elementary principles, that consistency can be given to the fabric. When the memory of the student, therefore, can extend no farther, he ascends this platform of slate arithmetic, and carries on his work to the higher regions of abstract calculation. Nor, indeed, when he has got a slate and arithmetic book before him, ought the master to intermit his guidance. Many principles must be illustrated, and modes of operation shown, and the pupil must see these with his eyes, in model sums upon a black board, the master not only telling him how certain things should be done, but doing them—not only showing the way, but walking in it.

WRITING. In learning this mechanical art, little or no reflection is necessary, but much observation. It is a kindred art to that of drawing, if indeed it be not a modification of the same; in both it is the nerves and muscles of the eye and the hand that must be educated. Simple lessons in drawing should precede those of writing. Being accustomed accurately to regard the form and position of external objects, as straight lines, angles, squares, the pupil should be trained to delineate these on paper, that his hand may attain to a degree of pliancy in holding the pencil, before the more delicate operation of guiding the pen.

This power of observation is in itself capable of vast improvement by exercise. When a child is first born into the world, and opens those "blue pellucid orbs" of his upon the objects of nature, it is only the most prominent of these, the outlines of creation, that make an impression upon him. But, by a lengthened survey, minuter things picture themselves upon the retina, and still smaller in proportion to the ardour of his gaze. Now, as the means of such observation are almost infinite, from the rolling planets of heaven to the myriad

hosts of animalcula peopling a drop of water, this faculty must depend for strength and development upon its direction towards such phenomena, and its continued exercise by the excitement of curiosity.

Ocular vision, too, is the exact counterpart of mental, and a power of visual discrimination, the source of acute thinking. The intellect of an unobservant person is obtuse, from considering only large ideas, but the wits are sharpened by a minute analysis of thought, as the eye is improved by a close inspection of objects. Neither has a child any idea of distance, until he has tangibly ascertained the fact. He must, in some degree, measure certain distances by feeling the objects that bound them before gaining ideas of such distances; but having obtained these by touch, he infers others by sight, making in a manner those first ideas measuring rods of other spaces. His ideas of figure are also first gained by touch, and inferred by sight; and it seems pretty certain that the eye at first receives inverted impressions of objects which the experience of touch alone rectifies. Even in mature life, the eye occasionally relies for assistance upon the hand, and also the hand upon the eye. In an exhibition of wax-work one is often tempted to touch certain images to see whether they be not really alive; while in archery the experienced eye marks out the distance, and the direction of the arrow, before the hand impels it along the same path. So that between these two senses there is the closest sympathy, each materially aiding the other, but also capable of much improvement separately. A blind man has the sense of feeling more acute than one who sees, because it has been more educated; and a sailor can distinguish the character of a distant vessel, that to the untrained of a passenger would appear but a speck upon the horizon. Imagination also assists the

eye

reason, as by partially seeing an object, the fancy can often portray the rest of the picture.

It is, then, upon the principle of this mutual obedience of the eye to the hand, and the hand to the eye, that the art of drawing and writing depends, but the attainment of skill in either must be acquired by practice alone. In the proper direction of this practice, therefore, the same rule holds as in the teaching of every other branch, and that is to simplify the study by analyzing its materials into their elements. In drawing, external objects are analyzed, and fragments of them first submitted to practice, and when proficiency has been acquired in delineating these separately, several parts are drawn in combination, and so on to whole outlines and entire pictures. So in writing, an equally synthetic process is necessary; written characters must be analyzed into their elements, and each slope, angle, and straight line referred to a particular class, and practised separately. In some cases, skeleton diagrams of these are given to be filled up, that the hand may be guided into the right track, and training lines to sustain the right proportions. The pen must be held at the proper angle, and the fingers trained to the right position. The fragments of letters must also be copied large, that their parts and proportions may be better seen, and that the muscles of the hand may gain pliancy in executing them. When facility in forming the different straight lines, curves, and angles has been attained, these are next formed into letters, and practised in combination. Letters are combined into words. Large hand diminishes into half-text, and halftext into finished current hand.

There are of course several modes of teaching these principles, but in all cases a black board, with copybooks to correspond, and a master's hand to form the characters

before the eye, are indispensable. The copyist has thus all the means of improvement in writing placed within his reach, and in proportion to his care and diligence will he excel in the art. Some people smile at the idea of teaching writing upon anything like scientific rules, but science and invention both have been necessary thus to simplify its initiatory principles. The honour of such invention is due to M. Mulhauser, of Geneva, whose method has been adopted in Germany, in the chief normal schools of France, and has lately been introduced into the Battersea Training School by Mr. Mc Leod, and is or was taught by him to classes of the metropolitan schoolmasters in the School of Method assembling in Exeter Hall.

CHAPTER XI.

GEOGRAPHY.-This science gives a description of the earth and its contents. It is, therefore, a vastly comprehensive study; yet its principles can be made both easy and interesting to children when taught naturally, as it affords the utmost facility for inductive lessoning. Every child possesses a certain amount of geographical knowledge before any formal lessons can be given to him. He knows the locality of his own house, the garden or places around it, and the houses and fields. beyond. He sees the boundaries and divisions of hedges and walls defining the properties of different individuals. He may have seen a river, a sea, a

mountain, and an island, different kinds of soils-such, at least, as a barren field, a pasture field, and a field of corn, with fine weather and stormy, different sorts of animals, manufactures, and commerce, and also different customs and manners among his neighbours. All these circumstances, and many others, gleaned by his own observation and a previous course of mental training, must be familiar to him, and from this existing knowledge all his future discoveries in geography should arise. These are the seeds of the science shed upon his understanding by the hand of nature, but requiring artificial means to supply them with nourishment, and skilful cul