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These ancestral trammels have all been shaken off, wherever the acquisition of money is concerned. The mechanical processes of his forefathers have no charm for the modern manufacturer, when he can attain his object more economically by a recent improvement. Neither does he go blindfold upon a mere chance,--seldom even upon a sagacious conjecture,--unless there be some good grounds for its formation. In every successive stage of his operations, he is awake to the slightest appearance of defect; and he hesitates not a moment in abandoning a lesser good for a greater, whenever he perceives it. He husbands time;--he husbands expense;--he husbands supervision and risk. Every step with him is a step in advance;--every operation has a design;--every movement has a meaning;--and he makes all unite for the attainment of one common object. Can we doubt that, in like manner, the most rigid economy of time and labour ought to be adopted in the art of teaching? When the end has once been distinctly defined, it ought steadily to be kept in view; and no exercise should be prescribed which does not contribute to its attainment. There should be no bustling about nothing; no busy idleness; no fighting against time; no unnecessary labour, nor useless exhaustion of the pupil's energies. The time of youth is so precious, and there is so much to be done during it, that economy here is perhaps of more importance than in any thing else. Every book or exercise, therefore, which has not a palpable tendency to forward the great object designed by education, should by the teacher be at once given up.

It has been by attention to these, and similar rules, that all the secular arts have advanced to their present state; and the art of teaching must be perfected by similar means. There ought therefore to be a distinct object in view on the part of the teacher,--a specific end which he is to endeavour to arrive at in his intercourse with his pupil. For the attainment of this end, he must employ the best and the surest means that are in his power; for the same purpose, he ought honestly and fairly to apply the successive discoveries of science as they occur; and should never allow himself to abandon an exercise founded upon ascertained principles, merely because he at first finds difficulty in putting it in operation.

The application of the foregoing remarks to our present purpose, is a matter of great practical importance. It has indeed been owing chiefly to their having been hitherto overlooked, that education has been left in the backward state in which we at present find it.

But if, as we have seen, education must bend to the same rigid discipline to which the other sciences have had to submit,--and if teaching can be improved only by following the laws which have determined the success of the other arts--the question naturally arises, "What is to be done now for education?"--"Where are we to begin?"--"How are we to proceed?"--"In what manner are the principles of the science to be investigated, so that they shall most extensively promote the success of the art? and how is the art to be cultivated, so that it may, to the fullest extent, be benefited by the science?" To these enquiries we shall in the present chapter direct our attention.

In the science of Botany, Zoology, Anatomy, Physiology, and almost all the others, the same plan has been adopted with invariable success. The subject, whatever it be, is looked upon as a whole, and then separated into its great divisions;--these again, are subdivided into classes; and these again, into orders, genera, species, and varieties, by which means each minute part can be examined by itself in connection with the whole; the memory and the judgment are assisted in their references and application; and order reigns through the whole subject, which otherwise would have been involved in inextricable confusion.

In prosecuting our investigations into the science of education, therefore, our business is to study Nature in all the educational processes in which we find her occupied, and of which we shall find there are many;--to observe and collect facts;--to detect principles, and to discover the means employed in carrying them out, and the modes of their working;--to trace effects back to their causes, and then again to follow the effects through their various ramifications, to some ultimate end. These are the things which it is the business of the Educationist to investigate, and to record for the benefit of the teacher and his art.

ON THE GREAT DESIGN OF NATURE'S TEACHING, AND THE METHODS SHE EMPLOYS IN CARRYING IT ON.

We have seen in the former chapters, that the most probable method of succeeding in any difficult undertaking is to learn from Nature, and to endeavour to imitate her. The first great question with the Educationist then should be, "Does Nature ever teach?" If he can find her so employed, and if he be really willing to learn, he may rest assured, that by carefully studying her operations, he will be able to detect something in the ends which she aims at, and the methods which she adopts for attaining these ends, that will lead him to the selection of similar means, and crown him ultimately with similar success.

