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THE IP®SI? Is published in the city of Macon every Saturday Morning, at three dollar? in advance, four dollars after three months— two dollars for six months — and mailed to country subscribers by the earliest mails enveloped by good strong wrappers, with legible direc tions. {TT" No subscription received for a less period than six months—and no paper discontinued, until all arrears are paid. Advertisements not exceeding twelve lines will be in •serted at $1 00 for the first insertion, and 50 cents for ..each continuance —larger ones in proportion. Persons wishing to advertise by the year must call at the office and make an agreement to that effect. 55" Advertis ements not limited when handed in, will be inserted till forbid, and charged accordingly. Kr Any person forwarding a ten dollar bill, (post paid,) shall receive four copies, for one year, to be sen 1 'to differeut persons, as directed. 3CT Letters, on business, either to the Publisher or Editor, must come post paid to insure attention. JOB FISHOTHHO. iv n |tf> J Jggpfjj BOOKS, PAMPHLETS and CIRCULARS, Fasting anti Show Hills, BUSINESS AND VISITING CARDS. AND JOB WORK. IN GKNKRAL. EXECUTED WITH NEATNESS AND DESPATCH, j At the Office of the “ Southern Post," Macon, BY C. R. HANLEITER. DCr If desired, different kinds of Bronze and Color ed Inks will be used, rendering the job lusteful in the extreme. MAIL ARRANGEMENTS. EASTERN mail. DUE I CLOSES Daily, at 4 o’clock, P. M. | Daily, at 9 o’clock, P. M. WESTERN MA11... Daily, at 7 o’clock, P. M. | Daily, at 2 o’clock, P. M. SAVANNAH— DIRECT. Mondays, Wednesdays Mondays, Thursdays and and Saturdays, at Saturdays, at’J, P. M. 6 o'clock, P. M. Also, on Tuesdays, via. Augusta, at 9, P. M. DARIEN MAIL. Same as the Savannah. | Same as the Savannah. FORSVTH MAIL. Tuesdays, Thursdays and I Sundays, Tuesdays and Saturdays, at 6, P. M. | Thursdays, at 6, P. M. HAWKINSVILLE AND FLORIDA MAILS. Mondays, Wednesdays &, I Mondays, Wednesdays & Saturdays, at 12, P. M. | Saturdays, at 6, P. M. PEIDMONT, ATHENS AND CHEROKEE MAILS. Close Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, at 6 o’clock, P. M. K. TYNER, p. m. ® ii £r s a a is a 9 JKr We are authorized to announce EDWARD D. TRACY, Esq. as a candidate for the Senate, from Bibb county, at the Election in October next. 38 iKrlVe are authorized to announce NA THANIEL EELLS as Candidate for Cleric of the Inferior Court, at the election in January next. * {&• We are anthorized to announce JOHN 11. OFFUTT as a Candidate for Clerkship of the Inferior Court of Bibb county, at the election in Janu ary next. 30 53-THOM AS J. SAULSRI RY, is a Can didate for Clerk of the Inferior Court of Bibb county at the ensuing election. 31 PIIOSP E C T U S FOR PUBLISHING IN THE CITY OF MACON, A DAILY MORN ING NEWSPAPER, TO COMMENCE ON MONDAY, THE SECOND OF SEPTEMBER, 1839, ENTITLED Tlic IVlacon Daily Advertiser. rfIHE subscribers, ever anxious to advance the in- A terests of Macon, and to contribute their mite to ward the amusement and instruction of her citizens, propose to publish a small DAILY PAPER, bearing the above title, and to commence at the time specified, unless the patronage extended to it will warrant its ap pearance at an earlier period. They well know the great expense, labor and trou ble attending such a publication, but feel confident a paper of the kind is essentially necessary to the grow ing importance of Macon, and the surrounding coun try : they are satisfied the Commercial portion of our citizens desire a daily medium of communication with the public ; that their facilities are cramped, and her importance greatly underrated, for the want of such a print; and that they will not suffer the undertaking to {icrish for the want of sufficient patronage at their lands. The Macon Daily Advertiser is published with a view to the Commercial interest of .Macon, and Inter nal Improvements, generally. It will also lend its aid to advance and encourage the Mechanical, Agricultu ral and Manufacturing interests of the State. In short, no labor will be spared, on our part, to render it a wel come visiter, not only to the Merchant, the Farmer, and the Mechanic, but the Literary, Miscellaneous and General reader. It will otherwise constitute a channel of useful knowledge and general information. All the Commercial Intelligence of importance, both Domestic and Foreign, will he summed up, under the proper head, so as to afford our Mercantile patrons ev ery description of News which they can desire, at the earliest moment. A correct Review ol all the impor tant Markets, and of our own, shall appear weekly. Arrangements will also be made that will enable us to furnish a correct Shipping List daily, containing the Arrivals, Clearances, Departures, &c., of vessels at and from the ports of Savannah, Charleston, N. York, <fcc. etc., together with the Arrivals at, and Departures from, this place. In addition to other matters, a daily Report of the Receipts of Cotton in our Market shall appear. CITY