making of original demonstrations. Such theorems as those appended to the successive books of the Messrs. Chambers' Euclid, will soon become practicable to him; and in proving them the process of self-development will be not intellectual only, but

moral.

To continue much further these suggestions would be to write a detailed treatise on education, which we do not purpose. The foregoing outlines of plans for exercising the perceptions in early childhood, for conducting object-lessons, for teaching drawing and geometry, must be considered as roughly-sketched illustrations of the method dictated by the general principles previously specified. We believe that on examination they will be found not only to progress from the simple to the complex, from the concrete to the abstract, from the empirical to the rational; but to satisfy the further requirements that education shall be a repetition of civilisation in little, that it shall be as much as possible a process of self-evolution, and that it shall be pleasurable. That there should be one type of method capable of satisfying all these conditions, tends alike to verify the conditions, and to prove that type of method the right one. And when we add that this method is the logical outcome of the tendency, characterizing all modern systems of instruction that it is but an adoption in full of the method of nature which they adopt partially-that it displays this complete adoption of the method of nature, not only by conforming to the above principles, but by following the suggestions which the unfolding mind itself gives, facilitating its spontaneous activities, and so aiding the developments which nature is busy withwhen we add this, there seems abundant reason to conclude, that the mode of procedure above exemplified, closely approxi mates to the true one.

A few paragraphs must be appended in further inculcation of the two general principles, alike the most important and the least attended to: we mean the principle that throughout youth, as in early childhood and in maturity, the process shall be one of self-instruction; and the obverse principle, that the mental action induced by this process shall be throughout intrinsically grateful. If progression from simple to complex, and from concrete to abstract, be considered the essential requirements as dictated by abstract psychology, then do these requirements that knowledge shall be self-mastered, and pleasurably mastered, become the tests by which we may judge whether the dictates of abstract psychology are being fulfilled. If the first embody the leading generalizations of the science of mental growth, the last are the chief canons of the art of fostering mental growth. For mani

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festly if the steps in our curriculum are so arranged that they can be successively ascended by the pupil himself with little or no help, they must correspond with the stages of evolution in his faculties; and manifestly if the successive achievements of these steps are intrinsically gratifying to him, it follows that they require no more than a normal exercise of his powers.

But the making education a process of self-evolution has other advantages than this of keeping our lessons in the right order. In the first place, it guarantees a vividness and permanency of impression which the usual methods can never produce. Any piece of knowledge which the pupil has himself acquired, any problem which he has himself solved, becomes by virtue of the conquest much more thoroughly his than it could else be. The preliminary activity of mind which his success implies, the concentration of thought necessary to it, and the excitement consequent on his triumph, conspire to register all the facts in his memory in a way that no mere information heard from a teacher, or read in a school-book, can be registered. Even if he fails, the tension to which his faculties have been wound up insures his remembrance of the solution when given to him, better than half a dozen repetitions would. Observe again, that this discipline necessitates a continuous organization of the knowledge he acquires. It is in the very nature of facts and inferences, assimilated in this normal manner, that they successively become the premisses of further conclusions, the means of solving still higher questions. The solution of yesterday's problem helps the pupil in mastering to-day's. Thus the knowledge is turned into faculty as soon as it is taken in, and forthwith aids in the general function of thinking,-does not lie merely written in the pages of an internal library, as when rotelearnt. Mark further, the importance of the moral culture which this constant self-help involves. Courage in attacking difficulties, patient concentration of the attention, perseverance through failures, these are characteristics which after-life specially requires; and these are characteristics which this system. of making the mind work for its food specially produces. That it is thoroughly practicable to carry out instruction after this fashion we can ourselves testify; having been in youth thus led to successively solve the comparatively complex problems of Perspective. And that leading teachers have been gradually tending in this direction is indicated alike in the saying of Fellenberg, that "the individual, independent activity of the pupil is of much greater importance than the ordinary busy officiousness of many who assume the office of educators;" in the opinion of Horace Mann, that "unfortunately education amongst us at present consists too much in telling, not in training," and in

the remark of M. Marcel, that "what the learner discovers by mental exertion is better known than what is told to him."