The information which we are to derive from the Academy of Nature, is to be found chiefly in those instances where she is least interfered with by the operations of others. In these we shall endeavour to follow her; and, by classifying her several processes, and investigating each of them in its order, we shall assuredly be able to arrive at some first principles, to guide us in imitating the modes of her working, and which will enable us, in some measure, to share in her success.

When we take a comprehensive view of the educational processes of Nature, we find them arranging themselves under four great divisions, blending into each other, no doubt, like the kingdoms of Nature and the colours of the rainbow, but still perfectly distinct in their great characteristics.

Here then we have the highway of education, marked off, and walled in by Nature herself. That these four great departments in her educational process will be much better defined, and their parts better understood, when experience has given more ample opportunities for their observation, cannot be doubted; and it is not improbable, that future investigations will suggest a different arrangement of heads, and a different modification of their parts also; but still, the great outline of the whole, we think, is so distinctly marked, that, so far as they go, there can be little mistake; and by following them, we are most likely to obtain a large amount of those benefits which education is intended to secure.--To excel Nature is impossible; but by endeavouring to imitate her, we may at least approach nearer to her perfections.

It is not enough, however, for us to perceive the great outlines of Nature's operations in education; we must endeavour to follow her into the details, and investigate the means which she employs for carrying them into practical effect. We shall therefore take up the several departments above enumerated in their order, and endeavour to trace the laws which regulate her operations in each, for the purpose of assisting the teacher in his attempts to imitate them.

It is also here worthy of remark, that the cultivation of the powers of her pupil's mind, as a preliminary to their acquiring and applying of knowledge, appears to be a settled arrangement of Nature, and one which must be rigidly followed by the teacher, wherever success is to be hoped for. Analogy, in other departments of Nature's operations, proves its necessity, and points out its wisdom; for she is never premature, and never stimulates her pupils to any work, till they have been properly prepared for accomplishing it. Hence the consistency and importance of commencing the process of education, by expanding and cultivating the powers of the mind, preparatory to the future exertions of the pupil; and hence also the wisdom of requiring no more from the child, than the state of his mental powers at the time are capable of performing. Our object, at present, is to discover the means employed by Nature for accomplishing this preliminary object, that we may, by imitating her plans, obtain the greatest amount of benefit.

As this act of the mind lies at the root of all mental improvement, during every stage of the pupil's education, it becomes a matter of considerable importance, that its nature, and mode of operation, should be thoroughly understood.

Let us for this purpose suppose that a lighted candle is suddenly presented before a young infant. He looks at it; he thinks of it; his mind is employed with the flame of the candle in a manner quite different from what it is upon any thing else in the room. All the other images which enter the eye fail to make an impression upon the mind; but this object which the child looks at,--observes,--does this; and accordingly, while it is passive as to every thing else, the mind is found to be actively engaged with the candle. He not only sees it, but he looks at it. This, and similar "reiterations" of ideas by the mind, frequently repeated by the infant, gradually communicate to it a consciousness of mental power, and enable him more and more easily to wield it. Every such instance of the reiteration of an idea,--of the voluntarily exercise of active thought,--strengthens the powers of the mind, so that he is soon able to look at and follow with his eyes other objects, although they are much less conspicuous than the glare of a candle.

When we examine the matter a little farther in regard to infants, we perceive, that all the little arts used by the mother or the nurse, to "amuse the child," as it is called, are nothing more than means employed to excite this reiteration of ideas by the mind. A toy, for example, is presented to the infant, and his attention is fixed upon it. He is not satisfied with passively seeing the toy, as he sees all the other objects in the room, but he actively looks at it. Nor is this enough; the toy is usually seized, handled, mouthed, and turned; and each movement prompts the mind to active thought,--to reiterate the idea which each of the sensations suggests. These impressions are no doubt rapid, but they are real; and each of them has been reiterated,--actively thought of,--before they could either be received, or remembered; and it is only by these impressions frequently repeated, in which the mind is vigorously and delightfully engaged, that it acquires that activity and strength which we so frequently witness in the young.

