more among females, who are less in the open air, than among males; in the proportion, it is said, of five to three. As I have said, children should be much of the time in the open air, when the weather is not severely cold. Instead of shutting them up in a small school-room, five or six hours every day, during the first years of life, and keeping them most of the time in one position, they should be permitted to spend most of their time out of doors; and parents should be more anxious to enlarge the muscles of their children, and expand their chests by exercise, than their minds by study. This is the proper course to adopt with all children, and absolutely essential to strengthen and invigorate those that are delicate, and predisposed to disease.

Let it not be objected to this course, that those with whom it is adopted will forever remain mentally inferior. This is not in fact true. A child that has not learned a letter, or been within a school-house, until after the age of six years, but has passed much of his time in healthful exercises out of doors, and thereby gained a healthy, vigorous body, will, when he has opportunity for learning, outstrip the pale, puny things that have been confined from infancy in schools, and become renowned for their proficiency in many sciences. And the former will continue to exhibit through life more mental as well as bodily energy and ability. Innumerable facts might be adduced to prove this state

ment.

In regard to the early education of children, I am surprised that more inquiry has not been made respecting the early lives of those whom the world deservedly calls great, and the course adopted with them pursued with others. But in general, immediate results are alone regarded, and no inquiry is made respecting the ultimate effects upon the mind and body of the course adopted, but sufficient evidence of its utility is thought to be furnished, if thereby a child can be made to learn rapidly.

I apprehend if we inquire respecting the early education of most of those who have exhibited remarkable abilities, we shall find no sanction for confining young children closely to school: on the contrary, we probably should be induced to ask, if the exercise they enjoyed out of doors the idleness, as it is called by giving them good health, and developing their physical powers, had not in fact contributed to the ability afterward manifested, and enabled them to toil, and study, and perform great mental labor, without injury. Look at the great men of this and other countries. Can their greatness be attributed to early school education? Did they enjoy the advantages, as the phrase is, of infant-schools? Were they benefitted by the labors of the illustrious Peter Parley and Co.? No! Ninety-nine in a hundred had no carly school education, or none derived from the study of books, though they had the very best education in their early days; they were permitted to study men and things in the open air in the fields, and gardens, and woods, at play or labor; and thus the brain, instead of being prematurely tasked, and rendered like over-cultivated fields, incurably barren, was only equally exercised with the other parts of the system, and all were fully developed.

One of the most distinguished men of this country-distinguished alike for great and varied attainments, and for moral worth - favored me a few years since with the following interesting particulars of his early education:

I was brought up among the highlands, and hilly parts of Connecticut, and was never kept on the high pressure plan of instruction. It was not then the fashion. I went to school, and studied in the easy, careless way, until I went to college. I was daily and sometimes for a month or more engaged in juvenile play, and occasional efforts on the farm. I was roaming over the fields, and fishing, and sailing, and swimming, and riding, and playing ball, so as not to be but very superficially learned, when I entered college. I was not in college half the time. I was at home at leisure, or at gentle work, and much on horseback, but never in the least dissipated. I easily kept pace with my class, for it was in the midst of the American war, and there were no scholars, or much stimulus to learn. Silent leges inter arma. When I went to study law, I had my own leisure, and great exercise and relaxation in enchanting rides, and home visits, until I got to the bar. I lived plain-drank nothing but water-eat heartily of all plain, wholesome food that came in my way-was delighted with rural scenery, and active and healthy as I could be. Here I laid the basis of a sound constitution, in which my brain had not been unduly pressed or excited, and only kept its symmetry with the rest of the animal system. It was not until I was twenty-four, that I found I was very superficially taught, and then voluntarily betook myself to books, and to learn the classics, and every thing else I could read. The ardor and rapidity with which I pursued my law and literary course, was great and delightful, and my health and spirits were sound and uniform, and neither has faltered, down to this day.'*

Let not these valuable facts excuse or encourage idleness in literary pursuits. They but serve to show, that intense and constant application of mind in early life is not necessary to the highest intellectual attainments in after years; but that much exercise of the body is required in childhood, in order to develope and invigorate the system, and enable it subsequently to endure severe and long-continued mental application. And these are truths so much disregarded at the present time, and yet of such vast importance to the welfare of the rising generation, that reference to the early lives of distinguished men is not only excusable, but necessary.

