dreamy recollections. My attention was not diverted from the duties before me by intruding pictures of green woods, old bridges, grassy hills, and murmuring waters; and no pleasant voices haunted my ears but such as I could hear by walking around the corner. But now I have relapsed into my idle and troublesome propensities. While my body is in the office where I transact the little business which destiny has committed to my discretion, my soul is off upon some ramble over the hills, or engaged in other occupations which have no more to do with my "orders to show cause,' and my "notices of bail," than these interesting manuscripts with the gentle lights of heaven. It is also my misfortune to listen, with such thoughts as I need not enumerate, to all kinds of good music, particularly of the human voice; and this weakness sometimes assumes a very inconvenient, although ludicrous character. When I have heard a song which touches my fancy, my mind involuntarily falls into the measure, and long after the real music has died away the ghost of the tune attends upon my imagination, conjuring up apparitions of all the then accompanying persons and scenes. Sometimes it

takes such improper familiarities_with_my dignity and common sense, that, no matter where I happen to be, it leaps from my heart to my lips, so that I often astonish sober and unsinging people with gratuitous exhibitions of my musical abilities before I can rein in and get the harmonious fiend under any restraint. Thus, the other day, when one of my clients, a huge and uncouth worker in iron, as rough and hard as a mass of his own raw material, whiskers monstrous, and fist like a sledge hammer, asked me what would be the expense of obtaining a dischage on the application of himself and two thirds of his creditors under the revised statutes, I being in excellent voice, astonished the worthy petitioner by exclaiming in such melody as was at the moment floating in my mind," Come, away then, away then, my merry Swiss girl, to the fields bright with dew lightly stray." On another occasion a very interesting young lady, with a spruce little gentleman, who was soon to call her by the tenderest of names, waited upon me till I should finish a paper which she was to sign. I had no sooner, with an air of internal satisfaction, (for I was, in imagina

tion, at that very moment picking wild flowers at the foot of a hill,) put the concluding flourish upon the parch-ment, than, instead of desiring her, as in duty bound, to "have the kindness to attach her signature," I handed her the deed and pen, and requested her, in a fine low voice, to "Meet me by moonlight alone," to the amazement of my fair client, and the extreme horror of the enamored person in new broadcloth clothes by her side, who continued to regard me at a distance during the whole affair with looks of unequivocal distrust. And this is what people call "recruiting." I am not acquainted with the views of medical men upon the subject, but my own opinion is, that a few such recruiting excursions would cause very destructive work among my pleas and declarations. I fear the gods might make me poetical, for the other day I filed a stanza in the clerk's office instead of a præcipe for a capias, and never discovered my error till I took from my pocket what I imagined the lines alluded to, and instead of the lofty language of the bard, I read, at first with perplexity, and as the truth flashed upon me, with horror, Peter Thompson versus Charles Jones. Trespass. Damages, five hundred dollars. Capias issued, &c.

SCHOOLMASTERS.

It is a singular fact, that the most important of all employments has been, by common consent, at least in a great majority of instances, surrendered into the hands of men without regard to their literary or moral qualifications. No art is more difficult than that of educating children: none requires more preparation or mental advantages. The requisites of a good teacher are seldom found united. He should be naturally cheerful and affectionate; yet with the very difficult power of applying both his cheerfulness and his affections in a proper manner. He should be not only intelligent and quick, but eloquent and agreeable; for knowledge itself, however extensive and profound it may be, is nothing

to a teacher if unaccompanied by a facility in expressing his ideas in an easy, simple, and attractive discourse. He should not himself have been educated alone by books, but he should rather be one who combines wide and various information upon scientific and literary matters, with an experience of the world, and an understanding of human nature. He must possess acuteness in discriminating between all classes of character and shades of feelings. Without passion he should know how to be severe, and without weakness to be merciful. He must be able to perceive, among the varied dispositions under his care, that one is stupid, lazy, and vicious, and another bright, generous, and lovely; yet his feelings must be balanced so as to avoid partiality, lest he discourage the dull, and spoil the intelligent. He should be neat in his person, and gentlemanly in his manners; for his scholars will learn more by example in matters of a trifling nature, than by any ingenious conversation; and in addition, which perhaps is more important than all others, and without which they will be useless, he must be endowed by nature with an innate deep philanthropy, a glowing ardor, to add to the sum of human happiness, a warmth of heart, that shall not be chilled by labor or destroyed by avarice, leading him to an interest in the beings around him, that shall be visible in those trifles of life, which may not be numbered and put on paper; but by which he will gradually endear himself to all who can reason and feel.

