True thought is more than compiling facts, and the correct expression of that thought in well chosen words and molded phrase and sentence better than glib recital; and whether the pupil agrees with the author should cut a small figure in determining the worth of his recitation.

The worth of the recitation who shall tell? What does it show of the power of application acquired; of the careful analysis, the thoughtful investigation? Has he a firm grasp of the subject, any correct principles to aid him hereafter, any living idea that is to germinate and develop into anything of worth in forming his mind or heart?

And the mark which he shall secure, the penciled record of his worth? Oh! the blight of this marking upon all true scholarship and healthful growth! blighting alike to teacher and pupil-presenting to the pupil unworthy and dwarfing motives, and barring the teacher from his proud privilege of instructing and molding the character and life, and reducing him to the low level of the billiard-marker.

Not for a mark is the recitation held; but to give a new impulse, to point the way to more assured success. But this fixed attention, this keen thought and close reasoning, however secured and however pleasing and inspiring it may be, is work, and the stronger the magnetic force the more exhaustive the effort. Mental exertion, too, like physical, has its limits.

An hour of true recitation, discussing topics of interest, giving the arguments pro and con, enlivening the dry statement with lively illustration, should have had quite as much time for preparation. No student should come to the recitation, to the elaboration of a subject in history, literature, mathematics, or science, who has not

had the time to examine the matter thoroughly and, to his ability, exhaustively.

A limit then is set to the work of the school. I recently looked over the course of study of a large city, in which twenty-one hours of the twenty-five was prescribed as the minimum amount of time for recitation for the week.

Why do our pupils spend so many years over their arithmetics and geographies without getting into them? Isn't it a greater wonder that so many of them stay with us all these years?

My fellow-teachers, let us not willingly blind ourselves to the truth. Our pupils in the cities have too much school. From six years of age to ten, twelve, or eighteen, according to their endurance, they go to school, till they weary of the very name of school-generally by the time they reach the age of ten or twelve-and entreat their parents to let them do something.

Three hours a day of recitation should surely be enough for any pupil in the grammar grades-it is all the colleges demand; nor need the high-schools require more.

We stultify our pupils by asking of them more than a bright, earnest boy or girl can safely perform, and stand amazed at the result.

We absorb all the time in recitation, and devote it largely to dawdling listlessness, leaving little time for good, close, personal effort in fruitful study. Is this overdrawn?

And what of the teacher who is to secure this attention, ever alert, watchful, patient, courteous alike to pupil and parent?

Even the post of teacher in the common school, though she be of sound lungs, of digestion unimpaired, with the ruddy glow of youth still undimmed, is no sinecure.

In the early grades, before the little ones can study by themselves, save in some little diversion, some busy work with objects, the recitation is not, in any true sense, a recitation, but an exercise, which should be brief, bright, and interesting. Five or ten minutes will be enough for the little work, speedily to be repeated.

And in the higher primary grades no lessons should be assigned, I think, for home study. The confinement of the school-hours is enough, and the leisure time out of school should be employed in developing their physical nature, in becoming familiar with their surroundings, in learning something of life, of nature, and in searching out the hidden, the mysterious meaning of the thousand things around them.

In the grammar grades, too, at least one half, or in the higher classes, one third, of the school-hours should be left for study. No lessons for home study in the primary grades should be possible, and in the grammar and high school grades very little should be assigned for preparation out of school. Give the little fourth grader a book to read, if you will, a book that he can not help reading, that he will want to read aloud to his parents; but not a spelling-lesson to be learned, to be written ten times; a page of history to memorize; some puzzling problems to solve; or composition to be written by his parents or older sisters.

The lessons should, for the most part, be prepared in school. The hours, before and after school, are little enough for healthful growth, for becoming acquainted with the inner and the outer duties of home and real life, and for that knowledge above and beyond all school instruction, which every boy who is a boy must have, and for which many a girl might barter much of her acquirements in music and drawing.

The teacher who allows the pupil, after answering a question or two, to turn to some other pursuit may not be wholly wrong; she leaves some time for study, but she greatly discounts her own power and influence, and sinks herself into a very insignificant factor of the real school-life.

The pupil should have his close, strict, and accurate recitation, but should also have in school - hours the time and the opportunity for preparing himself for the proper presentation of the assigned subject for the day and the hour of recitation. There can be no true performance without due preparation.

Closely connected with this home study is associated in my mind another practice, once so common, and which can hardly be too strongly condemned. I mean the practice of keeping after school, formerly the reserve force of so many a teacher, and one of the greatest wrongs in the schools of to-day, doing more to hinder progress, to deaden interest, to dwarf ambition, and cause a distaste, a hatred of school, school duties, and school privileges, than all other influences combined.

Keeping after school fails, and must fail, to promote good conduct, to secure well-prepared lessons, to incite ambition, to awaken exertion, or encourage good attendance. The results are, in my judgment, like the early thoughts of the sons of men, evil and only evil continually.

I sometimes wish I had the gift to express, in a way to be fully understood, my utter abhorrence of this practice of keeping after school. Never have I known of a pupil renewed, reformed, reclaimed, or reconciled to his surroundings by being kept after school, by making education a punishment-that first resource of the incompetent teacher.

By some chance, or mischance, he comes in five minutes late-"Fifteen minutes after school." He stumbles in hurrying to his seat-"Remain after school." He makes a mistake in recitation-" Make it up after school." He whispers, winks with one eye-" Stay after school." He asks to leave the room-"Twenty minutes after school." He fails to respond to a querulous or sarcastic question-"I will see you after school." And if he ever succeeds in any business or calling, or has any interest or happiness in life, it will assuredly be after school, school methods, and school ma'ams have gone by.

If the room can not be controlled, why prolong the agony after teacher and pupil should have been relieved of the unwholesome air and vicious influences of weary hours and unrestrained disorder? If the lessons are unprepared, quicken the ambition and revive the spirit of improvement and useful acquisition by some curious inquiry, some ingenious device, and by prompt and pleasant dismissal, with an inspiring "good-night,” but do not look for a renewed love of learning and a higher respect for authority from this ruinous resort of the incompetent, keeping after school.

To secure this close, untiring attention-the first essential of a successful recitation-there must be in the mind of the teacher a clear and well-defined conception of what is to be done, the points to be gained, and the conclusions to be reached, so that ambition may not be dulled and curiosity extinguished by misdirected effort and fruitless endeavor. The truth, as yet ungrasped, should be placed so temptingly near that indifference to its possession shall become an impossibility, and earnest exertion a delight.

We do not expect the blindfolded child to develop