illustration: "Suspended Over the Edge of a Great Rock."] When a boy, I often wondered how it was that when a person broke one of the Commandments he was guilty of breaking the whole law. I could not understand it. Now, I desire to illustrate this truth to you to-day. Suppose that I were suspended over the edge of a great rock by this chain. If the chain should break, I would be plunged headlong, hundreds of feet down a very great embankment, upon rocks at the bottom of the chasm, and lose my life. You will readily see that it would not be necessary to break every link in this chain before I would begin to fall. In order to break this chain, it is only necessary to break a single link. The moment one link breaks, the entire continuity of the chain is broken. I think you will see that it is just the same way with the law of God. If you break one of these Commandments, you have broken the law. If you fail to "remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy," or if you disobey your parents, and thus break the Commandment which says, "honor thy father and thy mother," or any other of the Commandments--if you break a single one, you have broken the entire chain of the Ten Commandments. Now, there are a great many laws in this land of ours. There are laws against murder, and there are laws against stealing, and there are laws against getting drunk, and thousands of other laws. If a man simply steals and should be caught in the act and brought before the judge, he would be convicted of the crime and be sent to prison. It is not necessary that a man should be a murderer and a thief and a robber, and should be guilty of breaking all the laws of this land, before he is cast in prison. It is simply enough that he should have violated one law. By breaking only one law he becomes a criminal, and therefore he is cast into prison. The man who has committed but one murder has his entire liberty taken from him. The man who has been caught in the act of stealing but a single time is adjudged a thief, and all his liberty is taken from him. So I think you will see that, in order to become a criminal, it is not necessary that we should break all the laws of the land, but if we break a single law we become criminals. So it is with the law of God; if we break only one of the Ten Commandments we are criminals before God, we are guilty of all. Now the laws which men make in this and every other country are human laws. They are not absolutely perfect. They are changed and improved from time to time. But the Psalmist tells us, and we all know it to be true, that "The law of the Lord is perfect," and God requires us to keep His law. He says, "My son forget not my law, but let thine heart keep my commandments; for length of days and long life and peace, shall they add to thee." (Prov. iii:1.) If you and I are faithful in the keeping of God's law, then we can say like David, "I shall not be ashamed when I have respect unto all of thy commandments." (Psalm cxix:6.) Now, if I take this chain, and attempt to break it, I find that God has not given me sufficient strength. Samson could have snapped it in a moment, but I am not strong enough. God has given to some men much more strength than to others. If I were to pull very hard on this chain so as to break it, where do you suppose it would break first? Why the weakest link in the entire chain would be the first to break. No chain is stronger than its weakest link. So it is with you and with me, our greatest goodness is no greater than our greatest weakness. When men want to think how good they are, they think of the best things they have ever done. But the fact is that no man is better than the worst things he has ever done. A man who has committed murder is a murderer. He might have done hundreds of good things, but the law does not estimate him by the best things he has done. The law estimates that man by the worst thing he has done, and by that worst thing he is judged and condemned. And so it is with you and me before God. The worst things which we have ever done will be the things which will condemn us in the sight of the Judge of all the world. While I am not able to break this metal chain, yet God has made it possible for every person to break the chain of the moral law. God has given human freedom to all men; He has told us what we should do, but He has left us free to obey or to disobey. Now, when we examine into the requirements of the Ten Commandments, we find that everybody has violated some one or more of them at some time. There is not a man or woman or child any where who is not guilty of having broken God's law. And when I turn to the Scriptures, I find in Galatians the third chapter, 10th verse, that God says, "Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them." I see then by God's Word that we are all sinners, that we are all guilty before God, because we have violated His law, and next Sunday I will tell you what is to be done in view of the fact that we are all guilty before God. QUESTIONS.--What are the different parts of a chain called? How many links must be broken in order to break the chain? What did God give to Moses on Mount Sinai? How many commandments are there? Who makes the laws for the nation, the state and the city? Are laws perfect which are made by men? Do human laws change? Is God's law perfect? Do moral laws ever change? Was there ever a time or a place where it was right to lie, or steal or murder? Will there ever be such a time or place? How many murders must a man commit before he is a murderer? How often must he steal before he is a thief? Are men put into prison for breaking a single law? Is the entirety of God's law violated if we break only one commandment? [Illustration] LOOKING-GLASS. SEEING OURSELVES IN GOD'S LAW. SUGGESTION:--The object used is a looking-glass of any desired size. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: In my sermon last Sunday, I showed you that God had made the law perfect, but that none of us has perfectly kept the law, that we have all broken the law, and God has said, "Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them." (Gal. iii:10.) If the law is perfect, and no one has ever kept it perfectly, but all have broken the law in some one way or another, and on that account all are guilty before God, you may ask, what is the purpose of the law? Why did God make the law? Now, I desire to explain that to you to-day. I have here a looking-glass. Now the Bible compares the law to a looking-glass. In the epistle or letter of James, in the first chapter, we are told, "If any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass; for he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was. But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed." (James i:23-25.) [Illustration: Seeing Ourselves in the Looking-Glass of God's Law] In other words, the Bible means to say that the law of God is like a looking-glass. When we read the law of God, we see just what God requires that we should both be and do. He enables us to see what He requires of us. It shows us also how imperfect we are. It shows us our sins. It reveals to us the importance of doing something in order to get rid of our sins. It is just like a man whose face is all dirty. When he goes to the looking-glass and looks into it he sees the dirt upon his face. If he did not look into the glass, other people might see that his face was dirty, but he would not see it himself. But when he looks into the glass, he sees for himself that his face is all black and dirty. Now, when the man finds that his face is all dirty, he does not take the looking-glass with which to wash his face. The looking-glass was not made to wash our faces with. It was only made to show us that our faces needed to be washed. And then, instead of using the looking-glass to wash our faces, we go and use soap and water. Now, the looking-glass did not make the man's face black, neither will it wash his face. It simply shows him that his face is dirty. So it is with the law of God. The law of God does not make us sinful. We are sinful, whether there be any law or not. The law is simply designed to show us that we are sinners, and that we are wicked, and that we need a Saviour. And when this law reveals to us our sin, and shows us our need of a Saviour, it purposes, as we are told in the Scriptures, to lead us to Christ (Galatians iii:24.) No man can cleanse or wash away his sins by the aid of the law. But the law plainly shows him his sins, and then leads him to Christ--to the fountain which has been opened for sin and uncleanness. It is all very beautifully expressed in that hymn which, I trust, you all know: "There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins; And sinners plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains." Now, I want to tell you the effect of coming to this fountain and washing. When we come to Christ our sins and guilt are washed away, and we become more like Christ. And then we grow up into His likeness and into His image. (Eph. iv: 13.) We become more and more like the Lord Jesus Christ from day to day. This change which takes place in our hearts and in our lives is very wonderful. We cannot understand it, but we cease to be intentionally wicked. More and more we become holy. It is this wonderful change which is referred to in Second Corinthians, third chapter and the 18th verse, where it says, "But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." I think now, you will understand why we have the law. It is not to make us wicked, for we are wicked already. But it is to show us our wickedness, it is to reveal to us the fact that we are sinners, and that we are lost and undone without a Saviour. And then it reveals the Lord Jesus Christ to us, and we come to Him, the same as men with blackened faces go to the fountain to wash. So we come with our sins and our guilt "to the fountain which has been opened for sin and uncleanness," and we wash all our sins and guilt away; and then we are changed into His image and into His likeness, from glory to glory, until at last, in the world on high, we awake in the likeness of Jesus. QUESTIONS.--To what does the Bible compare the law of God? For what purpose do people use a looking-glass? What does a man whose face is dirty see in the glass? What does it show that his face needs? Does it suggest that he should wash his face with the looking-glass? What does he use with which to wash his face? What does God's law show us? Does the law make us sinful? Can the law remove the effects of sin? Who is the fountain for the cleansing of our sin? Are we saved by the law, or by the grace of God? RAIN. GOD'S WISDOM AND POWER. SUGGESTION:--A bottle partly filled with dust from the roadway will help to illustrate the condition which would quite universally prevail if the earth were not refreshed with frequent rains. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: In view of the fact that the weather is so very warm, the earth so dried and parched and we have had no rain for a period of weeks, I thought it might be useful to-day to consider what would be the result if God should withhold the rain altogether, and then to tell you how, or in what manner God brings us the rain and refreshes the earth and makes it fruitful. In order that you might see something of the present condition of the earth, I have brought in this bottle some dust, taken from the centre of the road. As I turn the bottle around, you see how dry it is and how it floats in the air, leaving the inside of this bottle all powdered with dust. The dust in this bottle is only a sample of what all the earth would soon become, if God did not send rain at frequent intervals throughout the year. I suppose you could all tell me of a number of instances in the Old Testament where we have accounts of drouths that extended throughout a period of years, and of the hunger and famine and death which followed. When you are out of doors and look about you, you cannot but be impressed with how dry and dusty the trees and grass and everything about you is. If this dry weather were to continue long you could understand that soon everything would wither and die, and if it were to continue for a few years, men and beasts would not only die of thirst, but even the air itself would suck out from our bodies the moisture that is in our blood, and death would speedily follow. But if you were to remove all the moisture from the air, the earth would not only become barren, but it would become intensely cold. It is due to the moisture which is in the atmosphere that the warmth which comes to the earth from the sun is retained near the earth after the sun has gone down. If it were not so, even in a summer's night after the sun has gone down, the coldness which exists above the clouds would quickly come in contact with the earth, and the cold would become so intense that every person and every living thing would be in danger of being frozen to death in a single night. You will remember that the great Sahara Desert is a vast tract of thousands of square miles where no rain falls, and where the heat is intense. There is, however, much moisture in the air that floats over the plains, but the reason that no rain falls is because there are no mountains in that portion of the globe for thousands of miles. Now suppose that there were to be no rain at all, and people should undertake to water the earth by bringing the water from the rivers. On an average of about thirty-three inches of rain fall upon the surface of the entire earth each year, in some places more, in others less. The weight of this water in one single square mile would be nearly two and one-half millions of tons, and if this water which falls upon one single square mile had to be drawn in cars, it would require 100,000 carloads of water to keep this one single mile as wet as God usually keeps it throughout the year by the rain from heaven. I think you will see, from what I have said, that all the cars in the entire United States, and there are hundreds of thousands of them, would not be sufficient to haul water from the rivers for any considerable distance to keep more than ten miles square of earth watered. But you can also see that if all these cars were to be run on a piece of ground only ten miles square, that entire piece of ground would be almost completely covered with railroad tracks, and we would scarcely be able to raise anything on it in the way of grain or vegetables or food of any kind. But even if we could successfully water ten miles square of land, what would that be compared with the absolute necessity of watering the entire continent and all the continents of the globe in order to make life possible upon the earth. Now the question arises, how does God accomplish this great result? [Illustration: Train of Cars.] I suppose you have all noticed the teakettle when it is upon the stove and the steam is coming out of the spout, and around the lid. You have there had a practical demonstration of how God can cause the water, which is 800 times heavier than the atmosphere or the air, to rise and float, for you know that any substance heavier than air will always fall to the earth. In the instance of the teakettle you will see how heat causes the water to become steam and thus to rise in the air and float away, rising to the height of the clouds which float two, three and four and sometimes more miles high above the earth. Now, just in this same way God makes the heat from the rays of the sun to cause that from every river and lake and all the expanse of the ocean, as well as from the surface of the earth, there shall constantly arise a very fine vapor, which, although it is somewhat like steam, is still so much finer that you and I cannot see it with our unaided eyes. It is by means of this vapor that God raises the moisture from the oceans and all bodies of water and from the earth, to fall again in gentle showers. [Illustration: Steam Rising from Teakettle.] But when this vapor has been lifted up from the ocean, you will see readily that if it were to descend again in rain upon the very places from which it had been lifted it would accomplish no good. It is necessary that instead of falling back into the ocean and into the lakes and rivers, it must be carried over the land. So you see that we might aptly compare the vapor to a great pump, by means of which God lifts millions of gallons of water every hour from the sea into the atmosphere. Now just the same as men load grain and fruit and other things into the cars to ship them to some distant place, so God loads these vapors into the atmosphere or into the clouds. When the clouds are all loaded with vapor, or that which is to descend upon the earth in the form of rain, God sends the winds, and these winds blow the clouds from over the ocean far inward over the land until they come to the place where God wants to pour them out in showers and rain, and in snow and blessing. [Illustration: Clouds and Rain.] But now, you will see that there is another difficulty. When all this vast quantity of water is held in the clouds, a mile or two above the earth, if it were to be poured out, it would come with such force upon the earth that it would destroy every living thing. Now, as God used the warmth from the sun as His agent to lift the water into the clouds, so also, when He desires to unload the clouds, to pour the rain upon the earth, He causes the warm air which carries the water to be blown upon by the colder air which floats above it, and as the heat lifted the water, so the cold causes it to descend; and immediately it begins to form as clouds, one particle or atom of moisture touches another, and the two form the larger atom, and these again unite with others, until finally a drop is formed, and it begins to descend and comes down in gentle showers upon the earth as though it were sifted through a very fine sieve. These small drops fall upon the earth so gently as not even to bruise the leaf of the tenderest flower or the tenderest insect that walks upon the earth. Possibly some children may not fully understand, but the older ones will get some idea of the vast quantity of water which God pours upon the earth, when they are reminded that all the water that flows in the rivers has been let down from the clouds. God is daily pumping up from the ocean and other bodies of water rivers as vast as the combined waters of the Mississippi, Missouri, Susquehanna, the Hudson, and every creek and streamlet and river that flows, not only on this continent, but in all the world. And God is doing this constantly by His own infinite wisdom and infinite might. The machinery with which men pump the water from the river for the supply of a single city wears out; but these great engines with which God is constantly keeping the earth supplied with water for man and beast, for tree and flower, for garden and field, never wear out. Truly with the prophet we may exclaim: "He that calleth for the waters of the sea, and poureth them out on the face of the land: the Lord is His name." (Amos v: 8.) From what I have said I think you will all see how constantly we are dependent upon God for everything which we enjoy. If God were to withhold the rain or the sunshine, famine and want and death would soon follow. Yet in the most wonderful way God is constantly providing that with which we are daily to be fed and always to be clothed. God is not unmindful of us. He never forgets, but in His own good time and in His own most wondrous way He sends us the rain and every needed blessing. God never forgets us, but I fear that we often forget Him and forget when we drink the refreshing glass of clear, cool water, that it is God who gave it to us. When you sit down at the table, do you remember that it is God who gives you the food, and do you thank Him for the food which He gives you, or do you, like the unmannerly boy who receives a gift and never thanks the donor, sit down and eat and go away without ever thanking God the Giver? When He watches over and keeps you during the night, do you forget to kneel down and thank Him in the morning? When day after day He clothes you, do you thank him? When He feeds and clothes you, do you love and serve Him, or do you accept of these blessings and then run off and serve Satan, God's great enemy? These are serious questions, and I trust you will think seriously of them, and daily, when you receive God's blessings, that you will turn to Him in grateful thanksgiving and faithful service. QUESTIONS.--What would the entire earth become if there should be no rain? If all moisture were removed from the atmosphere, what would be the result? What is the average rainfall? What is the weight of rainfall in a single square mile? How many cars would it require to carry water for one square mile? How does God accomplish this? How is the water raised up from the sea and the rivers? Can you explain it by the teakettle? Where does God store this vapor? How do the clouds carry the moisture to the places which need it? How does the moisture in the clouds fall? Does God do all things wisely and well? Is God ever unmindful of our needs? Do you ever forget to thank Him? Do you always remember to serve Him? SNOW. THE LESSONS WHICH IT TEACHES. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: When God desired to set Job to thinking, among other questions He asked him: Canst thou enter into the treasures of the snow? (Job xxxviii: 22.) While coming to church to-day, when I saw you frolicking and glad in the midst of the snow, which was falling all about you, I wondered whether you had ever stopped to think much about the snow. So I thought to ask you the question which God asked of Job nearly thirty-five hundred years ago: "Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow?" When you were all so glad on account of this first snowstorm of the winter, did you stop to think that the snow comes from God? Now like everything else which comes from God, the snow is wonderful. No philosopher has ever yet been able fully to explain how the snow is formed and to tell us all about it, and I do not suppose that all the mysteries concerning it will ever be fully and perfectly solved. It is wonderful, however, because it comes down so lightly and noiselessly. It drops upon the earth almost like feathers, covering the ground, hanging upon the limbs of the trees and shaping them into things of strange beauty, piling up on the post by the side of your gate, until perhaps it looks more like the white man from the flour mill than like that to which people tie horses. Yet it comes down so noiselessly that we scarcely notice it. When the snow falls upon the ground a foot deep it is said to be equal in weight to one inch of rain. Now one foot of snow, on one square mile of street, would weigh, it is estimated, about sixty-four thousand tons. If this snow, which covers only one square mile, were placed in wagons loaded with one ton each, and allowing sufficient space for these teams to move one behind another, these wagons would make a string or procession reaching from Philadelphia to New York, and from New York up the Hudson River almost to the city of Albany. I am sure you will be astonished at this, but when you consider that some snowstorms cover thousands of square miles, and are sometimes more than one foot deep, you will see how increasingly wonderful it is that all this great weight falls so gently upon the earth as to produce no disturbance, no shock, and generally goes away as quietly and peaceably as it came. Like everything else that God has made, the snow is very beautiful. Did you ever hear that poem which begins: "Beautiful snow! beautiful snow! Falling so lightly, Daily and nightly, Alike 'round the dwellings of the lofty and low; Horses are prancing, Cheerily dancing, Stirred with the spirit that comes from the snow." We oftentimes think that God is seen in the fields and flowers in the spring and summer, but He is also seen in the beautiful snow of winter. If you will let some of the snow fall upon the sleeve of your coat and then examine it carefully, you will be surprised at its beauty. It is beautiful when examined without a microscope, but much more beautiful and wonderful when examined with a microscope. Each flake is fashioned into stellar shape. It is formed and fashioned by the same hand which made the stars of the heavens and gave them their sparkle and beauty. Each flake is a beautiful crystal. Each somewhat like the others, and yet no two exactly alike. There are hundreds of varieties, each beautiful and all glorious. These beautiful little snow stars are all formed with perfect geometrical accuracy. Some have three sides and angles, some six, others eight, and some have more. One resembles a sparkling cross, while others seem almost like the leaves of an open flower. Some are like single stars, others like double stars and clusters of stars; and although the ground in winter is covered with myriads of them, yet each one is formed with as much correctness and beauty as if God had made each one for special examination and as an exhibition of His infinite skill and divine perfection. [Illustration: Snow-flakes Magnified.] But like everything else that God has made, the snow is also useful. You may possibly have thought of it as affording excellent sport in sliding down hill, enabling you to enjoy a sleigh ride behind horses with jingling bells, affording opportunity for a snow-ball fight, or as furnishing the material for making snow men or snow houses. In all these ways the snow is a source of delight and pleasure to boys and girls, but after all, the snow has a special mission in the world during the severe cold of the winter. [Illustration: A Winter Sleigh Ride.] The severity of the cold is often greatly modified by the presence of snow. The snow forms a warm mantle to protect the grass and grain fields. It wraps its soft warm covering around the plants, and thus protects them from the frost. Many animals also take shelter in the banks of snow, and are thus kept from being frozen to death. The snow of winter is as important in securing our food and blessing as the rain of the summer. As intense heat and the absence of rain produce the great deserts of the earth, so intense cold and the absence of snow would produce barren tracts upon the earth. Now, what are the lessons we may learn from what I have said? I think the first lesson that we may learn is that God does everything perfectly. God is not in a hurry, as boys and girls often are when they do not take time to learn their lessons thoroughly or to do their work carefully. Perfection is one of God's attributes. We are impatient and imperfect. But God wants us to be perfect. We should constantly strive after perfection. We are to seek after perfection here upon earth, and although we cannot hope to attain it fully in this world, yet we shall attain unto it in the world of blessedness beyond. Remember that whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well. I think the second lesson that we may learn from what I have said, is that God does everything with some good purpose in view. God not only has a purpose in all that He does, but He has a purpose for good. Some boys and girls do things with a bad purpose. Now, God does not do anything with a bad purpose, and He would not have us do anything with a bad purpose. He has given us life and being upon the earth in order that we may accomplish something grand and good. What is the purpose of your life? What have you resolved to make the object which you shall seek to attain in this life? Have some noble purpose, some high aim in life. Whatever it shall be, let it always have in view the blessing and good of others and the glory of God. The last lesson from this study of the snow is that God has made it a symbol of purity. God is pure, and He wants us to be pure. Do you put tobacco in your mouth? Then your mouth is not pure. Do you use bad words? If so, your mouth is not pure. Do you use your eyes to read worthless story papers and books, or to look at evil pictures? Then your eyes and thoughts are not pure. Do you permit your ears to listen to improper talk? Then your ears and mind are not pure. Do you harbor bad thoughts in your heart? Then your heart is not pure. Do you defile your body by improper eating and drinking? If you do, then your body is not pure. If you and I desire to be pure, we must go to God and earnestly ask Him as David did when he cried unto God and said, "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me and I shall be whiter than snow." Now let us sing this beautiful hymn: "Wash me and I shall be whiter than the snow." QUESTIONS.--About what did God ask Job, to set him thinking? Where does the snow come from? Does anyone know fully how the snow is formed? Is the snow as wonderful as it is beautiful? What do the flakes look like? Are they all formed alike? Are any two exactly alike? How is the snow useful in winter? Is snow as important in the winter as rain in the summer? Is God ever in a hurry? Are you always patient? What is worth doing well? Does God always have a purpose in whatever He does? Does God expect us to have a noble purpose? Of what is snow the symbol? Does God expect us all to be pure? PLASTIC FACE. CHARACTER IN THE COUNTENANCE. SUGGESTION:--The object used is a small plastic face such as are often sold in toy stores, and even on the streets in large cities. The head of a rubber doll would also answer the purpose. A couple of pictures of faces placed in bottles would illustrate the fact that as the faces are seen through the bottles, so our thoughts are not wholly hidden but shine through our faces. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: Here is a soft plastic face; by squeezing it on the side I can make the face very long, and it looks very sober. If I place the face between my thumb and fingers and press upon the chin and forehead it makes the face short, and makes it have a very pleasant appearance. I can make it look as though it were laughing, or make it seem to be angry and cross. Just so is it with our faces. When we feel pleasant our faces are short and drawn up; when we feel sober, or cross, or angry, they are lengthened and the character of the expression is entirely changed. You would scarcely know the face were you to see it radiant with smiles and pleasantness, and afterwards see the same face when the person is cross or angered. When you look at a person you can tell whether they are in good humor, or whether they are displeased or angry. [Illustration: Frowns and Smiles.] Do you know, boys and girls, that our character and our disposition are seen in our faces? It is impossible for us to conceal our real selves, even though we might try. I will tell you how it is. If I were again and again to press this face only in this way, so as to make it look very long, after a time it would retain this expression. If I were to press it in this other way, so as to make it very short and give it a very pleasant expression, and were to hold it in that position for a very long time, it would assume that expression, and retain it constantly. It is just so with our faces. When a boy is angered again and again the deep lines of his face become more and more permanent, until after a time he comes to have a face which expresses anger. If a boy is kind and good and generous, these feelings express themselves in his face, and if repeated over and over again, day after day and year after year, it becomes a permanent expression upon his face and the boy is known by all who meet him as a good-natured, pleasant and agreeable boy. I suppose that most all the boys and girls here can tell a minister when they meet him on the street. And when you grow older I think you will not only be able to tell that it is a minister, but you may be able to tell, possibly to what denomination the man belongs--whether he is a Methodist, or a Presbyterian, or an Episcopalian or a Lutheran, or to what denomination he belongs. This cannot always be told, but in many instances this can be judged quite accurately. The study of the Bible and the contemplation of holy and good things inscribe themselves indelibly upon the face of those who give them thought and attention. Beneath a good and generous face you will find a good and generous heart. Beneath a bad face you will find a bad heart. If we are Christians we shall become more and more like Christ. We shall grow up into His likeness, and into His image, and into His stature. We are told that not only will we become more and more like Him, but that at last, in the great Resurrection, we shall behold Him as He is, and we shall be like Him. If I were to take some pictures and place them in a bottle they would shine out through the glass, and you could see them. So with the thoughts that are in your heart; they shine out through your face and give expressions to it. Even when the body is suffering pain the heart may be at rest. David, the Psalmist, said that God was "the health of his countenance." Even though his body was suffering pain his face might be pleasant, because God was with him, making him happy in his heart. There is an old adage that says, "handsome is, that handsome does." There are some young persons who may have a pretty face, and yet who may not be righteous and holy in their hearts; but as they grow older their character will shine out more and more, until at last their face shall be entirely changed, and all that is bad in their hearts will appear in their faces. If you want a good face you must have a good heart. Take Jesus into your heart, follow His teachings and imitate His example, and from year to year you will grow more and more like Him. Here is a very appropriate and beautiful poem, which was written by Miss Alice Carey. TAKE CARE. "Little children, you must seek Rather to be good than wise, For the thoughts you do not speak Shine out in your cheeks and eyes. "If you think that you can be Cross or cruel, and look fair, Let me tell you how to see You are quite mistaken there. "Go and stand before the glass, And some ugly thought contrive, And my word will come to pass Just as sure as you're alive! "What you have and what you lack, All the same as what you wear, You will see reflected back; So, my little folks, take care! "And not only in the glass Will your secrets come to view; All beholders, as they pass, Will perceive and know them, too. "Out of sight, my boys and girls, Every root of beauty starts; So think less about your curls, More about your minds and hearts. "Cherish what is good, and drive Evil thoughts and feelings far; For, as sure as you're alive, You will show for what you are." QUESTIONS.