mere rote, but still it is teaching only. The sense and meaning of what is read, if not understood, is endeavoured to be conveyed in different terms. One word is explained by its synonyme, and if that is not sufficient, by another, and the spirit or ideas of the text thus attempted to be unfolded. As most of this duty, however, devolves upon monitors, even were it an efficient mode of instruction, it must still be but imperfectly performed. But it is seldom efficient, even in the best hands. To explain one word by another, where the idea is not given at the same time, is like exchanging one coin for another of the same value, without receiving or even knowing the present use of it. It may increase a stock of words in the memory, but does not communicate an equal number of ideas to the understanding.

Words are not ideas, much less are they things. They are merely the representatives of the latter. Instead, therefore, of explaining one word by another, in an attempt to get at the idea, and thence a knowledge of the object, the process, as nature herself teaches, ought entirely to be reversed. The presence of an object will impress an idea of it, and when this is received, the name should then be communicated, which being either seen or heard, will, in the absence of the archetype, ever afterwards recall that idea. Now every word has a meaning, in some degree different from another, so that one term can never be fully explained by its cognate. The earth is not a globe, neither is a globe a sphere, but the idea under each term is different from the other. The teaching of synonymes, therefore, refers more to analysing the difference than the resemblance of ideas, and is a study for maturer minds. Hence, by this verbal mode of explanation, instead of giving a clearer idea of one thing by the name of another, there is a danger of only

giving two words for one, and no idea at all. The natural course of mental abstraction is upwards, from things to ideas, and from ideas to names. If an idea does not occur by its own name, the object should either be shown, or pictured out clearly, and this many words cannot always do, much less a mere synonyme. This kind of teaching to children, therefore, as has been mentioned, can merely give a variety of expression without clearness of definition; and while, as a whole, the Sessional School exhibits many excellences, these seem to consist more in improvements upon former modes of teaching, than in having adopted, as a basis, the true principles of training.

German writers, in their numerous treatises on education, divide it into three heads-pedagogik, didaktik, and methodik-or science, art, and method. The first comprehends simply a knowledge of its principles; the second, the practice of its art; and the third, certain modes of administering that practice. This seems a just and philosophical division of the subject, as between art and method there is a very necessary distinction, as much so, indeed, as between science and art. Method is as much more mechanical than art, as art is than science. Science is a pure operation of mind; art is that operation physically developed; while method is a certain mode of its development. Without knowledge, art would be imperfect, but, without method, imperfectly manifested. Both art and science are necessary to construct a watch, but two workmen, equally scientific and skilful, may not construct an equally good watch. One may have a better mode of doing certain little things about it, which will consequently be better done, while the same things, done in a different manner, may be worse executed. One artisan, from a certain mode of arranging his instruments,

having everything at hand and in its proper place at the proper time, will accelerate an operation that requires speed, and thus do it better than another who has a confused mode of arrangement. There may also, however, be different modes of doing the same thing equally well. As fine a polish may be given to a surface by holding the polishing instrument in one way as in another, and a thing may be as speedily and well executed by one arrangement of tools as by another; still there must be some correct modes of doing a thing, otherwise it cannot be done correctly. Certain methods of administering the art of education are, therefore, as necessary to efficiency in teaching, as a just knowledge of its principles is to lay a proper foundation for the art.

Now the organisation of a school, whether simultaneous, monitorial, or mixed, comes immediately under the head of method; and in the schools just alluded to, much imperfection necessarily exists from the classes of children educated in them. In any one school there are far too many pupils to receive efficient instruction from one master. If he had no more pupils than he could educate himself, he would need no assistance, but when the numbers go beyond his personal management, he must call in some kind of aid. If it be as good as he can give, the work will, of course, be as well performed; but if not, it must be worse. Now, when that assistance is given by mere boys, it must either be applied to inferior work, or the ordinary work done in an inferior manner. Consequently, monitorism is only the remedy of an evil, which would not exist if each master had only a suitable number of pupils for his own individual management. For this reason, a purely monitorial school can hardly be a proper model-training school, so far, at least, as the intellectual and moral work is concerned;

and unless the head master with companies of the children exhibit, in his own example, a model of the art of mental training, and the students also practise the same model under his eye and directions, even this organic apparatus will be incomplete. So far as the writer is aware, there are no institutions where the monitorial system is carried to such perfection as in the Borough-road Training School, and the National Schools at Westminster. It is saying but little of these excellent seminaries, however, to cite them as good examples of a mere system, of organisation. Many of the best discoveries in the science and art of training, are there adopted, and they annually disseminate over the country hundreds of well-qualified young men, imbued with a similar spirit of improvement.

The method of education also embraces the arrangement of desks, suitable school apparatus, and all those external appliances, which may differ according to circumstances, but without some proper arrangement of which little good can be accomplished. It also regards the attitude and gait of the master, the command of his features, and the very tones of his voice. From these merely organic arrangements, however, it ascends to the purely intellectual and moral arts of the science, taking cognisance of the best modes of teaching all the branches of study, and of training all the powers of the human being.

In no school does more attention seem to have been paid to the improvement of method in these latter departments than in the village and training schools at Battersea, near London, established and supported chiefly under the auspices of Dr. Kay Shuttleworth, one of the Poor Law Commissioners, whose benevolent exertions have done so much for the cause of education generally. By way of

following up this idea, schools of method have been established in the metropolis, in which instructions are given regarding the best modes of teaching the most essential branches of education. It is not intended to enter into a detail of these branches, or the methods pursued in each; an analysis of a few of them may serve to show the philosophical principles upon which they are based. Of these, the first in order is naturally

the art of Reading.