These remarks may be thought by some to be exceedingly commonplace and self-evident.--It may be so. If they be admitted, we ask no more.--Our purpose at present is answered, if we have detected a principle in education, by the operation of which the powers of the mind are invariably expanded and strengthened;--an effect which, so far as we yet know, in its absence never takes place. It is by means of this principle alone that Nature accomplishes this important object, both in young and old; but its effects are especially observable in the young, where, her operations not being so much interfered with, we find her producing by its means the most extraordinary effects, and that even during the most imbecile period of her pupil's existence.

In concluding this part of our investigation, we would very briefly remark, that the existence of this principle in connection with the cultivation of the mind, accounts in a very satisfactory manner for the beneficial results which usually accompany the study of languages, mathematics, and some other branches of education similar in their nature.--These objects of study, when once acquired, may never afterwards be used, and will consequently be lost; but in learning them the pupil was compelled to think,--to exercise his own mind on the subjects taught,--to reflect, and to reiterate the ideas communicated to him, till they had been fully mastered. The mental vigour which was at first forced upon the pupil, by these beneficial exercises, remains with him, and is exercised upon other objects, as they are presented to his observation in ordinary life.--The mind in commencing these studies gradually emancipates itself from the mechanical tendencies which an improper system of teaching had previously formed, and now gathers strength daily by this natural mode of exercising its powers. It is the effects of this kind of discipline that constitute the chief element of a cultivated mind. In this principally consists the difference between a man of "liberal education," and others who have been less highly favoured.--His superiority does not lie in his ability to read Latin and Greek,--for these attainments may long ago have been forgotten and lost;--but in the state of his mind, and the superior cultivation of the mental powers.--He possesses a clearness, a vigour, and a grasp of mind above others, which enable him at a glance to comprehend a statement;--to judge of its accuracy;--and, without effort, to arrange and communicate his ideas concerning it. This ability, as we have seen, can be acquired only by active mental exercise, and is not necessarily the result of extensive reading, nor is it always accompanied by extensive knowledge. It is the natural and the necessary product of mental discipline, through which the above described act of "reiteration," like a golden thread, runs from beginning to end. It is the fire of intellect, kindled at first perhaps by classical, and mathematical studies; but which now, collecting force and fuel from every circumstance of life, glows and shines, long after the materials which first excited the flame have disappeared.

If then, as we formerly explained, the arts are to derive benefit from the investigations of science, we are led to the conclusion, that the wisdom of the Teacher will consist in taking advantage of the principle which has been here exhibited. He should not speculate nor theorize, nor go forward inconsiderately in using exercises, the benefits of which are at least questionable; but he ought implicitly to follow Nature in the path which she has thus pointed out to him. One chief object with him should be, the cultivation of the minds of his pupils; and the only method by which he can attain success in doing so has now been stated. He must invent, or procure some exercise, or series of exercises, by which the act of "reiteration" in the minds of his pupils shall be regularly and systematically carried on.--He must induce them to think for themselves, and to exercise the powers of their own minds deliberately and frequently,--in the same manner as we see Nature operating in the mind of a lively and active child. When he can accomplish this, he will, and he must succeed; whereas, if he allow an exercise to be prepared where this act of the mind is absent, he may rest assured that he is deceiving both himself and the child.--The laws of Nature are inflexible; and while she will undoubtedly countenance and reward these who act upon the principles which she has established, she will as certainly leave those who neglect them to eat the "fruit of their own doings."--But the pupil, more than the Teacher is the sufferer. Under the pure discipline of Nature in the infant and the child, learning is not only their business, but their delight; and it is only when her principles are unknown, or violently outraged, that education becomes a burden, and the school-house a prison.

FOOTNOTES:

Note A.

For some time during the early years of childhood Nature is the chief, or the only Teacher; and the contrast between her success at that time, and the success of the parent or teacher who succeeds her, is very remarkable, and deserves consideration.

