Improve Opportunities.

education which neglects to provide for this is sadly defective.

You are doubtless ready to assent to the truth of this, and are almost impatient to know how you shall do what you so strongly feel ought to be done. I can, of course, give you no specific and undeviating directions. I can merely give you a few hints. If your heart is alive to the true magnitude of the subject, these hints may be valuable; but if you have no deep and abiding interest in it, more full and definite directions would prove "like water spilled on the ground." In the first place I would say, avoid all set and formal lessons in moral science for young pupils. There is a fit time, and place, and manner in which to say and do things for the heart's good. Precisely when, where, and how these may occur, I cannot tell you; nor can any one. They must depend on circumstances, and these can be known only by yourself. It may be, at the opening of the school, during some recitation, on the play-ground, or after the close of the school. It may be, when God speaks in the thunder, smiles in the flowers, or blesses in the bounteous fruits. It may be in the school-room, by the wayside, or in the grove. At any time, in any place, and in many ways, there will be opportunities to reach the heart by the "still, small voice," uttered in tones of kindness and love. Seek every opportunity, and improve it.

But, if you would succeed in making any true and lasting impressions, you must yourself be a

An Instance.

living epistle," read and felt by your pupils. What you would have them become, you must be,· a bright and consistent example of all that is lovely and lovable. You must not only point to the right, but lead the way, and by your own cheering words and kindly acts lure the "little ones to follow you. You cannot force them to be good; you cannot scold them into the true path.

Sometimes it will be well for you to labor with individual pupils; but you may, more frequently, perhaps, make general application of your efforts. Boys sometimes err and do wrong without any premeditation, without realizing the nature of their doings. You may have several pupils guilty of the same fault in kind, if not in degree. In such case, some general remarks may best serve to accomplish the desired end. But at all times, and under all circumstances, you should strive to impress upon the hearts of your pupils a sense of their responsibility to a higher power. Lead them to feel, that, if they would be truly successful in eradicating their wrong habits, and resisting the temptations to sin, which will be sure to assail them, they must look to their Heavenly Father for guidance and support.

But let me suppose a case, one which may occur. You learn that during recess, upon the playground, two boys have been guilty of quarrelling. Their names are Peter and James. You call them to an account at the proper time; but not until all anger has subsided, and the boys have had time for reflection. We will suppose that the fol

The Teacher's Course.

lowing conversation takes place in presence of the school.

Teacher. "I am very sorry to know that you have been quarrelling. You have been guilty of a great wrong. You have not only wronged yourselves, but you have wronged me and the school; and, more than all, you have wronged your Maker, that good being who gives you all your blessings. I know not which commenced the wrong, but you are both guilty, and deserving of punishment." "He struck me first."

Peter.
James.

66 Well, he called me names. Teacher. "I understand; you have both done wrong, and you give no good reason for so doing; indeed, you cannot give any. Peter says James struck him first, and James gives as a reason for his wrong-doing, that Peter called him names. Both these acts were wrong, and the only excuse you give is, that each of you did wrong because the other did. If one is more guilty than the other, it is he who commenced the difficulty. Peter did wrong in calling names,' but in this he injured himself much more than he did James. Remember, my young friends, that, if some one calls you fools,' it will not injure you, unless you make yourselves such by foolish acts. Be right and act right, and no one can injure you half so much as you can injure yourselves by one wrong or foolish act. No other person has half the power to injure you that you have to injure yourselves."

With a few such general remarks as these, the

A Story.

subject may be left for the reflection of the offenders, who, at another hour, should receive a more private and particular direction. The main points in the general remarks should be to lead the pupils to see that it is no excuse for them to do wrong to others because others have done wrong to them; and also to cause them to feel that no one can injure them so much as they can injure themselves.

Within a year or two an excellent little book has been published, for the purpose of aiding the teacher in imparting moral instruction. It is entitled "Cowdery's Moral Lessons"; and I will give one or two of the stories, accompanying them with a few suggestive hints.

Let me suppose that you discover, on the part of some of your pupils, a wayward disposition, an inclination to disregard the wishes of their parents, - a feeling that they will not be under the control of any one, a sort of pride in showing that they will have their own way, regardless of the directions or wishes of their parents, a sort of an impression that it is humiliating to submit to any authority, and particularly that of a mother. Read to them the following story, and accompany it by such remarks as will readily suggest themselves as pertinent.

"I was sitting by a window in the second story of one of the large boarding-houses at Saratoga Springs, thinking of absent friends, when I heard shouts of children from the piazza beneath me.

"O yes! that's capital! so we will! Come on

True Courage.

now! there's William Hall!

Come on,

William!

we 're going to have a ride on the circular railway! Come with us!'

"Yes, if my mother is willing. I will run and ask her,' replied William.

"Oh! oh! so you must run and ask your ma! Great baby, run along to your ma! Aren't you ashamed? I didn't ask my mother.'

6

"Nor I,' Nor I,' added half a dozen voices.

"Be a man, William,' cried the first voice; 'come along with us, if you don't want to be called a coward as long as you live; don't you see we 're all waiting?'

"I leaned forward to catch a view of the children, and saw William standing with one foot advanced, and his hand firmly clenched, in the middle of the group. He was a fine subject for a painter at that moment. His flushed brow, flashing eye, compressed lip, and changing cheek, all told how the word 'coward' was rankling in his breast. 'Will he indeed prove himself one, by yielding to them?' thought I. It was with breathless interest I listened for his answer; for I feared that the evil principle in his heart would be stronger than the good. But no.

“I will not go without asking my mother,' said the noble boy, his voice trembling with emotion. 'I am no coward, either. I promised her I would not leave the house without permission, and I should be a base coward, if I were to tell her a wicked lie !'"