A Practical Enquiry into the Philosophy of Education

PART III.

ON THE METHODS BY WHICH THE EDUCATIONAL PROCESSES OF NATURE MAY BE SUCCESSFULLY IMITATED.

CHAP. I.

On the Exercises by which Nature may be imitated in cultivating
the Powers of the Mind.

In the educational processes of Nature, her first object appears to be the cultivation of her pupil's mind; and this, therefore, ought also to be the first concern of the parent and teacher.—The wisdom of this arrangement is obvious. For as success in a great measure depends upon the vigour and extent of those powers, their early cultivation will render the succeeding exercises easy and pleasant, and will greatly abridge the anxiety and labour of both teacher and scholar.

There is no doubt a great diversity in the natural capacities of children; and phrenology, as well as daily experience shews, that children who are apt in learning one thing, may be exceedingly dull and backward in acquiring others. But after making every allowance for this variety in the intellectual powers of children, it is well established by experience, and repeated experiments have confirmed the fact,[9] that the very dullest and most obtuse of the children found in any of our schools, are really capable of rapid cultivation, and may, by the use of proper means, be very soon brought to bear their part in the usual exercises fitted for the ordinary children. A large proportion of the dulness so frequently complained of by teachers arises, not so much from any natural defect, or inherent mental weakness in the child, as from the want of that early mental exercise,—real mental culture,—of which we are here speaking. Whenever this dulness in a sane scholar continues for any length of time, there is good reason to fear that it is owing to some palpable mismanagement on the part of the parent or teacher. On examination it will most likely be found, either that the pupil has had exercises prescribed to him which the powers of his mind were as yet incapable of accomplishing; or, if the exercises themselves have been suitable, there has been more prescribed than he was able to overtake. In either case the effect will be the same. The mind has been unnaturally burdened, or overstretched; confusion of ideas and mental weakness have been the consequence; and if so, the very attempt to keep up with his companions in the class only tends to aggravate the evil. Hence arises the propriety of following Nature in making the expansion and cultivation of the powers of the mind our first object; and our design in the present chapter is to examine into the means by which, in the exercises of the school, she may be successfully imitated in the operations which she employs for this purpose.

We have in our previous investigations seen, that the cultivation of the mental powers is a work of extraordinary simplicity, depending entirely upon one act of the mind,—the reiteration of ideas. We have proved, by a variety of familiar instances, that wherever this act takes place, the mind is, and must be exercised, and so far strengthened; while, on the contrary, wherever it does not take place, there is neither mental exercise, nor any perceptible accession of mental strength. It does not depend upon the particular form of the exercise, whether it consists of reading, hearing, writing, or speaking; but simply and entirely upon the reality and the frequency of the reiteration of the included ideas during it. This makes the cultivation and strengthening of the powers of the mind a very simple and a very certain operation. For if the teacher can succeed by any means in producing frequent and successive repetitions of this act of the mind in any of his pupils, Nature will be true to her own law, and mental culture, and mental strength will assuredly follow;—but, on the contrary, whenever in a school exercise this act is awanting, there can be no permanent progression in the education of the pupil, and no amelioration in the state of his mind. The mechanical reading or repeating of words, for example, like the fingering of musical instruments, may be performed for months or years successively, without the powers of the mind being actively engaged in the process at all; leaving the child without mental exercise, and consequently without improvement.

In following out the only legitimate plan for the accomplishment of this fundamental object, that of imitating Nature, the first thing required by the teacher is an exercise, or series of exercises, by which he shall be able at his own will to enforce upon his pupils this important act of the mind. If this object can be successfully attained, then the proper means for the intellectual improvement of the child are secured; but as long as it is awanting, his mental cultivation is either left to chance, or to the capricious decision of his own will;—for experience shews, that although a child may be compelled to read, or to repeat the words of his exercises, they contain no power by which the teacher can ensure the reiteration of the ideas they contain. The words may correctly and fluently pass from the tongue, while the mind is actively engaged upon something else, and as much beyond the reach of the teacher as ever. But if the desiderated exercise could be procured, the power of enforcing mental activity upon a prescribed subject would then remain, not in the possession of the child, but would be transferred to the teacher, at whose pleasure the mental cultivation of the pupil would proceed, whether he himself willed it or no.

In the "catechetical exercise," as it has been called, and which has of late years been extensively used by our best teachers, the desideratum above described has been most happily and effectively supplied to the Educationist. This valuable exercise may not perhaps be new;—but certainly its nature, and its importance in education, till of late years, has been altogether overlooked, or unknown. It differs from the former mode of catechising, (or rather of using catechisms) in this, that whereas a catechism provides an answer for the child in a set form of words,—the catechetical exercise, having first provided him with the means, compels him to search for, to select, and to construct an answer for himself. For example, an announcement is given by his teacher, or it is read from his book. This is the raw material upon which both the teacher and the child are to work, and within the boundaries of which the teacher especially must strictly confine himself. Upon this announcement a question is founded,[10] which obliges the child, before he can even prepare an answer, to reiterate in his own mind, not the words,—for that would not answer his purpose,—but the several ideas contained in the sentence or truth announced. All these ideas must be perceived,—they must pass in review before the mind,—and from among them he must select the one required, arrange it in his own way, and give it to the teacher entirely as his own idea, and clothed altogether in his own words.

In the common method of making use of catechisms, the words of the answer may be read, or they may be committed to memory, and may be repeated with ease and fluency; while the ideas,—the truths they contain,—may neither be perceived nor reiterated. In this there is neither mental exercise, nor mental improvement;—and, what is worse, without the catechetical exercise, the teacher has no means of knowing whether it be so or not. By means of the catechetical exercise, on the contrary, there can be no evasion,—no doubt as to the mental activity of the pupil, and his consequent mental improvement. Its benefits are very extensive; and in employing it the teacher is not only sure that the ideas in the announcement have been perceived and reiterated, but that a numerous train of useful mental operations must have taken place, before his pupil could by any possibility return him an answer to his questions. We shall, before proceeding, point out a few of these.

Let us then suppose that a child either reads, or repeats as the answer to a question, the words, "Jesus died for sinners."—At this point in the former mode of using a catechism, the exercise of the pupil stopped; and the parent or teacher understanding the meaning of the sentence, and clearly perceiving the ideas himself, usually took it for granted that the child also did so, or at least at some future time would do so. This was mere conjecture; and he had no means of ascertaining its certainty, however important. It is at this point that the catechetical exercise commences its operations. When the child has repeated the words, or when the teacher for the first time announces them, the mind of the child may be in a state very unfavourable to its improvement; but as soon as the teacher asks him a question founded upon one or more of the ideas which the announcement contains, and which he must answer without farther help, the state of his mind is instantly and materially changed. Hitherto he may have been altogether passive on the subject;—nay, his mind while reading or repeating the words, may have been busily engaged on something else, or altogether occupied with his companions or his play;—but as soon as the teacher asks him "Who died?" there is an instant withdrawal of the mind from every thing else, and an exclusive concentration of its powers upon the ideas in the announcement. He must think,—and he must think in a certain way, and upon the specific ideas presented to him by the teacher,—before it is possible for him to return an answer. It is on this account that this exercise is so effective an instrument in cultivating the powers of the mind;—and it is to the long series of exercises which take place in this operation, that we are now calling the attention of the reader, that he may perceive how closely this exercise follows in the line prescribed by Nature, in creating occasions for the successive reiteration of different ideas suggested by one question.

When, in pursuing the catechetical exercise, a question is asked from an announcement, there is first a call upon the attention, and an exercise of mind upon the question asked, the words of which must be translated by the pupil into their proper ideas, which accordingly he must both perceive and understand. He has then to revert to the ideas (not the words) contained in the original announcement, the words of which are perhaps still ringing in his ears; and these he must also perceive and reiterate in his mind, before he can either understand them or prepare to give an answer. At this point the child is necessarily in possession of the ideas—the truths—conveyed by the announcement; and therefore at this point one great end of the teacher has in so far been gained. But the full benefit of the exercise, in so far as it is capable of fixing these truths still more permanently on the memory, and of disciplining the mind, has not yet been exhausted. After the pupil has reiterated in his mind the ideas contained in the original sentence, or passage announced, he has again to revert to the question of the teacher, and compare it with the several ideas which the announcement contains. He has then to chuse from among them,—all of them being still held in review by the mind,—the particular idea to which his attention has been called by the question;—and last of all, and which is by no means the least as a mental exercise, he has to clothe this particular idea in words, and construct his sentence in such a way as to make it both sense and grammar. In this last effort, it is worthy of remark, children, after having been but a short while subjected to this exercise, almost invariably succeed, although they know nothing about grammar, and may perhaps never have heard of the name.

But even this is not all. There has as yet been only one question asked, and the answer to this question refers to only one idea contained in the announcement. But it embraces at least three several ideas; and each of these ideas, by the catechetical exercise, is capable of originating other questions, perfectly distinct from each other, and each of which gives rise to a similar mental process, and with equally beneficial results, in exercising and strengthening the powers of the mind.

It is also here of importance to take notice of the additional benefits that arise from the multiplying of questions upon one announcement. The first question proposed from the announcement, brought the mind of the child into immediate contact with all the ideas which it contained. They are now therefore familiar to him; and he is perfectly prepared for the second, and for every succeeding question formed upon it; and he fashions the answers with readiness and zest. Every such answer is a kind of triumph to the child, which he gives with ease and pleasure, and yet every one of them, as an exercise of the mind, is equally beneficial as the first. When the teacher therefore asks, "What did Jesus do?" and afterwards, "For whom did Jesus die?" a little reflection will at once shew, that a similar mental exercise must take place at each question, in which the child has not only to reiterate the several original ideas, but must again and again compare the questions asked, with each one of them, choose out the one required, clothe it in his own language, and in this form repeat it audibly to his teacher.

Before leaving this enquiry into the nature and effects of the catechetical exercise, there are two circumstances connected with it as a school-engine, which deserve particular attention. The first is, that Nature has made this same reiteration of ideas, for the securing of which this exercise is used, the chief means of conveying knowledge to the mind; and the second is, the undissembled delight which children exhibit while under its influence, wherever it is naturally and judiciously conducted. With respect to the former of these circumstances, it falls more particularly to be considered in another chapter, and under a following head; but with respect to the latter,—the delight felt in the exercise by the children themselves,—it deserves here a more close examination.

Every one who has paid any attention to the subject must have observed the life, the energy, the enjoyment, which are observable in a class of children, while they are under the influence, and subjected to the discipline of the catechetical exercise. This will perhaps be still more remarkable, if ever they have had an opportunity of contrasting this lively scene with the death-like monotony of a school where the exercise is as yet unknown. Many can yet remember instances when it was first introduced into some of the Sabbath schools in Scotland, and the astonishment of the teachers at its instantaneous effects upon the mind and conduct of their children. The whole aspect of the school was changed; and the children, who had but a few minutes before been conspicuous only for their apathy, restlessness, or inattention, were instantly aroused to life, and energy, and delight. Similar effects in some children are still witnessed; but, happily for education, the first exhibition of it to a whole school is not so common. One striking proof of the novelty and extent of its effects upon the pupils, and of the vivid contrast it produced with that to which the teachers had at that time been accustomed, is afforded by the fact, that serious objections were sometimes made to its introduction, by well-meaning individuals, on account of its breaking in, as they said, upon the proper devotional solemnity of the children;—as if the apathy of languor and weariness was identical with reverence, and mental energy and joyous feelings were incompatible with the liveliest devotion. These opinions have now happily disappeared; and the catechetical exercise is not now, on that account, so frequently opposed. Christians now perceive, that by making these rough places smooth, and the crooked ways straight for the tottering feet of the lambs of the flock, they are following the best, as it is the appointed means, of "making ready a people prepared for the Lord."

To the teacher, especially, it must be a matter of great practical importance, to perceive clearly the cause why this exercise is so fascinating to the young, as well as so beneficial in education. The cause, when we analyze all the circumstances, is simply this, that it resembles, in all its leading characteristics, those amusements and pastimes of which children are so fond. In other words, the prosecution of the catechetical exercise with the young, produces in reality the same effects as a game would do if played with their teacher. It brings into action, and it keeps in lively operation, all those mental elements, which, in ordinary cases, constitute their play; and the effects of course are nearly similar. We shall direct the reader's attention to this curious fact for a moment.

It is easy to perceive, that the pleasure and happiness experienced by a child during his play, arise altogether from the state of his mind, to which the physical exercises and amusements only conduce. When this mental satisfaction is examined, we find it to consist chiefly of two elements,—that of active thought, and that of self-approbation. The first,—that of active thought, or the reiteration of ideas, we have before pointed out and explained, as it is illustrated in their play, and in the pleasure they take in hearing stories, reading riddles, dressing dolls, and similar acts; and it is only here necessary to add, that their desire of congregating together for amusement has its origin in a similar cause. New ideas stimulate more powerfully to active thought; and children soon find, and insensibly draw the lesson, that the aggregate of new ideas is always enlarged by an increase of the number of persons who supply them. Two children will play with the same number of toys for a longer time, without tiring, than if they were alone;—and three or four would, in the same proportion, increase the interest and prolong the season of activity. But as soon as the reiteration of the ideas suggested by their game becomes languid or difficult, their play for the time loses its charms, and the fascination is gone. That it is the cessation of active thought, which is the chief cause of their play ceasing to please, is proved from the circumstance, that if another interesting companion shall be added to their number, or if any thing shall occur to renew this operation,—the reiteration of ideas,—upon the mind, the same degree of interest, and to a corresponding extent, is immediately felt, and the play is resumed. Now, the catechetical exercise is in reality the same operation in another form. The questions of the teacher excite the pupil to the same kind of active thought as that which gives relish to his play; and, while the teacher confines himself within the limits of the announcement, the mental excitement is active, but moderate, and always successful.

This leads us to observe the influence which the catechetical exercise exerts in affording means for that self-approbation, or sense of merit, which constitutes another element of delight to a child during his play. All must have observed the beneficial effects of this principle in children, as an incitement to emulation and good conduct. It is not only perceptible in the love of approbation from their superiors, but in their desire to excel at all times. We see it in the pleasure felt by the child when he outstrips his fellows in the race,—when he catches his companion at "hide and seek,"—when he finds the hidden article at "seek and find,"—in winning a game, expounding a riddle, or gaining a place in his class. In all these instances there is a feeling of pure satisfaction and delight;—a feeling of self-estimation, which is at once the guardian and the reward of virtue. Now, when the catechetical exercise is conducted in its purity,—that is, when the teacher keeps strictly to the announcement, without wandering where the child cannot follow him,—the answers are invariably within the limits of the child's capacity;—they are answered successfully; and every answer is a subject of triumph. He has a delightful consciousness of having overcome a difficulty, deserved approbation, and made an advance in the pathway of merit. When properly conducted, therefore, the catechetical exercise becomes to the pupils a succession of victories; and it imparts all that delight, softened and purified, which he experiences in excelling his companion, or in winning a game.—These are the reasons why the catechetical exercise is so much relished by the young, and why it has succeeded so powerfully, not only in smoothing the pathway of education, but also in shortening it.

From a careful consideration of all these circumstances, we are led to conclude, that the catechetical exercise does, in a superior degree, fulfil all the stipulations required for imitating Nature, in exciting to the reiteration of ideas by children, and thus disciplining and cultivating the powers of their minds. We might also have remarked, that another advantage arising from persevering in this exercise, is the arresting of the attention of the children, and successfully training them to hear and understand through life the oral communications of others;—but we hasten to consider the time and the order in which this exercise should be made use of in schools.

Nature intends, that the cultivation and strengthening of the powers of the mind shall in every case precede those exercises in which their strength is to be tried. In infants and young children we perceive this cultivation and invigorating of the mind going on, long before these powers are to be taxed even for their own preservation. The child is no doubt putting them to use; but in every such case it is voluntary, and not compulsory,—a matter of choice on the part of the child, and not of necessity. The infant, or even the child, is never required to take care of itself, to clothe itself, to wash itself, or even to feed itself. To require it to do so before the mind could comprehend the nature and the design of the particular duty, would be both unreasonable and cruel. This being the case, the exercises of the nursery and the school must be regulated in a similar manner, and follow the same law. The due cultivation of the mind, like the due preparation of the soil, must always precede the sowing of the seed. If this principle in Nature be duly attended to, the seeds of knowledge afterwards cast into the soil thus broken up and prepared, will be readily received and nourished to perfection; but if the soil be neglected, both the seed and the labour will be lost, the anticipations of the spring and summer will end in delusion, and the folly of the whole proceeding will be shewn by a succession of noxious weeds, and at last by an unproductive harvest.

The evils which must necessarily result from thus running counter to Nature in this first part of her educational proceedings, may be aptly illustrated by the very common custom of beginning a child's education by teaching it to read. It would perhaps be difficult to convince many that this custom is either unnatural or improper. We shall not attempt here to argue the matter, but shall merely state a fact which they cannot deny, and which will answer the purpose we think much better than an argument.—To teach the art of reading was wont to require the labour of several months, sometimes years, before the perusal of a book could be managed by the child with any degree of ease,—and even then, without any thing approaching to satisfaction or pleasure. And even yet, although the error has in some measure been perceived of late years, yet the art of reading by the young, still requires several months' attendance at school, with corresponding labour to the teacher, and great irritation and unhappiness to the child. But experience has established the fact, that, by acting on the principle of previous preparation which we are here enforcing, and by calling into operation the principle of individuation formerly explained, the whole drudgery of teaching a child to read is got over in a week,—sometimes in a day; and this with much more ease and satisfaction, than could have been done by a thousand lessons while his mind was unprepared.[11]

The accumulation of labour, and the loss of precious time by this non-observance of the dictates of Nature, are in themselves serious evils; but they are not by any means so great as some others which almost invariably accompany this unnatural mode of proceeding with the young. Many who have nominally been taught to read, are still quite unable to understand by reading. Those who have heard chapters read by families in the country, "verse about," will at once understand what we here mean; and even in towns and cities where newspapers and low-priced books are more numerous and more tempting, it often requires long practice before the emancipated child can read these publications so readily and intelligently as they are intended to be. It is another, and an entirely different course of learning to which he subjects himself, when he labours to acquire the capacity of understanding the words that he reads, as readily as the words that he hears. Where the inducements to this are sufficiently powerful, the ability is no doubt at last acquired;—but where these stimulants are awanting, the difficulty of understanding by reading has by the previous habit become so great, that reading is gradually disused, and at last forgotten.

Many are at a loss to account for this; but it is easily explained on the above principles. To teach a child to read, before his mind is capable of understanding, or of reiterating the ideas conveyed by the words he is reading, is to train him to this habit of reading mechanically;—that is, of reading without understanding. He gradually acquires the habit of pronouncing the words which he traces with the eye, while the mind is busily engaged upon something else; in the same manner that a person acquires the habit of thinking, and even of speaking, while knitting a stocking, or sewing a seam. This habit is confirmed by constant practice; and then, the difficulty of getting off the habit is all but insurmountable. This difficulty will be best understood by the experience of those who have been during some time of their life compelled to abandon a habit after it was thoroughly confirmed;—or by those who will but try the difficulty of persevering to do something with the left hand, which has hitherto been done with the right. A very little consideration will shew, that when this habit of reading mechanically has once been established, it will require, like an improper mode of holding the pen in writing, ten-fold more labour and self-denial to remedy the evil, than it would have taken at first to prevent it, by learning to do the thing properly and perfectly.

Much therefore depends upon the early and persevering use of the catechetical exercise for cultivating a child's mind, before beginning to teach it the art of reading, or requiring it to make use of the powers of the mind on subjects which these powers are as yet incapable of comprehending. By proper preliminary exercises, the powers of the mind will be gradually expanded; ideas of every different kind, both individually and in connection with each other, will become familiar; the design of language in receiving and communicating truth will by degrees be practically understood; and, by means of the catechetical exercise, it will be gradually and successfully practised. These are obviously the means by which the present crooked ways in the child's early progress in education are to be made straight, and the rough and difficult paths which he has had so long to tread, may now be made both easy and smooth.[12]

The effects of the catechetical exercise, and its uniform beneficial results, have given sufficient evidence of its being a close imitation of Nature in this part of her educational process. Its success indeed has been invariable, even when employed by those who remained unconscious of the great principles by which that success was to be regulated. The observations and experiments employed to ascertain in some measure the extent of its efficiency, have uniformly been satisfactory, and to a few of these we shall here very shortly advert.

The first case of importance, which came under our notice, and to which we think it advisable to allude, is that of Mary L. who, about the year 1820, resided in Lady Yester's parish in Edinburgh. This girl, when her name was taken up for the Local Sabbath Schools in that parish, was about seven or eight years of age, and in respect to mental capacity, appeared to be little better than an idiot. She could not comprehend the most simple idea, if it related to any thing beyond the household objects which were daily forced upon her observation, and which had individually become familiar to the senses; and was unable to receive any instruction with the other children, however young. The catechetical exercise was adopted with her, as with the other scholars; and although, for a long period, she was unable to collect knowledge, yet the constant discipline to which the powers of the mind were thus subjected, had the happiest effect in bringing them into tone, and at last giving her the command of them. The comprehending of a simple truth when announced, became more and more distinct, and the answering of the corresponding questions, became gradually more correct and easy. At a very early period she began to relish the exercises of the school; and although these occurred only on the Sundays, she continued rapidly to improve; till, in the course of a few years, she was able to join the higher classes of the children, and made a respectable appearance among her companions, at those times when they were submitted to examination.—When these schools were broken up, no stranger could have remarked any difference between Mary L. and an ordinary child of the same age.

A similar instance occurred more recently in the case of two sisters, (Margaret and Mary J.) the condition of whose minds originally was better, although not much, than that of Mary L. At the respective ages of six and eight years, these sisters could scarcely receive or comprehend the simplest idea not connected with their daily ordinary affairs. For some years they had no more teaching, or regular mental exercise, than two hours weekly on the Sundays, and during that period they were, in regard to mental capacity, advancing, but still nearly alike. The eldest (Margaret,) was then removed to another class, the teacher of which dedicated another evening during the week for the benefit of her scholars. The consequence of this apparently slight addition to the mental exercise of this girl soon became apparent; and in the course of a short time, the powers of Margaret's mind not only advanced beyond those of her sister's, but equalled at least those of children of the same age, who had not enjoyed similar opportunities of improvement. Her sister Mary, who continued to enjoy only the two hours on Sunday, advanced proportionally in mental strength;—and before she left the district in which the school was situated, her original incapacity could scarcely have been credited by a stranger. In proof of this, it may be added, that long after she had left the parish, the writer found her by accident in the school which she attended after removing, examined her with the other children, and made some strict and searching enquiries concerning her. The report of her teacher was exceedingly satisfactory; and, without knowing the reason of these enquiries, declared, that Mary J. was one of her best scholars. Before leaving this notice of these two children, there is a circumstance which may perhaps be worthy of recording. In Margaret's countenance there had gradually appeared, latterly, that which to a stranger gave all the ordinary indications of intellect, and rather superior intelligence; while in Mary's case, at the same period, there continued to be much of that vacancy of look, and stupid stare, indicative rather of what she was, than of what she had become. That also, however, was gradually disappearing.

We shall advert only to one other instance, less remarkable perhaps, and certainly not so decisive, on account of the shortness of the time during which the experiment was continued. In the opinion of the honourable and venerable examinators, however, it was considered as sufficiently decisive, and of much public importance. Its application to prison discipline may ultimately be of value, where prisoners are confined but for short periods, and where the cultivation of the mind, and the growing capacity to receive and retain religious truth are objects of importance.

In the experiment in 1828, made before the Lord Provost, Principal, Professors, and Clergymen of Edinburgh, in the County Jail, a class of criminals which had been formed three weeks before, and exercised one hour daily, were thoroughly and individually examined without intermission during nearly three hours. Our present extract from the Report of that Experiment refers, not to the amount of knowledge acquired by these persons during these three weeks, but to the capacity which, at the end of that time, they were found to possess of acquiring every sort of knowledge. This experiment was so far imperfect, as the Examinators had no means of ascertaining the true state of their minds, previous to the commencement of their exercises. But having, upon enquiry found from the governor of the prison, that there had been no selection, that all the individuals in the ward had been taken, and that at the commencement of the experiment, they formed a fair sample of the prisoners commonly under his charge,—the progress of this mental cultivation during that short period, became a special object of examination by the Reverend and learned individuals who conducted it. Their Report of the Experiment bears, that "these individuals had been taken without any regard to their abilities, and former acquirements, and formed a fair average of the usual prisoners." In endeavouring to ascertain the grasp of mind which these individuals possessed, and the readiness with which they received and retained whatever was, even for the first time, communicated to them, "it was mentioned, that a gentlemen on the previous day, in order to try the capacity of mind which they had attained, desired Mr Gall to catechise them upon a section, consisting of fourteen verses, which they had not seen before, and that, after just ten minutes' examination, one woman, who could not read, repeated the whole distinctly in her own words. Dr Brunton proposed, for a similar experiment, the parable of the 'talents,' with which none was acquainted except one woman, who was consequently not permitted to answer. With its being only read to them, and with a few minutes' catechising, they perceived its various circumstances, and were able to enumerate them in detail. This exercise demonstrated the capacity of attention, and the power of analyzing and laying hold of circumstances, which they had reached, as well as the indisputable superiority of this System, in unfolding and strengthening the mental faculties, even in adults."

"The writer of the Report," it is added, "was not acquainted with the extent of their acquirements when Mr Gall commenced his operations; but judging from the examination, and from his knowledge of the contents of the books taught, he has no hesitation in averring, that the answers which they gave, arose entirely from information communicated by them. And when he reflects that their answers, being clothed in their own words, guaranteed the fact, that it was the ideas upon which they had seized, and that their knowledge participated in no degree of rote, the conviction to his mind is irresistible, that the universal application of the Lesson System to Prison Discipline, and to adults everywhere, would be followed by effects, incalculably precious to the individuals themselves, and to the improving of society in general."

Numerous other instances might be adduced in proof of the efficiency of this method of attempting to imitate Nature in this first part of her educational process, who will always be faithful in adhering to her own laws, and countenancing her own work. These however may suffice;—and it ought not to escape observation, that in two of the cases first alluded to, the young persons enjoyed only two hours' instruction in the week, and these not divided, but continuously given at one time. For this reason, it might have been feared, that the benefits then received would have been lost, or neutralized, by the variety of objects or amusements which must have intervened during the week between the lessons. But it was not so. And we may here remark, that if with all these disadvantages, so much good was really done in cultivating the powers of the mind by this exercise, what may we not expect by the enlightened, regular, and daily application of the same powerful principles in our ordinary schools, when the teacher shall know where the virtue of the weapon which he wields really lies, and when the nature of the material he is called to work upon is also better understood. Every exercise and every operation in the school will then be made to "tell;" and every moment of the pupils' attendance will be improved. In these circumstances, we are far within the limits of the truth when we say, that more real substantial education will then be communicated in one month, than it has been usual to receive by the labours of a whole year.

From what has been already ascertained, we are fully warranted in making the following remarks.

1. From the above facts we can readily ascertain the cause, why some exercises employed in education are so much relished by the young, and so efficient in giving strength and elasticity to the mind; while others, on the contrary are so inefficient, so irksome, and sometimes so intolerable. Every exercise that tends to produce active thought,—the "reiteration of ideas,"—is natural, and therefore, not only promotes healthful mental vigour, but is also exciting and delightful; while, on the contrary, whenever the mind is fettered by the mere decyphering of words, or the repeating of sounds, without reiterating ideas, the exercise is altogether unnatural, and must of course be irritating to the child, and barren of good.