When we examine this process in the case of infants, we see Nature acting without interference, and therefore with undeviating success. Within a few months after the child has attained some degree of consciousness, we find that Nature, under every disadvantage of body and mind, has succeeded in communicating to the infant an amount of knowledge, which, when examined in detail appears very wonderful.--The child has been taught to know his relations and friends; he has acquired the ability to use his limbs, and muscles, and organs, and the knowledge how to do so in a hundred different ways. He has become familiar with the form, the colour, the texture, and the names of hundreds of articles of dress, of furniture, of food, and of amusement, not only without fatigue, but in the exercise of the purest delight, and with increasing energy. He has begun to contrast objects, and to compare them; and this capacity he evinces by an undeviating accuracy in choosing those things which please him, and in rejecting those things which he dislikes. But above all, the infant, along with all this substantial knowledge, has been taught to understand a language, and even to speak it. The fact of all this having been accomplished by a child of only two or three years of age, is so common, that the mysterious principles which it involves, are too generally overlooked. We thoughtlessly allow them to escape observation, as if they were mere matters of instinct, and were to be ranked with the spider's catching its prey, or the sparrow's building its nest. But the principles which regulate these different operations are perfectly dissimilar. In the case of the spider and the sparrow there is no teaching, and, of course, no learning. Their first web, and their first nest, are as perfect as the last; but in the case of the infant, with only two or three exceptions, there is nothing that he does, and nothing that he knows, which he has not really learned,--acquired by experience under the tuition of Nature, by the actual use of his own mental and physical powers.

That we shall ever be able to equal Nature in this part of her educational process, is not to be expected; but that, by following up the principles which she has developed, and imitating the methods by which she accomplishes her ends, we shall become more and more successful, there can be no doubt. The method, therefore, to be adopted by us is, to examine carefully the principles which she employs with the young, through the several stages of her process, and then, by adopting exercises which embody these principles, to proceed in a course similar to that which she has pointed out.

In prosecuting this plan, then, our object must be, first, to examine generally the various means employed by Nature, in the acquisition of knowledge by the young,--and then to attend more in detail to the mode by which she applies the principles involved in each.

These general means appear to consist of four distinct principles, which, for want of better definitions, we shall denominate "Reiteration," "Individuation, or Abstraction," "Grouping, or Association," and "Classification, or Analysing."

FOOTNOTES:

Note A.

Now, that it was the want of this mental reiteration which was the cause, and the only cause, why this very usual means of acquiring knowledge failed to communicate it, may be proved we think by a very simple experiment. For if we shall suppose that the child who was obtaining no knowledge by means of the various curiosities around him, had been asked at the time a question respecting any of them,--a stuffed dog, for example,--his attention would have been arrested, and his mind would have been roused to active thought. The words, "What is that?" from his teacher, or companion, would have made him look at it, and reiterate the ideas of its form and colour, so far as to enable him to give an answer. And if he does so, it will be found afterwards, on leaving the place, that although he might have remained unconscious of the presence of all the other objects in the museum, he will remember the stuffed dog, merely because, by the question, the idea it suggested was taken up, and reiterated by the mind; while the sensations caused by all the rest, were allowed to pass away.

There is another circumstance of daily occurrence, which adds to the evidence that it is this principle which we have called "reiteration," which forms the chief, if not the only avenue, by which ideas find access to the mind; and it is this:--That when at any time we bring to recollection some former circumstance of life, however remote, or when we recall any part of our former knowledge or experience, it comes up to the mind, accompanied with the perfect consciousness, that, at the time we are thinking of, this act of reiteration had taken place upon it; that we most assuredly have thought of it before. We are not more certain that it occupies our thoughts now, than we are that it did so when it occurred;--that the operation of which we are at present speaking, did actually then take place; and that it was by our doing so then, that it is remembered now. This circumstance, when duly considered, is of itself, we think, a sufficient proof, that no part of our knowledge,--not a single idea,--can be acquired, or retained on the memory by any other process, than by this act of reiteration.

Knowledge is received by the use of words in two ways,--either by oral speech, or by written language; but in both cases, the reception of the ideas is still governed by reiteration. We shall endeavour to examine the operation in both cases.

That this is a correct exhibition of the principle, and a legitimate inference from the phenomena, may be still farther proved by an experiment similar to one formerly recommended. Let the teacher, in the middle of a story, ask some of the inattentive pupils a question respecting some of the persons or things he is speaking about, and force the reiteration of that part of the narrative in the child's mind by getting an answer, and it will be found at the close, that although he may remember nothing else of all that he heard, yet he will most perfectly remember that part about which he was questioned, and respecting which he returned an answer.

