and free from all its defects is offered, would be a piece of folly as great as to steer a vessel by the stars, and reject the mariner's compass as a modern innovation."

Nothing could exceed the indignation manifested by the priest through this entire harangue; his burst of passion at the conclusion, was like one of the tornados in the Indian ocean, where all the elements of storm strive together for the mastery. It seemed as if half a dozen sentences had got into his mouth at the same moment, and after struggling there like a flying army in a narrow defile, until they had bruised and battered each other out of all shape and form, burst forth at once in chaotic confusion. Curses clerical and unclerical, arguments valid and unvalid, epithets appropriate and inappropriate, verbs without subjects, conjunctions that joined nothing, and prepositions without objects, came jumbled together, as if the venerable prelate combined in his proper person the voices of half a score of Bable's most noisy labourers. The assembly broke up in disorder, having, like other more important assemblies, wasted several hours in discussion, and decided nothing. The priest vented his indignation in several elegant and classical articles against modern innovators, which were published in the Japanese Anti-Intellectual Gazetteer, and have been translated, from time to time, in the pages of the Age and John Bull, to the great edification of the British public. His innovating opponent took no notice, either of his phillippics or jeremiads, but applied himself to the humble task of collecting all the hints that have been thrown out at different times for the improvement of education, and facilitating the progress of youth; in the course of time he found that he had sufficient materials for a series of papers on the Simplification of Knowledge, which he communicated to his private friends; carefully observing how his system worked. result was so satisfactory, that he has resolved to communicate them to the world, through the medium of our pages. He begins almost every topic, according to the useful precepts of Vatablond, at the very beginning; assuming that his pupil knows literally nothing, and is consequently an infant, either in age or mind. We fear that his papers may appear a little tedious, and that in many instances he will be found to have sacrificed interest to utility, but we shall begin with the first portion of his Essay on Arithmetic, the earliest science to which youth is introduced.

ARITHMETIC.

The

In the series of short essays which I am about to lay before the public, I suppose myself addressing a person possessed of knowledge, and anxious to impart it to others. In the course of my experience, I have frequently seen, that the most learned are not always the best teachers; the science of communicating knowledge appears yet in its infancy; but it is pleasing to see that it has lately attracted much of the public attention. This science, like every other, can only be improved by enlarging our observations; it seems to be forgotten, that every lesson we teach a boy, is an experiment in mental science; and that a knowledge of the result, and of all the circumstances under which it was obtained, would be an important fact in the history of the human mind. The intellect of a boy is a piece of mechanism, to the full as complicated as the intellect of a man; let us then endeavour to watch all its operations,

and turn every part of the machinery to advantage. The only other prefatory observation necessary to be made, is, that when a simple truth is stated in the following essays, it is not brought forward with any idea that the reader is ignorant of it, but with the belief that he has not attended to all its consequences.

"Arithmetic" is defined to be "the science of numbers;' we begin to teach it generally, as if it were the science of figures, and introduce pupils to the symbols, before we are sure that they know any thing of what these symbols signify;-a process about as wise, as to set a pupil to learn the propositions of Euclid, before he is acquainted with the definitions. The reason of this is, that numbers, being the most simple and definite of our ideas; knowing that we have imperceptibly acquired them ourselves; we leave our pupils to follow the same track, as best they may. But we do not reflect that, in making the acquisition, we may have acquired false habits of thought, and formed bad associations of ideas; we are not conscious of the mischief that may have been done, during the time our mind was in confusion. Before teaching our pupils the science of numbers, let us take care that they know what numbers are. Now, the idea of number is obtained from the consideration of a remembered series of external objects, or successive thoughts. The latter belong rather to advanced life, let us confine our attention to the former. Having placed objects of any kind before your pupil, count them as far as ten, always exhibiting to him an aggregate of objects corresponding to the number you name; vary the objects several times, and repeat the same labour; finally, endeavour to make out from your pupil, whether, in the absence of all objects, he clearly understands what number of single individuals belong to any aggregate you may name. If you ask, Why all this trouble should be taken? I answer, Because you are teaching your pupil to make his first essay in the difficult process of abstraction, the formation of general ideas, and the use of general terms. I have specified the number ten, because, as the decenary scale is the basis of our system of computation, the sooner the mind is habituated to consider groups of tens, the better. Before proceeding further, it will be useful to divide the objects into equal, and unequal groups; and if counters be used to teach your pupil to form all the combinations you can think of, with the numbers between one and ten; such as, that ten can be divided into two groups, containing five each; and five containing two; that seven and three combined, make a group of ten, &c., and this, from the youthful love of variety, and the early desire to form combinations, will appear a species of pastime.

