one month; twelve months, or three hundred M. They are derived from certain Saxon objects of worship, as Sunday from the Sun; Monday from the Moon; Tuisco, the same with the Roman Mars, gave name to Tuesday; Wednesday from Woden, their god of battle; Thursday from Furanes, the same with the Danish Thor, the god of winds and weather; Friday from Friga, otherwise called Venus, who was sometimes worshiped as the goddess of peace and plenty; Saturday, either from Seator, the god of freedom, or from the planet Saturn. D. I will write these names down, that I may not forget them. Will you now be so kind as to tell me from what the months are called? M. Chamisso, a naturalist who accompanied Kotzebue, is of such a height that it remains almost dry at low water, the corals leave off building. A continuous mass of solid stone is seen, composed of the shells of molluscs and echini, with their broken-off prickles and frag. ments of coral, united by a cement of calcareous sand, produced by the pulverization of shells. Fragments of coral limestone are thrown up by the waves, until the ridge becomes so high that it is covered only during some seasons of the year by the high tides. The heat of the sun often penetrates the mass of stone when it is dry, so that it splits in many places. The force of the waves is thereby enabled to sepa. rate and lift blocks of coral, frequently six feet long and three or four in thickness, and throw them upon the reef. "After this the calcareous M. The Romans named nearly all the months sand lies undisturbed, and offers to the seeds of from some of their divinities and emperors, viz: trees and plants cast upon it by the waves, a January from Janus, who was represented with soil, upon which they rapidly grow, to over-two faces, one looking towards the new year, shadow its dazzling white surface. Entire the other towards the old. February named by trunks of trees, which are carried by the ri- Romulus, from Februa, the mother of Mars. vers from other countries and islands, find here, March from Mars, the god of war; April from at length, a resting place after their long wan- the Latin word Aperio, signifying to open the derings; with these come small animals, such year or blossom; May from Maia, the mother as lizards and insects, as the first inhabitants. of Mercury; June from Juno, the wife of JupiEven before the trees form a wood, the sea- ter; July was named by Mark Anthony, in hobirds nestle here; strayed land-birds take re- nor of Julius Cæsar, a celebrated Roman; Aufuge in the bushes; and, at a much later period, gust from Augustus Cæsar, also a Roman Emwhen the work has been long since completed, peror; September from Septem, the seventh man appears, and builds his hat on the fruitful month of the Roman year; October from Octo, soil."[Kotzebue's Voyages, as quoted by Lyell. the eighth month; November from Novem, the ninth month; December from Decem, the tenth month of the Roman year. Youth's Miscellany. DIVISIONS OF TIME. D. I should like to know something of the divisions of time. You know when I was so very sorry that our beautiful flowers were all withered and dead, you told me that in another year, the plants would again put forth leaves and blossoms. I shall be very glad when another year comes, that I may again gather flowers to ornament our parlor; but I wish to know what is a year? M. This morning you rose at six, and it is now six in the evening; tell me how many hours have passed since you rose from bed? D. Twelve. M. Well, twelve hours more must pass before the sun will again rouse you from your slumbers; add, then, these twelve to the twelve of to-day, and what will be the number? D. Twenty-four. D. I always thought till now, that December was the twelfth month of the year. M. It is, according to our reckoning; but the Romans began to count their year from March, as also did many other ancient nations; and this seems to be the most natural arrangement, as it is in Spring vegetation commences. D. Did the Romans call the days of the week by the same names as those by which we distinguish ours? M. No. They were called from the planets: as Dies Solis, of the Sun; Luna, Moon; Martis, Mars; Mercurii, Mercury; Jovis, Jupiter; Veneris, Venus; and Saturni, Saturn. D. I very well know there are in the year, or in twelve months, four seasons, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter; but why was the year so divided? M. For convenience in reckoning; it is likely the ancients, observing that the days were not all of a length, together with all the variations from heat to cold, were led to divide the year thus into four seasons. The changes of the moon were regular, and obvious to every eye, and consequently formed another division of the year into mocns or months. D. How did they find out the hours? M. It is likely various devices were adopted; but at first it was found necessary to divide the days from one sun-rising to the next. D. And how did they measure time? M. Day and night, taken together, make a solar day, or the space from one sun-rising to another; or it is that portion of time during which the earth makes one revolution round its axis. Most Europeans begin their day and hours at midnight. The Italians, however, begin their day at sunset, from which to the following evening they reckon twenty-four hours. The Turks begin their day at a quarter of an M. The Romans, one hundred and fifty years hour after sun-set. Most of the Italian clocks before Christ was born, measured time by means strike twenty-four hours; for instance, an hour of water; the same quantity pouring from one past twelve they