The same thing may be ascertained by our own experience, in hearing a lecture or sermon, or even in conversation with a friend. In these cases, as long as our attention is kept up,--that is, as long as we continue to reiterate the ideas that we hear,--we may remember them; but when our minds flag, or wander; in other words, when we cease to reiterate the ideas of the speaker, the sounds enter our ear, but the matter is gone. All that has been said during that period of inattention has been lost; it never has formed, and never can form, part of our knowledge.

Thus we see, that in the act of hearing oral communications, the principle of reiteration of the ideas is obviously necessary for the acquiring of knowledge; and we shall now shew, that it is equally necessary in the act of reading.

FOOTNOTES:

Note B.

Note C.

Note D.

Nature, as we have seen, has rendered it imperative that the act of reiteration should be performed upon every idea before it can have an entrance into the mind, or be retained by the memory; but as the individual cannot reiterate, or think over, all the ideas suggested to him by the innumerable objects of sensation with which he is surrounded, it next becomes a matter of importance to ascertain the means employed by Nature for enabling her pupils to receive and retain the greatest number of ideas, so that they shall ever afterwards remain at the command of the will. This she accomplishes by the operation of the three other principles to which we have adverted; namely, "Individuation," or "Abstraction," "Grouping," or "Association," and "Classification," or "Analysis."--We shall in this chapter attend to the principle of "Individuation," and endeavour to trace its nature and uses in the acquisition of knowledge by the young.

The first thing in an infant that will be remarked by a close observer of Nature is, that while adding to its knowledge by observation, it always confines its attention to one thing at a time, till it has examined it. Before the period when this principle becomes conspicuous in an infant, the eye, and the other senses are in a great measure inactive, so far as the mind is concerned; and the first indication of the senses really ministering to the mind is the eye chusing an object, and the infant examining that object by itself, without allowing its attention to be distracted by any thing else.

This operation takes place as soon as an infant is capable of observation. It fixes its eye upon an object, generally one that is new to it, and it continues to look upon it till it has collected all the information that this object can give, or which the limited capacity of the infant will enable it to receive. Hence with stationary objects this information is soon acquired; but with moveable objects, or toys, or things which are capable of varying, or multiplying the ideas received by the child, the look is more intense, and the attention is sustained without fatigue for a longer time. Till this information has been received, the child continues to look on; and if the object be removed, the eye still follows it with interest, and gives it up at last with reluctance. That by this concentration of its mind upon one object, the infant is adding to its knowledge, appears evident from the fact, that objects which have already communicated their stock of information, and have become familiar, are less heeded than those that are new or uncommon. Every new thing excites the curiosity of the child, who is not content till that curiosity be gratified. This has been called "the love of novelty;"--but it is not the love of novelty in the very questionable sense in which many understand that term. On the contrary, it is obviously a wise provision of Nature, suited to the capacity and circumstances of children, which is to be taken advantage of, for conveying such crumbs and morsels of knowledge as their limited powers are able to receive; and which should never be abused, by presenting to them an unceasing whirl of names and objects,--a process which fatigues the mind, and leaves them without any specific information. It is the same principle, and is to be considered in the same light, as that which induces the philosopher to confine himself to the investigation of one phenomenon till he understands it. The information which the child is capable of receiving from each of the impressions then made is no doubt small; but it is still information--knowledge.--This is what he is seeking; and, at this stage of his progress, it is only acquired by the concentration of the powers of the mind upon one thing at a time.

The effect of this principle in the infant is worthy of remark.--While the pupil remains under the teaching of Nature, there is no confusion,--no hurry,--no failure. The tasks which she prescribes for him are never oppressive, and are constantly performed with ease and with pleasure.--Although there be no selection made by the parent or teacher for the child to exercise his faculties upon, yet he instinctively selects for himself, without hesitation, and without mistake. All the objects in a room or in a landscape are before him: yet he is never oppressed by their number, nor bewildered by their variety.--His mind is always at ease.--He chooses for himself; but he never selects more for his special observation at one time than he can conveniently attend to. When the objects are new, his attention is restricted to one till it be known; and then, but not till then, as we shall immediately see, he is able, and delights to employ himself in grouping it with others.

