of the other universities. The officials of each university are the same as the officials of each college. In other words, the examiners and the professors are the same persons, and the officials of the university examine only those whom they have taught, confer honours by examination only on their own pupils, and test their own work themselves. In other words, there is no real university. There is no body that superintends the colleges. There are only the privileges of a university, not its duties. There is no guarantee against one-sidedness, except the characters of the professors. We should have said that there was no guarantee, for the late Commission attempted to remedy the defect. They appointed in each university three non-professorial examiners, one in classics, one in mathematics and natural philosophy, and one in English literature, mental and moral philosophy. These examiners, however, are examiners along with the professors, they are outnumbered by the professors, and they render no account of their services. In fact, the examination is still in most cases a professorial one, the half of the questions at least is set by them, and there is no method of indicating how far the students have failed in the professorial or in the non-professorial elements of the examination. The fewness of the non-professorial examiners, therefore, and their conjunction with the professors in the work of examination, nullify the arrangement as far as it is meant to be a guarantee to the public.

This, however, is really a small matter compared with some other consequences which result from the existence of four universities in Scotland. The four universities, it is to be remembered, are entirely independent of each other. They may combine, if they like, for any special object, but if three agree, they cannot compel the fourth. The result of this has generally been, that there has been no rivalry in adopting improvements, but rather a rivalry, if it can be so called, in withstanding them. Thus, for instance, if Edinburgh university were to propose an entrance examination for students, it could be thwarted at once by the other three refusing to adopt it, or by adopting it nominally. The Edinburgh university, we shall suppose, examines strictly. Some students are rejected. What do they do? They pass over to St Andrews, and it is likely that they will be gladly received there.

So with regard to degrees. Edinburgh University may set up one standard, Glasgow another, Aberdeen a third, and St Andrews a fourth. A student who might get his degree at St Andrews might be rejected at Edinburgh; a student who

gets it at Edinburgh might be rejected at Aberdeen. The public know nothing of what is implied by success in attaining a degree. And during the short time in which calendars of the universities have been published, this has become evident. The Edinburgh University resolved to set a high standard for honours in classics, and the consequence was that some years there was no candidate at all, and, altogether, there have been but one or two successful. The Aberdeen University, on the other hand, was more moderate in its demands, and accordingly a greater number of students have carried off the honours. But honours in the one university, it thus appears, mean something different from what they mean in the other.

Now if there was only one university in Scotland, an end would be put to all this. The professors would no longer be examiners of their own students, and they would no longer have a pecuniary interest in passing or rejecting them. But the students would be examined by men of competent attainments, to whom they would be for the most part unknown, and who would have no selfish interest in making their decisions. The work and teaching powers of the professors would also be tested; and a generous rivalry would take place between the four colleges as to which should carry off most honours. Each professor would thus be led to take an interest in the work and success of the others, and in the prosperity of the whole college. Such an arrange ment would also facilitate the establishment of other colleges, as they might be affiliated with the one university; and all this could be done without much extra expense. At present the government pays for twelve local examiners for the Arts Faculty alone. The half of that number would be quite sufficient for the work to be done, if there were but one university. They would indeed have more to do than the local examiners now have, but they would and should be better paid. Indeed, they should be much better paid, since it would be well if they were permanently connected with the university, and made independent of other work.

There are other important advantages that would result from the combination of the four Scottish universities into one. We notice only one of these. The theological difficulty might be solved. Examiners in theology might be appointed from among the most eminent theologians irrespective of their denomination, and the examinations for degrees in theology would thus be willingly undergone by students from all the Divinity Halls in Scotland.

HERE is no one who has had much to do with the education of children, but must know the very great importance of having the command of their attention. In fact, everything depends upon this. Without it, even the most shining abilities will not insure success; while with it the most ordinary will not fail to appear respectable. It is not to be wondered at, then, that various attempts have been made, and schemes devised, for overcoming that inattention which many believe to be natural to children, but which we are of opinion is more frequently to be traced to defective training. Hence ingenious attempts are made to render learning palatable to children, by mixing it up in various ways with pleasures or amusements. Rewards in some cases, punishments in others, are likewise resorted to for the like end. Each of these may be proper and necessary in particular cases, or under special circumstances; but at best they are only exceptional, and ought not, as they generally are, to be acted upon as the rule.

Attention, like every other power or faculty of the human mind, is subject to laws, and we can direct or control it only by the observance of them, for, as Bacon has well said, "Nature is commanded by obeying her." Indeed, this is only one of the many instances that might be adduced to prove that a correct system of education must of necessity be based upon a knowledge of the laws that regulate the operations and the growth of the various human faculties.

