their instructions very intelligible, interesting, or profitable to their pupils, or present to them the motives best adapted to secure good lessons and good conduct, or, in a word, adopt such a course of training as would result in a sound development of the faculties, and the sure formation of a good character. I admitted that a skill and power to do all this might be acquired by trial, if teachers continued in their business long enough; but while teachers were thus learning, I was sure that pupils must be suffering. In the process of time, a man may find out by experiment, (trial,) how to tan hides and convert them into leather. But most likely the time would be long, and he would spoil many before he got through. It would be far better for him, we know, to get some knowledge of Chemistry, and spend a little time in his neighbor's tannery, before he sets up for himself. In the same way, the farmer may learn what trees, and fruits, and seeds, are best suited to particular soils, and climates, and modes of culture, but it must be by a needless outlay of time and labor, and the incurring of much loss. If wise, he would first learn the principles and facts which agricultural experiments have already established, and then commence operations. So the more I considered the subject, the more the conviction grew upon my mind, that by a judicious course of study, and of discipline, teachers may be prepared to enter on their work, not only with the hope, but almost with the assurance of success. I did not then, I do not now, (at least in the fullest extent of it,) assent to the doctrine so often expressed in one form or another, that there are no general principles to be recognized in education; no general methods to be followed in the art of teaching; that all depends upon the individual teacher; that every principle, motive and method, must owe its power to the skill with which it is applied; that what is true, and good, and useful in the hands of one, may be quite the reverse in the hands of another; and of course, that every man must invent his own methods of teaching and governing, it being impossible successfully to adopt those of another. To me it seemed that education had claims to be regarded as a science, being based on immutable principles, of which the practical teacher, though he may modify them to meet the change of ever-varying circumstances, can never lose sight. That the educator should watch the operations of nature, the development of the mind, discipline those faculties whose activities first appear, and teach that knowledge first, which the child can most easily comprehend, viz., that which comes in through the senses, rather than through reason and the imagination; that true education demands, or rather implies the training, strengthening, and perfecting of all the faculties by means of the especial exercise of each; that in teaching, we must begin with what is simple and known, and go on by easy steps to what is complex and unknown; that for true progress and lasting results, it were better for the attention to be concentrated on a few studies, and for a considerable time, than to be divided among many, changing from one to another at short intervals; that in training children we must concede a special recognition to the principle of curiosity, a love of knowledge, and so present truth as to keep this principle in proper action; that the pleasure of acquiring, and the advantage of possessing knowledge, may be made, and should be made, a sufficient stimulus to sustain wholesome exertion without resorting to emulation, or medals, or any rewards other than those which are the natural fruits of industry and attainment; that for securing order and obedience, there are better ways than to depend solely or chiefly upon the rod, or appeals to fear; that much may be done by way of prevention of evil; that gentle means should always first be tried; that undue attention is given to intellectual training in our schools, to the neglect of physical and moral; that the training of the faculties is more important than the communication of knowledge; that the discipline, the instruction of the school-room, should better subserve the interests of real life, than it now does ;-these are some of the principles, truths, facts, in education, susceptible, I think, of the clearest demonstration, and pretty generally admitted now, by all enlightened educators. The old method of teaching Arithmetic, for instance, by taking up some printed treatise and solving abstract questions consisting of large numbers, working blindly by what must appear to the pupil arbitrary rules, would now be regarded as less philosophical, less in conformity to mental development, than the more modern way of beginning with mental Arithmetic, using practical questions, which involve small numbers, and explaining the reason of every step as you go along.

So in the study of Grammar, no Normal teacher, whether a graduate or not, of a Normal School, would require his pupils to commit the whole text-book to memory, before looking at the nature of words, and their application in the structure of sentences. Almost all have found out that memorizing the Grammar-book, and the exercise of parsing, do very little toward giving one a knowledge of the English language.

Neither is it learning Geography, to read over and commit to memory, statistics of the length and breadth of countries, their boundaries, latitude and longitude, &c., &c., without map or globe, or any visible illustration, as was once the practice. Nor does the somewhat modern addition of maps and globes much help the process, unless the scholar, by a previous acquaintance with objects in the outer world, has been prepared to use them. The shading for mountains, and black lines for rivers on maps, will be of little use to a child who has not already some idea of a mountain and a river.