--How will a plastic face look when you squeeze it on the head and on the chin? When persons are serious or angry, are their faces lengthened? When people laugh what happens to their faces? Suppose one were to be cross and ugly constantly what would occur? If a person were to laugh constantly, what would be the effect upon their face? Can you tell a minister when you see him? If you put pictures in a bottle do they shine through? Do thoughts in the heart shine through the face? Can you repeat that couplet which begins: "Handsome is--"? If we think Christ's thoughts constantly do we become more like Christ? If we think bad thoughts do we become unlike Him? What book is it which says: "As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he"? [Illustration] SEEDS. THOUGHTS, WORDS, DEEDS--THEIR LIFE AND PERPETUITY. SUGGESTION:--Seeds, or grain and fruit of any kind can be used for illustration. MY YOUNG FRIENDS: I have here to-day quite a variety of seeds. Some of them are very small, and some, as you see, are quite large. The seeds of each class have in them a principle of life, which makes them differ from sand, or small stones of similar size, because if I plant these seeds in the ground they will grow. [Illustration: Different Kinds of Seeds.] When you take different kinds of seeds, there is one thing that is very interesting about them. It is the different kinds of coverings in which they grow. For instance, if you take a chestnut, it grows in a burr with sharp thorny points; others are folded as though rolled up very tightly in leaves, as you will find in the hazel nut or filbert. Some seeds grow in rows, like beans and peas in a pod. Some grow in a very soft bed, like cotton seeds. Some grow imbedded in a downy substance which blows all around, carrying the seed with it, like the thistle, and the light fuzz of the dandelion. Sometimes the seed is buried in the inside of fruit, as in the case of apples, pears, peaches, plums, and various other kinds of fruit. Sometimes it is buried beneath the beautiful leaves of the flower. So you see there is great variety. Now, these seeds may represent words. There are a great many varieties of words. All words have the principle of life in them, because they express thought; and these thoughts when received into our minds develop into action. Therefore we say that words have a principle of life in them, and it is important that we should be careful not to permit bad words to have a place in our minds. Very often you will see boys and girls reading worthless papers which they think will do them no injury. But the fact is, that these boys are influenced in all their living by that which they read in these papers. It might be very light and trifling, but it tends to corrupt the mind, to give the boy false ideas of life, and it gives him such opinions as are not real, and therefore very injurious to any one. It is much better that a boy's valuable time should be spent in reading good books and good papers, and securing such information as will be of value and assistance to him all through life. For the life of every boy and of every girl is a very great struggle, and no boy or girl can afford to waste time in the beginning. If they are ever to amount to anything in this world, it is important that they should begin very early in life. I want to call your attention to another characteristic of these seeds. And that is when a single seed is planted, it grows up and produces a very great number of other seeds. If you plant a seed of wheat, it will produce 30, 60, or sometimes 100 other seeds. If you plant one sunflower seed it might produce as many as 4,000 seeds. If you plant one single thistle seed, it has been known to produce as high as 24,000 seeds in a single summer. If you were to plant only one grain of corn and let it grow until it is ripe, and then plant the seeds again which grew on these few ears of corn, and thus continue to re-plant again and again, we are told by those who have calculated it very carefully, that in only five short years the amount of corn that could be grown as the result of the planting of the one single seed would be sufficient to plant a hill of corn, with three grains in every square yard of all the dry land on all the earth. In ten years the product would be sufficient to plant not only this entire world, both land and sea, but all the planets, or worlds which circle around our sun, and some of them are even a thousand times larger than our own globe. So you see that there is wonderful multiplying power in the different kinds of grain which you plant. So it is with the thoughts and the words which we have in our minds. Good thoughts enter into good acts, and these acts influence others just as though the same thought was sown into their minds, and then it springs up into their lives and influences them. Just so when we have read a book, whether the book is good or bad, its influence goes on reproducing itself, over and over again in our lives, every time in a multiplied form. Suppose with your money you send some Bibles to the heathen, and as a result a single person is converted. Immediately that person would influence other heathen people whom he would meet, and so, one after the other, these heathen would be influenced as the result of what you have done. This good influence would go on repeating itself over and over again, as long as the world shall stand, and only in eternity would the wonderful results of what you have done be fully known. So it is with all that we say and all that we do; it goes on repeating and multiplying itself over and over again. [Illustration: Pyramids.] [Illustration: Egyptian Mummies.] Now, there is another interesting feature of these seeds to which I want to call your attention. And that is that the life in the seed may continue for a very long time, even hundreds of years. Over in Egypt, centuries ago, they built large pyramids, and when a king died, instead of burying his body in the ground, they embalmed it with spices and dried it, so that it would not decay. Then they wrapped it up in cloths, and with these cloths and bandages they sometimes wrapped wheat or some other kind of grain. Some of these mummies, for so they are called, which have been buried possibly twenty-five hundred years, have been found; and when the wheat has been taken out of the hands of these mummies and planted in the ground, under favorable conditions, it has grown just the same as the wheat which was harvested from the fields only last summer. The life which was in the seed had not been destroyed by the many hundreds of years which have passed since it was placed in the hand of the mummy. Some years ago there was a very interesting case of this kind in England. At Dorchester they were digging down some thirty feet below the surface, and at that depth they came upon the remains of the body of a man, with which there had been buried some coins. By the date upon the coins, they knew that this body had been buried at least seventeen hundred years. In the stomach was found quite a large quantity of raspberry seeds. The man had doubtless eaten a large number of raspberries, and then might have been accidentally killed very soon afterward, so that the seeds were not injured by the gastric juices of the stomach. These seeds were taken to the Horticultural Garden, and there they were planted. What do you think! After seventeen hundred years and more, these seeds grew, and in a short time there was an abundant fruitage of raspberries, just the same as though the seeds had been gathered from raspberries which grew only the year before. Although hidden and seemingly dead, yet these seeds retained their life for seventeen hundred years or more. In this same way there is a deathless power in the words which we speak, even though they are spoken hastily and without thought upon our part. Our words have in them the element of a life which is well-nigh endless. You may yourself remember some unkind words which were spoken to you months and months ago. The boy or girl who spoke them may have forgotten all about them, but you still remember them, and they cause you pain every time you think of them. Or it may be that some kind person has spoken tenderly and affectionately to you. The person himself may have been so accustomed to speaking kindly that he forgot entirely what he had said, but his kind words still live in your memory. There is a beautiful hymn written some years ago, which begins: "Kind words can never die." About fifty years ago there were some boys in a school yard playing marbles. Two other boys were playing tag. One of the boys who were playing tag chanced to run across the ring in which the boys were playing marbles. One of these boys was accustomed to speaking ugly words and doing very hasty and cruel things. He sprang to his feet and kicked the boy who had run across the ring, wounding him in the right knee. The injury was of such a nature that the bones of that leg below the knee never grew any more, and as a result, for over forty years that boy has had to walk on crutches. You see how permanent the result of this injury has been; and the results of unkind words may be just as injurious and no less permanent than the unreasonable and wicked thing which this boy did in his anger. You may sometimes be discouraged because the kind words which you speak and the kind deeds which you do seem to fail of a good result. But you can be assured that even though you grow to old age and your body were to be laid away in the grave, yet sometime, in the lives of those who come after you, the good you have done will surely bear its fruitage of blessing. QUESTIONS.--Are there many different kinds of seeds? Do apple trees ever grow from peach seeds? Do good thoughts grow from bad words, or bad thoughts from good words? Do seeds have a principle of life in them? Do words and thoughts have a principle of life? How many centuries have seeds been known to retain their life? Have the teachings of the Bible retained their life for many hundreds of years? Into what do good thoughts turn? (Acts). Into what do good acts turn? (Character). Can any boy or girl afford to use their time in reading worthless books or papers? Do words and deeds have the element of unending life in them? Is it a dangerous thing to get angry? What did one of the boys who were playing marbles do to the boy who ran across the ring? As the result, how many years has the injured boy walked with crutches? Will the good that we do be as permanent as the evil that we might do? SOWING. THE SPRING TIME OF LIFE. SUGGESTION:--The object used is a bag or sack, or a pillow slip would answer the same purpose, hung about the neck as a farmer uses it when sowing seed. While this is not essential, it can be used if desired. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: Spring is the most pleasant season of the year; the snow has melted, the cold weather has passed away, and now the warm, pleasant days have come. The trees are all in blossom, the fields look beautiful, and the air is full of sweetness. If you go into the country at this season of the year you will find the farmers plowing their fields, and some are sowing grain. The spring wheat has already been sown, the oat fields will soon begin to look green, and in the course of a few weeks the farmers will be planting their corn. It must have been at a corresponding period of the year in the East, when Jesus spoke those beautiful words which are found in the 13th chapter of St. Matthew, contained in the parable of the sower who went out to sow. A great multitude of people had gathered to hear the words which fell from the lips of Jesus. They could no longer gain admission into the house, and so Jesus went down by the sea, or the large lake, and getting into a boat he pushed out just a little way from the shore, so all the people standing along the shore could see and hear Him, and then He began to preach to them. Just back of them on the plain was a farmer who was more intent upon sowing his field than upon listening to the words of the Saviour. As Jesus saw him pacing to and fro across the field, scattering the grain in the furrows, Jesus very likely pointed to the man, calling the attention of the multitude to what he was doing, and said to the people, "Behold a sower went forth to sow," and then called the attention of the people to the character of the soil in the different places where the seed fell. In the country the farmers use a sack or bag. After having tied the opposite ends together, they hang this over their neck and shoulder, and with the right hand left free, they march up and down the field, sowing the grain. This sowing is not so common any more, because farmers now often plant their grain fields with a machine called a drill. With this sack suspended about the neck, in this way, the farmer reaches in and takes out a small handful of seed, and then swinging his hand, throws the seed over a considerable portion of the ground. Thus he walks from one end of the field to the other, sowing the seed, until he has the entire field sown and ready for the men who follow with the harrow to cover up the grain. Well, boys and girls, this is the spring-time of life with you. These are the pleasant days and years of your life. You have very little care. Yet it is, nevertheless, the spring-time. You are now making preparations which will tell what is to be the harvest in the later years of your lives. As the farmer goes out and plows the field, so by discipline and by counsel, and by instruction are your parents preparing your minds and hearts that in after years you may enjoy a harvest of great blessing. [Illustration: Behold a Sower went Forth to Sow] In the spring-time of life, when young persons are to do the sowing, they need much careful counsel and instruction. I suppose that there are many boys and girls who, if they were to go into the country, could not tell the difference between wheat and barley, or oats and rye. Some might not even be able to distinguish between oats and buckwheat. If the farmer were to send you out to sow, you would, most likely, sow the wrong kind of grain. In the same manner, it is important that you should be directed by your parents, because they can distinguish between right and wrong. They know what you should do, and what you should not do. Therefore it is important that they should direct you in the spring-time, lest you should sow the wrong kind of grain. And you know the Bible says: "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." [Illustration: Wheat and Tares.] It is not only difficult for those who have never seen something of life in the country, to distinguish between the different kinds of grain which the farmer sows, but even after the grain begins to grow, it is sometimes difficult, even for those who are familiar with country life, to distinguish between the true and the false. In that same thirteenth chapter of the gospel by St. Matthew, to which I referred in the beginning, Jesus tells of a farmer who sowed his field with wheat, and while he slept an enemy came and sowed tares. Of course he could not discover this until the grain began to grow. When it began to get ripe, then for the first could he distinguish between the stalks of the wheat and the stalks of the tares. By doing this wicked thing the enemy gave the farmer a great deal of trouble. Just so it is with you when you have tried to do right, Satan comes and puts evil thoughts and wicked purposes into your mind, and then if you permit these to grow up, you will find that they will give you a great deal of trouble. It is important that only the good seed should be sown in the field of your heart, and in the field of your mind, so that you may have a fruitage that shall be wholly good. Sometimes you see boys and girls who are doing things which you would like to do, but your mother and father tell you that you should not. You may not be pleased because you are restrained from doing what you would like to do. I well remember how my father, when I was a boy, oftentimes used to restrain me from doing what I saw other boys doing. I used to think, at that time, that he was not considerate, and possibly not kind to me. But now that I have grown older, and have seen the results which have come to those boys, some of whom have gone astray, and others who have turned out badly in life, I see how wise my father was. Although I did not feel at the time that he was doing that which was for my good; now I see it all very plainly. In closing, let me say to you, do as Isaiah suggested, "Sow by the side of all waters." That is, be very diligent, that day by day you may do some kind act, which will hereafter spring up into a fruitage of very great good. The Bible enjoins upon both young and old to be very diligent in this work, for it says, "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good." (Eccl. xi: 6.) When you go to school during the week, and to Sunday-school and church service on Sunday, and when being instructed and taught at home, remember that all the instruction you are receiving is like the seed that falls upon the waiting soil in the early spring-time from the hand of an intelligent farmer. In the parable which Jesus spake, He tells how that some of the seed fell by the wayside, some among thorns and some upon stony ground, while others fell upon good ground. While the seed was the same kind in all instances, it was only that which fell upon the good ground which brought forth a fruitage of thirty, sixty and an hundred fold. If the fruitage of your life in the harvest of the after-years is to be abundant in good and blessing, it can only be because you receive the instruction of your parents, your teachers and your pastor into a good and honest heart. Others may sow faithfully, but after all the result must depend upon you. QUESTIONS.--Which is the most pleasant season of the year? Why? What is the farmer's special work in the spring-time? Why is the farmer careful to sow good grain? What period of life is best represented by spring? If the farmer failed to sow in the spring, would he have a harvest in the autumn? How does he know what kind of grain he will reap at harvest time? Does wheat ever produce oats? Or clover seed produce wheat? What happened while the farmer slept? Who sowed the tares in his field? Who sows the tares in our minds? What do we call these tares? Should they be removed or permitted to grow? Should we be thankful to our parents for preventing tares from being sown? In what kind of soil did the grain grow to a fruitage of thirty, sixty and an hundred fold? [Illustration] REAPING. THE HARVEST TIME OF LIFE. SUGGESTION:--The object used is a small sheaf of grain. For this might be substituted fruitage of any kind--apples, peaches, pears, grapes, etc., and after reading the sermon, the parent could apply in the manner suited to the objects used. MY DEAR LITTLE HARVESTERS: Last Sunday I talked to you of spring-time--the spring-time of the year, and the spring-time of life. To-day I have brought a small sheaf of grain to tell us of the harvest-time. The spring-time is very pleasant, the air is fragrant, the birds are singing, and all nature seems to be rejoicing in its freshness and beauty. The world looks just as new and beautiful as it did thousands and thousands of years ago. Each spring it puts on youth anew. [Illustration: Sheaf of Grain.] But when the summer-time comes, when it gets along to the harvest time, along in July and August, then the weather is very warm. The color of the fields has then greatly changed, the blossoms have disappeared from the trees, and we find that everywhere the fruit is beginning to appear. The harvest fields are ripe and are waiting for the husbandmen. There is just about that same difference in life. Youth is the spring-time. It is full of hope, and full of bright prospects. But, as we grow older, and the cares and responsibilities of life multiply, then we begin to bear the toil and labor which comes with the later years. Then we are like the farmer who enters into the harvest field where hard work has to be done under a very hot and scorching sun. A man, called a naturalist, who has devoted a large amount of time to the study of plants, tells us that there are about one hundred thousand different kinds of plants. Each kind of plant bears its own seed, and when that particular seed is sown, it always bears its own kind of fruit. Wheat never yields barley, nor do oats ever yield buckwheat. When you plant potatoes, you expect to gather potatoes and not turnips. An apple tree has never grown from an acorn, or a peach tree from a chestnut. Each seed, always and everywhere, bears its own kind. It is on this account that the Bible says, "Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap." (Gal. vi: 7.) There are some grown persons, as well as children, who think that they can do very wrong things while they are young, and afterwards suffer no bad results. People sometimes say, "Oh, well! let us sow our wild oats while we are young." Now the Bible tells us that if we sow wild oats, we must reap wild oats. Four or five handfuls of wild oats will produce a whole bag full of wild oats when gathered in the harvest of after life. Be assured, my dear friend, that "those who sow to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption," and "those who sow the wind shall reap the whirlwind." "Sow an act, and you reap a habit. Sow a habit, and you reap a character. Sow a character, and you reap a destiny." [Illustration: "The Harvest Fields Are Ripe and Are Waiting for the Husbandmen."] It may seem a long period between the spring and the harvest time of life; but be assured, my dear young friends, that the early years will speedily pass. Before you are aware of it, you will be men and women with all the responsibilities of life upon you, and then you will be sure to reap the reward of what you do now while you are boys and girls. Lord Bacon said that "Nature owes us many a debt until we are old," but nature is always sure to pay its debts. The ancients had an adage that said, "Justice travels with a sore foot," but it usually overtakes a man. A few Sundays ago I told you that as the result of planting a single grain of corn, a fruitage sufficient to plant the entire earth might be secured in only five years. It is told us by historians that, in olden times, the harvest in Egypt and Syria would return an hundred fold for one sowing, and in Babylonia oftentimes two hundred fold for one sowing. Now, if a single grain of wheat were planted in soil as fertile as that of Egypt, at the end of eight years of sowing and reaping, if we had a field large enough, the product would be sufficient to feed all the families of the earth for more than a year and a half. But if we were to undertake to plant one grain of wheat in this way, after a few years we would fill all the fields which would be suited for a wheat harvest. Down near the equator it would be too hot for the wheat to grow successfully. In the north it would be altogether too cold. On the mountain side the soil is not fertile, and oftentimes is very rocky. For these, and various other reasons, it would be impossible to cover any large portion of the earth with wheat, for not every portion would be suited to produce a harvest. Were it not for this fact, in the course of seven or eight years, the entire earth might be made to wave as one vast field of wheat. But there is one truth which God has planted in this world. That truth is God's love manifested in the gift of His Son Jesus Christ for the salvation of all mankind. This truth is suited to every age of the world, to every nation of the earth, to all classes and all conditions of people, and to every human heart. During the past centuries men have been planting and replanting this seed of divine truth, sowing and resowing the earth with it, gathering and reaping the harvest and sowing again. And the days are coming when all the earth shall wave as one vast harvest field, waiting for the reapers of God, who shall gather this blessed fruitage into the garner of the skies. It is your privilege and my privilege, both one and all, to have some part in this glorious work of sowing and resowing, and the Scriptures assure us that "he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seeds, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." (Psalms cxxvi: 6.) AFTERWARD. ANONYMOUS. Now, the sowing and the reaping, Working hard and waiting long; Afterward, the golden reaping, Harvest home and grateful song. Now, the pruning, sharp, unsparing, Scattered blossom, bleeding shoot; Afterward, the plenteous bearing Of the Master's pleasant fruit. Now, the plunge, the briny burden, Blind, faint gropings in the sea; Afterward, the pearly guerdon, That shall make the diver free. Now, the long and toilsome duty, Stone by stone to carve and bring; Afterward, the perfect beauty Of the palace of the king. Now, the tuning and the tension, Wailing minors, discord strong; Afterward, the grand ascension Of the Alleluia song. Now, the spirit conflict-riven, Wounded heart, unequal strife; Afterward, the triumph given And the victor's crown of life. Now, the training strange and lowly, Unexplained and tedious now, Afterward, the service holy, And the Master's "Enter thou!" QUESTIONS.--Last Sunday our lesson was about the spring-time and sowing; what has it been about to-day? What are the only results which a farmer can reap at harvest? If he sowed wheat, what will he gather? About how many different kinds of plants are there in the world? Do peach trees grow from chestnuts? The Bible says, "Whatsoever a man soweth"--can you repeat the rest of that passage? Can boys or young men, girls or young women, sow "wild oats" and reap blessing later on? If we sow "wild oats" what must we reap? If you sow an act, what do you reap? If you sow a habit, what do you reap? If you sow a character, what do you reap? How did the old adage say that justice travels? Could all portions of the globe be converted into a wheat field? Why not? Is the truth concerning God's love and salvation suited to all ages, all nations, and all people? [Illustration] WHEAT AND CHAFF. THE COMING SEPARATION. SUGGESTION:--If the children can secure a few handfuls of some kind of grain and chaff, the idea of separation can be beautifully illustrated by pouring the grain and chaff from one hand to the other, and at the same time gently blowing the chaff, separating it from the grain. By turning it in this manner once or twice and blowing gently, the chaff may be entirely separated from the grain. If a larger quantity were used, it could be poured from one basket or pan to another while blowing the chaff from the grain with a palm leaf or some other fan. This would illustrate how the grain and chaff were separated at that period of the world in which Christ lived. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: I want to read you a very beautiful little psalm, or hymn, or poem, written by David. It was originally written in metre or verse, but poetry when translated becomes prose. This first Psalm of David reads as follows:-- "Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful; but his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in His law doth he meditate day and night; and he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. "The ungodly are not so; but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away; therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; for the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous; but the way of the ungodly shall perish." We find in this Psalm how the righteous are set forth, and how the ungodly are compared to chaff. John the Baptist said of Jesus, "Whose fan is in His hand, and He will thoroughly purge His floor and gather His wheat into the garner; but He will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire." [Illustration: Threshing Grain with Flails.] Now, when you have been in the country, you have observed the wheat growing in the field. If you had been careful to examine it, you would have found that while the wheat is growing the grain is enclosed in a thin covering called chaff, just the same as Indian corn or sweet corn is enclosed by the husks which grow about it. So it is with us; while we are in this world, there are many things which are essential to our growth and well-being. They minister to our physical needs and supply our temporal wants. Although we cannot wholly dispense with these things while we are in this world, yet they are not the sole objects of our living. The wheat does not exist for the chaff, or the husk in which it is enclosed, but the husks or chaff exist for the wheat. After a time, when the harvest comes, the farmer enters the field and cuts down the wheat, and it is then taken to the barn or threshing floor. Years ago, when I was a boy, farmers used to spend a large portion of the winter in threshing grain. They would spread it out upon the floor of the barn and beat it with a heavy stick, which was tied so as to swing easily at the end of a long handle. This was called a flail. Machines for threshing grain were not then common, as they are to-day. When the farmer threshes his grain, he does not do it to destroy the wheat, but simply to separate it from the chaff. The Bible tells us that we must enter into the kingdom of God through much "tribulation." And do you know that the word "tribulation" comes from a Latin word, _tribulum_, which means a flail? So the teaching of this passage of Scripture is, that God places you and me under the flail, and smites again and again, in order that the noblest, best and most Christ-like in us may be separated by trials and tribulations from that which is worthless; and which needs to be cast off in order that just as the farmer gathers the wheat into his garner or granary here on earth, so God may gather us eventually into His garner above. Boys and girls oftentimes have tribulations in this world, just the same as older people do. Disappointments come to them, and because of ambitions which are not lawful or right, purposes which are not in harmony with God's word and with God's will; because of needed discipline, or for some good reason God is tribulating them by sorrows, disappointments and trials, and making them better by means of the experiences through which they are called upon to pass. [Illustration: Winnowing or Separating Wheat and Chaff.] If you have been with the farmer in his barn after he is through with the threshing, you have seen him take the fanning-mill, and perhaps you have turned the crank for him, while he has slowly shoveled the grain into the mill and the chaff was being blown away by the wind set in motion by the revolution of the large fanning wheel. In the olden times they did not have fanning-mills, but when the farmer desired to separate the chaff from the wheat, he did it with a fan. He poured the grain from one basket or box, or some other receptacle, into another while the wind was blowing, or else used a fan to create a draught of wind to blow the chaff, and thus separate it from the wheat. It is this ancient custom to which John the Baptist refers. He says, concerning Christ, "Whose fan is in His hand, and He will thoroughly purge His floor, and gather His wheat into the garner; but He will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire." (Matthew iii: 12.) So God designs to separate from your character, and from mine, that which is worldly and temporal, and worthless so far as eternity is concerned. Take money as an illustration. Now money is essential, and it is well that we should be willing to work hard for it, and that we should be economical in its use, and seek to save our money so that we may use it for good purposes, and that it may be helpful to us in old age. Money serves a very excellent purpose while we are upon earth, but God does not mean that we should make it the chief aim of our life. Therefore, to divert our minds from money in one way or another, financial reverses and failures sometimes come, and thus God seeks to separate the man from the money. We all came into this world empty-handed, and we must go out of it empty-handed. Even though we were worth many millions of dollars we could take no money with us. You might place it in the coffin and bury it with a dead body, but it would not and could not go into eternity with the man's undying spirit. Now, after the farmer has separated the chaff from the wheat, he gathers the wheat into his garner, or into his granary; and so, after God has separated from our nature and character all that is of no use, which is simply earthy, He will gather our souls into heaven, His garner above. While we live upon the earth we should use the things of this world but not abuse them; remembering that finally we must go and leave everything behind us, and that we can take nothing with us into eternity except the characters which we formed here. Wealth and reputation, and all worldly things will have to be left behind us; but character, that which you and I really are, shall never pass away, but shall enter into an eternal state of being on high. All these earthly things are the mere chaff, while character is our real selves. QUESTIONS.--Who wrote the book of the Bible called the Psalms? Can you tell what the first Psalm is about? What is the covering called which is about the grain while it is growing? How are the chaff and grain separated from the straw or stalk? After being threshed, how is the chaff separated from the grain? Are there many necessary things in life which, after all, do not constitute our character? What are tribulations like? Does God separate the essential from the non-essentials in our life? Is character injured or helped by tribulations? Where does the farmer put the grain after it has been separated from the chaff? What is spoken of in the Bible as God's garner? [Illustration] THE HEART. THE MOST WONDERFUL PUMP IN THE WORLD. SUGGESTION:--The objects used are a tumbler of water colored red, a small glass syringe such as can be purchased at any drug store for five or ten cents, also a six-ounce bottle of water colored red. This red coloring can be easily done with red ink. If that is not available, a drop or two of black ink will answer. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: In the 139th Psalm, 14th verse, David says, "I will praise thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Now I want to talk to you to-day about our wonderful bodies, in the creation of which God has so marvelously displayed His infinite wisdom. I suppose you have been either near or inside a factory. You have heard the noise of the shafts and the pulleys and machinery. You have seen the carding machines, and listened to the noise of the great spinning jacks which twisted the cotton and the wool into yarn or thread, and heard the deafening sound of a great many looms as the shuttles flew backward and forward, while the many threads were being woven into cloth. A factory is quite wonderful, but do you know that in your bodies are found the elements of almost all the kinds of machinery that are used in the world? God has so created us that we do not hear the noise of the machinery of our bodies, but if you will place your fingers gently in your ears you will hear a peculiar roaring sound. That sound which you hear is the noise of the machinery of your body, which is in constant motion. Now, the heart, which pumps the blood into all portions of the body, makes the greater portion of this noise. Do you know where your heart is located? I supposed that most of you would point to your left side, because you have so frequently heard it spoken of as being located there. You have seen public speakers and others, when referring to their heart, place their hands upon their left side. But if you will bend your head forward so as to press your chin against your breast, as far down as possible, the heart will be under and a few inches below your chin. It is in the center of the body, and the lower portion of it comes near to the ribs on the left side, and when it beats we can feel it throb by placing our hand upon our left side; but the heart is more nearly in the center of the body, and not wholly at the side. If you were to close your hand as the boys do when they say they make a fist, the size of your closed hand will be somewhat smaller than the heart. [Illustration: Water and Syringe.] In this tumbler I have some water which I have colored with red ink, so as to represent blood. Here is a small glass syringe, such as can be bought for a few cents in any drug store. Now, when I draw this little handle up, you will see how the syringe is filled with this red water, and when I press it down how the water is forced out of the syringe back into the glass. This very clearly illustrates the principle upon which all pumps and steam engines which pump water are made. Even the large fire engine, which throws water such a great distance, is made largely upon this principle. You may possibly have been in the engine room, where the huge pumps force the water into the reservoirs which supply the city with water for drinking and other purposes. From the pumps and the reservoirs there are great pipes which lead the water under the streets to many thousands of houses which compose the city. After the water has been used it is turned into the sewers, runs down into the river and back to the sea, where it is evaporated, rises again in the clouds, and by the wind is carried hundreds of miles over the country. Then it descends again in the form of snow and rain, soaks down through the earth and finds its way again into the springs and great veins of water under the earth, from which it is carried back once more to the city. Thus it is made pure again and again, to be used over and over by the people whom God has created and whom He supplies with water in this way. Now, in somewhat the same way, the heart, which is both an engine and a pump, forces the blood out through the pipes or tubes of our bodies called the arteries, distributing it to every portion of the body, furnishing the materials for building and renewing the muscles and the bones and every portion of our system. Then gathering up that which is worn out and no longer of service, the impure blood returns through the veins back to the right side of the heart, where it is pumped into the lungs and purified by being brought into contact with the air we breathe. The blood is then returned to the left side of the heart, pumped again into the arteries and distributed through all parts of the body, and so it goes on circulating. Thus the blood is pumped by the heart into the arteries and is distributed to all portions of the body, and returned again to the heart, from fourteen to twenty times each hour of our life. In this bottle, which holds six ounces, I have placed some of this colored water, which represents about the quantity which is pumped out of the heart of an adult each time the pulse beats. As I have already intimated to you, the heart is double, and at each throb about one-half the quantity in this bottle is pumped out by the right side, and the other half by the left side of the heart. Now, if the heart were to pump different blood with each pulsation, instead of pumping the same blood over and over again, in twenty-four hours the heart of a man of ordinary size would pump 150 barrels of blood. [Illustration: A Wagon Load of Barrels.] The Bible says that the days of our years are three-score years and ten, or, in other words, that the allotted period of an ordinary life is 70 years. Now, in 70 years the heart would pump 164,389,786 gallons; or, to give it to you in barrels, it would make 4,566,382 barrels. If you were to place six barrels on a wagon, and this would make a good load for two horses, you would have 761,063 loads of these barrels. If you were to place these teams, with the wagons containing six barrels apiece, with 36 gallons each, at a distance of 25 feet apart, it would make a string of teams stretching away 1,778 miles, or as far as from New York City to Des Moines, in the state of Iowa, or from New York City down to the Gulf of Mexico. I think you will now be able to understand what a wonderful little steam engine and pump each of us has within our own breast. And it may surprise you when I tell you that Dr. Buck says that the heart at each throb beats with a power equal to 100,000 pounds. An ordinary engine or pump would soon wear out, but this little engine of the heart goes on beating day and night from the time we are born until we are 70 years of age, if we live to be that old, and even while we rest in sleep, the heart never stops for a moment. Is it any wonder that David said that "We are fearfully and wonderfully made"? I might tell you many other wonderful things about the heart, but this will have to suffice. If the natural heart in these bodies of ours is so wonderful, how much more wonderful still is that heart which is the seat of the moral life and character? As the natural heart is hidden away in these bodies of ours, so the spirit or the soul is spoken of in the Bible as the heart, because it is hidden away in the life which we have in these bodies of ours; and it is this moral character and spiritual life to which the Bible refers when it says, "Keep thine heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." QUESTIONS.--How did David say we are made? Does the machinery in a great factory make much noise? Are our bodies like a factory in this respect? How can we hear the noise inside of our body? Where is the heart located? What does the heart do? Can you tell how water is supplied for a great city? Is the blood carried to all portions of our body in a similar way? How much blood is pumped by the heart in twenty-four hours? What does the Bible say is the allotted years of a person's life? How long a string of teams would it require to carry all the blood which the heart ordinarily pumps in seventy years? Does the heart keep on pumping while we sleep? What is still more wonderful than the physical heart? Can we see either the physical heart or the spiritual heart? Does the fact that you cannot see them prove that you do not have them? Are both necessary to your complete being and existence? [Illustration] THE EYE. THE MOST VALUABLE AND MOST WONDERFUL TELESCOPE. SUGGESTION:--The objects used are a field-glass or opera-glass, spy-glass and sun-glass. MY DEAR LITTLE MILLIONAIRES: You know that when people are very wealthy, have hundreds of thousands of dollars, they are spoken of as millionaires. Oftentimes these rich people do not have any more actual money than poorer people, but they have property which is supposed to be worth a great deal of money. Now, I want to show you to-day that each one of you possesses that which is worth millions of dollars. [Illustration: Field-glass, Spy-glass and Sun-glass.] I want to talk to you about your eyes, and I hope that you will be able to understand that they are worth hundreds and thousands, yes millions of dollars to each of you. In order that I may better illustrate a few of the many wonderful things about the human eye, I have brought this field-glass, and here is a small spy-glass, and also a magnifying lens, or sun-glass, as boys sometimes call them. Inside of this spy-glass and these field-glasses are lenses or magnifying glasses, similar to this sun-glass. They are, however, more perfect, and are so adjusted or related to each other, that when I place this smaller lens of the spy-glass to my eye I also look through the larger lens which is at the further end of the instrument. When properly adjusted, it enables me to see objects which are at a great distance, and to so magnify them as to cause them to seem much nearer to me than they really are. Now, if you take this spy-glass and look at the stars, it will not make them appear any larger than they appear to the eye without the spy-glass. It will assist the eye when I look at the moon or the planets, but not at the stars which are so much further removed from the earth than the moon and the planets. Astronomers have desired something larger and more satisfactory, and so have made the great telescopes, which are simply large spy-glasses. The telescope and the spy-glass, and the field-glasses, are all imitations of the human eye; the same as many of our greatest inventions are only copies of that which God has already created, and which we have but feebly imitated. The eye is a more wonderful instrument than even the largest telescopes which have ever been made. If you desired to look through a telescope at one of the stars or a planet, or the moon, you would have considerable difficulty in directing it so as to be able to see the desired object. Even with this small spy-glass it is very difficult so to direct it as to find a particular star in the heavens at night. It is not easy, even to find a distant object upon the earth. But with these wonderful eyes, with which God has endowed us, you and I can look almost instantly from one star to any other star, and find instantly upon the earth any object which is distinctly pointed out to us. It takes a very experienced person successfully to operate a telescope, but the smallest child can direct and control and use his own eyes successfully. The large telescopes have to be turned and adjusted by machinery, and when it is desired to direct them from one star to another star on the opposite side of the heavens, they even have to turn around the entire roof or dome of the observatory. But you and I do not need any ponderous machinery to adjust our eyes, or to turn them about in order to look in a different direction. We can easily turn our heads by bending our necks, or, if necessary, we can turn our entire body around and look in an opposite direction. In looking from one object to another, our eyes change their direction so quickly that we are not conscious of any effort upon our own part. [Illustration: Small Telescope.] If you were to look through a large telescope, or even one of these smaller spy-glasses, you would immediately discover that when you desire to look at objects at different distances, or in different degrees of light and shade, you would have to constantly adjust the telescope or spy-glass to these different conditions. If you would look at objects which are near, and then turn the spy-glass to look at those which are distant, you would not be able to see distinctly until you had adjusted the lenses to suit the distance. With our eyes the same adjustment has to be made, and yet it is done so quickly and without any conscious effort upon our part, that it seems as if it were not done at all. When we look at an object which is only a few inches from our face, and then turn and look at a distant object, instantly our eyes are adjusted to the difference of distance and varying degrees of light and shade. But what makes this all still more wonderful is the fact that we have two telescopes, two eyes instead of one. Both of these little eye-telescopes instantly adjust themselves, and both adjust themselves to precisely the same necessity. If they adjusted themselves differently we would see two objects instead of one; the same as a drunken man who has lost the use of his muscles and faculties, whose eyes do not work in harmony, and therefore, instead of seeing only one object, he sees two objects and sees them in a confused way. Did you ever think how wonderful it is that when you close your right eye, and look at something with your left eye, that you can see the object distinctly? Now, if you close the left eye, and look at the object with the right eye, you again see the same object distinctly. When you open both eyes and look at the same object, instead of seeing the object twice, or seeing two objects, you see only one object. That is because the eyes work in such perfect harmony, and that is what the Scripture means when it says that you and I should "see eye to eye" in everything that is good. Now there is another thing to which I desire to call your attention, and that is the size of the eye. If you owned one of these very large telescopes which cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, you would be regarded as a very wealthy person, but you could not carry that telescope with you from one place to another. It would be of no service to you in looking upon the beautiful scenes which surround you from day to day. If you wanted to use the telescope you would have to stay where the telescope was, instead of taking the telescope with you where you desired to go. But God has made these little eye-telescopes so perfect, and yet so compact and small, that wherever we go, on land or sea, we can take them with us, and they can be in constant use and give us the most perfect delight and satisfaction. I am sure there is not a single boy or girl who would trade off one of these perfect little telescopes--yes, I will call it a telescope and an observatory also--for God has beautifully encased our eyes, and shielded and housed them more beautifully and satisfactorily than the most perfect observatory which was ever built for any man-made telescope. We would not trade away one of our eyes for one of the finest telescopes in the world, and we would not be willing to give both of our eyes for all the telescopes which have ever been made. But one of these large telescopes and observatories would cost a great deal--even hundreds of thousands of dollars; yet God has _given_ you and me these telescopes, our wonderful eyes. But because God has given them to us they are none the less valuable on that account, and I think therefore that I was correct when I addressed you to-day as little millionaires. Now, God has given you, not simply one eye, but He has given you two eyes, two wonderful telescopes and observatories. He has given you two, so that if by any accident one should be destroyed, you would still have the other to depend upon. God has given you two eyes, and two hands, and two feet; but He has given you only one soul, and if by sin you lose that one soul, then you have lost everything, for the Scripture says, "What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" In Palestine, the country in which Jesus lived when He was upon the earth, the sun shines with wonderful brightness and clearness; the land also is very light in color, and consequently the eyes are oppressed by the glare, just the same as those of you who have ever been at the seashore have experienced the glare while walking along the beach; or, to some extent, like the bright sunlight shining upon the snow in winter. This light color of the soil and brightness of the sun in Palestine are the cause of blindness to many of the inhabitants. When Jesus was upon the earth, one of His greatest acts of mercy to suffering humanity was to open and heal the eyes of those who were either born blind, or who had become blind afterward. Now, in this country of ours, and in all countries of the earth, there are hundreds and thousands and millions of people who are spiritually blind. Jesus Christ is to-day passing by, just the same as when the blind man sat by the roadside near Jericho, when Jesus was then passing by. As that blind man called upon Jesus and said, "Thou Son of David, have mercy upon me," so you and I should call upon God and upon His Son, Jesus Christ, that He would have mercy upon us and open our spiritual eyes. We should make the language of the Scriptures the petition of our hearts, "Open Thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of Thy law." I pray that God may give each of you to see and to understand spiritual things. QUESTIONS.--Instead of money, in what does the wealth of millionaires often consist? Is the human eye worth more than money? Would you take a million of dollars for your two eyes? Are your eyes worth more than telescopes? Which is the more perfect, a telescope or the human eye? Are telescopes adjusted like the eye? Which can be adjusted more quickly? Where are telescopes kept? Are your eyes kept in a little observatory? Why has God given us two eyes instead of one? How many souls has He given us? If the soul is lost, what is the result? What causes so much blindness in the country in which Jesus lived? Did Jesus open the eyes of the blind and restore the sight of people in Palestine? Are many people spiritually blind? Does Jesus wish to give them spiritual sight or vision? [Illustration] THE EYE THE SMALLEST CAMERA, THE MOST VALUABLE PICTURES. SUGGESTION:--The object used is a small camera of any kind. I AM going to address you again to-day as LITTLE MILLIONAIRES. Last week I showed you how your eyes were more valuable than the most costly telescopes, and to-day I want to show you how, in another way, you are little millionaires. Very wealthy people sometimes travel in different countries, and gather very rare and beautiful paintings and pictures, oftentimes paying a thousand dollars, ten thousand dollars, and sometimes very much more for a single painting. Then they bring these paintings all together in their own homes and hang them on the walls, and as the result of the expenditure of many thousands, and sometimes of hundreds of thousands of dollars, they have a very beautiful and rare collection. But God has made you and me the possessors of a vast number of pictures, more beautiful, of greater variety, and infinitely more valuable, than all the paintings that were ever hung upon the walls of any art gallery in the world. [Illustration: Camera.] To illustrate my thought, I have to-day brought a camera. Sometimes such a camera as this is called a Kodak or Snap-shot. As the finest telescopes have been modeled after the human eye, so the camera is only a very imperfect imitation of the human eye. As the spy-glass and telescope have lenses, so does this camera have a lens, which you see here in the front. Just back of this lens is the dark chamber in the camera, and back of it is a ground glass, as you will see here. Now whatever is directly in front of the camera is shown on the ground glass, as you will observe, but in an inverted or up-side-down position. So the eye has its various parts, and as the rays of light pass through this lens and reflect the picture on this ground glass, so rays of light coming from any object pass first through the small opening of the eye, to the retina, where the picture is inverted just the same as upon the ground glass. When this picture is thrown upon the rear wall of the eye, which is called the retina, the seeing nerve, which is called the optic nerve and is connected with the eye, conveys the impression to the brain, and the result is what we call seeing. [Illustration: The Human Eye.] What I have told you is correct, and can easily be proven by a simple experiment with the eye of some animal. If you take the eye of a dead rabbit, and cleanse the back portion of it from the fat and muscles and then hold a candle in front of it, you can see the image of the candle formed upon the retina. If you take the eye of an ox and carefully pare off from the back portion, so as to leave it very thin, and place the eye in front of (or against) a small hole made in a box; then cover your head to shut out the light you will see through the box the picture of any object which is directly in front of this eye of the ox. In both instances they will be in the inverted form. This experiment would fully demonstrate to you that the camera is only an imitation, and a very poor one too, of the human eye. Now when pictures are taken by means of the camera, the negative can not be exposed to the light, but must be taken into a dark room, and be carefully developed by the use of necessary chemicals or liquids. Then specially prepared paper must be used for printing the photographs. This paper must also be kept in the dark until it has been thoroughly washed and cleansed. But, with the pictures which are taken upon the retina of the eye, no such delay and labor is necessary before you can look at them. The moment the eye is turned in any direction, instantly the picture is photographed upon the retina of the eye, and then stamped indelibly upon the memory and becomes a part of ourselves. There is no cost for chemicals, no delay in adjusting the instrument with which the picture is taken, no necessity for carrying around a large camera. The camera has many disadvantages which are not found in the human eye. The camera must be adjusted to objects near or far, and different cameras have to be used for pictures of different sizes and for different classes of pictures. These cameras are costly to purchase, a great deal of time is consumed in securing a few pictures, they are always attended with expense; and when pictures are to be removed from one place to another, the owner is subjected to much trouble and annoyance. Then, the camera also does not give us the colors of the different objects which are before it. That is the reason why, in the beginning, I spoke of these millionaires purchasing such costly paintings, because in the paintings different colors are represented. Now, in the hundreds of pictures which are constantly being taken by your eyes, there are no delays, no expenses, no inconvenience when the pictures have once been taken. Different shades and colors are all clearly represented. And even though you were to stand on a high mountain, where you could look off over one or two hundred square miles of beautiful landscape, all that beautiful scenery would be pictured on the retina of your eye; and the picture, complete and perfect, would not be larger than one-half inch square. What would real wealthy people be willing to give for a perfect picture only one-half inch square, in which the artist had clearly defined every field and tree, the rivers, houses, roads, railways and all the beautiful landscape contained in a vast area of many square miles? Our eyes are wonderful cameras, which God has given us so that we can be constantly taking these beautiful pictures as we pass through life, and look at them not only for the instant, but that we may treasure the pictures up in our memories and make them the rich treasures and joyous heritage of coming years. The older we grow, the more we appreciate these memory pictures of the past--memories of our childhood days, beautiful landscapes, foreign travel, lovely sunsets, the glorious sunrise, green fields and orchards of golden fruit. As you grow old, I suppose the richest treasures in your picture gallery of the past will be the memories of your childhood home, of mother and father, brother and sister. Possibly when you have grown old, you will remember how one day your heart was almost broken, when for the first time you were leaving home; how mother's eyes filled with tears when she kissed you good-bye, and, following you to the gate, how she stood and waved her handkerchief, while home faded from your view as you rounded the turn in the road and realized for the first time that you were launching out into real life for long years of struggle. Just as the hearts of the parents go out in great tenderness toward their son, who is leaving the Christian influences of his home to begin service in a distant city, surrounded by evil influences, and oftentimes by wicked people; so the heart of our Heavenly Father goes out in great tenderness towards you and me, while we are separated from the great eternal mansion of the skies. God's heart yearns over us in great tenderness, and while we live in the midst of the evil of this world we are constantly to remember that God has made us millionaires; not only in the possession of the eyes, and other faculties with which He has endowed us for use here upon the earth, but we are to remember that we are children of the King of Heaven, and that we are heirs of everlasting life and of everlasting glory. We are heirs of God and joint heirs with Jesus Christ, to an inheritance which is incorruptible, undefiled and that "fadeth not away." We are not simply millionaires, but we are heirs of everlasting glory. QUESTIONS.--What instrument for taking pictures is like the human eye? Which can take pictures quicker, the eye or the camera? What is lacking in pictures taken by the camera? Do our eyes show the colors of the objects? Of what is the camera an imitation? Is it expensive to take many pictures with the camera? Why do people pay large sums for oil paintings? Was there ever a picture painted by an artist or photographed with a camera so beautiful as the small pictures taken by the eye? For size, color, variety and convenience, which are the finest pictures in the world? Which pictures are most treasured in old age? FROGS. THE PLAGUES IN EGYPT. SUGGESTION:--Objects: Some paper frogs, which can be purchased at any Japanese store for about five cents each. They are often found also in toy stores. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: I am sure you will all be able to tell me what this object is which I hold in my hand (voices: "Frogs, bullfrogs"). Well, it looks exactly like a bullfrog, and was made to imitate a bullfrog. The bullfrogs I have here are made of paper, and were made in Japan. I bought them that I might show them to you and preach you an object sermon on the subject of the "Ten Plagues in Egypt." [Illustration] You all remember how Joseph was sold by his brethren into bondage in Egypt, how he was cast into prison and afterward taken out and made prime minister over all that land; how during the seven years of plenty he laid up corn for the seven years of famine which followed, and afterward his father and his brethren--in all the seventy persons who constituted Jacob's family--came down into Egypt to be fed. After two hundred and fifty years this family had increased until it numbered nearly two millions of people. Pharaoh had made slaves of them, and compelled them to work in the brickyards of Egypt. The task-masters were very cruel. They beat them with whips, and demanded excessive labor from them. These people were the chosen people of God, and their voice was lifted to God their Father for deliverance from all the wrongs which they suffered. God heard their prayer, and raised up Moses to deliver them out of Egyptian bondage. When Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh to request him to let the Children of Israel go from Egypt to the land of Canaan, which God had promised to Abraham and to his seed after him, Pharaoh would not consent to let them go. He was a proud, wicked king, and God sent ten great plagues upon him and his country, to humble him and cause him to do as God desired that he should do. In the first plague the rivers were turned into blood. This plague lasted seven days, and at the end of that time Moses stretched forth his rod, and all the rivers and ponds and lakes of water brought forth great frogs throughout all the land. They came, not by hundreds, but by thousands and millions, until the frogs covered all that land. They were in the houses of all the people. The king's servants were busy sweeping and carrying them out of the palace, and yet they stole into the rooms, and at night when the king would go to lie down he would find these frogs in his bed-chamber and upon his bed. When his bakers went to make bread for the king, they would find them in the bread-troughs in which they kneaded or mixed the bread, and in the ovens where they baked the bread. The frogs were everywhere in the palace and in the huts of the common people; upon the streets and in the roads; wherever the people walked they stepped upon them, and the king's carriage could not be driven through the streets without crushing thousands of them. The plague was so great that Pharaoh sent for Moses and Aaron, and entreated them to call upon their God that He would remove the frogs; and when God heard the prayer of Moses and Aaron He caused the frogs to die. The people gathered them up in great heaps and these dead and putrefying frogs in the streets and the water of the river caused the air to be loaded with a great stench that filled the nostrils of all the people. After this plague of frogs came the plague of lice, when all the dust of the country was turned into lice, and after that the plague of the flies; and so on through to the last plague, which was the slaying of the first-born, of which I will tell you in another sermon. I wish you would at your earliest opportunity turn to the second book in the Old Testament, the Book of Exodus, and in the early chapters read about these various plagues of Egypt. When you read the account of the various plagues, you will see how after each affliction Pharaoh's heart seemed to relent. He would consent for a time that the Children of Israel might be liberated from their bondage, and depart from Egypt and start on their journey to the land of Canaan. When he was in affliction he would make good promises, but as soon as God had removed the plague, and the sorrow of his people seemed to be ended for a time he again hardened his heart against God, and refused to do what he had promised. Again and again the king refused to do that which he had agreed, and caused the unhappy Children of Israel to continue in their bondage. We may think that we are not wicked like Pharaoh was. We may not be wicked in the same degree, but we are wicked after the same nature and kind; and so God brings upon us various providences, some of which are not very pleasant. God is seeking to educate us by the trials and sorrows and disappointments and afflictions which He permits to come upon us, so that we will be more obedient, and more faithful, and more Christlike. But I suppose you have seen people who were just like Pharaoh. When they were sick they would promise to become Christians, and live good and right lives, and join the Church and be faithful followers of Christ all the rest of their lives. And yet when God would raise them up from their beds of sickness they would forget all their promises, and generally, as it always was in the case of Pharaoh, their hearts became harder and harder. Instead of being better after God had raised them up and made them strong and well, or removed some trial or affliction, they became worse than before. Have you not found something of this also in your own experience? When you have desired something which you have asked your father or mother to secure for you, you have promised that you would run all the errands they asked, or that you would go to school and study your lessons very faithfully, or that you would go to bed cheerfully at night without complaining, or you have made your parents some other promises; and yet, after you have received the object you asked for, you have failed to keep your promise. [Illustration: Moses Leading the Children of Israel Through the Red Sea.] Or, to go a step further, has it not been so with what you have promised God that you would do? You may have entered into covenant with Him, made certain promises, and then afterward forgot to fulfill those promises. Let us always remember when we make promises to God, or to our parents, that we are not to be like Pharaoh. After God has answered our prayers we should not forget to be obedient to Him and to keep our promises. Pharaoh was a great covenant-breaker, but when at last he gave the Children of Israel permission to leave Egypt, and then broke his promise and followed them with his army that he might destroy them, God opened up the waters of the Red Sea and the Children of Israel fled from before Pharaoh. When this wicked king and covenant-breaker saw them, he pursued after them with his horses, his chariots and his army; and when they were all in the midst of the sea, God took away His restraining power from the water which stood piled up on both sides of the way along which the Children of Israel had marched safely, and the water came down in great torrents and buried this wicked king and all his horses and his chariots and his men. So God destroyed this great covenant-breaking king, because after all of the judgments and wonderful miracles which He had wrought before Pharaoh, in order to teach him that Jehovah was God, Pharaoh's repentances were all mere shams. This was a great object sermon which God did before the eyes of all these thousands of the Children of Israel, and it should teach you and me that we are to be honest in all our covenants with God, and be obedient to the will of God in all that we do and say. QUESTIONS.--Upon what king of Egypt did God send the plague of frogs? How many plagues were there? What effect did each plague have upon Pharaoh? Was he honest when he repented? What did he do each time after the plague was removed? What was the last plague? After the death of the first-born, did he allow the Children of Israel to go? After they started, what did he do? How did God enable the Children of Israel to cross the Red Sea? When Pharaoh followed into the sea after them, what occurred? Should we always keep our covenants, both with God and men? If we do not keep our covenants, whom are we like? Will we also be punished? BLOOD. THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER. SUGGESTION:--The object used is a bottle of red ink to represent blood. CHILDREN OF THE COVENANT-KEEPING KING: Last Sunday I talked to you about Pharaoh, as the great covenant-breaking king. I showed you some paper frogs, and told you how after all of God's long-suffering with Pharaoh, He eventually destroyed him and his army in the midst of the Red Sea. Now, to-day I have this bottle, which has this deep red colored fluid in it. This is red ink. But I have brought it not to talk to you about ink, but to talk about something else which is of the same color; namely, of blood. [Illustration: Preparing for the Passing Over of the Angel of Death Copyrighted Sylvanus Stall] You remember that there were ten plagues in Egypt; the first was the turning of the rivers into blood, then the bringing up of the frogs from all the rivers and lakes; and then the turning of the dust into lice; and then the plague of the flies; and then of the murrain which destroyed the cattle; and of the boils which came upon all the people; and of the lightning, and rain, and hail which destroyed man and beast. Then the locusts came which ate up everything that remained; afterward the three days of continuous darkness; and after these nine plagues God had yet in store one great plague which He purposed to bring upon Pharaoh and his people. After each of these plagues which I have named, Pharaoh promised that he would let the Children of Israel go, but instead he hardened his heart and refused to keep his promise. At last God was going to bring upon him and his people the greatest plague of all. (Ex. xii: 1-28.) God told Moses and Aaron to command the Children of Israel that on the tenth day of the month, each family should select either a lamb or a kid and shut it up until the fourteenth day, and in the evening of that day they should kill it. This was to be a male lamb, one year old, and without spot or blemish. The blood, as it flowed from the neck of the lamb, was to be caught in a dish, and with a bunch of hyssop the blood was to be sprinkled upon the door-posts or the door frame, both above and around the door, so that when the Angel of Death whom God purposed to send upon that eventful night, when he should pass throughout all the land of Egypt and see the blood upon the door posts and upon the lintel over the door he would pass by or "pass-over" these houses of the Israelites and would not smite their first-born with death; as would be the case in every other home of the Egyptians throughout all the land. After the Children of Israel had sprinkled the blood upon the door-posts, they were to roast the entire lamb, and they were to eat it with unleavened bread, which was bread baked without yeast, and eat it also with bitter herbs, while at the same time their long, loose garments were to be tucked up under their belts which went around their waists, or as the people in those days would have said, with their loins girded. They were to have their shoes on their feet, and a cane or staff in their hand, so as to be all ready to start out upon their journey at any moment. At midnight, after these Israelites had eaten this "Passover" meal, and had also destroyed, by burning, any portions of the lamb which might remain, the Angel of Death passed through all the land of Egypt and slew the first-born, the oldest in every house, where there was no blood sprinkled upon the door-posts. As soon as the angel had passed by, the people rushed out into the streets in terror and alarm, for in every home there was one or two or more persons lying dead. The Egyptians brought out their jewels and gold and valuables, and offered, not only to let the Israelites retain the jewels which they had already borrowed, but to give them more if they would only depart immediately, so that God should bring no further afflictions upon them. Pharaoh consented to their going, and immediately the Children of Israel started on their long journey to the Promised Land. This eventful night was called, and is to this day called, "the night of the Passover," and to this day the Jewish people still celebrate the Feast of the Passover. It occurs in the spring of the year, and corresponds very closely to our Church festival day, known as Good Friday, at which time we commemorate the crucifixion and death of Jesus Christ upon Calvary. You will see from what I have said, how the lamb which was chosen was a figure of Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, slain from the foundation of the world to take away your sins, and my sins, and the sins of all who would believe on Him. As this passover lamb was a year old, without spot and without blemish, so Jesus Christ was perfect, without blemish, He never committed a sin of any kind; He was but thirty years old when He was crucified, and consequently was young in years. As the blood sprinkled upon the door-posts and the lintels of the doors was the sign by which the Angel of the Lord was to know the homes of the Israelites, and deliver their first-born from death, so the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ cleanses us from all sin and delivers us from eternal death. You and I and all mankind must die, but after this death of the body there comes either everlasting life or spiritual death. Now, when the spirit leaves the body, or is separated from these bodies, we speak of the body as being dead. The death of a person is just the same as when wheat is sown into the ground and is said to die; the life that formerly was in the seed only springs up into the stalk and grows into a new life and into a multiplied fruitfulness. The life of each grain of wheat does not cease to exist, but is simply separated from the seed or grain which was sown in the ground, and lives in the new plant and new grain which springs up. So also when the life or the soul leaves the body, the body is dead, because it is separated from the soul. In like manner also, if the soul is separated from God, the Bible speaks of the individual as being spiritually dead, even while yet living in this world. Now, if because of sin any soul that is banished forever from God's presence, and is eternally separated from God in the next world, that eternal separation of the soul from God is spoken of in the Bible as eternal death. From this eternal death you and I can only be delivered by the blood of the Son of God. Jesus Christ is our Passover Lamb. Neither is He a dead, but a living Savior. "He ever lives above, For me to intercede; His all-redeeming love, His precious blood to plead; His blood atoned for all our race, And sprinkles now the throne of grace." QUESTIONS.--What was the tenth plague? How were the homes of the Israelites to be marked, so that the angel of death would pass over them? How old was the lamb to be that was to be slain? What was to be done with the body of the lamb? When they ate it, how were they to be clothed? (So as to be ready to start immediately upon their journey.) What did the angel of death do where the door posts were sprinkled with the blood? What was the event called? (The Passover.) What people continue to celebrate the Feast of the Passover today? Of whom was the slain lamb the symbol? What is Christ frequently called? From what does the blood of the Lamb of God save us? PINE BRANCH. THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES. SUGGESTION:--The objects used are a green branch of a tree and a glass of clear water. DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: Last Sunday I told you about the Feast of the Passover, how it came to be instituted, and what it signified. To-day I want to talk to you about the Feast of Tabernacles. The Feast of the Passover occurred in the spring, nearly corresponding to our Easter; and at such times when the Israelites from every quarter of the land came up to Jerusalem, as was the custom at the three annual feasts, some provision had to be made for their entertainment. At the Feast of the Passover all the Jews living in Jerusalem had to throw open their homes, and entertain under the cover of their own roofs, all who came to them. They could not decline to receive the thousands of worshipers who came up to the Feast, but were required to afford them a place of shelter in their homes. Therefore it was that before the Feast of the Passover Jesus sent two of His disciples, and told them to go into the city, and they would find a man bearing a pitcher of water; they should follow him and ask him to direct them to a room in his house, where Jesus might eat the Passover with His disciples. (Matt. xxvi: 17; Mark xiv: 13.) [Illustration: Building Booths at Feast of Tabernacles.] At the Feast of Tabernacles, which occurred in the fall of the year, after the harvest and the fruit of the vines and the trees had all been gathered in, it was very different. At this Feast, when the Israelites came up to Jerusalem, not only those who came from a distance, but even those who lived regularly in the city, were required to tent or live in booths made by simply placing some poles in the ground, with other poles reaching across the top, so as to form a roof or covering. This roof was not shingled, but was formed by laying branches of trees upon the sticks which had been laid across from one pole to the other. (Neh. viii: 14, 15.) You now see why to-day I have chosen this branch of a tree to show you in connection with this sermon. I have chosen this to impress upon your mind the character of the arbors used at the Feast of Tabernacles; the tops or roofs of which were formed or made of olive, and willow and pine, myrtle and palm branches. These booths or arbors were to remind the Children of Israel of the journey of their forefathers through the desert, when for forty long years they did not live within the walls or under the roof of any house, but dwelt only in booths. I am sure that you and I would like to have looked in upon Jerusalem at the time when one of these Harvest Home festivals was being celebrated. We would like to have seen the booths on the tops of the houses and along the side of the hills, outside of the walls of the city, and sloping down through the valleys and crowding far out into the country upon the Mount of Olives and beyond. We would like to have seen the bright faces of the happy throngs of people as they moved in procession through the streets, waving their palm branches; and to have listened to the music of the trumpeters of the Temple, as they sounded their trumpets twice every hour throughout the entire day. I am sure we would have been delighted to look down upon the festive crowd at night, when, instead of waving palm branches as they did during the day, they carried bright flaming torches, amid the clashing of cymbals and the blast of trumpets. [Illustration: "He Bore it Aloft as He Ascended the Stairs."] This Feast lasted for eight days. The first day and the last were especially sacred. And now I want to call your attention to this second object which I have; namely, this water, and I want to tell you how it was related to and used at this Feast of Tabernacles. On the morning of each day, while the smoke of the morning sacrifice was ascending in beautiful wreaths in the still air, a priest bearing a large golden bowl, and followed by a long procession of boys and girls waving palm branches, descended the side of the hill to the pool of Siloam, which was in a quiet recess at the foot of Mount Moriah, on the summit of which the Temple was built. When the priest had filled the golden bowl with water from this clear pool, he held it above his head and bore it aloft as he ascended the stairs. As the procession entered the Court of the Temple, the trumpets sounded, and all the throngs of people gathered within its walls took up the words of the prophet and sang, "With joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation" (Isaiah xii: 3), and as the priest came to the base of the altar he poured the water from the golden bowl into a silver basin amid shouts and gladness. Upon the eighth day, "the last day, that great day of the feast" (John vii: 37), the joy was greater than upon any of the other days. The priests in glad procession moved around the altar seven times, singing the Psalms. It was at the last Feast of Tabernacles which Jesus attended, that He stood in the midst of this glad assembly, and beheld their joy as they remembered how God had supplied their fathers with water in the wilderness; and how God had given them a land of streams, and rivers, and wells of water, and it was then when Jesus heard them crying "Hosanna, blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord," that Jesus stood up in the midst of the Temple and of the people and said, "If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink." (John vii: 37.) To those of us who have always lived in the midst of a bountiful supply of fresh, clear, crystal water, these words are not as impressive as they were to the people to whom they were then spoken. For their land was surrounded by deserts, and they lived in the midst of nations whose people often famished and died, because there was not a sufficient supply of water to drink. While we live in a country where there is always an abundant supply of water to satisfy the thirst of the body, yet spiritually, like these people at the Feast of Tabernacles we have the same spiritual needs that they had, and if you and I thirst for the water of life, if we desire everlasting salvation, if we thirst for the knowledge of sacred things and desire to do that which is right, Jesus invites you and me to come to Him, and says to us: "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters." (Isa. lv: 1.) "If any man thirst let him come unto me and drink," (John vii: 37.) "Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." (John iv: 14.) QUESTIONS.--At what season of the year was the Feast of Tabernacles held? How long did it last? In what did the people live or dwell during the Feast? Of what were the booths built? Why did they dwell in booths instead of in their houses at this time? Of what was all this to remind them? Which was the great day of the Feast? On this last day of the Feast what did the high priest bring from the well? By whom was the priest accompanied? Into what did he pour the water from the golden bowl? Of what was this water the symbol? Does every human being thirst for or desire righteousness? Did Jesus invite such to come to Him and drink? Should we always go to Him to satisfy our spiritual hunger and thirst? LEAVES. THE LESSONS WHICH THEY TEACH. SUGGESTION:--Objects: Some autumn leaves or green leaves of different varieties. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: To-day I picked up these few beautiful leaves, which during the summer were lifted aloft on the trees and cast their grateful shadows upon the weary traveler as he journeyed under the scorching rays of the sun. But with the coming of autumn these leaves have faded, and the first frost of winter has tinged them with crimson and glory. I am sure we cannot look upon them without thinking of the words of the Prophet Isaiah, in the sixty-fourth chapter and sixth verse, where he says: "We all do fade as a leaf." [Illustration: Autumn Leaves.] I desire, however, to use these leaves to teach you not only this lesson, but also several others which they suggest. If, during the summer, you go out into a forest and study the leaves, one of the first things which you will notice will be that the leaves which grow upon one kind of trees differ from the leaves which grow upon every other kind of trees. Indeed, if you pick up a leaf from the ground and examine it carefully you will find that the leaf is largely a picture of the tree upon which it grew. The shape of the leaf will correspond very largely with the shape of the tree from which it has fallen. If you study the leaf more carefully you will discover that the veins in the leaf will quite closely resemble the shape of the limbs of the tree. You would not be able to study the different leaves which you pick up without being impressed with the resemblance in many instances between the leaf and the tree upon which it grew. Now, I think that we may learn a very profitable lesson from the leaves in this respect. I think that you will find, when you are able to study with a little closeness of observation, that the scholars of different Sunday-schools are different from each other, at least in some respects. Those who come from the school where good order is maintained, where there are consecrated, devoted teachers who give themselves carefully to the preparation of the lesson, secure the attention of their scholars, impress the truth deeply upon the minds, and hearts and consciences--you will find that the scholars of this school become attentive and orderly, and well behaved, and all the scholars in the school partake of the influences which are exerted over them from Sunday to Sunday. The scholars who attend a school where the superintendent does not keep good order, where the teachers are irregular and disinterested, and where everything is permitted to go along as by mere chance, these scholars will partake of the influence of the school, and will individually become like the school. So you see how important it is that each and every scholar should be attentive and thoughtful, and give the very largest amount of help possible to the superintendent and teachers to render the school orderly, and to encourage the teachers who desire to devote themselves to the teaching of Bible truth and the impressing of the spiritual lessons, so that those who are under their influence may be brought to a saving acquaintance with Christ. What I have said with reference to the Sunday-school is also true with reference to the Church. There is an old saying, that "like priest, like people." When a pastor continues for a long period of years in the same pulpit, ministering to the same people, if he has their sympathy, co-operation and assistance the people will become very much like each other in their spiritual character, and all will become more and more like the pastor and his teachings. If he is godly, and consecrated, and upright, his people will become increasingly so. And you will find not only that each scholar becomes a miniature of the Sunday-school which he attends, but each Christian becomes a miniature of the congregation of which he is a member. But the leaves teach us another lesson. The great trees which you see in the forest are the result of the united efforts and labors of the leaves. Each leaf is gifted with individual power, and together they all drink in the influence of the sunlight and the showers, and unitedly they build up the great oaks and elms and poplars, and all the trees of the fields and forest. The coal, which is now dug from the mines, was once a great tropical growth of forest trees which were afterwards buried by some great convulsion in nature, and now when we dig up the coal and burn it in our stoves we are simply releasing the buried sunshine which was accumulated and stored up by the individual leaves of the great forests of centuries ago. As we look upon the leaves of the trees I think we must be impressed with the fact, that each one labors in his own appointed place. There is no conflict, there is no crowding of one, thinking to exalt himself above the others. There are no little parties of leaves joining together and trying to crowd themselves to the top of the tree, but each and all work faithfully and zealously in the place which God has appointed them. [Illustration: The Budding of the New Leaf.] They are not only faithful workers, but they are unselfish workers. No leaf can have the joy which belongs to another, or the glory of all the leaves. Each leaf has the reward of doing a little, and when its work is done it must drop to the ground and perish in the dust. The work which it has done and the tree which it has helped to build will be its monument and reward. If each leaf gives its life faithfully for the building up of the tree, no leaf can fall to the ground or be shaken from its place by the autumn wind and perish in despair. If you will go into the forest at the autumn period of the year, or go into the orchard and examine where the leaves are about to drop off, you will find that at the base of the stem of each leaf, already there appears the budding of the leaf which is to be unfolded next spring, and even though the leaf withers and falls to the ground, leaving the barren limb alone to battle with the winter storms, yet there is the promise and the evidence that when the gentle breath of spring shall come and break open the icy sepulchres of the winter, these little buds will feel the genial warmth and unfold their green beauty in a radiant springtime of beautiful foliage. So one generation of men may die and pass away, to have their work continued and completed by those who are to come after them. But these leaves also teach us of our mortality. For, as Isaiah says, "We all do fade as a leaf." We are all very apt to forget that we must die. And so each year, when the summer is over and the fruit is gathered, the leaves begin to wither, and the early frost tinges the forests of the closing year, like the sun oftentimes makes the clouds all crimson and glory at the close of the day. These things should teach us that as advancing years come, we also must fade and die. God spreads out before us this great panorama along the valleys and on the hillsides each autumn to teach us that as the leaves perish, so we must also fade and droop and die. But there is one great encouragement, and that is, that although the leaves fall, the tree stands. The leaf perishes, but the tree abides, and year after year, sometimes for centuries, it goes on increasing in stature and in strength, abiding as the giant of the forest. So also, when at last each of us must die, that which we have built shall abide, and what we have received from others and to which we have added our efforts and our labors, others shall receive from us, and they also shall carry on the work in which we have been engaged. So each generation receives and carries on the work of those who have gone before. As the poet has well said, "Like leaves on trees, the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withered on the ground; Another race the following age supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise; So generations in their course decay So perish these when those have passed away." The tree stands a monument of strength and beauty at the grave of all the dead leaves which lie buried at its feet. So what each boy and girl, each man and woman, shall have accomplished of good or evil, will remain after they have perished and passed away, to tell of their lives, and God will note the result. He who says that not even a sparrow can fall to the ground without His notice, and who tells us that the very hairs of our heads are all numbered, He will note our deeds, and He will be our reward. If I were speaking now to older people I might call attention to the fact that the autumn leaves are more beautiful than the summer leaves. And so boys and girls, it seems to me, and it has always thus seemed to me, that there is something more beautiful in manhood and womanhood, during the later years of life, than during the earlier years. Always honor and respect the aged whose heads are gray, whose features are venerable and whose characters are Christ-like. QUESTIONS.--Are the leaves alike on all trees? In what ways are the leaves like the tree on which they grew? Are Sunday-school scholars much like the school that they attend? Are grown people greatly influenced by the pastor who preaches to them, and the people with whom they are associated? Of what are great trees the result? How do leaves accomplish this? When a leaf drops from the tree, what has already started? What do fading and dropping leaves represent? Does the tree abide when the leaves fall? When we die do the great influences which we have helped forward remain to bless the world? Who still notes our deeds when we pass away? Which are more beautiful, summer or autumn leaves? What periods of life are they like? THE TURTLE. MEN LIKE AND YET UNLIKE THE ANIMALS. SUGGESTION:--While it is not at all necessary to present any special objects, it will add to the interest if the parent has a turtle shell or even the shells of oysters, clams or abalone, which are somewhat the same in principle, the outside cover of the animal constituting both its home and defence, although differing from the turtle in other respects. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: I want to show you to-day how in some respect we are like the animals, and how in other respects we are very unlike them. To illustrate what I desire to say I have brought this small turtle shell. From the way that some boys treat flies and bugs, and birds, cats and dogs and all kinds of animals you would suppose that many boys and some girls think that animals have no feeling. Boys who have never suffered any bodily pain themselves, oftentimes act as though they thought that animals could not suffer pain, but in this they are greatly mistaken. Animals can and do suffer pain, the same as people suffer pain, and in order to defend them against their enemies God has provided these creatures of His hand with some means of protecting themselves. The birds can fly away. Some animals, like foxes, have holes in the ground where they can hide. Others, like the squirrel, hide in the hollow trees. Bees can sting. Some cattle have horns for defence, and some others, which are not as capable of defending themselves against the stronger animals, God has marvellously provided with two stomachs. The cow goes out in the field and crops off the grass rapidly and can then go to a place of shelter and lie down, and there, protected from the attack of wild beasts, chew what she has gathered. This is known in the country as chewing the cud. The same is true with sheep; they also bite off the grass and swallow it quickly. It passes into a first stomach and then they can lie down in some quiet place and chew the cud; or in other words chew that which they have hastily bitten off in the fields. [Illustration: The Turtle.] Now the turtle cannot escape from his enemies because he cannot run very rapidly, and so God has covered him with a coat of mail and given him a helmet, a hard, bony covering for the head and this large bony covering for his body, which we can very properly call his house. When danger approaches, the turtle quickly draws his head and his feet into this large shell, and is quite safe from the attack of his enemies. Whatever animal might desire to eat the turtle is prevented on account of this hard outer shell. On this lower part you will notice how the turtle can draw the front portion up more closely, and thus the more securely shut himself within his house. So you see how God has provided all the animals with a means of protection and defense, first, to protect their lives, and secondly, to save them from pain and suffering. While God has thus successfully protected them against other animals, they are not protected against the superior intelligence and ingenuity of man. The birds can fly faster than the man can run, but man can shoot the bird with an arrow or with a rifle. So with all the other animals. Now God has made it right for us to kill animals for food, but it is very wrong for us to destroy animals for the simple pleasure of taking life, and it is also very wicked to inflict pain unnecessarily upon any of the animals. I want to tell you about a boy who was once strolling through the fields with his sister. They found a nest of rabbits. The sister was charmed with the beautiful nest itself and with its living occupants, but the boy teased them, mimicking their squeaks and their struggles. In vain his sister plead with him not to hurt these pretty little creatures, but the wicked boy flung them up into the air one by one and shouted when each fell dead upon the stones. Ten years after the sister sat weeping again by that boy's side. He was in chains, sentenced to be hanged for shooting a farmer who was hunting in a neighbor's field. They were waiting for the awful procession to knock at the cell door. "Sister," he said, "do you remember the nest of rabbits ten years ago; how you begged and prayed, and how I ridiculed? I verily believe that from that day God forsook me, and left me to follow my own inclinations. If I had yielded to your tears then, you and I would not be weeping these bitter tears now." You see how it is that boys who have no regard for the suffering, or the preservation of the life of animals are likely to inflict pain and even to take the lives of people. But I want to call your attention to another respect in which we are like the animals, or perhaps, more correctly, in which the animals are like us. The forms of most all animals have some resemblance to each other, and all are somewhat in form like man. If you take the bird, his wings correspond to our arms, his legs and feet are somewhat like ours, only his toes are longer, and the nails are slightly different in form. If you will take the horse you will see that his neck is longer than ours, that his front legs correspond to our arms, and if you take your fingers and press them together you will see how, if you were to study the anatomy of the horse's foot carefully, it resembles the bones in our hands, and the bony foot of the horse corresponds to the nails on the ends of our fingers, only that in the case of the horse the nails are all in one, forming the hoof, to which the blacksmith nails the shoe. The horse's hoof, however, is not solid as you might think, but only a shell, the same as the nails on the ends of our fingers. [Illustration: Birds.] Now if you were to take the turtle that lives in this shell or house you would find that he also has four legs, the front legs corresponding to our arms, and his hind legs corresponding to our legs and feet. On the end of each of his feet he has nails, the same as you and I have at the extremities of our hands and feet. But I am sure you would say that the turtle was very much unlike us, in that he has such a hard shell of a house which he carries about with him. But if you will feel of your hands you will discover that you have bones inside of your hands. So you have bones in your arms and all through your body. These bones of your body are covered with flesh, so our bones are _inside_ of us. But with this turtle almost all of his bones are made into one bone, and that is on the _outside_ of his body. Our muscles, with which we move our hands and feet and different portions of our body, are attached to the bones which are inside of us. His muscles are attached to the bone which is on the outside of him. So you see that we are like him, in that both of us have bones, only his are on the outside while ours are on the inside. His bone or shell is a covering and a defense. Our bones, on the inside of us, are so constructed as to enable us to defend ourselves also. God has given the turtle a house, but He has given us the knowledge and the skill, so that we can construct our own house. We are created with capacity to till the earth and to subdue the wild beasts of the forest, and with our superior intelligence to be king over all the other creatures which God has created. Now, there are several lessons which we may learn from what I have said. God has protected all animals against their foes. He has not fully protected the animals against us, but He expects us to use our intelligence and our better nature, to be thoughtful and careful not to inflict pain even upon the worm or insect which crawls upon the ground beneath our feet. While our bodies are somewhat like the bodies of birds and beasts, in our moral nature we are not like the animals, but like God. We were made in the moral likeness and image of God. We have intelligence and God has made us to know right from wrong. The animals have no conscience. Cattle do not recognize any wrong when they break out of their owner's pasture and break into a neighbor's cornfield. We do not say that cattle have sinned, because they know nothing of ownership. They do not know what is right and what is wrong, and, therefore, are not accountable beings. In our intellectual, moral and spiritual nature we are superior to everything else that God has created. We have a moral nature. We know what is right and what is wrong, and, therefore, we are accountable beings. God has made us free to follow our own purpose and, therefore, we are to be held accountable. God has created us not for a few days of life upon the earth, but He has made us immortal, and if we have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and accept Him as our Saviour and love and serve Him upon the earth, our condition in the next world will be one of great blessing and happiness. God has given the turtle a house. He has given us intelligence and all the materials and left us to construct the house in which we are to live upon this earth. But in heaven He has built our house for us. Jesus said: "In My Father's house are many mansions." The German translation has it, "In My Father's house are many homes." "I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also." Death may be a misfortune to a poor turtle, but not to a Christian man or woman, or a Christian boy or girl. Death is only the blessed Saviour coming to take us unto Himself. QUESTIONS.--Do animals feel pain? Has God provided for their protection? Does the turtle have bones? Are your bones on the outside or the inside of your body? Where are the turtle's bones principally? How does the turtle protect himself? Tell the story of the bad boy and the little rabbits. Are the forms of animals similar to the form of our bodies? To what part of our body do the wings of the bird and the front legs of a horse or cow correspond? Do animals have a moral nature and a conscience? Are they accountable to God for their conduct? Are we? GRASSHOPPER AND ANT. NEGLIGENCE AND INDUSTRY. [Illustration: The Royal Exchange, London.] THE largest city of the world is across the ocean, in England. In the busiest part of London is a very large building, called the Royal Exchange. On the top of the pinnacle, or tower, of this large stone building is a large grasshopper, and the English people have this legend in reference to it: It is related that some three hundred and seventy-five years ago, a woman, whose purposes we cannot know, might have been seen hurrying along a country lane, some distance outside of the city. Hastening along she came to a gate leading into a field, and looking in every direction to be sure that no one was near, she took off her shawl and wrapped it carefully around a little baby which she had concealed under her arm, and laid it gently by the side of a hedge. And then turning back to the lane, she soon disappeared in the distance. An hour or two later a little girl and a rollicking, frolicking boy, possibly returning from school, were crossing the field. It was in the later days of summer, when butterflies and grasshoppers abounded. As this light-hearted boy was whistling along his way, a large grasshopper bounded across his path, and, true to the instincts of childhood, the boy started in pursuit of the grasshopper. The chase was only begun when the grasshopper crossed the fence and landed in a grain field, which in England is called a corn field. Stooping to catch his prize, the boy discovered near by what proved to be a bright little baby, fast asleep in its mother's shawl. Joyful with the prize which they had found, the boy took it up in his arms, and hastened to his mother, who, although a farmer's wife, with many cares and several children, resolved to adopt the little stranger as her own. [Illustration: Grasshopper.] Years passed on, and the infant boy grew to be a man of industry and economy, and finally became one of the richest and most influential men in the city of London. Queen Elizabeth, who was then upon the throne, often consulted him, and in after years, as an expression of gratitude to the great city in which he had accumulated his wealth, and for the royal favor which had been shown him, he built the Bourse, or what is called the Royal Exchange, and in recognition of the kind Providence which had used the grasshopper to lead the steps of the boy to where the baby was lying in the fields, Sir Thomas Gresham, for that was his name, placed this large grasshopper in stone, upon the topmost pinnacle of this Royal Exchange. While I cannot vouch for the historical accuracy of this legend, yet it beautifully illustrates the truth that God often uses an humble insect for the accomplishment of His great providences. Now, I want to tell you something about the grasshopper, and also about the ant. The grasshopper is very much like that class of boys who want to have a good time, play and frolic from day to day, but never go to school or work, but live for the play and pleasure to be enjoyed each day as it passes. The grasshopper jumps from place to place across the field, eating his food wherever he can find it, and then spends his days and weeks in idleness. He never stops to think that the summer will soon pass away, the fields will then be barren, the cold autumn will come, when the fields will be left desolate and covered with snow. So finally when the autumn comes, he has no food laid up for the winter, but dies of poverty and hunger. This little poem which I read in the schoolbooks, when I was a boy, will tell the whole story: SONG OF THE GRASSHOPPER. I saw a brown old grasshopper, And he sat upon a stone, While ever and anon he chirped In a sad and mournful tone: And many an anxious, troubled look He cast around the naked plain; Where now was but a stubble field, Once waved the golden grain. What ails thee, old brown grasshopper? His voice was low and faint, As in the language of his race He made this dire complaint: "O! in the long bright summer time I treasured up no store, Now the last full sheaf is garnered, And the harvest days are o'er." What didst thou, brown old grasshopper, When the summer days were long? "I danced on the fragrant clover tops, With many a merry song; O! we were a blithesome company, And a joyous life we led; But with the flowers and summer hours, My gay companions fled: Old age and poverty are come, The autumn wind is chill, It whistles through my tattered coat, And my voice is cracked and shrill. In a damp and gloomy cavern Beneath this cold, gray stone, I must lay me down and perish-- I must perish all alone. Alas! that in life's golden time I treasured up no store, For now the sheaves are gathered in, And the harvest days are o'er." He ceased his melancholy wail, And a tear was in his eye, As he slowly slid from the cold gray stone, And laid him down to die. And then I thought, t'were well if all In pleasure's idle throng, Had seen that old brown grasshopper And heard his dying song: For life's bright, glowing summer Is hasting to its close, And winter's night is coming-- The night of long repose. O! garner then in reaping time, A rich, unfailing store, Ere the summer hours are past and gone, And the harvest days are o'er! The little ant is not so foolish. For thousands of years the ant has always been wise and industrious. In the Book of Proverbs, written over twenty-five hundred years ago, Solomon tells us in the thirtieth chapter and twenty-fifth verse: "The ants are a people not strong, yet they prepare their meat in the summer." And in the sixth chapter, sixth, seventh and eighth verses he says, "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise; which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest." You have probably noticed the industry, activity and perseverance of these little ants. They attempt great things. Sometimes you will see one of these little insects carrying a burden which is several times larger than its own body. If they come to a stone, or a log, or some obstacle, over which they must carry their burden, if they do not succeed the first time, they will try again; and even though they should fall, or fail as much as a hundred times, they will persevere until they have accomplished their undertaking. If you watch them, you will see how rapidly they move. They are not lazy, they do not loiter along the way, but are always in a hurry. They work with energy and gather food during the summer, which they lay up for their supply during the winter. Whatever the little ant can gather, it carries home and lays up in store, not for itself alone, but all work together, each laboring for the good and well-being of all the others. [Illustration: Ants.] This grasshopper very fittingly represents the feeling and thought which come into the mind of every boy when he is at first required to work, to go to school and study, when he is being taught to be industrious and useful. When the days are pleasant, boys do not like to go to school. When a pleasant Sunday morning comes in the springtime, they often wish to stay at home, to go out to the park, or to roam about the fields, and if most of the boys and girls had their own way about it, in the beginning, they would live pretty much like the grasshopper. They would get what pleasure they could out of the days as they pass, grow up in ignorance and idleness, and in manhood and womanhood find themselves in poverty and want. I think that pretty much all boys and girls are naturally lazy, and that feeling can only be cured by being required to work, being compelled to go to school and study, and being kept persistently at it from week to week and year to year, until at last they learn to love to work. If the parents of the grasshopper had not themselves been lazy and grown up in idleness, they would have taught the young grasshopper that in the spring and summer he was to look forward to the wants and needs of the winter. The older ants always teach the young ants to work, and in that they are very wise. Perhaps you have seen boys and girls who have learned to work, who are always very active, who seem always to be busy, but after all accomplish nothing of any moment in life. If we want to live to some purpose in this world, we must remember that we should have a purpose worthy of ourselves, and of the great Father in Heaven who has created us. After a few months and years the grasshoppers and the ants and all the insects die, but you and I shall live on forever and ever. These bodies will be laid away in the grave, but our immortal spirits shall still continue to live. The stars in heaven which have been shining for thousands and thousands of years shall eventually grow pale. The sun itself shall cease to shine, and all the heavens and the universe about us shall be rolled together as a scroll. But these immortal spirits of yours and mine shall live on with God throughout all eternity. It is important, therefore, that our industry and our thought and our labor should not be for those things which perish with the using; that we should not simply lay up treasures which we must after a time go away and leave behind us in this world, but that we should lay up treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal; that where our treasure is, there our hearts may be also; and that we may possess and enjoy our treasure throughout all eternity. I hope that every time you see a grasshopper or an ant, you will remember the lesson which I have sought to teach you to-day. QUESTIONS.--What is on the top of the Royal Exchange in London? Who built the Exchange? Why did he put the grasshopper there? Tell all you can about the little boy and girl going through the field. What kind of boys and girls is like the grasshopper? What does the grasshopper do in summer? What happens to him when winter comes? Is the ant like the grasshopper, or is he industrious? What does the Bible say about the ant? How does he spend the summer? Does he have food for winter use? Does each ant work for itself alone? Who teach the young ants to work? Do boys and girls all have to be taught to work? Do all people who are busy accomplish something worthy of their effort? What should we live for? [Illustration] BALANCES. HOW GOD WEIGHS PEOPLE. SUGGESTION:--Objects: A pair of ordinary balances. A very good pair for illustration can easily be made from a piece of wood, a few strings and a couple of little paper boxes. [Illustration: Balances.] DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: I suppose you have all stood on the scales and been weighed. I have here a pair of balances. This was doubtless one of the earliest kind of instruments with which people weighed different things, and it is the kind of scales which are still used when the greatest accuracy is desired. These are called a balance, because when I hold them by this string you will see that this end of the arm and that end of the arm are equal in length and equal in weight and they exactly balance each other. Now when I place anything in the pan on this end of the arm, and place a small weight in the pan on the opposite arm, and then lift the balance up, you will see how I can readily tell how much the piece of metal, or piece of wood, or whatever I have placed in the balances, weighs. In the drug stores they use this kind of scales to weigh medicines, and they can tell accurately the weight of a very small quantity. In the laboratory, or the place where medicines are made, they have this kind of scales that will weigh the smallest particle of dust; even a small piece of a hair laid on the scales can be weighed accurately. In the fifth chapter of the Book of Daniel we read about a king whose name was Belshazzar, who lived in the great city of Babylon, surrounded by a great wall three hundred feet high and eighty feet broad, and with a hundred gates of brass, twenty-five gates on each side of the city, and a street running from each of the gates upon the one side, straight across the city to each of the corresponding gates upon the opposite side, a distance of some twelve or fifteen miles; and then other streets crossing these first twenty-five streets, running between the gates which were upon the other two sides of the city. God had blessed this king of Babylon and given him great wealth and great power; but he became proud and defied God. One night he made a great feast and invited a thousand of his lords and the generals of his army, and sent for the golden vessels of the Temple, which Nebuchadnezzar had brought down from Jerusalem, and Belshazzar drank wine out of these sacred vessels of the Temple. And, like men and women when they drink liquor, they lost their reason, and they praised the gods of gold, and of silver, and brass, and iron, and wood, and of stone, and thus dishonored God; and there appeared in the banqueting hall the fingers of a man's hand and wrote on the wall so that all might see and read it, and these were the words which were written before that wicked king: "Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting." (Daniel v: 27.) Now you see that God weighs men and women, not for the purpose of telling how many pounds their bodies weigh, but He weighs their character, He weighs their conduct, He weighs their purposes, and He weighs their principles, and so He weighed Belshazzar, and He said of him and to him, "Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting." God weighed Belshazzar as though he were placed in this side of the balance, and on the other side of the balance were placed all his opportunities, privileges and his blessings, and all that God had done for him. When God thus weighed him against all these things Belshazzar was found so light that he did not weigh as much as the privileges and blessings which God had given him, and therefore, God said that he was weighed in the balances and was found wanting. In just this same way God weighs you and me, in order that we may see whether or not we weigh enough. Suppose we turn to the twentieth chapter of Exodus and there find what God requires of us. You will find that God says, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; and showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments." [Illustration: "Thou Art Weighed in the Balances, and Art Found Wanting."] Now suppose I place this requirement in one side of the balance, and then ask you to place your obedience to this requirement in the other side of the balance. I am sure there are a great many grown men and women who could not be weighed against this requirement. If a man loves money, so that he sacrifices his obedience to God, or sacrifices his character, or gives too large an amount of time to money-making, and money-getting; if his love of money is very great, you see how he makes money a sort of a god--that is, that he exalts his love of money above his love of God. In the same way a person can worship pleasure, and ease, and fame in such a way as to exalt these above God. Now any one who has done this, cannot be weighed against this requirement of God's law without being found wanting. If we take the next Commandment, it reads, "Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain." Now anybody who has ever sworn cannot be weighed against this Commandment. A man who curses and swears is a very wicked man. I hope that none of you, boys or girls, will ever profane God's name and disgrace yourself by swearing. I want to caution you, also, against the use of by-words. Sometimes boys swear without knowing it; they say "By Jiminy." Now, the word "Gemini" means "Twins," and refers to two heathen gods whose names were "Castor" and "Pollux," and when boys use the expression, "By Jiminy," they are swearing by those two heathen gods. Jesus said, "Swear not at all." (Matt. v: 34.) Then not only those who literally swear, but all those who use God's name without reverence and who make light of sacred things break this Commandment. So you see that many are not able to be weighed against this Commandment. Then take the next: "Remember the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy." There are many people who remember the Sabbath Day simply to make it the occasion of visiting, letter writing, and to enjoy a trip into the country, or in the park. They remember the Sabbath Day, but they do not remember it to keep it holy. So you see that you would not be able to be weighed against that requirement. Now take the next: "Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." If God were to come into this community and weigh the boys and girls against this Commandment, how many do you think would be found to whom God would turn and say, as He did to Belshazzar: "Thou art weighed and art found wanting"? Any boy or girl who speaks of his father as "The old man," and of his mother as "The old woman"; any boy or girl who is disobedient; any girl who yesterday when mother asked her to dust the furniture, or any boy who when mother asked him yesterday to run upon an errand, grew petulant, and scowled and scolded, perhaps went out of the room and slammed the door behind them, all such boys and girls would be found wanting. You see how, with one after another of these Commandments, if God were to weigh us we would be found wanting. If we take the other Commandments, "Thou shall not kill," anybody who has hated his brother in his heart; "Thou shall not commit adultery," any one who has harbored lust in his heart; "Thou shall not steal"; "Thou shall not bear false witness"; "Thou shall not covet"; think of each of these and see how many times in your life you have broken them, if not in letter, yet in spirit. Now, if you cannot be weighed against these different requirements and you have come short of them in the past, how can you expect to stand in the great Day of Judgment, when God shall take into account every idle word that we have ever uttered, every wicked thought; when we shall be weighed in the just balances of an infinite God? When God shall place these requirements upon one side of the balance, and you and I shall step in upon the other side of the balance, there is only one possible way in which we could then be heavy enough, and that is if we could have our Elder Brother, Jesus Christ, to step into the balance with us, as He is willing to do, and God should accept the obedience and holiness of His own Beloved Son, Jesus Christ in our stead. Unless you and I have Jesus Christ with us when we step into that balance, it will be said, "Thou art found wanting." Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your friend, and are you trying to serve Him? If you have not now made Him your friend, how can you hope to have His friendship then? May God help you to have Jesus as your friend in life, as well as in death; in this life as well as in the life to come, now while being tempted and tried in this world, as well as when being weighed in the next. QUESTIONS.--What was the handwriting on the wall at Belshazzar's feast? Does God weigh our bodies? What does He weigh? Against what was Belshazzar weighed? What are we weighed against? Are we weighed against each commandment separately? Can a person who has sworn be weighed against the third commandment? Is the use of by-words swearing? Are we honoring our parents by speaking disrespectfully of them? Can we break a commandment in thought as well as in deed? Tell how. Will all these requirements over-balance us? What must we do to make a proper balance? Is Christ willing to step into the scales with us? [Illustration] WHITE AND CHARRED STICKS. GOOD AND BAD COMPANY. SUGGESTION:--Objects: A few pine sticks, some charred; ink and water. ALL boys and girls like to have companions, some one to play with, and therefore it is very wise that I should talk to you to-day about good and bad company. First of all let me read some passages from the Bible. "Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful." (Psalms i: 1.) "Forsake the foolish and live; and go in the way of understanding." (Proverbs ix: 6.) But here is a passage of Scripture which is exactly suited to my purpose to-day: "He that walketh with wise men shall be wise; but a companion of fools shall be destroyed." (Proverbs xiii: 20.) When you go into a large library to select books you will always find that they are classified. Some of the shelves have books of history, others have books of poetry, and so on throughout the entire library. In this way God has classified different people in this text. One class is called wise, and the others are called foolish. A companion of wise men shall be wise, but a companion of fools shall be destroyed. In the same way there are good boys and bad boys, good girls and bad girls; and when you choose your companions it is important that you should choose them among the good, and not among the bad. I think you will better understand the teaching of the text, when I show you this one stick that has been burned black, or charred, as we say. Now here are several clean sticks which have not been burned, which are white and not tarnished. Let this black stick represent the boys who smoke, or chew, or swear, or lie, or deceive their parents; boys or girls who do not go to Sunday-school, who do not obey their parents, and who do not love God. These clean sticks will represent good boys and girls. Now suppose the good boys and girls choose the bad boys and girls as their companions and playmates; what do you think would be the result? I will mix these sticks together. I am sure that nobody would expect that the white sticks would transfer their purity and cleanness to this black stick. When I mix them, or rub them together, the black sticks get no whiter, but all the white sticks get blacker. [Illustration: White and Charred Sticks.] That is the way it always is with the boys who keep bad company. Instead of exerting a good influence, so as to reform and purify, and make good boys of the bad boys, the bad boys make bad boys of the good boys. At first the good boys are horrified at what they hear and see the bad boys say and do. After a while it ceases to be unpleasant to them. A little later they may possibly laugh at the bad boys, but after a while they will come to like the bad boys, and finally they will do as the bad boys do and become like them in conduct and in character. Perhaps you have seen boys who like to take cork and burn it in the candle or fire, and then blacken their faces with it, so as to make them look like colored people. Now, it is not the best thing for a white boy to try to look like a colored boy, but if he does rub this black on his face, he can wash it off with soap and water. But when a good boy goes with bad boys and his character becomes tarnished and blackened, he cannot cleanse and purify it so easily. He not only gets a bad character but a bad reputation as well, both of which are very difficult to cleanse or to get rid of. [Illustration: Glass of Water and Bottle of Ink.] Now, here I have a glass of water and a bottle of ink. If I take and pour a half a teaspoonful of this water into the ink, it makes no particular difference in its color. But if I take only two or three drops of ink and mix them with the water, it discolors the entire glass of water at once. One or two good boys in the midst of many bad ones are likely to be influenced in a bad direction. This is especially true if the good boys have sought the bad boys as companions. Even one or two bad boys, placed in the midst of several good boys, may exert a very bad influence over them. I suppose you have all seen this illustrated in the school room. You may have had a set of good boys, or a set of good girls in your class, but some day a bad boy came to the school, or a bad girl joined the class and they were frivolous, laughed and talked and were disorderly, disobeyed the teacher, played truant and did all kinds of naughtiness when in school, and it had its bad effect upon the entire class, and sometimes even upon the entire school. The text teaches us that we should avoid such foolish boys and foolish girls; boys and girls who do not obey God or revere the Bible, who do not listen to their consciences, nor do that which is right. Such should be avoided at all times, and in choosing our companions, we should always prefer those who will have an influence for good upon us socially, intellectually and morally. The influence of bad companions will tend to destroy all our best interests physically, by leading to every kind of vice and evil; destroy us financially, by causing us to be inattentive to our work, causing us to prefer idleness and pleasure to labor and usefulness; destroy us morally, by making light of the teachings of the Bible, the importance of the Sunday-school and of the Church, the authority of father and mother and the wisdom of what they teach and require of us. But in addition to all this, we should remember that those who are our companions upon earth, will be our companions in the world to come. If we go with the wicked and the profane here, we shall dwell with them forever in the world to come. If we desire to go to heaven and to be forever with those who are good and righteous, pure and holy; if we desire to be happy for ever and ever in the world to come, we must choose as our companions here, those who are living not for this present fleeting life, but who are living for the glory of God and who are trusting sincerely in Jesus Christ for everlasting salvation. May God help us all to be wise and to walk with the wise, and not to be foolish and choose fools as our companions, both for time and eternity. QUESTIONS.