stories and reached their reason through their imagination and their hearts. "Strike their imagination with vividness," he was wont to say, "without fear of being accused of anthropomorphism; propose nothing to them save in the most striking pictures. Represent God to them as seated upon a throne, with eyes brighter than the rays of the sun and more piercing than the lightning; make Him speak; give Him ears that hear everything, hands that hold the universe, arms ever raised to punish the wicked, and a heart tender and loving and ever ready to give happiness to those that love Him. The time will come when you can make all this knowledge more accurate." Are not reason and experience here with Fenelon and against Rousseau? Will not time correct whatever may be too concrete in the moral education of the child? The teacher in showing him pictures, in showing him at an early age, a living and personal God, succeeds in awakening in the mind of his pupil a notion of the Divinity, an idea of duty and of respect; a love for what is good and a fear of what is wrong. A training such as this, begun by the mother at the child's most tender age, continued by her or by the teacher throughout childhood and youth, cannot but produce other and more beneficent results than the tardy and dramatic revelation of God, the Creator, to the Emile of Rousseau.

We have not time to enter upon a comparison between the Emile of Rousseau and the Telemachus of Fenelon. The latter work was composed expressly for a young prince with the idea of strengthening his mind, when matured by manhood, against the doc

trines of tyranny and the snares of voluptuousness, in pictures which the master presented to his pupil to arm him beforehand against the seduction of a throne and the allurements of his own heart. The book, though Pagan in form, was Christian in its inspiration, while Rousseau, though aiming to be Christian in form, was worse than Pagan in its inspiration. Fenelon's work recognizes and teaches the Divinity in the respect it inspires for the gods, and is the most perfect treatise upon education and political economy that exists in modern times. It has the merit of being at the same time a poem, a moral essay and a narrative. It was intended to furnish the programme of a future reign in which the Duke of Burgundy was to be the Telemachus and Fenelon the Mentor, and it is chiefly from this point of view that this book has exerted such a powerful influence over the mind of

man.

Rousseau's book, on the other hand, while beautifully written, has become popular simply because the new philosophy, so called, imagines itself wise in supplanting God by nature. Happily there are true philosophers who have not hesitated to expose its errors.

Rigoley de Juvigny, in his De la Decadance des Lettres et des Moeurs, (p. 417-419) says: "Far from accustoming children from their earliest infancy to receiving the good impressions so necessary in after life, they are left in absolute ignorance of the existence of God; without religious instruction; without the slightest idea of their duties until the period when passion begins to awaken; when waywardness will brook no restraint; when self-respect becomes pride; when the

disposition which has never been curbed can no longer be made to bear the curb; when reason, in a word, has no longer the power to act, nor the voice to enforce obedience, because the child's disposition has not been developed and enlightened as it grew in years. Is not this a most deplorable system?"

Christophe de Beaumont does not spare words in condemning Rousseau's delay in giving his pupil a knowledge of God. "True religion and sound reason," says he, "demand that a wise and vigilant teacher watch, in a certain way, for the first rays of his intelligence that he may direct it towards the beauties of truth, for the first beatings of his heart that he may reveal to him the charms of virtue. How much easier it is to foresee obstacles than to overcome them." It is true that times have been when the mind of the nation wandered away from the Church, notwithstanding the religious instruction of its youth, but the seeds of faith are never planted in the childsoul in vain. In the delirium of passion and in the depths of libertinage the principles of a religious education are as a light that breaks forth from time to time to reveal to the erring one all the horrors of the abyss

into which he has plunged and to show him the way out of it. How many are there, who after the excesses of a licentious youth, have returned by the aid of that light into the ways of righteousness and of wisdom, and have by their tardy but sincere virtue, reflected honor upon humanity, their country and religion?

France and the world must choose between the positive education handed down to her by tradition and the experience of centuries and the negative education of such men as Rousseau; between the education which banishes God from the heart until a sterile evil has been prepared for Him and one which opens the young heart to the God of love so soon as it can feel the first promptings of affection. She must choose between the cold teaching of Rousseau and that of those who have applied the Gospel to society; taught kings the sacred rights of man while showing the people the duties of subjects; that established liberty, justice, morality and charity in the dealings of the government with the people, and of the people with the government, and that has softened and Christianized the whole human

race.

PUNCTUS VIRIDIS.

edge, or because there is an absence of interest in school work and hence a distaste for professional reading. The life of a teacher is not that of a canal horse on the tow-path. A repetition of the daily routine of work, day in and day out, will not do in this day and generation. The teacher must be awake to all that is going on around him. He need not adopt all that comes along because it is new, nor is he free to reject it because it is new. He may have "fads" forced upon him by his superiors, in the name of progressiveness, to which he will have to yield obedience; and from the depths of his heart he may cry out: "O Progress, what crimes are committed in thy name," but his professional reading will afford him ample resources for turning these "fads" to some advantage, at least. The

know-all" teacher impresses his identity upon the Principal or School Inspector the moment the latter enters his class-room. He has one use he is a help to both Inspector and Principal-in this: that neither of these officers are obliged to spend any time in measuring his qualifications as a teacher. They are manifest the moment he opens his mouth; and he goes on record in his proper niche without delay. If he persist in this work, he is simply digging a shovel full of earth every day out of that grave of oblivion into which he will fall the moment he has made it deep enough to fit him.