And the teacher who should attempt to teach reading by requiring a child to repeat from day to day, and from month to month, the whole alphabet, until he is familiar with all the letters, as was the fashion in former days, would deserve to lose his place and be sent himself to school. Could any thing be more injudicious? Is it not more in harmony with Nature's work, to begin with simple, significant words, or rather sentences, taking care always to select such as are easy and intelligible, as well as short? Or, if letters be taken first, should they not be formed into small groups, on some principle of association, and be combined with some visible object?

Surely, the different methods of teaching the branches above-mentioned, are not all equally good. Teaching is based on immutable principles, and may be regarded as an art.

Nearly thirty years' experience in the business of teaching, I thought, had given me some acquaintance with its true principles and processes, and I deemed it no presumption to believe that I could teach them to others. This I attempted to do in the Normal School at Lexington; 1st. didactically, i. e. by precept, in the form of familiar conversations and lectures; 2d. by giving every day, and continually, in my own manner of teaching, an exemplification of my theory; 3d. by requiring my pupils to teach each other, in my presence, the things which I had taught them; and 4th. by means of the Model School, where, under my general supervision, the Normal pupils had an opportunity, both to prove and to improve their skill in teaching and managing schools. At all our recitations, (the modes of which were very various,) and in other connections, there was allowed the greatest freedom of inquiry and remark, and principles, modes, processes, every thing indeed relating to school-keeping, was discussed. The thoughts and opinions of each one were thus made the property of the whole, and there was infused into all hearts a deeper and deeper interest in the teachers' calling. In this way the Normal School became a kind of standing Teachers' Institute.

But for a particular account of my manner and processes at the Normal School, allow me to refer you to a letter which I had the honor, at your request, to address to you from Lexington, Jan. 1, 1841, and which was published in the Common School Journal, both of Connecticut and Massachusetts, (vol. 3.) What success attended my labors, I must leave to others to say. I acknowledge, it was far from being satisfactory to myself. Still the experiment convinced me that Normal Schools may be made a powerful auxiliary to the cause of education. A thorough training in them, I am persuaded, will do much toward supplying the want of experience. It will make the teachers' work easier, surer, better. I have reason to believe that Normal pupils are much indebted for whatever of fitness they possess for teaching, to the Normal School. They uniformly profess so to feel. I have, moreover, made diligent inquiry in regard to their success, and it is no exaggeration to say, that it has been manifestly great. Strong testimonials to the success of many of the early graduates of the Lexington (now W. Newton) Normal School, were published with the 8th Report of the late Secretary of the Board of Education, and may be found in the 7th vol. of the Massachusetts Common School Journal.

But it is sometimes asked, (and the inquiry deserves an answer,) Allowing that teaching is an art, and that teachers may be trained for their business, have we not High Schools and Academies, in which the various school branches are well taught? May not teachers in them be prepared for their work?

Where is the need then of a distinct order of Seminaries for training teachers? I admit we have Academies, High Schools, and other schools, furnished with competent teachers, in which is excellent teaching; but at the time of the establishment of the Normal Schools in Massachusetts, there was not, to my knowledge, any first-rate institution exclusively devoted to training teachers for our common schools; neither do I think there is now any, except the Normal Schools. And teachers can not be prepared for their work anywhere else, so well as in seminaries exclusively devoted to this object. The art of teaching must be made the great, the paramount, the only concern. It must not come in as subservient to, or merely collateral with any thing else whatever. And again, a Teachers' Seminary should have annexed to it, or rather as an integral part of it, a model, or experimental school for practice.

Were I to be placed in a Normal School again, the only difference in my aim would be to give more attention to the development of the faculties, to the spirit and motives by which a teacher should be moved, to physical and moral education, to the inculcation of good principles and good manners.

In conclusion, allow me to recapitulate. It was my aim, and it would be my aim again, in a Normal School, to raise up for our common schools especially, a better class of teachers,-teachers who would not only teach more and better than those already in the field, but who would govern better; teachers, who would teach in harmony with the laws of juvenile development, who would secure diligent study and good lessons and sure progress, without a resort to emulation and premiums, and good order from higher motives than the fear of the rod or bodily pain; teachers, who could not only instruct well in the common branches, as reading, writing, arithmetic, &c., but give valuable information on a variety of topics, such as accounts, history, civil institutions, political economy, and physiology; bring into action the various powers of children, and prepare them for the duties of practical life; teachers, whose whole influence on their pupils, direct and indirect, should be good, tending to make them, not only good readers, geographers, grammarians, arithmeticians, &c., but good scholars, good children, obedient, kind, respectful, mannerly, truthful; and in due time, virtuous, useful citizens, kind neighbors, high-minded, noble, pious men and women. And this I attempted to do by inculcating the truth in the art of teaching and governing,-the truth in all things; and by giving them a living example of it in my own practice."