2. By a due consideration of the above principles, we see the reason why mental arithmetic, though it may not communicate any knowledge, is yet productive of considerable mental vigour. These exercises compel the young to a species of voluntary thought, the reiteration in the mind of the powers of numbers; and although the result of the particular calculations which are then made, may never again be of any service to the pupil, yet the consequent exercise of mind is beneficial. It should never be forgotten, however, that this exercise of mind upon numbers is altogether an artificial operation, and is on this account, neither so efficient nor so pleasant as the reiteration of moral or physical truths. The same degree of mental exercise, brought into operation upon some useful fact, where the imagination as well as the understanding, can take a part, would at once be more natural, more efficient, more pleasant, and more useful.

3. From the nature and operation of the above principle, also, we can perceive in what the efficiency of Pestalozzi's "Exercises on Objects," consists.—When a child is required to tell you the colour and the consistence of milk, qualities which have all along been familiar to him, it conveys to him no knowledge; but it excites to observation and active thought,—to the "reiteration of ideas;"—and for this reason it is salutary. But it is still equally true, as in the former case, that the same degree of mental exercise, brought into operation upon some useful practical truth, would be at least equally useful as a mental stimulant, and much more beneficial as an educational exercise.

4. From the nature of this great fundamental principle in mental cultivation, as consisting in the reiteration of ideas, and not of words, we have a key by which we can satisfactorily explain the remarkable, and hitherto unaccountable fact, that many persons who, in youth and at school, have been ranked among the dullest scholars, have afterwards become the greatest men. An active mind, in exact proportion to its vigour, will powerfully struggle against the unnatural thraldom of mere mechanical verbal exercises. The mind in a healthful state will not be satisfied with words, which are but the medium of ideas, because ideas alone are the natural food of the mind. Till the powers of the mind, therefore, are sufficiently enfeebled by time and perseverance, it will struggle with its fetters, and it will be repressed only by coercion. Minds naturally weak, or gradually subdued, may and do submit to this artificial bondage,—this unnatural drudgery; but the vigorous and powerful mind, under favourable circumstances, spurns the trammels, and continues to struggle on. It may be a protracted warfare,—but it must at last come to a close; and it is not till the pupil has emerged from this mental dungeon, and has had these galling fetters fairly knocked off, that the natural elasticity and strength of his mind find themselves at freedom, with sufficient room and liberty to act. The impetus then received, and the delight in the mental independence then felt, have frequently led to the brightest results. Hence it is, that the reputed dunce of the school, has not unfrequently become the ornament of the senate.

Lastly, we would remark, that from the facts here enumerated, we derive a good test by which to try every new exercise proposed for training the young, and for cultivating the powers of the mind. If the exercise recommended compels the child to active thought,—to the voluntary exercise of his own mind upon useful ideas,—that exercise, whatever be its form, will, to that extent at least, be beneficial. And if, at the same time, it can be associated with the acquisition of knowledge, with the application of knowledge, or with the ready communication of knowledge,—all of which, as we have seen, are concomitants in Nature's process,—it will, in an equal degree, be valuable and worthy of adoption. But if, on the contrary, the exercise may be performed without the necessity of voluntary thought, or the reiteration of ideas by the mind, however plausible or imposing it may appear, it is next to certain, that although such an exercise may be sufficiently burdensome to the child, and cause much labour and anxiety to the teacher, it will most assuredly be at least useless, if not injurious.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] See the Fifth Public Experiment in Education, conducted before Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, and the clergy and teachers of Dumfries, in the month of October 1833.

[10] Note K.

[11] Note H.

[12] For the methods of employing this exercise and the books best adapted for it, see Note I.

CHAP. II.

On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in the Pupil's Acquisition of Knowledge; with a Review of the Analogy between the Mental and Physical Appetites of the Young.

The second step in the progress of Nature's pupil is the acquisition of knowledge.—This has always been considered a chief object in every system of education; and the discovery of the most efficient means by which it may be accomplished, must be a matter of great importance.

In our remarks upon this subject in a previous chapter, we have shewn, that Nature in her operations employs four distinct principles for accumulating knowledge, for retaining it upon the memory, and for keeping it in readiness for use at the command of the will. There are, First, the "reiteration of ideas" by the mind, without which there can be no knowledge; Secondly, the principle of "Individuation," by which the knowledge of objects and truths is acquired one by one; Thirdly, the principle of "Grouping," or Association, in which the mind views as one object, what is really composed of many; and, Fourthly, the principle of "Analysis," or Classification, in which the judgment is brought into exercise, the different portions of our knowledge are arranged and classified under different heads and branches, and the whole retained in order at the command of the will, when any portion of it is required.—Our object now is to consider, what means are within the reach of the parent and the teacher, by which Nature in these several processes may be successfully imitated, while they endeavour to communicate the elements of knowledge to the young.

Ideas being the only proper food of the mind, Nature has created in the young an extraordinary appetite and desire for their possession. There is a striking analogy in this respect, between the strengthening of the body by food, and the invigorating of the mind by knowledge; and before proceeding to detail the methods by which the parent or the teacher may successfully break down and prepare the bread of knowledge for their pupils in imitation of Nature, it will be of advantage here to consider more particularly some of the circumstances connected with this instructive analogy. By tracing the likeness so conspicuously held out to us in this analogy by Nature herself, we shall be greatly assisted in evading the bewildering and mystifying influence of prejudice, and the reader will be much better prepared to judge of the value of those means recommended for nourishing and strengthening the mind by knowledge, when he finds them to correspond so exactly with similar principles employed by Nature for the nourishing and strengthening of the body by food. We shall by this means, we hope, be able to detect some of those fallacies which have long tended to trammel the exertions, and to prevent the success of the teacher in his interesting labours.

The first point of analogy to which we would advert, is the vigour and activity of the mental appetite in the young, which corresponds so strikingly with the frequent and urgent craving of their bodily appetite for food.—The desire of food for the body, and the desire of knowledge for the mind, are alike restless and insatiable in childhood; and a similar amount of satisfaction and pleasure is the consequence, whenever these desires are prudently gratified. That the desire for knowledge in the young is often weakened, and sometimes destroyed, is but too true; but this is the work of man, not of Nature. It will accordingly be found on investigation, with but few exceptions, that wherever the general appetite of the child, either for mental or bodily food, becomes languid or weak, it is either the effect for disease or of some grievous abuse.

Another point of analogy consists, in the necessity of the personal active co-operation of the child himself in receiving and digesting his food.—There is no such thing in Nature as a child being fed and nourished by proxy. His food must be received, digested, and assimilated by his own powers, and by the use of his own organs, else he will never be fed. In the same way, the food for his mind can benefit him only in so far as he himself is the active agent. He must himself receive, reiterate in his own mind, and commit to the keeping of his memory, every idea presented to him by his teacher. No one can do this for him;—he must do it himself. In a family, the parent may provide, dress, and communicate the food to the child,—but he can do no more; and similar is the case with respect to the mental food provided by the teacher. He may no doubt select the most appropriate kinds,—he may simplify it,—he may break it down into morsels;—but his pupils, if they are to learn, must learn for themselves. When a pupil, to save himself trouble, tries to evade the learning of a preliminary lesson, or when the teacher winks at the evasion by performing the exercise for him, it is as absurd as for a parent to eat the child's food, and expect at the same time that his boy is to be nourished by it. If the mental food be too strong for the child, something more simple must be provided for him; but to continue to administer knowledge which the pupil does not comprehend, and force the strong mental food of an adult upon the tender capacities of a child, is an error of the most mischievous kind. It prevents the mind from acting at all, without which there can be no improvement. The mind must wield its own weapons if ignorance is to be dislodged; and if the child is to advance at all, he must overcome the difficulties that lie in his way by the exertion of his own powers. His teacher may no doubt direct him as to the best and the easiest way of accomplishing his object; but that is all. The pupil must in every case perform the exercise for himself.

This leads us to notice another point of analogy in this case, which is, the necessity of adapting the food to the age and capacities of those who are to receive it.—There is in the mental, as well as in the physical nourishment provided for our race, milk for the weak, as well as meat for the strong; and it is necessary in both cases that the kind and the quantity be carefully attended to. In the case of the strong, there is less danger; because, with regard both to the mental and bodily food, Nature has so ordered matters, that the food which is best adapted for the weak, will also nourish the strong; but the food adapted for the strong is never suitable, and is often poisonous to the weak. There must therefore be, in all cases where the young are concerned, as careful a selection of the mental food, as there is of the food for the body; and the parent or teacher should, in all cases, present only such subjects, and such ideas to his pupils, as the state of their faculties, or the progress of their knowledge, enables them to understand and apply.Another striking point of analogy between mental and bodily nourishment, is to be found in the effects of repletion, when too great a quantity of food is communicated at one time.—As the increase of a child's bodily strength does not depend upon the mere quantity of food forced into his stomach, but upon that portion only which is healthfully digested and assimilated; so in like manner, the amount of a child's knowledge will not correspond to the number of ideas forced upon his attention by the teacher, but to those only which have been reiterated by the mind, and committed by that process to the keeping of the memory. In both cases, the evil of repletion is two-fold; there is the waste of food and of labour, while the strength and the growth of the child, instead of being promoted, are retarded and diminished. The physical appetite gains strength, by moderate exercise; but it is palled and weakened by every instance of repletion. The desire for food is never for any length of time at rest, so long as the stomach is kept in proper tone by moderate and frequent feeding; and the quantity of food which a healthy child will in these circumstances consume, is often surprising. But whenever the stomach is gorged, then restlessness, uneasiness, and not unfrequently disease, are the consequences. The digestive powers are weakened, the tone of the stomach is relaxed, and, instead of the healthful craving for food which should occur at the proper interval, the appetite is destroyed, and food of every kind is nauseated.—Exactly similar is the case with the mental appetite. The natural curiosity of children, or, in other words, their desire of information, before it is checked or overloaded by mismanagement, is almost insatiable; and the astonishing amount of knowledge which they usually acquire between the ages of one and three years, while under the guidance of Nature, has been formerly alluded to. But this desire of information, and this capacity for receiving it, are by no means confined to that early period of their lives. The same appetite for knowledge would increase and acquire additional strength, were it but properly directed, or furnished with moderate and suitable means of gratification. But when a parent or teacher impatiently attempts to force it upon the child more rapidly than he can receive it,—that is, than he can reiterate it in his mind for himself,—he not only irritates and harasses the child, but his attempt neutralizes the effect of the ideas which the child would otherwise pleasantly and efficiently have received. Every such attempt to do more than enough greatly weakens the powers of the pupil's mind, and discourages him from any after attempt to increase his knowledge.

As a general maxim in the education of the young, it may here be observed, that as long as the understanding of a child remains clear, and he can distinctly perceive the truths which are communicated to him, he will find himself pleasantly and profitably employed, and will soon acquire a habit of distinct mental vision;—the powers of his mind will be rapidly expanded and strengthened, and he will receive and retain the knowledge communicated to him with ease and with pleasure. But when, on the contrary, he is overtasked, and more ideas are forced upon his attention than his capacity can receive, the mind becomes disturbed and confused, the mental perception becomes cloudy and indistinct, and all that is communicated in these circumstances is absolutely lost. If the parent or teacher insists on the pupil persevering in his mental meal, in the hope that things will get better, we can easily, from the present analogy, perceive the fallacy of such a hope. Perseverance will only create additional perplexity; the whole powers of the child's mind will become more and more enfeebled, or totally prostrated; the labour of the teacher will be lost; and he will find his pupil now, and for some time afterwards, much less able to take a clear and distinct view of any subject than he was before.

There is yet one other point of analogy between the supply of food for the body and the mind, to which we must also allude. It is to be found in the baneful, and often destructive, effects of unnatural stimulants applied to the mental appetite, which strikingly correspond in their effects to the pernicious habit of supplying stimulants to the young in their ordinary food.—Stimulants will no doubt, in both cases, produce for the time additional excitement;—but they are neither natural nor necessary. In all ordinary cases, Nature has made ample provision for the supposed want, of which the craving—the natural and healthy craving—of children for knowledge and for food, gives ample testimony. To counteract or to weaken this natural desire would be improper;—but artificially to increase it is always dangerous. The reason is obvious; for the excitement thus caused being unnatural, it is always temporary; but its pernicious effects very soon become extensive and permanent. Every physician knows, that the habitual use of stimulants in the food of the young, weakens the tone of the stomach, palls the appetite, creates a disrelish for plain and wholesome food, and frequently destroys the powers of digestion for ever after. Very similar are the effects of unnatural stimulants to the mental appetite in training and teaching the young, when these stimulants are habitually, or even frequently administered. Their curiosity,—their appetite for knowledge,—is naturally so vigorous, that the repetition, or the reading of any story, however commonplace or uninteresting to us, gives them the sincerest pleasure, provided only that they understand and can follow it. This is a most wise and beneficent provision of Nature, of which parents and teachers should be careful to take advantage. It is because of this disposition in children, that in all ordinary cases, the simplest narrative or anecdote in ordinary life, may be successfully employed in giving them mental strength, and in communicating permanent moral instruction. But whenever unnatural and injudicious excitements are used in their instruction, and the child's imagination has been stimulated and defiled by the ideas of giants and ogres, fairies and ghosts, the whole natural tone of the mind is destroyed, plain and even interesting stories and narratives lose their proper attraction, and a diseased and insatiable appetite for the marvellous and the horrible is generally created. Even to adults, and much more to children, whose minds have been thus abused, the plain paths of probability and truth have lost every charm; and the study of abstract but useful subjects becomes to them a nauseous task—an intolerable burden.

The accuracy of this analogy, we think, will readily be admitted by all. And if so, it will at least help to illustrate, if it does not prove, some of the important conclusions to which we shall find ourselves led upon other, and philosophical grounds. But as the prejudices which, during several centuries, have been gradually congregating around the science of education are so many and so powerful, every legitimate means, and this among others, should be combined for the purpose of removing them.

CHAP. III.

How Nature may be imitated in Communicating Knowledge to the Pupil, by the Reiteration of Ideas.

The phenomenon in mechanics and natural philosophy, which is popularly termed "Suction," may be exhibited in a thousand different ways, and yet all are the result of but one cause. When we witness the various phenomena of the air and common pump,—the barometer and the cupping glass,—the sipping of our tea, and the traversing of an insect on the mirror or the roof,—the operations appear so very dissimilar, that we are ready to attribute them to the action of a variety of agents. But it is not so;—for when we trace each of them back to its primitive cause, we find that each and all of these wonders are produced by the weight of the atmosphere, and that alone. In precisely the same manner, knowledge may apparently be communicated to the human mind in a thousand different ways; and yet, when we examine each, and trace it to its primitive cause, we find the phenomenon to be one—and one alone. The truth has been received and lodged with the memory,—made part of our knowledge—by the reiteration of its idea by the mind itself;—by an exercise of active, voluntary thought upon the knowledge thus communicated. The cause and the effect invariably follow each other both in old and young; for whenever a new idea is perceived and reiterated by the pupil,—if it should be but once,—the knowledge of the child is to that extent increased; but whenever this act of the mind is awanting, there can be no additional information received;—the increase of knowledge is found to be impossible. This appears to be a law of our Nature, to which we know of no exception.

It is also worthy of remark here, that the retention or permanence of the ideas thus committed to the keeping of the memory depends upon two circumstances. The first is, the vigour of the mental powers, or the intensity of the impression made upon them at the time of reiteration;—and the second, and certainly the principal circumstance, is the frequency of their reiteration by the mind. In evidence of the first we see, that a fall, a fright, or a narrow escape from imminent danger, although it occurred but once, and perhaps in early infancy, will be remembered through life; and in proof of the second, we find, that the scenes and circumstances of childhood being frequently and daily reiterated by the mind, at a time when it has little else to reiterate, remain permanently on the memory. The object therefore most to be desired by the teacher, is an exercise, or a series of exercises, by which, in his attempts to communicate knowledge to his pupil, this act of reiteration may be secured, and if possible repeated at pleasure, for more permanently fixing on the memory the knowledge communicated.

In a former chapter we shewed, that this act of reiteration is the instrument employed by Nature for cultivating the powers of the mind as well as for communicating and impressing knowledge;—and we have also shewn that Nature in that process was successfully imitated by means of the catechetical exercise. This exercise has accordingly been found as powerful and efficient in promoting this, her second object, as it is in the first. The success of the catechetical exercise in communicating knowledge clearly to the young, even when it is but imperfectly managed, has been extensive and uniform; but wherever its nature has been properly understood, and it has been scientifically conducted, the amount of knowledge communicated in a given time, and with a given amount of mental and physical labour, stands confessedly without a parallel in the previous history of education. Minds the most obtuse, habits of listlessness the most inveterate, and mental imbecility, bordering on idiotcy, have been powerfully assailed and overcome; and knowledge, by means of this exercise, has forced its way, and firmly secured a place for itself, in minds which previously were little more than a blank.

The causes of its success in cultivating the powers of the mind were formerly explained; but its adaptation to the communicating of knowledge is still more peculiarly striking. We shall endeavour to point out a few of these peculiarities.

Let us for that purpose suppose a teacher desirous of communicating to a child the important fact, that "God at first made all things of nothing to shew his greatness;" it must be done, either by the child reading or hearing the sentence. If it be read, there is at least a chance, that the words may be all decyphered, and audibly pronounced, while the ideas contained in them have not yet reached the mind. The child may have carefully examined each word as it occurred, and may have reiterated each of them on his mind as he read them, and yet there may not be the slightest addition to his knowledge. The reiteration of words, as we have before explained, is not that which Nature requires, but the reiteration of ideas; and although we may, by substituting the one for the other, deceive ourselves, Nature will not be deceived; for unless the ideas contained in the sentence be reiterated by the mind, there can be no additional information conveyed.—The same thing may happen, if the words, instead of being read by the child, are announced by the teacher. The pupil may in that case hear the sounds; nay, he may repeat the words, and thus reiterate them in his mind after the teacher; but if he has not translated the words into their proper ideas as he proceeded, experience proves, that his knowledge remains as limited as before;—there has been no additional information. These cases are so common, and so uniform, that no farther illustration we think needs be given of them.

The desideratum in both these cases is, some exercise by which the child shall be compelled to translate the words into their several ideas; and by reiterating the ideas themselves, not the words which convey them, he shall be enabled at once to commit them to the keeping of the memory, and thus make them part of his knowledge. The catechetical exercise supplies this want. For if, in either case, after the words have been read or repeated, the child is asked, "What did God make?" the translation of the words into the ideas, if previously neglected, is now forced upon him, because without this it is impossible for him to prepare the answer. The ideas must be drawn from the words, and reiterated by the mind, independently of the words, before the exercise can be completed. And not only must the particular idea which answers the question be extracted, but the whole of the ideas contained in the sentence must be reiterated by the mind, before the selection can be begun, and the choice made. It is also specially worthy of remark, that even in such a case as this, where, on the sentence being read or heard, the words alone were at first perceived, yet no sooner does the mind proceed to its legitimate object, the reiteration of the ideas which the words convey, than the words themselves are instantly lost sight of, and in one sense are never again thought of. As soon as the kernel is extracted, the shell has lost its value. The pupil having once got sight of the ideas, tenaciously keeps hold of them, and never once thinks again of the words, which were merely the instrument employed by Nature to convey them. When the question is asked, and he answers it, the process consists in his translating the words of the whole sentence into their several ideas, chusing out the idea which answers the question from all the others, and then in clothing that idea in words which are now entirely his own.

In all this there is a long and intricate series of mental exercises, in every one of which the mind is actively employed, and it is in this, as before explained, that the value of this exercise, in cultivating the powers of the mind, really consists. But our present business is with the acquisition of knowledge by its means; and we have to observe, that in each of the mental operations required for the answer of a single question, the ideas contained in the original sentence have repeatedly to undergo the process of reiteration; by which they are more clearly perceived, and more permanently fixed on the memory, than they otherwise could have been. Hence the value of this exercise, even in those cases where the original sentence has been at the first fully understood. This will appear obvious by tracing the mental operation of the pupil from the beginning, when he has to answer the question.

There is first the understanding of the question asked at him. This must be heard and reiterated by the mind before its purport can be perceived, and all this before he can commence the proper mental operation upon the original sentence from which his answer is to be selected. He has then to review the words of the original sentence, still sounding in his ears, and to translate them into their several ideas, before he can begin to select the one required. Then comes the act of selection, having to chuse out from among all the others the special idea required as his answer; and lastly, there is the clothing of that idea in words suitable for the occasion, and the audibly pronouncing of these words as the answer required. The rapidity with which the mind passes from one part of this exercise to another, may prevent these several operations from being perceived, but it is not the less true that they must have taken place. And hence arises the value of the catechetical exercise, not only in cultivating in an extraordinary degree the mental faculties of the pupil, but in powerfully forcing information upon the mind, and permanently fixing it upon the memory for after use.

But even this does not exhaust the catalogue of benefits to be derived from the use of the catechetical exercise in communicating knowledge to the young. We have supposed only one question to have been asked by the teacher upon the original sentence, and yet we have seen that this one question has in fact in a great measure secured the understanding of the whole of the ideas contained in it. But instead of one question, the catechetical exercise has the power of originating many, each producing successively similar results, but with greater ease to the child, and with much more effect in rivetting the several ideas upon the memory. The first question, when properly put, gives the pupil the command of the whole proposition; but it requires considerable mental effort in the child to recall the words, and internally to translate the ideas for the first time. But when this has once been done, and a second question is asked from the same sentence, the ideas being now more familiar, there is less mental labour required in preparing the answer, and there being equal success, there is of course more satisfaction. The ideas become much more clear and distinct before the mind by a second review; and the effect, in fixing the whole upon the memory, is much more powerful than it could be by means of the first. When therefore the teacher confines himself to the original sentence, and does not indulge in catechetical wanderings, the questions, "When did God make all things?" "How many things did God make?" "Of what did God make all things?" and, "Why did God make all things?" produce extensive and powerful effects. The pupil finds himself able to master each question in succession without difficulty, and the answering of each appears to him a triumph. Whoever has been in the habit of making use of this exercise in the manner explained above, must have witnessed with pleasure the life, and energy, and delight, which it invariably infuses into the scholar, giving education a perfectly different aspect from what it usually assumes in the eyes of the young, and making it even in the estimation of the pupil a formidable rival to his play. In this manner has Nature set her seal upon this exercise, as a near approximation to her own process for attaining the two preparatory objects she has in view in the education of the young; that of cultivating the powers of the mind, and that of communicating to her pupils the elements of knowledge.

This exercise has been reduced to a regular system, which has placed it more directly at the command of all who undertake the instruction of the young. By a little attention on the part of parents and teachers, to a few simple rules, they may catechise upon any book, and apply the exercise to any species of knowledge whatever. We shall endeavour to explain the nature and uses of these rules.

For the purposes of this exercise, the school books of the pupil are supposed to consist of sentences, each of the principal words in which conveys some specific idea;—these again are combined into clauses, which also convey an idea;—and the combination of these clauses in a sentence, or paragraph, usually forms a complete truth. For example, the sentence, "God at first [made all things] of nothing [to shew his greatness,"] contains one great truth; but the sentence which conveys it, embodies at least two clauses, inclosed in brackets, while the whole is made up of words, each of which is the sign of an idea which may readily be separated from all the others. Now it is evident, that questions may be formed by the teacher relative to each of these three parts. He may ask a question, which shall require the whole truth for the answer; or one which will be answered by a clause; or another which is answered by a word.

In "revising," accordingly, where time is an object, the teacher confines himself to those general questions which bring out the whole truth at once, as is exemplified in the Larger and Shorter Catechisms. This is called the "Connecting Exercise," because it is employed in uniting sections together, which have previously been taught to the pupils separately, but which are necessary to be perceived also in connection. This, however, would be too limited an exercise for the purpose of directing the mind to the several parts of a truth for the first time; and therefore the teacher in those cases forms his questions chiefly upon the clauses in the sentence, and the other words which have some material relation to them, and this is called the "General Exercise." But even this is not enough, where the child is dull, or where healthful mental exercise is required; and accordingly in that case, the teacher not only questions upon the clauses in connection with the other principal words, but he takes the words, of which the clauses are composed, and catechises the child upon them also. This is called the "Verbal Exercise," which has been found of great value in the teacher's intercourse with his younger classes. Upon these principles the Initiatory Catechisms and their Keys have been formed, together with the several Helps for communicating Scriptural knowledge. The success of these school books, although labouring under all the disadvantages of new instruments, imperfectly formed to work out new principles, is mainly to be attributed to the close imitation of Nature aimed at in all their exercises.

The rule for the parent or teacher in mastering these exercises is the same in all; it consists simply in forming the question in such a manner, as that the word, the clause, or the whole proposition, shall be required to make the answer. Sufficient explanation and examples of all this will be found in the Note.[13]

The uniform results of many experiments, have established the importance of this exercise as an instrument in communicating knowledge to the ignorant, whether young or old. We shall shortly advert to a few of the circumstances connected with these experiments, for the purpose of satisfactorily establishing this.

In an experiment made in May 1828, under the direction of the Very Rev. Dr Baird, Principal of the University of Edinburgh, before the Lord Provost, and several of the Professors and Clergymen of that city, nine adult criminals, "taken without regard to their abilities," and who, in the opinion of Governor Rose, "formed a fair average of the usual prisoners," were, in the space of three successive weeks, exercised in whole for eighteen or twenty hours. They were at the end of that time minutely examined in the Chapel of the County Jail, in the presence of the Right Honourable and Reverend Professors and Gentlemen, who formed Principal Baird's committee; and their Report of the experiment and its effects bears, that "the result of this important experiment was, in every point, satisfactory. Not only had much religious knowledge been acquired by the pupils, and that of the most substantial, and certainly the least evanescent kind; but it appeared to have been acquired with ease, and even with satisfaction—a circumstance of material importance in every case, but especially in that of adult prisoners." "The examination evidently brought out only a specimen of their knowledge, and did by no means comprise all that had been acquired by them; but, even though it had constituted the whole amount of their information, the fact that such a treasure had been amassed in three weeks is in itself astonishing. The writer of this Minute was not acquainted with the extent of their acquirements when Mr Gall commenced his operations; but judging from the examination, and from his knowledge of the contents of the books taught, he has no hesitation in averring, that the answers which they gave, arose entirely from information communicated by them. And when he reflects that their answers, being clothed in their own words, guaranteed the fact, that it was the ideas upon which they had seized, and that their knowledge participated in no degree of rote, the conviction to his mind is irresistible, that the universal application of the Lesson System to Prison Discipline, and to adults every where, would be followed by effects incalculably precious to the individuals themselves, and to the improving of society in general."

The efficiency of this exercise in communicating knowledge, was equally conspicuous in another experiment, conducted under the eye of the Principal, Professors, and Clergymen of Aberdeen, in July 1828. The persons on whom this experiment was made, were children taken from the lower classes of society, carefully selected on two several days, by a committee of clergymen appointed for the purpose, from the various schools in the city. These children were all carefully and individually examined in private by the committee, and were chosen from among their companions, not on account of their natural abilities, or educational acquirements, but specially and simply on account of their ignorance. The precautions taken by the Rev. and learned examinators, to secure accuracy in their ultimate decision, were at once judicious and complete; and were intended to enable them to say with confidence at the close of the experiment, that the results, whatever they might be, were really the effects of the exercise and discipline to which the children during it had been subjected, and were in no respect due to the previous capacity or the attainments of the children.

