certaining; but, that every one may judge for himself, I shall briefly describe the plan of education existing at that period in the schools alluded to. The pupils commenced with the spelling-book, from which they learned the alphabet. Next came their a, b, ab, e, b, eb, &c. followed by spelling lessons of words of one syllable, in columns, without any connexion. Spelling words of two syllables came next in order. All this, you will perceive, is a mere affair of memory, in which the reason and judgment of the child are never called into action. For months, nay, in many instances, for years, he is occupied by barren sounds alone. He is taught to connect them, it is true, with certain characters; but of their use, viz. to convey the ideas of others to his mind, he as yet knows nothing. Now, surely, it must be sufficiently evident, that the active mind of a child cannot be exclusively occupied with such tiresome drudgery. While engaged with these names, his body alone will be present. His mind will be far distant, at play with his schoolmates, or at the family fireside. Can the pernicious habit of suffering the thoughts and tongue to be differently engaged fail to be generated by such a course as this?

What was called reading was now introduced, which in no respect differed from what preceded, save that there was some attempt at meaning in the arrangement of the words, but as the chief object of the compiler seemed to be the collection of words easy to be pronounced, without reference to the capacity of the pupil, his efforts were as mechanical as ever. Indeed, the manner of reciting these lessons would have rendered nugatory all attempts of the compiler to carry sense as well as sound to the mind of the child. For, as every word was alternately spelled and pronounced, no shade of meaning could by any possibility reach the mind of the pupil among such a farrago of sounds.

Meanwhile the study of columns of words, arbitrarily arranged, was still continued, with the vain expectation of thus learning to spell. But correct orthography can never be acquired in this manner. Experience proves, that the most adroit speller orally, will totally fail when he attempts to commit his ideas to writing. In fact, orthography can only be thoroughly acquired by a great deal of practice in writing, and by a habit of observing the form of words while reading, a habit easily acquired. What can be more absurd than the idea of learning to spell by rote the whole of the English

language, consisting of upwards of eighty thousand words? But, lest the slightest incredulity should remain, let me ask you, Gentlemen of the Institute, how you learned the orthography of the various terms of science, with which you no doubt are familiar, and with the numerous inflections and irregularities of the nouns and pronouns, adjectives and verbs? None can be found in the spelling-book, and many not even in the dictionary. How, then, I ask, have they been acquired? Was it not by a habit of observing the form of words while reading? Truly, a dependence on the spelling-book or dictionary, "is trusting to a broken reed, on which if a man lean, it will go into his hand and pierce him."* What an expense of time, what a waste of intellect, is incurred in this fatiguing study, which, properly pursued, is acquired almost insensibly.

Is it a matter of wonder, if, after one or more years drudgery like this, the child becomes utterly disgusted with books, which are not even expected to present a single idea to his mind. Nothing but words, words, words! For month after month, year after year, nothing save mere unmeaning sounds! Can it surprise any one who bestows a moment's attention on the subject, that habits of mental wandering should cling to us through life, which even the discipline of the mathematics and classical studies should fail to eradicate, when our minds have been bewildered at the outset, by so preposterous a course? What then can we expect from those who have no such advantage? Can the whole mass of our literature be other than a sealed book to them? How can we expect that they should be able to advance a single step without a guide? The effects of this unfortunate commencement are not confined to the district schools. The bad habits which it introduces, totally preclude self-education. They close the avenue of knowledge to the whole people, rendering reading wearisome and dull, instead of a delight. They cause the progress of students in college to be fatiguing, slow, and uncertain, and they form one of the chief causes of the inefficiency of the pulpit.

It is true, that many, and perhaps most of your schools are much improved, and that the picture I am now drawing is no longer strictly applicable. Yet even in that case the principles I am about to lay down may be useful. I have visited the schools in various sections of our extensive country, north

and south, east and west, and, though I have been pleased to see the general attention bestowed on the subject, and the valuable improvements that have been introduced, yet everywhere have I seen too much of the old mechanical method: the cramming of children with words without ideas; the constant exercise of the memory, and the neglect of the thinking principle. To give an example: as an examination of a class of young ladies in chemistry, in one of our higher seminaries, I was equally pleased and surprised at the readiness and fluency of their replies. Conceive, then, my disappointment, when, on investigation, I found they merely quoted the words of the book they were studying, which they had marked off with a pencil for that purpose, and that they were in reality profoundly ignorant of the subject about which they had been gabbling. In another select school, under the care of a collegian who graduated a few months afterwards, one of the pupils, who requested his assistance, in a question in arithmetic that puzzled him, was told to pass it over, as he (the teacher) had left his books at college! A witty writer of the last century, whose works are enriched with many admirable remarks on education, observes, the "languages should be learned by rote, but science never. Our teachers generally reverse this rule. They attempt to teach reading by principles, which are totally unintelligible to the child, and, when his mind is more matured, they endeavor to teach him science by rote.