--Into what two classes has God divided people? What does the Bible tell us will happen to a companion of fools?--of wise men? Whom do the charred sticks represent? Who are like the white sticks? If the sticks are rubbed together, what is the result? What happens to good boys who keep bad company? Do the good boys become bad immediately? What do bad companions do to one's character? Can a boy wash "burnt cork" from his face? Can he wash the stains from his character? What else besides a bad character is given? Will a few drops of water change the color of a bottle of ink? Will a few drops of ink change the color of a glass of water? Who are like the ink-drops? Who are like the water-drops? Why? Whom shall we choose for companions? Who will be our companions in eternity? [Illustration: The Camp of the Israelites.] DOGS. THE DOGS OF ST. BERNARD. SUGGESTION:--If a real live dog is too diverting, an earthen or bisque dog, or the accompanying picture of the dogs of St. Bernard, may be sufficient. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS: I want to talk to you to-day about dogs. The dog is what is called a domestic animal, and wherever you find civilized men and women, you will find dogs of some kind. Dogs are not only loved because they are companionable, but because they are also, oftentimes, very serviceable. In Switzerland there are some very high mountains, and some years ago, when there were no tunnels yet dug under the mountains, as there are to-day, travelers during the winter, when going from Germany to Italy, or returning from Italy to Germany, had to cross over the tops of these mountains. The snow was always deep and the journey was always dangerous, particularly in the winter. [Illustration: The Dogs of St. Bernard Copyrighted 1911 by Sylvanus Stall] There are several places where the mountains can be crossed, and these places are called "passes," such as the Simplon, St. Bernard and St. Gothard passes. Some years ago, in company with a friend, I crossed the St. Gothard pass on the 20th of June. That year the season was very late, and after we got well up the mountain, we found the snow from five to ten feet deep on the level, and when we arrived on the top of the mountain, the snow was even with the roof of a two-story building which stood there, and the people living in it had tunneled under the snow, around the outside of the building. If this was the way it was on the 20th of June, you can easily imagine what an awfully cold and stormy place it must be to live during the entire winter. It took our horses a long time to take us up the mountain, but when we went down on the Italian side they went quite rapidly, and in one hour and forty minutes from the time we left the Hotel de la Prosa, where the snow was so very deep, we were down in the village of Airolo, where little girls were selling ripe cherries. It seemed as though we had jumped right out of the heart of winter, into the pleasant and fruitful days of summer. On the top of each of these mountain passes, there is built what is called a hospice, which means hospitality, the same word from which we get our word hospital. These buildings are erected for the entertainment of poor travelers, who are compelled to cross the mountains in the winter. There are a number of monks, who live in each of these places of entertainment. On each of these mountain passes the monks have some large dogs, which are known as the dogs of St. Bernard. In the winter when it is snowing, and travelers are likely to be exhausted by their efforts to ascend the mountain, and are liable to be lost in the snow-storms which prevail almost every day, these dogs are sent out by the monks with a supply of food and wine suspended from their necks, and they go all over the mountain, barking and making a great noise. When they discover a poor traveler who is perishing in the snow, they allow him to take the food and the wine in order that he may be stimulated and revived, and then these faithful and intelligent dogs lead the way to the place of safety and security. Oftentimes they find men who have become nearly frozen, who have fallen down in the snow in an unconscious state and are ready to die. If left for a time these men would soon freeze to death beneath the snow that falls very rapidly upon them. These dogs are very intelligent, and immediately they will begin to scrape the snow off the traveler, lick his hands, and if he does not give any indications of life they will then lie down upon his body, that the warmth from their own body may quicken him again into consciousness, that he may drink the wine and eat the food and be stimulated enough to do something toward getting himself on to the place of safety. If the man is not too heavy, the dog might even be able to carry him. [Illustration: Dogs Rescuing Traveler.] At the hospice on the St. Bernard pass they once had a faithful dog which had been successful in thus rescuing sixty-eight persons from freezing to death upon the mountains. The dog was very sagacious, and seemed to know exactly what to do when he found a poor traveler dying in the snow. One day he found a man who had evidently been lying for some time in the snow, which had already quite buried him. The man was entirely unconscious, and when the dog found him he began immediately to scrape away the snow and then lay down upon this dying man, that the warmth of his own body might quicken him again into consciousness. When the man began to revive, and discovered that there was something warm lying upon him, he thought it was a wolf or some wild animal which possibly designed to take his life. He reached into his belt and drew a dagger, which he thrust into the body of the faithful dog that had come to rescue him from freezing to death. The poor dog was fatally wounded. He started back home, but in a short time after reaching it bled to death. The monks had this dog's skin stuffed and placed in the hospice, and now he seems constantly to teach an object lesson to all travelers who cross the Alps and stop at the hospice. The story of this faithful dog and his sad death reminds us of that loving Saviour, who came from heaven to this world, to seek and to save those who were lost. And although He came to redeem and rescue us from death, yet wicked men in this world crucified Him by nailing Him to a cross upon Calvary, and this is what every person is doing to-day who rejects the Lord Jesus Christ. He comes to you and to me, desiring to save us from our sins and from everlasting death; to save not only our bodies, but our souls for all eternity. If we reject Him we are told in the Bible that "we crucify Him afresh, and put Him to an open shame." I am sure no thoughtful boy or girl would be guilty of wilfully stabbing any kind dog that would come to their rescue if they were perishing in the snow, and I trust that none of you will ever reject Jesus and thrust Him away from you, and thus crucify Him for yourself and put Him to an open shame before the world. This faithful dog should also teach you and me another lesson. If a dog can make himself so useful as to save the lives of sixty-eight people, you and I should ask ourselves the question whether we are doing as much for the blessing and the salvation of men as this faithful dog did on the mountains of Switzerland? But you can do a great deal more than this dog. He could only save the lives of people, but God can use you to save their souls as well, by the influence of a noble Christian life, by what you say and do, by your contributions to missions, and in various other ways you may help to save the souls of many who must otherwise perish. But this faithful dog teaches us a lesson of constant, daily duty. It was no easy thing for this dog to go out in the fierce cold through the deep snow and run about all day to hunt for lost travelers, but it was by keeping constantly at it and working faithfully day after day that he accomplished this grand result. He did not save sixty-eight people all at one time, but saved one at a time, and sometimes worked for days and weeks without finding a single traveler whom he could help. In the same way, if you desire to be useful in this world, you must use every little opportunity which comes to you daily. You must be willing to work hard and keep at it, and even though you cannot succeed in doing any great thing at any one time, remember that you must keep doing little things all the while. I trust that God may inspire each of you to desire to accomplish grand results in your lives by the constant doing of both little and great things for God and man. QUESTIONS.--Are dogs serviceable? What kinds are the most useful? Where do they live? For what and by whom are they used? What do the dogs do to revive a traveler? Tell the story of the dog of the St. Bernard Pass. Of what does this story remind us? Does Christ try to rescue us? What are we doing when we reject Him? What lesson does this dog teach us? Can we do as much as this dog did? Why? What can we do which the dog could not do? What other lesson does this dog teach us? Did the dog save all the sixty-eight people at one time? Are we able to accomplish God's work all at one time? How must we do it? THE CAMERA. GOD'S PICTURE BOOK. SUGGESTION:--Objects: A small camera and a small looking glass. [Illustration: A Camera.] WHILE talking to you to-day about pictures, it will not seem strange that I should have a camera as the object with which to illustrate the sermon. But my purpose may not be so plain to you when you hear my text, which is taken from the book of Revelation, twentieth chapter, twelfth verse: "And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works." [Illustration: "Throwing a Black Cloth Over His Head He Moved About the Camera."] These words refer to the great Judgment Day. I suppose that you know that we must all die, but possibly you did not know, or have forgotten, that after a time God will raise up all the dead and will separate the good people from the bad people, the righteous from the wicked. The time when God will do this is called the great Judgment Day. It is then that the words which I have read as my text tell us that "the books shall be opened," and then all that we have ever done or said in this life shall be found written in these books. Now, if God is keeping a record of all our deeds and words, and even our inmost thoughts, which He also knows; and not only keeping a record of your words and thoughts and mine, but also of those of every man, woman and child--a record of all the fourteen hundred millions now living upon our earth--you might think that millions of angels would be kept very busy writing all these things down in these books. I do not know just _how_ God is doing this, but I do know two ways in which He could easily accomplish what to us may seem a difficult or impossible task. I will now try to show you how God might keep the record of everything we do; and next Sunday I will try to tell you how, with equal ease, God might secure and keep the record of all we say, of each and every word we speak. I suppose you have all gone to a photograph gallery and had your pictures taken. When you stood before an instrument, something like this, only perhaps much larger, the artist went behind the big instrument, which was pointed right toward you, and throwing a black cloth over his head, he moved about the camera, told you just how to hold your head, and finally when everything was arranged and he was ready, he pressed a small rubber ball which opened the little slide, just as you would open your eye to look at any object, and in an instant your picture was taken. That large camera, with which the artist took your picture, was in principle just like the smaller and more simple one which I have shown you, and both are made to imitate, or in a rude way to be like the human eye. Now, if I point this camera toward you, make it dark back of the camera, either by placing a black cloth over my head or in any other way, your picture will at once appear upon this glass which is at the back of the camera. Now the reason why I can see your photograph on this ground glass is because the rays of light which are reflected or come from your face, into this opening in the camera, have your likeness upon them, and when the light falls against this glass I can see your picture which is photographed upon the rays of light, just the same as your picture is photographed on paper. So every object about us is photographed on the rays of light and the picture becomes visible when we turn our eye, which is a small but perfect camera, so that the rays of light can go straight into our eye and the picture fall upon the back of the eye, which is called the retina, and with which this glass in the camera corresponds. An ordinary looking-glass will demonstrate or show the same thing. This covering on the back of the glass corresponds to the black cloth with which the photographer shuts out the rays of light which come from the back of the camera. In the same way the ground at the bottom of the pond cuts off the rays from beneath, and on this account you can see the hills, or stars, or clouds reflected in the water; so also in the looking-glass, as you turn it in different directions you can see the photographs of persons or objects which are pictured upon the rays of light. You may have thought that you saw the person or objects themselves, but this is not the case. With your eyes you can see nothing in the dark; even the cat and the owl must have some light, although they do not need as much as we, before they can see. The rays of light carry the pictures of the objects, and where there are no rays of light we can see nothing. Now, while your photograph is being taken from the few rays of light which pass into a camera, you see that we might place hundreds of cameras one above another, and if they were all pointed at you they might each take a photograph of you at the same instant--the same as one thousand different persons in an audience with their two thousand eyes all look toward the speaker and see him at one and the same instant. Now, if I have succeeded in making my thought plain, you will readily understand that as we have great books with pictures upon every page, so God might use these rays of light as the pages of the great book upon which each act of our life instantly records itself, it matters not how rapidly it is done or how many persons and objects there may be in motion or action at the same instant. The fact that the different rays of light carry the pictures of the objects from which they are reflected, is illustrated in the wonderful cameras with which "moving pictures" are taken. To older persons I might add that if you recall the scientific fact that these rays of light, bearing the images or photographs of persons and objects from which they are reflected, dash out into space at the rate of 192,000 miles in one second, and that they continue to move on indefinitely, you see how the rays of light which were reflected and are now carrying the image of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, of Noah coming out of the ark, of the battle of Bunker Hill, and those carrying the pictures of all other objects and actions since the Creation until now, are still sweeping on through space, and if you and I could be present where these rays of light are now sweeping onward, we could see these things as actually and really as if they were even now taking place in our presence upon the earth. And you will also understand how, as God is everywhere present, He is also present in space where these rays of light are at this moment, and so every scene in the entire history of the world is perpetually visible to Him. And so, even with our feeble understanding, you see how the past may always be present to the Infinite and everywhere-present God. Now, my dear young friends, remember as we see the acts of each other, so God sees all that we do, even when no one else is present to see us. Do not think that God sees and then forgets. All we do is being constantly photographed, not in a camera like this, but upon the rays of light as upon the pages of a great book, and in the great Judgment Day, God will judge us out of the things recorded against us in these books. Our acts record themselves, and in that great day we shall no more be able to deny the correctness of the record than we would be able to deny the personality or identity of our own photograph. QUESTIONS.--What is meant by the great Judgment Day? What will God do on that day? Of what does God keep a record? Do we know exactly how He does it? What two ways are there in which He might do it? What brings the person's image upon the ground glass of the camera? What have we that is like the camera? Which part of the eye is like the ground glass of the camera? Why can we not see in the dark? Could God use the rays of light instead of the pages of a book? Is the image of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden still existing? Where? Are the images of all other events also passing through space? Can God see them all at once? Does God see all of our acts? [Illustration] [Illustration] THE PHONOGRAPH. BOOKS THAT TALK. SUGGESTION:--Object: A small tin box, with a cover and bottom removed. Over one end draw and tie a piece of parchment, or even of strong manilla paper, in the center of the miniature drum-head thus formed fasten a thin string, and you will then have a rude but real telephone and a good representation also of the phonograph. LAST Sunday I talked to you about the great Judgment Day and tried to illustrate to your minds what is said in Revelation, twentieth chapter, twelfth verse, where it says, "The dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works." I tried then to make plain how God pictures or photographs all our acts upon the rays of light, and how we see the objects about us when the rays of light fall upon the retina of the eye. I tried to show you how every ray of light carries a photograph or picture, and that these rays of light are sweeping out into space at the rate of 192,000 miles per second, and that if you and I could be present where these rays, carrying the picture of the battle of Bunker Hill are now hurrying through space, you could see the battle, as if it were taking place at present. If you had a camera with you, you could actually take a photograph of it, the same as you could have done had you been on the hills outside of Boston on the day when this great battle was being fought. But that is only one book; God has other books also. But you know you can not photograph what a person says. So I want to try and show you how our words and all we say also go into a great book and write themselves down, so as to become permanent for all time. Now, I have here a baking-powder box, from which I have removed the ends, and in place of the tin have covered it with a stout piece of paper which I have tried to draw very smoothly. With two such boxes, connected by a string, we could make a telephone so that we could talk together a short distance. Or with only one box we could construct a very rude but yet very suggestive phonograph. Let me tell you how it is that you can hear over the telephone, whether made of a simple box and string like this, or with a wire and electric battery, for in one respect they are both alike. If you will place your finger gently on your throat, against what is sometimes called "Adam's Apple," but what is really the delicate little instrument with which we speak, and then utter some words in a strong, clear voice, you will doubtless feel a vibration or trembling in your throat, just the same as I now feel in my throat while I am talking. My effort to speak causes these little chords in my throat to vibrate, just the same as when you pass your fingers over the chords of a harp or violin, or when you strike the keys of a piano you make the wires tremble and thus produce sound, so these chords in my throat tremble and cause the air to tremble, producing what we call sound-waves. Just the same as when you take a stone and drop it into the lake, you see the little waves or ripples, as we call them, go out in small circles, wider and wider, further and further, until they strike the distant shore. So the air is made to vibrate by my effort to speak, and these little sound-waves in the air strike against the drum of your ear, back of which there are nerves, ever ready to convey to the brain the sensation which we call sound, [Illustration: "The Little Waves or Ripples."] "Like clear circles widening round Upon a clear blue river, Orb after orb, the wondrous sound Is echoed on forever." Now, this small baking-powder box represents the ear, and the paper at this end represents the drum of the ear, and this string represents the nerves. This string may be prolonged for a considerable distance, and if you were to connect the end of the string with another box of the same sort you would then have a telephone with which you would be able to hear quite plainly the words which are spoken by some other person at the opposite end of the string. When I speak into this box it makes the paper tremble, and that makes the string tremble, and if there were another box at the far end of the line it would cause the paper on the end of that box to tremble just the same, and that would cause the air to tremble where that box is, and if you were to hold your ear to that box you would be able to hear the words. If I take this box, and instead of a string I should place the point of a needle back of it, and a cylinder to revolve, so that the needle would scratch the vibrations upon the cylinder, I would then have a phonograph. I would then be able to record the words, and with another smooth needle to go into the scratches which had been made by the sharp needle, I would be able to reproduce the sound; or, in other words, to make the cylinder talk back again to me the words which I had spoken into the tin box and recorded upon the cylinder. [Illustration: Phonograph Cylinder.] Just as light carries the photograph or picture, so the air carries the sound of our words and other vibrations of the atmosphere which we call sound. Thus you see the light is one book and the air is another, and God doubtless has many other forms of making and keeping the record of our actions and words--yes, even of our thoughts, and in the great Judgment Day these words which we utter will say themselves over again in our ears. If you uttered any bad or wicked words yesterday or to-day, or shall do so tomorrow, remember you will have to give an account of them in the great Day of Judgment. But there is another thing connected with our uttering of bad words, as well as the fact that we must give an account of them. Bad words are connected with bad thoughts, and so every bad word which we utter indicates the character of our thoughts and has a bad influence upon our minds and hearts. Not only do these words record themselves upon the atmosphere, but they also record themselves in a lasting--yes, in an eternal influence upon the hearts and the minds and the lives of those who hear them. Just the same as the words which are spoken into a phonograph are recorded and can be repeated over and over many times, so the bad words and the wicked thoughts which are expressed into the ears of others make an indelible record upon their thoughts and hearts, and are oftentimes repeated to others, thus multiplying the record, and at last all these records will appear against us in the great Day of Judgment. How careful you and I should be to speak only good words and to think only good thoughts. QUESTIONS.--Has God other record books beside the one of deeds? What does one of the other books record? What is a telephone? What is a phonograph? What happens to the air when our words strike it? What are these air-vibrations called? What does the air do with sound? What two things may be used as God's recording books? Must all bad words be accounted for? What do bad words indicate? Upon what instrument can words also be recorded? Are all words like those which are recorded by a phonograph? Why? (Permanent). Will God hold these records against us on the Judgment Day? MAGNET AND NEEDLE. GOD'S GUIDING HAND. SUGGESTION:--Objects used: A magnet, a piece of paper and an ordinary sewing needle. In the illustration lay the needle flat against the paper directly under the magnet. The ordinary magnet, purchased for a few cents in a toy store, will answer the purpose. MY DEAR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN: The Bible everywhere teaches us that God is the Supreme Ruler of the universe. Not only has He created the vast system of worlds about us, but He directs each in its orbit. He rules over the destinies of nations, and although wicked men plot and plan, yet over and above them all God is ruling, and He makes even the wrath of men to praise Him. When you are older and can make a careful study of the Book of Daniel, which is in the Old Testament, and then read the history of the world in the light of the teachings of that Book, you will see how God used the five great empires of the earth to prepare the world for the coming of the Messiah, and how since the time of Christ He has used the other nations to prepare the world for the full acceptance of the truth and the final triumph of righteousness. But God not only governs in the affairs of nations, He also governs and directs in the life of each individual. He not only gives us being and preserves our lives and health, but He has redeemed us from sin and death by the gift of His Son, Jesus Christ; and if we are willing, He will guide us in all the affairs of life. Nothing is too minute nor too insignificant to receive His thought and attention, and not even the sorrow of a child over a broken toy escapes His notice or fails to touch His loving heart. But many people are not able to understand, and seem also unwilling to accept anything that they cannot see, or comprehend with one of their five senses. I have therefore brought this magnet, this piece of paper, and this needle, such as women use when they sew, in order to show you how God can guide us by His unseen hand. [Illustration: Magnet and Needle.] When I lift this needle with my fingers and then let go of it you will notice how it drops immediately to the floor. Now, when I lift this magnet in the same way, and then let go of it, it will also drop in the same manner. But now I am going to hold this magnet up, and bring the needle close to the magnet. Now when I let loose of the needle with my fingers you see how it is held by the magnet. The gravity, or, as we would say, the weight of the needle, which would cause it to fall to the floor, is overcome by some greater or stronger power which is in the magnet. Now, you cannot perceive that power with any of your senses; you can neither hear it, smell it, taste it nor feel it. You can see the effect of that power, but the power itself you cannot see. In like manner, also, there are powers and influences all about us which we cannot perceive with any of our senses, but which are constantly exercising their influence upon us and upon things about us. But now, by the use of this paper, I desire to show you something additional. I am going to place the magnet above the paper, and the needle below the paper, and show you that even through the paper this influence or power which holds the needle exerts itself. You will see now that when I lay the needle lengthwise against the paper, with the magnet upon the opposite side, that the needle is held up against this paper and does not fall, as it would if the magnet were removed. You will notice also that, as I move this magnet from place to place, the needle on the lower side of the paper follows the magnet. In this simple little experiment you are able to see the magnet, but suppose for a moment that this paper were increased in size until it was as large as the ceiling of this entire room. You will understand that then the magnet and any person moving the magnet might be entirely out of sight, and as the magnet would be moved from place to place on the upper side of the paper, entirely out of view, the needle on the lower side, which could be easily seen, would move from place to place, following the magnet. [Illustration: Paper no Hindrance.] This little experiment illustrates to us _not how_ God guides us, but it will show us that there are powers unknown and unseen by us which can hold and guide even insensible metal. How much more easily, then, can God sustain and guide our thoughts, our purposes, our steps and our lives. We are free moral agents. God has left us free to resist His power and His grace, and to live in defiance of all that He has commanded us, and of all that He desires us to do. But if we are willing to be led by His Spirit, and to walk in His way, God is willing to guide us, if we will come to Him and ask Him for the Holy Spirit to lead us in the way in which He would have us to walk. There are many who do resist God's will and purpose, and live in open defiance of all His teachings, and of all that God would have them to do. I take it for granted, however, that there are no such people here, but that you all desire to live in such a way as to secure your greatest happiness and your greatest good upon this earth, and your eternal happiness and blessedness in the world to come. In closing this little sermon, I therefore desire to impress upon your minds the fact that you and I are without experience in many of the most trying and most important events which come to us in life. We are constantly liable to be mistaken. We cannot see ahead of us, and do not always know what is for our own good. God knows all things, the future as well as the past. He cannot be mistaken and must therefore know beyond the possibility of error what will be for our good. God not only knows what will be for our good but He desires our good, therefore we should let Him guide us. Now, the question might arise in your minds, how does God guide us? He guides us by the teachings of His Word. He has told us in the Bible how we ought to live, what is for our present and eternal good. If we desire financial prosperity, or physical blessings, or mental quickness, or spiritual peace, we will find in the teachings of God's Word how to obtain them. God also guides us by the exercise of our consciences, and therefore it is always important that you and I should do what conscience tells us to be right. First of all we should study God's Word, in order that we may have an enlightened conscience, and then we should always follow conscience. God also guides us by the Holy Spirit, and it is our duty to come to Him daily and ask Him for the presence and power of the Holy Ghost to guide us through each day, and to bring us at last to Heaven above. Now, I trust you will all be able to enter heartily into the prayer which we are going to sing, for when we sing thoughtfully we will find that many hymns contain petitions as well as praise, and this is one of the kind which partakes largely of the nature of petition. Let us all sing the hymn, "Guide me, O, Thou great Jehovah." QUESTIONS.