strike thirteen, instead of one, vessel to another, as sand runs through an hour as do our clocks, and so on to twenty-four. In glass, which was a later invention. They also numbering time, we say, twenty-four hours filled tall narrow-necked vials with water, on make one day; seven days one week; four weeks' the top of which floated a cork; the water ran run. out very slowly, through small holes in the bot-ed with a pleasing utterance. What is it which tom of these vials, and, as it lessened, the cork lulls the infant to repose? It is no array of mere descended, and showed by marks on the outside words. There is no charm to the untaught one how many hours had passed since it began to in letters, syllables, and sentences. It is the At length sun-dials came into use. The sound which strikes the little ear, that soothes first, of which we have any notice in the History and composes it to sleep. A few notes, howevof Rome, was that erected by Papirius Cursor; er unskilfully arranged, if uttered in a soft tone, we learn from Scripture, however, that dials are found to possess a magic influence. Think were in use among the Jews, as early, if not we that this influence is confined to the cradle ? earlier, than the reign of Ahaz. No, it is diffused over every age, and ceases not while the child remains under the paternal roof. Is the boy growing rude in manner and boisterous in speech? I know of no instrument so sure to control these tendencies as the gentle tones of a mother. She who speaks to her son harshly, does but give to his conduct the sanction of her own example. She pours oil on the already raging flame. D. When were clocks invented? M. Clocks and watches are of still more re. cent date; great skill in mechanics was requisite to bring them to their present degree of perfection. A striking clock was unknown till the end of the twelfth century; and the first set up in England was at Westminster, in 1288. It is said watches were first made in the city of Nuremburg. D. How are they set in motion? M. Watches move by an elastic steel spring, which is coiled up in the case, and, seeking to uncoil itself, gives motion to a wheel which turns all the others. Clocks are moved by a weight which turns a cylinder, and thus gives motion to the wheels.' D. Mother, I do not exactly know what you mean, when you say in the twelfth century, and 1288. It is usual to attempt the management of children either by corporal punishment, or by rewards addressed to the senses, or by words alone. There is one other means of government, the power and importance of which are seldom regarded. I refer to the human voice. A blow may be inflicted on a child accompanied by words so uttered, as to counteract entirely its intended effect. Or, the parent may use language in a correction of her child, not objectionable in itself, yet spoken in a tone which more than defeats its influence. We are by no means aware of the power of voice in swaying the feelings of the soul. The anecdote of the good lady in regard to her minister's sermons is to the point. She heard a discourse from him which pleased her exceedingly. She expressed to a friend the hope that he would preach it again. 66 "Perhaps." said her friend in reply, "he may print it." Ah," said she; "he could not print that holy tone." There is a tone in the pulpit, which, false as is the taste from which it proceeds, does indeed work wonders. So is there a tone in our intercourse with children which may be among the most efficient aids in their right education. Let any one endeavor to recall the image of a fond mother long since at rest in heaven. Her sweet smile and ever clear countenance are brought vividly to recollection. So also is her voice; and blessed is that parent who is endow In the pressure of duty, we are liable to utter ourselves hastily to our children. Perhaps a threat is expressed in a loud and irritating tone. Instead of allaying the passions of the child, it serves directly to increase them. Every fretful expression awakens in him the same spirit which produced it. THINGS BY THEIR RIGHT NAMES. C. A bloody murder, father. F. A bloody murder! Well, then, once upon a time, some men, dressed all alike.C. With black crapes over their faces? F. No, they had steel caps on. Having crossed a heath, they wound cautiously along the skirts of a deep forest C. They were ill looking fellows, I dare say. F. I cannot say so; on the contrary, they were tall personable men-leaving on their right hand an old ruined tower on the hill C. At midnight, just as the clock struck 12, was it not, father? F. No, really, on a fine balmy summer's morning-and they moved forward, one behind another C. As still as death, creeping along under the hedges? F. On the contrary, they walked remarkably upright; and so far from endeavoring to be hushed and still, they made a loud noise as they came along, with several sorts of instruments. C. But, father, they would be found out immediately. F. They did not seem to wish to conceal themselves; on the contrary, they seemed to glory in what they were about. They moved forward to a large plain, where stood a neat, pretty village, which they set on fire C. Set a village on fire! wicked wretches! F. And while it was burning, they murdered twenty thousand men! C. Oh fie! father; you do not intend that I should believe this! I thought all along you were making up a tale, as you often do; but you shall not catch me this time. What! they lay still, I suppose, and let these fellows cut their throats! F. No, truly, they resisted as long as they could. C. How should these men kill twenty thousand people, pray? F. Why