How different is this from the reality. School teaching has been generally undertaken, not in accordance with the tastes, the habits, or the choice of the individual, but from necessity. Men who have never studied the beautiful philosophy of the human mind, and who, perchance, hate children and books, resort to the business of instruction as a temporary expedient to make money. They have not undergone any previous preparation. They have no permanent interest at stake, and, perhaps, care not at all whether or not they whom they thus carelessly undertake to instruct, realize any advantage from their efforts. Their attention is occupied with some distant enterprise, to which they mean to return as soon as their circumstances will permit. Sometimes they are fine fellows, and sometimes fools;

and it seems that parents have hitherto exercised but little discretion in determining the capacity of the person to whom they send their children. For this there is no excuse. Any one may be a schoolmaster, and any one will be sure of obtaining some patronage. An account in one of the papers, gives an estimate that there are thirty thousand of the fraternity in the United States. Upon an average, they have probably thirty scholars each. There will be then, nine hundred thousand children committed to their charge. It would be deeply interesting to parents, and to all who regard with hope the rising generation, to behold by some magical power all these collected together in the pursuance of their daily routine. What tyranny, passion, bigotry, and ignorance lurk about those little domains where gentleness, affection, and wisdom should preside! It has been said that no man can bear the consciousness of power without overstepping the limits of moderation. Without acceding to this assertion in its fullest extent, it is certain the continual habit of commanding would lead many into error, and the teacher of a school is most calculated to feel its influence. He rules over a crowd of helpless little beings, who have neither experience nor reason to guide their conduct. Many vexatious trifles must occur to tax his patience. Confinement and disappointment unite in exciting his temper; and though he who has crossed the Alps with Bonaparte, or gone with Mungo Park into the deserts of Africa, may smile at the sufferings of a schoolmaster, yet perhaps the one has as much need of uncommon perseverance, patience, and character as the other. But how few men possess these. And how few there are competent to conduct the delicate and philosophic operation of checking the wanderings of the heart, and opening the powers of the understanding. I received a visit the other day from a quack schoolmaster, for the purpose of obtaining my name to a long list of subscribers, among whom, as I glanced them slightly over, I observed those of some of our most respectable inhabitants. My friend was very sanguine of success, as his patronage was so great; and as his views of education professed to be something extraordinary, and altogether out of the common track, he favored me with his sytem. One of the first steps of a

pedagogue, when about to establish a school, is to proclaim a new system. Some "royal road" up the difficult steep of science is continually appearing before us, whereby the arts and sciences may be taught in a given number of lessons; the dull are to be miraculously inspired, and the brilliant ripened into precocious maturity. The pupil, without any effort, is to be initiated into the profoundest mysteries of learning. A few lessons perfect him in French-he learns dancing from the perusal of a little book-with the assistance of a set of beads he masters arithmetic in a few weeks-and passes an examination in history and geography by means of a painted puzzle. The gentleman in question was a writing master. He had adopted his profession after having abandoned several others. He was originnally a native of Gibraltar, where he learned to speak Spanish and English with fluency. Some nameless revolution drove him to the western world, where, after innumerable peregrinations, he rested in New York. His debut before our public was made in the capacity of a grocer; but, at the end of a year, his landlord seized his goods for rent, and kicked him out of the house for reasons best known to himself. He next appeared in one of our neighboring theatres, as "Richard the Third;" but a tolerably numerous audience having hissed him with a singular unanimity of opinion, he threw up his claim to dramatic excellence and cast around his eyes for a more auspicious occupation. Some knowing one now hinted that he had better establish a school, and our hero hastened to assume his vocation. He, therefore, issued a prospectus, modestly proposing to excel any thing that ever had been, or could be done in the way of teaching, and will, very likely, before a year has elapsed, be the proprietor of a celebrated academy, and by parading the prodigious effects of "his system" before the long tried credulity of our "bank note world," will ruin the few deserving candidates for public support, whose modesty has relied with too much confidence upon actual merit.

"My system," said my friend, placing himself before me in an attitude of dignified importance, "my system has been the result of forty years' preparatory study. It is my intention to open a large establishment in New