The reading lesson was Pinckney's Evergreens, in the Common Place Book.

When summer's sunny hues adorn
Sky, forest, hill, and meadow,
The foliage of the evergreens,

In contrast seems a shadow.

But when the tints of autumn have
Their sober reign asserted,

The landscape that cold shadow shows
Into a light converted.

Thus thoughts that frown upon our mirth
Will smile upon our sorrow,

And many dark fears of to-day,

Will be bright hopes to-morrow.

Mr. Alcott asked; what is the subject? Evergreens. Whose thoughts are these? Pinckney's. What are evergreens? Plants which are green all the year. Have you seen any, in any house or church, lately? Yes, in the Episcopal churches. Can evergreens be made to mean any thing? There was no answer, and he added; I suppose there is nothing in the external world, but it will suggest to us some thoughts. Before we observe what thoughts Pinckney has on evergreens, let us think what evergreens suggest to us, What do you think they teach you about death? They thought evergreens rather taught about life, and the soul which lasts forever, than death. Mr. Alcott remarked that neither Mr. Pinckney or the evergreens were here; the question is, how can we get thoughts about the evergreens from his mind? By his words, they said.

There was a noise. Mr. Alcott turned to the boy that made it, and said that the greatest and most powerful things made no noise. Did you ever hear the sun make a noise? There was immediately a profound stillness.

Then the class read the lesson, each one reading the whole; and so did Mr. Alcott. He asked which they liked best, the descriptive or the reflective part? One boy said the descriptive; the rest, that the reflection at the end was most interesting. He asked if any of them in looking at outward objects, as Mr. Pinckney did in this instance, were conscious of reflections like these? Some of them thought they were. He asked them where they lived most, in the outward world, or in the inward world of thought and feeling? Various answers were given, one thought she

was growing to live in the inward world, more and more every day. Mr. Alcott asked if they knew any one who lived a great deal in the inward world? They said yes; and he said he also knew a man who lived a reflective, spiritual, inward life, more than almost any other; and yet he seemed to enjoy the outward world more than other persons, who lived in it exclusively; and when he spoke, he gave the most beautiful descriptions of whatever was outward. How was that? It was because his mind was in harmony, (and he felt its harmony,) with the outward world. They guessed he was speaking of a certain individual whom they named, which led to some anecdotes concerning him. I told them of a remark this individual once made, on hearing a lady sing after the interval of a year, when he perceived that his pleasure in hearing music was increased, although the acuteness of his hearing was diminished. And an analagous remark which he made, on seeing a cast of the Venus, six years after seeing the original. Both of these remarks were calculated to prove that the improvement of the mind could more than counterbalance the decay of the senses, in giving us the perception of beauty in forms and sounds.

When the reading and conversation were over, Mr. Alcott called on the children to paraphrase the two first verses of this poetry; and to paint out in their minds distinctly the two pictures, of summer evergreens, dark in the midst of gorgeousness; and of autumn evergreens, bright amid the wintry landscape. He then asked them if they had ever experienced the change of the aspect of a thought under different circumstances? This question required a good deal of illustration and explanation, especially as they are hardly old enough to have experienced much of this change. He afterwards paraphrased the piece himself, but said he had not done it well. He told them they might all turn round and write a paraphrase themselves.

Mr. Alcott then took the class in the Child's Arithmetic, and asked the first boy to read the first question, and answer it, which he did. (All of them had the books, in which there were questions without answers.) He went round the class, calling on each to read and to answer the questions one after another.

After this lesson, he told these little boys to put down

their arithmetics and take their Franks, and then he told those who had been attending to the grammar exercise to turn round in their places and take their Franks also. It was now one o'clock, and many of the children had leave from their parents to go home, and, consequently lost this lesson.

He commenced the parsing lesson by making them analyse the first sentence, and put the words into the grammatical classes, and he put the words down on the black board as they suggested. Verbs and participles were classed together under the head of actions. Pronouns were called substitutes; nouns were called objects; prepositions were called relations; adverbs and adjectives were called qualities; adverbs of time were set aside without any name. He explained prepositions thus: He asked what relation a book that he held in his hand had to a bunch of pens on the table. They said over. Having asked a dozen such questions, he showed them that they gave prepositions for the answers every time. He then referred to their books and made them tell what relations the prepositions in the passage before them denoted. He asked them about the word the, and finding they did not know how to class it, it was passed over. The word cottage in cottagegarden, was placed properly among the qualities.