NEWS —Under this head all matters and oc currences ol interest, of every character, relating to, or transpiring within the city, will be faithfully recorded. TO ADVERTISERS, both of the city and country, we shall reserve a large portion of our sheet. On them we shall depend mainly for support, and pledge our selves to keep an eyesingle to their interests as well as our own. Terms: —For subscription, pet annum, $8 00 ; sub scriptifHi, for six months, 85 (X); subscription, for one month, 81 00; to be paid invariably on the delivery of the first number. Single copies, 12i cents. Orders from a distance must come post-paid, or they will not receive attention. No paper will be sent to any person residing outof the city, unless the Cash accompany the order, or a re sponsible city reference is given. All Advertising accounts must be settled monthly. PENDLETON & HANLEITER. June 8,1839 LOST AOTE. riIEN DAYS AFTER DATE, I promise to pay to A W. C. Parratnore, or bearer, three hundred dol lars, for value received, this 10th April, 1839. G. H. SIMMS. GEORGIA, Bibb County. Before me, personally appeared Lemuel Wilkinson, who being sworn, snith that lie was in possession of the original Note, of w hich the above is a copy in sub stance—that he traded for the said Note from said Parramore, and that he has lost said Note —that said Note has not l>een paid, nor has it been negotiated by this deponent in any manner whatever, to anv person whomsoever. LEMUEL WILKINSON. Sworn to and subscribed before me, this 6th May, 1839 WM. CUMMING, J. P May 6 3m28 BY P. C, PENDLETON. VOL. 11. POETRY. From the London Weekly Dispatch. There’s a Star in the West. There’s a star in the west that shall never go down Till the records of valor decay; We must worship its light though ’tis not our own, For liberty bursts in its lay ; Shall the name of Washington ever be heard By a freeman, and thrill not his breast ? Is there one out of bondage that hails not the word As the Bethlehem star of the west? “ War, war to the knife; be enthrall’d or ye die,” Was the echo that waked in >he land ; But it was not his voice that piompted the cry, Nor his madness that kindled the brand ; He raised not his arm, he defied not his foes. While a leaf of the olive remained; Till goaded with insult, his spirit arose Like a long bated lion unchained. He struck with firm courage the blow of the brave, But sighed o’er the carnage that spread ; He indignantly trampled the yoke of the slave, But wept for the thousands that bled, i Tho’ he threw back the fetters and leaded the strife, ! Till man’s charter was fairly restored; j Yet he pray’d tor the moment when freedom and life j Would no longer be pressed by the sword. j Oh ! his laurels were pure, and his patriot name j In the page of the future shall dwell, And be seen in all annals, the foremost in fame, J By the side of a Hofer and Tell. Revi'e not mv song, for the wise and the good | Among Britons have nobly confessed, j That his was the glory and ours was the blood Os the deeply stained field of the west. From the Southern Churchman. A LADY’S TOILET. The author of the following lines will forgive our obliging correspondent for the liberty which has been taken in bringing them forth from the obscurity of a private Album, to shine with greater beauty in the blaze of open day. Bring gems, pure gems, to adorn the fair, i Jewels of value most precious and rare, Pearls of great price, to her todet bring, | Wrought with nice skill in each exquisite thing. At the shrine of beauty, let India display ! Her tribute unequalled and bright as her day, But the gem, which all others has ever outshone, Is worn by the “ meek quiet spirit” alone. Bring gems, true gems, to adorn the fair, Jewels of price, her medallion should bear; Bring the diamond of wit, and mingle its rays With the beryl of beauty’s dazzling blaze ; And the gorgeous topaz, philosophy’s gem, With the emerald of youth, and add to them All that is brilliant, and eclipsed they shall be By the lovely gem of humility. Bring gems, more gems, to adorn the fair, Jewels of worth for her girdle rare, Wreathing itself imperceptibly round, None knowing the magic by which they are bound, I Clasped with love’s turquoise of heavenly blue, Which casts over all things its soft’ning hue, Enfolding the mantle of charity in— Matchless the girdle of temper has been. Bring gems, more gems, to adorn the fair, Jewels of price for her bracelets rare, The wrought gold of industry, forms the strong band j Enchaining the captive to beauty’s hand; And clasped with a cameo of love, whose wings Good humor has bound with her numberless strings, I None may escape from the conquering arms, Which such bracelet invest with resistless charms. Bring gems, more gems, to adorn the fair, : Jewels of worth for her ring most rare, ] Eternity’s emblem, and ever in view, [ Should be set with reflection, most precious and true, “All that thou hast ” unrepiningly bring, For the “pearl of great price” to adorn this ring, | That when jewels are numbered, thy name