at the end of each hour in which to play about the large court of the chateau, and to allow of their changing their rooms, and all re-assembling in their proper classes; because a boy, who was in the first class in one branch, might be in the second in another, and in the third in another, &c.

The children collected at their school-rooms at six o'clock, all the year round, were occupied with some lessons until seven, when they went to the pump in the yard and washed themselves, as well in winter, when the ground was covered with snow, and the spout studded with icicles, as it was when I was there, as in summer. They then all collected in one of the rooms, where a hymn, or a psalm, or some part of the Bible, was read, either by Pestalozzi, or one of his assistants, and a prayer sometimes extempore, and sometimes written, by Pestalozzi himself, was addressed to heaven; they sometimes also sang a psalm or hymn. At eight they went to breakfast, and returned to their classes at nine, from which time until twelve, they were occupied with different lessons-they then went to dinner and recreation, and returned to their school business at two-from this until five was occupied fully with lessons of different kinds-at five they went to their " gouter," a meal corresponding to our teaat six returned to school, and remained until eight, when they ceased business for the day. A part of these last two hours was occupied in summer with gymnastics. As I above mentioned, the children ceased for some minutes at the end of each hour to be occupied with lessons, aud they availed themselves of this time to run out into the court-yard or garden, and commence some active sport, until the bell rang, when it was time to return, and they all immediately re-collected in their respective rooms. These intervals for amusement, together with the time allowed for meals, served to relax the mind; and although left at the children's own disposal, were scarcely ever wasted in absolute idleness, and usually devoted to some healthful sport, or some useful or amusing occupation, from which they in general returned in an instant, at the sound of the bell, to their respective businesses. That this continued occupation of the children, from morning until evening, was not injurious to their health, is sufficiently proved by the fact, that illness was excessively rare among them, and that no instance of death had occurred since the opening of the school. Indeed, Pestalozzi told me, that no instance of death had ever occurred in any of his schools. The constant changing of lessons, the passing of masters and of scholars from one room to another, and the general rush out and in, at the end of each hour, together with the activity of the boys in each class, the conversational form of many of the lessons, and the liberty allowed the children, to attend or not, as they felt inclined, gave at first view an appearance of disorder, yet which was really not so. Generally I saw most of the pupils in a class more interested or alive, than I ever see them in any other school; but sometimes also in some of the classes, a few appeared inattentive as in ordinary schools. This was unavoidable, and yet in a given time they were found to have made more solid and decided progress than in any other

school; for all their attention was voluntary, and their different faculties all kept alive, as well as their memory. And thus, though this constant changing of lessons, masters, &c. might cause much apparent waste of time, yet, I believe, it in reality saved time in the end, as by preserving the attention from weariness, it enabled them to learn more in a short given time, than if wearied, they could acquire by the uninterrupted study of one branch of learning. There was very little of what is called study (but what is too often, in fact, absolute idleness) at common schools. There was no getting of rules by heart, while the meaning was not comprehended, no poring over books with the eyes fixed on them, while the mind was wandering to the ends of the earth. Indeed, I think, that there was in general too little attention paid in Pestalozzi's school to independent study, in which the child should exercise his own powers of reflection and consideration, without the aid, and from under the eye of the master, which is what he must sooner or later begin to do, and on his power of doing which, will depend almost all of his self-education, after he has left school, which is certainly of the utmost importance. I think this was a defect in Pestalozzi's school; and yet I know that this deficiency was very nearly supplied, by the manner in which all the different branches were taught, which was in fact a constant exercise of all the different powers of the child's mind, and in which he was never assisted by the master, until his own resources had been found insufficient, and even then he was not directly informed of what he should have discovered, but was gradually led to the discovery himself, by either recurring to what he had already learned, and had neglected to reason upon, or by leading him by progressive questions to find the answer. Thus, in fact, every thing tended to lead the child to the power of independent study; and yet the thing itself, at least such as we see it in our schools and colleges, scarcely existed. That it is better to follow the Pestalozzian plan, than ours exclusively, I have not the least doubt; for with us the child is in fact required to study before he has been led to acquire the power of studying with pleasure and benefit and success, which was the great object of the commencing steps of every branch of `instruction at Yverdon. Yet still, I think, a combination of our plan with Pestalozzi's (I mean only in the more advanced periods of each department) would be productive of important benefits. And this I say, although I believe that the habit of continued studiousness, which our mode of study tends to generate, was more than supplied by the power of occasional, and gradually augmenting, and lengthened abstraction, which the Pestalozzian method of teaching produced. And I may here introduce a remark, which I remember to have been made by Dr. Gregory of Edinburgh, in his medical lectures on apoplexy, that it was only in the ages called dark, when learning was almost exclusively confined to men leading a monastic life, that the idea of the necessary connection between the studious or literary character, and authorship began to be fixed in men's ideas, and both combined with the necessity of much sedentary study; and he re