not the murderers were thirty thousand! C. Oh! now I have found you out; you mean a battle. F. Indeed I do. I do not know of any murders half so bloody. STORY OF WASHINGTON. MR. EDITOR-I take the liberty to send you the following story, though perhaps you may have heard of it before. It is from the Life of George Washington. Yours, &c. P. S. Mrs. Washington owned a remarkably fine colt, which she valued very much. But though old enough for use, as it had never been mount ed, no one would venture to ride it, or attempt to break its wild and vicious spirit. George one day proposed to some of his young companions that they should assist him to secure the colt until he could mount it, as he was determined to try to tame it. Soon after sunrise, one morning, they drove the wild animal into an enclosure, and with great difficulty succeeded in placing a bridle on it. George then sprang upon its back, and the vexed colt bounded over the open field, prancing and plunging to get rid of its burden. The bold rider kept his seat firmly, and the struggle between them became alarming to his companions, who were watching him. The speed of the colt increased, until at length in making a furious effort to throw its conqueror, it burst a large blood-vessel and instantly died. George was unhurt, but was much troubled by the unexpected result of his exploit. His companions soon joined him, and when they saw the beautiful colt lifeless, the first words they spoke were: What will your mother say? Who can tell her? Byron, was early left under the entire control of an unprincipled mother, who fostered the pride, and cherished the selfishness of her son, while she cruelly wounded his sensibility, by unnatural remarks on his natural deformity of person. This injustice of the mother, for a defect beyond the power of his control, begat in his sensitive bosom the feelings of an outcast; he felt himself unjustly the object of contempt, and his wounded pride arrayed itself in hostility to mankind. The more he indulged himself in his misanthropy, the more he became ab sorbed in self; until his own character, sorrows and vices became the grand object of his thoughts, the centre of his affections, and his only theme for song. Hence we see one after another of the darkest shades of his own cha. racter interwoven and personified in his poems, while the sublimity and terrific grandeur of the natural scenery, surrounding his own "New. stead Abby," formed the back-ground of all his poetical pencilings. What a responsibility rested on the mother of such a son! And who can but deplore that his giant mind, so capable of blessing the world, should be left to so wild and perilous a develop. ment, with the purifying influences of Christian principle, and under the contro of a pernicious superstition? Who can wonder at the way. wardness of his mighty intellect, or that he has left behind him so many imperishable monuments of unsanctified genius, and of the cruel spoilations of maternal influence, "The man was what his mother made him.” For the same reason, I perused the biography of Napoleon Bonaparte. I very soon saw the germs of the son's character, in the character and pursuits of the mother. She was a woman of great personal beauty, possessed a vigorous mind, physical energy, and a proud and lofty spirit; her highest ambition was to shine as a woman of chivalrous spirit-she followed her husband in his expeditions on horseback-sharing his perils and fatigues during the war between Corsica and France; she ex-* They were called to breakfast, and soon after pended the energies of her mind, and the vigor they were seated at table, Mrs. Washington of her body, in flying from town to town, and said: Well, young gentlemen, have you seen village to village, to avoid captivity to the enemy fine sorrel colt in your rambles? No answer my, almost up to the period of Napoleon's was given, and the question was repeated. birth. Napoleon was her favorite son—she deHer son George then replied: Your sorrel colt sired him to be a soldier and a hero. He was is dead, mother. He then went on to give her what his mother made him. She fostered his an exact account of the event. The flush of love of power, by justifying his tyrannical displeasure which first rose on her cheek, soon treatment of his elder brother Joseph-not perpassed away, and she said calmly: While I re-mitting even a word of complaint from that gret the loss of my favorite, I rejoice in my son who always speaks the truth. THE MAN WAS WHAT HIS MOTHER MADE HIM. This rather startling remark was incidentally made in my presence some years ago. I then demurred as to its truth and propriety, but close observation, and the biography of distinguished persons has convinced me of the verity of the sentiment, and I use it now as a note of admonition to mothers, or rather as a mirror in which the mother may see reflected her vast responsibility. I took up the life of Byron, to discover, if possible, the origin of those dark traits so prominent in his character-and so banefully diffused through his works. brother of his ill-usage. The very toys of his childhood were subservient to his sole object of his education, and nursed the spirit of war, and his love of conquest and self-elevation. His mother lived to see his highest exaltation, and to lament the lowest depths of his fall, while a prisoner at St. Helena. How tremendous the responsibility of that mother! But we gladly turn to brighter examples of the same truth, and rejoice that there can be exalted genius, without the licentiousness of Byron, that there can be heroes without the spirit of self