equally shown to be the result of care and diligence in small things; and in all such biographical notices, examples are given how we, too, may benefit ourselves and others. So in history, or universal biography, unless it be taught inductively, it cannot become a practically useful study. It gives the experience of the past for the guidance of the future, but unless the causes of a nation's prosperity be shown, it cannot afford to us a practical lesson for our guidance. There is little use in teaching a mere number of facts and statistical details of kings and governments, wars and conquests, with the rise and fall of states and dynasties, unless the causes of such events be also shown, and their beneficial or prejudicial consequences upon society traced. To teach history in any other way is merely to know a nation as it is or has been, while the true object is to know how it became so, that the same means may be again employed or avoided to gain prosperity or avoid adversity.

The same illustration of method might be continued through all the other branches of study, as well as the preceding. I have merely taken up these few, as being common to almost all classes of schools: in places where the elements of modern science are taught, improved plans of teaching have naturally followed their adoption. Into a general knowledge of these sciences, however, and the best plans of teaching them, must the student at a normal institution be also initiated.

But a still further knowledge of his art is necessary, than a mere acquaintance with this its instrumentary practice. He must have, no less, an acquaintance with the object upon which his art has to be applied. He must have an acquaintance with the principles of mental and moral philosophy and physiology, and be a deep student of human character, from his own observation of which he

must deduce his own principles of guidance, that he may be able to accommodate and modify his normal lessons to every variety of character presented to him. No teacher is able, nor, if able, ought to tie himself down to carry out the same details of any system in all cases. These must be left to be regulated in an infinity of ways, by the ever-varying circumstances of the pupils. There is no universal gauge for human intellect,

CHAPTER XII.

THE preceding analysis has been chiefly confined to an inquiry into the nature of the instruments of education, their fitness for the work, and the manner in which they ought to be applied, or are misapplied. And on the whole it may be subjoined, that, until lately, they were seldom if ever found engaged upon the right part of the work, or if so, adequate to it, which indeed is but an inference from the fact, that the operators themselves were untaught and inexperienced artists. Let us now shortly examine the nature of the work to be done by these instruments, the subject to be educated by these branches.

Suppose, then, a sculptor got into his hands a block of marble fresh from the quarry, and that it was his design to operate upon it in forming an image, he would first naturally examine into the nature of the material itself. He would see whether there were any blemishes or deficiencies in the mass. If there were, he would scrutinise the nature of them, and ascertain how far they might be repaired or dressed over, so as not materially to mar the image he had in view to make. He would test the hardness or softness of its grain, and discover its capability of being wrought, and according to the nature of its stamina would he consider what instruments could best be brought to bear upon it; if of a hard and difficult

K

texture, he would use keen-edged tools and apply more strength, if soft, more dexterity of hand. Besides, according to that member of the statue on which he was engaged, would he require a particular kind of instrument. To rough-hew the amorphous mass, he would apply the larger and less highly-polished tools: to chisel out an arm, or a leg, differently edged instruments. To carve a neck, a chin, a cheek, and an eye, around which "all the graces might flutter," more delicately polished and finer instruments still; and at this part of the process, his own ingenuity and skill would be taxed to the utmost, in giving a peculiar expression of character and countenance, according to the model of some image he had in his eye. And it need not be added, that not only according to the native excellence of the material, but the artist's skill, would be the perfection of that character, and the general elegance and grace of the

statue.

This block of marble, then, brought to the studio, is a child sent to school; the sculptor is the trainer, and the instruments for operating upon him are the different branches of education. It is a human being, naturally in a rude and inert condition; yet having the germs of all those faculties in perfect existence, each in its degree, by which he may ultimately attain so high a rank in the scale of creation. To call forth these into full activity and energy, and to add grace and refinement to their practical uses, is the office of a trainer. Now, as the external appliances of art were necessary in the case of the statue, otherwise it would still have remained a shapeless mass, so also must care, attention, and proper means be employed, to develop and bring out the latent faculties of the living image. True, these would grow of themselves to a certain extent, and in a certain direction; yet without

extrinsic and guiding influences, they would naturally exhibit the rankness of a wilderness, whereas by proper artificial guidance, they might be compared with the bloom and fertility of a garden.

Thus much every one admits, and while it is also granted, that "the proper study of mankind is man,” it is not so easily decided what man is, what are the separate elements of his constitution, and consequently how that study should be conducted. It cannot, indeed, be said, that the study of man has been neglected. His bodily powers and spiritual faculties have been the subject of investigation almost since time began. But no results, corresponding to such labours, have yet been obtained from the erroneous methods of inquiry ever adopted. Like other sciences, man's nature was examined hypothetically, rather than analytically. Theories were assumed, and attempted to be solved by facts, instead of facts being made the basis of correct opinions; and until the principles of inductive philosophy were applied in the analysis, but comparatively few sound conclusions were ever obtained. Scholastic logic and metaphysics exhausted their weapons of argument in splitting his thoughts and sentiments, his powers and capacities, into fragments innumerable, out of which many systems of abstract philosophy arose, gratifying, perhaps, to the speculative mind to investigate, but shedding a very dim and imperfect light upon the practical moralities of life. The science of mental philosophy is, therefore, still in its infancy. The late discoveries in chemistry, indeed, with the revelations of anatomy, have thrown much light on the material organs of the body, and an onward progress of discovery is still making with regard to his mental powers. And it is only by a continuation of a similar process, that the anatomy of mind will lead to any sound