marked particularly the unfavourable effect, which the propagation of this erroneous opinion of the real manner, in which men can increase their force of thought and extent of useful knowledge had upon the energies, both mental and bodily, of many of our modern literati and philosophers. He observed that almost all the most celebrated men of antiquity, were men engaged in active public life, and not mere contemplative philosophers, or sedentary students of others' writings; they were men in fact, who derived their depth of wisdom from their own observations and their own reflections, and not solely from the collection of the stores of others, as has been too much the case since the invention of the art of printing. Thus, Zenophon was a general, Plato derived his name from the width of his shoulders, Cicero was a barrister, &c.

I had a good deal of conversation at different times with Mr. Neaf, the instructor of the deaf and dumb. He was a friend of several of the masters, who took offence, and quitted Pestalozzi; and therefore I was obliged to consider this, in listening to what he said about the then condition of his Institution, and its cause. He said, however, what was very true, that one saw more of Pestalozzi's plan introduced into the teaching of some branches in other schools, than even in Pestalozzi's own house at that time, which was caused, as I said before, by several of his actual assistants having been but a very short time with him, and not yet perfect masters of his views and plans. The others who quitted, objected unreasonably to this temporary want of accordance with his views as a renunciation of his principles, while it was in reality nothing, but the natural result of his being obliged, by their secession, to take what masters he could get; and would have been but temporary, had the Institution ever recovered from the shock it then got, which it never did. The seceders talked of opening a distinct school, in which the purity of his principles of elementary instruction should be preserved. For my part, I was satisfied that Pestalozzi was still perfect master of his faculties, and had still the same vigour of thought, as when he wrote "Leonard and Gertrude," or "How Gertrude taught her children;" and that he had in no manner deviated from his fundamental ideas, although his better judgment might make him perhaps reject some of the developements of his views, which his colleagues had effected, and which they, and even he, called at first a part of his method; but which, though they naturally adhered.to them, as being of their own creation, he afterwards disclaimed, as not being quite consonant with his views, or with the simplicity of nature. There was less restraint exercised over the boys in Pestalozzi's school, than in any other that I have ever seen, indeed less than we are accustomed to conceive in this country indispensably requisite; and yet, by the influence of kindness and persuasion, and by making the lessons all interesting and intelligible, the children's attention was kept more continually alive than it ever is in our schools, and they seemed to labour more willingly. There were scarcely any, if any punishments, never, I believe, any corporeal punishments, and but few

of

any other kinds. The exclusion from favour, public censure, on the family re-union of the whole house, masters and pupils, on Saturday night, when Pestalozzi addressed them collectively, and if necessary, individually, private admonition and remonstrance, more than counterbalanced their exclusion. Conversing with Pestalozzi one day about the system pursued in our schools, he mentioned, that he had often heard, that it was almost universally observed in England, that immediately on being released from the painful trammels of school discipline, the English youth were apt to become inattentive to all study or regularity, wild and unrestrainable for some years, and gave a loose to their love of expense, or to indolence, or gave free reins to their prevailing passion, which he attributed in a great measure to the injudicious manner, in which they are treated at our schools and universities, being subjected to a hateful, strict, unnatural discipline, which makes them disgusted with study and order. Such instances were very rare in Switzerland, where more liberty is allowed in the schools, and particularly in his Institution.