It is generally allowed by philosophers, that

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attention is the most important of all our mental powers. It "constitutes," says Sir W. Hamilton, 'the better half of all intellectual power;" and Sir Isaac Newton, when complimented upon his great discoveries, modestly remarked, "that if he had made any improvements in those sciences, it was owing more to patient attention than to any other talent." "The most important intellectual habit I know of," says Archer Butler, "is the habit of attending exclusively to the matter in hand." "It is commonly said that genius cannot be infused by education; yet this power of concentrated attention, which belongs as a part of his gift to every great discoverer, is unquestionably capable of almost indefinite augmentation by resolute practice." "This habit of exclusive attention I believe to be attainable in such a manner as to act altogether irrespectively of the immediate subject of attention, to fit equally to every occasion for which it is demanded."

Two

Attention, then, is the power of fixing the mind intently upon some particular object of sense or thought, so as to exclude for the time all other objects that solicit its notice. The senses may exist in perfection, and impressions may be made upon them, yet if the attention is otherwise occupied, they may be unheeded. persons may be engaged in conversation and the clock strike in their hearing, and they be unconscious of it, from the fact of their attention being otherwise engaged. When, however, on the other hand, the attention is unoccupied, the slightest or most familiar impressions will be perceived. But the most remarkable feature of

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attention, is the power which it possesses of magnifying (if we may so speak) any impression to which it is directed. We all know, for instance, how much clearer and more distinct a sound comes to us when we are listening for it. Frequently too, impressions feeble or insignificant in themselves, are raised to even painful acuteness by having the attention strongly directed to them, and thus often occasion much suffering. A striking illustration of the power of attention, is that of the mind being able to attend at pleasure to one or other of several persons speaking at the same time. 'In a concert of several voices, the voices being of nearly equal intensity regarded merely as organic impressions on the auditory nerve, we select one, and at will we lift it out and disjoin it from the general volume of sound; we shut off the other voices, five, ten, or more, and follow this one alone. When we have done so for a time, we freely cast it off and take up another." (Taylor's World of Mind.)

It is in proportion to the degree of attention that is given to any object of sense or thought that it becomes clear and distinct; and the more clearly and distinctly it is perceived, the better is it understood, and the more deeply is it impressed upon the memory. Every phenomenon of consciousness proper," says Dr Mansel, "must possess in some degree the attributes of clearness and distinctness, without which it can leave no trace in the memory, and cannot be compared with other phenomena of the same class; and in order to this, it is necessary that the phenomenon in question should have been observed with some degree of attention." The greater one's power of attention, the longer and more steadily he is able to fix his attention upon one subject, the better will he be able to follow out the same train of thought, and the greater will be the amount of success attending his labours. "Genius," says Helvetius, "is nothing but a continued attention."

Attention, like every other power or faculty of the human mind, is capable of education, and the great means of education is exercise. This exercise must in each case conform to the nature of the faculty itself, and must be carried on in accordance with the laws by which it is regulated. As regards attention, it is of importance that the object to which it is directed be one in which the mind naturally feels an interest. One cannot be expected to attend to a subject which is uninteresting to him, or of which he does not desire to know something. Hence in training the attention, we must select for its exercise such faculties as have already attained some degree of strength or power,

There is always, with power, a certain degree of pleasure that attends the exercise of any faculty when judiciously directed. Looking at the natural growth of the human faculties, we find that it is those that are concerned with our outer life, those that deal with external objects, that are first called into play, that first come into power. To these, then, ought the attention to be first directed. The objects of sense, the feelings and movements of their own bodies, are those upon which the attention of children ought first to be exercised. As they grow in years, and as their intellectual powers come to be developed, the attention ought by degrees to be turned more and more in that direction, but great care is to be taken, and the danger to be guarded against is the doing of this too soon, before these powers have acquired any degree of strength. Attention is not strictly a special faculty of the human mind, but is a principle common to all of them. It is a particular state of consciousness, and hence it acts "altogether irrespectively of the particular object of attention," and fits "equally to every occasion for which it is demanded." Care ought to be taken in the exercising of the attention to prevent the intrusion of any object that might tend to withdraw it from that particularly in view. This is a frequent source of great mischief, and a source, too, which if not specially looked for, is seldom observed. By means of it desultory habits of thought are introduced, and the mind soon loses the inclination, and even the power of concentrating itself upon anything. Farther, care ought to be taken not to continue the exercise too long, so as to produce exhaustion, and yet sufficiently long to call forth its full power. The time selected ought to be that in which the mind is most vigorous, and the faculties most under the control of the will.

