7

comfort. By degrees these sounds become more
varied; they seem to be an exercise of the voice;
a sort of purring noise with which the infant
amuses himself.
- perhaps a confused imitation
of the sounds he hears around him.

Not yet able to distinguish inanimate from living objects, these soft murmurs are sometimes addressed to a bright metal button; sometimes to a mirror lighted up by the rays of the sun; he seems to tell them how beautiful they are, and how much pleasure they afford to his newly awakened sight; sometimes he utters shrill, but joyful screams, as if to attract their attention. Still, however, there is no real language; at least if we understand by language a means, voluntarily employed, of exercising influence. The infant asks for nothing, calls for no one, and expects no effect to be produced by his tones.

Cries are the true language of infancy. At first they are uttered instinctively, in obedience to that law of nature, which impels us to pour out our sorrows in this manner. But when these sorrows have been often relieved, and this expression of them has become associated in the mind of the infant with the idea of that relief, it then becomes a real language. In the same manner have his animated gestures, and the action of stretching himself towards the object of his wishes, been at first involuntary, and afterwards become intentional; the transition from

one of these states to the other would be an interesting subject for observation.

The first words of children are, however, quite a different thing: while pronouncing them they are amusing themselves by the exercise of a particular faculty, that of attaching a vocal sign to an object; and they do this without being excited by any desire or any passion. If they see a dog, they directly call out its name (at least as near an attempt at it as they are able to articulate); but they do it merely for amusement, without any other motive, and without any feelings either of hope or fear. Were they afraid of the dog, they would scream out; did they want to see it nearer, they would stretch themselves towards it, and utter tones of impatience. But it is only in a state of tranquillity that they pronounce its name; the moment they are excited by any emotion, they leave off using words, which are to them a new and superfluous acquisition, and return to their true language cries and gesticulations. Words are to them at present an instrument of which they have still to learn the true use.

When nearly a year old, children begin to venture on their first tottering steps, and to lisp their first broken words. Dependent on all around for assistance, they possess, in a less degree than any other animal of the same age, the means of providing for their own safety; and

art is, to excite such an interest as may fix in the mind perceptions naturally transitory and fugitive; and to collect, and engrave on the memory, facts which may hereafter furnish points of comparison for the judgment. But facts cannot be impressed on the memory unless attention is given to them: the want of this attention, and the uncertainty thence arising in the mind, are the obstacles with which an instructor has most frequently to struggle. This would not be so generally the case, if the first impressions of children were clear and distinct. As soon, therefore, as we perceive their attention fixed on any object, we should carefully avoid disturbing them; every thing which excites their interest, or becomes the subject of their observation, assists in the developement of their intellect. At the same

time we must also be careful not to increase too much the intensity of simple material sensations by over exciting the feeble organs of children, we astound or stupify them; thus, shaking them violently, jumping them on the knee, or striking loudly on the table or window, are but so many rude and mechanical means, which cause the suspension of their cries only by paralysing their senses. A much better plan is to endeavour, as much as we can, to turn their attention from their own little griefs, by bringing into action their feelings or their

intelligence. Caress a dog or a cat before them, and you excite that sympathy which the youngest children always feel for animals. Show them some beautiful object, and make them examine it carefully; you will at once strengthen their attention, and awaken the feeling of admiration, one of the finest emotions of the mind. Give them engravings, or models of figures to look at, and you excite their imagination; in short, there are innumerable ways of rousing the awakening faculties. To vary, in moderation, the sensations of children, and to associate with these, as much as possible, the exercise of their moral feelings, forms, at this early age, the education of the intellect. There is, besides, an education of the heart, with which it is even more necessary that we should occupy ourselves as soon as possible, as the success of it depends on dispositions still more transitory and evanescent.

1 Br

CHAPTER III.

ON THE DISPOSITIONS TO BE CULTIVATED DURING THE FIRST YEAR OF INFANCY.

To cultivate good dispositions, to give them that stability and permanence which may entitle them to the name of qualities, and to raise these qualities to the rank of virtues by stamping them with the sacred seal of religion, such is the gradual progress of a good education, as it respects the formation of character.

In the first stage of infancy, our concern is with the dispositions alone; there are some which may be cherished at an age when it is not yet possible to repress any. Indeed, at every age, our best method of stifling or weakening evil inclinations is, to encourage the continual exercise of those that are good. The great secret of education is contained in that admirable precept of the Gospel, "overcome evil with good."

In order fully to understand the importance of the first year of a child's existence, both the power of education, and the limits of that power,