II. THE CULTIVATION OF THE REFLECTIVE FACULTIES.

Lectures addressed to Young Teachers.

BY WILLIAM RUSSELL, LANCASTER, MASS.

Ed. American Journal of Education, (Boston,) 1826-29.

[Concluded from No. XI., page 216.]

II. THE ACTUATING PRINCIPLE OF THE REFLECTIVE FACULTIES: INQUIRY.

Its analogy to Curiosity.-When we trace the natural development of the human faculties, in their first stage of perceptive action, we observe them working by a law of incitement manifesting itself in the restless principle of curiosity,—the desire of knowledge. It is this feeling which prompts the child's appealing question, as he points to a new object that has attracted his attention,-" What is this?" But, as his reflective power developes, and his capacity of knowledge enlarges, his desire of information pierces deeper; and his interrogation takes a shape which indicates a more profound exercise of thought. He now inquires not "What is this?"—but "How," or "Why is this?"

Reason, as the principle of intelligence which gleans and assorts the contributions of knowledge, has helped him to understand the exterior character of the object of his attention, and by the due exercise of judgment, in analytic observation, to distinguish, and classify, and denominate it accordingly. But a deeper thirst than mere curiosity as to external phenomena and characteristics, now actuates him: a inore powerful instinct is at work within him. Reason has reached a maturer stage of development, and, prompted by inquiry, sets out the young explorer in quest not of mere facts, but of relations and causes. He thus learns to trace the successive links of connected phenomena and facts,-to investigate the connection itself, and determine its character, to search for interior and hidden springs of sequence, to arrive at principles and causes, to read and interpret laws, and, ultimately, to reach the certainty and the completeness of science.

The appetite of curiosity is satisfied with the knowledge of phenomena and of facts individually, or even as detached matters of observation inquiry is restless till it arrives at their connections and dependencies, and the mind is thus put in possession of those relations of knowledge which constitute principles and establish truth. As an impelling and actuating force, inquiry, or inquisition, performs for the intellectual powers, in their comparative maturity, the same genial

office which was discharged by the awakening influence of curiosity, at an earlier stage of mental activity. It is, in fact, but the same instinctive law of the irrepressible desire to know, only working in a higher sphere, and for a higher end. Curiosity, working on the perceptive faculties, induces a tendency to observation, and forms the habit of wakeful attention to external phenomena, as the elements of KNOWLEDGE: inquiry, as the expressed desire to ascertain relations, principles, and laws, awakens the reflective faculties, and impels to investigation, with a view to the discovery of TRUTH. In the development and formation of mental character, curiosity, as the desire of knowledge, tends to create an attentive and observing mind, characterized by intelligence: inquiry, as the quest of truth, produces a contemplative, thoughtful, reflective, reasoning mind, addicted to exploration and research, and delighting in the attainments of science.

But in this higher sphere of intellectual activity, the human being is still acting under the guidance of an implanted instinct;—no longer, indeed, a mere unconscious stimulus, but a conscious and recognized impulse of progression toward a definite end and a satisfy ing consummation. The tendency, however, proves itself equally irresistible in the one form as in the other. For, while the child is sometimes so absorbed in the contemplation of the visible attractions of objects of beauty or of curiosity, as to forego even the calls of appetite for the sustenance of his body, in obedience to the more imperious claims of the wants of his intellectual nature; the adult man may lose himself yet more profoundly, when inquiry compels him to investigation, and plunges him into depths of thought in which he becomes lost to all surrounding objects and relations, and, like Newton, meditates on the fall of an apple, with an intensity and concentration of reflective attention which beguile him of needed sleep, and render him unaware of the presence of food or of the fact of his having omitted its use.

III. THE TENDENCY OF ACTION IN THE REFLECTIVE FACULTIES: INVESTIGATION.

Its manifold directions.-Inquiry, as the grand prompter of the reflective faculties, impels to habits of investigation and research. It not only leads to the scrutiny of the present, in quest of causes and of truth, but ransacks the records of the past, and penetrates into the probabilities of the future. It impels reason to explore the inmost recesses of nature, in pursuit of latent causes. It prompts man to conduct the experiments by which he interrogates nature of her processes, and wins, as the reward of his faithful inquest, the answers which he records in the archives of science. In the relations of moral truth, it