The children in his school lived a very hardy life, but were well fed with abundant wholesome food: they scarcely ever wore hats or caps at any period of the year, were well clothed, but seldom wore great coats; they bathed frequently, and were taught to swim, frequently went on an excursion among the mountains, and had but rarely fires in their school-rooms, some few of which had, however, small stoves. Pestalozzi himself was one of the hardiest men I ever saw; of the coldest days in winter, and when standing in the air without his hat, as was his usual custom, his hands were always warm. He called on me one day to go out and walk with him, when the ground was entirely covered with snow, and the lake of Neufchatel partially frozen, and the north wind blowing with a most bitter cold; he directed his steps towards the borders of the lake, where the ground was wet, and almost marshy, and kept walking up and down there conversing with all his peculiar animation of manner, while even his delightful conversation could scarcely prevent me from shivering with cold; yet his hands were warm, and he never seemed to mind the wet ground nor freezing wind. He told me he never felt his feet cold in his life. His voice was remarkably strong, and his chest sound; and when speaking with much earnestness, he asked me abruptly whether I wished to know, what were the real causes of the separation of his friends from him, and whether I could bear to know the whole truth of every thing, even though that truth should be painful. On my saying I could bear it, and wished to know it, he exclaimed, "then you shall know it all," with a voice which made the very trees around us echo again. He told me the whole truth, and I was satisfied, that his friends were in the wrong, and that Pestalozzi was the noblest man in Europe, and that even he may have bitter enemies who loves all. He also gave me afterwards proofs of his having been in the right, which put the matter beyond a doubt, and in which it was impossible that I should have been deceived. At another time, the conductor of a similar establishment, wished the name

of Pestalozzi added to his establishment, to aggrandize it, and that Pestalozzi should give himself up entirely to him. He sent a spy and an incendiary into his house, in the person of a very clever man, whom he gave him as a master; and this man sowed dissension among the school-masters, and succeeded eventually by his treachery in ruining the whole. One day, when he was tipsy, his maid discovered a correspondence, which he had carried on, and brought the letters to Pestalozzi. Pestalozzi kept them, but did not punish him.

Pestalozzi's spirit did not seem to pervade all the masters, some of whom appeared to seek only a livelihood in his employment. This was a difficulty and a misfortune to him, ever since he opened his school; the children paid so little by the year for every thing, that he could not give large salaries to his assistants, of whom he had generally fifteen or twenty. Most of them therefore came to his Institution, more to teach themselves his method, and then leave him for some other school, with the name of having come from Pestalozzi's, than from any real love for his object. Christian masters uniting to instruct youth, possessed themselves of talents, and using Pestalozzi's mode, and applying his principles to every thing, would, I am now more than ever convinced, effect more than has ever been conceived, or than we can even now conceive possible in education. God would help the efforts of such masters in cultivating the moral feelings of the pupils, and leading them in time to a firm faith and hope in Christ; and the effect of his method on the intellectual and physical man would, I am sure, be greater than even Bacon foresaw from the introduction of the inductive philosophy. Of this I have not a doubt. The results already obtained have exceeded all calculation. But Pestalozzi was not himself competent to perfect his own plans. He had indeed laid the basis of a universal perfection of the method of education; but, as he said himself, in " Wie Gertrude, &c." "I have but as it were thrown a spark into a heap of damp straw, whose existence there is now only traceable by the smoke which it evolves; but it will not be always so-it shall burn-it shall burn." Yet, though he had not the time, nor the power, nor the acquirements in literature and science necessary to fit him for the universal application of his principles, he has abundantly shown how they are applicable. He did what no other man could do-formed a universal basis for every thing that is to be taught-and none but the child of nature, and the pupil of self-educated intellect, such as he was, could have done so. He had scarcely any, if any, library—a few books-and read but little. Physical nature, and its operationsmoral phenomena-the character of children-the Bible, and his own heart and mind, were his storehouses. He was one of the most disinterested men in the world-was hardly ever worth five Louis himself at any time-scarcely spent any thing on himself, and could scarcely be persuaded to allow himself even the comforts, which might appear necessary at his age, so unwilling was he to defraud, as he thought, the poor, of what was given him but for them and their good. The good which he did to the poor