The day of the "know-all" teacher is past; the day of the "seek-all" teacher is at hand. He must have eyes that will penetrate into the minds of his pupils so that he may adopt such means of imparting information

as will secure and hold their interest and attention, as well as their esteem and respect; he must be on the alert to detect the moment when reasonable interest ceases, and at once change the subject in hand for a fresh one, but he must not do so without completing the thought he was elucidating or developing. Then he must take account of the atmospheric influences pervading his class, as evinced in the restlessness or heaviness of his pupils. In his instruction he should make his illustrations-the most potent factors in his work-such as come within the range of the daily life of his pupils; he must show them likenesses and differences in familiar things, and correlate them with the new things he wants to bring to the notice of his pupils, and, having in mind the lesson of the morrow, he must pave the way to it in the work of the previous day. If he can awaken a spirit of questioning on the morrow of the previous day's work, he has gained a glorious victory on the lines of directing thought, and thought is the life of his work.

Nor is the task of the "seek-all" teacher bounded by the walls of his class-room or of his study at home. Every walk he takes, either on his way to school, or for recreation, is full of object lessons he can utilize. At the corner grocery he sees a display of raisins, grapes, early vegetables, imported pickles, peas and fruits, &c., and here he may send his pupils to see them and then tell him where grapes and raisins come from; where Malaga is, how it may be reached from here; how these grapes, early vegetables, and im ported goods are transported from their native land to ours, and what we send back to those lands in exchange; what

this process of exchanging goods is called; why certain things will grow better in other lands than in ours, and others again flourish better in our country than in others. The furniture stores give us specimens of mahogany, rosewood, basswood, &c. The hardware store is filled with foreign and domestic cutlery, agricultural implements, &c. Where these come from and the occupations their manufacture affords the working classes will make valuable practical lessons for the average pupil. Anecdotes connected with the histories of the several countries mentioned will heighten the interest of pupils because most young people like to hear about men, what they do; what they say; how they live, &c. Art galleries, museums, aquariums, &c., offer another rich store of treasures for the "seek-all" teacher, so do monuments, arches, obelisks, memorial buildings and the like. The realms of nature and art form a shining book in which to learn the most valuable lessons of life. "Wonder is the basis of knowledge, and intelligent interest and curiosity are but wonder in another form." Children are naturally inquisitive, and their curiosity, properly directed, may be made a valuable aid in awakening interest and keeping up attention. The "seek-all" teacher will have no difficulty in awakening curiosity about familiar objects if he study "child-nature" and "object-existence"

to advantage. He will find, and reveal to his pupils, "books in running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything," and his work will be so conducted as to arouse in his pupil's mind the pleasure of conquest and possession. Children like to feel that they have achieved something for themselves, and every conquest made is an inducement to still more sustained effort and closer attention. Pupils of the live teacher soon become interested in finding out where he is leading them; they can do this only when understanding clearly what is being taught at the moment, and this, in itself, is a strong inducement to regular and punctual attendance, and it is astonishing how sharp children often become in discovering what the teacher is aiming at.

Let the "seek-all" teacher, then, persevere in his seeking; let him appreciate the great work he has undertaken; let him be ever on the alert to seize upon the grains of golden wheat that tall in his way, so that he may ever have at his command a rich treasure house of information from which he may cull at a moment's notice, facts, incidents, comparisons, illustrations, coincidences, &c.; to meet the wants of his pupils, to hold their interest and attention, and to secure for himself the fruits of his well merited labors.

PUNCTUS VIRIDIS.

not well considered the end.

The teacher is a candle which lights others while consuming itself. Religion is the cement of all virtue,

society.

Shakespeare was the greatest expresser that ever lived; he knew the meaning of words.

Aristotle being asked what a man could gain by telling a falsehood, replied, "Not to be credited when he speaks the truth."

We place a high value upon intelligence, not because it may lead us to such things as it often does, but because it raises us above them.

In what obscure and sequestered places may the head be meditating which is one day to be crowned with more than imperial authority!

"The schoolmaster is abroad" to little purpose unless his pupils stand ready in their places to receive him with open and active minds, and to labor with him for their own benefit.

As we are, in a great measure, what our forefathers made us, so our posterity will be what we make them; and this is a thought that may well make us both proud and afraid of our destiny.

It may take a thousand years for a thought to come into power, and the thinker who originated it may die in rags or in chains, but his thought, if a good one, will build his monument in time.

Good and friendly conduct may meet with an unworthy, an ungrateful return, but the absence of gratitude on the part of the receiver cannot destroy the self-approbation which recompenses the giver.

Hear instruction and be wise and refuse it not; receive instruction and not silver; knowledge rather than choice gold, for wisdom is better than rubies, and all the things that may be

desired are not to be compared to it.

A taste for reading will always lead you to converse with men who will instruct you by their wisdom and charm you by their wit; who will soothe you when fretted, refresh you when weary, counsel you when perplexed, and sympathize with you at all times.

Blot Christianity out of man's history, and what would his laws have been, what his civilization? It is interwoven with our very being and our very life; there is not a familiar object around us which does not wear a different aspect because of the light of Christian love that beams upon it.

Books! the miracle of all our possessions; more wonderful than the wishing cap of the Arabian Tales; for they transport us instantly, not to all places but to all times. By our books we can conjure up before us, to vivid existence, all the great and good men of old; and, for our own private satisfaction, we can make them act over again the most renowned of all their exploits.

It is a most truly Christian exercise to extract a sentiment of piety from the works and the appearances of nature. It has the authority of the sacred writers upon its side, and even our Saviour Himself gives it the weight and solemnity of His example. "Behold the lilies of the field; they toil not, neither do they spin, yet your heavenly Father careth for them." He expatiates on the beauty of a single flower, and draws from it the delightful argument of confidence in God.