rs or limbs, sometimes without cranium or proper brain.
They name this result one of 'arrest of development.' Is it not barely
possible that our studies and recitations are yet in general so
mal-adapted to the habitudes of the tender brain and opening faculties
of childhood, as not merely often to allow, but even to inflict on the
intellectual and moral being of the child a positive arrest of
development? And if it be possible, what question can take precedence of
one concerning the means of averting such a mischief? Pestalozzi
intuitively saw and deeply felt the existence of this evil in his day,
when, we may admit, it was somewhat more glaring than now. But Mr.
Spencer truly characterizes Pestalozzi as, nevertheless, 'a man of
_partial_ intuitions, a man who had occasional flashes of insight,
rather than a man of systematic thought;' as one who 'lacked the ability
logically to co-ordinate and develop the truths he from time to time
laid hold of;' and, at the same time, he accredits the great modern
leader with a true idea of education, 'the due realization of [which]
remains to be achieved.' How doubly important every rational attempt to
achieve such realization--every well-considered effort to improve the
method of the studies and the lessons--becomes but too apparent when we
note the early age at which, as a rule, pupils must leave the schools,
and the consequent brief space within which to evoke the faculties and
to establish right intellectual habitudes. As an illustration drawn from
the cities, where of course the school period is soonest ended, take the
incidental fact disclosed by Mr. Randall in the New York School Report,
that in that city the course of studies must be so framed as to allow of
its completion, with many, at the preposterously early age of _fourteen
years_--really the age at which study and mental discipline in the best
sense just begin to be practicable!

In all directions, in the educational world, we are struck with the
feeling and expression of a great need, though the questions as to just
what it is, and just how to be met, have not been so distinctly
answered. Let us agree with Mr. Currie, that 'Practical teaching can not
be learned from books, even from the most exact "photographing" of
lessons: it must be learned, like any other art or profession, by
imitation of good models, and by practice under the eye of a master.'
Yet it is true, however paradoxical the statement may appear, that
pr