of the plot. While this experience of semi-seusuous delight goes on, hardly any other power of the mind gets any opportunity for exercise but the passive. imagination. Without thought or effort. the mind drifts onward upon a stream which suggests, as to the lotus-eaters of old, only a state of dreamful ease.

The psychological aspects of this habit are deserving of more careful consideration than they have received. Not only is such indulgence unfavorable to a reflective. spirit, it is antagonistic to it. The nervous energy is drained off in the indulgence of emotional excitement, and nothing is left for summoning the mind to an intellectual task. There is but little occasion for the exercise of the judgment, for the imaginary experiences are likely to be remote from those with which they are familiar. There is no call made upon the will, for the attention is carried steadily forward without any sense of effort. Madame Necker very aptly observes that reflection begins when the child undertakes to choose a term to express his thought. It is this return of intelligence upon itself that constitutes reflection. This arrest of attention, this return of intelligence upon itself, involves a time element, for which no place can be found when the mind is absorbed in fiction literature. The agreeable associations which accompany the indulgence powerfully coöperate to perpetuate the habit. The educator cannot afford to shut his eyes to conditions so unfavorable to a harmonious mental growth. He must speak out plainly, even if he invite the censure of those who think that they have quite settled what the young should read.

Another reason why our students exhibit a noticeable absence of a philosophical spirit, is to be found in a faulty educational practice. The processes of senseperception and observation have assumed a relatively too prominent position in the work of the class-room. The emphasis is laid too exclusively upon the acquisition of facts. Note-books, diagrams and drawings are multiplied and often elaborated with a large expenditure of time and effort. The attention is directed with such a concentration of its energy upon the collection of facts and the observation of phenomena, that it is quite natural to conclude that there is nothing beyond these of much importance. And hence it is that natural science is pursued with

hardly a suspicion that it holds the key to a larger view of the world, and to a connected system of things. Thus, too, the study of history is deprived of its most fascinating charm as the revelation of a slowly unfolding process, and too often degenerates into a comparison of authorities or an examination of documents. To all this it will doubtless be urged that the student is not yet prepared for this comprehensive grasp of ideas and causes. Certainly not, in their complete and adequate relations, but his mental training must be so directed that a spirit of inquiry shall be incited and a wider and truer view of the world shall at length be possible.

In the light of our recent educational theory and practice it appears to be quite generally agreed that there are periods in the development of the child which are especially favorable to the acquisition of specific mental habits. If these periods are allowed to pass by without taking advantage of the favorable opportunity, the teacher is placed at a disadvantage in conducting the process of education, and the student is left to experience the consequences of this neglect. There is no doubt that the larger place more recently assigned to both physical and natural science is tending to prolong the period of observation. Accurate observation is intended to furnish only the materials of knowledge. An education that does not provide for the wise and effective use of them is more or less a failure. There is good reason to believe that if some systematic attempt is not made to cultivate a habit of reflection between the ages of fourteen and seventeen, the results of culture must be unduly postponed, if they are not meagre and unsatisfactory. The dissatisfaction of German educators with the results of a too exclusively scientific education in the Real-Schulen seems to point in this direction.

We are gradually coming to understand that our subjects and methods of instruction must be arranged to secure the most free and fruitful unfolding of all the mental forms. Such harmonious development is put in serious peril by any indulgence which fosters the growth of an indolent or unbalanced mental life. "Read whatever interests you," was the easy-going prescription of Dr. Johnson. It doubtless meets the needs of all those who are satisfied to let others do their thinking for them. But a greater than

Dr. Johnson has said : Read not to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider." Such a maxim has a high educational value, even if none of the pedagogic fathers have stood sponsor for it. Nor is it so difficult to reduce to practice as might be supposed. I have before me a Reading Course for young people, from ten to fifteen years of age, in which fiction proper holds a very subordinate place. It prescribes for reading, selections from such poets as Longfellow, Tennyson, Whittier and Lowell; from the plays of Shakespeare, and from such masters of prose as Mrs. Stowe, George Eliot and Hawthorne. Such a course of reading is the expression of an attempt to control the reading habits of young people, and provide them with something more nutritious than is likely to fall to the lot of those who are left to roam at will in the barren waste of light literature, as it is aptly named. Francis Galton has somewhere observed that the wide diffusion of intelligence has not produced those results which its friends have anticipated. It would not be surprising if the lack of a reflective spirit is in some wise responsible for it.-Education.