thou may’st Set high in the ring of eternity. [see, MISCELLANY. BRIEF SKETCHES OF WASHINGTON, JEFFERSON, MADISON AND MARSHALL. Extracted from 'an Oration delivered by John S. Pendleton, Esq., at the Celebration of the 4th inst. at the Fouquier White Su/pher Springs. ” It was from Virginia, that the united voices of Congress and the colonies, called to the (chief command of our armies, a man who, if | he were not the only man in the world qualified, was yet pre-eminently better qualifier! than any other one, for the arduous and responsible duties, confided to him. I shall not attempt to pronounce an eulogy on the character of Washington. Orators and poets, historians and essayists, the pious and the profane, the good, the wise, and the great, without distinction of party, of country, or of faith, have concurred in placing his fame and reputation above that of any and of all the men who have lived “ in the tide of times.” His character stands and ever will stand forth, in the great “ Patheon of History,” in such proportions, as not to be compared with that of other men. But it rises as some lonely and stupendous monument of nature; rearing its majestic form in the solitude of the wilder ness—its magnitude and magnificence, illustra ted by the silence, that sleeps around it. So numerous were the gallant and dis tinguished men, in military association with their venerated chief from his own State, that 1 refrain fiom any attempt at their enumeration. To refer to some, would be unjust—to all, im. DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, INTERNAL IMPROVEMENT. COMMERCE. AGRICULTURE, FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC NEWS. AMUSEMENT. Etc. Etc. TERMS : THREE DOLLARS, IN ADVANCE —FOUR DOLLARS, AFTER THREE MONTHS. MACON, (Ga.) SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 27, 1839. possible, without spinning out an oration, to the length of a history. The records of the times furnish abundant evidence, that, when ever the tide of war was raging fiercest—there the gallantry of Virginia was most conspicuous ly displayed. From the St. Lawrence to the Savannah, from the savage scenes of the bor der conflicts, to the long line of Atlantic battles, the Eagles of liberty were unfurled on no field, on which the blood of Virginia did not flow. Nor was she less distinguished for her sages in council than foi her heroes in camp. The author of the Declaration of Independence— the great intellectual colossus of the eighteeth century, performed, in the production of that ai tide alone, a service, sufficient to perpetuate | his fame. But if he had not performed that service, he would still have left behind him, in those institutions of his country which were peculiarly the work of his own hands, the last ing memorials of his talents and patriotism. It is certainly true of Mr. Jefferson, that he so (conciliated the regard, and won the confidence (of his countrymen, as to enjoy whilst living, a greater degree of public consideration, than has j been accorded to any other citizen—the father |of his country accepted. A consideration so [great, that for half a century, his opinions in j regard to all matters connected with govern j ment, have been adopted by hundreds of thou (sands, as much by the exercise of faith, as by the operation of the judgment. Asa states man, a patriot, a sehol tr and a philosopher, he will not cease to be admired, whilst liberty or science has a votary left. To Mr. Jefferson, like many of the great men of the revolutionary era. seemed to have (been given a principle of physical vitality, j hearing some proportion to the intellectual icapacily. He was permitted to live beyond ' the time allotted to ordinary men. Like the great compatriot, he was reserved after his time of active labor had passed, to aid his (country by the counsels of a wisdom ripened in the exercises of a protracted and eventful ! career. As he was united with Adams in life, so he was not separated from him in death. They appeared together, on the great theatre of the revolutionary drama—they divided the j responsibilities, and the glories of the first act — competitors after Washington for the first (honors, which the Republic could confer,they both received them, according to the rights of (their respective age. When the irritations of (active competition had subsided, they resumed their relations of friendship and confidence— (and when admonished by the growing infirmi ties of decay ing nature, thatthetime approach, ed, when they must be prepared to test the dread realities of un untried existence, itiey (communed together, upon that solemn event. When the time did actually come, it came to both —and hand in hand they descended to gether the dark “ valley of the shadow of death.” Witnessing the fiftieth return of the (anniversary we"celebrate, and within the very l'liour in which we are now engaged, their libera | ted spirits soared together, from the scenes of j their earthly honors and labors—accompanied | in the very moment of their departure, by the