AN ADDRESS TO THE TEACHERS IN A NATIONAL OR SUNDAY

SCHOOL.

BY DAVID GUNTON.

MY YOUNG FRIENDS,

It would be utterly in vain to advise a man of my temperament, to enter upon the consideration of so splendid a subject as Education, in any of its ramifications, with coolness and even feeling. Peter the hermit, never preached up the Crusades in a fit of purer phrenzy; nor did Alexander, or Cyrus, or Napoleon, look upon the glories of military exploit, with greater complacency; nor have poets' brains been rapt in dreams of holier imagination,-for our topic is of all others, most calculated to arouse and excite those sentiments, which sanctify the heart and dignify the man.

Nor is this subject fraught with less reality than heavenly brightness, and whilst I become a worshipper at the shrine of Minerva, I cannot lose sight of the practical blessings, and solid good, that follow in her train.—Tell me not then of higher ambition, of loftier pursuits, than those belonging to the Educator.-The king's power is brute force, his influence an army, his argument the bullet, where there is no Schoolmaster.-Senators are only privileged makers of tyrannical laws, and magistrates policemen, where there is no Schoolmaster.-Prisons are churches, and the lock-up and cage, chapels, and society at large, human only in appearance, where there is no Schoolmaster.

I tell you plainly the office has no superior, and its effects have no contrast. When nature can boast of a fairer light than yon kingly orb, and evening rejoice in a sweeter brightness than Luna can bestow, then, and only then, shall the universe of mind disfavour and disown the galaxy of intelligence, thrown down upon it by the constellation of the Schoolmaster.

Look at the majesty of science, the blessings of civilization, and the grace of morals.-Think of the gradual development of agencies next to miraculous,—the perfection of schemes, which our fathers would have denounced as utterly impracticable, and you will see amidst all their intricacies and springs, the talismanic hand of the Schoolmaster. Knowledge is written upon our commonest comforts, engraven on our habitations, pillared and sculptured on our halls and palaces, and hymned and praised, by the myriad tongues of our happy favoured land.

Nor let any one suppose that I am following airy steps, and acting the devotee to a glittering vision, for I mean by knowledge, the fear of God, which is truly the beginning of wisdom,-letters and religion are so interlaced and intertwined in my definition of Education, that they can never be separated.-Learning is moonlight without religion,-it has not upon it the water-mark, the stamp of currency, save as it bears the deep impression of God's truth.-Learning, true learning, clings around the oak of revelation, and when torn away from its support, is only a weak and beautiful weed.

Nor do I lose sight of the truth, that in an army, whilst all have one object to accomplish, one aim in view, and all share in the common glory, there are differences of office and position,—I look therefore upon every teacher, yes every Sunday School teacher especially, as being a valorous and valuable agent in the combat against ignorance, and especially that which is moral. You, if rightly apprehending your duties, are performing a part which shall result in the highest benefit. Not in senate or religious niche may your honours be recorded. Nor in history or

in song your name be inscribed, but it will be if you are only faithful, that God shall smile, that angels shall applaud, that the book of life shall testify, that heaven itself shall witness, the triumphs of your holy and devoted labour.

May I ask you whether you entertain these noble and inspiring views, then you labour with zeal, and fortify yourselves with patience, run on the impulses of affection,-and conscience, being the interpreter of your duty,-you lose no opportu nity of sustaining your office with competency and effect.

Now let me call you back to the common fact, that magnificent results mostly depend upon a series of simple and ordinary causes. Nor in our eulogy of Education, let us for a moment forget, that all its results rest upon the diligence of its agents, and the amount of knowledge which they possess.

Your mere pop-gun teachers, will never kill a single stripling under the banner of ignorance. The mere bubble instructor, will direct the mind only a few steps upwards. The vulgar truth is this,-know something well yourself,-know it in all its bearings and aspects, in all its varieties and interpretations, in all its parts and entierty. Let every piece of knowledge, to be communicated, be before your mental eye as a map, over every line of which you can pass your finger,—as a model whose pieces you can unloose and replace, demonstrating their mutual dependency and pointing out their individual need, in carrying out the design. Become builders up and breakers down,-composers and analyzers, for unless you thus understand the thing you affect to teach, you mislead and blunder, and become the instrument of a quackery, more desperate than Morrison, and audacious than Holoway.

