the School of the Palace. Here his pupils were Charles, Pepin, and Louis, the three sons of Charlemagne, with other young noblemen; and the interest which was thrown into his instructions by the skill of the teacher, attracted several of the older persons of the court, princes, councillors, and bishops, and sometimes the ladies also, to listen to his lectures. He encour aged the pupils to ask questions, and made it a part of his plan to give such striking, short answers, as would impress the memory. As a specimen of these performances we give a short dialogue between Pepin and Alcuin; some of the answers will be found to suggest beautiful thoughts. Pepin. What is speech? -- Alcuin. The interpreter of the soul. Pepin. What gives birth to the speech? Pepin. - How does the tongue give birth to the speech? Pepin. What is life? Alcuin. An enjoyment for the happy, a grief for the wretched, a waiting time for death. Pepin. What is death? Alcuin. An inevitable event, an uncertain voyage, a subject of tears for the living, the time that confirms wills, the thief that makes its prey of man. Pepin. What is sleep? Alcuin. The image of death? Alcuin.- Innocence. Pepin. What is the waking sleep of which I have heard you speak? Alcuin.-Hope, a waking dream, cheering our toil, though it lead to nothing. Pepin. What is friendship? Alcuin. The likeness of souls. -- What is faith? Alcuin. The certainty of marvellous things and things unknown. Sometimes Alcuin would try the wits of his young pupil with riddles or puzzling questions in turn. Here is a specimen. Alcuin.I have seen a dead man walking, was alive. It was my own reflection in the water. Pepin. Why could I not guess it, having myself so often seen the like? Alcuin. Well, you have a good wit; I will tell you some more extraordinary things. One whom I never knew, talked with me, without tongue or voice; he had no life before, nor will he live hereafter, and I neither knew him, nor understood what he said. Pepin.-Master, you must have been troubled with a dream. Alcuin. Right, my child; hear another: I have seen the dead beget the living, and the dead have been then consumed, by the breath of the living. Pepin. You speak of a fire kindled by a rubbing dry sticks together, and consuming the sticks afterwards. Such ways of exercising the first efforts of an inquiring mind, are not quite out of date with gentle teachers of our own time; and the kind-hearted ingenuity of Alcuin, more than a thousand years ago, may not be unworthy of the imitation of a more refined age. — Antiquarius, in Watchman & Reflector. THE PUBLIC SCHOOL. AMONG the rugged hills of New England, in its most fertile valleys, there could not be found a place more beautiful than the little village of S. The rapids, a few miles below, prevented larger vessels from ascending the stream which formed its western boundary, and just at the verge of evening, the little steamboat, the invention of one of the citizens of the village, in accomplishing its daily task, might be seen rapidly gliding up the river. The stranger, the pleasure-seeking traveller, and the returning wanderer alike felt the beauty of the scene, as the departing rays of the setting sun gilded the unruffled surface of the stream, and lighted up the lowly cottage, and the elegant mansion of the more wealthy citizen, which the numerous groves of majestic forest trees did not wholly conceal. The tall spires of the different churches, and the lofty elms near the back, were faithfully reflected in the stream, and as its windings brought into view the blue hills in the distance, one could readily believe that his childish dreams of fairyland were partially, if not wholly realized. In the centre of the town stood the public school-house, and at the time of its erection, the site must have been a pleasant one. But as the population increased, a new Town House was needed, and soon a spacious brick building towered above the humble school-room, the large yard in front having been selected as the most suitable location. The narrow space between the two, furnished the only playground for the hundreds of children who gathered there from day to day. The lower rooms of the new building were soon occupied by mechanics, and the incessant din of the tinman's hammer was heard above the voice of the teacher and the busy hum of the school-room. The erection of a building so near, gave to the dingy walls of the school-room, a still more gloomy cast, and as if the light of heaven were a blessing too great to be enjoyed, each window on the side next to the new building was lessened one-third, by a thick, heavy plank nailed across it. The object was attained. No scholar could look out, and the stranger could not look in; but was anything gained by making the school-room less inviting, less cheerful in its aspect than the interior of the county prison ? It was exclusively a school for girls, and in this lay its peculiar excellence it was thought, wise men in power having ascertained that boys are not suitable companions for their sisters, an opinion entertained by many at the present day, and that they should never be associated in school after the age of five or seven. In this arrangement, whether a regard for the welfare of the children, or for the purses of their parents, was the ruling motive, remains a matter of uncertainty. A competent teacher was provided for the boys, and a thorough course in physical science and the classics pursued, while their more docile sisters were left to study arithmetic, grammar and geography, with a teacher but little in advance of themselves. One term was generally sufficient to send such a teacher to seek some other employment, and lead her to renounce forever the occupation of instructor. Occasionally a teacher was found, herself a living model of what she would have her pupils become, who would patiently toil on, endeavoring to inspire them with a love of knowledge and of all that is good and beautiful. The memory of one such still lingers in the hearts of many who are at this moment acting out in distant lands, in homes remote from New England's favored soil, the