The truths which such facts serve to establish, are also supported by physiology; and it is pleasing to see that they are beginning to be regarded in the education of young children. A few years since, there was scarcely a more alarming evil than the rage for making learned prodigies of infants and young children. But farther reform is necessary, especially as regards the education of females. While in no other country do females so generally receive good intellectual education, or spend as much time at school, as in this, their physical education is almost entirely disregarded. Hence the fact, noticed by all foreigners, that the females of this country, especially in our cities, appear more delicate and less healthy than in England. Hence the innumerable instances of narrow chests and curved spines, that a careful observer witnesses among the females of the large towns in this country.

CHANCELLOR KENT. This was written after reading a small volume presented to him in 1833, by the writer of this article, on the Influence of Mental Cultivation upon Health; and was not intended for publication.

Crowded boarding schools for young girls are quite numerous, but to many of them I fear they prove the portals of the grave. At these schools, with few exceptions, but little pains are taken to develope the physical powers of the scholars, and the chief attention is given to rapidly improving the intellect. Often an amount of mental labor is required of young and delicate girls, sufficient to impair a strong constitution. All the rewards and praise, all the hopes and wishes of parents and teachers, are for intellectual progress. True, they exercise a little; but the kind allowed them is often a task, and is nearly useless. They occasionally walk abroad with their teachers, with a regulated, stereotyped pace, that does them little or no good. Plays and exercises that they naturally enjoy, and which call into action and benefit the whole system that enlarge the chest, and strengthen the muscles of the back, and enable them to support the spine- are considered rude and improper. Hence we see young ladies return from such schools, with minds much improved, perhaps, but with chests no larger than when they left home, and not unfrequently one shoulder more elevated than the other, and with some curvature of the spine. Let it not be said, in refutation of this statement, that girls in boarding schools look animated and healthy. This is not generally true, and if it were, it would not prove that the course pursued at such schools was proper. The evil effects which result from want of exercise are not witnessed immediately in youth.

In a few years, a delicate girl thus educated, from a little more exposure or fatigue than she has been accustomed to, or even from the mental anxiety and conflict of feelings not unusual to young ladies who mix in society, she grows feeble, a slight cough ensues, scarcely noticed for a while, shortness of breath is experienced on a little exercise, and though the countenance appears brilliant and animated,

"Tis the hectic spot that flushes there,'

and the work of death has already commenced. In a few months, she sinks into the grave, and the newspapers announce, that an interesting young lady the pride of her parents and friends whose mind had been improved by the most careful education, has been cut off by consumption. But such announcements, though frequently seen, make but little impression upon the community, and convey no warning to those who have the guardianship of young ladies.

I have dwelt longer on this subject than I should, did I not believe that inattention to the physical education of females, and the rage for improving the intellect to the utmost extent, had become alarming evils; and did I not believe a reform in this respect would diminish the mortality from the disease we are considering, and that the children of feeble or consumptive parents might be rescued from the grave by more attention to the development and improvement of their bodies, by healthful and agreeable exercise, and by less attention to the advancement of the intellect by confinement at school.

The subject is one of vast interest to the patriot and philanthropist. On good bodily organization depend not only individual health but national welfare. The subject, however, seems to be overlooked in this country. While great improvements are making in every thing else, but little thought is given to the improvement of man himself-to

physical man. But this is a neglect which sooner or later will lead to the most disastrous results, even to the ruin of those portions of the population that have from this neglect become effeminate. History assures us of this. When the citizens of Rome changed their habits, neglected those exercises that improved the body, their physical temperament changed. The men became effeminate in body and mind; the women became nervous, and were either barren or gave birth to a feeble race; and then, as was necessary for the good of humanity, 'the fierce giants of the North broke in, and mended the puny breed.'

To avert such a fate from all civilized nations, it will be necessary, while striving for intellectual improvement, to keep constantly in mind that physical improvement is equally necessary, and must not be neglected.

Hartford, June 1, 1836.

A. B.

A SUNDAY NIGHT AT SEA.

BY REV. JOHN PIERPONT, AUTHOR OF AIRS OF PALESTINE,' 'THE PILGRIM FATHERS,' ETC.

How sadly hath this Sabbath day, O God, been spent by me,
Cribbed close beneath a narrow deck, washed by the frequent sea,
An adverse wind careering o'er me from those eastern clouds,

And complaining as its shivering wings sweep through my roaring shrouds!

This humble deck, so near to which my rocking couch is spread,
That I strike it if incautiously I lift my throbbing head,
Hath all day told, and tells me still, of falling sleet and rain,
While I have lain alone beneath, in weariness and pain.