prayers and the benediction of a rejoicing nation. An adjoining district boasts the production of another son, who, though less connected with the events of the revolution, was no less distinguished by his important services in per fecting our system. Considered in the single, but important character of a great and ac complished statesman—Madison was, if not the very first, unquestionable among the first j men, whom his country has produced. A j mind stored with the deepest erudition—trained with the most laborious care, and adorned with the most various and perfect accomplish ments—a temper so firm, yet so mild as to re (tain the confidence and the affection of friends, (without forfeiting the respect or the admiration of adversaries ; a decision, tempered with so wise a moderation in his party predelictions, that he was as prompt to adopt the judicious plans of his opponents, as he waq to reject the unwise suggestions of his friends—as a writer, leaving behind him the purest specimen of style, which his country or perhaps his age had afforded—as a debater displaying on all (occasions an ability, only exceeded by his own modesty—wielding a sword, which though ikeen as the scimitar of Saladin, yet carried j from the conflict, no heart-stain on its blade, j His character presents, in all the proportions of beauty and of strength, the perfect model of a wise, able and practical statesman. His commentaries on the Federal Constitution, [ whether in the shape of essays, debates or State papers, are probably the best of his pro ductions. On them his title to alasting fame, may safely repose. For they constitute a memorial as splendid and imperishable, as the great subject, to which they were dedica ted. The same region of country (the Eastern base of the Blue Ridge mountains, extending from the Potomac to James river,) fertile of illustrious men, has at no period of our history failed to perform its parts of public duties; nor to contiibute for more than itk rateable pro portion, to the sum of the national glory. Nor can it reasonable complain of the ingrati tude of republics—for it has divided largely of of the public honors, whether conferred by the Stutu or Federal Government. Including the county of Fairfax, as being within the designa ted range, the first office of the Republic has been confided to its citizens and residents, for two-and-thirty of the entire fifty years, that I I have elapsed since its institution. In all the (other brandies of public service, whethert I military or civil, foreign or domestic, the same I section of country has maintained up to this j very day, a proud and constant pre-eminence. I For obvious and palpably sufficient reasons, | I again waive a minute enumeration. I might exhaust the patience of this assembly, already so signally and kindly manifested toward me, with details of too much interest, for the in justice of a partial reference. The battles ol Guilford, of Trenton, of Saratoga, of Brandy wine, of Yorktown, and many others—with the whole lineof the Northern and the Western frontiers, in both our wars of Independence j rush upon the memory with a crowd ofinci-j dents, to prove that the honors of this favored j region have not been restrained tolhe field of j civil distinctions. Whilst it has been the good fortune of our j portion of the Piedmont Country, to win so; rich a renown, it is the special privilege of the Cojnty in which we are now assembled, to! claim the credit of having given to the Repub lic, and the world, a man who, possessing all | the -qualifications of military, of civil, and of; social life, approached nearer the character of j Washington, than any of his contemporaries. | Every mind in the reach of my voice turns, j and every tnind within its reach, if it sounded j to the utmost confines of the confederacy, j would turn to the memory of the bland, the chaste, the virtuous, the accomplished, the dis tinguished Marshall. Entering the public service in a military capacity and whilst yet a youth, he soon at- j traded the attention and won the confidence ( of the Commander-in-chief. The war ended —he was called in rapid succession to dis- 1 charge the functions of executive, legislative,! diplomatic and judicial offices. With avers; - ■ tility of talent, that adapted itself to every em-; ployment, and won distinction in every pursuit, lie yet reserved the proudest displays of his wonderful powers, for that more exalted sta tion, in which so large a portion of his life was expended. Learned as Hale —as Cato firm, as Aristides just,—he performed the grave duties of the highest legal tribunal of his country, with an ; ability, an integrity and a fidelity, which for more than one third of an entire century of j active employment, soared above the reach of party male volet*, ce, or of personal envy—leav ing to that country, in the results of his labors a splendid judicial system. Judge Marshall was perhaps the finest speci men of a republican Magistrate, which either, ancient or modern times have furnished. The • object