--Who is the Supreme Ruler of the Universe? Who governs the life of every person? Does any little thing escape His notice? Are some people unwilling to believe what they cannot see? Can we see, hear, smell, or feel the power in the magnet? Why do we believe it is there? Are there influences around us like the power in the magnet? Can they all be seen? Will the paper between the magnet and the needle destroy the attracting power of the magnet? Who are like the needle? Like whom is the magnet? Does He guide us? Can we see Him? Are we free to do as we choose? When will God lead us? Do some people defy God? Do we always know what is best for us, or what to do when in trouble? Who does know? By what three means does God guide us? [Illustration] FISH IN AQUARIUM. THE ALL-SEEING EYE OF GOD. SUGGESTION:--Object: A small aquarium with a few small fishes. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: I have here an aquarium with a few very pretty goldfishes in it. As they swim from side to side they look very beautiful. When they see me coming nearer to the aquarium, or moving my hand upon this side or the other, they dart very quickly to the opposite side of the aquarium. They try to get out of sight, but it makes no difference whether they are upon this side or upon the other side of the aquarium, I can see them just as well. I can look right through the aquarium; I can see through the glass, and I can see through the water. And wherever the fishes are in this aquarium, I can see them. It is impossible for them to hide away, or to get out of my sight. [Illustration: Fishes in Aquarium.] Now, the Bible tells us that "the eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good." (Prov. xv: 3.) We are very clearly taught in the Bible, that it makes no difference where we are, God can see us just as well in one place as in another. He can see us in the night just as well as in the daytime, for "the darkness and the light are alike unto Him." David said, "He that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep." (Psalm cxxi: 4.) So it makes no difference whether you are in the house or out of doors, whether it is day or whether it is night, God can see right through the house, just as you and I can look through this aquarium and through the water, so God can see right through the thick walls of a house, or even through a great mountain. If you were in the valley beyond the mountain, God could see right through the mountain; that would make no difference. He can even see way through the earth, from this side through to China. It makes no difference to God, for He can see just as well through material substances, through which you and I cannot look, as we can see through the air; indeed much better, for distance limits the possibility of our seeing distinctly and clearly, while God's power to see is not limited or circumscribed. [Illustration: "There is One Direction That You Have not Looked."] Once there was a very excellent, good woman, who had a very nice and conscientious little boy, but the mother was poor and had to go out from day to day to earn her living. Each night when she returned home the little boy was very lonely, and would watch very patiently for his mother, and when he saw her coming, he would always run to the door to meet her, and throw his arms about her neck. But one evening when she returned, she noticed that little Willie was not at the door to meet her. She could not understand why, when she came into the house he seemed to be afraid of her. He tried to avoid her. After a time the mother called Willie to her and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him very tenderly. This was too much for the little boy's heart. He looked up into his mother's face, and said, "Mamma, can God see through a crack in the door?" His mother said, "Yes, God can see everywhere." He said, "Mamma, can God see in the cupboard if it is dark in the cupboard?" "Yes, Willie, God can see in the dark as well as in the light." Willie looked up into his mother's face and said, "Then I might as well tell you. To-day I was very hungry, and although you told me that I should not take the cake which you had put in the closet, yet I went to the closet, and when I had closed the door, and it was all dark, I felt around till I got a piece of the cake, and I ate it. I did not know that God could see in the dark. I am very sorry that I have been so wicked and so naughty." And so little Willie threw his arms around his mamma's neck and laid his head upon her shoulder and wept very bitterly. [Illustration: Eye in the Pulpit.] Once a man went to steal corn out of his neighbor's field. He took his little boy with him to hold the bag open, while he should pull the corn and put it in the bag. After they had reached the cornfield the father looked this way and that way, and looked about him in every direction, and when he had given the little boy the bag to hold open, the little boy looked at his father and said, "Father, there is one direction that you have not looked yet." The father was quite frightened and supposed that his son had seen some one coming in some direction. But the son said, "You have not looked up. There is some one in that direction I am sure who sees us." The father was so much impressed that he turned away from his sinful purpose, and returned home, never again to steal from anyone. Many years ago, among some of the denominations when they built a church, they used to build the pulpit very high. It was built almost as high as the gallery. And when the people sat in the pews and desired to see the minister, they had to bend their heads back, and look up very high toward the pulpit. At Reading, Pennsylvania, there is still one of these old pulpits which was formerly in use. On the under side of the shelf upon which the Bible rested in that pulpit, there was painted a large eye. And when the people would look up from the pews to see the minister, or towards the Bible, underneath this lid upon which the Bible rested they would always see this large eye. This eye would seem to look right down upon each one individually, and thus they would constantly be reminded of the text, "Thou God seest me," and the text which I repeated at the opening of this sermon, "The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good." And so Sunday after Sunday, and year after year, from childhood to manhood, this object sermon was constantly being preached to them. Whenever Satan tempts you to do wrong, remember that you cannot escape from the eyes of One who sees you constantly, and although no human being might know of your wickedness, yet God sees you, and God knows it all, for "His eyes behold, His eyelids try the children of men." (Psalm xi: 4.) QUESTIONS.--Can the fish in the aquarium hide from our sight? How are we like the fish in the aquarium? What does the Bible say about the eyes of the Lord? Can darkness hide us from God's sight? Can He see through the earth? Tell about the little boy who ate the cake in the dark. Tell about the little boy whose father wanted to steal corn. Why was a large eye painted on the pulpit in the church? When we are tempted by Satan, what should we remember? THE CLOCK. MEASURING TIME. SUGGESTION:--Object: An ordinary clock or watch. I HAVE here a clock, with which I desire to illustrate and emphasize the truth taught us in the twelfth verse of the ninetieth Psalm, where it says, "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." Whatever is valuable we measure. Some things are measured by the yard, some things by the quart or gallon, other things by the pound or by the ton. Land is measured by the acre. One of the most valuable things that God gives to us is time. Queen Elizabeth, when she was dying, was willing to give her entire kingdom if she could only have one hour more in which to prepare for death. As time is very valuable we measure it in seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, centuries. In the earliest time men had no means of measuring time, except as they saw it measured with the great clock which God has set in the heavens; for He tells us in the first chapter of Genesis that He made "the sun to rule the day, and the moon to rule the night." The most accurate clocks in the world are those which most nearly keep time with the sun. All the effort to regulate clocks and watches is simply to adjust their movements so as to have them keep time with the movement of the sun. God has given us a conscience which is designed to regulate our lives until they shall be in harmony with the life of Christ, who is the Sun of Righteousness. Hundreds of years before Christ came, people may have had some very rude way of dividing the time during the day and night, but their principal division of time was simply day and night, summer and winter. These changes of day and night, summer and winter, helped to mark the progress of time, and they still do. If it were all daytime, or all night, and we had no clocks, we would have no means of measuring time. When Baron de Trench was liberated from his dungeon in Magdeburg, where the King of Prussia had confined him in darkness for a period of ten years, where he had no means of measuring how the time passed and had even very few thoughts--when he was liberated, and was told that he had been in prison for ten years, his astonishment was almost beyond expression, for it had not seemed to him to be so long. It had passed away like a painful dream. In the early period of the world's history, human life was much longer than at present. Men lived to be several hundred years old. I suppose you can all tell how old Methuselah was. He was the oldest man who ever lived. When human life became shorter, time consequently became more valuable and men were more anxious to measure it. I want to show you how to measure time, and what makes it valuable; for David asked to be taught properly to number his days; and the purpose was so that he might apply his heart unto wisdom. Now, this watch and this clock are instruments with which we measure time. Once there was a king who desired not to forget that, like other men, he must die, and he had a man whose duty it was to come before him each hour and repeat the words: "Remember thou art mortal!" That is, every hour he had this man remind him that sometime he would have to die. Each time the man came in before the king, he was reminded that he had one hour less to live; so, each and every time that you hear the clock strike, you should be reminded of the fact that another hour has passed, and that you have one less to live. In this sense every clock has a tongue, and when it strikes it tells us that we will now have one hour less to live upon the earth. [Illustration: Hour-glass.] The earliest device for measuring time was doubtless the sun-dial. Perhaps you have never seen one. It is simply a round plate or disc of metal, with a small piece of metal standing upright in such a position that when the sun shines, the shadow will be thrown upon the round cylinder or disc, around which are figures like those on the face of a watch or clock. Such methods of measuring time we know were used at least seven hundred and thirteen years before Christ, for in the book of Isaiah, thirty-eighth chapter and eighth verse, we find a very direct allusion to it. King Alfred of England used to use candles that were of uniform length; each candle would burn three hours, and by burning four candles, one after another, he could measure the hours of the day. In order to prevent the air from blowing against the candle and thus making it burn more rapidly or interfering with its accuracy in measuring time, he placed a horn or shield around it, and in the old cathedrals this was the way they measured time. Later on they had hour glasses, such as you sometimes see placed on the piano when girls are practicing their music lesson. Sometimes you see small ones in the kitchen, which are used for timing the eggs while they are boiling, and it is to these forms of glasses that various poetical allusions are made when death is spoken of as the "sands of life" running out. [Illustration: "What Use Do You Make of Your Time?"] Later came the clocks. They were first made about 2,000 years ago, but were very rude and awkward. The first watches were made about 475 years ago, but they were very large, and you would almost need to have a man to carry your watch for you, it was so heavy. Smaller watches were first made about 200 years ago, and now they have some that are so very small that you could carry six or seven of them in your vest pocket without inconvenience. How else could we tell about the time of the departure of trains and steamboats, the hours to go to work in the factory or to go to school, when to go to church? And the enjoyment of many other things depends upon knowing accurately what moment we should be on hand. You should learn never to be late, but always to be prompt. Suppose that, with an audience of six hundred people, the preacher should be five minutes late. Each person would then have lost five minutes. This, for the entire six hundred present, would have been equal to more than forty-eight hours for a single person--more than two days and two nights. But now what is it that makes time valuable? It is the use that we can make of it. David wanted to know about it, so that he could apply his heart unto wisdom. The man who does nothing with his time, in the eyes of others, is worth nothing; but the busy man always finds that his time is very valuable. It is strange, also, that when you go to idle people and ask them to do anything they always say they haven't time, so that the expression has come to be used that "if you want anything done go to a busy man." The more busy the man is the more likely he is to find time, in some way, to undertake any new form of useful endeavor and work. Now, I want to ask you, What use do you make of your time? Are you faithful in the use of every moment at home, diligent in doing the work assigned you, looking about you, and doing your own thinking, finding, for yourself, what is to be done, instead of standing around and waiting to be told? Are you diligent in school, always studying your lessons, learning all that you possibly can, remembering that everything that you can learn will at some time be of service to you? If you are employed in a store, or engaged in any other kind of business, are you faithful, using each moment and each hour, remembering that you are not to be faithful simply when your employer is looking at you, but you are to be faithful at all times? As the Bible says, "Not with eye service, as men pleasers" (Colos. iii: 22), but doing everything as unto the Lord. Are you faithful in the matter of attending church, and then when you are in the church, giving your mind to the consideration of the truth which is being presented, rather than allowing your mind to be engaged with the amusements and plays of last week, or the plans and purposes of next week? Are you faithful in the Sunday-school? Do you listen attentively to the lessons which are taught by your Sunday-school teacher? Each minute of the thirty devoted to the study of the lesson is very important, and all of the other moments in the Sunday-school are very important. I was wondering the other day why the clock should have the long hand point to the minutes, and the short hand to the hours; but after all, it seems very wise that the greater emphasis, and greater importance should be attached to the longer hand. It points to the minutes, as though it were constantly saying to you and to me, look out for these minutes, look out for these small parts of the hour, and the whole hour will take care of itself. The big hand points to the minutes because, after all, they are the important things. It is like the old saying, "if we take care of the pennies, the dollars will take care of themselves." If we will take care of the minutes, the hours will take care of themselves. If you have never thought on these things, and have been an idler, I want to ask you to "Redeem the time." (Eph. v: 16.) That is, do not let your time go to waste. If you are not a Christian, even though you are very busy and very industrious concerning temporal things, you are really wasting your time. We are placed here upon the earth in order that we may love and serve God. That is our main business here. If we are going to serve Christ, we should study to know His life and His teachings, and yet some people know very little about the Bible. Did you ever stop to think that a man who is thirty-five years old has had five solid years of Sundays? And the man who is seventy years old, has had ten solid years of Sundays? With ten years given to worship and the study of God's Word, a man at seventy ought to know a great deal concerning the teachings of the Bible. May God teach us so to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. QUESTIONS.--How do we measure cloth? Are sugar and coal measured by the yard? How do we measure land? How do we measure time? How many divisions of time can you name besides seconds? What was the first instrument with which time was measured? With what did King Alfred measure the hours? What was later used for measuring time, after the sun-dial? About how long ago were clocks first invented? About how long ago were watches first made? Why did David want to be taught to number his days? Can the idle man or the busy man more easily find time for necessary duties? Will you always make diligent use of your time? Why does the larger hand of the clock point to the minutes? If we take care of the minutes, what will the hours do? PLANS. LIVING WITH A PURPOSE. SUGGESTION:--Object: Architect's drawings for the building of a house. [Illustration: Plans for Building a House.] MY DEAR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN: I have here what the architect calls "plans," or drawings for a house. Unless the carpenter and builder had a copy of the plans he is to follow he would not be able to build successfully. He would not know what kind of material he would need. He would not know where to place the doors, or how large to make the windows, and whether to put the dining room on this side of the house or on the other side of the house; whether the parlor was to be on the first floor or on the second floor. So when a man is going to build, the first thing to be done is to decide what kind of a house he wants, and then to get an architect who is able to draw the plans perfectly, so as to show the size of every door and window and room, and the exact position and place of everything that is to enter into the building of the house. These plans cost a great deal of thought and oftentimes much delay in beginning, but in the end they save both time and expense, and secure the most desirable results. Every boy and girl should have a plan, for we are all builders. We build day after day and week after week, and year after year. First of all, you should have some great purpose in life, and then all your other plans and purposes should be made to further and help the great main object which you have in life. Once there were two boys who were very intimate when they were young. They played together, and came to love each other very much. One was a boy who always had a plan. He had a plan for studying his lessons; he had a plan which showed what time he had resolved to get up in the morning; how many hours he would devote to study; what portions of the day he would give to play, and how much to work. So each and every day he had his plans. At the beginning of the year he had his plans for each month of the year. The other boy never had any plans. Everything went along just as it happened. The boy who always had the plans had no money; his father was poor. But the boy who had no plans had plenty of money, for his father was rich. These two boys both became merchants, had stores in the same square in a large city. The one who had the plans always knew what he purposed to do, before the season began. He knew just when to purchase his goods for the spring trade; he knew when to sell them; everything was done methodically and with a plan. As the result of his thoughtful plans he soon began to accumulate wealth, obtained a place of confidence in the minds of business men, and eventually became one of the most honored and influential men in the city. With the other boy it was not so. He bought his goods whenever he chanced to see something that he fancied; often bought too much of one thing; had no method in business, and consequently in the course of a few years lost what money he had and died a poor man. Let me hope that you will always have a plan for everything you do. God is the God of order, and we should also be orderly in all that we do. [Illustration: Plans for Building a Life.] These plans of the architect, when followed by the builders, will tell the stonemason, the bricklayer, the millman and the carpenter, the plasterer and the painter, just what each is to do, and all will be able to work in harmony, so as to secure a nice, comfortable and desirable home when the work is completed. Now, we are all laying foundations in this world, and the perfect character cannot be obtained until in eternity. So when you come to plan for life, do not think that your stay in this world is to be all there is of your life. Let your plans take in eternity. If they leave out eternity they leave out the greatest portion of your existence. If you leave out the idea of eternity you will be like the man who simply lays the foundation and then never builds a house on it, and there, year after year, the foundation stands as the monument of his folly. But you may desire to know where you can get the plans for a good and noble life--a plan that will include eternity. I will tell you: in the Bible. This is the best book in which to find the plans for a perfect and complete life. Just the same as the man who is going to build a house desires to go and examine other houses, so if you desire to be great and good, you should desire to read the biographies, the story of the lives of great men. I do not mean the fancied stories of lives which were never lived, which are so often told in some kinds of books, but I mean the lives of real men. When you see the difficulties which have been overcome by others; when you see how great and good other people have been, it will help you to be great and good. But after you have studied the lives of all the greatest and best men who have ever lived, and then compare them with the life of Jesus Christ, you will eventually come to see very clearly and distinctly, that after all there has never been but one perfect life lived on this earth, and that was the life of Jesus Christ. So you will readily see that if you desire to use a model which is perfect, you will have to take the life of Christ. You will find it fully portrayed in the Bible, especially in the first four books of the New Testament--Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. This will give you the model of a perfect life and enable you to live so as to make your life glorious while upon the earth, and prepare you for an eternity of happiness and joy beyond this world. Have a plan and live to it, and let your plan include eternity. And may God give you grace to live up to a high ideal, to be noble Christian men and noble Christian women. QUESTIONS.--What are needed before a house is built? Are all boys and girls builders? Builders of what? Do they need plans? Should we all have a main object in life? What must we use all other plans and purposes for? Which boy in the story turned out the better? What does the story illustrate? Should we have a plan for each thing we do? Does God love order? What foundation are we laying in this life? Should our plans concern only this life? What kind of a builder are we like, if we make no plans for the life to come? Where can we get our plans? What perfect model can we follow? THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE LESSONS WHICH IT TEACHES. BOYS and girls often think that big people have set apart Christmas as a day for gathering around the Christmas tree, as a time for Santa Claus, for the giving of presents and for having a good time generally. This is not the case. I will tell you why we celebrate Christmas, and particularly the significance and meaning of the Christmas tree. Christmas commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who came into this world to redeem us from sin and everlasting death; and the Christmas tree, laden with its many gifts and suggestive of so much joy and blessing, is a symbol of the Saviour. In order that you may best understand the full meaning of the Christmas tree, I must call your attention to the season of the year when Christmas came. You will remember that last summer, when the sun rose at half-past four in the morning and did not set until half-past seven in the evening, the days were very long, and you could see to go about in the evening until about eight o'clock and after. At Christmas time the sun goes down at half-past four in the afternoon, and does not rise until half-past seven in the morning. So you see that the days are about six hours shorter in December than they are in the latter part of the month of June. Christmas occurs at that season when the days are shorter and the nights are longer than at any other period of the year. In the Bible darkness represents sin and unbelief and wickedness; and the daytime or light represents truth and righteousness and godly living. So you will see that the long nights at the Christmas period of the year, and the short days, fitly represent the condition of the world at the time when Jesus, the Son of God, was born in Bethlehem. At no other time in the world's history was there so much of moral darkness and sin and wickedness and corruption in the world. Cruelty and crime and wickedness abounded everywhere. If I were to stop and tell you of the condition of society, of the wrong and the iniquity, which abounded everywhere, you would be greatly horrified. It was at such a time as this in the world's history, when Jesus Christ, the Son of God, came to this world, that sin might be banished and righteousness might abound. So you see that Christmas occurs at that period of the year when the night and the darkness are the longest of any of the entire year, and it very fittingly represents the condition which existed in the world when Jesus was born in Bethlehem, as the Saviour of the world. He came to banish the moral darkness which covered the whole earth. Not only the time of the year, but also the character of the Christmas tree suggests something. With the long nights comes also the cold winter. The earth is wrapped in snow. The trees, which a few months ago were green and beautiful and in the fall all laden with fruit, are now all naked and bare, and if you were to go out into the orchard or forest you could not tell the difference between a dead tree, and all the others which seem to be dead. Among all the trees you would only find such as the pine, the hemlock, the fir and other varieties, such as are known as evergreen trees, that would be green and give evidence of life. So you will see again how the Christmas tree fittingly represents Christ, because these evergreens, in the field and in the forest, seem to be the only things that have greenness and life, while all else around them seems to be dead and laid in a shroud of white snow. [Illustration: The Christmas Tree Copyrighted 1911 by Sylvanus Stall] The custom of setting up a tree at Christmas time and loading it with fruit and gifts seems to have originated in Germany, and the thought of these people in introducing this custom centuries ago, was that they might teach their children this very lesson to which I have referred. Now, I desire to call your attention also to the fruit which is so often hung on the Christmas tree. The Bible tells us that a tree is known by its fruit. If you go into the orchard you could tell the apple tree from the pear tree, and you could tell the plum tree from the peach tree. If you did not know them by their leaves, you would at least know them by their fruit. But when you come to look at this tree you find oranges upon it. Now, this is not an orange tree. You find dolls upon it, but it is not a doll tree. Here are a pair of skates, but it is not a skate tree. Here are some candies, but it is not a candy tree. Neither can it be known by the name of any one of these various things which hang upon the tree. But it is a Christmas tree. And all these various kinds of things are properly hung upon the Christmas tree to represent the fulfillment of that promise that, with His Son Jesus Christ, God would also give us all things richly to enjoy. The gifts hung on Christmas trees are usually presents from one person to another--often not only from parents to children, but from teachers to scholars, and from friend to friend. Now, until Christ was born, there were no Christmas presents. There was no Christmas day celebrated. But the reason we give presents on Christmas day is to remind each other of God's Great Gift to man, the gift of His Son, Jesus Christ, to be our Redeemer and Saviour. With Jesus Christ, God also gave us grace and truth, reconciliation, and pardon and peace and salvation. Man had sinned against God; was living in open rebellion against God. Whatever was good, man hated. He loved to do wickedly. He preferred to serve Satan, rather than to serve God. And Jesus came in order to reconcile men to God--to get them to turn away from sin, wickedness and Satan, and to accept of God's love and pardon and everlasting salvation, and to do that which was right and good and holy. If you could travel through the countries where they do not know of Christ and do not worship Him, and then travel through Christian countries, where Jesus is loved and honored, you would soon see what a great difference there is between the two. We have railroads, steamboats, and telegraphs, and telephones, and phonographs, and every kind of cloth, and silk, and furs with which to clothe ourselves for greatest comfort, and when we sit down at our tables there is no good thing that is produced in any nation under the sun, that is not available even to those of limited means. In the heathen countries it is not so. They are still riding in carts drawn by oxen. Without clothing and without comforts, the people in Africa are still groping through the bushes and jungles. And if you go to India and China and Japan you will find that only in so far as they have been brought under the influence of the religion of Jesus Christ, do they have even now the material blessings which come with the Gospel. But there are other blessings which come to us with the preaching of the Gospel. In heathen countries they have no asylums to care for the orphans, no hospitals for the sick and the distressed and the dying; no institutions of charity and of mercy; but few schools, and these only for the rich and the upper classes. So you see that these things are among the gifts which God has given us with His Son Jesus Christ, whose birth we celebrate on Christmas day. Then there are also the spiritual blessings and gifts. God's grace, communion with God, and the joy and satisfaction we have in our hearts in knowing that we are the children of God; that Jesus Christ has redeemed us from sin and death; that we are the heirs of everlasting life, and of everlasting glory. And the Bible promises us that in the world to come we shall enjoy everlasting blessedness, and happiness and joy--that we shall dwell forever with Jesus Christ; that we shall be made kings and queens unto our God. The Bible tells us, that it has not entered into the heart of man to think or to conceive of the things which God has in store for those who love Him. If we were to laden this tree with all the richest treasures of the world they could not adequately suggest the great blessings which God has in store for you and for me. How fitting, then, that we should be glad and joyous on Christmas day!