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" The queen
mature growth to strong reason; and last an idiomatical construction necessary to aand highest, let them be reduced to the void circumlocution, the sentence imputes subjection of moral law, by instruction the act to the thing beheld, the qualifyin the school-house, and from the pulpit, ing word must express the quality of the and by the fireside, when they come in thing spoken of adjectirely, instead of and when they go out, when they rise up qualifying the act of the nominative unand when they sit down, and upon all derstood, adverbially. What an adjecthe occasions of life.
tive is to a noun, an adverb is to a verb;
an adjective expresses the quality of a From Conversation and Its Graces.
thing, and an adverb the manner of an
action. Consider what it is you wish to VULGAR vs. GENTEEL BAD GRAMMAR.
express,—the quality of a thing, or the
manner of an action,--and use an adIt is amusing to observe the broad line
jective or an adverb accordingly. But of demarcation between vulgar bad gram- beware that you discriminate justly; for mar, and genteel bad grammar, which
though you cannot say, characterizes the violation of almost eve looked majestically in her robes,” bery rule of syntax. The vulgar speaker cause here the act of looking is performuses adjectives instead of adverbs, and ed by the spectator, who looks at her, says, “This letter is written shocking;"
you can and must say, “The queen lookthe genteel speaker uses adverbs instead sed graciously on the petitioner,” “The of adjectives, and says, “This writing queen looked mercifully on his prayer," looks shockingly." The perpetrators of because here the act of looking is perthe latter offence may fancy they can formed by the queen. You cannot say, shield themselves behind the grammati- “These flowers smell sweetly,” because cal law which compels the employ- it is you that smell, and not the flowers; ment of an adverb, not an adjective, to but you can say, “These flowers perfume qualify a verb, and behind the first rule the air deliciously,” because it is they of syntax, which says that, “a verb must which impart the fragrance, not you.— agree with its nominative.” But which you cannot say, "This dress looks badis the nominative in the expression allu- ly,” because it is you that look, not the ded to? Which performs the act of look
dress; but you can say, “This dress fits ing-the writing or the speaker? To say badly," because it is the dress that perthat a thing looks when we look at it, is forms the act of fitting either well or ill. an idiom peculiar to our language, and,
There is another class of errors arising some idioms are not reducible to rules; from the use of the adverbial form of they are conventional terms, which pass certain words, instead of the adjective current, like bank notes, for the coin they form; or, he spoke loudly, more loudly, represent, but must not be submitted to
or most loudly, for loud, louder, or loudthe test of grammatical alchemy. It is est. The boy reads slowly, more slowly, improper, therefore, to say, “The queen or most slowly, for slow, slower, or sloulooks beautifully;” “The flowers smell est. Not a few teachers fall into this ersweetly ; " " This writing looks shock
ror, perhaps because they are more faingly;” because it is the speaker that miliar with the general rule that most performs the act of looking, smelling, &c., adverbs end in ly, than with the practice not the noun looked at; and though, by of good speakers and writers. There are
some peculiar idioms which it would be Lora. But can you say your prayers better to avoid altogether, if possible; at night, and ask God to bless you in the but if you feel compelled to use them, course you are pursuing ? take them as they are,—you cannot prune Myra. I don't say any prayers now. and refine them by the rules of syntax, Lora. That may be the reason why and to attempt to do so shows ignorance you love to do wrong. We learned in as well as affectation.
Watts that prayer would make us love
our studies, and pursue them more paFrom the American Messenger. tiently, and that we should be more likeTHE SCHOOL GIRLS.
ly to enjoy the blessing of God on our labors.
MYRA. "I can't endure Mr. J_," said My- hate the sight of the academy. I didn't
Well, I am tired of study. I ra to her schoolmate,
look at my lessons last night. I shall be LORA. Why, Myra, I am surprised to
glad when I have finished my education. hear you speak so unkindly of your teach
I can then go to balls and parties, and enI think he is a good man, and an ex
joy myseif. I don't wonder you love Mr. cellent teacher too. I like him; and I
J- ; he is always praising you, and try every way to show him that I love speaks kindly to you. to please bim. You don't consider that
LORA. And he would do the same to he reproves the girls for their good. He has a laborious time of it; not only does you, if your conduct was such as to de
serve it. But we will talk no more about he try to improve our ininds, but our mor
this matter now. As for me, I never exals and manners too. Myra. But he need not have so many
pect to finish my education. I see somerules to make us good. I can do well thing new to admire every day. The
I study, the more I feel my ignoenough without any rules. They don't make me any better. I break them eve
And when I can no longer attend
school, I shall admire to study the great ry day; but I take care that he don't see When I want to whisper, I raise my
book of nature—to cull the flowers--to desk lid. Sometimes I write on my slate,
examine the various classes of insect or a note, and pass it; but I was morti
creation—to view the mountain, the rivfied the other day, when he came and er, the water-fall, as well as the bright took the note I gave to Julia. I would shining orbs of night, and reflect that not have let him seen it for the world.