ofasmuch and as profound a reverence, as has been rendered to any living man, hej retained to the latest moment ol his life, uh- 1 [corrupted by the manners, the morals or the; :fashions of courts, and unaffected by the! flatteries of the world, the Republican simplici ty of his character and deportment. When he descended from the bench, he left (behind him as belonging to it, and not to liim- Jself, all the insignia of official authority and importance—and lie tnit gled with the crowd, not only without any pretensions of superiority, but apparently tit all times, the very humblest man in it— so kind, that ignorance enjoyed his societv— so wise, that wisdom itself pro fitted bv his discourse. Blending in beautiful harmony, the vivacity of youth, and the digni-; tv of years, with an unimpaired taste for the pleasures of social intercourse, he possessed every quality', and habit and talent to make ' him, what in truth lie was—at once the orna ment and the pride of the parlor, the forum and the bench.” From the Southern Literary Messenger. EDUCATION. r BV A NATIVE VIRGINIA. [CONTINUED.] If we can be successful in these two objects —the discovery and development of the capa bilities of the mind —we shall have accomplish. \ ed our purpose. Education, so fur as the; assistance of the instructor may be required, ,is complete. We care not whether three ideas j have lieen communicated to the pupil during the process of his education, we have already seen, that if he is turned out with a mind j waked up to inquiry, and wi»h invigorated; powers, he needs nothing more to secure emi- j nent success in every department of knowledge.' The mind will then afterwards, go on of itsown! accord, unabated in its ardor, with ever in-j creasing powers —gathering wisdom from I every source, and pleasure from every object —no subject so barren as not to yield instruc tion—no situation so dull as not to afford plea- sure. What has just been said, we have no doubt, will appear self-evident to reflecting men, whose minds are not trammelled by the sys tems of modern philosophy. But such men have no idea of the error which exist on this subject, and which is the cause of so many failures in education. Is it not a matter of cjajmon remark, that (men who have most upon their education, seldom come up to expectation ; and that self-educated men are always the best scholars, the wisest men, and the ablest states men ? What is the cause of this ? Is there [ not an error somewhere ? Can education be an evil rathei than a good? The truth is, that the object of education is entirely misunderstood. Even when it is well known, there is net one in five hundred who can accomplish it. Even wh ut it is well known there is not one in five hundred who cun ac complish it. An instructor may know, that to unfold the powers of the mind ought to be the object of his efforts, but lie may not have the ability nor the skill to accomplish it. It is a much easier tusk to convey knowledge than C. R. IIANILETER, printer. to waken up and develop the sleeping, infant powers of the mind. Such a task requires more than ordinary patience and gentleness of; temper —more than ordinary skill in the management of wayward youth—more than - ordinary knowledge of all the workings and combinations of the mind, both intellectual and moral. Many a teacher is capable of giving valuable instruction on every science—who! utterly fails in the more important part of his j undertaking—the devejopernent of the powers! or capabilities of the mind. Hence, whatever may be their theory, they' all net as if they considered the tnind a mere passive receiver, and that their business was to pour into it as much matter-of-fact information as possible. The consequence lias been ruinous. Young people go to shool, to the colleges—aye, to the universities, too, and alter a few years sojourn they come home finished scholars—have studied this science and that science—in fact, have glanced at all the sciences—but, in the meanwhile, the mind itself was never thought of. Its powers were never wakened up to inquiry, nor imbued with a love of knowledge. It was never taught to reduce its acquisitions to their original elements and make them a part of its own constitution—like the worm which feeds upon a plant, until it acquires the same color, and almost the same consistency of the plant itself. Oh! that this were the process of education —but far otherwise is the truth. What they learn is by the aid of the teacher alone with but slight mental effort on their part. The pupil becomes a mere in tellectual baby, carried along in the arms pf his kind instructor. And, like all other babies, spoiled by too much nursing, he can do noth ing, or will do nothing, without help. Who has not seen a great chubby boy drop down in the road and begin to bellow, whenever the nurse tries to make him walk for himself? Just so with the intellectual baby—so soon as he leaves the school and the teacher, his mind sinks down into activity ; the knowledge he has acquired passes away ; and