seat, while they "go up higher”—“Really you are so short a time in one place that we hardly get acquainted." We do not count this effect one of the good features of our system.

5. The itinerancy tends in some cases to lessen the amount paid for the support of the pastor.

Where the negotiation takes place directly between the minister and the people who desire his services, the question of temporalities belongs legitimately to the discussion; and where the minister, by reason of his acceptability, has a choice of offers, and the people learn the fact, there is a spur to liberality. Among us, the minister may or may not be approached by persons connected with the Church which is looking in his direction. They may deem it equally effectual, and more prudent, to lay their case before the bishop and the elders only; and the matter is determined on grounds other than those of demand on the one side and pecuniary obligation on the other. No chance is given to make a bargain. The people know what ministers must take new appointments, what churches must have new pastors, and what arrangement is natural and probable. They do not always feel that there is need of any special exertion in order to secure the man that they want. And even if there is room for doubt, owing to the desire of other Churches to obtain the candidate, the fact that success lasts only three years at the very longest, cools competition. The large city Churches are aware, too, that they are regarded as prominent and honorable positions, and that many ministers feel the promptings of an ambition, not unworthy of their calling, to show that they are "workmen who need not to be ashamed" anywhere.

6. The itinerancy tempts ministers to study the arts of popularity; and, in order to attain position, to use means which "do not tend to the knowledge or love of God."

It is very natural that the itinerant should now and then think of the future, and ask himself the question, "Where will be my field of labor when my term here expires?" He runs his eyes over the list of Churches which must have new pastors at the next conference, and considers which of them are desirable. If his support in the past has not been adequate to his wants, he is tempted to become anxious, and "troubled about many things." If he is naturally desponding, and sensi

tive, the case is still worse. If he suffers his mind to dwell on the matter, until he lays himself open to the assaults of Satan-if unbelief overcomes faith in God, and jealousy usurps the place of love to the brethren-he begins to ask himself what he shall do to secure the place which he wants. What can he do? Shall he seek to ingratiate himself with the leading laymen? Shall he approach some one of them with whom he is intimate, and ask him to advocate his cause? Shall he speak slightingly of the merits of those who are likely to be his competitors? Our system creates a constant weighing and measuring of the members of the conference; both ministers and people engage in the canvass; and the ministers are often found the severest, the least favorable, in their estimates. Under an influence of which they are not conscious, they sometimes become censorious, and undervalue their brethren. They disseminate among the people of their charge adverse opinions and prejudices, which sour their minds, and increase greatly the difficulties of the appointing power. Thus the friction natural to our system is augmented by the weakness and the sin of those who ought to be wiser and better. Thus they sow thorns for their own feet.

Other temptations are not unknown. A minister who is indolent by nature, and whose piety is not deep enough to furnish driving power sufficient to keep him in motion, may be tempted to take things in an easy way, saying to himself, "I am safe-the Church must find me a place."

On the other hand, an earnest, energetic man, who has never examined thoroughly the moral aspects of the matter, feels the temptation to purchase a sort of success by ways and means which, to say the least, are questionable. He knows that the members of the Methodist Church dote on a crowd. He knows that a man of only moderate abilities, if neither too pious nor too proud, can generally raise the crowd; and that the more light and frivolous the prevailing taste, the more easily the thing is done. Look at the style of the lectures which draw the largest houses. Judged by the criterion of numbers, eloquence, so called, is preferred to instruction, and fun is more popular than fact. The multitudes are apt to run after the humorists whose very faces, in advance of words, provoke a smile. Certain styles of mind, like certain kinds of fish, are

best caught with a fly, and an artificial one at that. Consequently a preacher who thinks that he must fill the house or be pronounced a failure, and is not very scrupulous in regard to the means, being, as we have said, neither too pious nor too proud, is tempted to have recourse to the angler's artificial bait, to cast about him for out-of-the-way subjects, to study small eccentricities in manner or matter, to be superficially original and claborately peculiar. In this way the crowd may be gathered, but what good is done? The flock "look up and are not fed." The unconverted leave the house of God, not smiting their breasts and saying, "God be merciful," but repeating, with noisy merriment, the witticisms which they have heard, or commenting on the eccentricities which have been exhibited. To them, the sermon is not a warning, a voice from the eternal world, awing their souls into silence and solemn thought, but a mere entertainment, which, leaving untouched the conscience and the heart, amuses for the hour.