“ my Father made them all." LORA. You are mistaken, Myra. The rules are very simple, and easily obscrv- Sir Thomas BODLEY wrote to Lord Baed; and if they do not make you any bet-con: “Strain your wits and industry ter, it is your own fault. Now tell me, soundly to instruct yourself in all things Myra, candidly, do you feel happy at night between heaven and earth, which may after you have done wrong all day at tend to virtue, and wisdom, and honor; school? And do you think anybody will and let all these riches be treasured up, think the better of you for it ?
not only in your memory, where time MYRA. It used to trouble me, but not may ripen your stock, but rather in good
And as for others, "I don't care books of account, which will keep them what they think of me."
safe for your use hereafter."
CONQUERING BY KINDNESS.
“O, not much," said I. Well, off he
went to look, and estimated the damage I once had a neighbor-a clever man
to be equal to a bushel and a half of who came to me one day, and said, “Es-
“O, no," said I, “it can't be." quire White, I want you to come and get
“Yes," said the shoenaker, "and I your geese away.”
will pay you every cent of the damage.” “Why," says I, “what are my geese
The shoemaker blushed and went home. doing?"
The next winter, when we came to settle, “They pick my pigs' ears when they the shoemaker determined to pay me for are eating, and drive them away; and I
my corn. will not have it."
“No," said I, “I shall take nothing." "What can I do?" said I.
After some talk we parted; but in a "You must yoke them.”
few days I met him on the road, and we "That I have not time to do now," fell into conversation in the most friendly said I, "I do not see but they must run.'
But when I started on he seem“If you do not take care of them, I led loth to move, and paused. For a moshall,” said the shoemaker, in anger.
ment both of us were silent. At last he “What do you say, Esquire White ?"
said: "I cannot take care of them now, but
“I have something laboring on my I will pay for all damages.”
mind." 'Well,” said he, "you will find that
“Well, what is it?" a hard thing, I guess."
“Those geese. I killed three of your So off he went, and I heard a terrible
know squalling among the geese. The next
how I feel; I am very sorry." And the news was, that three of them were miss
tears came into his eyes. ing. My children went and found them
“0, well,” said I, “never mind; I terribly mangled and dead, and thrown into the bushes. “Now," said I, “all suppose my geese were provoking.”
I never took any thing of him for it; keep still, and let me punish him.” In
but when my cattle broke into his fields a few days the shoemaker's hogs broke
after this, he seemed glad, because he into my corn. I saw them, but let them
could show how patient he could be. remain a long time. At last I drove them
“Now," said I to my children, all out, and picked up the corn which they had torn down, and fed them with quer yourselves and you conquer with
kindness, where you can conquer in no it in the road; by this time the shoe
other way.” maker came up in great haste after them.
“ Have you seen any thing of my hogs?" inquired he.
EDUCATION. I have observed that most “Yes, sir, you will find them yonder, ladies who have had what is considered eating some corn which they tore down as an education, have no idea of an eduin my field.”
cation progressive through life. Having “In your field ?”
obtained finally a certain measure of ac“Yes, sir," said I, “hogs love corn, complishments, knowledge, manners, &c., you know; they were made to eat it." they consider themselves as made up,
" How much mischief have they done?" and so take their station—they are pic
WISCONSIN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION.
tures, which, being quite finished, are ceed in introducing those recommended now put in a frame—a gilded ong, if pos- by the State Superintendent. sible, and hung up in permanence of Most of our people acknowledge the beauty !-permanence, that is to say, till importance of education, and seem inold Time, with his rude and dingy fingers, clined to make the effort when they know soils the charming colors.-Foster.
what to do.