GROWTH OF THE SOUL.

BY EMMA ECHOLS.

[ARGARET FULLER, in a brief resumé of her own youth, said“Very early I knew that the only object in life was to grow." When the soul awakens to the consciousness of growth, environment may impede, but it cannot check expansion, for then the soul comes in touch, is in unity with the Divine.

My youngest son had entertained several little friends that afternoon, wee tots in the neighborhood, to whom he was always noticeably kind, and being some older than they, was always ready to excuse their faults. We thought it a most sweet and generous spirit in him, personally, but were perhaps not over charitable in criticism of little, thoughtless vandalisms which occasionally occurred.

My son knew I held him responsible for his friends, and when I went to him for an explanation of this mishap, he immediately said-"It was little Eddie; please excuse him, mamma dear, he did it quite without thinking, and it happened when I left him to go in the house a minute, and see, I have covered the wound with earth."

Eddie was four years old. I did not personally know his parents, and felt quite justified in issuing the edict, "that it was better for such a little mite to stay at home."

Several weeks passed-new leaves have expanded and developed on the favorite plant. The punctured leaf remains a pronounced blight to plant perfection. The restless little fingers that unthinkingly mutilated it are stilled forever-the child soul is called up higher. And when the knowledge came to me of this dear child at peace," I thought: "O, that I had kissed the baby fingers in place of reproving." That unsightly leaf will be a silent, a constant witness to me of a lost opportunity of taking the baby form in my arms, and not only overlooking the immaterial effacement, but feeling glad for the impress of one of God's little ones on something visible.

I thought of Margaret Fuller's words: "I saw," she said, "how long it must be before the soul can learn to act under these limitations of time and space and human nature; but I saw also that it must do it. I saw that there was no self, that selfishness was all folly.”

opened leaf mutilated and bleeding from an oblong puncture, which gave evident proof that some little fingers had nipped it, and then, perhaps realizing the error, tried to doctor it, for the ragged edges were plastered with mud. I was certainly annoyed at what then impressed me as ruthless mischief.

This marvelous woman, of whom Emerson said: "It was as natural for people to confide in her, as for flowers to

perfect sympathy with childhood. To her brother when he began teaching, she wrote: "The most important rule is, in all relations with our fellow creatures, never forget that if they are imperfect persons, they are immortal souls; and treat them as you would wish to be treated by the light of that thought."

In Count Tolstoi's book, "Where Love is there God is also," a young lad commits an error; an old woman is intent on chastising him for the deed; but an old shoemaker full of the Christ spirit says: "Forgive him, babushka, forgive him; all should be forgiven, and the thoughtless especially."

Living on the higher plane of selfeffacement, we shall not mind the temporary slights and irregularities which must enter into the woof and warp of all lives, but will have a new understanding of the meaning of life. When soul touches soul, we shall know true unity with the Divine, and life will be a cumulative inward growth.-Education.

CORRESPONDENCE TEACHING.

TH

BY PROF. S. F. PELlet.

HE system of correspondence teaching is unique, and it is characteristic of the latter half of the nineteenth century, when efforts of every kind are being made to assist both old and young to gain an education. Teaching by correspondence has been carried on to a slight extent for many years; but it is only within the past five years that a university has taken up the work and that regular courses have been arranged, aiming to accomplish the same work as that done in preparatory schools, colleges or universities. So new is the subject that the majority of people are entirely ignorant of it; and even if they have heard that such a system of education exists, they do not understand its methods nor do they realize the advantages it offers.

The difficulties which face an individual student attempting to carry on a course of study with no assistance from tutor or friend, with no fixed plan or outline of work, many have realized from experience-difficulties so great that they discourage not only a boy or girl, but even a man or woman of mature mind. If satisfactory work can be done by correspondence, if the correspondence method of study is really an efficient one, then it will supply a want long felt by many a teacher or pupil in a country town desiring instruction in some particular subject.

But the question naturally asked is, "Can students do satisfactory work by

this system?" On this point educators may differ. The opponents of the system argue that the student does not gain the inspiration which comes from contact with a good teacher. That is true, and is a strong objection; yet results prove that it is not so strong as it seems.