principles they received from a teacher whom they still love. Parents seldom visited the school, and the announcement that it was "examination day" generally failed to rouse more than one or two to the performance of their duty in this matter. A young physician or lawyer, desirous of obtaining an introduction to the public, would consent to act as school committee for one year. With no sympathy for children, and their improvement being a matter of no very great anxiety to him, he considered his duty discharged if, at the end of each term, he spent an hour in the school-room, and at the close of the exercises pointed out, with all the sternness he could command, whatever he had noticed that was wrong. The faults were many. The teacher was disheartened, the scholars discouraged. They did not expect to learn much in such a school, and as soon as an opportunity presented itself, both teacher and scholar left it without regret. Years have passed away. Progress and improvement are manifest on every side, but in nothing are they more apparent than in the village school. The old brick school-house is now quite hid. It has passed into other hands, and is used for other purposes, and it would be difficult to find the original building in the block of which that has been made to form a part. Public opinion is also changed, and the boys and girls are associated in the same school, pursuing a course of study under a discipline that cannot fail, if rightly improved, to prepare them for the active duties of life. The new school building, for pleasantness of situation and beauty of architecture, is not surpassed by any private residence. The good taste of the occupants is visible in the beautiful fountain, the evergreens, and the great variety of flowers that adorn the yard. The whole interior arrangement shows that the wants of the children and youth have been fully understood, and met with a corresponding liberality. Parents enter the school-room as familiarly as they do their own homes, and the crowded audience at the examination indicates with what interest the improvement of the pupils is noticed. The blessings of many a grateful parent, at this moment, rest upon those, who, resolutely executing the plan of our forefathers, provide for the education of all; those who are struggling with poverty, as well as those who, basking in the sunshine of prosperity, have never known want. Take one example. Suddenly deprived of the companion of her youth, and left to struggle alone for the maintenance and education of her children, Mrs. Mansfield returned to her native village. With a solicitude which none but a parent can feel, she watched the development of their opening faculties. The fearless, joyous spirit of Harry found ready sympathy, and merry-hearted associates gathered around him wherever he went. Whatever he would obtain, he pursued with ardor and unconquerable energy. Day by day did the fond mother endeavor to direct the current of those powers which would not be checked, and place before the mind of her impetuous son, an object worthy of his noblest efforts. But if her judgment led her to decide without hesitation that the public school was just the place for Harry, she had her doubts when the same school was recommended for his more thoughtful sister. For Anna Mansfield possessed a gentle spirit. Reproof she seldom needed, and a harsh word from one she loved was sufficient to unlock the fountain of her tears, and send her away to weep in solitude. And one who watched her varying countenance, now radiant with smiles, the index of a merry heart, and now bathed in tears at the recital of another's wo, could readily imagine that the language of the poet had been addressed to none but her. "Thy cheek too swiftly flushes; o'er thine eye Mrs. Mansfield felt that another ingredient had been added to the bitterness of her cup, when her scanty means compelled her to send her timid, gentle Anna to the public school with boys. But whatever may have been her own anxieties on the subject, they were not communicated to her children, and Harry and Anna mingled with the assembled group the happiest of the happy. Pursuing the same studies under a wise and faithful teacher, they were mutual helpers to each other, and Anna soon acquired that self-control which enabled her to stand before a large school or a crowded audience at an examination, and with calm self-possession, not at all imcompatible with true modesty, distinctly tell what she knew. The sparkling eye, the animated countenance, and the distinct enunciation, plainly declared that she understood her subject, and that she had lost nothing, but gained much by attending the public school. The happiness and improvement of her children convinced Mrs. Mansfield how groundless had been her fears, and now she reckons among the blessings of her condition that they are able to continue their studies in a district school. If the proud millionaire who walks the streets, would condescend to enter the school-room, and learn how many like Harry and Anna are blessed through his instrumentality; how many are saved from ignorance and consequent wretchedness and want, would he not open his purse less reluctantly? If he could stand in the teacher's place, and for one short week, perform the labor, and endure the anxiety, that ever attend a teacher's life, would he allow himself to say that personal aggrandizement alone, prompts the desire to occupy a large and commodious school-room? But there is a class of persons who stand aloof from this whole matter. Having no relative to be benefited by it, the school is never visited, and the demand which the law makes upon them for its support is met with a growl or a groan. Why do men of wealth complain of the system which compels them to aid in the education of those children whose parents are less favored than themselves? Do they not know that New England stands now, the glory of all lands, on this very account? Life is a school. We are all scholars, and, much as we may dislike the employment as such, all are teachers, each responsible for the instruction he imparts. A gentleman who sought no |