As clay in the hands of the potter, so is the mind of the pupil in the hands of the teacher; and the silent, expectant children, as they look toward their instructor in the school-room, seem to say, "You can make us what you will." The teacher is the cen tre around which all the intellectual and moral interests of the pupil revolve. His is the controlling mind—the inspiring mind— the moulding mind. He must feel this fact, and move among his pupils as a living, energizing spirit. If he would awaken, in the undeveloped minds about him, an interest in study, he must himself be inflamed with intensest enthusiasm in the pursuit of

knowledge. Enthusiasm is a living, burning ardor, which warms into life and activity all the powers of thought, and, as a live coal when brought into contact with the cold, dead cinders, imparts its heat and glowing properties to them, so enthusiasm in the teacher kindles in the soul of the pupil an ardent zeal for knowledge.

Minds there are which need not such a stimulus-in which the passing breeze seems to fan into untiring activity energies of thought, apparently slumbering only until the time of their awaking arrives. Franklin needed no teacher to arouse to activity that powerful genius which guided him so successfully through the hitherto untraversed fields of science. Edmund Stowe only needed "to know the twenty-four letters of the alphabet," in order to learn everything. The silent rock, torn from its bed in the quarry, touched the coiled spring of inquiry in the mind of Hugh Miller, and he perused the history of the world there recorded with an ardor which literally consumed him.

But this great man was not wholly free from obligation to his early teachers, for the task and zeal with which he devoted himself to the pursuit of his favorite science. His Uncle Alexander was an enthusiastic admirer and student of nature-knowing more of living nature than many professors of Natural History; and from him he received his first lessons on rocks, tides, trees, ferns, shell-fish, and insects. While within the school-room he received no impulse to thought and acquired no fondness for his studies, the lessons he received out of school-because they were taught by a teacher awake to his theme and intensely interested in his intellectual pursuits-left their impress upon his mind, and kindled within him that ardor which we see glowing in every page he has written, and which distinguished him in all his researches, whether in Geology or Theology.

In the example just referred to, we have a forceful illustration of the truth of my remark, that enthusiasm in the teacher is necessary to the enkindling of enthusiasm in the pupil. Here is the starting point. When the teacher possesses this qualification for his profession, there will not be wanting to him means and expedients to awake a correspondent ardor in the mind of the pupil. Indeed, the brightness of the teacher's eye, as it sparkles with gems of living thought, clearly and interestingly expressed, will rivet the pupil's attention, and make him long to be the rich pos

sessor of such intellectual treasures. There is an animation in. the manner and eloquence in the expression of the teacher who is inspired with his theme, which can not fail to attract the pupil to him, and to awaken all the dormant energies of his intellectual being. While, on the other hand, the sluggish, uninterested schoolmaster, who is not familiar with the branches he professes to teach, and who sees no excellency or worth in scientific truth, and no advantage in knowledge, will signally fail in awakening thought in others, and in developing mind. To such persons I can only say, the means I would suggest for exciting an interest in study are not for you to employ,-you can not appreciate them, and, therefore, have mistaken your profession.

Have you never observed what a new interest was imparted to certain subjects of inquiry by the enthusiasm of one whose whole soul was absorbed in the subject, and whose conversation abounded in interesting facts which his own researches had accumulated? Have you not often felt much of the same ardor kindling in your breast, when you thus incidentally came in contact with an earnest student of any particular branch of science? I shall never forget the influence upon my taste for geological science exerted by an ardent student of Geology, who spent a few days at the home of my youth. In his geological rambles, I accompanied him. A new field of science and of fact was spread out before me. Every rock in the vicinity was examined-its language explained, and its history told. Every ravine was explored; the outcropping strata were made to tell their order of superposition; and the pebbles and sand beneath my feet became eloquent, as they told of their watery birth and distant travel. And after his departure, I was busy with my hammer, making researches in this new world of thought and wonders; and, when in other localities, I neglected not to take a look at my new acquaintances, the rocks, and to hold such converse with them as my limited knowledge enabled me to do.