Then, the opponents say that the student receives no stimulus from class rivalry, and that the correspondence method of study requires great effort on his part. But these very facts increase the value of the results accomplished. The student must do all the thinking for himself, he must depend upon his own resources, he must learn every lesson and every part of every lesson, since he alone must recite it. There is no possibility of appeal to a class mate to solve for him difficult points, nor can he hope that another may be called upon to recite that portion of the lesson which he himself has not had time to prepare. Moreover, the student learns to express his ideas with brevity, exactness and clearness. Inelegant translations in the languages, careless explanations in mathematics, rambling responses in history or political science so often heard in a recitation; the idea that it is better to say something, even if incorrect, than to confess ignorance, no instructor will tolerate in a written paper, and no student will be so follish as to attempt a second time.

One great advantage of the system is that the instruction sheets are sent out in advance, so that every available moment of time may be employed. If a student is capable of learning several lessons a week, he is allowed to do so; or if he needs a longer time for one lesson, that too is granted. There is no cause for hurrying over difficult or important points, and he is not delayed by the slower progress of one who does not learn so rapidly as he. It is also possible to begin at any time, thus there is no limit to the amount one is allowed to accomplish except that imposed by his own ability and strength.

But from the students themselves comes the best answer as to the efficiency of the system.

During five years I have never known a student, and have never heard of one, who was dissatisfied with the results of the work. It is not at all unusual for students to write, after the completion of a course, that they feel that they have derived greater benefit from a study taken

by correspondence than from a similar course in school or college. For, if nothing else, they have gained independence of thought and a confidence in their own ability which the ordinary methods of class-room teaching do not always develop.

A student in literature writes: "I am very conscious of the great help the work was to me at a time when like many other people I was in danger of getting into a habit of nearly profitless reading." The two greatest temptations to a student left much to his or her own devices in the matter of reading are, I think, to read, very superficially, whatever comes handy. Following a course for a few months tends to counteract both these failings. To get through as much work as must be done each week means that no time is to be lost in going over to-day what you skimmed yesterday; you must read once for all. As you settle down to the work, you realize how much it adds an interest to life to have a special subject. I suppose that after a certain point every one must work on his own lines, but it is always a help and encouragement to have the opportunity of consulting some one who knows much more about the matter than you do. It is here that the written work becomes so useful. To begin with, it means that the student must every week do some thinking for himself, and that the instructor can tell him which of his thoughts are estimable and which he has written foolishly or carelessly. Now from my own experience, I must confess that if a criticism was made to me in the form of a statement, I should be far more likely to forget it than if it had come as a correction to a mis statement of my own."

I knew personaily one student who, although in residence at the woman's halls of the university, preferred to take courses in history and literature by correspondence to attending recitations in the same subjects, claiming that she gained more real benefit from writing out the answers to the questions on the instruction sheets and from the instructor's criticism on her own individual work in every lesson, than from attendance at the class room exercise. That was an extreme case and one not to be recommended. It is not the aim of the correspondence method of study to supplant the regular schools or colleges; but its aim is to assist those who cannot go to college to study and to study with system.

Here correspondence-study has a great duty and a grand opportunity. Its organization especially fits it to meet the demand of the situation. The success in numbers and interest which this work has already met is only an earnest of what is yet to come. In the department of Latin alone, in twelve courses offered in that subject, are enrolled students preparing for college, college students, teachers, professors, school superintendents, ministers, doctors and business men. And these students represent every section of the country, Texas, Minnesota, Maine, Oklahoma, Washington. And even across the Pacific in Japan, a native Japanese is now taking the first course offered in Latin. During the year which is just closing over 550 students have been engaged in study in the Correspondence Department of the University of Chicago, and in many cases results of a very high order have been accomplished. The work is confined largely to courses which do not demand laboratory facilities, but about twenty departments of regular university work have been represented, actively engaging about sixty instructors.

OBJECT LESSONS IN TRAINING.

TRUE STORIES FROM SUPERVISOR'S NOTE-BOOK.