Your next lesson contains a new step in the process of abstraction, and two practical rules for the expression of thought. You are to show him, that aggregates of individuals may be numbered, as well as single objects; that aggregates may have their value represented by individual objects, and that this representation may be made to depend on position. Consider these three propositions, and ask yourself, are they so simple and so self-evident, that the infant mind can discover them unaided; or if they ought, as is practically done at present, to be reckoned in the class of instinctive truths? Let us now see how these precepts may be best communicated:—make the pupil count out ten heaps of counters, contain

ing ten each; let him then reckon the heaps; in doing so, he instinctively individualizes each heap, and considers it as a single object; by a few questions, direct his attention to the fact, and frequently recal it to his remembrance. Let him then count the heaps considered as aggregates, one ten, two tens, three tens, &c.; and let this be frequently repeated, before you give him the abbreviated appellations, twenty, thirty, forty, &c. ; for if you examine boys, educated in the common way, you will find many nominally far advanced in arithmetic, who are unacquainted with the simple fact, that forty means four tens. This lesson should be repeated, until it has become so strong a part of habitual knowledge, as to appear almost instinctive.

The next thing that claims attention is, to convey the first idea of representative value; for this purpose you desire your pupil to place on one part of the table a single counter, for every heap of ten that is on the other part; he will easily perceive that the aggregates are not so easily managed as their representatives; but in order to keep up the associations, the heaps must be kept on the table, and the same combinations repeated with them and the representative counters. During one or two days, these combinations should be confined to ten, and its multiples, and then you may proceed to the intervening numbers. To express twentythree, for instance, your pupil may have either two heaps of ten, and one of three, or he may have two counters on that part of the table destined to the representatives of ten; and three on the part where the objects are reckoned as single. He should be taught to express a great variety of numbers in both ways; and the lesson of making him express a represented number by heaps, should be frequently repeated, and vice versa. The different combinations of the numbers, between one and one hundred, will afford an agreeable variety to these lessons; as, for instance, to show into how many equal and unequal portions any particular number may be divided. By these combinations, you will give your pupil some idea of the four first rules of arithmetic; and you will be certain of the accuracy of his ideas; because the groundwork of them is palpable, and subject to the senses.

ISABEL.

Several years ago I took up my abode at the retired village of DI had chosen this residence on account of its sequestered situation; as solitude was, at that time, more accordant to my feelings, than the bustle of a populous town. At no great distance from my habitation, stood the Castle of D an ancient Gothic structure, sinking fast into decay. The last of its original possessors had been dead more than half a century, and it was the property of a gentleman who resided on the continent. The interior of the mansion spoke loudly of desolation and ruin the state apartments were despoiled of their magnificent decorations, and scarcely a vestige remained of their former splendour. An aged female domestic was the sole inhabitant of this deserted pile. Born

in the service of the family of Dshe had survived the last of its race, and remained a solitary relic of that illustrious house. It was the business of old Alice to show the castle to strangers; and I soon became a favourite with her, from the interest I appeared to take in the fate of its former inhabitants. The gallery was our chief resort; and, finding me a willing listener, my ancient companion delighted to inform me of all tradition had supplied her with, respecting the mighty warriors and stately dames, whose portraits still hung on the walls, smiling as if in mockery of the desolation around.