To secure this important preliminary object, therefore, the sub-committee of clergymen above alluded to was appointed, as soon as the experiment was determined upon, with instructions to collect a class of the most ignorant children they could find, attending the several schools, and who it was thought would be, of course, most incapacitated for receiving instruction. This sub-committee, consisting of the Rev. John Murray, the Rev. Abercromby L. Gordon, and the Rev. David Simpson, in their previous Report, say, "We, on two several days, met with the children which were collected from the various schools, and examined them individually, and apart from each other; avoiding every appearance of formality, and endeavouring to draw them into familiar conversation, that we might correctly ascertain the state of their religious knowledge on the three following points, which we considered to be the best criterion by which to judge of their understanding of the other less important points in the gospel scheme of salvation.—These points were, 1. Our connection, as sinners, with Adam; 2. Our connection with Christ as the Saviour; 3. The means by which we become interested in the salvation of Christ. On minutely examining each child on these points, one by one, and endeavouring, by varied and familiar language and cross-questioning, without confusing their ideas, to ascertain the knowledge which they possessed on these first principles, we accurately, and at the time, minuted the result, distinguishing those points which they understood, and those which they did not. From this list we afterwards selected twenty-two names, of children who appeared from the list, to be the most ignorant, by not having any marks of approval on any one of these points on which they were examined;—although delicacy to the children, as well as to their parents and teachers, prevented us from stating to them, that this was the principle by which we had been regulated in our selection. From these twenty-two children, Mr Gall has made up his class of ten, for this experiment, which he proposes shall continue for eight days, occupying two hours each day; and having thus chosen that class of pupils which appeared to us the most ignorant, we have, in justice to Mr Gall and this system of teaching, stated the fact, leaving the examinators to make what allowance they may on this account think proper, in determining on the failure or success of this very important and interesting experiment."

This was the state of the children's knowledge and capacity when the experiment began; and the following was found to be the state of these same children's knowledge when examined publicly in the East Church, before the Very Rev. Principal, Professors, and Clergymen of the city, and a large congregation of the citizens, eight days afterwards.

The children were first interrogated minutely on the doctrines of the gospel, which had been previously arranged in a list under sixteen different heads, embodying all the leading doctrinal points in the Confession of Faith and Shorter Catechism, a copy of which was handed to the Very Rev. Principal Jack, who presided. The Report of the Experiment, prepared by their Committee, goes on to say, that "After being examined generally and satisfactorily on each of these heads, the chairman, by means of a list of the names with which he was furnished, called up some of them individually, who were carefully examined, and shewed, by their answers, that they severally understood the nature of the above doctrines, and their mutual relation to each other.

"They were then examined on the Old Testament History, from the account of the death of Moses, downwards, to that of the revolt of the Ten Tribes in the reign of Rehoboam. Here they distinctly stated and described all the leading circumstances of the narrative comprised in the 'First Step,' whose brief but comprehensive outline they appeared, in various instances, to have filled up at home, by reading in their Bibles the corresponding chapters. They were next examined in the same way, on several sections of the New Testament," with which they had also acquired an extensive practical knowledge, besides some useful information in Civil History, Biography, and Natural Philosophy, on all which they were closely and extensively examined.

In another experiment, undertaken at the request, and under the sanction, of the Sunday School Union of London, the efficiency of this exercise, as a successful imitation of Nature in communicating knowledge, was also satisfactorily ascertained. We shall at present advert only to one feature of it, as being more immediately connected with the present branch of our subject, that of communicating knowledge to the most ignorant and depraved.The Report of this Experiment, drawn up by the Secretaries of that Institution, records, that "it had been requested, that, if possible, children should be procured, somewhat resembling the heathen, (or persons in a savage state,) whose intellectual and moral attainments were bounded only by their knowledge of natural objects, and whose feelings and obligations were of course regulated principally by coercion and fear of punishment."

Two gentlemen of the Committee, accordingly, undertook the search, and at last procured from the streets three children, a boy and two girls of the ages, so far as could be ascertained, (for they themselves could not tell,) of seven, nine, and eleven years, whom we shall designate G, H, and I. These children had no knowledge of letters; knew no more than the name of God, and that he was in the skies, but could not tell any thing about him, or what he had done. They knew not who made the sun, nor the world, nor themselves. They had no idea of a soul, or that they should live after death. One had a confused idea of the name of Jesus, as connected with prayers; which, however, she did not understand, but had never heard of Adam, Noah, or Abraham. When asked if they knew any thing of Moses, one on them (viz. I,) instantly recollected the name; but when examined, it was found that she only referred to a cant term usually bestowed upon the old-clothesmen of London. They had no idea of a Saviour; knew nothing of heaven or hell; had never heard of Christ, and knew not whether the name belonged to a man or a woman. The boy, (H,) when strictly interrogated on this point, and asked, whether he indeed knew nothing at all of Jesus Christ, thinking his veracity called in question, replied with much earnestness, and in a manner that showed the rude state of his mind, "No; upon my soul, I do not!"

This class, after eleven days' teaching, conducted in public, and in the presence of numbers of teachers, during one hour daily, were publicly examined in the Poultry Chapel, by a number of clergymen, before the Committee of the Sunday School Union, and a numerous congregation. The Report goes on to say, that the children of this class "were examined, minutely and individually, on the great leading doctrines of Christianity. The enumeration and illustrations of the several doctrines were given with a simplicity, and in a language, peculiarly their own; which clearly proved the value of that part of the Lesson System which enjoins the dealing with the ideas, rather than with the words; and which shewed, that they had acquired a clear knowledge of the several truths. They were also examined on some parts of the Old Testament History," with which, during that short period, they had been made thoroughly acquainted.

These facts of themselves, and they could be enlarged to almost any extent, clearly prove the power and the value of this exercise in communicating knowledge to the young. And, as we have seen that its efficiency consists entirely in its close imitation of the process of Nature in accomplishing the same object, we are the better warranted to press upon the minds of all who are interested in education and the art of teaching, the importance of keeping strictly to Nature, so far as we can trace her operations; as it is by doing so alone that we are sure of success. It may no doubt be said, that there are other ways of communicating knowledge to the young, besides the catechetical exercise; and therefore the necessity of adopting it is neither so necessary nor so urgent. To this it may be answered, that there have been other plans adopted, in urgent cases, for the nourishment of the body, besides the common mode of eating and digesting food; but all such plans are unnatural, and are of course but momentary and inadequate;—this, therefore, would form no argument for depriving children of their food. But even this argument is not parallel; for, although it has been found that partial nourishment may be conveyed to the blood otherwise than by the stomach, it has not yet been ascertained that any idea can enter the mind, except by this act of "reiteration." Unless, therefore, something definite can be brought forward, which will secure the performance of this act, different from the catechetical exercise, or the several modifications of it, that exercise ought to be considered as a necessary agent in every attempt of the teacher to communicate knowledge.

But this admission in a philosophical question is much more than is at all necessary for our present purpose. It is in every view of the case sufficient to shew, that knowledge cannot be imparted without voluntary active thought upon the ideas communicated, or what we have termed, "reiteration;"—and if this be once admitted, and if it can be shewn that the catechetical exercise produces this result more certainly, and more powerfully, than any other mode of instruction yet known, then nothing but prejudice will lead to the neglect of this, or will give the preference to another. And it is a remarkable fact, that on investigation it will be found, that almost every useful exercise introduced into schools within the last thirty years, owes its efficiency to the presence, more or less, of the principles which we have been explaining, as embodied in the catechetical exercise.[14]

FOOTNOTES:

[13] Note L.

CHAP. IV.

On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Exercising the
Principle of Individuation.

While it appears to be a law of Nature, that there can be no accumulation of knowledge without the act of reiteration, yet there are other principles which she brings into operation in connection with it, by which the amount of the various branches of knowledge received is greatly increased, and the knowledge itself more easily comprehended, and more permanently retained upon the memory.

The first of these principles, which we have before alluded to and described, is that of "individuation;" that principle by which an infant or child is induced to concentrate the powers of its mind upon a new object, and that to the exclusion for the time of every other, till it has become acquainted with it.

In a former chapter we found, that as long as a child remains solely under the guidance of Nature, it will not allow its attention to be distracted by different unknown objects at the same time; but whenever it selects one for examination, it invariably for the time abandons the consideration of every other. The consequence of this is, that infants, with all their physical and mental imbecility, acquire more real knowledge under the tuition of Nature in one year, than children who are double their age usually gain by the imperfect and unnatural exercises of unreformed schools in three or four. The cause of this is easily detected, and may be illustrated by the analogy of any one of the senses. The eye, for example, like the mind, must not only see the object, but it must look upon it—examine it—before the child can either become acquainted with it at the time, or remember it afterwards. But if unknown objects are made rapidly to flit past the eye of the child, so that this cannot be done before there is time to fix the attention upon any of them, the labour of the exhibitor is not only lost, but the sight of the child is impaired;—the eye itself is injured, and is less able, for some time afterwards, to look steadily upon any other object, even when that object is stationary. Such is the injury and the confusion created in the mind of a child when it is hurried forward from object to object, or from truth to truth, before the mind has had leisure to lay hold of them, or to concentrate its powers upon the ideas they suggest. The labour of the teacher in that case is not only lost, and the child harassed and irritated, but the powers of the mind, instead of being brightened and strengthened, are bewildered and mystified, and must therefore be weakened in a corresponding degree.

The method to be adopted therefore for the imitation of Nature in the working of this principle, will consist in bringing forward, for the consideration of the child, every new letter, or word, or truth, or object, by itself. When presented separately and alone, there is no distraction of mind—no confusion of ideas; the child is allowed to consider it well before learning it, so that he will know something of its form or its nature, and will remember it again when it is either presented to his notice alone, or when it is grouped with others. His idea of the object or truth may be indistinct and faint at first, but it is correct so far as it goes; and the ideas which he retains concerning it, are obviously much more extensive, than if the mind at its first presentation had been disturbed or bewildered by the addition of something else.

His idea of the object or the truth, after being repeatedly considered, may still be very inadequate, but it will now be distinct; and it is the want of this precision in the pupil's mind that so frequently deceives teachers, and confuses and obstructs the future advance of the scholars. When a child hears, or reads a passage, the teacher, who understands it himself, too often takes it for granted that the child as he proceeds is reiterating the ideas as well as himself, and is of course master of the subject. But this is not always the case; and wherever the child has not succeeded in doing so, all that follows in that lesson is usually to the child the cause of confusion and difficulty. He finds himself at a stand; and however far he may in these circumstances be dragged forward, he has not advanced a step, and he must at some future period,—and the sooner the better,—return again to the same point, and proceed anew under serious disadvantages.

In almost every stage of a child's education, the neglect of this principle is seriously and painfully felt. It is the cause of acute mental suffering to well affected and zealous pupils; and it is the chief origin of all the heartlessness, and idleness, and apathy, which are found to pervade and regulate the conduct of those that are less active. A careful appliance of this principle of individuation, therefore, is always of importance in education; but it ought never to be forgotten, that it is more peculiarly valuable and necessary at the commencement, than at any other period of a child's progress in learning. We shall advert to a few of the methods by which it may be applied in ordinary school education, in contrast with some instances in which it is neglected.

In teaching the alphabet to children, the principle of individuation is indispensable; and its neglect has been productive of serious and permanent mischief. A child of good capacity, by a proper attention to this principle, will, with pleasure and ease, learn the names and forms of the letters, with the labour of only a few hours;[15] while, by neglecting the principle, the same child would, after years of irritation and weariness, be still found ignorant of its alphabet. The overlooking of the principle at this period has done an immense deal of injury to the cause of education. It has, at the very starting post in the race of improvement, quenched and destroyed all the real, as well as the imaginary delights of learning and knowledge. It has given the tyro such an erroneous but overwhelming impression of the difficulties and miseries which he must endure in his future advance, that the disgust then created has often so interwoven itself with his every feeling, that education has during life appeared to him the natural and necessary enemy to every kind of enjoyment.

It used to be common, and the practice may still we believe be found lingering among some of the lovers of antiquity, to make a child commence at the letter A, and proceed along the alphabet without stopping till he arrived at Z; and this lesson not unfrequently included both the alphabets of capitals and small letters. Now the cruelty of such an exercise with a child will at once be apparent, if we shall only change its form. If a teacher were to read over to an infant twice a-day a whole page or paragraph without stopping of CÆsar or Cicero in Latin, and demand that on hearing it he shall learn it, we could at once judge of the difficulty, and the feelings of a volatile mind chained to the constant and daily repetition of such a task; and if this exercise were termed its "education," we can easily conceive the amount of affection that the child would learn to cherish towards it. Now this is really no exaggerated illustration of the matter in hand, for in both cases the principle of individuation, so carefully guarded and enforced by Nature, is equally outraged; and it is only where, by some means or other, a remedy for the evil accidentally occurs, that the result in the case of the alphabet, is not exactly the same as it would have been in the case of the classics above supposed. The writer once saw in a Sunday school, where the children were taught twice each Sabbath, a class in which some of the children had attended for upwards of two years, and were still in their alphabet; and if the same mode had been pursued, there is little doubt that they would have been in it yet.

The remedy for this evil is obvious. Instead of confounding the eye and the mind of the child, by rapidly parading twenty-six, or fifty-four forms, continuously and without intermission before the pupil, the letters ought to be presented to the child singly, or at most by two at a time; and these two should be rendered familiar, both in name and in form, before another character is introduced. When a few of the more conspicuous letters have become familiar, another is to be brought forward, and the child may be made to amuse himself, by picking out from a page of a book, all the letters he has learned, naming them, and if necessary describing them to a companion or a sub-monitor as they occur. Or he may be set down by himself, with a waste leaf from an old book, or pamphlet, or newspaper, to prick with a pin the new letter or letters last taught him; or, as an introduction to his writing, he may be made to score them gently with ink from a fine tipped pen. In these exercises, and all others which are in their nature similar, the principle of individuation is acknowledged and acted upon; and therefore it is, that a child will, by their means, acquire an acquaintance with the letters in an exceedingly short time, and, which is of still greater importance, without irritation or trouble. These methods may sometimes be rendered yet more effective, by the teacher applying the catechetical exercise to this comparatively dry and rather forbidding part of a child's education. It proceeds upon the principle of describing each letter, and attaching its name to the description, such as "round o," "spectacle g," "top dotted i," &c. as in the "Classified Alphabet." The teacher has thus an opportunity of exercising the child's imagination, as well as its memory, and making a monotonous, and comparatively unintellectual exercise, one of considerable variety and amusement.

In teaching the alphabet to adults, whose minds are capable of appreciating and applying the principle of analysis, the "Classified Alphabet" should invariably be used. By this means their memory, in endeavouring to recall the form and name of any particular letter, instead of having to search through the whole twenty-six, has never to think of more than the four or five which compose its class,—a circumstance which makes the alphabet much more easily acquired by the adult than by a child. But even here, the principle of individuation must not be lost sight of; each letter in the class must be separately learned, and each class must be familiar, before another is taught.

The principle of individuation continues to be equally necessary in teaching children to combine the letters in the formation of words; and when it is attended to, and when the only real use of letters, as the mere symbols of sound, is understood by the pupil, a smart child may be taught to read in a few minutes. This is not a theory, but a fact,—evidenced in the experience of many, and in the presence of thousands. Nor is it necessary that the words which are taught, should consist only of two or three letters; if the word be familiar to the child in speech, it becomes instantly known, when divided and taught in parts or syllables; and when once it is learned by the sounds of the letters, though these sounds merely approximate to the pronunciation of the word, it is sufficient to give a hint of what the word is, and when once it is known, it will not likely be again forgotten. By this means, the child is never puzzled except by entirely new words; and by knowing the use of the letters in their sounds, he receives a key by which at least to guess at them, which the sense of the subject greatly assists; so that one day, or even one hour, is sometimes, and we have no doubt will soon be generally, sufficient to overcome the hitherto forbidding and harassing drudgery of learning to read.

In teaching children their first lessons, it is of great importance that the main design of reading should be clearly understood, and attended to. As writing, philosophically considered, is nothing more than an artificial substitute for speaking, so reading is nothing more than an artificial substitute for hearing, and is subject to all the laws which regulate that act. Now one of the chief laws impressed by Nature on the act of hearing the speech of others, is the very remarkable one formerly alluded to, namely, the exclusive occupation of the mind with the ideas communicated, to the entire exclusion of the words, which are merely the means by which the ideas are conveyed. The words are no doubt heard, but they are never thought of;—for if they were, the mind would instantly become distracted, and the ideas would be lost. This law equally applies to the act of reading; and every one feels, that perfection in this art is never attained, till the mind is exclusively occupied with the ideas in the book, and never in any case with the words which convey them. But in learning to read, the difficulty of decyphering the words, tends to interfere with this law, and this must be guarded against. The remedy simply is, to allow the child time to overcome this first difficulty, by repeatedly, if necessary, reading the sentence till he can read it perfectly; and then, before leaving it, to discipline the mind to the perception of the ideas it contains, now that the child can read it well.

The catechetical exercise, as in the "First Class Book on the Lesson System," will almost always accomplish the object here pointed out; and the value of the exercise it recommends will be best understood and appreciated, by observing the evils which invariably follow its neglect. For if the child be allowed to read on and on, while the difficulty of decyphering the words in the book remains, the ideas will be left behind, the attention will be fatigued, and at last exhausted. The child will continue to read without understanding; and the habit thus acquired of reading the words, without perceiving the ideas at all, will soon be established and confirmed. Custom has robbed this relict of a former age of much of its repulsiveness; but it is not the less hurtful on that account. Were we to run a parallel with it in any other matter, its true nature and deformity would at once appear. For example, were we to suppose ourselves listening to an imperative message from a superior, by a messenger with whose language we were but partially acquainted, we would not allow him to proceed with his communication from beginning to end, while the very first sentence he uttered, had not been understood, and the mind was unprepared for that which was to follow. We would stop him at the close of the very first sentence, and would master the meaning of that, before we would advance with him another step; and then we would make him proceed at such a pace as we could keep up with him. If he left us again behind, there would be but one remedy. He must return and repeat the sentence where he left us, till we had comprehended his master's meaning; and if he refused to do this, he could not conscientiously say to him on his return, that he had delivered his message. By following this plan, and adopting this branch of the natural principle of individuation in such a case, two benefits would arise. We would first become perfectly acquainted with the will and message of our superior; and next, we would, at the close of the exercise, be so much more familiar with the language in which it was delivered, as that it would require less effort on a future occasion, to comprehend the meaning of the same speaker. If this method had not been adopted, and the message had been given entire and without a pause, it might have been rehearsed in our hearing a hundred times, but the meaning would neither have been mastered, nor would our knowledge of the language have been in the least improved.

The application of this principle of individuation in the early stages of a child's learning to read, suggests the propriety also of making some preparation for his reading every new lesson in succession. We have seen that it is chiefly the new words in a lesson that create difficulty, and prevent the operation of that important law in Nature which induces the mind at once to lay hold of the ideas. To obviate this distraction of mind therefore beforehand, the new words which are to occur in the lesson should be selected, and made familiar to the child previously, and by themselves;—he should be taught to read them easily by the combination of their letters, and clearly to understand their meaning, in precisely the same shade in which they are used in the lesson he is to read. When this is done, the lesson will be read with ease and with profit;—while, without this, the difficulty will be much greater, if not beyond his powers. In accordance with this plan, the "First Class Book," before referred to, has been constructed, and its efficiency on that account is greatly increased.

The neglect of this special application of the principle has been long and painfully felt in society, and most of all where the young have been sent earliest to school. The habit of reading the words without understanding the meaning of what they read, having once been acquired, the weak powers of children are not sufficient to overcome the difficulties with which this habit has surrounded them. They feel themselves burdened and harassed with unnatural and unmeaning exercises for years, before they can acquire the art of reading the words of the simplest school book; and, what is still worse, after they have left the school, and have entered upon the busy scenes of life, they find, that they have now to teach themselves an entirely new art,—the art of understanding by reading. Instead of all this waste of energy, and patience, and time, experience has fully proved, that by following the plain and easy dictates of Nature, as above explained, all the drudgery of learning to read may be got over in a week,—it has been times without number accomplished in a single day,[16]—and this without any harassing exertion, and generally with delight. Of the truth of this, a few out of many instances may here be enumerated.

In the summer of 1831, the writer one morning found himself, by mere accident, and a perfect stranger, in a Sunday school in the borough of Southwark, London. He attached himself first to a class of children, some of whom he found on enquiry had been two years at the school, and were yet only learning the alphabet. In the same school, and on the same morning, a young man who only knew his letters, but had never yet attempted to put them together, was classified with the infants, whom he had willingly joined in his anxiety to learn. He had a lesson by himself. By a rigid adherence to the above principle of individuation, this young man, to his own great astonishment, was able in a few minutes to read a verse. The lesson went on, and in somewhat less than half an hour he had mastered several verses, and now knew perfectly how to make use of the letters in decyphering the several words. By that one lesson he found himself quite able to teach himself. In proof of this, as was afterwards ascertained, he read that same day on going home, without help, nineteen verses of the same chapter; and these verses, on returning to school on the same afternoon, he read correctly and without hesitation, to his usual and astonished teacher. There can be no doubt, from this circumstance, that if it had been at all necessary, he could, without further aid, and with still greater ease, have read a second nineteen verses, and perfected himself by practice in this important, and supposed difficult art of reading, by this one lesson of less than half an hour.

In a later experiment, made in Dumfries, in the presence and under the sanction of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, and the clergymen and teachers of that town, the power of this principle was put to a severe trial, in a very unexpected and extraordinary manner. The week-day teachers of that town having heard of some of the above circumstances, and of the powers of the Lesson System generally, in enabling children to read with but little trouble, were desirous of having its powers tested in that town, where the writer happened to be for a few days. He agreed; and Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, the Sheriff of the county, with the clergymen and teachers, at his request, formed themselves into a committee for the purposes of the investigation. A sub-committee of the week-day teachers were appointed to procure a boy to be taught, which they did, and who, on being closely examined at a preliminary public meeting of the whole examinators, was found totally ignorant of words, and knew not one letter from another, with the exception, of "the round o."

With this boy the writer retired, having agreed to call them again together at a public meeting, as soon as he was ready. This at the time he did not doubt would have been on the very next day;—but he was disappointed. He had not been five minutes with his pupil, till he found, to his great mortification, that he had little or no intellect to work upon. The boy was twelve years of age, and yet he was perfectly ignorant of all the days of the week, except one, the market day, on which he was in the practice of making a few pence by holding the farmers' horses. He could in no case tell what day of the week went before or followed another. He could count numbers forward mechanically till among the teens; but by no effort of mind could he tell what number came before nine, till he had again counted forward from one. The most obvious deduction from the simplest idea appeared to be quite beyond the grasp of his mind. For example, though repeatedly told that John was Zebedee's son, yet, after frequent trials, he could never make out, nor comprehend who was John's father. Yet this boy,—one certainly among the lowest in the grade of intellect of our species,—by a rigid application of the principle of individuation, was enabled to overcome a great part of the drudgery of learning to read, by exactly eight hours' teaching. This boy, who at the preliminary meeting on Wednesday, knew only "the round o," read correctly in the Court-House on the following Monday, a section of the New Testament, to the Rev. Dr Duncan, minister of Ruthwell, before the Sheriff, clergymen, teachers, and a large assembly of the inhabitants of Dumfries. To ascertain that he had in that time really learned to read, and that he did not repeat the words of the section by rote, he was made to read before the audience, in a chapter of the Old Testament, and then from a newspaper, the same words that he had read in his lesson. This he did readily, and without a mistake.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] For some practical information and directions connected with the subjects in this chapter, see Note M.

[15] Note N.

[16] Note H.

CHAP. V.

On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Applying the
Principle of Grouping, or Association.

The principle of Grouping, or Association, as employed by Nature in her educational process, is obviously intended to enable the pupil easily to receive knowledge, and to assist the memory in retaining and keeping it ever after at the command of the will. It is employed to unite many objects or truths into one aggregate mass, which is received as one,—having the component parts so linked, or associated together, that when any one part is afterwards brought before the mind, it has the power of immediately conjuring up, and holding in review, all the others. For example, when a child enters a room in which its parents and relations are severally employed, the whole scene is at a single glance comprehended and understood, and will afterwards be distinctly remembered in all its parts. The elements of the scene are no doubt all familiar, but the particular grouping of these elements are entirely new, and form an addition to his knowledge, as we formerly explained, as substantial, and as distinct, as the grouping of any other kind of objects or circumstances could possibly do. Here then is a certain amount of knowledge acquired by the child, which could be recorded in writing, or which might be communicated by words; but which, by the operation of this principle of grouping, has been acquired with greater ease, and in much less time, than he could either have read it, or described it. It has been done in this instance by Nature bringing the ideas suggested by the group directly before the mind of the child, without even the intervention of words; and we see by this example, how much more laborious it would have been to communicate the very same amount of knowledge to the pupil, by making him read the description of it, and how utterly preposterous and unnatural it would be to compel him, for the same purpose, to commit the words of that description to memory. The words are merely an artificial contrivance for the conveying of ideas;—and the more they can be kept out of view, it will be better for the teacher, and more natural and easy for the child.

In communicating knowledge, therefore, to the young, the more directly and simply the ideas to be communicated are presented to the mind the better. They must usually be communicated by words; but these, as the mere instruments of conveyance, should be kept as much as possible out of view. To bring them at all under the notice of the child is a defect; but to make them the chief object of learning, or to make the pupil commit them to memory, is not only laborious and unnecessary, but is unnatural and hurtful.

In all this we ought simply to take our lessons from Nature, if we wish to succeed in conveying knowledge by the combination of simple objects. In the above example, we have seen that a single glance was sufficient to give the infant a distinct idea of the whole scene; and the reason is, that the principle of individuation had previously done its work. Each of the elements of which the scene was composed, had undergone an individual and separate examination, and therefore each was familiar. This is Nature's method of communicating knowledge to the young; and it is obvious, that a different arrangement of the objects or actions would have made no difference in the effects produced by the operation of the principle. Whatever the circumstances might have been, the new scene, with all its variety of incidents, persons, and things, which it would take ten-fold more time to enumerate than to learn, would at once be impressed on the mind, and delivered over to the keeping of the memory, without labour, or any perceptible effort. The whole grouping forms a chain of circumstances, any one link in which, when afterwards laid hold of by the mind, brings up all the others in connection with it. The memory by this means is relieved from the burden of remembering all the individualities, and the innumerable details of the scene, by maintaining a comprehensive hold of the whole united group, as one undivided object for remembrance.

From this it appears evident, that this principle is intended to succeed that of individuation, and never to precede it. Objects and truths which form the elements of knowledge must be individually familiar, before they can be successfully grouped, or associated together in masses, in the way in which the several parts of the knowledge of the young are usually presented; but after these objects or truths have once become known, they may be permanently associated together in any variety of form without fatigue, and be retained on the memory for use without confusion or distraction of any kind.

In our investigations into the nature and working of this principle, as detailed in a former chapter, we found several causes which gave rise to certain uniform effects, which, for the purpose of imitation or avoidance, may be classed under the following heads:—We found,

1. That wherever the principle of grouping acted with effect, it had always been preceded by the principle of individuation.

2. That wherever the principle of individuation was made to interfere, the effect intended by the principle of association was in the same degree obstructed or destroyed.

3. That whenever ideas or objects, whether known or unknown, were presented to a child in greater number than the mind could receive or reiterate them, it silently dropped the surplus;—but if these were forced upon the mind, all the mischiefs arising from the interference of the two hostile principles immediately took place.

4. That children, in grouping under the tuition of Nature, received and retained the impressions of objects presented to their notice, in a natural and regular order;—forming in their minds a continuous moving scene, where motion formed a part of it; and that this movement of the objects, actually was a portion of the grouping.

These being the facts connected with this portion of Nature's educational process, the object of the teacher should be to endeavour to imitate her in all these circumstances; carefully avoiding what she has shewn to be inoperative and hurtful, and copying as closely as possible all those that tend to forward the objects of instruction.