In early infancy this attention to one object is protracted and slow, till he gradually acquires sufficient energy of mind by practice.--Every one must have observed how slowly the eye of an infant of two or three months old moves after an object, in comparison with one of ten.--But even in the latter case, when the glance is lively and rapid, the same principle of individuation continues to operate. The information from an unknown object must still be received alone, and without distraction, although by that time the child is capable of receiving it more quickly. He is not now satisfied with viewing an object on one side, but he must view it on all sides. He endeavours by various means to acquire every one of the ideas which it is capable of communicating. His new toy is viewed with delight and wonder; and his eye by exercise can now scan in a moment its different parts.--But this is not enough; he has now learned to make use of his other senses, and he employs them also, for the purpose of becoming better acquainted with the object which he is contemplating. His toy is seized, mouthed, handled, turned, looked at on all sides, till all the information it can communicate has been received;--and then only is it cast aside for something else, which is in its turn to add to his stock of knowledge.

The operation of the principle of individuation, is not confined to the infant, but continues to maintain its place during all the after stages of life, whenever any thing new and uncommon is presented as an object of knowledge. Every thing is new to the infant, and therefore this principle is more conspicuous during the early stages of education.--But it is still equally necessary for the child or the youth in similar circumstances; and Nature compels him, as it were, still to concentrate the powers of his mind upon every new object, till he has received and become familiar with the information it is calculated to furnish.--Every one must have observed the intensity with which a child examines an object which he has never seen before, and the anxiety which he evinces to know all about it.--It requires a considerable effort on his own part, and still greater on the part of others, to detach his mind from the object, till it has surrendered the full amount of information which the young enquirer is seeking. The boy with his new drum will attend to nothing else if he can help it, as long as he has any thing to learn concerning it, and the noises it is capable of producing.--And even when he has tired himself with beating it, he is not satisfied till he has explored its contents, to find out the cause which has created the sounds. The girl with her doll, in the same way, will voluntarily think of nothing else, as long as it can provide her with mental exercise; that is, as long as it can add something new to her present stock of knowledge. And it is here worthy of remark, that the apparent exception in this case, arising from the greater length of time that a doll and a few other similar toys will amuse a child, is in reality a striking confirmation, and illustration of the principle of which we are speaking.--Such toys amuse longer, because it is longer before the variety of which they are capable is exhausted.--The doll is fondled, and scolded, and cradled, and dressed, and undressed in so many different ways, that the craving for new ideas continues for a long period to be amply gratified;--but the effect would be quite different, were the very same doll placed where it could only be looked at. Every new movement with the toy is employed by Nature, for the cultivation of the mental powers, by reiterating the ideas thus imparted, and on which the imagination delights to dwell; and also in receiving a knowledge of individual objects and ideas, which, when once known, are to form the elements of future groupings, and of an endless variety of information.

It is here of importance to recollect, that almost all the information received by children, is of a sensible kind. They can form little or no idea of abstract truths. The mind and the memory must be stored with sensible objects,--first individually, and then by grouping,--before the child can arrive at a capacity for abstraction. Nature's first object, therefore, is to store the memory and imagination of the young with the names and images of things, which, as we have seen, are acquired individually, and, when once known, are remembered for future use. But those things which they have not yet seen, or felt, or heard, or tasted, are totally beyond their conception, and cannot be of any service, either in grouping, or classification.--Hence the great importance of allowing the young mind to act freely in acquiring new ideas by this principle of individuation; as without this, all the lessons into which such ideas shall afterward be introduced, must be in a great measure lost. Even adults can form no idea of an unknown object, except by compounding it of something that they already know. And this is at least equally the case with children; who, till they can group and compare objects which they have seen, can realize no idea of any thing, however simple, that has not previously been subjected to the senses.--Hence, therefore, the importance at this period of a child's education, of confining the attention chiefly to sensible objects, and of not confounding his faculties, by too early an introduction of abstract ideas.

