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One can not even compare them to the Asymptotes of the Hyperbola, which, although destincd never to meet, do yet continually approach. A certain portion have within them a positive, an impellent and progressive power; they are the embodiment of intelligence and energy. The force which influences the majority of their colleagues is negative, retardatory. And yet men who have themselves passed through college, and obtained in after-life the power of rectifying the matter, will still proceed upon the fallacious assumption, that students of abilities and attainments so utterly different may profitably pursue the same course and attain the same proficiency.

The democratic principle is carried out, and, in defiance of fact, it is supposed that "all are born equal" in respect to intellectual capacity.

We give our own experience, although with a pang; for we cannot but contrast what was with what ought to have been. The course was begun with forty odd in company. Some were amply prepared. They were competent to read and enjoy the classics-to derive from them the higher advantages which arise from their study-to observe how the thoughtful minds of olden times were occupied; how earnestly and yet how vainly they searched for religious truth. They were ready to learn the lesson which is so important to be learned in our day, and which is taught by no other method than that of classic study with equal impressiveness, that the noblest intellect can not by searching find out God-that the most admirable human culture is not a motive-power of sufficient strength to make men holy. They had learned to decline, to conjugate and scan, in years gone by, and much of what was brought to their attention was entirely familiar, and as superfluous as the daily recitation of their A B C would have been. For other some, it was required of a professor to show compassion. It is a fact that at least one member of the class, of which we speak, was unable to pronounce the Latin words which he was required to translate. How tenderly the shepherd was obliged to guide such wandering sheep!

Now, what was the result of the system which brought together these very unequal elements?

Much of our time was occupied in listening to excuses based on the text of "Not prepared to-day, sir ;" or, on those few and far-between occasions, when the reverse was supposed to be true, having our risible faculties called into play at the expense of our intellectual. Tragedies became serio-comic under the singular treatment they received. Grammar ceased to be dry, and prosody was made entertaining. Science was made ludicrous as well as entertaining, and an effort at triangulation baffled the gravest intentions. Doubtless this threw a charm over college-life; it might be that the occasions of merriment alluded to were, to some minds, the green and refreshing oases of their wilderness march. But the object seriously proposed was largely interfered with. We made far less intellec

tual progress than was easily possible. Instead of being wholly read, classic authors were partly parsed. The whole of a play was never perused. The intelligent members of the class were impeded in their efforts, like the prisoner fettered to a corpse. Judging of the experience of others by our own, the system of democracy operating in the college, is productive of nothing but harm. Industrious intelligence is positively hindered, by indolent ignorance, from accomplishing its maximum. Like the giant and the child when forced to walk together, the representatives of the former are obliged to shorten their steps in accordance with the abilities of their companions. Why do not our school conventions revolutionize the prevalent state of things, and remove one of the very great reasons for that want of thoroughness which so lamentably characterizes our collegiate education? We flatter ourselves that we are far in advance of the nations of Europe in every thing that concerns intellectual progress. The barbarians come over to this side of the Atlantic to be civilized. The light of knowledge shines, as does the sunlight at the close of day, only in the regions of the West! And yet we have so far humiliated ourselves as to receive some ideas from the old-fogy world. They have made for us the discovery that the earth revolves around the sun, and in other branches of science have made, we must allow, no inconsiderable progress. Why may it not be possible that they have some sound notions which would bear importation in reference to the matter of education?

THE SCHOOLMASTER M.D.*

IN the State of New York ('tis a long time ago)

A great operation occurred:

I am speaking the truth, and I'd have you to know

That I am quite willing to swear that it's so,

Or affirm, if you dare doubt my word.

"Twas at Greenwich the school-house I'm speaking of stood-
A battered old shanty, I vow;

Though 'tis twenty years since, it is standing there yet,
On an island not round; if you go there, I'll bet

You will find it the same even now.

And in it, most likely, a hard set of boys,

All ready for any high game;

And of girls, too, quite willing to share in such joys:

All ripe for a frolic and fond of a noise;

In youth, you and I were the same.

This "Case of Discipline"-written by our contributor, R. W. Hume-is copied, with permission, from Harper's Weekly.

But just at the time I am writing of now,

The building was cheerless and lone;
The windows were broken; and only a cow
Seen grazing beneath the old willow-tree bough,
Or a mangy dog gnawing a bone,

And the reason no Busby would take it in hand
Was because of the tales that were told;
How Jack's finger was cut, and Joe rolled in the sand
By the widow's son Dick, and the Hollingshead band
Were licked by Tom Raynor the bold.

Then duly next morn came the mothers to pray
That the teacher would cowhide them well;
Or if Dick and Tom Raynor were not sent away
They wouldn't send Johnny nor Joe ne'er a day,
And would take away Kitty and Bell.

