those who do not read at all. These do not join in the general exercises, but sit at a side desk, and write, draw, and look at pictures, while he attends to the large class.

It will be granted that the general influence of studying language, consciousness, and the life of Jesus Christ, for the manifestations of Spirit, must be favorable to moral culture, unless there is something very forced about it; and the Record of a School will probably convince any impartial reader, that it can be done very easily and naturally, by such an instructor as Mr. Alcott. Speculating and talking about the moral nature, has, of itself, a tendency to place it uppermost in the mind; since there is an inward feeling, which raises the moral part of our nature above the intellectual and instinctive, whenever they are all brought into comparison. But this is not enough; especially where there is no dogmatic teaching. Thought should ever be accompanied with appropriate action. Mr. Alcott rests his chief dependence for the moral culture of his pupils, upon the moral discipline to which he subjects them. He makes every day's duties, the means of illustrating every day's speculations; and vice versa. will appear in the sequel.

This

But some of his methods of discipline have been questioned. Before I had had an opportunity of observing their operation with my own eyes, I was very much inclined to question some of them myself; and perhaps it will be the best means of doing both him and myself justice, to relate my own views upon this subject, and the modifications they have undergone, since I have been a spectator of his School:

I will begin with saying, that I have no doubt at all, that as far as regards this particular school, the methods have been in every respect salutary, and the best possible for the members of it. General intelligence, order, selfcontrol, and goodwill, have been produced to a degree that is marvellous to see; especially, when we consider that his scholars' ages range from three years to twelve, and none are older, and most of them only eight or nine years old. I can indeed conceive of something quite equal, if not superior, in moral beauty, that may be gained on a different plan, supposing the school is com

posed of older scholars; and the education is a more private one, from the beginning. I do not know, however, but that my differing methods are applicable, more especially and exclusively, to girls.

The point from which I diverge from Mr. Alcott, in theory, is this: I think that a private conscience in the young will naturally be the highest. Mr. Alcott thinks a common conscience is to be cultivated in a school, and that this will be higher in all, than any one conscience would be, if it were private.

Pursuing my own idea in my own school, my method has, in theory, been this. I have begun with every individual, by taking it for granted, in the first place, that there is a predominating sense of duty. This is not artificial on my part; for the germ of the principle of duty, lies in every mind, I know; and generally, it is accompanied by a wish, at least, to follow duty. With this I would sympathise, and let my sympathy be felt, by showing my scholars that I can find the wish out, even when enveloped in many shadows. All derelictions from duty, I would meet with surprise, as accidental mistakes or indisputable misfortunes, according as the fact might be, and offer my advice, endeavoring to win a confidential exposure of the individual's own moral condition, as it appears to themselves, in order that I might wisely and tenderly give suitable advice. Thus would I establish a separate understanding with each particular scholar, and act the part of a religious friend, with each; while in general assembly, no reference should be made to any moral wrongdoing of any one; but it be courteously and charitably taken for granted, that all mean to act conscientiously and religiously.

This plan is of very fine influence, in many respects. Its tendency is to break up that odious combat which seems to go on in many schools, where there is a struggle, as it were, for power;-the children trying how far they can do wrong with impunity, and the teachers constantly. feeling obliged to keep on a watch, in order to preserve their prerogative. Instead of this, it introduces a sentiment of discipleship, in which the contest is, who shall be beforehand, the pupils in yielding a willing obedience;

or the teachers in giving those parental tokens, which ensure this willing obedience.

Another tendency, no less salutary, is, to produce a tender and respectful courtesy, in the pupils, towards each other. Conscious of being engaged in the same moral course, of being assisted and inspired by the mind of the same respected friend, who only brings them to think of each other, on those points of the character of each, where there may be sympathy and understanding, they are not obliged to know any thing of one another, which is not a ground of respect, or at least of moral interest.