aggrandizement, tyranny, and cruelty of Napoleon. We turn with pleasure to the character of our own revered Washington. From all we can learn of his early history, we see the marks of vigilant parental influence, and we have good reason to believe the mother was a very active agent in the formation of his character. What a luxury would it have been to have learned from the lips or pen of Mrs. Washington, the entire process by which were clustered together so rich an assemblage of virtues. In the letters of the late Mrs. Adams, we find a happy illustration of maternal influence; and who can contemplate the character of her son, John Quincy Adams, (this almost last relic of that stern age,) standing as he does, like the oak, unscathed by the lightning of political strife, unharmed by the malignity of his foesunbending and fearless, in what he deems to be right, and not say in the language of our caption, "The man was what his mother made him."Mother's Journal. CHINESE AGRICULTURE. The greatest annual festival on which the sovereign appears in his sacerdotal character, is that of the celebration of the season of spring, which takes place about the middle of Februa. ry, and is one of those ancient observations that help to preserve the primitive character of this nation. It is then, that the Emperor performs the part of a husbandman, by ploughing and sowing seed in an enclosure set apart for that purpose near the palace. The day for the roy. al plowing is fixed by the Board of Rites, and this ceremony was accompanied by many so lemnities on the part of the Emperor, and those who were to assist at the sacrifices-such as fasting for three days until the evening of each, and abstaining from all kinds of amusement during that period. one of sixteen discourses read annually to the people. At the conclusion of the lecture he strikes the buffalo three times with a staff, when it is im mediately broken in pieces by the populace, and a number of little porcelain cows, with which it was filled, furnishes materials for a scramble. The rest of the day is devoted to amusements. It is thus that rulers of China, both by precept and example, stimulate their subjects to the pursuit of agriculture, so essential to the sup port of the empire. And, as the Emperor ploughs the ground and sows the seed, so the Empress also performs her part to encourage another most important branch of industry, by going through, (in appearance at least,) all the labors connected with the culture of silk.[Miss Carey's History of China. BOYS AND GIRLS. The times have indeed sadly changed. One entire portion of human life is struck out. It is now babyhood or manhood. There is no conservative state, (we do not speak politically.) Once there were intermediate states of boyhood -a barefooted and bean porridge eating statea spelling and cyphering period-when there were boys to do the chores and go on errands, when apprentices' indentures were in fashion, and the line between boyhood and manhood well defined by the "freedom suit." But there are no such things now. The child steps out of his diaper and froek into a "long tailed coat" and calf-skin boots. Not one of the present generation has ever seen a real bona fide," nine day old" pot of bean porridge: Noah Webster's Early on the morning of the festival, the Em- spelling book is crowded out of school by high peror, attended by the great officers of State, re-works on Philosophy and Metaphysics. There pairs to the temple of the Earth, where he makes sacrifices and implores a blessing on the labors of the spring, that they may produce a plentiful harvest; and when these rites are ended, he descends from the temple into the field, where all the requisite preparations have been made by forty or fifty husbandmen who are in attendance. The Emperor ploughs a few furrows with his own hands, and sows five sorts of grain; after which twelve grandees of the first rank, plough and sow in turn, and then the work is completed by the professional husbandmen, each of whom receives a present of a piece of Nanking cloth. The produce of this field is held sacred, and carefully preserved in a granary by itself, to be used for the most solemn sacrifices. The ploughing by the imperial husbandmen takes place only in the capital; but in every large city a ceremony is performed, called "meeting the spring," when the Governor assumes the character of high priest, and goes out in state, carried in a finely ornamented sedan chair, preceded by banners, lighted torches and music. He is followed by several mandarins in their sedans, and by a number of litters in which are placed children, who are fancifully dressed and crowned with flowers, representing various deities connected with the labors of the field. But the most prominent figure among the dra. matis persone is a huge earthen buffalo, the representative of spring, which is borne in procession to meet the high priest, who delivers a lecture on the benefits of husbandry, which is are no apprentices now. Young men take a few lessons in the trade they fancy, and then set up for themselves. But the present generation is destitute of girls as of boys. It is either baby or lady-nursery or parlor. The mother tends her infant or waits upon her daugter. Instead of spinning flax for father's shirts, they reel silk for the ladies' fair: and instead of knitting stockings and mending trowsers for their brothers, they work lace and make stays for themselves. The mother milks, churns, washes and irons, and young ladies read novels, dress, and make and receive calls. They make parties instead of puddings, and cook by the book