Poor teacher! Each day he was bothered and pained To settle the wars of the eve,

Till, with patience exhausted, he fairly complained "No mortal could stand it ;" and further, proclaimed "That he had determined to leave."

"Twas long ere another was willing to try

The place thus vacated and lorn,

Till a grave learned Doctor, who that way passed by
And heard of the trouble, without if or why,
Declared he would work a reform.

Being duly installed in the schoolmaster's seat,

The day passed without any rub;

But a friend sent next morning a note short and sweet,

To hint that a stick was no weapon discreet,

As his boy had been struck with a club.

"Twas read; and the boy was called forth rather gruff, And asked to exhibit his wound.

So, sniv'ling and wiping his nose on his cuff,

Georgy Williams his trowser pulled up with a snuff,
And held out a leg which was sound.

"Is it here ?" said the teacher; "why, this is a burn."

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""Tis a very grave case," said the Dominie stern;

"It might have been fatal." Though, reader, you learn It scarcely discolored the skin.

"Why, Georgy, my son, did you walk to the school?

I declare it was rash so to do.

But as you are here you must sit on this stool,
And hold up your leg like a parallel rule

To the maps which hang here in your view."

Then taking him gently with tenderest care,
In a loving and fatherly manner,

He called for a cushion, and then for a chair,
And seating poor Georgy, he placed his leg there,
And bandaged it with his bandana.

On further inquiry, the Dominie found
The name of the other young sinner

Who struck the foul blow; and in justice was bound
To call for his aid when the play-spell came round,
To bring Georgy Williams his dinner.

And he made him all day like a lacky to stand,

Or a priest doing penance for sins;

To hold Georgy's slate, and to place in his hand
Ev'ry book he required. While Georgy, right grand,
Sat in state,-like a monarch on pins.

With his leg for a sceptre, stretched out on a chair,
He sat through the ne'er-ending day;

While Harry, the villain, did wait on him there,
And with rueful compunction his sorrow did share,
For neither could go out to play.

And when studies were o'er, lest the lame little lad
Should be to his sister a drag on,

The Dominie said, She must speak to her dad
To gear up his horse, as the walking was bad,
And send down for George the light wagon.

Next morning the patient all rosy appeared,
Declaring his trouble was o'er.

And when his preceptor's inquiry was heard,

"How's your leg, Georgy Williams?" he stoutly averred "It was better than ever before."

And in the prescription such virtue was found

(If you use it I don't care a peg),

That no child ever threatened, while playing around, To tell of a hurt got on Greenwich school ground,

But was met by the cry, "How's your leg?"

THE STRAIGHT MARK.

CHARACTERS:

MR. RUSSE, a new teacher.

RICHARD, SAMUEL, WILLIAM, JAMES, School-boys.
HENRY, NICK, NED, and others,

SCENE-A School. Teacher at his desk-Class before him.

Mr. Russe. The class will now recite in arithmetic.

Those at the seat will work the examples on their slates.

Books aside.

Richard will

take the board. [RICHARD goes to the blackboard.] I shall give you, this morning, an original example suggested by the recitation.

James. I can't do these sums, Mr. Russe.
Mr. R. Can't! Was that your word?
Henry. They're awful hard, Mr. Russe.
Mr. R. Very hard you mean; not awful.
Samuel. [Whispers.] Bill!

William. Hulloa !

S. Play ball after school?

Mr. R. Some say they can not do the examples. Let us try one of them. Attention. [Reads.] You have 18 bushels of corn at 48 cents a bushel [RICHARD writes on the board; the other boys, on their slates.] W. [to SAM.] I speak for first base.

Mr. R. [Reads.] 8 bushels of rye at 52 cents—

S. [to WILLIAM.] I'm pitcher.

Mr. R. No whispering! [Reads.] 4 bushels of wheat at 85 cents— H. Say, Sam.-Look out, he's looking

Mr. R. Samuel, are you whispering?

S. I am not, sir.

Mr. R. Were you? That, of course, is what I mean.

S. When?

Mr. R. Just now, when I looked up.

S. No, sir.

Mr. R. Have you been?—that is, since we began the recitation.

S. Yes, sir.

Mr. R. A boy who tells the truth is a good boy. It seems that a good boy may be inattentive. [NICK draws a variety of trifles from his pocket.] Samuel will attend.

S. Yes, sir. But I can't understand.

Mr. R. Richard will try to make it clear presently-[Reads]-And would mix the whole with grains worth, one kind, $1,28% per bushel. [CHARLES takes some of Nick's playthings, and NICK snatches for them.] Nick. Here!-give me those!—

Mr. R. Boys! Nick, where's your slate? [NICK takes his siate. Mr. RussE reads.] The other at $2 per bushel

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