action, and these taken together constitute the SEVEN LAWS OF TEACHING.

These laws are not obscure and hard to reach. They are so simple and natural that they suggest themselves almost spontaneously to any who carefully notes the facts. They lie imbedded in the simplest description that can be given of the seven elements named, as in the following:

I. A teacher must be one who KNOWS the lesson or truth to be taught.

2. A learner is one who ATTENDS with interest to the lesson given. 3. The language used as a MEDIUM between teacher and learner must be COMMON to both.

4.

The lesson to be learned must be explicable in the terms of truth already known by the learner, the UNKNOWN must be explained by the KNOWN.

5. Teaching is AROUSING and USING the pupil's mind to form in it a desired conception or thought.

6. Learning is THINKING into one's own UNDERSTANDING a new idea or truth.

7. The test and proof of teaching done-the finishing and fastening process-must be a RE-VIEWING, RE THINKING, RE-KNOWING, and RE-PRODUCING of the knowledge taught.

These definitions and statements are so simple and obvious as to need no argument or proof; but their force as fundamental laws may be more clearly seen if stated as rules for teaching. Addressed to the teacher, they may read as follows:

Know thoroughly and familiarly the lesson you wish to teach; or, in other words, teach from a full mind and a clear understanding. II. Gain and keep the attention and interest of the pupils upon the lesson. Refuse to teach without attention.

III. Use words understood by both teacher and pupil in the same sense-language clear and vivid alike to both.

IV. Begin with what is already well known to the pupil in the lesson or upon the subject, and proceed to the unknown by single, easy, and natural steps, letting the known explain the unknown.

V. Use the pupil's own mind, exciting his self-activities, and leading him to think out the truth for himself. Keep his thoughts as much as possible ahead of your expression, making him a discoverer of truth.

VI. Require the pupil to reproduce in thought the lesson he is learning-thinking it out in its parts, proofs, connections, and applications till he can express it in his own language.

VII. Review, review, REVIEW, reproducing correctly the old, deepening its impression with new thought, correcting false views, and completing the true.

These rules and the laws which they outline, underlie and govern all successful teaching. If taken in their broadest meaning, nothing need be added to them; nothing can be safely taken away. No one who will thoroughly master and use them need fail as a teacher, provided he will also maintain the good order which is necessary to give them free and undisturbed action.

Like all the great laws of nature, these laws of teaching will seem at first simple facts, so obvious as scarcely to require such formal statement, and so plain that no explanation can make clearer their meaning. But, like all fundamental truths, their simplicity is more apparent than real. Each one varies in applications and effects with varying minds and persons, though remainining constant in itself; and each stands related to other laws and facts, till it reaches the outermost limits of the science of teaching. Indeed, in a careful study of these seven laws, to which we shall proceed in coming articles, the discussion will reach every valuable principle in education, and every practical rule which can be of use in the teacher's work.

They cover all teaching of all subjects and in all grades, since they are the fundamental conditions on which ideas may be made to pass from one mind to another. They are as valid and useful for the college professor as for the master of a common school; for the teaching of a Bible truth as for instruction in arithmetic. In proportion as the truth to be communicated is high and difficult to be understood, or as the pupils to be instructed are young and ignorant, ought these rules to be carefully followed.

Doubtless there are many successful teachers who never heard of these laws, and who do not consciously follow them; just as there are people who walk safely without any knowledge of gravitation, and talk intelligibly without studying grammar. Like the musician who plays by ear, and without knowledge of notes, these natural teachers, as they are called, have learned the laws of teaching from practice, and obey them from habit. It is none the less true that their success comes from obeying law, and not in spite of laws. They catch by intuition the secret of success, and do by a sort of instinct what others do by rule and reflection. A careful study of their methods would show how closely they follow these principles; and if there is any exception it is in the cases in which their wonderful practical mastery of some of these rules-usually the first three-allows them to give slighter heed to the others. To those who do not belong to this class

of "natural teachers," the knowledge of these laws is of vital necessity.

Let no one fear that a study of the laws of teaching will tend to substitute a cold, mechanical sort of work for the warm-hearted, enthusiastic teaching so often admired and praised. True skill kindles and keeps alive enthusiasm by giving it success where it would otherwise be discouraged by defeat. The true worker's love for his work grows with his ability to do it well. Even enthusiasm will accomplish more when guided by intelligence and armed with skill, while the many who lack the rare gift of an enthusiastic nature must work by rule and skill or fail altogether.-The Pilgrim Teacher.

A BIT OF EXPERIENCE.

The following bit of interesting experience is given by Supt. R. M. Streeter, of Titusville, Pa., and comes to us through the Canada School Journal. The lesson it contains is worth many times the subscription price of the MONTHLY to every teacher who will learn it well and practice it:

I see John away in one corner, anxious to get his head behind the boy in front of him. That means he is going to whisper. Now, what is the use of waiting for John to do that? I don't wait. I say, "John, do you want anything?" Of course he lies, and says, "No, sir." "Why," I say, "what were you going to whisper about?"