rather than from knowledge. We should be delighted to see a generation of boys and giris-in looks, actions, and dresswe should then hope for health and strength, industry, frugality and economy, prosperity and happiness. We go for protection to this class of our community. Every father should protect and enforce home industry. He and his wife and children should enter into a Home League' on the subject. This is the tariff that will restore confidence. This is the bank that will freely discount and never suspend. DISTRICT SCHOOL JOURNAL, VOL. IV. OF THE STATE OF NEW-YORK. ALBANY, OCT., 1843. REPORTS OF COUNTY SUPERINTENDENTS. DELAWARE COUNTY. No. 7. with the child through life, and effectually prevent his ever making even a tolerable reader. NORMAL SCHOOLS RECOMMENDED. But the common defects in the quality of the instruction and modes of imparting it are not and of practical application is manifest throughconfined to reading alone. A want of method book, he is furnished with a copy of Murray's English Reader. The lesson commonly consists of several pages. Due regard is sometimes paid CAUSES OF THE LOW CONDITION OF THE SCHOOLS. to pronunciation, but scarcely ever to any other requisite of good reading, and in ninety-nine In assuming the superintendency of the schools schools out of every hundred, the sense and of Delaware county, we have felt the responsi- meaning of the author has nothing to do with bility of the task, and our own unfitness to per- the exercise. In too many schools, the dull moform it; and in endeavoring to discharge our du- notony of the exercise is not even enlivened by ties to the best of our ability, we have been both the teacher's example, and it is scarcely too elated and cast down; we have had frequent al-much to say, that children are often thus exerternations of hope and despair; we have seen cised for years, without deriving a single new some things to applaud and many to condemn; idea. But what is infinitely worse, the evils and in some things our previous views in relation of this wretched farce are not negative only, but to the schools, have undergone an important habits of inattention, and careless, slovenly, me. change. That our schools have been grossly neg-chanical reading are contracted, which will abide lected, and are now (as a general rule) in a degraded condition, few will risk their reputation for common sense by denying. Public opinion has long ascribed their degradation to the ignorance of our teachers, and perhaps in one sense this is correct. Still our experience and observation have led us to the conclusion that it is not correct to the extent generally believed. So far as out the whole course of common school instruc. mere literary qualifications are concerned, we consider their acquirements very generally retion, and there is good reason to apprehend that spectable-much more so indeed than we had the instruction of the school is often rendered anticipated previous to our late connexion with entirely useless from this cause; and until the formal routine which so generally obtains in the the schools as county superintendents. In our judgment, by far the greatest and most geschools shall be displaced by more rational and neral deficiency in our teachers, is a want of me judicious modes of imparting instruction, all at thod in communicating instruction, and perhaps tempts to impart to them a more intellectual a want of judgment in adapting instruction to character will we fear be attended with little the capacity of their pupils; in short, a want of success. To teach successfully, a man must not that common sense which may be denominated only understand science, but how to teach it. aptness to teach. Here is the grand and almost And we cannot but consider the contemplated universal defect of our teachers. Most of them establishment of normal schools to familiarize pursue a formal course, utterly devoid of inter- our teachers with better modes and more familiar illustrations, and, in short, to disseminate est to the scholars, and otherwise ill adapted to bring out and strengthen the intellectual powers. some knowledge of the science of teaching, a Indeed, the majority of our schools are conduct-step absolutely necessary to the success of the ed as if this was not one of the objects of education at all. Many of our teachers seem to act under this mistaken view of the subject, that education is not calculated to make man an intellectual being, but merely to make his mind a kind of storehouse of facts, without the slightest regard to the application of these facts in the business of life. Defective as is this notion of education, it is not more so than the means commonly used to carry it out. A more defective method of learning children to read, could scarcely (in our opinion) be devised, than that which usually obtains in our schools. So soon as the child is capable of mouthing the simple senten ces which are interspersed through the spelling system. The sooner such institutions are estab lished, and the more extended their ramifica tions, the sooner will the common schools assume an intellectual aspect, and the more wide spread and extensive will be their blessings. LIBRARIES. The enlightened policy of establishing school district libraries has, we think, been eminently successful, and done more for the dissemination of useful knowledge, than any other step that has ever been taken by our State for promoting the great cause of public instruction. The situ ation of these institutions, so far as we have had opportunity of judging, does great credit to the good sense and intelligence of the people of |