One fine autumnal evening found me, as usual, in my favourite retreat. The rays of the departing sun streamed in rich dyes through the coloured window, and fell with softened glory on the picture of a bridal ceremony. I was surprised that it had never before engaged my attention. The bridegroom was young, graceful, and noble-the bride, fair, soft, and delicate. By her side stood a form of unequalled loveliness: it seemed too beautiful to have belonged to a daughter of earth; and I imagined the painter had designed it to represent the guardian saint of the youthful pair. I inquired of my ancient conductress the history of this picture, and whether the beautiful female was not an ideal being; "Alas," said she, "it commemorates a heavy day for the house of D; on that day the last and fairest of its race, sunk the victim of unrequited affection;—that is her picture; but oh! her soul was more angelic than her person; she"--but reader, let me give the story in my own words. The Lady Isabel was the last descendant of the family of D-; her father had fallen in battle; his lady did not long survive him; and thus, at an early age, Isabel became an orphan. Her mother's brother was appointed her guardian, and with his son, Albert, came to reside at the Castle. The children thus insulated from the world, and educated entirely at home, saw nothing so worthy to be loved as each other; and their attachment was as romantic as the scenes around them. They both (but particularly Isabel) delighted in the high chivalrous legends of antiquity-and the tales of eternal constancy and self-devoted affection recorded of some of the earlier heroines of her family, were read with sacred veneration by the young enthusiast. In a mind of ordinary temperament, little harm would have resulted from the indulgence of such a taste; to the impassioned soul of Isabel, it was destructive and fatal. Deprived by death of the mother who might have taught her to restain and regulate her ardent feelings, they acquired by neglect additional strength, and eventually concentrated into a passion deep and lasting as her existence. As years passed on, so did her love increase; she regarded Albert as the perfection of human excellence, and worshipped him with all the full devotedness of her warm heart. It was not so with Albert; he thought of his fair cousin with pride-with tenderness; but it was only the calm affection of a brother: other feelings than those of love possessed him—he languished for fame, for honourable distinction among his fellowmen, and at length left his peaceful home, and the sweet companion of his youth, to fight the battles of his country. His career was glorious: and, after an absence of three years, he was recalled by the death of his father. Isabel welcomed him with rapturous joy; he embraced her with a brother's fondness, and gazed with delight on her improved beauty. He suspected

not, that she loved him with more than a sisterly affection, and thought not of the wound he was about to inflict on this tender, enthusiastic being. He told her of his attachment to a fair girl, who had consented to become his bride at the expiration of the term of mourning for his father-she heard him with death-like silence, checked the groan that was bursting from her agonised heart, and strove to assume a look of cheerfulness. Retired to the solitude of her apartment she wept in bitter anguish—her young soul was blighted; she had nothing left to live for ; hope, happiness, and love were at an end; for love would now be guilt. At length she grew calm; but it was the fearful calmness of despair; she complained not; reproached not; for she felt that she had been self-deceived; she could not, however, conceal the devastation which sorrow was making in her graceful form. Albert beheld her with concern, but ascribed the alteration to her grief for her father's loss; for Isabel had tenderly loved her uncle. She rejoiced at his mistake, and attempted not to undeceive him-one only wish possessed her; it was, to see the chosen of her Albert; and, with a feverish impatience she urged him to accelerate his nuptials. The appointed day arrived-Isabel, attired in robes of richest state, stood beside the altar, and witnessed the annihilation of all her earthly happiness; still she sunk not; but, with a mighty effort, pronounced a blessing on the wedded pair. The excitement brought back a vivid colour to her cheeks, and rekindled the lustre of her large dark eyes. The painter had seized that moment to depict her glowing form-the enthusiasm was but momentary-her angel face soon lost its lovely tint, and her beautiful eyes sunk again into languor:-the castle was thronged with noble guests-sick at heart the wretched Isabel wandered abstractedly amid the gay assemblyher large floating eyes seemed straying vacantly around, until they met the bridegroom's look of joy. Then came the madness of recollectionwith a convulsive shuddering she averted her head, and stole unnoticed from the company.-Morning came, but she appeared not; her chamber was searched she had not entered it.-Albert flew distractedly into the park, and, at length, perceived her quietly sitting by the side of the lake, near a bower, which, when a boy, he had helped to decorate : she was still clad in the robes of last night's festival. He ran eagerly towards her— she spoke not-he entreated her to answer him, but he implored in vain— there was neither breath, nor sense, nor motion-she was dead ! 'Twas a mournful sight! one white hand, stiffened to marble, was pressed upon her broken heart, as she had sought to stay its painful throbbings-the cold night dews hung in large drops upon her silken hair, and shed a tremulous gleam upon the diamonds that sparkled on her pale, icy forehead— the withered leaves had found a resting place upon her bosom, and her white garments were embroidered by their many colourings. The castle became hateful to Albert after this event: he removed to a distant part of the country, and never again revisited the scenes of his earlier years. He also was dead; and, Isabel, her love, and her despair, were forgotten by all, save one aged, isolated being, whose time-whitened locks and decrepid frame showed that she too was rapidly descending to the silence of the grave.