Your great and noble text book is the Bible, and whilst you make yourself perfectly skilled in the letter and morals of this, remember that to comprehend its relation, to see the relavency of its parts, you must rise into little chronologers, and historians, understand geography physically and civilly, know somewhat of human mind and manners, and the phases which nations put on, as they feel the influences of enlightenment and religion.-Nor shall I need to urge you to this task, for the conscientious man, who feels his lack, will soon supply it, and whilst the inefficient and ignorant, who want the best incitements, fall out of your ranks, they will only make room for better hands, who wait but the roll of the drum, and the hoisting of the ensign, to join your fine and victorious band.

So much for knowledge.—But you will say, that every clever man is not a good teacher, and this we will allow in an instant. A man may have read with a Magliabecehi, and may possess the genius and research of a Newton, and yet be a poor teacher. To learn is one thing, and to teach is another. Whilst without information, no one can communicate knowledge, it is at the same time not less true, that he may know what to teach, whilst he is grossly ignorant how to teach. There is the art of teaching, as well as surgery or watchmaking, for the practice of which, the Educator must undergo a course of training, ere he can perform efficiently, the functions of his important and honourable office.

But there are attributes of character, and gifts of God's grace that must be attained, or a man, with all his head skill, will be as awkward as a bear in a quadrille, or a bumpkin at the cut and thrust of the short sword.

Now in what I should call the ethics of teaching, I would particularly dwell upon patience, and control of temper. Nothing makes a man so brute-like as hot violent outbreaks of anger. It at once takes him down from the pinnacle of manhood, and classes him with the wild beast, whose wish is propounded by a roar, and whose purpose is accomplished by a pounce of savagery. The blustering threat and cracking downfall of the stick, will certainly make you feared, and perhaps

hated, but as you have a moral end in view, you will soon perceive that these are not the agents of its accomplishment. If the world is to be converted by harsh measures, then the Gospel is wrong, and we had better substitute in its stead lynch law, and an army of military marauders, instead of a standing ministry. If your children and youths are to be cuffed and fisted into knowledge, their teachers should be members of the prize ring, and versed in the art of boxing. I tell you then to break up the stick system, and learn, that self possession, and a calm equanimity of deportment, will give you a far better tutelary power over your pupils; while the want of it will communicate itself back again to the children, and produce new sources of irritation without end. I don't say that there is no difficult self-conflict to be endured, knowing that your office requires even the patience of Job.

Yet I repeat the fact, that hard as is the attainment of this state of mind, it is worth all its cost, and will not only add, but be the main auxiliary, in the successful discharge of your duty. Let there be affection and candour, rather than sternness and affected distance, for the more a teacher can feel himself as the Latins say, in loco parentis, the nearer he brings the instructed to himself, and places him under a spell, that will make the task of acquirement light, and the duty of obedience a pleasure. In a mass of boys gathered from the highways and hedges, I am aware that certain dispositions will be manifested, that make a child very unlovely; but this will the more excite both your pity and diligence, and after all, I can aver from my own experience, that snow is not less easily melted by the sun, nor iron by intense heat, than the most untoward and obstinate boy, by affectionate and prayerful remonstrance.-But suppose you have a remarkable case of wickedness, that yields not to regular treatment, I would recommend you to take the child aside to your vestry, or class room, and there kneel down with him before the broad eye of God, beseeching Him, that His spirit may break down his heart, and reward you openly, by sending him back to his fellows, contrite and amended.

ECONOMICAL HINTS TO COTTAGERS.
Continued from Page 88.

