ter? If he had common sense, there is no doubt which he would do.

The advocates of the perfectibility of man and of education, are, we conceive, chiefly of two classes-either persons who are hostile to christianity, and look to education as the almighty instrument of the renovation of the world; or persons who are religiously disposed, possibly deeply imbued with the religious spirit, of benevolent feelings and somewhat enthusiastic temperament, who from ignorance of what has been, what is, and what in the nature of things must be, are led to entertain fancies which never can be facts, and hopes that never can be realized. It is a very curious fact, and it shows how extremes sometimes meet, that these two parties, though opposed in religious views, yet agree in their educational principles, admire one another's writings, and look upon one another as cooperating in the same work.*

But wherein does the fallacy which we have mentioned above mainly lie?

It lies, we conceive, in this; in confounding education with mere instruction; in applying to morals, principles which are applicable only to intellectuals, and in imagining that the march of intellect is the march of education. Now, education, after all, has more to do with mores, morals, habits, with the habits of thought and action, than with mental acquirements. And unless we look at education from this point of view, we shall constantly err. It follows of course that in teachers also, or educators, to keep the cognate term, the moral qualities are above the intellectual attainments, the habits above the knowledge. A persevering teacher will make a persevering pupil, a slovenly teacher will make a slovenly pupil; and we may say in most cases, in the words of the old proverb, slightly altered like master, like boy.'

Well, in morals, in habits, it is not in the power of one generation to start where the preceding left off. If it were, the arguments of the perfectionists would hold. But every man, and, therefore, to a certain extent every generation, has to go through the same course. All are projected from the same level, and must still run the same career with about the same power, the same weakness, the same temptations, and the same difficulties. Each individual has to begin again for himself, and although he has the advantage of the transmitted experience of his predecessors, he still has to go over the very same moral ground as they did, and to re-acquire the very same experience as they. Thus, for example, when we have been describing on any occasion what

What is to be thought of a work on the Education of the Feelings,' from one who discards all religious belief?

we ourselves have felt under particular circumstances, we find at length that we have only been amplifying and commenting on some old proverb, in which the very same results were condensed. But for all that, the next generation will go through the same course, and will re-discover for themselves the same truths and findings as the present and the past. In intellectuals advances may be made: one man may stand on the shoulders of another, and see farther and know more. But in morals, and it is chiefly with morals (i. e., habits, character), as before stated, that education is concerned, it is not knowledge or sight that is wanted, but practice of what is known and seen. The same nature will ever reproduce the same feelings; and, as far as education is concerned, the same feelings will develop themselves in the same sequences of events, hope and fear, joy and sorrow, success and failure, virtue and vice, tyranny and rebellion, justice and wrong, all forms of hatred, and all forms of love. No training ever made a dove an eagle.

Now it is obvious that a schoolmaster two hundred years ago might have, and it is a fact, that many had, as high and competent qualifications for their profession, as any of the present day, or whom there is any reason to expect at any future day. It is true that they were ignorant of many facts in science and language, which later research has discovered, but what then? Did this diminish their power of making their pupils, like themselves, high-principled, punctual, persevering, resolute, firm? Did this, in fact, diminish their capability of forming a thoroughly great and good character? It is true their pupils were wholly unacquainted with discoveries which may now be put forth in an evening lecture to the lads of a common day-school. But were they less able to acquire any thing they wished to acquire? Had they less of that persevering fag without which there will never be any sound, accurate, or effective scholarship? Were they less acute, of less retentive memory, of inferior imagination, worse principled, less subordinate, less respectful? Let us not be misunderstood: we are not saying that these fresh discoveries in science ought not to be known (which would be absurd), or that they diminish the power of those who know them (which would also be absurd): what we say is this, that seeing that masters formerly produced as great characters, as great scholars, as great poets, as great divines, as great statesmen, as honorable merchants, as beneficent and benevolent noblemen as any do now, it may be concluded that the advances of science have less to do with the real and paramount objects of education than the system of discipline, the course of training, what we may call, the gymnastik of schools, which, not being dependent on any new discoveries of science or inventions of art, were as well understood by some of our forefathers as they can be by ourselves. And it may be concluded also, that no great

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improvement in the grand results of education is to be looked for from the mere march of intellect or the mere advances of science. SECOND FALLACY. It is considered to be a great waste of time for boys to spend several years in learning Latin and Greek, reading authors, writing exercises, and committing to memory, &c., when they will have no call for such knowledge in their future life, in business.

In reply to this there are several things which might be urged: such as, that boys will have calls for the knowledge they have acquired in learning Latin and Greek: or that there is no knowing how their tastes or circumstances may change, and that, therefore, it is presumptuous for us to say that they will not have any need for such knowledge, even though we now see no prospect of it. There is justice in both remarks, and they might satisfy some, especially those who were prepared for them, and antecedently well disposed to receive them. But on others they would produce no effect whatever; first, because you could not convince them that there would be any call for the knowledge in question: and if there was no call in actual shop or exchange business, it would be in vain that you would urge any other call, such as the constant demand in polite conversation for the treasures of literature, old and new; it would be in vain that you would state the marked and painful inferiority felt by what may be called non-Latin men in company with men of refined and cultivated minds, unless perchance a low and balatronic comicality shall have eaten out all higher tastes; we say, it would be in vain to urge any incidental or collateral, social or civil, benefits resulting from the knowledge under remark, because the pounds-shillings-and-pence man, the mere counter-and-till, or the mere counting-house-and-market man, has no sympathy with any thing of the kind, and you might as well argue to a stone wall. Secondly, you could not convince the objector that the boy's circumstances were likely to change, so as to give him any occasion for knowledge of such a kind. Indeed, he would consider it rather a drawback to him than otherwise. Such being the case, we conceive there is only one way of meeting the fallacy we are noticing, namely, by allowing that the knowledge acquired by a study of Latin and Greek may never be of any actual service or use in after life to the pupil, and yet maintaining, in spite of this, that the same course should be pursued, that boys ought still to be disciplined by the study of the classical languages, though they never should touch or look into a classical book after leaving school, though, when they have done with their Greek and Latin books (as boys talk), they may sell them for a song to the first second-hand bookseller they come to. This we maintain in its broadest form; and until people see this, they will have no clear