There is one feature of this subject to which we wish particularly to call attention, and which we consider to be of great importance in education. Sir William Hamilton has treated this subject with his usual ability, and to him we are indebted for a clear exposition of that to which we refer. According to him, attention is "consciousness voluntarily applied under its law of limitations to some determinate object." What, then, is this law of limitations under which consciousness or attention acts? Simply this, "That the intension of our knowledge is in the inverse ratio of its extension,"-in other words, "that the greater the number of objects to which our consciousness is simultaneously extended, the smaller is the intensity with which it is able to consider each, and consequently the less vivid and distinct will be

he says,

"should consist of all the syllables which most usually occur in the English language, in regulated order from simple to difficult." "It should contain no reading which the child can either comprehend or readily learn by memory, or repeat by rote." The reason he assigns is, that "while children are thought to be engaged in learning to read, they are often merely exercising their memories;" but this is only another instance of what is so often observed with practical men. Their practice is right, because guided by observation and experience, but they fail whenever they attempt to assign reasons for it. The true reason is, that when the words have meaning we bring another element before consciousness, which in so far distracts the attention from the sound or form. In teaching to read, we have to train the eye to see, the ear to hear, the tongue to utter, and the understanding to comprehend. To the eye, words are composed of letters; to the ear and tongue, of syllables; to the understanding, of ideas. In teaching the eye, then, reduce to letters; the ear and tongue, to syllables; the understanding, to simple ideas. But let this be done separately and one by one, not altogether or through one another.

The same principle might be shewn to be applicable to almost every branch of knowledge. In a work recently published, and entitled, "The Mastery of Languages," by Thomas Prendergast, London, 1864, and which contains a number of valuable suggestions on the learning of languages, we find repeated instances of the same principle carried out. He recommends that the pronunciation of each sentence should first of all be learned by the ear, without the intervention of printed words or characters, which introduce new ideas and sounds. He says, "when the spelling of a word suggests a variety of different sounds uncertainty ensues, and a difficulty is gratuitously created which may be avoided by merely learning the sound unwritten;" we would rather say, that the attention by being concentrated upon one operation, acts so much more vigorously than by being directed on two or more. In fact, it is an instance exactly parallel to that of learning the alphabet already given. English and French people," he says, "having been trained to a very eccentric orthography, should never look into a foreign book printed in the Roman character, until they have gained some facility in speaking the new language with an intelligible pronunciation." "In this way," he continues, "the construction of the sentence being studiously concealed from him," " he does not know which of the new sounds or how many of them belong to

each word, and he can form no idea of the meaning of any one syllable. This ignorance is his safeguard in respect to pronunciation; for if he understood the words he would infallibly employ the peculiar intonation, the accents, the cadences, and the emphasis of his own language, because they have become habitual to him." This is exactly the same principle as we have been advocating, the plea that we have been putting forth on behalf of the spelling book, though not exactly for the same reason. It is ever in learning as in war, the more we divide our foes the more easily do we overcome them. It is exactly the same principle which gives importance and value to the division of labour which is so largely taken advantage of in many of our mechanical operations in the present day. It is found that by limiting the attention and labour of each workman to a small portion only of any complex work, a much greater amount of work will be produced in a given time, than if each one of the same number of workmen were to be employed in carrying out the entire operation. Pin-making is a well known illustration of this fact.

There is another principle of attention to which we may, in conclusion, allude, though of much less consequence than the other, namely, that in changing from one subject to another, the atten tion passes from the one to the other much more readily if the change be slight or gradual, than if it be great or abrupt. In fact, this is but a natural consequence of the other, for if the attention is stronger the longer it is concentrated upon a single object, it follows that its strength is less impaired by passing from one object to another of the same kind, than to one quite different. It passes say from the contemplation of one object of sight to another, more readily and naturally than from an object of sight to one of hearing. "When the human hand or human head," says Mr Babbage, "has been for some time occupied in any kind of work, it cannot instantly change its employment with full effect."-(Economy of Machinery and Manufactures.) It is the same even with different objects of the same sense. ear," says Professor Bain, strongly impressed with the accent and cadence, and permitting itself to be very much engrossed with the different turns of the emphasis and modulation, is by that circumstance rendered more obtuse to the articulate character, or to the meaning of the words."

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(Senses and Intellect.) Hence in teaching the alphabet, we would recommend that those letters that most nearly resemble each other in sound, or employ principally the same vocal organs in pronunciation, be learned together, and in the