PRESENTED TO THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
 BY 
 
 fAvs. Alej^andep Ppoudfit. 
 
 BV 1533 .F57 1869 
 
 Fitch, Joshua Girling, 1824 
 
 1903. 
 Fitch's lectures to Sunday 
 
 school teachers . . 
 
Fitch's Lectures 
 
 TO 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHERS. 
 
 COMPRISING : 
 
 THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 THE ART OF SECURING ATTENTION IN A 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL CLASS. 
 
 MEMORY 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 .SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 
 
 56 Old Bailey, E. C. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 THOMAS NELSON & SONS, 
 
 52 Bleecker Street. 
 
 1869. 
 
THE AET OF QUESTIONING. 
 
THS AET OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 I HAVE iindertalven to say a few words to you on the 
 ^^ Art of Questioning'." It is a subject of great import- 
 ance to all of you who desire to become good teachers j 
 for, in truth, the success and efficiency of our teaching- 
 depend more on the skill and judgment with which we 
 put questions, than on any other single circumstance. 
 
 It is very possible for a Teacher in a Sunday school 
 to be fluent in speech, earnest in manner, happy in his 
 choice of illustration, and to be a very inefficient 
 teacher nevertheless. We are often apt to think it 
 enough if we deliver a good lesson, and to forget that, 
 after all, its value depends upon the degree in which 
 k is really received and appropriated by the children. 
 Now, in order to secure that what we teach shall really 
 enter their minds, and be duly fixed and comprehended 
 there, it is above all things necessary that we should 
 be able to use effectively the important instrument of 
 instruction to which our attention is now to be drawn. 
 
 I have called Questioning an Art. It is so, inas- 
 much as it is a practical matter, and to be learnt mainly, 
 not by talking about it, but by doing it. We can only 
 become good questioners after much patient practice; 
 and, as is the case with every other art, proficiency in 
 
 3 
 
THE ART OP QUESTIONING. 
 
 this one can only be attained by working at it, and 
 education in it only by the teaching of experience. 
 
 But if this were all, I should not have ventured to 
 make questioning the subject of an address to you: 
 for the only advice appropriate in such a case, would 
 be, '' go to your classes, work in them, and learn the 
 art of questioning, by questioning." 
 
 The truth is, however, that there is a science of 
 teaching as well as an artj every rule of practice which 
 is worth anything is based on some principle j and as 
 it is the business of every good artist to investigate 
 the reasons for the methods he adopts, and to know- 
 something of those general laws which it is his busi- 
 ness to put to a practical application, so it will, perhaps, 
 be worth our while to dwell for a little on the general 
 principles which should be kept in view in questioning, 
 and to ascertain not only Twm a wise teacher should 
 put questions, but why one way is better or worse 
 than another. 
 
 Questions, as employed by teachers, may be divided 
 into three classes, according to the purposes which 
 t]iey may be intended to serve. There is, first, the 
 preliminary ov . ejcperimental question, by which an 
 instructor feels his way, sounds the depths of his pupil's 
 previous knowledge, and prepares him for the reception 
 of what it is designed to teach. 
 
 Then, secondly, there is the question employed in 
 actnal instruction, by means of which the thoughts of 
 the learner are exercised, and he is compelled, so to 
 speak, to take a share in giving himself the lesson. 
 
 Thirdly, there is the question of examinationy by 
 wiiicn a teacher tests his own work, after he has given a 
 lesson, and ascertains whether it has been soundly and 
 thoroughly learnt. If we carefully attend to this dis- 
 tnction, we shall understand the meaning of the saying 
 4 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 of a very eminent teacher, who used to say of the 
 interrog-ative method, that by it he first questioned 
 the knowledg-e into tlie minds of the children, and then 
 questioned it out of them again. 
 
 Perhaps I can best illustrate the nature of what I 
 have called preliminary or experimental questioning, 
 by referring- for a moment to the history of a celebrated 
 man — an Athenian philosopher — who lived more than 
 2,000 years ago, but whose name and influence survive 
 even in this age. 
 
 Socrates had the reputation of being a very great 
 teacher, yet he never lectured nor preached. He had 
 not even a code of doctrine or of opinion to promulgate. 
 But he lived in the midst of a clever, cultivated, 3'^et 
 somewhat opinionated people, and he made it his busi- 
 ness to question them as to the grounds of their own 
 opinions; and to put searching* and rigid enquiries to 
 them on points which they thought they thoroughly 
 understood. He believed that the great impediment 
 to true knowledge, was the possession of fancied or 
 unreal knowledge, and that the first business of a 
 philosopher was, not to teach, but to prepare the 
 mind of the pupil for the reception of truth by proving 
 to him his own ignorance. This kind of mental puri- 
 fication he considered a good preparation for teaching; 
 hence he often challenged a sophist or a flippant and 
 self-confident learner with a question as to the meaning 
 of some familiar word; he would receive the answer, 
 then repeat it, and put some other question intended 
 to bring out the different senses in which the word 
 might be aj)plied. It not unfrequently appeared that 
 the definition was either too wide and included too 
 much, or too narrow and comprehended too little. 
 The respondent would then ask leave to retract his 
 former definition and to amend it; and when this was 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 done, the questioner would quietly proceed to cross- 
 examine his pupil on the subject, applying* the amended 
 definition to special cases, until answers were given 
 inconsistent with each other and with the previous 
 reply. Now, as Socrates never lost sight of the main 
 point, and had a remarkable power of chaining his 
 hearer to the question in hand, and forbidding all dis- 
 cursiveness, the end of the exercise often was, that the 
 pupil, after vain efforts to extricate himself, admitted 
 that he could give no satisfactory answer to the 
 question which at first seemed so easy. 
 