The first thing then to be attended to by the teacher, is, that in every attempt to communicate knowledge to a child by the grouping of objects, he takes care that the principle of individuation has preceded it;—that is, that the various ideas or objects to be grouped, be individually familiar to the pupil. In communicating a story, therefore, or an anecdote, or in teaching a child to read, care must be taken that the objects or individual truths, the words, or the letters, be previously taught by themselves, before he be called upon to group them in masses, whether greater or smaller. If this be neglected, an important law of Nature is violated, and the lesson to this extent will be ineffective, or worse. But if, on the contrary, this rule be attended to, the pupil, when he comes to these objects in the act of grouping, is prepared for the process; he meets with nothing that he is not familiar with; he has nothing to learn, and has only to allow the objects to take their proper places, as when he looked into the room, and grouped its contents as before supposed. All this being perfectly natural, is accomplished without effort, and with ease and pleasure.—This precaution on the part of the teacher, will at once remove many of the difficulties and embarrassments which have hitherto pressed so heavily upon the pupil in almost every stage of his advance, but more especially in the early stages of his learning to read.[17]

As an illustration of our meaning, we may notice here, that a child who knows what is meant by "sheep," and "the keeping of sheep," of "tilling the ground," and "making an offering to God," &c. is prepared to hear or to read an abridgement of the story of Cain and Abel. We say an abridgement or first step, for reasons which shall afterwards be explained. Without a previous knowledge of these several elements of which this story is compounded, he could neither have listened to it with pleasure, nor read it with any degree of profit; but as soon as these are individually familiar, the grouping,—the knowledge of the whole story,—is a matter of ease, and generally of delight. As the story advances, it causes a constant and regular series of groupings on the mind by the imagination, which are at once exquisitely pleasing and permanent. The child, as in a living and moving picture, imagines a man laboriously digging the ground, and another man in a distant field placidly engaged in attending to the wants and the safety of a flock of sheep. He imagines the former heaping an altar with fruits and without fire; and the latter killing a lamb, laying its parts on an altar, while a stream of fire descends from the skies and consumes it. His imagination goes on with increasing interest to picture the quarrel-scene in the field; and he in effect sees the blow given by the club of Cain, that destroyed the life of his brother. All this living and moving scene will be remembered in groups; and these groups will be more or less closely linked together, and will be imagined more or less distinctly as a whole, in proportion to the mental advancement of the particular child.

The next thing to be attended to in communicating knowledge to a child by grouping, is, that no strange for unknown object or idea be introduced among those which he is called upon to group; because in that case, the operation will be materially interfered with, and either marred or destroyed. The completeness of this operation in the hands of Nature, depends in a great measure, as we have seen, upon the perfect composure and self-possession of the mind during the process. If there be no interruption,—no element of distraction introduced into the exercise,—all the circumstances, as they arise in the gradual developement of the story, are comprehended and grouped. The living and moving picture is permanently fixed upon the memory, so that it may be recalled and reviewed at any future time. But if, on the contrary, the placidity of the mind be interrupted,—if some strange and unknown object be introduced, whose agency is really necessary for connecting the several parts of the story,—the very attempt of the child to become individually acquainted with it, throws the whole process into confusion; and he has either to drop the contemplation of this necessary part of the machinery, or to lose the benefit of all that is detailed during the time he is engaged with it. In either case the end is not gained; and the great design aimed at by the teacher,—the communication of the knowledge connected with the narrative,—is more or less frustrated. Like the landscape pictured on the placid bosom of the lake, the formation and contemplation of his own undisturbed imaginings are delightful to the child; but the introduction of an unknown object, like the dropping of a stone in the former case, produces confusion and distortion, which are always unpleasant and painful.

One general reason why the introduction of unknown objects into these groupings of the child is so pernicious, may also be here adverted to. It arises from the circumstance, that no person, whether young or old, can form, even in his imagination, the idea of an entirely new thing. This is commonly illustrated by the well known fact, that it is impossible to conceive of a new sense;—but it is equally applicable to the conception of a new object. Adults can no doubt conceive and picture on their imaginations, objects and scenes which they never saw;—but this mental act is not the imagining of an entirely new thing. All such scenes or things are compounded of objects, or parts of objects, which they have seen, and with which they are familiar. They can readily picture to themselves a centaur or a cerberus, a mermaid or a dragon,—creatures which have no existence, and which never did exist; but a little reflection will shew, that nothing which the mind conceives of these supposed animals is really new, but is merely a new combination of elements, or parts of other animals, already familiar. Children accordingly can easily conceive the idea of a giant or a dwarf, a woman without a head, or a man with two, because the elements of which these anomalies are compounded are individually familiar to them;—but were they told of a person sitting in a howdah, or being conveyed in a palanquin, without having these objects previously explained or described to them, the mind would either be drawn from the story to find out what these meant, and thus they would lose it; or they would, on the spur of the moment, substitute in their minds something else which perhaps had no likeness to them, and which would lead them into serious error. For example, they might suppose that the one was a house, and the other a ship;—a supposition which would distort the whole narrative, and would render many of its parts inconsistent and incomprehensible.

As adults then, in every similar case, are under the necessity of drawing materials from their general knowledge, for the purpose of compounding all such unknown objects, it must be much more difficult for a child to do this, not only because of his want of ability, but his want of materials. The remedy therefore in this case is, to explain and describe the objects that are to be grouped, before the pupil be called upon to do so. And when the object has not been seen by the child, and cannot be exhibited by a picture, or otherwise, the teacher must exert his ingenuity in enabling him to form an idea of the thing that is unknown, by a combination of parts of objects which are. Thus a tiger may be described as resembling a large cat; a wolf, a fox, or even a lion, as resembling certain kinds of dogs; a howdah as a smaller sofa, and a palanquin, as a light crib. In all these cases, it is worthy of notice, that a mere difference of size never creates confusion;—simply because, by a natural law in optics, such differences are of constant occurrence in the experience both of children and adults. A water neut will convey a sufficiently correct idea of a crocodile; and the picture of an elephant, only one inch square, will create no difficulty, if the correct height be given. When these rules have been attended to, it will be found, that this principle in Nature has been successfully imitated; and the pupil, by the previous process of individuation, will be perfectly prepared for the delightful task of grouping the objects which he now knows. When he comes to these objects in the narrative, he conceives the idea of them accurately, and he groups them without effort. There is no hesitation, and no confusion in his ideas. The painting formed upon the mind is correct; the whole picture is united into one connected scene, and is permanently imprinted on the memory for future use.

Another circumstance connected with this principle of grouping in children, we found to be, that when, at any time a greater number of objects were presented to the mind than it was able to reiterate and group, it silently dropt the surplus, and grouped those only which came within the reach of its powers; but if in any instance an attempt was made to force the child to receive and reiterate the ideas of objects beyond a certain point, the mind got confused, and its powers weakened.—The imitation of Nature in this point is also of great importance in education, particularly in teaching and exercising children in reading. To perceive this more clearly, it will be necessary to make a few remarks on the nature of the art of reading.

Reading is nothing more than a mechanical invention, imitative of the act of hearing; as writing is a mechanical mode of indicating sounds, and thus becomes a substitute for the art of speaking, and conveying ideas. But there is this material difference between reading and hearing, that in hearing the person giving attention is in a great measure passive, and may, or may not attend as he pleases. He may receive part of what is said, and, as prompted by Nature, he may silently drop all that he cannot easily reiterate. But in the act of reading, the person has both the active and the passive operations to perform. His mind, while he reads, must be actively engaged in decyphering the words of his book, and the ideas are, or should be, by this act, forced upon the observation of the mind at the same time. As long, therefore, as the child is required to read nothing except that which he understands, and to read no more, and no faster, than his mind can without distraction receive and reiterate the ideas which he reads, the act of grouping will be performed with ease, and with evident delight, and the powers of the mind will be healthfully and extensively exercised and strengthened:—But if this simple principle of Nature be violated, the exercise becomes irritating to the child, and most pernicious in its consequences. The neglect of this application of the principle is so common in education, that it usually escapes observation; but on this very account it demands from us here a more thorough investigation.

We say then, that this principle is violated when a child is required to read that which it does not, and perhaps cannot understand; and also when he is required to read more, or to read faster, than he is able to reiterate the ideas in his own mind. On each of these cases we shall say a few words, for the purpose of warning and directing the teacher in applying this important principle in education.

Let us then suppose a child set to read a section which he does not, and which there is every probability he cannot understand, and then let us carefully mark the consequences. The child in such a case reads the words in his book, which ought to convey to his mind the ideas which the words contain. This is the sole purpose of either hearing or reading. But this is not accomplished. The words are read, and the ideas are not perceived; but the child is required to read on. He does so; and of course when the first part of the subject or sentence has been beyond his reach, the second, which most probably hangs upon it, must be much more so. In this therefore he also fails; but he is still required to read on. Here is a practice begun, which at once defeats the very intention of reading, and allows the child's mind to roam upon any thing or every thing, while the eye is mechanically engaged with his book. The habit is soon formed. The child reads; but his attention is gone. He does not, and at length he cannot, understand by reading. This habit, as we formerly explained, when it is once formed, it requires great efforts on the part of the child to overcome. Most people when they are actively engaged in life, do at last overcome it; while thousands, who have nominally been taught to read, never can surmount the difficulties it involves. Many on this account, and for want of practising an art which they cannot profitably use, lose the art altogether.

But again, let us suppose a child set to read that which he may understand, but which he is required to read more rapidly than allows him to perceive and to reiterate the ideas while reading, and let us mark what are the necessary consequences in such a case. The child is called on to read a sentence, and he does so. He understands it too. But the art of reading is not yet familiar, and he has to bend part of his attention to the decyphering of the words, as well as to the perception and reiteration of the ideas. This requires more time in a child to whom reading is not yet familiar, than to a child more advanced. But give him a little time, and the matter is accomplished the ideas have been received, and they will be reiterated, grouped, and committed to the keeping of the memory,—and then they will form part of his knowledge. But if this time be not given,—if the child, while engaged in collecting the ideas from the words of one sentence, be urged forward to the reading of another, the mental confusion formerly described instantly takes place. More ideas are forced upon the mind than it can reiterate; no group can be formed, because the elements of which it ought to be composed, have not yet been perceived; the imagination gets bewildered;—the mind is unnaturally burdened;—its faculties are overstretched;—the child is discouraged and irritated; the powers of his mind fatigued and weakened; and the whole object of the teacher is at once defeated, and rendered worse than useless.—In every case, therefore, when the child is called on to read, sufficient time should be given;—the teacher taking care that the main design of reading, that of collecting and grouping ideas, be always accomplished; and that the pupil reads no more at one time than he can thoroughly understand and retain.

There is yet another circumstance connected with this process of grouping, which ought not to be overlooked. It refers to the order in which the objects to be grouped by the child are presented to his notice. A child under the guidance of Nature, receives and retains its impressions of objects in a natural and simple order. When it witnesses a scene, the group of objects, or actions formed and pictured on the mind by the imagination, is exactly as they were seen, the one circumstance following the other in natural and regular order. In telling a story therefore to a child, and more especially in composing lessons for them to read, this part of Nature's plan should be carefully studied and acted upon. The elements of which the several groupings are composed, or the circumstances in the narrative to be related, should be presented in the order in which the eye would catch them in Nature, or the order in which they occurred, that there may be no unnecessary retrogression of the mind, no confounding of ideas, no fear of losing the links that connect and bind together the minor groupings of the story. In the history of Cain and Abel, for example, the child is not to be required to paint upon his imagination, a deadly struggle between two persons of whom as yet he knows nothing; and then, retiring backwards in the story, be made acquainted with the circumstances connected with their several offerings to God; and last of all, their parentage, their occupations, and their characters. The minds of the young and inexperienced would be perplexed and bewildered by such a plan of proceeding; and the irregularity would most probably be the cause of their losing the whole story. The opposite of this plan is no doubt frequently adopted in works of fiction prepared for adults, and for the sake of effect; but every one must see that it is unnecessary in simple history, and is not at all adapted for the instruction of the young. When Nature's method is adopted, the child collects and groups the incidents as he proceeds, and paints, without effort, the whole living and moving scene on his imagination, as if he himself had stood by, and been an eye-witness of the original events.

The ascertained benefits of these modes of imitating Nature, are literally innumerable; and it is happily within the power of every parent or teacher, in a single hour, to test them for himself. We shall merely advert to one or two instances which occurred in the recorded experiments, where their effects, in combination with the other principles, were conspicuous.

In the experiment upon the prisoners in the County Jail of Edinburgh, the acquisition of their knowledge of Old Testament History, instead of being a burden, was to them a source of unmingled gratification. There were painted upon their minds the leading incidents in the history of the patriarchs, not only in groups, but their judgments being ripened, they were able to perceive them in regular connection. These pictures, then so pleasantly impressed on their imaginations, are likely to remain with them through the whole of their lives. The Report says, that "they were examined on their knowledge of the Book of Genesis," and "gave a distinct account of its prominent facts from Adam down to the settlement in Goshen, and shewed by their answers that these circumstances were understood by them in their proper nature and bearings."

By the same means, but in less time, and to a greater extent, the same object was attained with the children in Aberdeen, who, though chosen from the schools specially on account of their want of knowledge, were, by only a few hours teaching, enabled, besides many other subjects of knowledge, to receive and retain on their minds the great leading circumstances that occurred from "the death of Moses downwards, to that of the revolt of the ten tribes in the reign of Rehoboam."

In the experiment in London also, a large portion of Old Testament history, with much other knowledge, was acquired in a few hours by a boy of about nine years of age, who, previously to the commencement of the experiment, knew no more of God than the name;—who had no idea of a soul, or that he should live after death;—who "had never heard of Adam, Noah, or Abraham;"—"had no idea of a Saviour; knew nothing of heaven or hell; had never heard of Christ, and knew not whether the name belonged to a man or a woman." Yet this boy, in an exceedingly short time, could give an account of many groupings in the Old Testament history.

We shall only remark, in conclusion, that if, by the proper application of this principle, so much knowledge may be acquired by rude and ignorant children, not only without effort, but in the enjoyment of great satisfaction; what may not be expected in ordinary circumstances, when the pupils are regularly trained and prepared for the purpose, and when all the principles employed by Nature in this great work, are made to unite their aids, and to work in harmony together for producing an enlightened and virtuous population? This may most assuredly be gained in an exceedingly short period of time, by a close and persevering imitation of Nature in these educational processes.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Note O.

CHAP. VI.

On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in
Communicating Knowledge by Classification, or Analysis.

In a former chapter we had occasion to notice a fourth principle brought into operation by Nature in the acquisition of knowledge, which is the principle of Classification, or Analysis; and we shall now enquire how this principle may be successfully imitated by the teacher for the furtherance of his art.

There are two forms, which in a former chapter we endeavoured to trace out and explain, in which this principle of Analysis appears in the educational process of Nature. We shall here again very shortly advert to them, beginning with that which in education is perhaps the most important, but which hitherto has certainly been least attended to,—that of teaching connected truths by progressive steps.

When we read a connected section of history for the first time, and then examine the state of our knowledge respecting it, we find that we have retained some of the ideas or truths which we read, but that we have lost more. When that portion which we have retained is carefully examined, we find that it consists chiefly of the more prominent features of the narrative, with perhaps here and there occasional groupings of isolated circumstances. We have, in fact, retained upon the memory, little more than the general outline,—the great frame-work of the history. There will be the beginning, the middle, and the end, containing perhaps few of the minor details, but what is retained is all in regular order, bound together as a continuous narrative, and, however meagre, the whole forms in the imagination of the reader, a distinct and connected whole. There is perhaps no more of the intended fabric of the history erected in the mind than the mere skeleton of the building; but this frame-work, however defective in the details, is complete both as to shape and size, and is a correct model of the finished building from top to bottom. This is the state of every advanced pupil's mind, after he has for the first time closed the reading of any portion of history or biography. If the narrative itself has been correct, this general outline,—this great frame-work of the history,—remains on his mind through life, without any material alteration. Additional information afterwards will assist in filling up the empty spaces left between the more massive materials, but it will neither shake, nor shift them; and even the most minute details of individual or family incidents, connected with the general narrative, while they add additional interest, and fill up or ornament different and separate parts, will never alter the general form of the fabric, nor displace any of the main pillars upon which it is supported.

This is one way of illustrating this analytical process of Nature; but for the purposes of imitating it in education it is not perhaps the best. The idea of a regular analytical table of the history, formed of successive branches, by successive readings, is by far the most natural and applicable. By a first reading of a portion of history, there are certain great leading points established in the mind of the reader, which form the first branches of a regular analysis, and to some one or other of which parts or divisions every circumstance of a more minute kind connected with the history, will be found to be related. This first great division of the history attained by the first reading, if correct, will, and must, remain the same, whatever addition may afterwards be made to it. By a second reading, our knowledge of the leading points will greatly assist us in collecting and remembering many of the more minute circumstances embodied in them, or intimately connected with them; but even then, an ordinary mind, and more especially a young person, will not have made himself master of all the details. A third, and perhaps a fourth reading, will be found necessary to give him a full command of all the minuter circumstances recorded.[18]

In endeavouring to take advantage of this principle, so extensively employed by Nature, it is of great importance to observe, that a certain definite effect is produced by each successive reading. A first reading establishes in the mind of the pupil a regular frame-work of the whole history, which it is the business of every successive reading to fill up and complete. There is by the first course, a separation of the whole subject into heads, forming the regular divisions of a first branch of the analysis;—the second course tends to subdivide these again into their several parts; and to form a second branch in this analytical table;—and a third course, would enable the pupil to perceive and to separate the parts of the narrative included in these several divisions, by which there would arise a third branch, all included in the second, and even in the first.

We have here supposed, that the pupil has been engaged with the very same chapters in each of these several courses;—and that he read the same words in the first course that he read in those which followed. He had to read the whole, although he could retain but little. He had to labour the whole field for the sake of procuring plants, which could have been more certainly and more healthfully raised upon a square yard. His reading for hours has produced no more knowledge than is expressed by the first branch of the supposed analysis; and therefore, if the teacher would but analyse the subject for the child, whether it be a science or a history,—suppose for example, the History of Joseph,—and give his younger pupils no more at first than the simple outline of the story, some very important advantages would be the result. In the first place, the very difficult task of keeping the volatile mind of a child continuously fixed to the subject during the lengthened reading of the whole narrative will be unnecessary;—the irritation and uneasiness which such a lengthened exercise must produce in a child will be avoided;—time will be economised, the labour of the teacher will be spared, and the mind of the child at the close of the exercise, instead of being fagged and prostrated, will be found vigorous and lively. And yet, with all this, the positive result will be the same. The child's knowledge of the subject in this latter case, will in reality be as extensive, and much more distinct and permanent, than in the former.

Here is the first step gained; and to attain the second, a similar course must be pursued. Nature, who formed this first branch of the analytical table on the minds of the first class of the children, formed another and more extended branch in the minds of the second class. The teacher therefore has only to take each of the branches which form the first step, and sub-divide them into their natural heads, so as to form a second,—and to teach this to his children in the same manner that he taught them the former. By this means, the first class will now possess an equal degree of knowledge with those who occupied the second;—and by a similar process, the others would advance to the third and the fourth classes according to circumstances.

The plan here proposed for imitating Nature by progressive steps, has been tried with undeviating success for many years. Its efficiency, as embracing the principle employed by Nature for the communication of knowledge, has been repeatedly subjected to the most delicate and at the same time the most searching experiments. By its means, in connection of course with the catechetical exercise by which it is wrought, very extraordinary effects have been produced even upon individuals whose minds and circumstances were greatly below the average of common children.

In the experiment made upon the adult criminals in the County Jail of Edinburgh, the pupils acquired easily and permanently a thorough knowledge of the history contained in the Book of Genesis. "They gave a distinct account of its prominent facts, from Adam, down to the settlement in Goshen, and shewed by their answers, that these circumstances were understood by them, in their proper nature and bearings. They gave, in the next place, a connected view of the leading doctrines of revelation; when their answers evinced, most satisfactorily, that they apprehended, not merely each separate truth, but that they perceived its relation to others, and possessed a considerable knowledge of the divine system as a whole. They were also examined upon several sections of the New Testament; where their answers displayed an equally clear and accurate knowledge of the subject." These persons, be it observed, belonged to a class of individuals, who are generally considered to be peculiarly hostile to the reception of information of this kind, and certainly who are least able to comprehend and retain it; and all this, besides other portions of knowledge, on which they were examined during the experiment, was communicated with ease by about twenty hours teaching.

By the experiment made at Aberdeen, upon children the most ignorant that the Committee of Clergymen could find among the several schools in the city, it was ascertained, that after only nine or ten hours teaching, they had not only received a thorough knowledge of "several sections of New Testament History," but that they had acquired a knowledge of all the leading events included in the Old Testament History, from "the death of Moses, downwards to that of the revolt of the Ten Tribes in the reign of Rehoboam. Here they distinctly stated and described all the leading circumstances of the narrative comprised in the 'First Step,' whose brief but comprehensive outline they appeared, in various instances, to have filled up at home, by reading in their Bibles the corresponding chapters."

The efficiency of this form of analytical teaching, as exhibited in successive steps, when employed for the purpose of teaching a knowledge of civil history and biography, was also proved with equal certainty;—for these same children showed a thorough knowledge of that portion of the History of England embraced by the reign of Charles I. and the Commonwealth; and in biography, the life of the late John Newton having been employed for the purpose, they shewed such an acquaintance with the leading facts, and the uses to be made of them, that the reverend gentlemen in this report of the experiment say, that the children had "to be restrained, as the time would not permit."

In teaching the sciences, particularly the science of natural philosophy, this method of employing the principle of analysis has been found equally successful. Nature indeed, by the regular division of her several works, has obviously pointed this out as the proper method of proceeding, especially with the young; and the success that has invariably accompanied the attempt, shews that the opinion is well founded.

In the experiment at Aberdeen, the class of children, who were specially selected from their companions on account of their ignorance only a few days before, were "interrogated, scientifically, as to the production, the nature, and the properties of several familiar objects, with the view of shewing how admirably calculated the Lesson System is, for furnishing the young with a knowledge of natural science and of the arts. One of their little companions being raised before them on a bench, they described every part of his dress, from the bonnet downwards, detailing every process and stage of the manufacture. The bonnet, which was put on his head for this purpose, the coat, the silk-handkerchief, the cotton vest, were all traced respectively from the sheep, the egg of the silk-worm, and the cotton-pod. The buttons, which were of brass, were stated to be a composition of copper and zinc, which were separately and scientifically described, with the reasons assigned, (as good as could be given,) for their admixture, in the composition of brass." "A lady's parasol, and a gentleman's watch were described in the same manner. The ivory knob, the brass crampet, the bamboo, the whalebone, the silk, were no sooner adverted to, than they were scientifically described. When their attention was called to the seals of the gentleman's watch, they immediately said, 'These are of pure, and those of jeweller's gold,' and described the difference. The steel ring was traced to the iron-stone in the mine, with a description of the mode of separating the metal from its combinations. The processes requisite for the preparation of wrought-iron from the cast-iron, and of steel from the wrought-iron, with the distinguishing properties of each of these metals, were accurately described, and some practical lessons drawn from these properties; such as, that a knife ought never to be put into the fire, and that a razor should be dipped in warm water previous to its being used. Various articles were collected from individuals in the meeting, and successively presented to them, all of which they described. India-rubber, cork, sponge, pocket combs, &c. A small pocket thermometer, with its tube and its mercury, its principles and use, and even the Turkey-leather on the cover, were all fully described. After explaining the nature and properties of coal-gas, one of the boys stated to the meeting, that since the commencement of this experiment, he had himself attempted, and succeeded in making gas-light by means of a tobacco-pipe;—his method of doing which he also described."

The other form in which the principle of Analysis may, in imitation of Nature, be successfully employed in communicating knowledge to the young, is not to be considered as new, although the working of the principle may not have been very clearly perceived, or systematically regulated. It is seen most simply perhaps in the division of any subject,—a sermon for example—into its great general heads; and then endeavouring to illustrate these, by sub-dividing each into its several particulars. By this means the whole subject is bound together, the judgment is healthfully exercised, and the memory is greatly assisted in making use of the information communicated.

It is upon this plan that the several discourses and speeches in the Acts of the Apostles have been analysed, as an introduction to the teaching of the epistles to the young.[19] Upon the same principle depends the success of the "Analysis of Prayer," of which we shall afterwards have to speak; and it is by means of this principle, in connection with the successive steps, that the several departments of natural philosophy are proposed to be taught.

The efficiency of the principle in this form, as applied to the teaching of natural philosophy to mere school boys, has been ascertained by numerous experiments, of which the one in Aberdeen, already alluded to, has afforded good evidence. But the experiment conducted in Newry, on account of several concurrent circumstances, is still more remarkable and appropriate, and to it therefore we propose briefly to refer."In the year 1830, the writer, in passing through the town of Newry on his way to Dublin, was waited upon by several Sunday school teachers, and was requested to afford them some information as to teaching their schools, and for that purpose to hold a meeting with them and their fellow teachers, before leaving the place. To this he readily agreed; but as he intended to go to Dublin by the coach, which passed through Newry in the afternoon, the meeting had to take place that same day at two o'clock. At that meeting, the Earl of Kilmorey and a party of his friends were very unexpectedly present; and they, after the business of the meeting was over, joined with the others in requesting him to postpone his departure, and to hold a public meeting on the following Tuesday, of which due intimation would be given, and many teachers in the neighbourhood, who must otherwise be greatly disappointed, would be able to attend." To this request, accordingly, he at once acceded.

"In visiting the schools next day, the propriety of preparing a class or two of children for the public meeting was suggested and approved of; and the day-teacher being applied to, gave Mr Gall a list of six of his boys for the purpose. With these children he met on Monday; and after instructing them in the doctrines of the Gospel, and teaching them how to draw lessons from Scripture, he began to teach them some parts of natural philosophy, and to draw lessons also from these. Their aptness, and eagerness to learn, suggested the idea of selecting one of the sciences, and confining their attention principally to it, for the purpose of ascertaining how much of the really useful parts of it they could acquire and learn to use, in the short space of time which must intervene between that period and the hour of meeting. Considering what would be most useful and interesting, rather than what would be most easy, he hastily fixed on the science of anatomy and physiology, and resolved to mark the time during which they were engaged with him in learning it. These lessons were altogether oral and catechetical,—as neither he nor the children at that time had any books to assist them in their labours.

"The method adopted by Mr Gall in communicating a knowledge of this important and difficult science to these school-boys, was strictly analytical;—classifying and connecting every part of his subject, and bringing out the several branches of the analysis in natural order, so that the connection of all the parts was easily seen, and of course well remembered. An illustration of his method may induce some parents to try it themselves.