*

Mankind have been constantly accumulating knowledge for nearly six thousand years, and all this vast accumulation, the united result of the labors, experience and discoveries of the whole race, is, or ought to be, at the command of every member of the community. The grand object of our teachers, then, should be to supply every child with a key to this invaluable store-house, and to instruct him how to use it with ease and effect. And what is this key? It is nothing more than intelligent reading, with such a degree of mental discipline, as will give the pupil a command over his own thoughts, and enable him to confine his attention to the subject before him, in place of suffering it to wander vaguely from Dan to Beersheba. I know of nothing so well calculated to promote this discipline as the practice of mental arithmetic; and I venture to say, and I trust I shall be able presently to demonstrate it satisfactorily, that if a child be taught to read intelli

* Sterne.

gently, and have his mind properly disciplined by mental arithmetic, or any other suitable exercise, he has in reality received a better education, and will probably attain more general knowledge, than if he had gone through the whole range of scholastic science, in the usual mechanical manner. Such a pupil cannot fail to have a taste for knowledge; and, so great are now the facilities for reading, that, however humble or retired may be his situation, he will have ample means of gratifying it. In elucidation of this idea, allow me to quote an anecdote of Edmund Stone, an eminent mathematician who flourished about a century ago, when the means of procuring books were incomparably smaller than at present. "The father of Stone, it appears, was gardener to the Duke of Argyle, who, walking one day in his garden, observed a Latin copy of Newton's Principia, lying on the grass, and, thinking it must have been brought from his own library, called some one to carry it back to its place. Upon this, Stone, who was then in his eighteenth year, claimed the book as his own. 'Yours,' replied the duke; do you understand geometry, Latin, and Newton?' I know a little of them,' replied the young man. The duke was surprised; and, having a taste for the sciences, he entered into conversation with the young mathematician. He asked him several questions, and was astonished at the force, the accuracy, and the candor of his answers. 'But how,' said the duke, 'came you by the knowledge of all these things?' Stone replied, "A servant taught me, ten years since, to read. Does one need to know any thing more than the twenty-four letters, in order to know every thing else that one wishes?' The duke's curiosity redoubled he sat down on a bank, and requested a detail of the whole process by which he had become so learned. 'I first learned to read,' said Stone; 'the masons were then at work upon your house. I approached them one day and observed that the architect used a rule and compasses, and that he made calculations. I inquired what might be the meaning and use of these things, and I was informed that there was a science called arithmetic. I purchased a book of arithmetic, and I learned it. I was told there was another science, called geometry; I bought the necessary books and I learned geometry. By reading I found that there were good books on these two sciences in Latin. I bought a [grammar and] dictionary, and I learned Latin. I understood, also, that there were good books of the same kind in French. I bought

a [grammar and] dictionary, and I learned French. And this, my lord, is what I have done. It seems to me that we may learn every thing when we know the twenty-four letters of the alphabet.'

Yes! We may learn ourselves every thing when we know the twenty-four letters of the alphabet. And would to God that on the walls of every school-house, this sentiment were written in letters of gold. For, although every child will not turn out an Edmund Stone, who can for a moment doubt, that the prevailing notion that we must be taught every thing has a most pernicious effect in education?

It may, perhaps, be thought by some, that the idea of acquiring foreign languages without a teacher, is chimerical; and, with respect to speaking them, this will readily be granted, for pronunciation must be taught orally. But it should be recollected that the object of young Stone was merely to read the books in the language. That this may be readily attained I know by personal experience, and any one who takes up a good grammar and dictionary will, I believe, soon satisfy himself of its practicability. But, whatever may be thought of acquiring languages in this way, surely there cannot be a doubt that any intelligent reader, whose mind has been so disciplined as to be able to give undivided attention to the subject with which he is engaged, may acquire a knowledge of every thing contained in English literature. And what is there truly valuable that is not, at the present day, contained in English literature, in the original or in translations?

Perhaps it may here be objected, that the desire of knowledge is wanting among our youth, and it is but too true that it now appears faintly, if at all. But why? let me ask. Can it be, that the youth of New England, whose general character throughout the world is that of shrewdness and intelligence, are blind to the advantages of scientific knowledge? Does not this seeming apathy rather arise from the apparent hopelessness of the pursuit; from the prevalent idea already alluded to, that science cannot be acquired without the aid of a teacher? that a knowledge of the twenty-four letters and their combinations, is not all that is wanted? And unfortunately this idea is but too strongly confirmed by our mechanical and inefficient mode of education.

Let us now direct our attention for a moment, to arithmetic.

* Library of Entertaining Knowledge, Vol. III.