SUCH

UCH a pleasant school-room and wise and progressive teacher! She is a mother and knows and loves the children; she is versatile in resources and yet quiet, with great power of firm, undemonstrative control. She has many of the freshest and best devices for teaching by the best methods; everything she does has a meaning and is adapted to the wants and development of her class. I take her some knives and scissors, saying, "I don't know that you want these, Mrs. you have so many things and do such beautiful work and keep such good order;" but she replies eagerly, "O, that is just exactly what I want. I have been trying to think of something for Peter; you see him there by the door, he is asleep. He often comes drowsy and stupid and half-intoxicated; he is filthy and profane, and smokes and chews tobacco, and may be under-witted; he does almost nothing. Perhaps he would be waked up by a knife to use." So I give my tools and know they will not be

neglected or misused here, and I visit the school again in a week. "How is Peter?" "Why, I cannot tell you how he has improved. I let him take a knife and wood, and we have begun some Sloyd-work right in the room. We let boys who have done their work whittle, and a number of things have been made; the boys are delighted with it, and are so good and neat about it! We have saved these things they have made, to show you. And who do you think has done the best piece of work? Peter, bring your stick to Mrs. Hopkins, who gave us the knives. "Why, is this Peter's? How even and smooth it is-and it seems to me Peter has made himself look nicer too." "Yes, Peter made such a good stick that I set it up for a model, and Peter is so glad to do something that is really good, that he has improved ever since, and is getting to be a very good boy. I think he is not going to drink any more, because it makes him so dull."

The next week I go again; the change in Peter is still more striking; he is getting bright, and takes an interest in his studies. He has made an extremely good spade, which is exhibited with the Sloyd-work of the boys, and is really much the best piece of work seen. Peter has learned that he can excel in this thing. He has begun to respect himself; he is leaving off his bad habits and attending not only to his conduct, but to his person; he looks human, and is agreeable. After a few weeks I visit the school once more. The Sloyd has developed into a shop with benches and tools, and Peter gets his lessons well, that he may be allowed to go into the shop at times. He helps the other boys there; he stays after school and comes before school to get things in order and work at the models; his work is still by far the best in the shop. He is a kind of master workman; his hair is brushed, he is clean, he is neatly dressed with the help of some who care for his success, and he is getting to be a good scholar. The teacher says he has dropped all his bad habits, is trustworthy and steady. When I go out of the school with my traps into the rain, he asks to go and carry my bag and my umbrella, and help me into the car. He is a gentleman. He is regenerated by faith in his power to achieve.

*

*

A bright, spick and span little fellow, six years old, was detailed one day to show me the way from his school to an

We

other primary in the same district. walked near the Massachusetts General Hospital. "Have you ever been in there?" said he. "No, have you?" "Yes, a dog bit me in the leg and I went there to have it fixed." through your stocking?"

66

Did he bite "Yes, it made

a great hole in my leg and they sewed it up." "Did they kill the dog?" "No. it didn't hurt me and I didn't kill the dog. I might have shot him with my gun.-I shot an Indian once." "Where was that?" "Out west. "How did you go there?" "I rode on my horse. Who saw you shoot the Indian ?" 'There were two thousand other Indians; they all ran away when I killed him." When was it?" "Last summer; before I went to the bottom of the sea.' "Is your name McGinty?" — and I laughed. By this time we had reached the school. I shook hands with the little fellow and said: "You have entertained me with your stories. I thank you, but of course you don't expect me to believe them; they are made-up stories, aren't they?" The child looked a little disappointed and a little puzzled, and with a vague smile returned my good-bye and went back to school.

A conscientious teacher to whom I related the occurrence, said, "But didn't you tell him that these things were not true?" "No," I answered, they were not moral delinquencies. The child's imagination was vivid, and everything he saw or spoke of suggested an imaginary scene and plot. He could not have understood that there was any grave wrong in it. It was better to bring home to him the natural penalty of misrepresentation, viz., my disbelief of his story. He would think that over and be reasonably affected by it in telling a story again; he would learn to discriminate better between truth and fiction. I would not treat such a matter arbitrarily and inflict a punishment which would only make him the slave of fear. Keep close to nature in moral training; let the penalty be the natural penalty of the fault, and therefore the best means of educating the moral sense. The most healthful thing for a child who wanders from the truth is to find that he is not believed.

THE NAUGHTY LITTLE GIRL WHO WAS TO

BE EXPELLED.

I got a note the other day from Miss asking me to come as soon as possi