he mind,
frequently repeated by the infant, gradually communicate to it a
consciousness of mental power, and enable him more and more easily to
wield it. Every such instance of the reiteration of an idea,--of the
voluntarily exercise of active thought,--strengthens the powers of the
mind, so that he is soon able to look at and follow with his eyes other
objects, although they are much less conspicuous than the glare of a
candle.

When we examine the matter a little farther in regard to infants, we
perceive, that all the little arts used by the mother or the nurse, to
"amuse the child," as it is called, are nothing more than means employed
to excite this reiteration of ideas by the mind. A toy, for example, is
presented to the infant, and his attention is fixed upon it. He is not
satisfied with passively seeing the toy, as he sees all the other
objects in the room, but he actively looks at it. Nor is this enough;
the toy is usually seized, handled, mouthed, and turned; and each
movement prompts the mind to active thought,--to reiterate the idea
which each of the sensations suggests. These impressions are no doubt
rapid, but they are real; and each of them has been reiterated,--actively
thought of,--before they could either be received, or remembered; and it
is only by these impressions frequently repeated, in which the mind is
vigorously and delightfully engaged, that it acquires that activity and
strength which we so frequently witness in the young.

At a more advanced period during childhood and youth, we find the
cultivation of the mind still depending upon the same principle. It is
not enough that numerous objects be presented to the senses of the
pupil; or that numerous words or sounds be made to vibrate in his ears;
or even that he himself be made mechanically to utter them. This may be
done, and yet the mind may remain perfectly inactive with respect to
them all:--Nay, experience shews, that during such mechanical exercises,
his mind may all the time be actively employed upon something else.
There must therefore, not only be a hearing, or a reading of the words
which convey an idea, but he must make the idea his own, by thinking it
over again for himself. Hence it is that mental vigour is not acquired
in proportion to the number of pages that the pupil is compelled to
read; nor to the length of the discourses which are delivered in his
hearing; nor to the multiplicity of objects placed before him. It is
found en