--that you and I should receive not simply these material gifts, but that we should also accept of Jesus Christ in our hearts and receive His spiritual blessings; and so be adopted into the family of God, and be permitted to dwell for ever in His presence on high. May God always bless you in your Christmas joy, and may you be glad not only because you receive the gifts of your parents and friends, but also because God gives to us all, His Only Begotten and Well Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, to be our Redeemer and Friend. QUESTIONS.--What event does Christmas Day commemorate? About what time of the year are the days shortest and the nights longest? What does the darkness of the long nights represent? Was the world in moral darkness when Christ came? Is He the world's Redeemer? What trees are green in the winter? Whom does the evergreen tree represent? Why? Where did the custom of having Christmas trees probably originate? What do the things on the Christmas tree represent? Did people give Christmas presents before Christ came? What do our gifts to one another represent? With His Son, has God given us other things which we are to enjoy? Where do people enjoy the greatest material comforts and blessings, in Christian or heathen lands? In what lands are the largest spiritual blessings enjoyed? EASTER SUNDAY. THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY. SUGGESTION:--Objects: An egg and a little chick in a cage, or a toy chick, such as are often available at Easter time may be used. MY LITTLE FRIENDS: Can you tell me what we commemorate on Easter Sunday? Yes, we commemorate the resurrection of Christ from the dead. You remember how some weeks ago I showed you a watch-case.[A] You thought it was a watch, but when I opened it it had no works in it, consequently it was only a watch-case. When I placed the works in the case, then it made a complete watch. So you have also seen the body of a dead person and you have possibly thought that that was the individual, the person whom you had known; but that which you saw was only the body. The soul, the immortal part, had taken its departure and gone back to God who first placed it in the body. Now, just the same as the works of a watch can keep good time without being in the case, so the soul can exist apart from the body. If you were to take the watch-case and bury it in the ground, that fact would not affect either the existence or the accuracy of the works of the watch in measuring time. So when God takes the soul out of the body we say that it is a dead body, and it becomes necessary for us to bury it out of our sight. [Illustration: The Women at the Sepulchre.] On Good Friday we commemorate the death of Christ upon the cross on Calvary. You remember how, after the crucifixion, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus came and took the body of Christ down from the cross and laid it in a new tomb which Joseph had hewn out of rock in his garden. When this had been done, Pilate remembered how Jesus had said that if He were put to death, after three days He would rise again. Now, Pilate did not believe that Jesus would rise again, but was afraid that His disciples or some friends might come by night and steal away His body and circulate the report that Jesus had risen from the dead; so he placed Roman soldiers around the sepulchre to prevent His disciples from coming near the tomb, or sepulchre where Joseph had laid away the body of Christ. Pilate purposed to prevent the possibility of Christ's resurrection, but in the fact that he placed the soldiers there he secured for all after ages the most positive proof that Jesus did actually rise from the dead. These soldiers were Roman soldiers, and if they had slept while they were upon guard duty, the penalty would have been death. But when the angel came down from heaven and rolled away the stone, then we are told that these Roman soldiers became as dead men. It is on Easter Sunday that we commemorate this rising of Christ from the grave or sepulchre. Now, can you tell me why it is that on Easter we have these Easter eggs, such as I hold in my hand? I will tell you why it is. It is because while the outside of this egg is like the outside of a vault or grave, yet inside there is a germ of life. If you take a dozen perfect eggs and place them under a mother hen, and have her set on them for three weeks, at the end of that time out of these eggs which seem to have nothing of life in them, there will come forth little chickens, just such as I hold in my hand, only this one is not alive. But it is a very accurate representation of a little chicken a day or two old. Now, just in this same way if you were to drive through a cemetery and look at a vault, which is the nearest that we have in this country in likeness to the sepulchre in which the body of Christ was laid, you would not suppose for a moment that there would be living people in that vault. While the bodies that are in the vault are dead bodies, yet they have the promise of life, God will some day raise them up, unite again the soul and the body and give them that everlasting life and resurrection glory which Jesus has promised. And as Jesus rose from the dead on Easter Sunday morning, so we have the promise that in the final resurrection the bodies of all who have ever lived upon the earth shall hear the voice of the Son of God and shall come forth; those who have lived Christian lives to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of death and eternal punishment. [Illustration: Little Chickens Just Out of the Shells.] The egg then is the symbol of life, for out of this seemingly lifeless object there comes forth the living chick; so out of the graves and sepulchres there will eventually come forth the bodies of all who have ever died, and these bodies shall become resurrection bodies. These mortals shall put on immortality, and these corruptible bodies shall put on incorruption; and then the souls and the bodies of all shall be reunited, never again to be separated throughout all eternity. Perhaps during the past few months or years you may have laid away in the grave the body of some dear little brother or sister, or perhaps of a kind father or mother, or some other friend; if so, the spring season of the year will suggest to you the resurrection. The grass and the flowers which appeared to be dead last fall, and which during the winter have been wrapped in a white shroud of snow, now feel the warm breath of spring, and life and beauty are coming forth out of the sepulchre of the winter. Soon all the trees will put forth their leaves and then beauteous blossoms and sweet fragrance will tell of the spring time as the resurrection period of the year. So at Easter time we properly turn to the cemeteries where rest the bodies of our loved ones and know that the long winter of death and decay shall eventually give place to the promised resurrection of life and beauty. On that Easter morn the bodies of our loved ones shall be raised up, the soul and the body shall be reunited, and we shall see them and know them as they are. Now, just how God shall gather again all the scattered parts of these bodies that were buried in the sea, or have decayed back to earth in the ground, we do not know. But our ignorance does not change the fact. I do not understand how at first God created man out of dust of the earth, nor do I know how the bread and meat and food which I eat each day nourish my life and become part of my own body. I do not know how, out of the same handful of earth, either an apple or a flower might grow. I know that it is so, but the how I do not know; nor does my ignorance prevent or hinder God from accomplishing it. If each day I eat food which by some strange power which God has placed within me is changed into bones in my body, to hair on my head, to nails on the ends of my fingers, to teeth, and eyes and ears and thus becomes a part of myself, why should I question, or desire to know how God is able to quicken in the grave the power to make the body to live again. If in the beginning God only spoke and worlds came into being, I know that when He shall command these bodies to rise from death and the grave they also will hear His voice and obey. I am sure that no boy nor girl here would want that, on the morning of the resurrection his or her body should refuse to obey God's voice when He shall command the dead to come forth from their graves in life and beauty. You will want to obey Him then, but should you not also desire to obey Him now? When God tells you in the Bible what He wants you to do, are you obedient? Do you do as He commands? If you are disobedient now, then in the morning of the resurrection you might even desire, rather to remain in your grave, so that you should not have to look into the face of Him whom you have disobeyed and offended. If you want to awake on that final Easter morning in the likeness of Jesus and be forever with Him in glory, remember that you must obey God now as Jesus did when He was upon the earth. If we would be like Jesus in glory, we must strive to be like Him in all that we do, and I trust that you may think of this daily. At all times when you are uncertain what it is your duty to do, ask yourself this question: "If He were in my place, what would Jesus do?" And then act and do as nearly as possible as you think Jesus would do under the same circumstances. QUESTIONS.--What does Easter commemorate? Is a dead body actually the person you knew? What has become of the soul? What do we commemorate on Good Friday? Of what are Easter eggs the symbol? What does the shell represent? What does the inside represent? Will the bodies of all who have died be raised some day? Who tells us this? What will God do with the risen bodies? What will become of the good? What of the wicked? Do we know how God will gather the scattered parts of the body? Does it make any difference whether we know how or not? Is anyone likely to refuse God's summons on the Judgment Day? Do we always obey Him now? When in doubt what question should we ask ourselves? [Illustration] FOOTNOTE: [A] NOTE--Sermon on Watch and Case, see page 125. CROWNS. THE CHILDREN OF THE KING. SUGGESTION:--Objects: A crown of leaves or paper, or of both. BOYS AND GIRLS: I have to-day two or three crowns, and I want to talk to you about those who are children of the King. [Illustration: A Crown of Leaves.] [Illustration: A Jewelled Crown.] First of all, I have here a crown which is made of leaves. This was the first kind of crown ever used. Three thousand years ago or more, those who excelled in strength, or running, or wrestling, or in any of the games which were common then, received a crown like this, which was placed upon their heads. This was regarded as a very great honor. Afterward, the kings of the earth began to use crowns. Their crowns were made of gold and set with costly jewels. These they wore on state occasions to indicate their high rank and position. Here is a crown made of gilt paper and set with a few silver-paper stars, meant to represent the crowns which kings and queens wear. While this crown is only made of paper, the crowns of kings and queens are made of gold, set with many costly stones. Besides the larger jewels in the crown of King George V. of England, there are also sixteen sapphires, eleven emeralds, nearly three hundred pearls, and some twenty-eight hundred very costly diamonds, and it is estimated to be worth many millions of dollars. [Illustration: The Crowns on a Table.] Now suppose that we had gathered into this room the children, the boys and girls, of all the kings and queens of earth. Suppose also that they could all understand English, and that none of them knew that they were the sons and daughters of kings and queens, and that it was my delightful privilege to tell them how great and rich and powerful their parents are; and then I were also permitted to tell them, for the first time, what beautiful crowns their parents own. Suppose also that after exciting their curiosity about these things, I should have the crowns of all the kings of earth placed on a long table at my side, covered with a beautiful cloth, and after telling them about the crowns, I should uncover this table with all these crowns of gold, studded with jewels. Don't you suppose that the eyes of all those boys and girls would sparkle with curiosity and delight? But now, suppose that it were my privilege to do more than to show them the crowns. Suppose that I were permitted also to tell them that they were heirs to these crowns, and that after their fathers and mothers, the present kings and queens, had died, they were to become kings and queens, and were to receive these crowns as their own. Suppose that, more than this, it were my privilege to pick up the crown of Denmark, and then calling some little boy to me I were to hand it to him, and tell him that he was to keep it, and that some day it would be placed upon his head, and he would be King of Denmark. And then I should take the crown of Sweden, and calling another girl, I should give her that crown, and tell her that she should keep it, until some day it would be placed upon her head, and she should be Queen of Sweden. Suppose that in the same way I should take the crowns of Germany and Russia, and Austria, and Italy, and Spain, and the great crown of England, and all the crowns of all the nations of the earth; and calling the boys and girls by name, should have them come forward and receive these crowns, to be kept until they should be placed upon their heads, when they should be Kings and Queens, ruling in great pomp, and splendor, and honor, and power. Do you not think that it would be a very happy hour to these boys and girls, when all these great thoughts should be disclosed to them for the first time, and they should look upon such costly crowns, and receive them into their own hands, as their very own? Now, boys and girls, while you have been listening to me, you have possibly not thought that what I have told you is really being fulfilled in your own hearing to-day, for the Bible tells us, "I will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." (2 Cor. vi: 18.) Then, in another place, it also says, "Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be." (1 John iii: 2.) So you see that it is my privilege to-day to talk, not to the children of earthly kings, whose glory is only temporal and whose honor is always uncertain, but I am permitted to talk to the children of the King of kings. (1 Tim. vi: 15; Rev. xix: 16.) The Scriptures not only tell us that God "is the only Potentate (the only powerful one), the King of kings," but it also tells us that He "hath made us unto our God kings and priests." (Rev. v: 10.) The same great book also tells us, not only, that we shall be kings and priests unto our God, but that we "shall reign forever and ever." (Rev. xxii: 5.) When a king dies he ceases to be king upon earth, but when God shall make us kings and queens and crown us in Heaven, we shall never die again, or cease to be kings and queens. The Bible tells us very clearly that our Father in Heaven is King over all earthly kings; greater than any of them; greater than all the kings of earth put together; a million times greater; yes, millions and millions of times greater; so much greater that the two do not compare in reality, but earthly kings simply suggest to our minds something of our great Heavenly King. God, this great King, created us and we were His children. But our first parents sinned and rebelled against Him, and refused to recognize Him as Father and to obey what He wanted them to do. But God loved them and us as a tender Father, and sent His only-begotten and well-beloved Son, Jesus Christ, to reconcile us; to tell us that God the Father loved us; that He was willing to forgive us, and that He would still accept us and make us kings and priests unto Himself, would crown us with glory, would give us dominion and make us kings and priests forever in Heaven. So you see that there can be no mistake about our being sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty. We are not only His children, but He has promised us crowns of glory and thrones of dominion and power. If you and I were in England to-day and could walk into the Tower of London, where they keep the crown and the jewels of the royal family, and we could learn the value of these costly jewels, and crowns and scepters, it matters not how rich we might be, I am sure we would have to despair of ever being able to purchase these costly crown jewels. They are estimated at many millions of dollars. Now, if an earthly crown, which can only be retained for a few years, is so valuable, how much more valuable are the everlasting crowns, such as God gives, and which are to be ours for all eternity? And if we are not able to buy such an earthly crown, how much less are we able to purchase or buy a heavenly crown? The heavenly crowns are so valuable that we could never hope to buy them, therefore God gives them to us because He loves us. More than two hundred years ago a man by the name of Colonel Blood attempted to steal the crowns and the crown jewels of England. He was not altogether successful, but was arrested before he escaped with them. But do you know that there are many who would steal your crown, and my crown of everlasting glory, if they possibly could? Therefore, God tells us in the Bible, "Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown." (Rev. iii: 11.) So you see it is very important that we should be constantly on our guard. The King of England has soldiers to watch day and night, lest any one should steal his crown. And so also you and I need to be constantly on our guard, lest wicked people and sinful influences should rob us of our heavenly crown. Not only are crowns sometimes stolen, but sometimes they are also lost. About fifty years ago some people were digging in France, and they found eight costly crowns, all lying close together, having been lost or hidden away in the earth. Four of them were very costly and very beautiful, while the others were smaller crowns. The first four were for the king and the queen, and the prince, and one other of the older children, and the other four crowns were for the younger children of the king's household. Yet you see that the father and mother and all the children lost their crowns. I trust that no parents here, or children either, would prize their heavenly crowns so lightly as ever to lose them. There are thousands of people who would be willing to put forth any effort, or to pay any costs, if they could only obtain an earthly crown, and yet the Bible tells us that these people do it "to obtain a corruptible crown; but we, an incorruptible." (1 Cor. ix: 25.) Now, by a corruptible crown is meant one that, like this crown made of leaves, will fade and fall to pieces, and decay, and thus pass entirely away. Even a crown of gold, studded with costly jewels, would thus also eventually perish. The crown which God gives to us is an imperishable crown, which never fades, and never passes away. And therefore the Scriptures say, "And when the Chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away." (1 Peter v: 4.) Since the Bible teaches us these truths so plainly, "What manner of persons ought we to be, in all holy conversation and godliness?" (2 Peter iii: 11.) What more appropriate words could I say to you in closing, than that which God says to us in the blessed Book in which He has revealed all these things, "Wherefore, beloved, seeing that ye look for such things, be diligent, that ye may be found of him in peace without spot, and blameless." (2 Peter iii: 14.) QUESTIONS.--What kind of crown was first worn? Because crowns of leaves were so perishable, of what were crowns later made? What can you tell about the crown of the king of England? If the crowns of all the kings of earth could be brought together, would people desire to see them? If the children of earthly kings were present and we told them for the first time that they were the children of kings and gave them the crowns which they were eventually to own, would they be likely to be pleased? Are you the child of a King who is the King above all kings? Has He promised you a crown? Will your crown be perishable? How long will it last? Can you quote any of the passages of Scripture which tell of our being the children of the King of kings? Could the crown of an earthly king be bought? Is there money enough in the world to buy a crown of everlasting life? How then is this crown to be obtained? Who once stole a crown and the crown jewels of England? Was he successful in getting away with them? Who tries to steal our crown of everlasting glory? Is he ever successful? Can you tell about the eight crowns which were found hidden away in the earth in France? In what book are we told that our crown is to be imperishable and unfading, and to be ours forever? What exhortation is contained in the last sentence of the last sermon in this book? THE END. A WORD TO PARENTS [Illustration] THE imploring letters which come to me constantly from all parts of the globe, written by young men and women who are almost hopelessly struggling to be freed from evils into which they have fallen through ignorance, prompt me to urge upon parents the great importance of safe-guarding their children from evils unspeakable by information which should always reach the child through the parent. Many parents appreciate their duty to their children in this matter; the only thing that restrains them is that they do not know what to say and how to say it. They are in just the situation that I found myself with my own boy and girl before I had made a special study of this subject. It was to assist parents in this trying situation that I wrote "What a Young Boy Ought to Know," and that Dr. Mary Wood-Allen wrote "What a Young Girl Ought to Know." These two books, together with "What a Young Man Ought to Know" and "What a Young Woman Ought to Know," have proven a benediction to thousands of parents, and have saved multitudes of boys and girls; of young men and young women from evils that come from blind blundering among dangers that are attended with consequences that often project themselves throughout the entire life, and frequently involve even future generations. These books were written to make men and women--not money. The United States Government has had the books to men placed in the libraries of all the battleships, and those addressed to boys and girls and young men and young women placed in all the schools maintained by the Government for the education of the North American Indians. Requests have been made for permission to translate these books into some forty different languages, and most of these requests have come from Christian missionaries and church missionary societies, who have desired the teachings which these books contain for use by their missionaries. These books, in English, sell at One Dollar per copy, and a simple post card request addressed to the writer of the little book you now hold in your hands, will bring you descriptive printed matter by early post. SYLVANUS STALL, 206 North Fifteenth Street, Philadelphia, Pa., U. S. A. WITH THE CHILDREN ON SUNDAYS * * * * * Through Eye-Gate and Ear-Gate Into the City of Child Soul * * * * * _By_ SYLVANUS STALL, D. D. * * * * * _ENTHUSIASTICALLY COMMENDED BY THE PRESS_ * * * * * FOR THE FAMILY CIRCLE AND TEACHERS. "Delightful and instructive reading for the family circle on Sunday afternoons."--_The Ram's Horn._ "The language and style are simple and effective. In approaching the mind and heart through the eye, as well as the ear, Dr. Stall uses the method which the best instructor should use to convey knowledge to the mind of the child. The book is suggestive of effective work, and is worthy of the careful attention of all who talk to children in the Sunday School, Church and home."--_Augsburg Teacher._ "These sermons cannot help being suggestive to every one who would interest children. The sermons are fascinating, and their publication marks an era in the instruction and edification of children. They will serve a noble purpose in calling back to the simplicity of preaching so wonderfully illustrated in the words of Christ."--_Wesleyan Methodist._ SPECIALLY ADAPTED TO CHILDREN. "Dr. Stall has undoubtedly the happy faculty of presenting to children sober truths in a manner to them most interesting."--_Times_, Boston, Mass. "In this little volume there are good examples of excellent preaching to the young, and the book merits a wide circulation."--_Central Presbyterian._ "These little delightful sermons are models of point and brevity, and reach the little hearts through the eye and the ear."--_Christian Observer._ "A more practical series of discourses for children we never before have seen. The illustrations are simple and forceful, and the lessons worthy of consideration."--_Central Methodist._ "It is an excellent work, and the plan is admirably suited to reach and impress youthful minds with correct principles. The language is plain and easily understood and yet the central thought is well defined and easily grasped."--_The Christian Instructor._ "The topics are timely and fresh, the objects simple and telling, and the sermons themselves just what sermons to children ought to be, brief and well illustrated, fascinating and practical. Boys and girls will devour every one of them with relish, whilst we children of a larger growth will be children again."--_Lutheran Observer._ "The chapters contained in the volume are such as are sure to win the attention and interest of the children. We are confident that Dr. Stall has found the right key to the situation, and we commend his work most heartily."--_Messiah's Herald._ "The gift of talking sense to children in a way interesting to them is a rare one. These fifty-two short sermons show that Dr. Stall has this rare gift in an eminent degree. This is shown, not only in his way of putting things, but also in his subjects and illustrative objects."--_Lutheran Quarterly._ "In this volume the author seeks to attract the young through the presentation of the old truths of the Gospel in the form which arrest the eye, secures the attention, impresses the mind, and wins the heart for Christ and the right. The entrance into the city of Child-soul is sought by assaulting both the Eye-gate and Ear-gate. At the same time the illustrations used are impressive, the truths taught are simple, and the impressions made are likely to be lasting."--_Jersey City Times_. "It is not every one who is able to present to children sober truths in a manner interesting to them, for it requires a special talent to either speak to or write for children, but Dr. Stall has undoubtedly the happy faculty of doing this. The author's object is to implant in the child's mind seeds of truth and love, nobleness and justice, and all the virtues that go to make a manly boy and womanly girl, as well as a God-loving child."--_Boston Times._ * * * * * FROM THE CHILDREN OF NEW ENGLAND. SYLVANUS STALL, D. D., Philadelphia, Pa. REVEREND SIR: I wish to thank you in behalf of my school children for having your short sermons to children published. I read them to my school children as part of our devotional exercises, and I often hear remarks like this: "I wish the author would come to Moose Meadow. I wish I could hear him. I wish I could see him and thank him for writing those sermons. Can't we write to him and thank him?" etc., and so I have been led to write you, thanking you in their behalf. Moose Meadow is a small country place in Eastern Connecticut, and I wish you to know that the country children enjoy your sermons equally as well as city children, and I am very glad that a copy of your book was put into my hands. I feel very grateful to God for putting it into the heart of some one to write such interesting sermons and beautiful object lessons. Respectfully, MRS. A. B. DAWE. Moose Meadow, Town of Willington, Connecticut. A SUGGESTIVE BOOK FOR PREACHERS. "Pastors in search of something suggestive for talking in a helpful manner to children will find this book both helpful and suggestive."--_Reformed Church Messenger._ "A careful reading of this book will enable any minister of anything like ordinary brightness to adapt much of his preaching to the comprehension of the young."--_Gospel Messenger._ "We do not know that we can give a stronger commendation of this little volume than to say that on a brief examination of it we got the suggestion for a series of half a dozen evening sermons to young people. The book is most suggestive, and spiritually as well as mentally refreshing."--_Christian Statesman._ "An examination of the little sermons in this book shows the reader that Dr. Stall skillfully manages each topic, and leaves helpful lessons of moral and religious truths. The book will suggest to pastors methods of work that will bring the children into a closer relation to the services of the Sabbath."--_Christian Secretary._ "Excellent, admirable, irresistible approaches through the Eye-gate and Ear-gate in the City of Child-soul. The author is a genius. There is not a dull line between the covers of this book."--_Christian Endeavor World._ OTHER ENTHUSIASTIC WORDS. "These sermons are delightful and helpful in their explanation. We have seen nothing that compares with it."--_Herald of Gospel Liberty._ "These sermons are animated in style, bright, interesting and practical."--_The Advance._ "Dr. Stall's sermons are excellent examples of abstract lessons from the common objects of everyday life, practical and effective."--_Books and Authors._ "Dr. Stall is an expert in this line of work attempted, and we may add achieved in this little book. He addresses little object sermons as bright, pithy and taking as they can be with a good point to them always."--_New York Independent._ "These short sermons will be found wonderfully suggestive. The author goes back to Bible methods, and selects common things with which all are familiar from which to draw his lessons."--_Inter Ocean_, Chicago. "The old truths of the Gospel in this new form arrest the eye, secure the attention, impress the mind, and win the heart for Christ."--_Herald and Presbytery._ "The illustrations used are impressive, and truths taught are important, and the impressions made are likely to be lasting."--_New York Observer._ "The author, after the manner of the parables told by our Lord, presents important truths of the Gospel to the easy comprehension of both old and young."--_Christian Work._ "These little sermons are free from sensational, mawkish, maudlin stories. At the same time, they are interesting for old and young, and the short talks to children are admirable."--_Western Recorder._ "With the objects of every day life presented to the eye, the author, after the manner of the parables, presents important truths of the Gospel to the easy comprehension of both the old and young."--_Methodist Recorder._ * * * * * Transcriber's note: Obvious punctuation errors were corrected. Inconsistent hyphenation was retained. Page 118, "experence" changed to "experience" (and patience experience) Page 260, repeated word "the" removed from text (he spend the summer) Page 301, "Persia" changed to "Prussia" (the King of Prussia had)