degree. This is so true, that once, when one of my professors, who had a very good knowledge of Greek, but not the least eloquence of style, translated and published some orations of Demosthenes, I had the boldness, with the limited school rudiments which I then possessed, to translate one of these orations myself, and to give it in, at the examination, as a specimen of my progress in this branch of study. A portion of this translation was printed in the Linden Journal, in connection with an article entitled 'Agis.' Just in the same manner as I made incomparably more progress in certain parts of my subjects of instruction than in others, so generally it was of far more importance to me to be sensibly affected by, (I dare not say to understand thoroughly,) the branches of knowledge which I was to learn, than to exercise myself in the means of practicing them. At the same time, the wish to be acquainted with some branches of knowledge that took hold on my heart and my imagination, even though I neglected the means of acquiring them, was nevertheless enthusiastically alive within me; and unfortunately, the tone of public instruction in my native town at this period was in a high degree calculated to foster this visionary fancy of taking an active interest in, and believing one's self capable of, the practice of things in which one had by no means had sufficient exercise, and this fancy was very prevalent among the youth of my native town generally." What a foreshadowing is Pestalozzi's childhood of the whole of his subsequent career! Among Pestalozzi's teachers, there were three who exercised an influence upon him in his youth,-Bodmer, Breitinger, and Steinbrüchel. Bodmer was Professor of History from 1725 to 1775; he is known by his literary controversies with Gottsched and Lessing, his edition of the Minniesingers, and his epic poem upon the Deluge. Breitinger, Professor of Greek and Hebrew from 1731 to 1776, edited the Septuagint. Steinbrüchel is described as a witty and learned man, but very much inclined to infidel "illumination." "Independence, freedom, beneficence, self-sacrifice, and patriotism, were the watchwords of our public education," says Pestalozzi. "But the means of attaining all this which was particularly commended to us -mental distinction-was left without solid and sufficient training of the practical ability which is its essential condition. We were taught, in a visionary manner, to seek for independence in an abstract acquaintance with truth, without being made to feel strongly what was essentially necessary to the security both of our inward and of our outward domestic and civil independence. The tone of the instruction which we received, led us, with much vivacity and many attractive representations, to be so short-sighted and inconsiderate as

to set little value upon, and almost to despise, the external means of wealth, honor, and consideration. This was carried to such a length, that we imagined, while we were yet in the condition of boys, that, by a superficial school acquaintance with the great civil life of Greece and Rome, we could eminently prepare ourselves for the little civil life in one of the Swiss cantons."

Pestalozzi further relates, that the appearance of the writings of Rousseau was a great means of keeping alive the errors into which the noble flight of true and patriotic sentiment had led the more distinguished of the young Swiss. "They had run," he says, “into onesided, rash, and confused notions, into which Voltaire's seductive infidelity, being opposed to the pure holiness of religion, and to its simplicity and innocence, had helped to lead them. Out of all this," he tells us, "a new tendency was produced, which was totally inconsistent with the real welfare of our native town, constituted as it was according to the old-fashioned style of the imperial free cities, which was neither calculated to preserve what was good in the old institutions, nor to introduce any that were substantially better."

At this time, Pestalozzi's contemporary, Lavater, founded a league which Pestalozzi joined, being then a lad of fifteen. The young men who formed this league, with Lavater at their head, brought a public charge of injustice against Grebel, the governor of the canton, impeached the character of Brunner, the mayor of Zurich, and declared war against unworthy ministers of religion.

"The moment Rousseau's Emile appeared," says Pestalozzi, “my visionary and highly speculative mind was enthusiastically seized by this visionary and highly speculative book. I compared the education which I enjoyed in the corner of my mother's parlor, and also in the school which I frequented, with what Rousseau demanded for the education of his Emilus. The home as well as the public education of the whole world, and of all ranks of society, appeared to me altogether as a crippled thing, which was to find a universal remedy for its present pitiful condition in Rousseau's lofty ideas.

"The ideal system of liberty, also, to which Rousseau imparted fresh animation, increased in me the visionary desire for a more extended sphere of activity, in which I might promote the welfare and happiness of the people. Juvenile ideas as to what it was necessary and possible to do in this respect in my native town, induced me to abandon the clerical profession, to which I had formerly leaned, and for which I had been destined, and caused the thought to spring up within me, that it might be possible, by the study of the law, to find a career that would be likely to procure for me, sooner or later, the

opportunity and means of exercising an active influence on the civil condition of my native town, and even of my native land."

There was at this time a great controversy in the canton of Zurich, particularly between the town and the country. Pestalozzi had already as a boy, when living with his grandfather, the village pastor, won the affection of the people of the country, and might early have heard the complaint of the country clergy, omne malum ex urbe,— "all harm comes from the town." A fierce hatred toward the aristocracy who oppressed the country people was kindled in his young heart, and even in old age it was not altogether extinguished. This warmth of anger coëxisted in him with great warmth of love for the people; Göthe's saying

"Youth's wings should trim themselves for flight

Ere youthful strength be gone,

Thro' hate of wrong and love of right

To bear him bravely on-"

characterizes not only the young Pestalozzi, but also the old man; it characterizes most of his writings.

He was seconded at this time by a friend of the name of Bluntschli, but a pulmonary complaint laid this young man upon his deathbed. He sent for Pestalozzi, and said to him, "I die, and when you are left to yourself, you must not plunge into any career which from your good natured and confiding disposition, might become dangerous to you. Seek for a quiet, tranquil career; and unless you have at your side a man who will faithfully assist you with a calm, dispassionate knowledge of men and things, by no means embark in any extensive undertaking whose failure would in any way be perilous to you." An opinion of Pestalozzi's character which was strikingly confirmed by almost every subsequent event of his life.

