(i. e., of a system of training and tuition conducted by rule) to take this restless spirit, rejoicing in the consciousness of its awakened powers and thirsting for knowledge, and to conduct it, for a time, along the straight path of true wisdom. For, why was that spirit, in the very outset of its course, made so helpless? Why was it deprived of those instincts which conduct the inferior animals, infallibly, to their being's end and aim? Why attached for months to a mother's breast, and afterward sheltered and kept in life and health only by unceasing vigilance and care? Why, but to engage all a parent's energies in its nurture and full development; or, rather, why, but to engage them in fitting it for the unending work of self-development? The brute needs but a few powers, for it has but few wants, and they are to last but a few years. Man has wants and desires as boundless as his own immortality.

To educate the intellect, then, is to so unfold, direct, and strengthen it, that it shall be prepared to be, through all its future course, a zealous and successful seeker after truth. It is to give it control of its own powers, and to teach it towards what those powers should be directed. It is to en dow it by practice with the ability to collect its energies at will, and to fix them long on one point. It is to train the senses to observe accurately; the memory to register carefully and recall readily; the reason to compare, reflect, and judge without partiality or passion. It is to infuse into the soul a principle of enduring activity and curiosity, such that it shall ever be awake in quest of light, never counting itself to have apprehended, but pressing continually forward towards higher truths and a larger knowledge.

Again, man begins life without virtue. He has propensities that urge him to self-gratification, affections that impel him to gratify others, and moral instincts that incline him to

duty. But, left to himself and without culture, his propensities predominate; the affections spend themselves in capricious acts of kindness or charity; and the moral instincts raise, without effect, their solemn and monitory voice. It is the office of moral education to harmonize these contending and irregular powers, by restoring conscience to its rightful authority, and by replacing unreflecting impulses with fixed and enlightened principles. It is its business to cultivate habits which make man master of himself, and which enable him, even when pressed by fierce temptation, to prefer loss, disgrace, and death itself, before dishonour. "The great principle and foundation of all virtue," says Locke, "lies in this: that a man is able to deny himself his own desires, cross his own inclinations, and purely follow what reason directs as best, though the appetite lean the other way."

Again, man begins life without taste. Through his senses, he is early attracted and charmed by what he terms beautiful. As he advances in years, these impressions, made by outward objects, blend themselves with remembrances of the past, and with creations of the mind itself. The result is seen in conceptions which bear away the soul from the imperfections and trials of actual life, to a world of imagined purity, beauty, and bliss. Now, in the untutored mind, these conceptions are rude and often uncouth. It is the province of education to give them form and symmetry-to teach the true difference between beauty and deformity-to inspire a love for simple excellence in literature and art, as well as a taste for the beauties and sublimities of nature-and, finally, to awaken a profound reverence for moral grandeur, and thus kindle aspirations after glory, honour, and immortality.

Finally, man begins life without physical vigour. Nei
C

ther his intellectual nor his moral powers can hold intercourse with, or act upon the world without, except through material organs. And in our present state, these organs are also necessary to the soul, even in its more spiritual operations; and they weigh it down to imbecility whenever they become greatly diseased or enfeebled. Mark how a Cæ

sar quails before this foe!

"He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake; 'tis true, this god did shake :
His coward lips did from their colour fly;

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,
Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan;

Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius,
As a sick girl."

Hence the unspeakable importance of physical education, which teaches us how to guard against many diseases, how to maintain and improve the vigour of our bodies, and how to develop and perfect the delicacy of our senses.

Do we ask, then, What is Education, or what, in the language of Milton, is a "virtuous and noble education?" The answer is ready. It is, whatever tends to train up to a healthy and graceful activity our mental and bodily powers, our affections, manners,* and habits. It is the business, of

* The cultivation of manners is not sufficiently regarded in our systems of popular education. The following remarks of an English manufacturer, who devoted great care to the education of the families employed by him, are full of truth, and are applicable to our own country. "The importance of good manners among this class of people, as among all others, appeared to me to be very great, more so than is generally acknowledged; for though every one approves and admires them when met with, little attention is paid to their cultivation in the systems of instruction for the labouring

course, of all our lives, or, more properly, of the whole duration of our being. But since impressions made early are the deepest and most lasting, that is, above all, education which tends in childhood and youth to form a manly, upright, and generous character, and thus to lay the foundation for a course of liberal and virtuous self-culture. "The education," says an able writer, "required for the people, is that which will give them the full command of every faculty, both of mind and body; which will call into play their powers of observation and reflection; which will make thinking and reasonable beings of the mere creatures of impulse, prejudice, and passion; that which, in a moral sense, will give them objects of pursuit and habits of conduct, favourable to their own happiness, and to that of the community of which they will form a part; which, by multiplying the means of rational and intellectual enjoyment, will diminish the temptations of vice and sensuality; which, in the social relations of life, and as connected with objects of legislation, will teach them the identity of the individual with the general interest; that which, in the physical sciences-especially those of Chemistry and Mechanics-will make them masters of the secrets of nature, and give them powers which even now tend to elevate the moderns to a higher classes. I wish to see our people distinguished by their good manners, not so much for the sake of those manners, as because they indicate more than they show, and they tend powerfully to nourish and protect the growth of the virtues which they indicate. What are they, indeed, when rightly considered, but the silent though active expression of Christian feelings and dispositions? The gentleness, the tenderness, the delicacy, the patience, the forbearance, the fear of giving pain, the repression of all angry and resentful feelings, the respect and consideration due to a fellow-man, and which every one should be ready to pay and expect to receive-what is all this but the very spirit of courtesy? What is it but the very spirit of Christianity? And what is there in this that is not equally an ornament to the palace and the cottage, to the nobleman and the peasant?"

rank than that of the demigods of antiquity. All this, and more, should be embraced in that scheme of education which would be worthy of statesmen to give, and of a great nation to receive; and the time is near at hand when the attainment of an object thus comprehensive in its character, and leading to results, the practical benefits of which it is almost impossible for even the imagination to exaggerate, will not be considered a Utopian dream."*

SECTION II.

PREVAILING ERRORS IN REGARD TO THE NATURE AND END OF EDUCATION.

"Locke was not like the pedants of his own or other ages, who think that to pour their wordy book-learning into the memory is the true discipline of childhood."-HALLAM.

Ir the sketch which we have thus drawn of the nature and ends of education be correct, it must be evident that it is a subject in regard to which great misconception prevails. We apprehend, indeed, that hardly one cause so much contributes to maintain existing evils and imperfections in our educational system as the prevalence of these misconceptions. "The improvement of education," says another, "will alone lead to its extension ;" and we add, that a clearer comprehension of its nature will alone lead to its improvement. Changes may be multiplied, but they will rarely prove to be improvements, unless they proceed on a clear and definite understanding of the end to be attained. Means are wisely chosen only when they are precisely adapted to the object sought, and they are thus adapted, only when that object stands out clearly and boldly before the mind. Let us, then, look at some of these prevailing misconceptions.

* Westminster Review.