idea of what they are about in having their sons taught Latin and Greek. We are advancing no novelty: the best writers on education have maintained the same. Education is not, or ought not to be, the preparation for this or that business, but the training of the mind and the forming of sound habits of thinking and acting; which cannot be done by teaching first the thing to which all is to be ultimately applied, so well as by teaching something external and remote first, and then coming to the subject which more nearly concerns us. An example will illustrate our meaning. An experienced schoolmaster once, on receiving a new pupil, asked the father of the boy whether he wished him to be taught book-keeping (having heard that foolish wish expressed by many persons). No;' replied the parent. 'I don't care about that. He'll learn more of book-keeping in my counting'house in a week than he could learn in a school-room in three 'months.' 'That is the opinion I have always expressed,' rejoined the master. And all schoolmasters who are worthy of the name would probably feel the same, if they were not sometimes swayed by the dwaldrums and conundrums of ill-informed clients.

Latin and Greek are taught to boys at school not because they are to talk Latin or to write Greek letters to their friends, nor yet because (though it may be the case that) they are intended for one of the learned professions; but to discipline their minds, to gymnaze their intellects in hardy and robust exercises, to give them retentiveness of memory and promptness of recollection, accuracy of thought, diligence, perseverance, the love of work, or at any rate the habit of work, for the sake of conquering the difficulties of the work: for without this there can be no success. A system which presents no difficulties, is not a training system; it is a system of humoring, not of counteracting, lazy and ungenerous propensities; it is a system which, carried out to its legitimate extent, would destroy the root of all that is yet noble in our nature and still nobler in the aspirations to better it; it is a system which, till of late, it was never attempted gravely to defend; still less to urge as exclusively rational. A system of teaching which professes to rid learning of all difficulties, does rid it of half its charms: labor ipse voluptas. Is life all play? all game? Then why should education be? If we would have hard-working men, we must have hard-working boys. The child is father of 'the man.' We contend, then, that the labor of learning Latin and Greek, so far from being an objection to it, is one of its main recommendations. The classical languages are to be studied, not because they are entertaining merely, or amusing merely, but because they present difficulties, which must be overcome, and which there is a way of overcoming. The Latin grammar is to be learnt by heart, not because it is as amusing as the Arabian

Nights, but because in learning it the boy is compelled to work at something which he would not work at for mere pleasure, or mere entertainment; in fact, because it is laborious, and because, by exercising, it strengthens the powers of the mind.

This part of the subject has been so ably illustrated by Professor Malden in his Lecture, the title of which stands at the head of this article, that we cannot forbear giving his remarks in his own words.

Nothing is more common than to find parents regardless and insensible of the growing intelligence of their children, and complaining that they do not learn at school those practical processes which are to subserve the routine of their future profession. If the education of the body were the matter in question instead of the education of the mind, the absurdity of this conduct would be abundantly manifest. Put the case of a boy of a weakly constitution and effeminate habits; and suppose that family connexions and interest make it seem desirable that he should enter the army, and that he is committed to the care of some one,—an old soldier, if you like-who professes to prepare him for his military career. At the end of four or five years, when he ought to obtain his commission, his father may think it right to inquire into his fitness for his profession. Have you studied tactics?

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No, Sir. Have you studied gunnery?' No, Sir.' 'Are you perfect in the last instructions issued from the Horse Guards for the manœuvres of cavalry?' 'I have never seen them, Sir.' 'Have you learnt the broadsword exercise?' 'No.' Can you put a company of infantry through their drill?' 'No.' 'Have you practised platoon firing?' 'No.' Can you even fix a bayonet in a musket?' 'I have never tried, Sir.' After such an examination, we may suppose the father expostulating indignantly with the veteran under whose care his son had been placed. The latter might reply: Sir, when you entrusted your son to my training, he was weak and sickly: he had little appetite, and was fastidious in his eating; he could bear no exposure to the weather he could not walk two miles without fatigue: he was incapable of any severer exercise: he was unwilling, and, indeed, unable, to join in the athletic sports of boys of his age. Now, he is in perfect health, and wants and wishes for no indulgence: he can make a hearty dinner on any wholesome food, or go without it, if need be: he will get wet through, and care nothing about it: he can walk twelve or fifteen miles a-day he can ride: he can swim: he can skate: he can play a game of cricket, and enjoy it though he has not learnt the broadsword exercise, he fences well: though he has never handled a soldier's musket, he is an excellent shot with a fowling-piece: he has a firm foot, a quick eye, and a steady hand he is a very pretty draughtsman; he is eager to enter his profession, and you may take my word for it, Sir, he will make a brave and active officer.'

'Such a defence, I think, would be conclusive. So it is with mental training. Mental health, and vigor, and activity, are a sufficient vindication of the discipline by which they are produced, although the