Soon after his friend's death, Pestalozzi himself became dangerously ill, probably in consequence of his overstrained exertion in the pursuit of his legal and historical studies. His physicians advised him to give up scientific pursuits for a time, and to recreate himself in the country. This advice, which was strengthened by Rousseau's antiscientific diatribes, Pestalozzi followed too faithfully. He renounced the study of books, burnt his manuscripts, went to his maternal relation, Dr. Hotze at Richterswyl, and from thence to Kirchberg, in the canton of Bern, to Tschiffeli, a farmer of considerable reputation. From him Pestalozzi sought advice as to how he might best realize his plans for the country people. "I had come to him,” says Pestalozzi, "a political visionary, though with many profound and correct attainments, views, and prospects in political matters; and I went

away from him just as great an agricultural visionary, though with many enlarged and correct ideas and intentions in regard to agriculture. My stay with him only had this effect-that the gigantic views in relation to my exertions were awakened within me afresh by his agricultural plans, which, though difficult of execution, and in part impracticable, were bold and extensive; and that, at the same time, they caused me, in my thoughtlessness as to the means of carrying them out, to fall into a callousness, the consequences of which contributed in a decisive manner to the pecuniary embarrassment into which I was plunged in the very first years of my rural life."

Tschiffeli's plantations of madder were exciting great attention at that time, and induced Pestalozzi to make a similar experiment. He learnt that near the village of Birr there was a large tract of barren chalky heath-land to be sold, which was only used for a sheep-walk. He joined a rich mercantile firm in Zurich, and bought about 100 acres of this land, at the nominal price of ten florins. A builder erected for him, on the land he had purchased, a dwelling house in the Italian style; Pestalozzi himself calls this an injudicious and imprudent step. To the whole estate he gave the name of Neuhof.

Among the friends of Pestalozzi's youth, was Schulthess, (the son of a wealthy merchant in Zurich,) for whose beautiful sister, Anna Schulthess, Pestalozzi entertained an affection. A letter which he wrote to the beautiful maiden, gives us a profound insight into the workings of his heart, and even into his future life. In this letter he lays before her his hopes and resolutions, and also, with the utmost candor and with great self-knowledge, his faults. He thus writes :— "MY DEAR, MY ONLY FRIEND.

"Our whole future life, our whole happiness, our duties toward our country and our posterity, and the security of virtue, call upon us to follow the only correct guide in our actions-Truth. I will, with all candor, made known to you the serious reflection I have had in these solemn days upon the relation subsisting between us; I am happy that I know before-hand, that my friend will find more true love in the calm truth of this contemplation, which so intimately concerns our happiness, than in the ardor of pleasant, but often not too wise, outpourings of a feeling heart, which I now with difficulty restrain.

"Dear friend, first of all I must tell you that in future I shall but seldom dare to approach you. I have already come too frequently and too imprudently to your brother's house; I see that it becomes my duty to limit my visits to you; I have not the slightest ability to conceal my feelings. My sole art in this respect consists in fleeing from those who observe them; I should not be able to be in company

with you for even half an evening, without its being possible for a noderately acute observer to perceive that I was in a disturbed state of mind. We know each other sufficiently, dear, to be able to rely upon mutual straightforward honesty and sincerity. I propose to you a correspondence in which we shall make our undisguised thoughts known to each other with all the freedom of oral conversation. Yes, I will open myself fully and freely to you; I will even now with the greatest candor, let you look as deep into my heart as I am myself able to penetrate; I will show you my views in the light of my present and future condition, as clearly as I see them myself.

"Dearest Schulthess, those of my faults which appear to me the most important in relation to the situation in which I may be placed in after-life, are improvidence, incautiousness, and a want of presence of mind to meet unexpected changes in my future prospects, whenever they may occur. I know not how far they may be diminished by my efforts to counteract them, by calin judgment and experience. At present, I have them still in such a degree, that I dare not conceal them from the maiden whom I love; they are faults, my dear, which deserve your fullest consideration. I have other faults, arising from my irritability and sensitiveness, which oftentimes will not submit to my judgment. I very frequently allow myself to run into excesses in praising and blaming, in my likings and dislikings; I cleave so strongly to many things which I possess, that the force with which I feel myself bound to them often exceeds the limits which reason assigns; whenever my country or my friend is unhappy, I am myself unhappy. Direct your whole attention to this weakness; there will be times when the cheerfulness and tranquillity of my soul will suffer under it. If even it does not hinder me in the discharge of my duties, yet I shall scarcely ever be great enough to fulfill them, in such adverse circumstances, with the cheerfulness and tranquillity of a wise man, who is ever true to himself. Of my great, and indeed very reprehensible negligence in all matters of etiquette, and generally in all matters which are not in themselves of importance, I need not speak; any one may see them at first sight of me. I also owe you the open confession, my dear, that I shall always consider my duties toward my beloved partner subordinate to my duties toward my country; and that, although I shall be the tenderest husband, nevertheless I hold it to be my duty to be inexorable to the tears of my wife, if she should ever attempt to restrain me by them from the direct performance of my duties as a citizen, whatever this might lead to. My wife shall be the confident of my heart, the partner of all my most secret counsels. A great and honest simplicity