The ultimate foundations of Political Economy lie deeper than the strata on which existing systems have been reared. The point of divergence between the present science, and the true science lies farther back than ordinary inquiries extend. The Economist of the future must begin at the beginning of all knowledge and, with Socrates, pass through the portal from which diverge the various paths of scientific, inquiry, and over which the master has written "Tv91 σɛavtór." Self knowl edge is the beginning of every science, but it is, likewise, the middle and the end of a science which treats of the activities of man, and of the social organism of which men are members.

ARTICLE VI.-WHAT CONSTITUTES SUCCESSFUL TEACHING IN COLLEGES ?

TO INSTRUCT under all conditions involves substantially the same imparting powers in the teacher and receptive capacities in the scholar. But the age and progress of young men at the period of their pupilage in the college separates them from the rigid discipline of the schoolmaster, and the entire freedom allowed in professional study. Moreover, students are at this time in their transition stage, and the education they receive, more than any other, shapes their destiny. For these reasons the instruction and government suited to this period have a distinct individuality, which it is now proposed to consider.

Undoubtedly the most efficient method of influencing others is by enlisting their sympathy. So long as access to their real nature is denied, it is scarcely possible to direct them for good or evil; for there must be communication between man and man before they can unite in any common work. Unless this be effected, their energies will be directed to different ends, though they be compelled to act together. This is the case preeminently between teacher and pupil; since the idea of education is that one person shall be able to direct not merely the action, but the thoughts of another. It is plain that this cannot be done unless each comprehends the motives of the other, and there be that confidence in the superior wisdom of the instructor which will justify his acceptation as a safe guide. While the feeling of confidence should be mutual, the guiding mind exercises it consciously, and must put himself en rapport with the nature to be taught; but the latter unconsciously opens to receive the influence. No man is fit by nature to be a professor unless he loves young people, and takes pleasure in the constant display of that brightest flower the earth has ever seen, the bloom of youth. Hence he must never grow old in heart, or forget his own bright days when the sun shone gloriously upon the world, and made it seem full of beauty. And with this memory must be preserved the consciousness that he,

too, in his day, was just as spirited, thoughtless, and overflowing with mischief, as the animated group which sits before him. Nor is this enough. He must earnestly desire them to be happy, and make it a daily study to render their youth as bright and joyous as this life of toil will allow. Life's high noon will come soon enough, and with it so much of care that youth should be made happy, since it can come but once. The teacher's object must always be, not to repress nor freeze to death these buoyant spirits, but to direct them into the proper channels. For it will not do to destroy any real power; it is too precious and should all be utilized. If he can show a lively sympathy in the welfare of his pupils; that his object, even when it becomes necessary to repress the exuberance of spirits, is not to abridge any innocent pleasure, but to seek their highest good; and can supplement this by culture to insure confidence in his superior wisdom to direct, his task henceforth is easy. For by this beginning his pupils are led to consider him, first of all, in the light of a friend, whose constant aim is their welfare; and when this understanding is secured between them, the way is open to enlighten the understanding and mould the moral character.

Without love for pupils and intense enjoyment in student life, an appetite as keen in the looking on as in personal experience, there can be but little effected by an instructor, however intellectual and accomplished. He may rule by force of will, and his severity be tolerated because of respect for his talents and acquisitions; but unless he communicates with the heart, he can never fully enlist the intellect in his service.

There is no time in the history of young men when they so much need sympathy as when they enter college. This is usually their first distant or protracted removal from the home of their childhood. Hitherto the youth has been considered merely a boy in the household; now, at once, he is treated as a man; he is alone in a strange place; with no new ties formed and all the old ones broken and bleeding. At such a time words of sympathy make a lasting impression, and inspire the soul with new courage. There are more young men broken in spirit, and thereby precluded from obtaining the culture of college, during the first month of their separa

tion from home, than the four years which remain. It may be said sneeringly, that it is only weaklings who need such coddling; and that home-sickness is a disease which is unmanly. With such a view we have no patience. Every young person having a good home should feel deeply the separation from it; and if he does not there is something lacking in his nature. He may be stern and too proud to give way to what he terms weakness. But sternness and pride are not all the qualities necessary to form a perfect character. Sensibility and gentleness can effect much more happiness, both for him who exercises them and those who are their objects, than indifference and harshness. Besides, the possession of these gentler qualities is not inconsistent with the greatest firmness of purpose and steadfastness of character. On the contrary, they are always found in the highest types of human nature. "The perfect gentleman is he who unites the tenderness of a woman with the courage of a man." While we can be children but once in age; while we can never, when once dissevered from the home circle, reënter and incorporate fully with it; still the more of childhood's frankness we retain through after life, and the more of that precious savor of home we bear with us everywhere, the more "sweetness and light" will we diffuse in our pathway. Hence, if at the time when students meet as strangers, there can be a gentle word said, or a sympathetic glance bestowed by the instructor, many a sad heart will be relieved by the assurance that all true friends have not been left behind. If some are independent enough not to need this sympathy, still it will gain access to their confidence sooner than coldness or harshnesss. For all classes of men are more easily led than driven.

It seems a truism to say that no man can govern others who cannot control himself. Yet the lack of this ability is the origin of more failures in professional instruction than all other deficiencies combined. To teach requires a calm, collected mind, undisturbed by passion, not disconcerted by opposition, not disquieted by confusion. To perform the purely intellectual part of his duty, he must be self-contained, so as to rise superior to all efforts made to throw him off his balance. But his work is, also, to cultivate the heart; and

hence he must not be offended in anywise by the treatment received from his charge. If they needed neither government nor instruction his occupation would be gone; and to the degree that the pupil is captious or uncivil, to the same degree should his guide be able to oppose an example of quiet, gentle, dignity. The faithful discharge of duty with uniform courtesy of manner, allowing the looks to speak rather than the lips, are a powerful means of culture. If there be any place where, more than all others, the reliance upon "Words, words, words," is fatal, it is in the professor's chair. Yet this is the universal resort with all men when they lose their self-possession; and the teacher is often tempted to try their efficacy. For, in every company of young men there are some who are ugly tempered and uncivil by nature-though these are the exceptions. Others are puffed up with conceit, and do not readily brook control. No matter how rigid the spirit of discipline be in any institution, there are a thousand ways in which the professor's rights, and the proprieties of the place, may be encroached upon with the purpose to annoy. Two methods of dealing are possible, provided self-control be complete. One is by force of character shown in severity, and thereby to crush out all opposition by summary punishment. In this case fear is all that controls. Of course this is far better than not to rule at all. For if anarchy in the State is worse than any uniform species of government, however tyrannical, much more is this so when the object of rule is to give opportunity for instruction, since this is wholly dependent on systematic good order. Some natures can govern by no other method than force; but for those who are not shut up to this there is a more excellent way. The greatest firmness is entirely consistent with the most affectionate kindness. And when we consider that the task is not merely to enlighten the intellect, but to make the heart better; and through this combined culture to form the character for life's work, it is of far more consequence that the instructor be loved than feared. Undoubtedly a combination of the two is desirable, in consequence of the diverse natures of the pupils which call for the exercise of both qualities. It is seldom, however, that a man effects any good result by the exhibition of anger. If there be brute natures which can be