"He first directed their attention to the bones, and taught them in a few words their nature and uses, as the pillars and safeguards of the body;—the shank, the joint, and the ligaments, forming the branches of this part of the analysis. He then led them to imagine these bones clothed with the fleshy parts, or muscles, of which the mass, the ligaments, and the sinews, formed the branches. He explained the nature of their contraction; and shewed them, that the muscles being fastened at one end by the ligament to a bone, its contraction pulled the sinew at the other, and thus bent the joint which lay between them.—He then taught them the nature and uses of the several viscera, which occupy the chest and belly, and their connection with each other. This prepared the way for considering the nature of the fluids of the body, particularly the blood, and its circulation from the heart and lungs by the arteries, and to them again by the veins, with the pulsation of the one, and the valves of the other. The passage of the blood through the lungs, and the uses of the air-cells and blood-vessels in that organ were described; when the boys, (having previously had a lesson on the nature of water, atmospheric air, and the gases,) readily understood the importance of bringing the oxygen into contact with the blood, for its renovation from the venous to the arterial state. The nature of the stomach and of digestion, of the intestines, lacteals, and absorbents, was next explained, more in regard to their nature than their names,—which last were most difficult to remember;—but the knowledge of the function, invariably assisted the memory in recalling the name of the organ. They were next made acquainted with the brain, the spinal cord, and the nervous system generally, as the source of motion in the muscles, and the medium of sensation in conveying intelligence from the several organs of sense to the brain, by which alone the soul, in some way unknown, receives intelligence of outward objects. This prepared the way for an account of the organs of sense, and the mechanism of their parts; and lastly, they were made acquainted with the integuments, skin, hair, and nails, with the most obvious of their peculiarities.—On all these they were assiduously and repeatedly catechised, till the truths were not only understood, but were in some degree familiar to them. In this they were greatly assisted by a consideration of their own bodies; which Mr Gall took care to make a kind of text-book, not only for making him better understood, but for enabling them more easily and permanently to remember what he told them. When he shewed them, by their hands, feet, and face, the ramifications of the blood-vessels and nerves,—the mechanism of the joints,—the contraction of the various muscles,—the situation and particular uses of which he himself did not even know, but which were nevertheless moved at their own will, and whenever they pleased,—the young anatomists were greatly pleased and astonished; and this added to their eagerness for farther information, and to their zeal in shewing that they understood, and were able again to communicate it.

"These preparatory meetings were never protracted to any great extent, as the whole time was divided into three or four portions,—the boys being dismissed to think over the subject, (for they had nothing to read,) and to meet again at a certain hour. The watch was again produced, and the time marked; and when the whole period occupied by this science and its connections was added together, it amounted to two hours and a half exactly. One of these lessons, and the longest, was given during a stroll in the fields.

"The public meeting of parents and teachers was held at Newry on the 5th of October 1830, when the above class, with others, were examined on the religious knowledge which had been communicated to them on the previous days, with its lessons and uses; after which the six boys were taken by themselves, and thoroughly and searchingly catechised on their knowledge of the anatomy and physiology of the human body. They were examined first on the nature and uses of the bones, their shapes, substance, joints, and ligaments. Then on the nature and offices of the muscles, with their blood-vessels, nerves, ligaments, sinews, and motions;—the uses of the several viscera;—the heart with its pulsations, its power, its ventricles and auricles, and their several uses;—the lungs, with their air-cells, blood-vessels, and their use in arterializing the blood;—the stomach, intestines, &c. with their peristaltic motions, lacteals, &c.;—the brain, spinal cord, and nerves, with their connections, ramifications, and uses;—the senses, with their several organs, their mechanism, and their manner of acting. On all these they were questioned, and cross-questioned, in every variety of form: And that the audience might be satisfied that this was not a mere catalogue of names, but that in fact the physiology of the several parts was really known, and would be remembered, even if the names of the organs should be forgotten, they were made repeatedly to traverse the connecting links of the analysis forward from the root, through its several branches, to the extreme limit in the ultimate effect; and, at other times backward, from the ultimate effect to the primitive organ, or part of the body from which it took its origin. For example, they could readily trace forward the movement of the arm joint, or any other joint, from the ligament of the muscle at its junction with the bone, through its contraction by the nerve at the fiat of the will, by which the sinew of the muscle, fastened at the opposite side of the joint, is pulled, and the joint bent;—or they could trace backward any of the operations of the senses,—the sight, for example, from the object seen, through the coats of the eye, to the inverted picture of it formed upon the retina, which communicated the sensation to the optic nerve, by which it was conveyed to the brain. In all which they invariably succeeded, and shewed that the whole was clearly and connectedly understood.

"When this had been minutely and extensively done on the several parts of the body, some medical gentlemen who were present were requested to catechise them on any of the topics they had learnt, for the purpose of assuring themselves and the audience that the children really and familiarly understood all that they had been catechised upon. One of the medical gentlemen, for himself and the others present, then stated publicly to the meeting, that the extent of the children's knowledge of this difficult science was beyond any thing that they could have conceived. And afterwards affirmed, that he had seen students who had attended the medical classes for six months, who did not know so much of the human body as these children now did."

This experiment became more remarkable from a circumstance which took place within a few days afterwards, and which tended still more strongly to prove the permanence and efficiency of this method of imitating Nature; shewing, not only that truth when communicated as Nature directs, is easily received, and permanently retained upon the memory, but that all such truths when thus communicated, become more and more familiar to the mind, and more decidedly under the controul, and at the command of the will. The circumstance is thus recorded in the account of the experiment[20] from which we have already quoted.

"At the close of the meeting, Mr Gall took farewell of his young friends, not expecting to have the pleasure of seeing them again; and (after a promised visit to Ravenstile,) he proceeded on the following Thursday to Rostrevor, where he found a numerous audience, (publicly called together by Lady Lifford, the Rev. Mr Jacobs, and others, to receive him,) already assembled.

"Here, in the course of teaching a class of children brought to him for the first time, and explaining the nature and capabilities of the system, reference was made to the above experiment only a few days before in their neighbourhood at Newry. Two gentlemen,[21] officially and intimately connected with the Kildare Place Society of Dublin, being accidentally present, were at their own desire introduced to Mr Gall by a clerical friend after the close of the exercises. The circumstances of the Newry experiment, which had been mentioned during the meeting, were strongly doubted, till affirmed by the clerical friend who introduced them; who, having been present and witnessed it, assured them that the circumstances connected with the event had not been exaggerated. They then stated, that it must of necessity have been a mere transient glimpse received of the science by the children; which, being easily got, would be as easily lost; and that its evanescent nature would without all question be found, by their almost immediately having forgotten the whole of what had been told them. Mr Gall, however, assured them, that so far from that being the case, he was convinced, from long experience, that the information communicated would be much more lasting than that received in any other way. That the impressions, so repeatedly made upon their minds by the catechetical exercises, would remain with them very likely through life; while the effect of the analytical mode, by which he had linked the whole together, would prevent any of the important branches from ever being separated from the rest. If, therefore, they remembered any of the truths, they would most probably remember all. And besides, he shewed, that the daily use, in the ordinary business of life, which they would find for the lessons from the truths taught, would revive part, and perhaps the whole, upon their memories every day. But as it was of importance that they should be satisfied, and to set the matter at rest, he agreed to call the boys unexpectedly together at another public meeting in Newry, where they might be present and judge for themselves; and without seeing or talking with the boys, he would examine them again publicly, and as extensively as before; when he was convinced they would shew, that the whole was as fresh on their memories as when they at first received it. In short, that they would be able to undergo the most searching ordeal, with equal, if not greater ease, than they had done formerly.

"This was accordingly done. A meeting took place next day, equally respectable, and perhaps more numerous than the former, to which the boys were brought from their school, without preparation, or knowing what they were to be asked. They were then more fully and searchingly examined than at first; and there being more time, they were much longer under the exercise. It was then found, that the information formerly communicated was not only remembered, but that the several truths were much more familiar, in themselves and in their connection with each other, than they had been at the former meeting. This had evidently arisen from their own frequent meditations upon them since that time, and their application of the several lessons, either with one another, their parents, or themselves. The medical gentlemen were again present, and professed themselves equally pleased."

From the number and variety of these facts, which might be indefinitely extended, it is obvious, that a new path lies open to the Educationist, which, as yet, has been scarcely entered upon. The same amount of success is at the command of every teacher who will follow in the same course, and keep rigidly in the path pointed out to him by Nature.

FOOTNOTES:

[18] Note P.

[19] Note Q.

[20] Complete Directory for Sunday School Teachers, vol. i. p. 267, and Effects of the Lesson System, p. 37.

[21] Counsellor Jackson, M. P. Secretary to the Kildare Place Society, and Mr Hamilton, brother-in-law to the Duke of Wellington, one of the Committee.

CHAP. VII.

On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Practical Use of Knowledge.

The third step in the educational process of Nature we have found to be, the training of her pupil to the practical use of his knowledge.—All her other processes, we have seen from numerous circumstances, are merely preparatory and subservient to this; and therefore, the attempt at imitation here by the teacher is of corresponding importance. The practical application of knowledge must be the great end of all the pupil's learning; and the parent or teacher should conduct his exercises and labours in such a manner as shall be most likely to attain it. The powers of the mind are to be cultivated;—but they are to be cultivated chiefly that the pupil may be able to collect and make use of his knowledge:—And knowledge is to be pursued and stored up;—but this is to be done that it may remain at his command, and be readily put to use when it is required. To suppose any thing else, is to suppose something directly opposed to all the indications of Nature, and to the plainest suggestions both of reason and experience.

If in this department then, the teacher is to imitate Nature with effect, there are two preliminary objects of which he ought never to lose sight. The first is, that he studiously select from the numerous subjects which may form the staple of education, those only, or at least chiefly, which are to be most useful, and which may most easily and most frequently be put to use by the pupil;—and the second is, that whatever be the truth or the subject taught, the child should, at the time of learning, be instructed in the methods and the circumstances in which it may be used. To neglect these preliminary points, is really to betray the cause of education, and, besides inflicting a lasting injury on the young, to deceive the public.

In our enquiries into Nature's method of applying knowledge, we found, in a former chapter, that she employs two distinct agencies in the work. The one we denominated the Natural, or Common Sense; and the other is the Conscience, or Moral Sense:—the one appearing to regulate our knowledge in so far as it refers to the promotion of our own personal and physical comforts; and the other, in so far as it refers to the rights and the well-being of others, and to our own moral good. The method which she employs in working out these two principles, is, as we before explained, very nearly the same; consisting of the perception of some useful truth,—the deduction of a lesson from that truth,—and the application of that lesson to corresponding circumstances. On that account, our attempts to imitate her operations as exhibited by the one, will, in form, be nearly the same as in the other. We shall here, therefore, attend to the methods by which Nature may be successfully imitated under both agencies, and shall then state a few illustrations and facts which are more peculiarly applicable to each in particular.Before doing this, however, we cannot help once more pressing upon the mind of all connected with education, the great importance—the necessity—of that part of the subject upon which we are now to enter. We have said, and we again repeat, that this is education; and every thing else taught to a child is, or ought to be, either preliminary or supplementary;—belonging to education, perhaps, but not education itself. It is practice, and not theory, that constitutes the basis of all improvement, whether in the arts, or in morals and religion; and it is to this practical application of what he learns, that every child should be trained, by whatever name the mode of doing so may be known. All our blessings are destined to come to us by the use of proper means; and this general principle applies both to temporal and spiritual matters. Now "the use of means," is only another mode of expressing "the practical application of knowledge." And if so, what are we to think of the philosophy or the candour of the person, who is apparently the friend of education, but who remains indifferent or hostile to the thing itself, merely because it is presented to him under another name. He may be a zealous advocate for the spread of knowledge;—but that is not education.—Knowledge is but the means,—the application of it is the end; and when therefore he stops short at the communication of knowledge, while he is indifferent to the teaching of its use, he endangers the whole of his previous labour. One single truth put to use, is of more real value to a child than a thousand are, as long as they remain unused; and of this, every friend of the young ought to be convinced. Our health, our food, and our general happiness depend, not on knowledge received, but on knowledge applied; and therefore, to teach knowledge that is inapplicable or useless, or to teach useful knowledge without teaching at the same time how it may be put to use by the pupil, is neither reasonable nor just. Hence the importance of our present investigation; and hence we have no hesitation in saying, that the enquiry, "How can Nature be most successfully imitated in her application of knowledge?" is the most momentous question that can be put by the teacher; and a successful answer will constitute the most precious boon that can be afforded to education. To assist in this enquiry is the design of the present chapter; and we shall accordingly examine a little more in detail the circumstances that take place in the experience of the young, when they are induced to apply their knowledge under the guidance of Nature, and without another teacher.

For this purpose, let us suppose two children about to cross a piece of soft ground. The one goes forward, and his foot sinks in the mud. Does the other follow him? No indeed. The most stupid child we could find, if within the limits of sanity, would immediately stand still, or seek a passage at another point. Here then is an example of the way in which children, while entirely under the guidance of Nature, make use of their knowledge, by applying the principle of which we are here speaking in cases of urgency and danger; and we shall now endeavour to analyse the process, that we may the more readily arrive at some exercise, by which it may be artificially imitated, whether the application be urgent and required at the moment or not.

We have supposed one child going forward on the soft ground, while the other is slowly following him. When the foot of the first sinks, the other instantly stands still; and a spectator can perceive, better perhaps than the child himself, that something like the following mental process takes place on the occasion. The child thinks with himself, "Tom's foot has sunk; if I go forward, I also will sink; I will therefore stand still, or cross at another place." This is an exact parallel to thousands of similar instances which come under the notice of parents and others every day; and is a process quite familiar to adults who have paid any attention to the operation of their own minds when similarly circumstanced. When it is analysed, we find it to consist, as shewn in a former chapter, of three distinct parts, not one of which can be left out if the effect is to be produced. There is always, at the commencement of such an operation, the knowledge of some fact; "Tom's foot has sunk." There is, secondly, an inference or lesson drawn from this knowledge, "If I go forward, I also will sink." And there is, thirdly, the practical application of that lesson, or inference, to the child's present circumstances: "I will stand still, or cross at another place."

It is this process, or one in every point similar, that takes place in the mind, either of the young or the old, whenever they apply the facts gleaned by observation or experience for the guidance of their conduct. Now what we are at present in search of, is an exercise applicable to reading, as well as to observation;—to the school, as well as to the play ground or the parlour;—and to knowledge whose use may not be required at the instant, as well as that to which we are driven by necessity.

The desideratum here desired is to be found by the teacher in the method, now very extensively known, of drawing lessons from useful truths, and then applying them to the future probable circumstances of the pupils. For example, when a child reads, or is told that Jacob was punished by God for cheating his brother and telling a lie, the great object of the parent or teacher is to render these truths practical,—which the question, "What does that teach you?" never fails to do. The child, as soon as he knows the design of his teacher in communicating practical truths, and is asked the above question, will tell him, that he ought never to cheat his neighbour, or tell a lie. The application of these lessons, when thus established as a rule of duty founded on Scripture, is as extensive as the circumstances in which they may be required are various;—and the teacher has only to suppose such a case, and to ask his pupil, if he were placed in these circumstances, what he should do. The dullest of his children will at once perceive the duty, and the source from which he derives confidence in performing it.

There is no difficulty, as we have seen, in drawing and applying practical lessons in cases of urgency, where experience and the common sense of the individual prompt him to it;—and this attempt to imitate Nature in less urgent cases, and especially in hearing, or in the more artificial operation of reading, has been found in experience to be completely successful. We shall endeavour to point this out by a few familiar examples.

Let us for this purpose suppose, that one of the boys formerly mentioned is accompanied by his teacher, instead of his companion, and is approaching the soft ground which lies between them and the house. Before they arrive at the spot, his teacher tells him, that the marsh before them is so soft that even a child's foot would sink if he attempted to tread upon it. The boy might hear, and perfectly understand the truth, and yet he might not at the time think of the use to which it ought to be put. But if the teacher shall immediately add, "What does that teach you?"—his attention would instantly be called, not so much to the truth itself, as to the uses which ought to be made of it, and his answer in such a plain case would be ready, "We must not cross there, but seek a road to the house by some other way." Now here the fact was verbally communicated; and although the object was in sight, and the use of the fact might in some measure have been anticipated so as to suggest the answer, yet a little consideration will shew, that a similar effect would have been produced by the question, had the parties been in the house, or had the truth been derived from reading, and not from the oral communication of the teacher.It is the want of something like this in the acquisition of truth by books, which renders that kind of knowledge in general of so little practical benefit. The truths and facts learned while attending school, are too often received as mere abstractions, without reference to their uses, or to the personal application of those uses to the circumstances of the child or his companions. Events daily occur in which the pupil's knowledge might be of important service;—but the benefits to be derived from it not having been taught, and the method of applying the facts which he has acquired by reading not having been explained,—the knowledge and its uses are seldom seen together, and the practical benefit of the teaching is accordingly lost. This at once accounts for the very remarkable circumstance, that children, and not unfrequently adults also, derive far more benefit from the scanty knowledge which they have gleaned by observation and experience, than from the many thousands of highly useful facts which have again and again been pressed upon their notice by reading and study. In almost every case Nature prompts us, as we have seen, to turn to our own benefit the knowledge which she has imparted; but as the mode of teaching reading, which is the artificial method of acquiring information, often overlooks the use we are to make of it, we remain satisfied with the knowledge itself, and do not think of its application. To illustrate this fact in some measure, let us suppose a basket of filberts set down for the use of a company of boys, and that one of them tries to crack the shells with his front teeth. He fails. But he sees his companions put the nuts farther back in the mouth, and succeed. Does he lose his share, by continuing to misapply the lever-power provided for him by Nature?—No indeed. He, by a single observation, at once draws and applies the lesson;—he immediately cracks his nuts as readily as his companions, and he continues to do so all his lifetime after. But the same boy may have, that very forenoon, been reading a treatise on the power of the lever, and might read it again and again without considering himself at all interested in the matter, or thinking it probable that he ever would. His reading, without the application we are here recommending, would never have led him to perceive the slightest similarity between the fulcrum of the lever, and the insertion of his jaw; or any connection between the lesson of the school, and the employment of the parlour:—But that would.

This is but one of a thousand examples that might be given, of the evils arising from the non-application of knowledge in reading, and which are applicable, not to children merely, but also to adults. The drawing and applying of lessons, the exercise which we are here recommending, has been found a valuable remedy for this defect in ordinary reading. The object of the teacher by its use, is to accomplish in the pupil by reading, what we have shewn Nature so frequently does by observation;—that is, to train the child to apply for his own use, or the use of others, those truths which he acquires from his book, in the same way that he does those which he derives from experience. To illustrate this, we shall instance a few cases of every day occurrence, in which the question, "What does this teach you?" when supplemented to the fact communicated, will almost invariably answer the purpose desired, whether the truth from which the lesson is to be drawn, has been received by observation, by oral instruction, or by reading.

When an observing well-disposed child sees a school-fellow praised and rewarded for being obliging and kind to the aged or the poor, there is formed in the mind of that child, more or less distinctly, a resolution to follow the example on the first opportunity. Here is the fact and the lesson, with the application in prospect. This whole feeling may be faint and evanescent, but it is real; and it only wants the cultivating hand of the teacher to arrest it, and to render it permanent. Accordingly, if on the child hearing the praise given to his companion for being kind and obliging to the poor, he had at the time been asked, "What does that teach you?" the lesson suggested by Nature would instantly have assumed a tangible form; and in communicating the answer to the teacher, both the truth and the lesson would have been brought more distinctly before the mind, and the reply, "I should be kind and obliging to the poor," would tend to fix the duty on the memory, and would be a good preparation for putting it in practice when the next occasion should occur.

Again, if another thoughtful and well disposed child sees a companion severely punished for telling a lie, the question, "What does that teach me?" is in some shape or degree formed in his mind, and his resolution, however faint, is taken to avoid that sin in future. This, it is obvious, is nothing more than a practical answer to the above question, forced upon the child by the directness of the circumstances, but which would not have so readily made its appearance, or produced its effect, in cases of a less obtrusive kind, or in one of more remote application; and every person must see, that the beneficial effects desired would have been more definite, more effectual, and much more permanent, had this faint indication of Nature's intention been followed up by orally asking the question at the child, and requiring him audibly to return an answer.

Let us once more suppose a child in the act of reading the history of Cain and Abel, in the manner in which it is commonly read by the young, and that the child thoroughly understands all the circumstances. He may be deeply interested in the story, while the uses to be made of it may not be very clearly perceived. But if, after reading any one of the moral circumstances, such as "Cain hated his brother," or after having it announced to him by the teacher, he was asked, "What does that teach you?" the practical use of the truth would at once be forced upon his mind, and he would now very readily answer, "It teaches me that I should not hate my brother." In this case also, it is quite obvious, that without such a question having been proposed, and the answer to it given, the practical uses of the truth recorded might have been altogether overlooked; and even although they had not, still the question and its answer will always have the effect of making them stand out much more prominently before the mind, and will enable the memory to hold them more tenaciously, and bring them forth more readily for practice, than if such an operation had been neglected. Hence the great importance of training the young by this exercise early to perceive the uses of every kind of knowledge, particularly Scriptural knowledge; because the habit formed in youth, will continue to render every useful truth of practical benefit during life.

We may remark here, that the exercise is not limited in its application to the young. For if an adult were first told, that the squalid beggar before him, though once respectable and rich, had made himself wretched by a course of idleness and dissipation, and were then asked, "What does that teach you?" he would instantly perceive the lesson, and would be stimulated to apply it. When, in like manner, the farmer is told that his neighbour has ruined himself by over-cropping his ground; or the iron master, that the use of the hot-blast has doubled the profits of his rival; a similar question would at once lead to the legitimate conclusion, and most likely to the proper conduct.

In all these examples, the operation of mind which we have endeavoured to describe, is so exceedingly simple, that it is perhaps difficult to decide how much is the work of Nature, and how much belongs to the exercise here recommended. This at once proves its efficiency, as an imitation of her process, in following her in the path which she has here pointed out; and it at the same time recommends itself as strictly accordant with observation and experience. The teacher then, in order to render the knowledge he communicates useful, has only to do regularly and by system, that which, under the direction of Nature, every intelligent and enquiring mind in its best moments does for itself. Wherever a useful truth has been communicated in the school or family, or a moral act or precept has been read or announced, the question by the parent or the teacher, "What does that teach you?" will lead the pupil to reflection, not only on its nature, but on its use; and the ability to do so, as we shall afterwards see, may be acquired by almost any individual with ease. Regular training in this way, leads directly to habits of reflection and observation, which are of themselves of great value; but which, when found acting in connection with the desire and ability to turn every truth observed into a practical channel, become doubly estimable, and a public blessing. The pupil therefore ought early to be trained of himself to supplement the question, "What does this teach me?" or, "What can I learn from this?" to every circumstance or truth to which his attention is called; because the ability to answer it forms the chief, if not the only correct measure of a well educated person. In proof of this it is only necessary to remark, that as it is not the man who has accumulated the greatest amount of anatomical and surgical knowledge, but he who can make the best use of it, that is really the best surgeon; so it is not the man who has acquired the largest portion of knowledge, but he who can make the best use of the largest portion, that is the best scholar. Hence it is, that all the exercises in a child's education should have in view the practical use of what he learns, and of what he is to continue through life to learn, as the great end to which all his learning should be subservient.The moral advantages likely to result from the general adoption of this mode of teaching useful knowledge are exceedingly cheering, and the only surprise is, that it has been so long overlooked. That the principle, though not directly applied to the purposes of education, was well known, and frequently practised by our forefathers, appears obvious from many of their valuable writings. One beautiful example of its application is familiar to thousands, though not always perceived, in the illustration given of the Lord's prayer towards the close of the Assembly's Larger and Shorter Catechisms. The study of the lessons there drawn from the truths stated or implied in that prayer, will afford a better idea of the value of this mode of teaching, than perhaps any farther explanation we could give, and to these therefore we refer the reader.

Before closing these general observations upon the value and necessity of this method of training the young to the practical use of knowledge, there is a circumstance which should not be omitted, as it tends to double all the advantages of the exercise, both to the teacher and the pupil. It will be found in general, especially in morals, that every practical lesson that is drawn from a truth or passage, actually embodies two,—both of which are equally legitimate and connected with the subject. There is always a negative lesson implied, when the positive lesson is expressed; and there is in like manner a positive implied, whenever it is the negative that is expressed. As for example, when the child, from the history of Cain and Abel, draws the negative lesson that he should not hate his brother; the opposite of that lesson is equally binding in the positive form, that he should love his brother. And when, from the history of Job, the positive lesson is drawn that we ought to be patient; the negative of that lesson becomes equally binding, and the child may, by the very same fact, be taught and enjoined not to be fretful, discontented, or impatient, during sickness or trouble. Of this method of multiplying the practical uses of knowledge, we have a most appropriate example in the Assembly's Larger and Shorter Catechisms, where the illustrations given of the decalogue are conducted upon this important principle, and in a similar way.

CHAP. VIII.

On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Use of Knowledge
by means of the Animal or Common Sense.

A large portion of what has been advanced in the foregoing chapter, has reference to the practical application of all kinds of knowledge, whether by the Animal or Moral sense; and we shall here offer a few additional remarks on the teaching of those branches which are more immediately connected with the former.

When a person is sent to learn an art or trade, such as a carpenter, he is not sent to hear lectures, or to get merely an abstract knowledge of the several truths connected with it; but he is sent to practise the little knowledge that he is able of himself to pick up. His is a practical learning; ninety-nine parts in every hundred being employed in the practice, for one that is employed in acquiring the abstract principles of his occupation. When, on the contrary, a child is sent to school, to prepare him for this practical application of his knowledge, the former proportions are generally reversed, and ninety-nine parts of his time and labour are taken up in attaining abstract knowledge, for one that is occupied in assisting him to reduce it to practice. Both modes of teaching the boy are obviously wrong. He would, when sent to it, learn his business in much less time by a previous acquaintance with its principles; and all these ought to have been furnished him as a part of his general knowledge while he attended the school. Such information, indeed, ought to have formed a large portion of his education;—and it will be a matter of surprise to every one who closely considers the subject, how soon and how easily the principles, even of so complicated a trade as a carpenter, may be acquired when they are taught in the right way, and at the proper time. A few of the simplest principles in mechanics practically learned,—a knowledge of the strength and adhesion of bodies,—of the nature of edge tools,—and the importance of accuracy and caution, might have been made familiar to him while attending his studies; and if carefully and constantly reduced to practice, these would have been of the greatest service to him when called to the work-shop.

The methods by which natural philosophy ought to be taught in schools, must partake of all the laws which Nature employs in the several parts of her teaching. Individuation, Grouping, and especially Analysis, must be rigidly attended to. By dividing all the subjects of general knowledge into the two grand divisions of Terrestrial and Celestial, and these again into their several parts, the whole field of useful knowledge would be mapped out, and connected together, so that each subject would occupy a distinct place of its own, and be readily found when it was required. The facts, or at least the most useful facts connected with each of these, would very soon be communicated; and when turned into a popular and useful form, by drawing and applying the corresponding lessons, the ease and delight of laying up these precious stores of useful knowledge by children, will not be easily conceived by those who have not witnessed it.

With respect to the ease with which this method of communicating knowledge can be accomplished, we may remark in general, that when a principle has been explained, and has become familiar to the child, all the phenomena arising out of it, when pointed out, are readily perceived and retained upon the memory in connection with it. For example, by a knowledge of the principle which teaches that fluids press equally on all sides, when considered in connection with the weight of the atmosphere, a child, with very little trouble, would be put into the full possession of the cause of many facts in natural philosophy, exceedingly dissimilar in their appearance, but which are all mastered with ease and intelligence by a knowledge of this law. When the principle and its mode of working have been explained, the child is provided with a key, by which he may, in the exercise of his own powers, unlock one by one all the mysterious phenomena of the air and common pump, the cupping-glass, the barometer, the old steam and fire engine, the toy sucker and pop-gun, the walking of a fly on the ceiling, the ascent of smoke in the chimney, the sipping of tea from a cup, the sucking of a wound, and the true cause of the inspiration and expiration of the air in breathing. To teach these singly, would obviously be exceedingly troublesome to the teacher, and laborious for the child; but when thus linked together, as similar effects from the same cause, they are understood at once, and each of them helps to illustrate and explain all the others. They are received without confusion, and are remembered without difficulty. All this may in general be done even with children, as we shall immediately prove, by the method recommended above, of requiring, after the illustration of the principle, the lessons which it is calculated to teach.