Similarly with the co-relative requirement, that the method of culture pursued shall be one productive of an intrinsically happy activity, an activity not happy in virtue of extrinsic rewards to be obtained, but in virtue of its own healthfulness. Conformity to this requirement not only guards us against thwarting the normal process of evolution, but incidentally secures positive benefits of importance. Unless we are to return to an ascetic morality, the maintenance of youthful happiness must be considered as in itself a worthy aim. Not to dwell upon this, however, we go on to remark that a pleasurable state of feeling is far more favourable to intellectual action than one of indifference or disgust. Every one knows that things read, heard, or seen with interest, are better remembered than those read, heard, or seen with apathy. In the one case the faculties appealed to are actively occupied with the subject presented; in the other they are inactively occupied with it; and the attention is continually drawn away after more attractive thoughts. Hence the impressions are respectively strong and weak. Moreover, the intellectual listlessness which a pupil's lack of interest in any study involves, is further complicated by his anxiety, by his fear of consequences, which distract his attention, and increase the difficulty he finds in bringing his faculties to bear upon these facts that are repugnant to them. Clearly, therefore, the efficiency of any intellectual action will, other things equal, be proportionate to the gratification with which it is performed. It should be considered also, that important moral consequences depend upon the habitual pleasure or pain which daily lessons produce. No one can compare the faces and manners of two boys-the one made happy by mastering interesting subjects, and the other made miserable by disgust with his studies, by consequent failure, by cold looks, by threats, by punishment-without seeing that the disposition of the one is being benefited, and that of the other greatly injured. Whoever has marked the effect of intellectual success upon the mind, and the power of the mind over the body, will see that in the one case both temper and health are favourably affected; whilst in the other there is danger of permanent moroseness, of permanent timidity, and even of permanent constitutional depression. To all which considerations we must add the further one, that the relationship between teachers and their pupils is, other things equal, rendered friendly and influential, or antagonistic and powerless, according as the system of culture produces happiness or misery. Human beings are at the mercy of their associated ideas. A daily minister of pain cannot fail to be regarded with a secret dislike; and if he

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causes no emotions but painful ones will inevitably be hated. Conversely, he who constantly aids children to their ends, hourly provides them with the satisfactions of conquest, hourly encourages them through their difficulties and sympathizes in their successes, cannot fail to be liked; nay, if his behaviour is consistent throughout, must be loved. And when we remember how efficient and benign is the control of a master who is felt to be a friend, when compared with the control of one who is looked upon with aversion, or at best indifference, we may infer that the indirect advantages of conducting education on the happiness principle do not fall far short of the direct ones. To all who question the possibility of acting out the system here advocated, we reply as before, that not only does theory point to it, but experience commends it. To the many verdicts of distinguished teachers who since Pestalozzi's time have testified this, may be here added that of Professor Pillans, who asserts that, "where young people are taught as they ought to be they are quite as happy in school as at play seldom less delighted, nay, often more, with the well-directed exercise of their mental energies, than with that of their muscular powers."

As suggesting a final reason for making education a process of self-instruction, and by consequence a process of pleasurable instruction, we may advert to the fact that, in proportion as it is made so, is there a probability that education will not cease when school-days end. As long as the acquisition of knowledge is rendered habitually repugnant, so long will there be a prevailing tendency to discontinue it when free from the coercion of parents and masters. And when the acquisition of knowledge has been rendered habitually gratifying, then will there be as prevailing a tendency to continue, without superintendence, that same self-culture previously carried on under superintendence. These results are inevitable. Whilst the laws of mental association remain true, whilst men dislike the things and places that suggest painful recollections, and delight in those which call to mind bygone pleasures,-painful lessons will make knowledge repulsive, and pleasurable lessons will make it attractive. The men to whom in boyhood information came in dreary tasks along with threats of punishment, and who were never led into habits of independent inquiry, are unlikely to be students in after years; whilst those to whom it came in the natural forms, at the proper times, and who remember its facts as not only interesting in themselves, but as the occasions of a long series of gratifying successes, are likely to continue through life that self-instruction commenced in youth.

ART. VI.-1. The Stones of Venice. Vol. II. The Sea Stories. By JOHN RUSKIN. London, 1853.

2. The Stones of Venice. Vol. III. The Fall. By JOHN RUSKIN. London, 1853.

OUR Railway Stations are, for the most part, curious and not uninstructive spectacles. They constitute the one field which has been opened, of late years, for the display of some originality of architectural and decorative resource. Our new streets, clubhouses, palaces, and bridges, are naturally not unlike other edifices of the same kind which have preceded them; but in Railway Stations there arose a new necessity, and we had a right to expect from them a new result. The expectation has been only partially disappointed. All Railway travellers who trouble themselves with "trifles" of this kind will agree with us when we declare, that, as a general rule, whenever artistic effect has been attempted in the places in question, the result has been a display of almost hopeless imbecility; but, on the other hand, where no such effect has been sought, it has often been obtained. The subject is hardly one that would have called for attention, had it not been for the vast sums which have been, and are still being, expended to no purpose in the world, but that of declaring to the world our national incapacity for doing anything but make ourselves ridiculous when we attempt to be artistical. We can be artistical if we do not try too hard, as the Crystal Palace, London Bridge, the unfinished and unnoticed Record Office near Fetter Lane, and some few other recent works may prove; but as soon as we set our minds seriously upon some development of the "sublime and beautiful," we become Dogberrys upon a disastrous scale, and insist upon proclaiming our inefficiency, in durable brick and mortar, stone, or oak, or iron, or at very least in lath and plaster.

"Variety is charming," is a very good maxim when properly applied, but a very bad one otherwise; and this maxim falsely applied, is the only principle of art of which our Railway architects seem to have been cognizant. A solemn Greek portico, raised, perhaps, at an expense which would have paid for the Bishop of Manchester's cathedral, introduces us to a long iron shed, under which engines are for ever hissing and whistling, luggage trucks for ever rumbling, and innumerable sights and sounds for ever going on, all of a character decidedly unclassic. We are presently whirled of, and by way, perhaps, of a poetical and hyperbolical allusion to the speed of travelling, we find our