are gazing listlessly around, or covertly working out their roguish devices; but as they already had gathered before the chart or blackboard, so can they now take their places, an interested class, pleased to apprehend the thoughts expressed in the well-known characters. They have the material prepared, so that instead of blundering blindly and hopelessly over the darksome way, they find the little mental pictures following in pleasing variety before their minds, as they compass line after line.

In telling of what they have read, they have no longer the trouble of repeating the precise words as read, for the familiar image is before them, and with an ever-increasing and more clearly-defined vocabulary, and more correct idiom, can they reproduce the story, as they would describe an object or a picture presented to the eye. Now, too, they may be led to make their own little stories, or give descriptions of what they have seen; by nicer perception to discern new qualities, or uses of articles in the room or at home, and ere long place them in visible form on their slates, converting their talks into veritable compositions.

That old bugbear of composition will soon disappear when we understand that it is simply putting on paper what we have made familiar by discussion or study, or perhaps what we have already said. Like that pointing with pencil or finger, to which I have alluded, many of the faults which we find it so difficult to remedy in after days and years, are faults into which we ourselves have led them by our early methods, or want of method.

This clear perception of the thought is the basis of all their mental life. In the neglect of this lies the lack of expression in reading, so often noticeable not only in the lower but in the higher grades, and sometimes in candidates for a teacher's certificate. There is no expression,

because there is nothing to express. It is a mere calling of empty words and barren sentences. It is often a physical rather than a mental act, and even in that respect is little better than a failure; for the absence of thought has left uncalled for the clearer, distinct enunciation, the nicer inflections and shades of meaning, which demand skill in the use of the organs of speech. Such an exercise dulls the perceptions, deadens the sensibilities, and dwarfs the reason, and returns the pupil to his seat a more inattentive, weaker, and stupider scholar than before.

Nor does the evil end here. It has made the next lesson more difficult. What the pupil might have accomplished with profit and delight, had the previous lesson been clearly understood, finding but an added inspiration, from his very habit of success, over the little hindrances in his path, now appears an insurmountable obstacle, from which his indolent nature shrinks unabashed. Nor yet have we exhausted the evil. Like all physical and moral decay, it spreads and perpetuates itself. Over the enchanting pages of history or biography, from which, with a thrill of joyous exultation, he should be able to extract the worth by a single perusal, he stumbles and blunders wearily and uninformed. And if, as in the last struggles of expiring hope, he essays with convulsive energy the task with contracted brow and clutching his hair -you have seen him study-he begins: "That night, leaving his camp-fires "-" that night, leaving his campfires"-"that night, leaving his camp-fires"—"burning to deceive the enemy"-"burning to deceive the enemy "" burning to deceive the enemy"-"he swept by country roads"-"he swept by country roads""he swept by country roads"-"round the British "66 round the British "" round the British." Words!

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words!! words!!! Ask him now of Washington's attack on Princeton. You can guess at the result. He has no idea that reading is study.

This perfect union, this blending of the word with the thought, the sign with the thing signified, at the beginning does not come from the dictionary, but from use. It must, from its very nature, be essentially accomplished before grammar or dictionary can be of any avail. And there can be no greater bar to success, no more deadly foe to real progress, than too early reliance upon either of them. A little book recently republished, written by a young Portuguese, is a good illustration of dictionarylearning, equaled only by some specimens from our own schools. The foundation must be securely laid in the familiar conversation, the examination and comparison, the question and answer, as the child has already so successfully begun to do in the home and on the street. It is astonishing how seldom the little Arab of the street, or the little cherub of the home, for that matter, ever misapplies a slang word or phrase.

And when he can read with some facility, then should come the supplementary book, or little pages, which he has not already learned by rote from listening to his elder brothers or the more advanced classes-something which has the same words employed in other relations, and with different shades of meaning. Not by reading and rereading the same extract over and over again, till it can be said backward or forward, or either side up, with equal ease, nor by the long rhetorical drill, does the pupil learn to read. Not by telling him to give this or that inflection or emphasis, or by parroting such and such tones, does he compass it. Find what he means by his reading; why does he read so and so? With his own understanding, when he has any at all, he may be right, and, if

properly taught, will rarely be in the wrong, however he may differ from you or me. The prattling tyrants of the household do not often err in inflection, emphasis, or intonation. When the word, by use and practice, has become itself an embodied thought, then we can pass from the concrete and imperfect to the abstract and ideal. Then may we claim companionship with the wise and great of the world and sit at the banquet of the sages, furnished from all ages and every clime with the science, the wisdom, the wit, and the poetry of which we can now be the appreciative partakers. Then, leaving the paths of error into which their feet unwittingly strayed, and carefully shunning the false lights that have lured them on to danger and doubt, may we with safety and assured success direct our course toward the abode of a wise and noble humanity.

The word, spoken and written, as the expression, the embodiment of thought, is the vitalizing element of all civilization and enlightenment, making each of us the sum of all, rendering each onward step secure, and furnishing in its records the foundation for further progress. In the beginning of all advancement, with its creative and preserving power, is the word, and without the word there is no accurate, true thought.

Number, too—the motive and the measure of all material progress and the explanation of so many phenomena-must be included in all true education. A happy day for society, as well as for the deserving teacher, will it be when the mentometer shall be devised of such delicate construction as to enable us to record and present to the public eye the quantity and quality of mental and moral growth and development, when our record-books can be read as easily as their ledgers.

Nor will the value of the study of numbers be less

ened when we shall rid ourselves of the old-time error that it is the true test of mental power-that he who is good in figures is good in everything. By trying to secure too much, we may lose our hold upon the true benefits to be derived. There are mathematicians and mathematicians some of sound judgment and intellect have I met, and some numerical cranks. In pure mathematics we reason from definitions, certain and unvarying, which, in the real world, in the contact of mind with mind, we never have, but deal largely with probabilities and presumed motives, where success depends largely upon knowledge of character, of men, and upon skill in forecasting results.

Not only facility in the use of numbers, but clear perception and sound judgment in obtaining correct data, and prompt, decisive, and skillful action, are needed in the affairs of life. Though mathematical has little in common with moral reasoning, yet the mathematical sense -skill in the application of numbers-is important alike to the banker and the artist, the astronomer and the poet, the musician and the housekeeper. Here, too, should the child's early, his natural method be regarded. We should seek, not to obstruct and dam the sparkling current of the child-nature, producing but a stagnant marsh, or at best a dull canal, but to guide it in gradually deepening channels by a better way, through greener meadows and more flowery fields, not where it will be held barred and bound as by icy fetters, but with the sunlight playing upon its surface, making sweet music of its rippling murmurs, ere yet it learns with calmer flow to bear the burdens of the merchandise and navies of the world.

To observe, to think, to do, in sweet succession till almost blended into one, are still the threads of that golden cord by which the pupil is guided through the