The results of this simple method of imitating Nature in one of the most valuable of her processes, have been found remarkably uniform and successful; and when it shall be regularly brought into operation in connection with the other parts of the system, it promises to be still more valuable and extensive. But even already, with all the disadvantages of time, place, and persons, the importance and efficiency of the exercise have been highly satisfactory. We shall shortly advert to a few instances of its success, which have been publicly exhibited and recorded.

The criminals in the jail of Edinburgh, after three weeks teaching, had acquired a considerable degree of expertness in perceiving and drawing lessons from the moral circumstances which they read from Scripture. In the report of that experiment, the examinators say, "They gave a distinct account, (from the book of Genesis,) of the prominent facts, from Adam, down to the settlement in Goshen, and shewed by their answers, that the circumstances were understood by them, in their proper nature and bearings. From each peculiar circumstance, they deduced an appropriate lesson, calculated to guide their conduct, when placed in a like, or analogous situation. It is within the truth to allege, that in this part of their examination, they submitted upwards of fifty palpable lessons, that cannot fail, we would conceive, hereafter to have a powerful influence upon their affections and deportment."

In the experiments both in Newry and London, the children were found quite adequate to the exercise; and in the latter instance, three children, who at their first lesson did not know they had a soul, were able to perceive and to draw lessons from almost any moral truth or fact presented to them. This they did repeatedly when publicly examined by the Committee of the London Sunday School Union, in presence of a large body of clergymen, and a numerous congregation in the Poultry Chapel. But we shall at present direct attention more particularly to the children selected from the several schools in Aberdeen, as given in the Report by Principal Jack, and the Professors and Clergymen in that place. After mentioning, that these children, so very ignorant only eight days before, had acquired a thorough acquaintance with the leading facts in Old Testament History, they say, "From the various incidents in the Sacred Record, with which they had thus been brought so closely into contact, they drew, as they proceeded, a variety of practical lessons, evincing, that they clearly perceived, not only the nature and qualities of the actions, whether good or evil, of the persons there set before them, but the use that ought to be made of such descriptions of character, as examples or warnings, intended for application to the ordinary business of life.

"They were next examined, in the same way, on several sections of the New Testament, from which they had also learned to point out the practical lessons, so important and necessary for the regulation of the heart and life. The Meeting, as well as this Committee, were surprised at the minute and accurate acquaintance which they displayed with the multiplicity of objects presented to them,—at the great extent of the record over which they had travelled,—and at the facility with which they seemed to draw useful lessons from almost every occurrence mentioned in the passages which they had read."

They were able also to apply this same principle,—the practical application of useful knowledge,—to the perusal of civil history, and also biography. The report states, that "they were examined on that portion of the History of England, embraced by the reign of Charles I. and the Commonwealth; and from the details of this period, they drew from the same circumstances, or announcements, political, domestic, and personal lessons, as these applied to a nation, to a family, and to individuals;—lessons which it ought be the leading design of history to furnish, though, both by the writers and readers of history, this Committee are sorry to say, they are too generally overlooked.

"They were then examined on biography,—the Life of the late Rev. John Newton being chosen for that purpose; from whose history they also drew some very useful practical lessons, and seemed very desirous of enlarging, but had to be restrained, as the time would not permit."

The practicability and the importance of teaching children to apply the same valuable principle to every branch and portion of natural philosophy were also ascertained. The same report, after stating the fact, that the children scientifically described to the meeting numerous objects presented to them from the several kingdoms of Nature, goes on to say, that "here also they found no want of capacity or of materials for practical lessons. A boy, after describing copper as possessing poisonous qualities, and stating, that cooking utensils, as well as money, were made of it, was asked what practical lessons he could draw from these circumstances, replied, That no person should put halfpence in his mouth; and that people should take care to keep clean pans and kettles."

The common school boys in Newry also found no difficulty in the exercise, as applied to the abstruse and difficult sciences of anatomy and physiology. The account of that experiment, says, that they were "examined as to the uses which they ought to make of all this information, by drawing practical lessons from the several truths. Accordingly, announcements from the different branches of the science were given, from which they now very readily drew numerous and valuable practical lessons, several of which were given at this time of themselves, and which had not been previously taught them. These were drawn directly from the announcements; and all, according to their nature, calculated to be exceedingly useful for promoting the health, the comfort, and the general happiness of themselves, their friends, or their companions."

But by far the most extensive and satisfactory evidence of the value and efficiency of this exercise, in the mental and moral training of the young, was afforded by the experiment undertaken at the request of the Lesson System Association of Leith, and conducted in the Assembly Rooms there, in the presence of the Magistrates and Clergy of that town, of Bishop Russell, Lord Murray, (then Lord Advocate,) and a numerous meeting of the friends of education. The children were those connected with a Sabbath school, who had been regularly trained by their teacher, a plain but pious workman of the town, to draw lessons every Sabbath from the several subjects and passages of Scripture taught them. To give all the specimens which afford evidence of the value and efficiency of this exercise in the education of children, would be to transcribe the report of the Association; we shall therefore confine ourselves to a few of the circumstances only, which were taken in short-hand by a public reporter who was present.

After some important and satisfactory exercises on the being and attributes of God, from which the children drew many valuable practical lessons, it is said, that the examinator "expressed his entire satisfaction with the result, and remarked, that he himself was astonished, not only at the immense store of biblical knowledge possessed by these children, but the power which they possessed over it, and the facility with which they could, on any occasion, use it in 'giving a reason for the hope that is in them.' He then proceeded to the next subject of examination which had been prescribed to him, which was, to ascertain the extent of their mental powers and literary attainments, which would be most satisfactorily shown by their ability to read the Bible profitably; and for this purpose he requested that some of the clergymen present would suggest any passage from the New Testament on which to exercise them. The Rev. Dr Russell (now Bishop Russell,) suggested the parable of the labourers hired at different hours, Matt. xx. 1-16. Mr Gall accordingly read it distinctly, verse by verse, catechising the children as he proceeded, and then made them relate the whole in their own words, which they did most correctly.

"Mr Gall then selected some of the verses, and called upon them to separate the circumstances, or parts of each verse, and to state each as a separate proposition. This also they did with the greatest ease; and in some cases a variety of divisions were brought forward, thus proving the high intellectual powers which they had acquired, and the ease with which they could analyse any passage, however difficult.

"It was next to be ascertained what power the children had acquired of drawing lessons from Scripture; and for this purpose, Mr Gall, in order to husband the time of the meeting, confined the children's attention to one verse only, and proposed to submit each of the moral circumstances contained in that verse, one by one, as they themselves had divided it. The following are the lessons drawn by the children, as taken down in short-hand by the Reporter.

"Mr G.—The householder invited labourers at the eleventh hour;—what does that teach you?—It teaches us, that God at various seasons calls people to his church.—It teaches us, that we ought never to despair, but bear in mind the language of Jesus to the repentant thief on the cross,—'To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise.'—It teaches us, that we ought not to boast of to-morrow, since we know not what a day or an hour may bring forth.—It teaches us, that time is short, and that life is the only period for preparation and hope.—It teaches us, that we ought to be prepared,—have our loins girt, and our lamps burning; for we know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of Man cometh.—It teaches us, that we ought to number our days, and apply our hearts to heavenly wisdom.—It teaches us, that we ought not to put off the day of repentance; because for every day we put it off, we shall have one more to repent of, and one less to repent in.—It teaches us,

'That life is the season God hath given
To fly from hell, and rise to heaven;
That day of grace fleets fast away,
And none its rapid course can stay.'

"Mr Gall here requested the children to pause for a moment, that he might express the high gratification he felt at the fluency, the readiness, and the appropriateness of the lessons which they had drawn. He was only afraid that they had inadvertently fallen upon a passage with which the children were familiar, by having had it recently under their notice; and he therefore requested Mr Cameron to state to the meeting whether this was really the case or not. Mr Cameron rose and said, that what the meeting now saw was no more than could be seen any Sunday in the Charlotte Street School. They had not had any preparation for this meeting; and he did not remember of ever having had this passage taught in the school. He would recommend that the children be allowed a little freedom; and when they were done with that announcement, let any other be taken, for it was the same to them whatever subject might be chosen.

"Mr Gall accordingly repeated the announcement again, and called on them to proceed with any other lessons from it which occurred to them. They accordingly commenced again, and answered as follows: It teaches us, that we ought to remember our Creator in the days of our youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh in which we shall say we have no pleasure in them.—It teaches us, that we ought to prepare for death; to gird up our loins, and trim our lamps, lest it be said unto us in the great day of the Lord, when he maketh up his jewels, 'Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.'—It teaches us so to conduct ourselves, that whether we live we live unto the Lord, and whether we die we die unto the Lord; and that whether we live therefore or die, we may be the Lord's; for to that end Christ both died, and rose, and revived, that he might be Lord both of the dead and the living.[22]—It teaches us to improve our time lest we find that the harvest is past, and the summer ended, and us not saved.—It teaches us, that we ought to study, in that whether we eat or drink, or whatsoever we do, we do all to the glory of God.—It teaches us, that we ought to endeavour to secure an interest in Christ in time.—It teaches us, that delays are dangerous.—It teaches us, that the day of the Lord cometh like a thief in the night, and that when sinners shall say, 'Peace and safety,' sudden destruction cometh upon them.—It teaches us, that we ought to acquaint ourselves early with God; and that we ought to walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil.—It teaches us, that we ought to seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him while he is near; that the wicked ought to forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, who will have mercy upon him, and to our God, who will abundantly pardon.—It teaches us to improve our time; and to bear in mind, that though patriarchs lived long, the burden of the historian's tale is always, 'and they died.'—It teaches us, that we ought not to allow pleasures and enjoyments to interfere with, or overcome, our more important duty of seeking God.—It teaches us, that we are never too young to pray, and to remember that God says, 'Now;'—the devil, 'To-morrow.'

"Mr Gall here took advantage of a short pause, and said, 'We shall now change the announcement. Give me a few lessons from the fact stated in this parable, that when the husbandman invited the labourers into the vineyard at the eleventh hour, they accepted the invitation.—What does that teach you?'—It teaches us, that we ought to accept the invitation of Jesus to come with him, 'Ho! every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye buy and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money, and without price. Seek ye the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, who will have mercy upon him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.'—It teaches us, that we ought to show a willingness to accept the invitation of Christ, since 'he is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come unto him and live.'—It teaches us, that we ought to accept the invitation of Christ, since we are informed in the Scriptures, 'that whosoever cometh unto him he will in no ways cast out.' It teaches us, that we ought to accept of the invitation of Christ; for the Bible informs us, that the invitation is held forth to all; 'for whosoever will, let him take of the waters of life freely.'—'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'—It teaches us, that we ought not to hesitate in accepting the invitation of Christ; for God says he will not always strive with man.

"Mr Gall here again expressed not only his satisfaction, but his astonishment, at the success with which Mr Cameron had taught the Scriptures to these children. This exhibited itself in two ways; first, in enabling them to draw lessons from any passage of Scripture; and second, in having so disposed of what Scripture they had already been taught, that whenever a doctrine or duty was to be brought before them, scriptural declarations crowded around them 'as a light to their feet, and a lamp to their path.' He himself had no doubt that the children were no more prepared upon this passage than upon any other; but it would exhibit this fact more satisfactorily, if another passage were selected, which he requested some of the gentlemen present to do.

"The clergymen present accordingly requested Mr Gall to try the concluding portion of the second chapter of Luke, which details Christ's visit to Jerusalem at twelve years of age. After having read and catechised the children on this passage, as he had done on the former, he proceeded at once to call for lessons. Mr Gall gave us the announcement that 'Joseph and Mary worshipped God in public,' and asked for one or two lessons from this? It teaches us, that we ought to worship God both in public and in private.—It teaches us, that no trifles ought to hinder us from worshipping God.—One child quoted the following verse:—

'Come then, O house of Jacob, come,
And worship at his shrine!
And walking in the light of God,
With holy beauties shine.'

"Mr Gall then said, Let us change the announcement: 'Joseph and Mary went regularly every year to the feast of the passover?'—What does that teach you?—That teaches us, that we ought to attend the house of God regularly.—It teaches that we ought to attend church both times of the day.—It teaches us that we ought to worship God regularly; for God loveth order, and not confusion.

"Let us change the announcement again. 'Jesus attended the passover when he was twelve years of age.' What does this teach you?—It teaches us, that parents should train up their children in the way they should go.—It teaches us, that learning young is learning fair.—It teaches us, that children should never be thought too young to be brought up in the fear of the Lord.—It teaches us, that children should obey their parents.—What are we to learn from their 'fulfilling the days?'—It teaches us, that we should not leave the church until the sermon is over.—It teaches us, that we ought not to disturb others by leaving the church."

Remarkable as this exhibition was of the attainment of extraordinary mental power by mere children, yet it is but justice to say, that the above is merely a specimen of the elasticity and grasp of mind which these children had acquired. Some idea of the extent of this may be formed when it is considered, that all these passages and, subjects were chosen for them at the moment, and by strangers. And it is worthy of remark, that if such an amount of mental power, and such an accumulation of knowledge, of the best and most practical kind, were easily and pleasantly acquired by children in the lowest ranks of life, of their own voluntary choice, under every disadvantage, and with no more than two hours teaching in the week; what may we not expect, when the principles here developed, are wielded and applied by those who thoroughly understand them, not for two hours, with an interval of six busy days, but every day of the week?—The prospect is cheering.

FOOTNOTES:

[22] At this part, the Report of the Experiment contains the following Note:—"The reader will perceive that some of the lessons diverge at times from the announcement; but it is of great importance, in an experiment of this kind, neither to omit nor amend what is wrong, but to give exactly the words that were spoken. Not the least remarkable circumstance elicited by this experiment is the fact, that these children, who know nothing of the rules of grammar, have obviously, by the mental exercise induced by the system, become pretty correct practical grammarians. The variations made in many of the passages of Scripture quoted by them show this."

CHAP. IX.

On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Practical Use of Knowledge
by means of the Moral Sense, or Conscience.

In a former chapter we endeavoured to collect a few facts specially connected with the moral sense, as exhibited in the young, and the methods which Nature employs, when conscience is made use of for the application of their knowledge.[23] We shall in this chapter offer a few additional remarks on the imitation of Nature in this important department; but before doing so, it will be proper to clear our way by making a few preliminary observations.

No one disputes the general principle, that education is proper for man;—and if so, then education must be beneficial in all circumstances, and at every period of his life. In particular, were we to ask whether education were necessary in early childhood, and infancy, universal experience would at once answer the question, and would demonstrate, that it is much more necessary and more valuable at that season, than at any future period of the individual's life. In proof of this, we find, that enlightened restraint upon the temper, and a regulating care with regard to the conduct, are productive of the most beneficial results; while, on the contrary, when this discipline is neglected, the violence of self-will generally becomes so strong, and the checks upon the temper so weak, that the character of the child formed at this period may be such as to make him for life his own tormentor, and the pest of all with whom he is to be associated.—No one can reasonably deny this; and the conclusion is plain, that education of some kind or other is really more necessary for the infant and the child, than it is either for the youth or the man.

If this general principle be once admitted, and we set it down as an axiom that the infant and the child are to learn something,—it naturally follows, that we are required to teach them those useful things for which Nature has more especially fitted them; while we are forbidden to force branches of knowledge upon them of which they are incapable. Our object then, ought to be to ascertain both the positive and the negative of this proposition; endeavouring to find out what the infant and child are capable of learning, and what they are not. Now it is an important fact, not only that infants and young children are peculiarly fitted, by the constitution of their minds and affections, for learning and practising the principles of religion and morals; but it is still more remarkable, that they are, for a long period, incapable of learning or practising any thing else. If this can be established, then nothing can be more decisive as to the intention of Nature, that moral and religious training, is not only the great end in view by a course of education generally, but that it is, and ought always to be, the first object of the parent and teacher, and the only true and solid basis upon which they are to build all that is to follow. Let us therefore for a moment enquire a little more particularly into this important subject.

When we carefully examine the conduct of an enlightened and affectionate mother or nurse with the infant, as soon as it can distinguish right from wrong and good from evil, we find it to consist of two kinds, which are perfectly distinct from each other. The one regards the comfort and physical welfare of the child;—the other regards the regulation of its temper, its passions, and its conduct. It is of the latter only that we are here to speak.

When this moral training of the judicious mother is examined, we find it uniformly and entirely to consist in an indefatigable watchfulness in preventing or checking whatever is evil in the child, and in encouraging, and teaching, and training to the practice of whatever is good. She is careful to enforce obedience and submission in every case;—to win and encourage the indications of affection; to check retaliation or revenge; to subdue the violence of passion or inordinate desire;—to keep under every manifestation of self-will;—and to soothe down and banish every appearance of fretfulness and bad temper. In short, she trains her young charge to feel and to practise all the amiable and kindly affections of our nature, encouraging and commending him in their exercise;—while, on the contrary, she prevents, discourages, reproves, and if necessary punishes, the exhibition of dispositions and conduct of an opposite kind. This, as every one who has examined the subject knows, is the sum and substance of the mother's educational efforts during this early period of her child's progress;—and what we wish to press upon the observation of the reader is, that the child at this period is literally incapable of learning any thing else which at all deserves the name of education. He may be taught to be obedient; to be submissive; to be kind and obliging; to moderate, and even to suppress his passions; to controul his wishes and his will;—to be forbearing and forgiving;—and to be gentle, peaceable, orderly, cleanly, and perhaps mannerly. Is there any thing else?—Is there any one element of a different kind, that ever does, or ever can enter into the course of an infant or young child's education? If there be, what is it?—Let it be examined;—and we have no hesitation in saying, that if it be "education," or any thing that deserves the name, it will be found to resolve itself into some one or other of the moral qualities which we have above enumerated. If therefore children, during the earlier stages of their educational progress are to be taught at all, religion and morals must be, the subjects, seeing that they are for a long period capable of learning nothing else. And it is here worthy of especial notice, that in teaching religion and morals, there is a negative as well as a positive scale;—and experience has uniformly demonstrated, that if the parent or teacher neglect to improve the child by raising him in the positive side, he will, by his own efforts, sink deeper in the negative. Selfishness, as exhibited in the natural depravity of human nature, will in all such cases strengthen daily; and all the evil passions which selfishness and self-will call into exercise, will then be strengthened and confirmed perhaps for life.

But while we perceive that the young are incapable of learning any thing else than what is properly termed religion and morals, we find it to be equally true, that they are peculiarly fitted and furnished by Nature for making rapid and permanent progress whenever religion and morals are made the subjects of regular instruction and training. Few who have considered carefully the facts stated above, will question the accuracy of this assertion in so far as morals are concerned; but there are some who will doubt the capacity of infants and children to be influenced by religion. Now this doubt arises from not observing the difference,—and the only difference,—that exists between morality and religion. A man or a child is moral when he is kind and forgiving for his own sake, and to please himself or his parents;—but he is religious when he does the same thing for conscience sake, and to please God. Now children, by the very constitution of their minds, are well fitted for receiving all that kind of religious knowledge which acts upon the feelings, and influences the conduct; while the heart is peculiarly sensitive, and is disposed to bend under the influence of every expression of affection and tenderness exhibited by others towards them. Their faith in all that they are told, as we have seen, is unhesitating and entire; and the capacity of their lively imaginations, for comprehending things mighty and sublime, which is too often abused by the ideas of giants, and ogres, and ghosts, is sanctified and refined by hearing of the greatness, and goodness, and love of the great Creator of heaven and of earth. When they are informed of his affection and tenderness to them individually;—of his mercy and grace in saving them from the awful consequences of sin by the substitution of his own Son for their sakes;—of his numerous benefits, and his unceasing care;—of his constant presence with them though unseen; and of his hatred of sin, and his love of holiness;—there is no mixture of doubt to neutralize the effects of these truths; and they much more willingly and unreservedly give themselves up to their influence, than those who are older. Hence, the repeated declarations of our Lord, that "unless we become as little children, we shall in no case enter into the kingdom of God." A simple enumeration therefore of the benefits they have received from this kind and condescending heavenly Father, is well fitted to fill the heart of an unsophisticated child with affection and zeal,—and most powerfully to constrain him to avoid every thing that he is told will grieve and offend him, and to watch for opportunities to do what he now knows will honour and please him. This is religion; and it is peculiarly the religion of the young;—and that man or woman will be found most religious, who, both in spirit and in action, shall approach nearest to it in its purity and simplicity.

From all these considerations we see, that Nature has intended that the first part of the child's education shall consist almost exclusively of moral and religious training;—and this we think cannot be disputed by any one who considers the above facts dispassionately, or who will allow his mind to act as it ought to do under the influence of ascertained truth. We shall now therefore offer a few remarks on the manner in which this may most effectually be carried into effect; or, in other words, how Nature may most successfully be imitated in the application of knowledge by means of the moral sense.

1. The first thing to be observed here then is, that the early efforts of the parent or teacher are to be employed for disciplining the child under the influence of the executive powers of conscience.—The child is to be trained to the perfect government of his inclinations and temper, by a watchful attention on the part of the parent to every instance of their exhibition in his daily conduct, the regulation of the desires, the softening down of the passions, the eradicating of evil propensities, the restraining and overcoming the exercise of self-will, the converting of selfishness into benevolence, and the cultivating and strengthening of self-controul within, and of sympathy, and forbearance, and kindness to all without. These are the great ends which the parent and teacher are to have in view in all their dealings with the child. They are, in short, to take care that their pupil be reduced to a state of enlightened submission, and uniform obedience; and for that purpose, they are to employ all the means and the machinery provided by Nature, in the use of which she has afforded them abundant examples.

In the accomplishment of these ends, the agent employed has much in her power. It is a delicate, as well as an important work; and here, more than perhaps in any after period of the child's educational progress, an affectionate and enlightened agency is of the greatest importance. In that constant watchfulness and exertion, necessary to check or to controul the unceasing and often unreasonable desires of a froward child, there is naturally created in the mind of a hireling or a stranger, a feeling of irritation and dislike, which nothing but enlightened philanthropy, or high moral principle, will ever be able thoroughly to overcome;—and these qualifications are scarcely to be expected in those who are usually picked up to assist the mother during this important season. In families, Nature has graciously balanced this effect, and amply provided for it, in the deep-seated and unalterable affection of the parent. The mother then is the proper agent, selected and duly qualified by Nature for superintending this important work during this early period. The out-bursts and irregularities of natural depravity in the young, must be met by an unconquerable affection, exhibited in the exercise of gentleness, guided by firmness;—of kindness and forbearance, combined with a steady and an untiring perseverance. Irregularity or caprice in the nurse, may be the ruin of the morals of the child. The selection of assistance here is often requisite, and yet how few comparatively of those into whose hands children and infants are placed, possess the high qualifications necessary for this important occupation?[24] The parent who from any cause is prevented from taking charge of the superintendence of her offspring at this period, incurs a serious responsibility in the choice of her assistant; for if these qualifications be awanting, or, if they be not exercised by the nurse or the keeper, the happiness and moral welfare of the child during life are in imminent danger.

2. The child is not only to be trained to think and to act properly, but he must be trained to do so under the influence of motives. If this be neglected, we are not imitating Nature in her mode of applying knowledge by means of the moral sense. We have seen, as formerly noticed, that a child under the influence of conscience, has always a painful feeling of self-reproach, or remorse, after it has done wrong; and a delightful feeling of self-approval and joy, when it has done something that is praiseworthy. These are employed by Nature as powerful motives to prevent the repetition of the one, and to win the child to the frequent or regular performance of the other;—and this is their effect. In imitating her in this part of her educational process, we must in like manner follow in the spirit of this principle. There must be motives of action held out to the child; something that will tend to keep him from the commission of evil, and something that will stimulate and encourage him in doing good. Both are necessary, and therefore, neither of them should be neglected. What these motives ought to be, we shall immediately shew; but at present, we are anxious to establish the fact, that motives to do good, should be invariably employed with our pupils, as well as motives to avoid evil. In ordinary life, we generally find too much of the one, and too little of the other. The fear of punishment held out to prevent mischief or evil, is common enough; but there is seldom sufficient attention paid to the providing of proper incitements to the practice of virtue. Some, indeed, have gone the length of affirming that there ought to be no such incitement held out to the young; under the erroneous idea, that actions performed for an equivalent, or in the hope of a reward, cease to be virtuous. But the same reasoning would apply with almost equal force to the fear of punishment in stimulating to duty, or in deterring from wickedness; and yet they would scarcely affirm, that the child who, for fear of the consequences, refused to break the Sabbath or to tell a lie, was equally guilty with the boy who did both. There are, no doubt, some motives to virtue that are higher and more noble than others, as there are differences in the degrading nature of punishment employed to deter men from vice. But both kinds may be necessary for different persons. The man who forgives his enemy because he seeks the approbation of his Maker and the reward promised by him, and the man who does so, because he wishes to live in quiet, and to consult his own ease;—the boy who refrains from sin lest he should offend God, and another who does the same from the fear of the rod,—are each influenced by motives, although they are of a very different kind. But it is plain, that the motives employed may be equally efficient, and that they ought to be used according to their influence upon the individual, and his advancement in the paths of morality and religion. Where the higher motive has not as yet acquired influence, the lower motive must be employed; but to refuse the employment of either would be wrong, and the sentiment which would totally exclude them, has no countenance in Nature, in experience, nor in Scripture. In Nature, we see the directly opposite principle exhibited; and find that the remorse of conscience consequent upon crime, in preventing future transgressions, is not more powerful in those whose moral status is low, than is the feeling of delight and joy after an act of benevolence, which excites to new deeds of charity, in those whose religious attainments are greater. Scripture, and the history of all those whom Scripture holds out for imitation, unite in teaching the same sentiment. There are many more promises in the sacred record given to virtue, than there are threatenings against vice; and the highest altitudes of holiness are not only represented as having been attained by the influence of these promises; but the persons who have already reached them, are still urged to greater exertions, and a farther advance, by the reiteration of their number and their value. Moses, we are told, "had an eye to the recompense of reward;" and our Lord himself, "for the joy that was set before him," endured the cross. Let us not then attempt a better method than God has sanctioned; and in our intercourse with the young, let us not only deter them from the commission of evil by the fear of disfavour or the rod, but let us also incite them to virtue, by the hope of approbation and of a future reward.

