image that was forming in his mind. Unless, therefore, ideas be infused into the mind of a pupil in a concrete form and associated with some palpable object, there is no guarantee that they will remain there any time. And, unless too, the teacher leave his Latinity of style, and be content patiently to administer instruction in a diluted Saxon phraseology and simple terms, he will only deceive himself as to the result of his labours.

But training comprehends much more than this. It is something beyond the mere communicating of information. It is a cultivation of the intellect itself, leading it to think and to deduce facts and conclusions from its own resources. Teaching is a process simply intended to enlighten and inform the mind, whatever be the nature of the subject communicated; but training is an agency that takes cognizance of the whole powers both of body and mind. It is, besides, merely the perceptive faculties that are appealed to in teaching, upon which are imprinted ideas of sensation only, or at the most, reflective ideas through the channel of the senses. These faculties are thus the recipients of materials or data, which the judgment combines and arranges, giving birth to original thoughts of its own. Much, therefore, of course, depends upon teaching, as, according to the number and variety of facts and impressions made upon the intellect, has the judgment more or less the means at command of making its selection, and arriving at sound conclusions. In proportion to the vividness of these impressions, too, does the mind become enlightened, and the judgment see to form correct opinions.

Still, this is only a knowledge without wisdom. Without a sufficiency of information, in reasoning, conclusions may be drawn from too few premises, giving rise to what are called narrow, opinions, or opinions resting upon so

slender a basis that they cannot be supported. A person who is thus defectively informed, and whose opinions are so easily overthrown, is said to be of a weak understanding, compared with another whose opinions stand upon a broader foundation of facts. But the judgment must also be guided in making a proper selection of materials for this foundation. It is not enough that it sees them, and knows their individual qualities; it must exert itself in selecting and combining in sufficient number and variety, such as are proper to form a sure foundation of arguments for its opinions. And the strength of these can only be tested by bringing them into contact with the opinions of another, in which comparison such as are most strongly supported by the evidence of facts, will prevail, just as, in a physical contest, the stronger party will overcome the weaker. Yet the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong; neither is it always the individual having his mind best stored with facts, whc is the ablest reasoner. In wrestling, a slender man, well skilled and trained, may overcome a stronger, if less acquainted with the art, and a mind much exercised in thinking, though less informed, will often arrive at more just conclusions than another highly enlightened and learned individual. Practice, therefore, in the art of reasoning, as well as in all other arts, is the true secret of perfection. There may, also, however, be a right and a wrong practice. Every one reasons in one way or another, and puts forth the powers of his mind into action, as naturally as those of his body; but as in the physical exercise alluded to, in which certain principles must be acted upon, to ensure skill and dexterity, so must the reasoning faculties be artificially cultivated to develop fully their inherent strength. The inexperienced judgment must have a model by which to compare its

opinions, and this is afforded in the matured and experienced judgment of another. It must also have some motives held out to it to allure to the practice of judging correctly, which motives form a sort of leading strings in the process of mental training; and it is a proper understanding of these, and skill in using them, that constitute the indispensable qualification of a mental trainer.

Between teaching and training the mind, there is therefore a vast difference, and much more professional art necessary to the one than to the other. The former is simply an implanting of knowledge in the mind; the latter is calling the mind itself into action, and teaching it a process of self-culture. In gardening, it is a much simpler operation merely to plant a tree, than afterwards to prune, bend, and direct its pliant branches. And as the root of the plant draws nourishment from the soil, the latter must also be cultivated and improved, in proportion to the fertility of which, will be the luxuriance and growth of the plant. So, in training the mind, its own native and artificial powers must be drawn out, and rendered available in cultivating and enriching the tree of knowledge so as to bring forth the fruits of wisdom.

This is best effected by a peculiar mode of interrogation, to be explained hereafter, and it matters little for such a purpose what may be the subject of the lesson. By training the tendrils of the vine in a particular direction, the whole plant will follow in the same course; and the mind may be as much drawn into a habit of observation and reflection from a well-directed lesson on a pin, as from the science of astronomy. A focus of attraction must be presented to the mind to concentrate its ideas upon a certain point, forming a stronger brilliancy, the reflection of which may develop new thoughts and ideas.

It requires, however, no ordinary insight into the workings of the human mind, thus to perceive upon what subjects it is enlightened, so as to reflect from thence a borrowed lustre upon the more obscure, by means of analogy and illustration. By these, the mind is selfilluminated, and reason shown the right path, and it is making use of certain collateral points of information as landmarks to guide it in its course; but it also requires the outgoing of the mind itself, to arrive at a right conclusion. The chief difficulty as well as the principal duty of the trainer is, therefore, to overcome the mental inertia by removing all needless obstacles out of the way, rendering the path smooth and pleasant, and giving an impulse by means of some exciting or alluring motive. If this object be attained, that is, if the mind be made willing to enter upon a system, and follow out a method of inductive reasoning, until a habit of close thinking be formed, it will ultimately do the same thing it was shown to do, and find out right conclusions itself. "Where there is a will there is a way," is a proverb equally true in mental development and self-culture, as in anything else; and it is the trainer's noblest task so to harmonise this will and practice as to produce habits of correct thinking.

To form this frame of mind is, therefore, of infinitely more importance than to communicate mere knowledge. The latter can do little more than impart individual ideas and isolated facts; the former habituates the reasoning powers to embrace a connected train of thoughts and to arrive at general conclusions. A person will become sooner acquainted with the different streets and localities. of a large city, if with a little assistance and his own. observation he find his way through them, than by putting himself entirely under the guidance of another. By the latter mode he might reach a certain point sooner,

and by a shorter way, than if he had to find it out himself, but by the former, the general direction of the town would be much more strongly imprinted upon his memory, and a habit of attentive observation more fixed, by reasoning out the position of an unknown point from certain known ones, and thus reaching it, than by being led to the place, or shown it by another. It might also be more agreeable for the time to be guided thither, but it would be more advantageous for the future, to guide himself. Still some assistance and information might be necessary to point out the intricacies and windings of the town to a stranger, and a similar assistance is necessary to guide the unsophisticated mind into a right train of ideas in forming a correct judgment. And herein lies the great difference between a trained and a self-taught master. The latter proceeds at once to tell his pupil all he knows, to store his mind with facts, and dates, and circumstances in the abstract, which the mind itself has nothing to do but to receive. Now, if in the case of teaching a pupil unexplained words, they remain in the memory as so many dead letters, no less do these gratuitously imparted ideas only overload its powers without increasing its activity in administering to the judgment. The strength of the mind, like that of the body, is increased by exercising itself, and by having opportunities afforded for reflection, and taking cognisance of its own thoughts and feelings. To guide it into such a channel, therefore, and to supply it with proper materials for reflection, are not matters that fall naturally in the way of the self-instructed teacher. In short, when we consider the complex mechanism of the mind itself, its difficulty of being properly understood by the most profound thinkers, and the nature of those instruments and apparatus best adapted to set it in motion, and give it a right direction, and reflect that