"I was only going to ask him to take his knife."

"Well, do take it; only let me know when you want anything like that, and don't get down behind Tom in that fashion. Tom, will you let John take your knife ?"

Out comes the knife, John takes it, and when he gets through with it, looks at me with lifted eyebrows, and points the knife at Tom. I nod, Tom takes the knife; and that is all there is to it. Another time when John wants anything, he asks for it, man fashion, for two good reasons: he knows he can have what he wants if it is necessary; and he knows he will be caught if he don't. So, then, if pupils do care to whisper, you can stop the whispering by watching them.

I hope I shall not shock any of you teachers when I tell you that I have a great deal of sympathy for a boy, big or little, who has smuggled an apple into the school-room. He has brought it with him with the best intentions in the world. He doesn't expect to be mean about it. He hasn't the slightest idea of eating it. He does take it from his pocket, but that is because the apple is so large that it is painful

there, and he puts it into his desk for safe-keeping. For the first half hour he forgets all about it; but when he stops a moment, tired with his work, with his elbow on the desk and his head upon the palm of his left hand, there comes floating up from that desk to the nostrils of that school-boy an aroma that the perfumes of Arabia cannot equal. Even then, no thought of guile drifts like a fancy across his mind. It smells so good that he puts his hand under to rub the luscious fruit, and carries to his eager nose the perfumed hand. Then the temptation comes; then, the head goes down; then, quicker than light, the sharp teeth cut the red skin; and for the next five minutes that is the most studious boy in the room.

Now, I like apples; and I suppose I have done what that boy has just been doing a good many times in my life. I saw him when his head went into the desk; when that big bite left the apple I heard it, and I saw every eye in that neighborhood turn to me to see if I knew what was going on. From that day to this the rest of those schoolboys believe that I never knew about that apple being eaten. A day or two afterward, when they had forgotten it, and the apple-eater happened to be at my desk, I said to him quietly: "I didn't blame you much the other day when you ate that apple. It was a good one; and if it hadn't been in school I'd have asked you for a bite. You'd better not bring any more-do you think you had?" It was worth half-a-dollar to see that boy open his eyes and to hear the wonder-tone in his voice, as he exclaimed, "Did you see me?" "See you," said I, "of course I did; but I thought you wouldn't do it again, if I asked you not to; and you won't, will you ?"

"No, sir ;" and it came out in that honest hearty voice which a teacher likes to hear. I don't think he ever did, for two good reasons. I had used him as I would like to be used under the same circumstances; and he felt sure that he would be caught again if he did. So I say that boys can be kept from eating apples by watching them, and treating them with a dose of the Golden Rule, if you get a chance.

SCHOOL EXAMINATIONS.

The following is clipped from the Dayton Journal. Its very sensible and seasonable hints betray its pedagogical origin:

Examinations in our public schools begin to-day, and as a matter of course, a fair-sized army of children are on the alert, waiting for the distribution of the questions which are to take their mental meas

ure.

Another allied army consists of their sympathizing parents who fight their school battles over again in the persons of their children.

The Dayton school authorities have wisely, perhaps, lessened the number of written examinations, so that now there are but three a year. We say "perhaps," for as the number decreases the excitement in

creases.

As promotion depends upon the result of the final examination, there is no cause for the undue stress of the previous two unless they are taken as what the outside world calls "pointers." A question asked at the superintendent's office as to what the object of these tests is, brought out the reply that it is three-fold: To see what the pupil can do—that is, test his mental powers; to learn how faithfully he has done the term's work, and to find out the character of his teaching.

The demand for too high percents is productive of bad results. It makes it very difficult, if not impossible, for the superintendent to test the first and third of the three things named above. A cry comes up for something to measure memory only and make 100's plenty and cheap.

Simple cram is not teaching, instruction is something more than drill; and examinations that reward cram and drill only are by no means an unmixed good. Contrarily, they do a large amount of unmixed harm. When examinations do their best work in stimulating thought and invention, and directing and elevating instruction, 100's are scarcely a possibility.

Every examination worthy of the name discloses the fact, and confirms what the teacher already believes, that her pupils are not all alike, either in native ability or amount of acquired knowledge. What should be done with those who are behind their class is a serious question. Each case must be considered upon its own merits, and no wholesale mode of dealing seems equitable if we remember that schools are organized for the children, and that children are not born into the world mainly to be fitted into a perfectly graded school. The best thing in most cases is to leave the slow boy where he is, and in two years he will likely do what he seems unable to do in one. This is no penalty, but rather a privilege, when properly viewed.

But just here comes in another consideration. Suppose he remains where all will agree that he can derive the most profit from his year's attendance, and at the end of the year is not promoted. Many of our teachers believe that he is taken by "the powers that be" as a standing proof that his teacher has come short of her duty. She may, but this is not proof of it. And her holding on to the dull pupils, giving them encouragement, of which perhaps they have not had a surplus; and