Nay, not alone;' for, though no voice of wife or children dear,
Or friend, or fellow worshipper, hath fallen upon my ear,
Hast thou not, even here, O God, thy face and favor shown?
Then, how have I been desolate, or how am I alone?

And, while the wind hath roared above, and tossed the raging sea,

Have not my silent orisons, my God, gone up to thee?

To thee who sittest on the flood, and ridest on the storm,

And biddest every wind that blows some work of love perform.

And though the winds have tossed, and though the waves have washed my deck,
It hath not by their weight been sunk, or driven ashore a wreck;
For, though thou hast not hushed the blast, nor bid its fury cease,
Thou 'st brought me up and sheltered me behind the hills of Greece.

It was not, my Preserver, thus the lines were made to fall,

In this same season, these same seas, unto thy servant Paul,
Who, by this same Euroclydon, was driven till he, at last,

On Malta's rock, from which I've come, a shivering wreck, was cast.

Then let me murmur not that I this live-long day have lain
In weakness, and in weariness, in loneliness and pain;
But rather, when I think of Paul, thy mercy let me bless,
That, though I've served thee less than he, I've also suffered less.

Yet, will thou not forgive me, Lord, if on this holy day,
I think of those I love, and think how far they are away;
And if that house of thine, where I have served thee many a year,
That pleasant house, should claim from me the tribute of a tear?

*St. Paul's day, i. e. the day of his shipwreck, is fixed; and I witnessed the celebration of it in Malta, on the 10th inst.

Within its walls, even now, though Night o'er me hath spread her wing,
I see my friends, my family, my flock, all worshipping;

For, between the pastor and his flock, the foamy crests are curled
That whiten o'er the waters of a quarter of the world.*

And if he lifts to thee his eyes, with tears and darkness dim,
And asks if, in their prayers, his friends, his flock remember him,
Let not the thought of self, that thus intrudes upon their prayers,
Be set down as a sin, O God, in thy sight or in theirs!

That holy house, where I have stood, and where these hands of mine,
So many years, the bread have broken, and poured out the wine
That speak of the Redeemer's love, and bring to mind the debt

Of those he hath redeemed from sin

can I that house forget?

Forget those little children too, whose angels do behold

Their Father's face,' whose names, on earth, are with thy church enrolled,
And on whose brows, unfurrowed yet by time, or care, or sin,

The water I have thrown that speaks of purity within?

Forget the dead!-forget the dead! What witness do they bear
Of my influence on their spirits that are now beyond my care?
That I have spoken faithfully? or that I, through fear, was dumb
'Of righteousness, and temperance, and of the world to come?'

The dead! Shrink not, my soul! What witness, in their bowers of bliss,
Or from their seats of wo, must they have borne of me, in this?
And they who 're yet alive, what will, what ought to be, the amount
Of their report, when, in their turn, they go to give account?

Can I forget the mourning ones, who 've brought their load of grief,
And, at thine altar laid it down, and found in prayer relief?
Forget the needy, who their wants have there before thee spread?
Or the liberal hand that there hath given the poor their daily bread?

Forget the young, who, having laid their parents in the dust,
Came up, in One who cannot die, to learn to place their trust?
Forget the hoary headed ones, who've bent their feeble knees,
With me so long in prayer? O God, can I forget all these?

And, when I do remember those whose worship I have led,
How can I but indulge the hope, when taken from their head,
That they whose kindness in my heart will ever be enshrined,
When they've come to bow before the Lord, have borne me in their mind?

And how am I remembered then? - as a watchman loving sleep?

As a shepherd who hath sought his ease, and cared not for the sheep?

Or as one who, aware that his time was short, that his day would soon be o'er,
With more of zeal than of wisdom wrought till he could work no more?

Shall I, then, work no more?'-or wilt thou bring me back at length,
To serve thee in thy courts again, with renovated strength?
And, when the people of my care within those courts I meet,
Will the same faces welcome me- - the same kind voices greet?

No: there are eyes that rolled in light, when I launched upon the wave,

And that, when I return - should I e'er return - will have closed in the sleep of
the grave:

And are there not those which fell on me then with a warm and a friendly ray,
And which, when they see me again, will turn with an icy glare away?

*The 93 degrees of longitude that lie between Cape Matapan and Boston, make a difference, in time, of about 6 1-4 hours; so that while these thoughts are passing through my mind in my meditations upon my bed,' between 9 and 10 o'clock at night, my people are in the midst of their after

noon service.