The application of these truths to the business of education, we shall attend to in its proper place; in the meantime we may remark, of how much importance it is, that all knowledge communicated to the young be simple, and that for some time it consist chiefly of sensible objects, and their qualities;--objects which they either know, or can have access to. Abstract subjects are not suited for children, till they can group, and classify, and compare the sensible objects with which they are already acquainted. The aim of the teacher, therefore, ought to be, strictly to follow Nature in this early stage of her operations, and to furnish food for his pupils, of the proper kind, and in proper proportions;--keeping the thinking powers constantly in healthful exercise, by giving as many ideas as the mind can reiterate without fatigue; but carefully avoiding all hurry or force, seeing that the powers of the mind are greatly weakened and injured by a multiplicity of objects, particularly when they are presented so rapidly, that the thoughts have not time to settle upon them, nor the mind to reiterate the ideas which they suggest.

Another principle which exhibits itself in the acquisition of knowledge by Nature's pupils, is that of "grouping," or associating objects together, after they are individually known. A child, or even an infant, who is frightened, or alarmed, or who suffers any severe injury, remembers the several circumstances, and has the place, the persons, and the things connected with the event, all associated together, and grouped into one scene or picture on the memory. These objects may have been numerous; but by the operation of this principle, they have all been apprehended, and united so powerfully with each other, that no future effort of the child can either separate or obliterate any portion of them; and so comprehensive, that the recollection of any one of the circumstances instantly recalls all the others.

These groupings in the mind of a child, formed chiefly by means of the imagination, are almost wholly compounded of sensible objects; and the only necessary prerequisite for their formation appears to be a knowledge of the individual elements of which they are to be composed. If an unknown object be presented to the mind in connection with the others that are known, it is generally excluded, and the things previously known retained. For example, in the case supposed above, of an accident occurring to a child, there would be thousands of objects present, and all cognisable by the senses; but not one of all these that were unknown, that is, that had not previously undergone the process of individuation, is found to form part of the remembered group.

This leads us to observe another circumstance connected with the operation of this principle, in the instruction of the young, which is the remarkable fact, that, by making the child familiar with a very few primitive elements, a parent or teacher may communicate an almost infinite variety of groupings, or stories, for cultivating the mind, and increasing the knowledge of his pupil. Hence it is, that hundreds of agreeable and useful little histories have been composed for children, with no other machinery than a mamma and her child, and the occasional introduction of a doll or a dog, a cat or a canary bird. To the child, there is in these numerous groupings no appearance of sameness, nor want of variety; and although so much circumscribed in their original elements, they never fail to amuse and delight.

The most important circumstance, however, connected with the working of this principle in the education of the young, appears to be the necessity of a previous familiarity with the individual objects, before the child is called upon to group them. If this has been attended to, the grouping of these into any combination will be easy and pleasant;--but if his attention be called from the group, to examine exclusively even but one of its elements, the operation is checked, the mind becomes confused, its powers are weakened, and the grouping has again to commence under serious disadvantages.

The child in the circumstances supposed, must either be a spectator in general, or an examiner in particular; in other words, he must either employ himself with the principle of combination or grouping, or with the principle of individuation,--but he never attempts to employ himself with both at the same time. If he amuses himself as an observer in general, he is engaged in grouping objects which are already familiar to him; but while he is so engaged, he never directs his attention to any one unknown object for the purpose of examining it for the first time by itself. He passes over all the minute and unknown objects with a glance, and attends only to the grouping or associating of those which are already familiar. Nature induces him, while thus employed, to pass by all these minute and unknown objects; because, if he were to do otherwise, his observation in general would instantly be recalled, and his whole attention would be monopolized by the object which he had resolved to examine, to the exclusion of every other for the time. This, however, is not what he seeks; and he employs himself entirely in the grouping of things which are already known. His mind is left at ease, and in the possession of all its powers; he looks only at those things which please him; and he passes over all the others without effort or difficulty.

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