finally the youth comes into life a sorry scholar, and a useless man. Such is the education acquired at most of our colleges—often have we seen a noble mind utterly ruined by its process. If a youth makes himself a scholar, it is not by the aid of his education, but in spite of it. College education has become a by-word and j a reproach. A diploma, so Tar from being aj recommendation, is looked upon rather as an object of suspicion. It has become a common proverb, when a man knows nothing about a thing, to say that he knows as little about it*a* i a graduate about Greek. If the education of colleges be so bad—what is the condition of our schools and academies ? Take the self-educated man, how different the process by which his character is formed —raised in poverty, perhaps without a friend -a poor journeyman in a workshop—a plough boy in the fields—or a herdsman on the lonely mountain top. Humble as he may be, he feels unearthly emotions in his bosom. His ear listens to a heavenly harmony that fills him with more than wonted rapture. He looks with a “ peculiar eye” on the going forth of nature. He holds communion with his own thoughts. He breathes a wish and feels a hope that he may rise above the common level | of mankind, achieve honor for himselfand glory for his countiy. In the spirit of pooiJJurns; lie can say: I mind it wee!, in early date, When I was beardless, young and blatc, An’ first could thresh the barn ; E’en then a wish, (I mind its power,) A wish that to my latest hour Shall strongly heave my breast; That I for poor auld Scotland’s sake, Some usefu’ plan, or book could make, Or sing a song at least. When he can no longer resist these aspira tions of iiis heart, he boldly determines to brave every difficulty, and venture forth in quest of knowledge and renown. But now comes the toil and the strife. Obstacles rise on every ( hand. llis course becomes intricate and con- j fused, lie finds no nrnt on wjiich to lean— no kind mentor to guide him in the right path. He must grope in darkness, and grapple with difficulties, until he finds the right way lor him. self-—and then he must climb the steep assent of knowledge by h!s own unaided efforts. No companion to cheer his solitary way, nor point the beauties of the landscape. But these very difficulties make the man. With such a man the mind is not a passive thing, but an active agent —all is powers are wakened up and made to put forth their utmost strength—they be come vigorous by self-exertion —the mind feels [ the presence and the power of greatness—it travails in its own strength, and with a giant’s hound leaps every obstacle. Need we pursue this subject farther, in or der to show that the object of education has been entirely misunderstood ? After what has already been said, will it excite surprise when we declare that the business of an instructor is not to teach the scholar, hut to learn him toj teach himself?—not to tote him, but to lead him? Will it be culled extravagance, whenj we say that the least aid a teacher gives to ai scholar the better? It may then be asked,| where is the use of a teacher? If the scholar; is to do all for himself, surely it is an unne- ( cessary expense to procure a teucher. We answer, that a teacher possessing the charac-1 ter just described, is of immense importance—j the worth caunot be calculated. If he does j nothing more than to feircetho scholar to rely on his own resources, and not on the help of; otlicrs.hc has done more than all vour plodding. | mutter-d'-fact teachers have done since the j foundation of the world. Surely there can be no need of argument to prove this^—it is tire very principle on which all nature operate*. Does not the mother lead her little toddling child-into the floor —then gently withdraw the finger and leave the child to totter along lor itself? Sliould it fell, ooes she not raise it to make another trial, until by repe; ted efforts, and repeated fdls, it acquires strength in its limbs and confidence in its own powers ? Does not the molher-bird takeout lier newly fledged young' upon her wing—then drop it it mid air to flutter and fly f<>r itself? We repeat, therefore, that reason and nature tells us, that the main business of the instruc tor is to unfold the powers —to strengthen them bv forcing the child to self-exertion—an ! to create a confidence in his own powers and resources by teaching the scholar to rely on no other aid save his own. When this task is accomplished, there still remains an important part for the skilful teach er to perform. When the powers of the mind have been once awakened and kindled with an enthusiastic love of knowledge, the instructor must then act as a guide to his pupil—employ his powers upon useful subjects—restrain him from improper indulgencies, and encourage him in the severe toil of mental labor. When a child has just learned to walk, the restless activity of his limbs is perpetually leading him into danger ; he must Lie constantly watched to be kept out of danger. So when the mind is first properly developed, its restles.