This method also tends to preserve all the delicate individualities of character, and to give appropriate and differing atmosphere and scope, to those flowers of delicacy and of sensibility, which, like the violets of the landscape are sunbeams in the shady places of private life. In this connection I would also observe that nothing will so effectually preserve the soul from habits of secresy, and undue reserve, as culture of the individual, as such; for nothing is so favorable to frank, open, unsuspicious, transparency of soul, expressed in look and manner, as never to have been wounded, or ridiculed, or unjustly regarded, during that impressible season of life, when self-estimation is first forming. The human being was made, like every thing in the creation of God, for Expression. To be cherished, and helped forward, by the respectful tenderness, and generous liberality of mind, of the guardians and companions of its infancy, involves no danger of producing that folding up of the soul within itself, which is too often the disease of those, who have within them, what it would be a delight and a benefit for all their race to know. This disease, we shall find, is most frequent in those who have been put for education into some common mill, whence nothing can come out without bearing some particular stamp and superscription, and where of course all individualities, all that springs from the wonderful depths of personality, is rigorously worn off, or driven in. A delicate nature, in such a situation, is another form of a fact, I have seen in some work on natural history; where it is said, that the plants, which grow so large and beautiful in the tropical regions, and come out from the beginning in a

bud consisting merely of a naked fold, do, when transplanted to a cold climate, become dwarfed, many leaflets being arrested in their growth, and forced to degenerate into scales, in order to protect from the atmosphere, the growth of the interior leaves, that the whole may not perish. So, in the ungenial atmosphere of unsympathising guardianship or companionship, a part of the mental powers, intended to spread forth in beauty and fragrance, are forced to degenerate into mere self-defences, that all may not be lost. A fastidious reserve, where it is not affectation, is always the effect of want of sympathy and intelligent appreciation or of a forced intercourse with the rude; and it never comes from the respectfulness of the method of education, which I am defending, but is prevented by it; provided this method is pursued with good sense on the part of the instructor..

The last good influence which I shall mention, of my favorite mode of procedure, is its tendency to break up that constant reference to general opinion, which is so apt to degenerate into subserviency to it. The mind that is accustomed to commune in silence with its own ideal, and with God, is apt to forget the low views which govern the world; and by this forgetfulnes to be withdrawn from the world's dethroning influences. The soul, also, feeling how far off it is from its own standard, even in its best estate, may be entirely unconscious of how beautiful and how elevated it appears to those around it, and thus become more and more humble, have more and more of the "beauty of contrition" about it, as it advances. And what expression is there on earth, of the unseen and unknown heaven of character, to which we all aspire, that is so powerful, as the unconsciousness and humility of the holiest virtue ?

But while I bear testimony to having found that the method of individual culture, can be pursued in a school, and with all the above fine influences, I must be ingenuous, and also state its peculiar difficulties.

It requires, in the first place, that the school be small in numbers; for no instructor can take time to study out the individualities of every pupil, and feed each with appropriate food, without a greater tax upon thought and feeling,

than any individual can bear, for many successive years. It requires, also, that the instructor should be free for the school, so as to make it the first object; and free also for general culture, and for such degree of general intercourse as there is felt a need for. It is not every well disposed, or well taught person, that is capable of the attitude of friend and guardian to a company of young minds. It requires, even more than much learning, a spirit of philosophic liberality, a mind of ready and various resource, and a heart of all-comprehending sympathies.

But supposing the instructor is found, and the school is numerically within compass, it will often take years to get entire possession of some individuals, who may come into. it; the general influences of whose life and companionship, out of school, may not be in harmony with the influence exerted by the instructor. Where so much is aimed at, relative success alone must be expected; and an instructor must not be surprised if every degree of want of success makes a great noise in the world, and there be little appreciation of the success actually obtained, except by the pupils themselves, who will inevitably feel and acknowledge it, as they grow older.

When I went into Mr. Alcott's school, full of the above views, and rather inclined to believe that the method I had endeavoured to pursue, was the only one that was not absolutely wrong, my mind was forcibly turned to consider other modes.

Here was a school of thirty children, mostly boys under ten years of age, who were creatures of instinct more than any thing else, with undeveloped consciences and minds, but well-disposed, good-natured, overflowing with animal spirits, and all but intoxicated with play. It was plain enough, that my plan could get no foothold in a school of such materials; at least until some other one had prepared the way. And I soon found that Mr. Alcott had quite a different way. A common conscience was the first object towards which he aimed. And this he defended on the ground that the general conscience of a school would be the highest; for which also, he had some very excellent arguments. He said that the soul, when nearest infancy, was the purest and most moral; that the artlessness of children made them