The itinerancy leads certain minds into temptation in these directions, because the itinerant must make himself felt at once. He who gives way to an unholy ambition is afraid to trust to sound thought and solid strength, for these make no noisy talk in the community, gather no sudden crowd, create no sudden fame. The really intelligent and thoughtful, who love solidity and strength, are not readily drawn from their accustomed paths; and sudden crowds, consequently, must be made up of the frivolous and the impulsive. Soundness and strength may, in the abstract, be best, but the pulpit trifler deems them too slow to suit his purpose, or to meet the requirements of a system which requires all to be done in so short a time. We are aware that these same temptations may occur under other systems as well as our own, and that full-blown specimens of claptrap and charlatanry may be found in the "settled ministry," as well as elsewhere. Still, we deem the temptation one that occurs more readily under a system which demands rapid results. Thus we have set forth what we deem the chief points of friction or of danger incidental to our system. We have tried to put them strongly, rather than diminish them. We purpose in a future article to turn to the other side of the question, and inquire for the advantages of the itinerancy. These are neither few nor small.

ART. VII.-HOW CAN WE TEACH GREEK?

THE Greek language has always formed a leading branch of classical education in this country, as in England and many other Protestant countries of Europe, and still occupies much of the time of students during several years. But what are the results? Is there even a single youth or teacher who feels satisfied with his success? Might it not be expected that, among the thousands who have passed through the regular collegiate course, there would be a considerable number who would read Greek books through life with profit and pleasure, and enrich their conversation and writings with quotations from the old masters of learning and eloquence? But where do we find anything of the kind? Would not a private gentleman be regarded as a prodigy, who should be found an habitual reader of Greek classical authors in their original language? And if any person should quote them, even in the most literary society, would he not be called a pedant by others not ashamed of being unable to understand him? At the same time would it be thought strange or improper, if several persons should be heard speaking French or German, although they might have spent but a few months, or even weeks, with one of our able foreign instructors? With such facts before us as are familiar to us all, may it not be well to inquire whether any improvement can be made in our methods of instruction in Greek? We might include the Latin language in the scope of our inquiries, were it not for certain particulars in which it appears in different aspects.

Some writers have endeavored to show that great advantages are derived by every student of Greek, from the discipline which his mind receives, in the long practice in learning and applying the rules of that language, (which is reputed by many to be the most perfect ever known,) and from the light which it casts upon English etymology, even though he may never open a Greek book in after life. We have not seen taken into account the unfavorable influences operating on the mind of a youth, by the prolonged and repulsive task of applying abstract rules and vexatious exceptions to words which he never hears applied to their chief natural

use in speech, and by being at every step reminded of the instructor's incompetency to teach or to practice in that essential department. The contempt for learning, or at least the erroneous or confused ideas of the objects and uses of education which are naturally imbibed in the course of such a training, may exert deleterious influences on the opinions, character, and life.

But, whatever estimates may be made of the advantages or disadvantages above alluded to, will it not be admitted to be desirable that our youth, after leaving college, should be able and disposed to read Greek books, and to prefer some of the classics, or at least the Greek New Testament, to the novels and romances of the present day, and to the frivolous and injurious amusements which engross the attention of some even of our educated countrymen?

And would it not be an additional advantage if this end were secured in much less time? Suppose, further, that the process were such as to educate the mind by a judicious exercise of its powers, to give the student confidence in his own. intellectual abilities by their successful use, and to render that branch of learning attractive, the associations of the memory with it agreeable, and the prosecution of it continued through life. Suppose once more, that the student would be acquiring a familiar acquaintance with a language now spoken by an interesting people, inhabiting a country of classical renown, resorted to by travelers of taste. Would these not be additional advantages, worthy of attainment?

But can these benefits be obtained? Is it possible to secure even a portion of them? How can our youth be brought to like the study of Greek, so long and so universally proverbial for its repulsive character? Who was ever known to take real pleasure for months and years in the study of Greek paradigms, particles, syntax, or prosody? Who, from any predilection for this, ever objected to the formal burial of Greek grammars, now annually practiced by graduating classes in our colleges that severe satire on a branch of study which should be pleasing, and of essential use through life?

But let us inquire whether this branch of education has ever been pursued in a different way, and with different results. That language was almost entirely unknown in Europe during