This was the same passage which the larger part of the class had been arranging on their slates, while the arithmetic and the reading of poetry had been going on.

ous.

After this was over, he asked if any one in school thought he required of them too much self-control. One boy held up his hand, but immediately after, he said he was not seriMr. Alcott said he should be obliged to have a talk with him on the sin of not being serious; he being the oldest boy in school, and often doing this foolish thing of holding up his hand when he meant nothing. He made several personal observations to individuals, to whom he had been obliged to speak, for fidgetty movements, &c.asking them if they understood what he wished of them. His object in this was merely to bring out into their conceptions, his wishes, as he supposed there was no intentional, but only thoughtless irregularity.

January 2d. I arrived at the school-room this morning,

at nine o'clock, and found some of the children at their journals, and some writing the spelling lesson as usual. But a large proportion of the pupils were tardy. This is unavoidable with such young pupils, in mid-winter; especially as the habits of Boston people are not for very early breakfasts. The children seem to come as soon as breakfast is over.

There is one study, which is pursued at home; this is Geometry. And I hear the lessons, when any are learned, as soon as I arrive in the morning; going to the seat of each one separately, and then explaining the next lesson, for them to learn at home.

One or two children spoke as they came in this morning, and Mr. Alcott sent them out, to come in quietly. He chooses that they shall come into school in perfect silence, and take their lessons without a whisper to one another; and this is generally effected, without his being obliged to send any one out. It is very important to the quietness of a school, that the children should not begin to play in the morning. If all intercommunication is forbidden until they are fairly interested in their lessons, much trouble is prevented.

During the first hour, Mr. Alcott says as little as possible, that he may not interrupt the study and journals. A boy came in, who had been absent some days; and Mr. Alcott said, his next neighbor could, without speaking, show him the place. His neighbor said, "he ha'nt got no spelling book," which of course did not pass without revision by Mr. Alcott. Mr. Alcott then stepped out, remarking before he went, that he presumed that they would be equally quiet as when he was here. Some were ; but about half the school whispered and made signs, or took playthings out of their pockets. One boy left his seat, and was out of it when Mr. Alcott came in, who asked him what he was up for? He acknowledged that he went to ask a question quite extraneous to the school. Some conversation ensued on faithfulness.

At quarter before ten, Mr. Alcott took the smaller division of the class, and heard them pronounce and spell their lesson. As it had some hard words in it, though they were of one syllable, he made them each spell every word. Mr. Alcott was sometimes interrupted by the boys, at their seats, drumming with their pencils; and he stopped and

spoke to them. He had some difficulty, too, in hearing some of his class who spoke low, and it took a little longer than usual to hear this division.

At quarter past ten, the class turned in their seats very quietly. Two boys who are deaf were moved next to Mr. Alcott. Mr. Alcott asked them all if they were willing to bear any degree of cold they might have to bear during the next hour, as a lesson in self-control; two boys, and especially the second, seemed to doubt about cultivating the virtue of self-control. The second boy was reminded of Him who came into the world to suffer and die for the sake of others, which made so much impression on him, that when told, with a few of the older boys who had the coldest seats, to go and sit by the stove, he did not go. He had just expressed some contempt of learning self-control; but the recollection of Jesus Christ seemed instantly to change his mind. I took this occasion to observe to him that he had begun to feel the saving power of Jesus Christ for the way in which Christ saves the soul, is, that he saves it from self-neglect, and wrong-doing, by his noble and beautiful example; and, therefore, a boy who changes his mind, as soon as he thinks that his opinion or feeling is contrary to Christ's character, has begun to be his disciple. Nothing is more delightful than to see a child making an effort to become a disciple; because Christ, when he was upon earth, said that children were of all human beings most fit for that conformity to him, which is the kingdom of Heaven; and that no grown up persons could be so, till they had turned back into the state of children; since, therefore, they are already in a state which can go to him, why should they not go? This observation was made aside.

Mr. Alcott asked the oldest boy what word should be discussed first; for we should not have time for all. He said "oath." Each scholar gave his own definition, and seemed to confound profane swearing with oaths in a court of justice. A great deal of conversation arose upon the obligation of oaths, and the sin of profane swearing. He asked if any of the boys present ever swore ? About a dozen of them held up their hands. After a good deal of talk, and an apparently general resolution not to swear