3. In our enquiry into the practical working of the moral sense, we found, not only that there were motives of action employed for encouraging the pupil to virtue, and for deterring him from vice; but we found also, that these motives referred chiefly to God, to a future judgment, and to eternity. In our attempts to imitate Nature in this particular feature of her dealing with the moral sense, we begin more distinctly to perceive the high value of Religious Instruction to the young, and are led directly to the conclusion, that the motives to be employed with children for encouraging and rewarding good conduct, must be those chiefly of a spiritual kind, referring to God, and to his favour or disapprobation, rather than to the rod, or to any secular reward. The importance of imitating Nature in this matter, for giving a high tone both to the sentiments and to the morals of the young, is very great. It is now generally admitted, that secular, and especially corporal punishments, are never required, except in connection with a very low and degraded state of the moral sentiments; but it is equally correct with respect to secular rewards for moral actions. They may both of them at times be necessary, but in that case they are necessary evils; and, as a class of motives, they should never be the rule, but invariably the exception.—We must not, however, be misunderstood. We are no more for abandoning secular rewards, than we are for giving up corporal punishments. We speak not here of their abandonment, but of their enlightened regulation;—both of them may be of service. But what we wish to point out as an important feature in moral training is, that they are, or should be, but seldom necessary; and that they ought never to be resorted to except when they really are so. The differences observable in the results arising from secular, and those from moral motives, are very different, both as regards their power in restraining from vice, and their influence in stimulating to virtue. What, for example, would we think of the moral condition of a child, or of the virtue of his actions, if he had to be hired by a comfit, or a piece of money, to do every act of kindness which he performed; or if he refused to relieve a sister, or prevent an injury to his companion, unless similarly rewarded? This secular spirit in morals, when thus exposed in its deformity, is obnoxious to every sentiment of virtue, and shews itself to be a mere system of buying and selling. But how very different does the reward appear, and the feeling which it excites, when that reward assumes the moral character, and is found to be the desire of pleasing the parent, and much more when it seeks the approbation of the Almighty? Every one will see how beneficial and elevating the effects of cherishing the one must be, and how debasing comparatively is the influence of the other. That children are capable of being acted upon by these higher motives, we have already seen; and, when we aim at securing the effects which they are calculated to produce, we are closely imitating Nature in one of her most important operations, and may therefore calculate upon a corresponding degree of success.[25]

4. In the operations of Nature by means of the moral sense, we found, that the impressions made upon the mind in reference to sin or duty, were always most efficient, and most permanent, when the sin or duty was presented to them in the form of example;—that the example increased in efficiency and interest as it was familiar or near;—and that it became still more powerful when it was actually seen or experienced.—From these circumstances we are led to conclude, that the lives and conduct of men, and especially the narrative parts of Scripture, are the proper materials to be employed in the moral training of the young; and the mode of making use of them is also very plainly indicated. The closer we can bring the lesson taught to the child's own experience, or to his own circumstances, the more familiar will it become, and the deeper will be the impression it will make. An instance of infant disinterestedness or heroism, in the parlour or the play-ground, pointed out, and placed in connection with corresponding circumstances in the lives or conduct of those from whom they have previously drawn moral lessons, will render the latter much more familiar and practical, and will create more energetic desires, and stronger feelings of emulation with respect to the former. Or if the conduct of the person of whom the child hears or reads, can be brought home and applied to his own case and circumstances; or if he can be made to perceive the very same dispositions or conduct exhibited in his companions; or if he can be made to see how he himself can embody in his own conduct those principles and actions which God has approved, and requires to be imitated,—the end of the teacher will be much more certainly gained, than it can be in any other way. This is moral training, conducted by the proper moral means; and to attempt to gain the same end by means which do not either more or less embody these principles, will be found to be much more difficult, and much less efficient. Whoever will consider what is implied by our Lord's address to the Pharisees who erroneously blamed his disciples for unlawfully, as they thought, plucking the ears of corn on the Sabbath, will see this method of reading and applying Scripture distinctly pointed out. "Have ye never read," said our Lord, "what David did, and those who were with him?" This they might have done frequently; but the mere reading could never answer the purpose for which it was recorded. The moral lesson must be drawn, and it must also be applied to similar cases of mere ceremonial observance.

To apply this principle, then, to the moral training of the young by means of Scripture History, the method is obvious.—The events of the narrative are to be used as examples or warnings to the child in corresponding circumstances. If, for example, the teacher wishes to enforce the duty and the benefits of patience, the history of Job has been provided for the purpose. When that story is taught, and the lessons drawn and applied to the ordinary contingencies of life, such as accident, disease, or distress in a companion; or to circumstances in which the child himself may hereafter be placed; he will be better prepared for his duty in such events, or, in the words of Scripture, he will be "thoroughly furnished" to this good work. If they are to be taught meekness, the history of Moses, or of other pious men who have been tried and disciplined as he was, will be found best adapted for the purpose. And more especially, the life of our Lord, in which all the virtues concentrate, has been given "as our example, that we may follow his steps," and which ought especially to be employed in training the young "to love and to good works." The reason why example is preferable to precept in teaching children, will be obvious, when we consider the nature of the principle of grouping, as exercised by the young, and the difficulty they experience in remembering abstract or didactic subjects. When a child receives instruction by a story, the imagination is enlisted in the exercise, the grouping of the persons and circumstances assists the memory, and the moral and practical lessons which they have drawn from the narrative, are associated with it, and remain ready at the command of the will whenever they are required.—It was for this reason among others, that our Lord taught so frequently by parables; and, in doing so, has not only set the parent and teacher an important example, but has, in his teaching, illustrated a principle in our nature which he himself had long before implanted for this very purpose.

5. In our investigations into the working of the moral sense, we found, that there was a marked difference between the decisions of conscience when judging of actions done by ourselves, and those which were performed by others. As long as the child is innocent of any particular vice, he can judge impartially of its nature and demerit; but when the temptation to commit it has really begun to darken his mind, and more particularly when he has at last fallen before it, all the selfish principles of his nature are employed to deceive his better judgment, and to drown or overbear the voice of conscience within him. From this we learn the importance of preparing the mind beforehand, for encountering those temptations to which the pupil will most likely be exposed; not only by teaching him to draw the proper lessons from corresponding subjects, but by making him apply these lessons to his own case and affairs. The teacher is to suppose circumstances, in which he, his parents, and companions, are most likely to be placed, and in which the lessons drawn from the narrative will be required to weaken or to prevent the influences of temptation. As, for example, it might be asked, "If you had accidentally broken a pane of glass, and your parents asked you who did it, what should you do?" There would in this case, while it was only supposed, be no temptation to stifle conscience, or to bend to the influences of selfishness or fear, and the child would accordingly answer readily, that he ought to confess his fault, and tell that he himself had done it. When again asked, "From what do you get that lesson?" he will most probably reply, "From Jacob telling a lie to his parent;—from Ananias and Sapphira telling a lie;—from the command, 'Lie not one to another,' and 'Confess your faults one to another,'" &c. By this means the child is forewarned;—he is prepared and fortified against the sin, if the temptation should occur; but which would not have been the case without this or some similar exercise.

6. We have also seen, in our investigations into the working of the moral sense, the deplorable effects of stifling conscience, and of the child's being permitted to repeat his transgressions; while, upon the same principle, the most beneficial consequences result from the child's frequently practising self-denial, self-controul, and acts of benevolence. In the one case, sin and vice lose much of their deformity, and gain greatly in strength; while, in the other, every act of virtue makes vice appear more hideous, and excites to a more decided advance in the paths of rectitude. From these circumstances we are led to conclude, that every act of sin in the pupil ought to be carefully guarded against by the parent or teacher, and, if possible, prevented; while every exertion ought to be made to induce to the performance of good and kind actions, however humble or unimportant these actions in themselves may be. If God does "not despise the day of small things," neither should we; and one act of kindness by a child, however trifling, will most assuredly prepare the way for another. This circumstance also shews the impropriety of attempting to magnify faults, when perhaps no fault was designed; and the evil consequences, as well as the injustice, of refraining to commend a child, when commendation is due. The timorous fear, in many conscientious parents, of making children vain, is the common excuse for this unnatural conduct. Such persons seem to confound things vain with things valuable, though they are perfectly opposed to each other. Approbation for any definite quality, excites the individual to excel in that quality, whether it be worthless or otherwise. But virtuous deeds are not worthless; and by commending, as our Lord repeatedly did, those who have done well, they, by that principle of our nature of which we are here speaking, are strongly excited to do better. To feed vanity, is to commend vanities; and they who prize and commend beauty, or fashion, or dress, or frivolous accomplishments, may be guilty of this folly; but not the parent or the person who commends in a child those things which are really commendable, and after which it is his greatest glory to aspire.

7. We have already taken notice of Nature's mode of employing motives for the prevention of evil, and for the encouragement of the child in virtue, and how this is to be imitated in the education of the young; but we have left for this last section, and for separate consideration, the greatest and most powerful motive of all. This is a view of the inherent sinfulness and danger of sin, and the means appointed by God for man's redemption from it. All other motives to restrain men from sin, and to induce them to follow holiness, when compared with an enlightened view of this one, sink into insignificance. God's hatred of sin, and his holy abhorrence of it in every form, when contemplated in the abstract, may have a response from the head of him who compares it with his own detestation of meanness, and fraud, and profligacy; but when this hatred of vice in the Almighty is viewed in connection with gospel truth, and is contemplated in its effects upon One to whom it was only imputed, it begins to wear a very different complexion; and, as a motive to beware of that which God is determined to punish, and which he would not pass over even in his own Son, it leaves all other motives at an immeasurable distance. The same thing may be said of God's goodness and mercy in the gospel, as a motive for us to love him, and to glory in denying ourselves to serve him. The extent of the danger from which he has saved us, the amount and the permanence of the glory which he has procured for us, and the price that was paid for both, will powerfully "constrain" spiritual minds, to "live no longer to themselves, but to him who hath died for them."

But the question which will be asked here is, "Are children capable of all this?"—We unhesitatingly answer, from long experience, that they are. Whoever doubts the fact has only to try. Can a child not understand that a distinction ought to be made between the person in a family who endeavours to make all happy, and another whose constant aim is to make them all miserable?—Can he not understand, that the parent who refuses to punish a wicked child, is in effect bribing others to join him in his wickedness?—Can he not understand that a debt due by one, may be paid by another?—and that a simple reliance on the word of his benefactor, followed by submission to his will, may be all that is required to secure his discharge?—No one will say that a child is incapable of understanding these simple truths; and if he can comprehend them, he can be made to understand and appreciate the leading truths of the gospel. The teacher has only himself clearly to perceive them; and then, divesting the truths of those unnecessary technicalities which are sometimes, it is feared, used very improperly and unnecessarily, he ought to convey them to the child, either orally, or by some simple catechism suited for the purpose. Wherever this is done in effect, there education will prosper; and when it shall become general among the young, it will be found to be "as life from the dead."

FOOTNOTES:

[23] See pages 111 to 129

[24] Note X.

[25] Note Y.

CHAP. X.

On the Application of our Knowledge to the Common Affairs of Life.

There is another point connected with the practical use of our knowledge, which deserves a separate and careful consideration. It is the method of applying our knowledge, or rather the lessons derived from our knowledge, to the common and daily affairs of life. In this exercise both old and young are equally concerned;—but it is evident that youth is the proper time for training to its practice.

To acquire this valuable art, the pupils in every seminary ought to be regularly and frequently exercised in the application of their lessons;—first, when they have been drawn from a particular subject, which has occupied their attention for the day; and afterwards generally, from any part of their previous knowledge. To illustrate what we mean by this application of our knowledge, let us suppose a person placed in difficult circumstances, and that he is desirous of knowing the path of duty, and the particular line of conduct which he should pursue. If he is to trust to himself for the information required, it is evident that he must either fall back upon his previous knowledge, and the instructions he has already received; or he must go forward upon a mere conjecture, or on chance, which is always dangerous. All knowledge is given expressly for such cases, and especially Scripture knowledge; the great design of which is, "that the man of God may be thoroughly furnished to good works." But if the person has not been trained to make use of his knowledge in this way and for this purpose, he will be nearly as much at a loss as if his knowledge had never been received. Hence the great importance of training the young early and constantly to draw upon their knowledge for direction and guidance in every variety of situation in which the parent or teacher can suppose them to be placed in future life. By this means they will be prepared for encountering temptation, which is often more than the half of the battle;—they will form the habit of acting by rule, instead of being carried forward by fashion, by prejudice, or by chance;—and they will soon acquire a manly confidence, in deciding and acting, both as to the matter and the manner, of performing all that they are called upon to do, in every juncture, and whether the duty be important in the ordinary sense of that term or otherwise.

For this special mode of applying knowledge, we have not only the indications plainly given in Nature, which we have endeavoured to illustrate, but we have also Scripture precept, and Scripture example. Leaving the numerous instances in the Old Testament, we shall confine ourselves to a few given by our Lord himself, and his apostles. For example, he prepared his disciples for the temptations which the love of worldly goods would throw in the way of their escape from the destruction of Jerusalem, by enjoining them to "Remember Lot's wife." Now let us observe how a teacher, in communicating the history of Lot's wife for the first time, would have prepared these disciples for such a difficulty in the same way. When they had read, that while fleeing for her life, the love of her worldly goods made her sinfully look back, so that she was turned into a pillar of salt; the obvious lesson drawn from this would be, that "we ought to be on our guard against worldly mindedness;"—and the application of that lesson to the coming circumstances would have been something like this. "When you are commanded to flee from Jerusalem for your lives, and remember that your worldly goods are left behind, what should you do?"—"We should not turn back for them." "From what do you get that lesson?"—"From the conduct and fate of Lot's wife."

In a similar way, the apostle James prepared Christians for humble resignation and patient endurance under coming trials, by calling to their remembrance "the patience of Job." He stated the trials to which they were to be exposed, and then he directed their attention to the Scripture example which was to regulate them in their endurance of them. Now it is obvious that a teacher, in communicating the history of Job to the young, should follow this example, and should make the same use of it that the apostle did, not only by drawing the lesson, that he "ought to be patient," but in applying that lesson to temptations to which the child is likely to be exposed, as James did to the circumstances in which he knew Christians were to be placed. As for example, when the child had drawn the lesson, that "we should be patient under suffering," the teacher might apply it in a great variety of ways, each of which would be a delightful exercise of mind to the child,—would impress the lesson and its source more firmly upon the memory,—and would prepare him for the circumstances in which the lesson might be required. Were the teacher accordingly to ask, "If you were confined by long continued sickness;—or if you were suffering under great pain;—or if you were oppressed by the cruelty of others, and could not help yourself;—or, if you were grieved by being separated from your friends,—what would be your duty?" The answer to each would be, "We ought to be patient."—"From what do you get that lesson?"—"From the conduct of Job, who was patient under his sufferings."

The apostle Paul follows a similar plan, in applying the practical lessons drawn from the conduct of the Israelites in the wilderness, for fortifying the Corinthians against temptations to which they were likely to be exposed,[26] and tells them that this is the use to be made of Old Testament history. These lives are "ensamples," and are "written for our admonition upon whom the ends of the world are come."—In like manner he forewarned the Hebrews against discontent and covetousness,[27] by drawing a general lesson from a special promise made to Joshua; and then exhorts every Christian to apply it to himself personally, by employing the language which he puts into their mouths, "The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man can do unto me."

In the same way, when our Lord repeatedly says, "Have ye not read?" and, "Thus it is written," he gives us obvious indications of the importance of the duty of thus preparing for temptation, by the application of our lessons from Scripture. They are each and all of them examples of practical lessons derived from knowledge formerly acquired, and now employed in the way of application, to connect that knowledge with corresponding circumstances as they occur in ordinary life. The lesson, it will be observed, and as we formerly explained, is always made the connecting link which unites the two; and without which there is no such thing as the bringing of knowledge and its use together, when that knowledge is required. In other words, without the lesson, knowledge is useless; and, without the application of the lesson, knowledge is never used. Both therefore are necessary, and both should be rendered familiar to the young. It is only necessary here to observe, that in teaching the children to draw the lessons, the teacher proceeds forwards from the knowledge communicated, and, by deducing the lesson, prepares the child for the events in life when they shall be necessary;—but in applying the lessons, he proceeds backwards, from the events, through the lesson to the knowledge from which it is derived. We have a beautiful example of this in the recorded temptations of our Lord. He was tempted to turn stones into bread; here was the event which required a knowledge of the corresponding duty; and he immediately applied the lesson that "we should not distrust God," and through this lesson, though not expressed, he went directly back to the source from which it was drawn, by saying, "Thus it is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word of God." When in like manner he was tempted to throw himself from the temple, he immediately, through the lesson "that we should not unnecessarily presume on the goodness of God," went to the passage of Scripture from which it was drawn;—and, in the same way, when tempted to worship Satan, there was precisely the same process;—a lesson, derived from previous knowledge and applicable to the circumstances, used as a uniting link to make the duty and the Scripture exactly to correspond.

Of doing all this which we have described above; even children are capable. This has been again and again proved by repeated experiments, and now by extensive experience in many schools. The difficulties of introducing it, even for the first time in any seminary, do not lie with the children, who in every case have shewn themselves quite adequate to the exercise; and wherever it has been followed up with corresponding energy, they have been raised much higher in the grade of intelligence and mental capacity by its means. This will be evident from the following, taken from among many examples.

The criminals in Edinburgh Jail during the short time they were under instruction, acquired considerable facility in this valuable art. The report states, that "some of them were afterwards exercised on the application of the lessons. This part consists in supposing certain circumstances and temptations, to which they may be exposed in ordinary life, and then leaving them, by a very profitable, and usually a very pleasant operation of their own minds, in reference to these, to call up to their recollection, and to hold in review, the whole accumulated range of their previous knowledge. Among the various classes of things thus brought in order before the eye of the mind, they are easily taught to discriminate all those precepts and examples which are analogous to the cases supposed, from which again they very readily select appropriate lessons to guide them in these emergencies; thus linking the lessons to the circumstances, which is done in the previous exercise of deducing them; and then the circumstances to the lessons; and in this manner, establishing a double tie between the understanding and the conscience.

"For example, a woman from the Lock-up House, being asked how she ought to conduct herself when the term of her confinement was expired? answered, That she ought not to return to her sinful courses, or wicked companions, lest a worse fate should befal her. When again interrogated where she got this lesson, she immediately referred to the case of Lot, who, being once rescued from captivity by Abraham, returned again to wicked Sodom, where he soon lost all his property, and escaped only with his life. Another being asked what she should do, when involved in a quarrel with troublesome companions? replied, That she should endeavour to be at peace, even though she should lose a little by it; and produced as her authority the conduct of Abraham, who when Lot's herdsmen and his could not agree, gave Lot his choice of the country, in order to secure peace."

The children in Aberdeen also found no difficulty in perceiving the use, and in applying the lessons to their common affairs. The report of that Experiment states, that "the most important part of the exercise,—that which shewed more particularly the great value of this System, and with which the Meeting were especially struck,—was the appropriate application of the lessons from Scripture, which they had previously drawn. They were desired to suppose themselves placed in a great variety of situations, and were asked how they ought to conduct themselves in each of these. A few examples may be given, though it is quite impossible to do justice to the subject. A boy, for instance, was asked, 'If your parents should become infirm and poor, how ought you to act towards them?' 'I ought,' replied the boy, 'to work, and help them.' And being asked, 'Whence he drew that lesson?' he referred to the conduct of Ruth, who supported Naomi and herself, by gleaning in the fields.—A girl was asked, 'If your mother were busy, and had more to do in the family than she could easily accomplish, what ought you to do?' Her answer was, 'I ought to give her assistance;' and she referred to the conduct of Saul, in assisting his father to recover the asses which were lost; and to that of David, in feeding his father's sheep when his brothers were at the wars.—A little boy was asked, 'If your parents were too indulgent, and seemed to give you all your own will, what ought you to do?' 'I ought not to take it,' replied the boy very readily; and added, that it was taking his own will that caused the ruin of the prodigal son. Another boy being asked, 'If you should become rich, what would be your duty to the poor?' answered, 'I ought to be good to the poor; but it would be better to give them work than to give them money; for Boaz did not give Ruth grain, but bade his shearers let some fall, that she might get it by her own industry.'"

In the Experiment in London, a child was asked, "When you live with brothers and sisters who are wicked, what should you do?" and answered, "I should not join with them in their sins." And when asked where she got that lesson, answered, "From Joseph, who would not join with his brothers in their sin."—Another was asked, "When you see others going heedlessly on in the commission of sin, what should you do?" and answered, "I should warn them of their danger;" and referred to Noah, who warned the wicked while building the ark.—Again, "When people about you are given to quarrel, what should you do?" We should endeavour to make peace; and referred to Abram endeavouring to remain at peace with Lot's herdsmen.—"When you have grown up to be men and women, what should you do?" "We should go to a trade, and be industrious;" and referred to Cain and Abel following their different employments.—"When two situations occur, one where you will get more money, but where the people are wicked and ungodly; and the other, where you will get less money, but have better company, which should you choose?" "The good company, though with less money;" and referred to Lot's desire for riches taking him to live in wicked Sodom, where he lost all that he had.—"When your parents get old, and are unable to support themselves, what should you do?" "We should work for them;" and referred to Ruth gleaning for the support of her old mother-in-law; and another referred to Joseph bringing his father to nourish him in Goshen.—"When your parents or masters give you any important work or duty to perform, what should you do?" "We should pray to God for success, and for his direction and help in performing it;" and referred to Abraham's servant praying at the well.—"When we find people wishing to take advantage of us and cheat us, what should we do?" "Leave them;" and referred to Jacob with his family leaving Laban.—"Were any one to tempt you to lie or commit a sin, what should you do?" "We ought not to be tempted;" and referred to Abraham making Sarah tell a lie in Egypt.—"How should you behave to strangers?" "We should be kind to them;" and referred to Lot lodging the angels.—"Were a master or mistress to have the choice of two servants, one clever, but ungodly, and the other not so clever, but pious, which one should be chosen?" "The pious servant;" and referred to Potiphar, whom God blessed and prospered for Joseph's sake.—"When any one has injured us, what should we do?" "Forgive them;" and referred to Joseph forgiving and nourishing his brethren.—"When you have once escaped the snares and designs of bad company, what should you do?" "We should never go back again;" and referred to Lot going back again to live in Sodom from which he at last escaped only with his life.

In the account given of the Newry Experiment, the boys were equally ready in applying for their own benefit the lessons they had drawn from their knowledge of anatomy and physiology. The account says, that "the most interesting, as well as the most edifying part of the examination, and which exhibited the great value of this method of teaching the sciences to the young, was the application of these lessons to the circumstances of ordinary life. Circumstances were supposed, in which they or others might be placed, and they were required to apply the lessons they had drawn for their direction, and for regulating their conduct in every such case. This they did with great sagacity, and evident delight, and in a manner which convinced the audience that the few hours during which they had been employed in making these acquisitions, instead of being irksome and laborious, as education is too often considered by the young, were obviously among the happiest and the shortest they had ever spent in almost any employment,—their play not excepted. We shall give a specimen of these, and the answers given, as nearly as can be recollected.

"The case of walking in a frosty day was supposed, and they were asked what, in that case, ought to be done? The answer was, That we should take care not to fall. Why? Because the bones are easily broken in frosty weather.—When heated and feverish in a close room, what should be done? Let in fresh air; because it is the want of oxygen in the air we breathe that causes such a feeling, but which the admission of fresh air supplies.—When troubled with listlessness, and impeded circulation, what should we do? Take exercise; because the contraction of the muscles by walking, working, or otherwise, forces the blood to the heart, and through the lungs, by which health and vigour is promoted.—Where should we take exercise? In the country, or in the open air; because there the air is purer than in a house or a town, where fires, smoke, frequent breathing, and other things, render the atmosphere unwholesome.—Would breathing rapidly, without exercise, not nourish the blood equally well? No; because although more air be drawn into the lungs, there would be no more blood to combine with its oxygen.—What should be done, when candles in a crowded church burn dim, although they do not need snuffing? Let in fresh air; because the air is then unwholesome for want of oxygen; which, carried to a great extent, would cause fainting in the people, and would extinguish the candles themselves.—When a fire is like to go out, what should be done? Blow it up with bellows. Why not by the mouth? Because the air blown from the lungs has lost great part of its oxygen, by which alone the fire burns. Why then does a fire blown with the mouth burn at all? Because part of the oxygen remains, said one boy; and another added, "and because part of the surrounding air is blown in along with it."

At the second meeting with these boys, occasioned by the unexpected circumstances formerly alluded to, they were summarily, and without previous notice, taken from their school to another public meeting, without knowing for what purpose they were brought, and had to undergo a still more searching examination on what they had been previously taught. Here again they shewed their dexterity in making use of their lessons, by the application of them, and proved that they had been doing so to themselves in the intercourse which they had had with their relations at home. The account goes on to say, that "they were then more fully and searchingly examined than at first; and there being more time, they were much longer under the exercise. It was then found, that the information formerly communicated was not only remembered, but that the several truths were much more familiar, in themselves and in their connection with each other, than they had been at the former meeting. This had evidently arisen from their own frequent meditations upon them since that time, and their application of the several lessons, either with one another, their parents, or themselves. The medical gentlemen were again present, and professed themselves equally pleased. The lessons, with considerable additions, were also given, and the applications especially were greatly extended. In these last they appeared to be perfectly at home; and relevant circumstances might have been multiplied for double the time, without their having any difficulty in applying the lessons, and giving a reason for their application."

But the most satisfactory of all the experiments on this point, as implying the possession of a well-cultivated mind, holding at command an extensive field of useful knowledge, was the one in Leith, although from accident, or inadvertence on the part of the reporter, a large portion of it has been lost to the public. The following fragment, however, will be sufficient to shew its nature and its value. The examinator wished "to ascertain the power which the children possessed of applying the passage to their own conduct; and for this purpose, he proposed several circumstances in which they might be placed, and asked them to show how this portion of Scripture directed them to act.—Supposing, said he, that your father and mother were to neglect to take you to church next Sunday, would that be wrong?—Yes.—From what do you get that lesson? And when he was twelve years old, they went up to Jerusalem after the custom of the feast.—Is it right that children should go to church with their parents? Yes.—Why? Because Jesus went with his parents.—Would it be right for you to go out of church during the time of the service? No.—Why? Joseph and Mary remained till the service was over.

"The next point to be ascertained was, whether the children were able, not only to perceive what passages of Scripture were applicable in particular circumstances, but also to find out what circumstances in life those passages might be applied to. For this purpose, Mr Gall asked, 'Could you tell me any circumstances which may happen, in which you may be called on to remember that Joseph and Mary attended public worship?'—If a friend were to take dinner or tea with us, that should not detain us from attending church.—Idle amusements should not detain us from church; and nothing should keep us from it but sickness.

"Mr Gall again expressed his unabated satisfaction at the results of the examination, in proving the intellectual acquirements of the children. But so important did the application of the lessons appear to him, that he must trespass still further upon the time of the meeting by a more severe test of the children's practical training on this particular point. It was a test which he believed to be altogether new to them; but if they should succeed, it will prove still more satisfactorily, that their knowledge of Scripture has made it become, in reality, a light to their feet, and a lamp to their path.

"Mr Gall then produced a little narrative tract, which he read aloud to the children; and after the statement of each moral circumstance detailed in it, he asked the children whether it was right or wrong. When the children answered that it was right, he required them to prove that it was so, by some statement in the word of God, because the Bible should to them, and to every Christian, be the only standard of what is right and wrong; and so, in the same manner, when they said that it was wrong, he required them also to prove it from Scripture.

"As soon as the children perceived what was wanted, passages of Scripture, both of precept and example, were brought forward with as much readiness and discrimination as before. The only exception, was one or two quotations from the Shorter Catechism in proof of their positions, which were of course rejected, as deficient of the required authority."

The concluding remarks by the Right Honourable and Reverend reporters of the Experiment in Edinburgh, may with propriety be here given, as it is applicable, not only to prison discipline, but to education in general. "The result of this important experiment," they say, "was, in every point, satisfactory. Not only had much religious knowledge been acquired by the pupils, and that of the most substantial, and certainly the least evanescent kind; but it appeared to have been acquired with ease, and even with satisfaction—a circumstance of material importance in every case, but especially in that of adult prisoners. But the most uncommon and important feature of it was, the readiness which they, in this short period, had acquired of deducing Practical Lessons from what they had read or heard, for the regulation of their conduct. Every leading circumstance in Scripture, by this peculiar feature of the System, was made to reflect its light on the various common occurrences of ordinary life, by which the pupils themselves were enabled to judge of the real nature of each particular act, and to adopt, or to shun it, as the conscience thus enlightened should dictate. The acting and re-acting, indeed, of every branch of the System, upon each other, interweaves so thoroughly the lessons of Scripture with the feelings and thoughts of their minds, and associates them so closely with the common circumstances of life, that it is almost impossible that either the portions of the Bible which they have thus learned, or the practical lessons thus drawn from them, should, at any future period, escape from their remembrance. The evolutions of their future life, will disclose circumstances which they are prepared to meet, by having lessons laid up in store, adapted to such occurrences; and especially, when the mental habit is formed of applying Scripture in this manner, there is scarcely an event which can happen, but against its tempting influence they will be fortified by the armour of divine truth.—Their compliance with temptation, should that take place, will not be done without a compunction of conscience, arising from some pointed and warning example that comes in all its urgency before their minds;—and they will, when seduced from rectitude, have a light within them, and a clue of divine truth, to guide them out of the dark and mazy labyrinth of error and crime, into the path of duty and virtue. It is God alone that can bless such instruction, and render it savingly efficacious; but surely the inference is fair, that this System furnishes us with an instrument, which, if skilfully employed, will effect all that man can do for his erring brother or sister."