In the practical application of the truth I have endeavored to illustrate and enforce, I will suppose that the teacher has before him a class of primary scholars. It is evident, from what I have said, that his first, great duty is to awaken in their minds an interest in the studies taught in such schools. How is he to do this? By adapting himself to the mental capacity, taste, and

judgment of the child, and by gradually leading him, step by step, into the truths of science, until the mind, thus expanded and strengthened, shall be able to grasp its deeper mysteries and higher developments.

In the imparting of the first principles of any science in an intelligible and interesting manner, lies the secret of success in teaching its deeper mysteries. And this fact is of vital importance to one who would take the child from the wild, unrestrained walks of sportive infancy, into the region of thought and study. As he has always been surrounded by the interesting in nature, so the teacher must strew his new pathway with everything attractive and profitable. Primary books, many of them excellent, have been prepared for the use of pupils in this department, and may be used, if used with judgment, to great advantage. Without familiar illustration, however, and much oral instruction, no. book will answer the purpose. And it must be so used that no pupil will look upon his lesson as a task. Let the book be regarded only as an aid, while the teacher, all alive with interest in the subject of the lesson, imparts such a glowing attractiveness to the principles and facts of the science, that the child's inquisitiveness will be thoroughly awakened and a mental restlessness produced, which can only be allayed by a clear understanding of the subject.

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To this end the teacher must qualify himself by study, that he be able to adapt himself to the understanding of his scholars. There can be no greater or more fatal mistake than to suppose that because the teacher knows more than the pupil, he does not need to prepare himself specially for giving instruction. It is no easy task to talk to children in an interesting and profitable manBut few excel in this art, and too few are-for this very reason―good teachers in the primary department. The difficulty of giving instruction properly, arises from the fact that it consists not merely in communicating the facts of science; but also in teaching the pupil how to use the facts communicated as food for thought, and how to accumulate knowledge by his own effortsthat is, simply, how to learn. It is not the communication of facts that develops mind; but the exercise of the mental powers of the pupil. All our teaching should therefore be subordinate

to the great end of making the pupil think and act intellectually for himself.

As the study of Geography is introduced in every primary school embracing children from seven to ten years of age, it is of the highest importance that the method adopted in teaching it be truly philosophical. Since all knowledge of the external world is communicated to the mind through the senses, and the teacher should be careful to make correct impressions with reference to the physical facts he is about to communicate, he ought to give his first lessons in Geography without a book and with globe in hand. The first question usually found in primary geographies is, "What is geography?" Before the answer is learned from the book, let the teacher instruct his class in the meaning of the term, and, by referring to the globe, show that the world is round -that its surface is divided into land and water-that the object of geography is to describe this surface-that it tells us of all that is interesting about the different divisions of the land, and the rivers, the lakes, the seas, the oceans, and other divisions of water -that it speaks of the great nations of the world, the manners and customs of the people, the cities and their commerce, and what every country produces.

By familiar illustrations, which my limits will not permit me here to introduce, the teacher can make the definitions very plain and simple to the youngest pupil. He must, however, be very careful to present but one thing at a time to his class. Rapid progress will never be made by committing a page or two of definitions, embracing twenty or thirty different objects, and reciting them in the hot haste of a hurried recitation. This is the great error so prevalent in schools, in the study of Geography, and is the chief cause of its unpopularity among the pupils. Let the first lessons embrace but few topics, and let each one be so clearly illustrated by the use of globes, maps, and pictorial representations of mountains, lakes, seas, gulfs, and rivers, that these ideas may be accurately and indellibly impressed on the mind. All this should be done before the pupil is permitted to use a textbook; and each recitation should be conducted in such a lively, animated manner-the teacher interspersing his instructions with interesting illustrative remarks, drawn from history and daily