one knows—thus diffusing knowledge more widely, and the variety of natural talents and dispositions operating favourably on all. A similar effect takes place in the moral development of dispositions and habits in the play-ground, which may be noticed by the trainer on the return of the children to the school-gallery, and when again the sympathy of numbers operates favourably in applauding the good deed, or condemning the misdemeanor. There is a power, therefore, in numbers, not experienced in individual teaching or training; and the play-ground and the gallery conjoined, under proper management and superintendence, afford the most perfect sympathy.

Whilst the pupils sympathise with each other, it is important that the children sympathise with their master. For this purpose, it is necessary that he place himself on such terms with his pupils as that they can, without fear, make him their confidant, unburden their minds, and tell him any little story, or mischievous occurrence. Teachers and parents, desirous of gaining the confidence of their children, must in fact, themselves, as it were, become children, by bending to, and occasionally engaging in, their plays and amusements. Without such condescension, a perfect knowledge of real character and dispositions cannot be obtained.

It is almost unnecessary to furnish proofs of the power of the sympathy of numbers. Witness the enthusiasm of a crowded public meeting or house of Parliament, and the chilling effect of a thin assembly. What clergyman's feelings are insensible to the influence of numbers, compared to halffilled benches? What listener does not catch something of the enthusiasm of the speaker in the one case, and the damping influence of the latter? See the ardour of a crowd of children at play, compared to the solitary game engaged in by one or two individuals.

Examples might be furnished without end, of the power of

the sympathy of numbers. Every person feels its influence in the church—the public meeting-the place of public resort-in music-in politics-in private and in social life.

Sympathy is a principle of our nature which may be directed to good or evil, and is more or less powerful in proportion to the proximity and concentration of numbers.

CHAPTER XI.

TEACHING IS NOT TRAINING-THE FORCE OF HABIT.

LITTLE requires to be said on this particular head, as much of the scope of the argument for the system under consideration lies in this important distinction.

Training may either be intellectual, physical, or moral. Intellectual training may be conducted separately—so may physical-but moral training, while it in a great measure includes the other two, is in itself a more elevated cultivation than either.

Teaching may be stated as the infusion of principles; and training as the formation of habits. The training of a child in the intellectual department is not so much affording instruction, as it is giving the mind a habit of thinking correctly on every subject. The same may be stated in regard to the moral affections: it is training the child to feel aright—and also in regard to the bodily organs, training to the habit of acting aright.

The idea of physical training is not objected to. Moral training, in contradistinction to mere instruction, is admitted by many; but that the intellect requires a similar process of training or anything more than simple instruction is very generally repudiated even by highly intellectual and cultivated

men.

The distinction between teaching and training might be illustrated in a thousand forms.

A parent or schoolmaster, who trains properly, will of course, in the first instance, check the more obvious faults

of his children, and not nibble at trifles. This is a fundamental principle in all training. The less apparent faults he will take up at a subsequent period as they are developed, and thus gradually mould and polish the character.

We may mention a few of the evil propensities and habits which the parent or trainer of a school ought to restrain and suppress as they are developed; whether mental, in the school gallery, or practical, in the school play-ground, viz., rudeness, selfishness, deceit, indecency, disorder, evil-speaking, cruelty, want of courtesy, anger, revenge, injustice, impatience, covetousness, and dishonesty, so fearfully general in society.

On the contrary, all the amiable feelings and Christian virtues must be cultivated, such as-speaking truth, obedience to parents and all in lawful authority, honesty, justice, forbearance, generosity, gentleness, kindness, fidelity to promises, courteousness, habits of attention, docility, disinterestedness, kindness to inferior animals, pity for the lame, and the distressed, and the weak in intellect; and, in general, doing to others as we would wish to be done to.

Such evil propensities must be subdued, and moral habits formed, not by mere teaching or telling, but by training. We cannot lecture a child into good manners, or change habits of any kind by the longest speech. The physical, intellectual, or moral habit is only changed by a succession, or rather by a repetition of doings. Obedience-instant obedience, ought to be the daily and hourly practical lesson in every department. As a general principle, whatever a child refuses or neglects to do, he ought to be made to do, and this is best accomplished by the trainer or parent calmly, yet firmly, ordering the child to do the thing under his own immediate superintendence.

A child may be clumsy in his manners or disorderly in his habits. For example, if instead of hanging up his cap on the proper nail or peg, he throws it on the floor-lift it who may -then cause the boy to lift it himself and to place it calmly

on the peg. See that he does this properly and instantly, on receiving the command, and repeat the practical lesson until he acquires the habit of doing so of himself.

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If a child comes to school with dirty hands, should the master say to the child, 'It is wrong to come to school so; you must wash them properly before you come here,'—this would be teaching. To make the inquiry, audibly, in the hearing of all, How ought children to come to school?Ought their hands to be dirty or clean?'* at the same time holding up the dirty hand, and comparing it with the clean hand of another child—also causing him to wash his hand,is training. The instruction or teaching may, or may not, be attended to; but the intellectual perception brought out by the question, comparison of the clean hand with the dirty one, along with the actual washing of it, and the sympathy of companionship, never fails, in any case, to produce the habit of cleanliness.

A child may be told to make a bow on entering or leaving a room, and every plan of making it gracefully may have been fully laid before him; but, without training, he will make a pitiful exhibition on attempting his first obeisance. It is equally the same in carving a fowl, no teaching or lecturing will suffice without training or doing.

A person destined for a public speaker may have read much, and been taught much-he may know most critically all the rules of elocution; but he will make a poor figure, unless he has applied himself practically to the art; until, in fact, he has been trained to public speaking.

It is recorded of Dean Swift, that he had often been teaching or telling his servant in vain to close the library door, when she left the room. One day she entered her master's study, and requested permission of him that she might go to the marriage of a friend, a few miles into the country, which was granted. The door, as usual, was left open: annoyed at this, * Elliptically