FOOTNOTES:

[26] 1 Cor. x. 1-11.

[27] Heb. xiii. 5, 6

CHAP. XI.

On the Imitation of Nature, in training her Pupils fluently to
communicate their Knowledge.

There is a fourth, or supplementary process in Nature's educational course, the successful imitation of which promises to be of great general benefit, as soon as it shall be universally adopted in our elementary schools. It is, as it were, the door-way of intellect,—the break in the cloud, through which the sun-light of concocted knowledge is to find its way, to enlighten and cheer the general community.—We refer to that acquirement, by which persons are enabled, without distraction of mind, internally to prepare and arrange their ideas, at the moment they are verbally communicating them to others.

When this process is analysed, we find, as explained in a former chapter, that it consists simply in an ability to think, and to arrange our thoughts at the time we are speaking;—to exercise the mind on one set of ideas, at the moment we are giving expression to another. Simple as this at first sight may appear, we have seen that it is but very gradually arrived at;—that many persons, otherwise possessing great abilities, never can command it;—that it is altogether an acquisition depending upon the use of proper means;—but that, at the same time, any person whatever, by submitting to the appropriate discipline, may attain almost any degree of perfection in its exercise. The object required by the teacher, therefore, is a series of exercises, by means of which his pupils will be trained to think and to speak at the same moment; to have their minds busily occupied with some object or idea, while their powers of speech are engaged in giving utterance to something else. For the purpose of suggesting such an exercise, we shall again attend shortly to the exhibition of the process, as we find it under the superintendence of Nature.

An infant, as we formerly explained, can for a long period utter only one or two words at a time,—not because it is unacquainted with more, but because it has not yet acquired the power of thinking the second word, while it is giving utterance to the first. It has to attain, by steady practice, and by slow degrees, the ability of commanding the thoughts, while uttering two, three, or more words consecutively, without a pause. A child also, whose mind is engaged with its toys, cannot for some time, during its early mental advances, attend to a speaker; much less can it think of, and arrange an answer to a question, while it continues its play. It has to stop, and think; it then gives the information required; and after this it will perhaps resume its play, but not sooner. When a child can speak and continue its amusements, it is an evidence of considerable mental power; and as Nature makes use of its play, for the purpose of increasing this ability, the teacher, and especially the parents, ought to excite and encourage every attempt at conversation while the pupil is so employed. But our object at present is to arrive at one or more regular exercises that shall embody the principle; exercises which may at all times be at the command, and under the controul of the teacher and parent, and which may form part of the daily useful arrangements of the school or the family. The following are a few, among many, which we shall briefly notice, before introducing one which promises to be still more beneficial, and more generally applicable to the economy of literary pursuits, and the arrangements of the academy.

One of the exercises which assists in attaining the end here in view, we have already alluded to, as being successfully employed by Nature for the purpose,—that is, the child's play. Any amusement which requires thought or attention, is well calculated to answer this purpose,—and if the child can be induced and trained to speak and play at the same time, his thinking powers being occupied by the external use of his toys, the end of the teacher will in so far be gained. Questions put to a child at that time, and answers given by him while he continues to exercise his mind upon his amusements, will prepare the way, and greatly assist in giving him the power of exercising it upon ideas, without the help of these external and tangible objects. The principle in both cases is the same, although in the one it is not carried out to the same extent as it is in the other. And here we cannot help remarking, how extensive and important a field the working of this principle opens up to the ingenious toy-man. If a game, or games, can be invented, where the child must have his attention occupied with one object, while he is obliged to answer questions, or to make observations, or to detail facts, or in any other way to employ his speaking powers extemporaneously, (not repeating words by rote,) the person who does so will greatly edify the young, and benefit the public.

Another method by which the principle may be called into exercise, is to tell a short story, or simple anecdote, and then to require the child to rehearse it again. In doing this, the mind of the child is employed in communing with the memory, while he is engaged in detailing to the teacher or monitor, the special circumstances in their order. Upon the principles of individuation and grouping, too, (the two most important principles, be it observed, which Nature employs with young children,) we can perceive, that it will be much easier for the child, and at least equally powerful in producing the effect, if the teacher or parent shall confine himself to one or two stories or anecdotes at a time, till, by repeated attempts, the child can in its own words, and in its own way, readily and fluently detail the whole of the circumstances to the parent or teacher, whenever required.

A similar mode of accomplishing the same object, when the child is able to read, is, to require him at home to peruse a story of some length, and to rehearse what he can remember of it next day. This ought, however, in every case to be a narrative, or anecdote, consisting of groupings which the child can, on reading, picture on his mind. If this be neglected, there is danger of the child's being harassed and burdened, without any corresponding benefit being produced. It is here also worthy of remark, that Dr Mayo's "Lessons on Objects" may be employed for this purpose with considerable effect. If a list of qualities, such as colour, consistence, texture, &c. be put into the child's hand, and he be required to elucidate and rehearse those relating to one particular object, either placed before him, or, what is better, one with which he is acquainted, but which at the time he does not see, the eye and the mind will be engaged with his paper, and in recollecting the particular qualities of the object, at the same time that he is employed in communicating his recollections.

Another method for producing the same end, consists in the parent or teacher repeating a sentence to the child, and requiring him to remember it, and to spell the several words in their order. Here the child has to remember the whole sentence, to observe the order of the several words, to chuse them one after another as he advances, and to remember and rehearse the letters of which each is composed. The mental exercise here is exceedingly useful, besides the advantages of training children to correct spelling. At the commencement of this exercise with a child, the sentence must be short, and he may be permitted to repeat each word after he has spelled it, which will help him to remember the word that follows;—but as he advances, he may be made to spell the whole without pronouncing the words; and the length of the sentence may be made to correspond with his ability. Great care however should be taken by the teacher that this exercise be correctly performed.

Many other methods for exercising the child's mind and oral powers at the same moment, will be suggested by the ingenuity of teachers, and by experience; and wherever a teacher hits upon one which he finds efficient, and which works well with his children, it is to be hoped that he will not deprive others of its benefit. Such communications in education, like mercy, are twice blessed. But the exercise which, for its simplicity and power, as well as for the extent of its application to the business and arrangements of the school, appears to answer the purpose best, and which embodies most extensively the stipulations required for the successful imitation of Nature in this part of her process, is that which has been termed the "Paraphrastic Exercise." The exercise here alluded to has this important recommendation in its practical working, that while it can be employed with the child who can read no more than a sentence, it may be so modified and extended, as to exercise the mental and oral powers of the best and cleverest of the scholars to their full extent. It consists in making a child read a sentence or passage aloud; and, while he is doing so, in requiring him at the same moment, to be actively employed in detecting and throwing out certain specified words in the passage, and in selecting, arranging, and substituting others in their place; the child still keeping to the precise meaning of the author, and studying and practising, as far as possible, simplicity, brevity, elegance, and grammatical accuracy. It may be asked, "What child will ever be able to do this?" We answer with confidence, that every sane pupil, by using the proper means, may attain it. This is no hypothesis, but a fact, of which the experiment in Leith gives good collateral proof, and of which long and uniform experience has afforded direct and ample evidence. Any teacher, or parent indeed, may by a single experiment upon the very dullest of his pupils who can read, be satisfied on the point. Such a child, by leaving out and paraphrasing first one word in a sentence, then two, three, or more, as he acquires ability, will derive all the advantages above described; and, by advancing in the exercise, he may have his talents taxed during the whole progress of his education to the full extent of their powers. It is in this that one great recommendation lies to this exercise,—it being adapted to every grade of intellect, from the child who can only paraphrase a single word at a time, to the student who, while glancing his eye over the passage, can give the scope of the whole in a perfectly new form, and in a language and style entirely his own. Of the nature and versatility of this exercise we shall give a single example.

Let us for this purpose suppose that a child sees in the first answer of the First Initiatory Catechism the words, "God at first created all things to shew his greatness," and that the teacher wishes to exercise his mind in the way, and upon the principle of which we are here speaking, by making him paraphrase it. He begins by ascertaining that the child knows the exact meaning of one or more of the several terms used in the sentence, and can give the meaning in other words. As for example, he should be able to explain that the first word means, "the Almighty;"—that the words at "first," here signifies, at "the beginning of time;"—that "created" means, "brought into existence;"—that the term "all things," as here used, indicates, "all the worlds in Nature, with their inhabitants;"—that the phrase to "shew," means to "exhibit to his rational creatures;"—and that his "greatness," at the close implies, his "infinite majesty and perfections."

Now it must be obvious, that any one of these explanations may be made familiar to the dullest child that can read; and if this can be done, the principle may immediately be brought into exercise. For example, when the child knows that the first word means "the Almighty," and that "first" is another way of expressing "the beginning of time," he is required to read the whole sentence, and in doing so, to throw out these two words, and to substitute their meanings. He will then at once read the sentence thus: "[The Almighty,] at [the beginning of time,] created all things to shew his greatness." The same thing may be done with any one or more of the others; and if the child at first feels any difficulty with two, the teacher has only, upon the principle of individuation, to make one of them familiar, before he be required to attend to a second; and to have two rendered easy before he goes forward to the third. Each explanation can be mastered in its turn, and may then be employed in forming the paraphrase; by which means the child's mind is called to the performance of double duty,—reading from his book,—throwing out the required words,—remembering their explanations,—inserting them regularly and grammatically,—and perhaps transposing, and re-constructing the whole sentence,—at the moment that he is giving utterance to that which the mind had previously arranged.

The same thing may be done with a sentence from any book, although not so systematically prepared for the purpose as the Initiatory Catechisms have been. The explanations of any of the words which may be pointed out, or under-scored by the teacher, can easily be mastered in the usual way by any of the children capable of reading them; and if he shall be gradually and regularly trained to do this frequently, his command of words, in expressing his own ideas, and his ability to use them correctly, will very soon become extensive and fluent. The importance of this to the young is much more valuable and necessary than is generally supposed. Nature evidently intends that childhood and youth should be the seed-time of language; and the exercise here recommended, when persevered in, is well calculated to produce an abundant harvest of words, suited for all kinds of oral communications.—Its importance in this respect, as well as its efficiency in fulfilling all the stipulations necessary for imitating Nature in the exercise of the principle which we are here illustrating, will be obvious to any reader by a very simple experiment.

For this purpose the sentence which we have already employed may, for the sake of illustration, be represented in the following form.—"[God] at [first] [created] all [things] to [shew] his [greatness.]"—Here each of the words, which we formerly supposed to be explained by the child, is inclosed in brackets. Now if the reader will be at the pains of trying the experiment upon himself, and shall endeavour to observe the various operations of his own mind during it, he will at once perceive the correctness of the above remarks. That he may have the full benefit of this experiment, he has only to fix upon any one—but only one—of the inclosed words in the above sentence, and having ascertained its precise meaning as before given, he must read the sentence aloud from the beginning, following the words with his eye in the ordinary way, till he arrives at the word he has fixed on. This he leaves out, and in its stead inserts the explanation, and then goes on to read the remainder of the sentence.—At the first trial he will perhaps be able to detect in his own mind some of the difficulties, which the less matured intellect of the young pupil has to encounter in his early attempts to succeed in the exercise; but he will also see, that it is a difficulty easily overcome when it is presented singly, and when the pupil is permitted to grapple with the paraphrasing of each word by itself. The reader will also be able to trace the operation of the young mind while engaged with the explanations, which differ entirely from the words which he is at the moment looking upon and reading. He will observe, that when the eye of the child arrives at the word fixed upon, he has to pause in his utterance for a moment, till the mind goes in search of what it requires; in the same way, and upon precisely the same principle, that an infant who has managed to speak one word, has to stop, and go in search of the next, and then to concentrate the powers of its mind upon it, before he can give it expression. But if the reader will repeat the operation to himself upon the same word, till he can read its explanation in the sentence without difficulty and without a pause; and then do the same with two, then with three, and so on, till he has completed the whole; he will be able to appreciate in some measure the importance of this exercise in training the young to such a command of language, as will enable them, on all known subjects, to deliver fluently, and in any variety of form, the precise shade of meaning which they wish to express.

This of itself will be a great attainment by the pupil; but it is not all. The reader will also perceive what must be the necessary result of persevering in this exercise, during the time of a child's attendance at school, in training him to that calm self-possession,—that perfect command of the mind and the thoughts,—while engaged in speaking, which the frequent and gradually extended use of this exercise is so well calculated to afford. All the children of a school, without exception, may be exercised by its means, and upon the same paragraph; for while, by the paraphrasing of but one word in a clause, it is within the reach of the humblest intellect; yet, by the changes and transpositions necessary in more difficult passages, either to smooth asperities, or to avoid grammatical errors, it provides an extemporaneous exercise suited to the talents of the highest grade in any seminary.

The collateral advantages also of this exercise, are both valuable and extensive. The operation of the principle which supposes double duty by the mind, enters into the nature of numerous acts in ordinary life, besides that of thinking and speaking, and which a perfect command of the thoughts in paraphrasing will tend greatly to facilitate.—For example, it will greatly assist the pupil in making observations during conversation, in attending to the weak and strong points of an argument, and in preparing his materials for a reply, while he is all the time hearing and storing up the ideas of a speaker.—It will enable him more extensively, and more deliberately to employ his mind on useful subjects while engaged with his work, even in those cases where a considerable degree of thought is required;—and it will greatly aid him in acquiring the art of "a ready writer," and will be available, both when he himself writes his own thoughts, or when he requires to dictate them to others. Many persons who can express their ideas well enough by speech, find themselves greatly at a loss when they sit down to write them;—and this arises entirely from the want of that command of the mind which is necessary whenever it is called on to do double duty. The person cannot think of that which he wishes to write, and at the same moment guide the hand in writing; in the same way, and for the same reason, that a child cannot answer a question and yet continue his play. By the use of the paraphrastic exercise, however, the pupil will soon be enabled not only to concoct in his own mind what he intends to write, during the time he is writing; but the faculty may, by the same means, be cultivated to such an extent, that he may at last be able to dictate to two clerks at a time, and sometimes perhaps, (as it has been affirmed some have done) even to three.

A similar collateral advantage, which will arise from the persevering use of the paraphrastic exercise, deserves a separate consideration.—It will gradually create a capacity to take written notes of a subject, either in the church, the senate, or the lecture room, during the time that the speaker is engaged in delivering it. It is in the ability to hear and concoct in the mind one set of ideas, while writing down an entirely different set, that the whole art of accurate "reporting" consists. The writing part of the process is purely mechanical; the perfection of the art consists chiefly in the command which the reporter acquires over the powers of his mind. The person while so employed has to hear and reiterate the ideas of the speaker as he proceeds; these he must remember and arrange, selecting, abridging, condensing, or abandoning, according to the extent of his manual dexterity in writing. But it is worthy of remark, that if the person be able to think,—to exercise his mind,—and to continue to write without stopping while he does so, the amount of what he writes is a mere accident, and depends, not upon the state of the mind, but upon the mechanical part of the operation, which is aided by the arts of stenography and abbreviation. This mental capacity is most likely to be acquired by the regular and persevering use of the paraphrastic exercise. It will train the pupil to that command over his thoughts, which, with a little practice in this particular mode of applying it, will soon enable him, with perfect self-possession, to hear and to keep up with a speaker, while he continues without a pause, to write down as much of what has been said, as his command of the pen will allow. Without this mental ability, he could not while listening write at all; but when it has been sufficiently acquired, there is no limit to his taking down all that is spoken, except what arises from the imperfection of the mechanical part of the process,—his manual dexterity. All these collateral advantages will accrue to the pupils by the use of this exercise; and this latter one will be greatly promoted in a school by a piece of history, an anecdote, or a paragraph of any kind, which none of the pupils know, being read slowly for only a few minutes, while the whole of the pupils who can write are required to take notes at the time, and to stop and give them in, as soon as the reading is finished.[28]

It is also here worthy of remark,—and it is perhaps another proof of the efficiency of the several exercises before enumerated as imitations of Nature,—that they all, more or less, embody a portion of this principle of double duty performed by the mind. In each of them, when properly conducted, the pupil is compelled to speak, and to think at the same moment. Not a little of their efficiency and value indeed, may be attributed to this circumstance. In the catechetical exercise, for example, it is not difficult to trace its operation. For in the attempt of the child to answer a question previously put to him, the teacher will be at no loss to perceive the mind gradually acquiring an ability to think of the original question and of the ideas contained in the subject from which he has selected his answer, at the very moment he is giving it utterance. And a knowledge of the fact should excite teachers in general, so to employ this exercise as to produce this effect.—The analytical exercise also, in its whole extent, calls into operation the working of this principle, whether employed synthetically or analytically. When children are employed with the analytical exercise proper,—as in tracing a practical lesson backwards to the subject or circumstance from which it has been drawn, and in attaching that circumstance to the story or class of truths to which it belongs; or when, as in the "Analysis of Prayer," a text of Scripture has to be classified according to its nature, among the several parts into which prayer is divided;—in all these cases, there is this same double operation of the mind, searching and comparing one set of ideas, while the pupil is employed in giving expression to others.The exhibition of the principle will be easily traced, from what took place in the experiment in London, where the report states, that "the third class were next examined on the nature and practice of prayer. They shewed great skill in comprehending and defining the several component parts of prayer, as invocation, adoration, confession, thanksgiving, petition, &c. They first gave examples of each separately; and then, with great facility, made selections from each division in its order, which they gave consecutively; shewing, that they had acquired, with ease and aptitude, by means of this classification, a most desirable scriptural directory in the important duty of prayer. They then turned several lessons and passages of scripture into prayer; and the Chairman, and several of the gentlemen present, read to them passages from various parts of the Bible, which they readily classified, as taught in the 'Questions on Prayer,' and turned them into adoration, petition, confession, or thanksgiving; according to their nature, and as they appeared best suited for each. Some of the texts were of a mixed, and even of a complicated nature; but in every case, even when they were not previously acquainted with the passages, they divided them into parts, and referred each of these to its proper class, as in the more simple and unique verses."

But a similar working of the same principle takes place when the analytical exercise is employed synthetically, and when the pupil is required to go from the root, forward to the extreme branches of the analysis, as is done when he forms an extemporaneous prayer, from a previous acquaintance with its several divisions and their proper order. In this very necessary and important branch of a child's education, the "Analysis of Prayer" is usually employed, and has, in thousands of instances, been found exceedingly effective. During this exercise, the child has steadily to keep in view the precise form and order of the Analysis, and at the same moment he has to select the matter required under each of the parts from the miscellaneous contents of his memory, to put them in order, and to give them expression. In doing this there is a variety of mental operations going on at the same moment, during all of which the pupil will soon be enabled continuously to give expression to his own ideas, with as much ease and self-possession as if he were doing nothing more than mechanically repeating words previously committed to memory. This is a valuable attainment; and yet the whole of this complicated operation of attending to the several branches of the analysis, and of selecting, forming, and giving utterance to his confessions, his thanksgivings, and his petitions, with perfect composure and self-possession, is within the reach of every Christian child. It is accomplished by a persevering exercise of the principle which has been illustrated above, and which is exemplified in the paraphrastic exercise. Many adults, it is believed, have been enabled, with ease and comfort, to commence family worship by its means; and numerous classes have been trained to the exercise in a few lessons. We shall here detain the reader by only a single example.

The writer having been requested to meet with the Sunday School Teachers of Greenock and its neighbourhood, about the year 1827 or 1828, paid a visit to that place, and had the proposed meeting in a large hall of the town, where he endeavoured to explain to them, practically, a few of the principles connected with Sunday School Teaching, as more scientifically detailed in the present Treatise. For the purposes of that meeting, three children belonging to one of the Sunday Schools, were for a few hours previously instructed, and prepared to exhibit the working of some of those principles which, it was hoped, would lessen the labour of the Sunday School Teachers, and at the same time increase their influence and their usefulness. These children, (two girls and a boy,) about the ages of ten or twelve years, were regularly instructed by means of the catechetical exercise, in the doctrines, examples, and duties of Christianity; and among other subjects, they were made acquainted with the "Analysis of Prayer," and exercised by its means, without its being hinted to them, however, what use was intended to be made of it.

The meeting was a crowded one; where, besides the Sunday School Teachers, and Parents of the children, nearly all the Clergymen of the place were present. When the more ostensible business of the meeting had been concluded, the writer consulted privately with two or three of the clergymen, and asked, whether they, knowing the general sentiments of the persons composing the meeting, would think it improper that one of the three children who had shewn themselves so intelligent, should be called on solemnly to engage in prayer with the audience before dismissing. To this they replied, that there could be no objections to such a thing, provided the children were able;—but of their ability, they very seriously doubted. On this point, however, the writer assured them there was no fear; and if that were the only objection, they would themselves immediately see that it was groundless. The boy accordingly, without his even conjecturing such a thing previously, was, before the meeting was dismissed, publicly called on to engage in prayer. He was for a moment surprised, and hesitated; but almost immediately, on the request being repeated, he shut his eyes, and commenced, with a solemn and faltering voice for one or two sentences; when, recovering from every appearance of trepidation, he proceeded with much propriety and solemnity of manner, with great latitude, and yet perfect regularity and self-possession, through all the departments of adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and petition, in language entirely his own, selecting for himself, and arranging his sentences agreeably to the Analysis, which was evidently his guide from the beginning to the end. This Treatise will, there is little doubt, be read by some who were that evening present, and who will remember the universal feeling of surprise and delight, at the perfect propriety of expression, the serenity of mind, and the solemnity of manner, which characterised the whole of this uncommon exercise. It did appear to many as a most unaccountable thing; but when the principle is perceived, as explained above, the wonder must at once cease, and we can distinctly see, that by using the proper means, the same ability is within the reach of all who will be at the pains to make the trial.

This same principle is also exercised to a very considerable extent in drawing and applying lessons from a previous announcement. A very little attention to the operations of the mind in that exercise will be sufficient to shew this. Let us suppose, for example, that an announcement is made to a child, from which he is required to draw a practical lesson. This announcement must be distinctly present to his mind, while he is engaged in considering its meaning, its moral character, and its bearing on his own sentiments and conduct;—but more especially, all this, besides the original announcement, has still to be kept in view, while he is engaged in giving the lesson to the teacher in his own language as required. But in the application of the lessons, the principle is still more extensively called into operation. The child is asked, how he should act in certain given circumstances. These circumstances must accordingly be kept steadily before the mind, during the whole of the succeeding mental operation. He has to consider the lesson, or the conduct which he should pursue in these circumstances, and then, by the association of his ideas, he must call up from the whole of his accumulated knowledge, the precepts, the examples, the warnings, and even the implications, which form his authority for deciding on the conduct which he ought to pursue. These again must be kept before the mind, while he is preparing, and giving in his own language his conclusions to his teacher.

All this was very obvious in the several public experiments, where the drawing of lessons, and the application of them by the pupils, were introduced.—In the case of the adult prisoners in Edinburgh County Jail, it was very observable; and the rolling of the eye, and the unconscious movement of the head, as if deeply engaged in some mental research when an application was required, were peculiarly pleasing and obvious to all the spectators. The reason was, that they had to keep before their mind, the circumstance, or statement involved in the question asked, while they had, at the same time, to review the several portions of their knowledge, chuse out the passage or example which was calculated to direct them in the duty; and then, still keeping these accumulated ideas present before the mind, they had to prepare and give expression to their answers. The same thing had to be done, but to a much greater extent, by the children in Aberdeen, in London, and in Newry. But the most satisfactory evidence of the beneficial working of this principle, in the drawing and applying of lessons, and by this means in giving even to children a command of language, and a power of extemporaneous speech which is but rarely attained even by adults, is to be found in the Seventh Experiment in Leith. The writer feels more at liberty in descanting upon the extraordinary results of that investigation with the children, because he had no share in their previous instruction; the peculiar merits of which belonged entirely to their zealous and pious teacher. He was a plain unlettered man; and yet he has trained hundreds of children in his Sunday school, whose intellectual attainments, for their age and rank in life, the writer has seldom known to be surpassed. There were exhibited by the children, from the beginning of the experiment to the end, an amount of knowledge, a degree of mental culture, a grasp of mind, and a fluency of expression, which had never before been witnessed in children of a similar class, or of the same age, by any person then present. The pupils were at the time quite unprepared for any extraordinary exhibition;—the subjects were chosen indiscriminately by the clergymen present, and were repeatedly changed;—and what is still more extraordinary, it was found, upon investigation, that the subjects were in general entirely new, or at least they had never been previously used as exercises in the school. The children, however, with all these disadvantages, were perfectly at home in each one of them. There appeared to be no exhausting of their resources; and the ease, and copiousness, and fluency of their language, were remarked by all present, as extraordinary, and by some as almost incredible. Many who were present, could scarcely believe that the children spoke extemporaneously. All these phenomena were simply the effects of the principle of which we are here speaking, regularly brought into operation, in the weekly acts of drawing and applying their practical lessons. The exhibition of so much mental power possessed by mere children,—and these children collected from the very humblest and rudest classes inhabiting a sea-port town,—appeared to be a circumstance altogether new. The official persons present, and the very Rev. Bishop Russell, who took an active part in the examination, expressed their decided satisfaction at the results of the whole experiment; and the effects of these principles, as illustrated by such children, made the present Lord Murray remark publicly at the close of the meeting, that it was obviously "a valuable discovery, calculated to be extensively useful to society."

FOOTNOTES:

[28] Note Z.

Clyx.com

ON THE METHODS BY WHICH THE EDUCATIONAL PROCESSES OF NATURE MAY BE SUCCESSFULLY IMITATED.

CHAP. I.

On the Exercises by which Nature may be imitated in cultivating the Powers of the Mind.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. II.

On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in the Pupil's Acquisition of Knowledge; with a Review of the Analogy between the Mental and Physical Appetites of the Young.

CHAP. III.

How Nature may be imitated in Communicating Knowledge to the Pupil, by the Reiteration of Ideas.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. IV.

On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Exercising the Principle of Individuation.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. V.

On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Applying the Principle of Grouping, or Association.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. VI.

On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in Communicating Knowledge by Classification, or Analysis.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. VII.

On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Practical Use of Knowledge.

CHAP. VIII.

On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Use of Knowledge by means of the Animal or Common Sense.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. IX.

On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Practical Use of Knowledge by means of the Moral Sense, or Conscience.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. X.

On the Application of our Knowledge to the Common Affairs of Life.

FOOTNOTES:

CHAP. XI.

On the Imitation of Nature, in training her Pupils fluently to communicate their Knowledge.

FOOTNOTES:

On the Exercises by which Nature may be imitated in cultivating
the Powers of the Mind.

On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Exercising the
Principle of Individuation.

On the Means by which Nature may be imitated in Applying the
Principle of Grouping, or Association.

On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in
Communicating Knowledge by Classification, or Analysis.

On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Use of Knowledge
by means of the Animal or Common Sense.

On the Imitation of Nature in Teaching the Practical Use of Knowledge
by means of the Moral Sense, or Conscience.

On the Imitation of Nature, in training her Pupils fluently to
communicate their Knowledge.