A button, a string, or any little thing wanting to your dress, not only makes you feel uncomfortable, but gives you an untidy look, which is so prejudicial to your appearance. Do not lull your conscience; if you feel no inclination to take that trouble, by saying "I shall only burn more candle than my work is worth," but recollect how many hours of candle-light you so often waste by the careless trick of letting it burn so low as to heat the candlestick before you raise it up. You will be startled when I tell you that I have no doubt but at the very least one eighth part of every candle is so wasted; and by too close snuffing, which always makes it run over, and consequently last a shorter time, whereas, if you would but attend to it while burning, and avoid these wasteful methods, and that of carrying it round the house without ever guarding it from the air by your hand, you would find at the end of the week, a greater difference in your expenditure of that article than you could suppose. If you did but save as much as would purchase you a tea-cake for your Sunday evening repast, you would have a peculiar pleasure in enjoying this fruit of a little economy.

Another wasteful habit I have too frequently witnessed, is that of leaving Soap in water till too soft to be used. Whilst washing linen it may be of some use in

softening the water, but surely none whilst washing your hands, &c. Again in the article of Cotton balls, what havock do you often observe, instead of making every needle-full go as far as it can, and keeping yourselves from running to the shops so much, more frequently than you would otherwise have occasion to do, if your work box was well arranged, and all your pieces carefully laid up, how often would you find the advantage of it, when repairing your apparel. What you think useless pieces, should on no account be flung away or burnt (the too general practice,) but always bear in mind that every atom is of use, and have a bag at hand to receive what those who collect for paper makers will gladly give you pins or many little necessary articles for. Even of coloured shreds they make brown papers, so that for those they will give you something. Your old Shoes too, the gun makers will purchase, as they cannot polish their work without them. Woollen shreds if not of use to gardeners to nail up fruit trees, will make iron or kettle holders, or clean your tins, &c. with the addition of tallow that cannot be used up in your candlestick. In short nothing should be wasted; nothing should be burnt. There is no necessity to make your house untidy by preserving all these things, for every thing may be laid by in its proper place. Paper may be filed on a needle and thread, and preserved till wanted, pack-thread wound up, and every thing else in the same order. With regard to eatables, when you are fortunate enough to keep a pig, you will find that everything must be made the most of, even to the very skimmings of your pans, which you are too apt to throw into that general consumer, the fire. Apple-peelings and cores, the kernels of plums, which are in such abundance here, and which may so easily be collected, acorns when they can be procured, as well as many prodnctions, such as sow thistles, &c. in short almost anything that is green are all great helps in fattening a pig. But recollect that regular feeding, and a clean bed, will go a great way in this affair. You should always give it something three times a day, and where you can contrive it you should give it food as dry as possible in one trough, and what it drinks in another. It will fatten quicker, and be much firmer by this management. Never give it your potatoe peelings raw, (if you have pared them first,) but let them be boiled and well skimmed, and if you did the same to your cabbage stalks and leaves, your turnip and carrot peelings and tops, and all other vegetables, you would find how much better your pig would get on, and particularly if you added a handful of coarse-ground meal flour, refuse corn, which I should think you might easily procure. Grains too from the brewers or from any one that did not use them. The farmers would thank you for collecting the weeds from their fields, and when they saw you so industrious, they might possibly help you with a peck or two of beans, or dross corn. I need not remind you of your washings, which must be used up to the uttermost. I have no doubt by this management that almost any poor family might feed a pig to the size they usually kill them here; and think what comfort and plenty you wonld enjoy when you came to reap the fruits of this attention. I should not be so sanguine in my hopes of your making this answer, if I had not seen an instance of it in the North of England, where their pigs are nearly double the size of these, and where, incredible as it may appear, the farmers give them 30 or more bushels, before they have them as fat as they wish them. A poor woman, whose husband seldom earned more than 10s. a week, with a family of six children, contrived to feed a pig, and that a good large one, in the manner I speak of, getting perhaps a bushel of refuse corn at the last, which she -probably paid for when she killed the pig. She left not a place around unsought for any weeds or greens she could pick up; and she was continually boiling something or other for her pig; Christmas was therefore plentiful, and a happy season to her, when she killed it.

To be continued.