I feel that much good may be done by Ixonia, Wis., October 28, 1856.
the circulation of the Journal, and if the Journal of Education :-In accor- information which it contains will not dance with a request published in the elevate our primary schools, I do not Journal some time since, I send you a
know what will. statement of the condition of schools in
M. THAYER, Sup't of Schools. this town.
1st. I have no hesitation in saying that district boards, teachers and parents are
From RICHARD HOOKER._"If nature deeply interested in the welfare of our
should intermit her course, and leave alpublic schools. At the same time parents together, though it were but for a while, do not seem to know what they ought to the observation of her own laws; if those do. They think that if their children principles and mother elements of the attend school a few hours during the world, whereof all things in this lower week, the great work of educating them world are made, should lose the qualities will go on, without further trouble.—which now they have; if the frame of They forget that regularity of attendance the heavenly arch erected over our heads is absolutely essential to progress, and should loosen and dissolve itself; if celesthat to secure this, the teacher must have tial spheres should forget their wonted the hearty co-operation of parents.
motions, and by irregular volubility turn 2d. The teachers are tolerably well themselves any way as it might happen; qualified, and I think they are making if the prince of the lights of heaven, improvement. Their efforts are some
which now as a giant doth run his unwhat paralyzed by a want of co-opera- wearied course, should, as it were, thro' tion on the part of school officers and a languishing faintness, begin to stand parents. The branches taught in our and rest himself; if the moon should schools are the common English branches wander from her beaten way, the times and —those that fit our children to discharge the seasons of the year blend themselves their duties as citizens—but there is so by disordered and confused mixtures, much apathy that a large class are re- the winds breathe out their last gasp, the ceiving very little education. It seems clouds yield no rain, the earth be defeatto me that we need County Superinten- ed of heavenly influences, the fruits of dents to arouse the people to the impor- the earth pine away as children withered tance of better sustaining their schools. at the breasts of their mother, no longer I would also suggest that the time allow- able to yield them relief; what would ed by our library regulations for retain-become of man himself whom all these ing books should be extended. As yet things now do serve? See we not that we have not secured uuiformity of text the obedience of creatures unto the law books in our town; this we deem of the of nature, is the strength of the whole utmost importance, and we hope to suc-world?
Of law there can be no less acknow
ADDRESS ledged, than that her seat is the bosom Delivered before the Wisconsin Teachers' A880of God, her voice the harmony of the
ciation at its late meeting, by J. L. Pick
Fellow TEACHERS:- Another year has her power; both angels and men, and passed. Into its brief space have been creatures of what condition soever, each crowded joys and sorrows, conflict and in different sort and manner, yet all with triumph, or struggle and defeat. We consent, admiring her as the mother of have felt within us heart-leapir.gs as well their peace and joy."
as heart-sinkings. Sunshine and storm
have had each its appropriate place.From CARLYLE.—"All speech and ru
Prosperity has lightened, and adversity mor is short-lived, foolish, untrue. Gen- clouded our pathway. In short, we have uine work alone is eternal, as the Almigh-had another year's experience—teachers' ty Founder and World Builder himself
. experience. What is to be its result? There is a perennial nobleness, and ev
Shall past success make us careless, or en sacredness in work. Were he never
past defeat destroy ambition ? Shall not so benighted, forgetful of his high call- rather the spirit of the true teacher maning, there is always hope in a man that
ifest itself-success lead to new zeal, fire actually and earnestly woks; in idleness us for nobler conflicts, incite to higher alone is there perpetual despair
. The aims, and defeat even nerve us for more real desire to get work done, will itself untiring labors ? lead one more and more to truth; to na
“Let the dead past bury its dead” exture's appointments, which are truth.-cept so far as its remembrance may lead Blessed is he who has found his work;
to a new life. let him ask no other blessedness.
I repeat but the teachings of my own All true work is sacred : in all true experience, when I say to you, fellow work, were it but true hand-labor, there teachers, you have had trials. Bear with is something of divineness. Labor, wide
me while I speak a few moments of the as the earth, has its summit in Heaven.
trials of the teacher. These spring partLaborare est Orare; in a thousand senses,
ly from within and partly from without from one end to the other, true work is
ourselves. Of the former, the sources worship. He that works, whatsoever be are physical, mental and moral. Of his his work, he bodies forth the forms of physical trials, the teacher knows the things unseen ; every worker is a small least,'hence he does not realise how greatpoet.”
ly disease of body may magnify external
trials. In our willingness, in common Be There is no faculty of the mind with the whole human race, to find fault which can bring its energy into effect, un- with any one but ourselves, we are often less the memory be stored with ideas for tried beyond measure by the unruly conit to work on.
duct of our pupils, and fret, and perhaps
storm at that which has an existence onThe purest metal is made through ly within ourselves. We take to the the hottest furnace; the brightest thun-school-room a body unrefreshed by derbolt from the darkest storm. healthful exercise, and every twitch of