- curiosity becomes impetuous—it leads him to search for pleasure and gratification wherever it may be found, regardless of the consequences—then comes the interesting and responsible part of [ the teacher’s duty—better not unfold and strengthen the powers of the mind than to do it for evil purposes —better not unfold them at all than to guide them impro i erly after wards. The teacher who understands the profession which lie has undertaken, can communicate the elements of knowledge in the shortest and the most effectual way. And at the same time that he is communicating the imperishnhle principles of knowledge, he is strengthening the powers of the mind. Let us illustrate this principle by example. Take arithmetic—the most elementary branch of mathematics. As commonly taught, it is of very little practical advantage, and no im provement whatever to the mind. Scholars are made to commit certain rules to memory, and solve problems mechanically by these rules, without ever seeing the necessity or the reason of the rule. Ask them why they do a sum one way rather than another—their an swer is, the rule says so. But why does the rule say so ? Do you see no reason ? No, sir ! the rule says I must work so and so, and the answer will come. But why, I don't know. 4 ; . NO. 40. Now vvliat possible good can come of such instruction ? When the young man quits his school, and forgets his rule, (as he must, for he saw no reason in it,) he can no longer cipher, lie must then begin, after his youth has been squandered away, to make on arithmetician of his own, or be content to live in ignorance the balance of his days. What improvement has it been td his mind ? He has committed the multiplication table to memory, and practised his fingers on the slate—and that is ail. The reason of things were never dreamed of by him nor his teacher. The Automaton Chess player can give as good a reason for the move which he makes on the board, as our hopeful scholar can give for his rule—although he has ciphered through and through the whole of I’ike ! Now, we ask, if this is not ti.e way in which arithmetic is generally taught ? It is ! much the easiest way—the pupil will make a much greater show of progress, and a greater parade at an examination, which is the main object (sorry to say) of most teachers. Is arithmetic ever taught asa science, based upon reason and the necessity of things ? Is not every thing communicated to the mind of the pupil, arbitrary and constrained ? And is it not a consequence that young men spend years at arithmetic, and after all, are not ablo to solve a problem which varies a hair’s breadth from some rule to which they have been accus. turned ? How different is the course pursued by the skilful and the conscientious teacher. 110 does nothing for which he caunot give a rea son perfectly satisfactory to the youngest mittd He begins with the pears and apples of the child—makes him add, subtract, multiply, and divide among his little brothers and sisters— the whole matter is brought down to his senses —he is made to see the reason of every pio cess, and to give his full assent to every princi ple. The mathematical powers of the maid are thus unfolded.-a habit of mathematical reasoning acquired. And the pupil is carried on. step by step, until he can solve the most difficult problems bv the force of his own reasoning alone, without the help of any arbi. trary rule. He knows no rules—he wants none. He would not confuse his mind with them. He has learned principles, simple and imperishable. lie has cultivated his faculty of mathematical reasoning ; and you had just as well attempt to destroy the mind itself as his capability of mathematical calculations-.-for this capability is one of the constituent parts of the mind itself. By this means not only the soundest knowl edge is communicated; but it is communicated in the shortest time. In every science there are a few fundament tal principles ; which when stript of all circum stances, become plain and almost self-evident truths. An active and vigorous mind cau seize them at once. And a knowledge of these principles is all that such a mind requires—it can run out the details for itself whenever oc casion may require. For instance, when the principle on w hich the multiplication table is formed, is once thoroughly understood by the scholar, the druggery of committing the luble to memory may be dispensed with- -by prac tice he will soon be able tj> multiply all sums under twelve or filteen without resorting to a table for the purpose—hence, when the mind has been first prepared and the seed or first elements of knowledge sown, the native pow. ers of the mind acting on these elements will do the rest—just as tlie husbandman has only to prepare the soil, sow tlie seed, and leave the rest to nature. Let us illustrate this important principle by another example. Music, us generally taught, is a worthless thing. The pupil is made to learn a few tunes mechanically on some instru jnont. The fingers and the musical memory