 I will give you a translation fi'om one of Plato's 
 dialogues in which this peculiar method is illustrated. 
 There was one of the disciples of Socrates named 
 Meno, who had been thus probed and interrogated 
 until he felt a somewhat uncomfortable conviction 
 that he was not so wise as he had thought j and who 
 complained to the philosopher of what he called the 
 merely negative character of his instruction. 
 
 « Why, Socrates," said he, " you remind me of that 
 broad sea-fish called the torpedo, which produces a 
 numbness in the person who approaches and touches 
 it. For, in truth, I seem benumbed both in mind 
 and mouth, and I know not what to reply to you, and 
 yet I have often spoken on this subject with gTeat 
 fluency and success.'* 
 
 In reply Socrates says little, but calls to him Meno's 
 attendant, a young slave-boy, and begins to question 
 him. 
 
 "My boy, do you know what figure this is?" (draw- 
 ing a square upon the ground with a stick.) 
 
 " Oh yes. It is a square." 
 
 "What do you notice about these lines?" (tracing 
 them.) 
 
 ** That all four are equal." 
 6 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINO. 
 
 *' Could there be another space like this, only larger 
 or less ?" 
 
 '' Certainly." 
 
 " Suppose this line (pointing to one of the sides) is 
 two feet long, how many feet will there be in the 
 whole?" 
 
 "Twice two." 
 
 "How many is that?" 
 
 "Four." 
 
 "Will it be possible to have another space twice 
 this size?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " How many square feet will it contain?" 
 
 "Eight." 
 
 " Then how long will the side of such a space be ?" 
 
 " It is plain, Socrates, that it will be twice the length?" 
 
 " You see, Meno, that I teach this boy nothing, I 
 only question him. And now he thinks he knows the 
 right answer to my question^ but does he really 
 know ?" 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Meno. 
 
 " Let us return to him again." 
 
 " My boy, you say that from a line of four feet long, 
 there will be produced a space of eight square feetj is 
 it so?" 
 
 " Yes, Socrates, I think so." 
 
 " Let us try, then." (He prolongs the line to double 
 the length.) 
 
 '^ Is this the line you mean ?" 
 
 " Certainly." (He completes the square.) 
 
 " How large is become the whole space?" 
 
 " Why it is four times as large." 
 
 " How many feet does it contain ?" 
 
 " Sixteen." 
 
 " How many ought double the square to contain?** 
 
 Z 
 
THE ATIT OP QUESTION INa. 
 
 "Eig-lit." 
 
 After a few more questions the lad siig'g'ests that 
 the line should be three feet longj since four feet are 
 too much. 
 
 " If, then, it he three feet, we will add tlie half of 
 the first line to it, shall we?" 
 
 ^^ Yes." (He draws the whole square on a line of 
 three feet.) 
 
 ^' No^V, if the first square we drew contained twice 
 two feet, and the second four times four feet, how 
 many does the last contain ?" 
 
 " Three times three, Socrates.'' 
 
 " And how many ought it to contain?" 
 
 '*' Only eight, or one less than nine." 
 
 " Well now, since this is not the line on which to 
 draw the square we wanted, tell me how long it 
 should he.'' 
 
 " Indeed, Sir, I don't know." 
 
 " Now observe, Meno, what has happened to this 
 boy; you see he did not know at first, neither does he 
 yet know. But he then answered boldly, because he 
 fancied he knew, now he is quite at a loss; and though 
 lie is still as ignorant as before, he does not think he 
 knows." 
 
 Meno replies, "What you say is quite true, Socrates." 
 
 " Is he not, then, in a better state now in respect to 
 the matter of which he was ignorant ?" 
 
 " Most assuredly he is." 
 
 " In causing- him to be thus at a loss, and in be- 
 numbing- him like a torpedo, have we done him any 
 harm?" 
 
 ^' None, certainly." 
 
 " We have at least made some progress towards find- 
 ing out his true position. For now, knowing- nothing, 
 lie is more likely to enqijire and search for himsel£" 
 8 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIOKING. 
 
 Now I think those of us who are Sunday school 
 teachers can draw. a practical hint or two from this 
 anecdote. If we want to prepare the mind to receive 
 instruction, it is worth while first to find out what is 
 known already, and what foundation or substratum of 
 knowledg-e there is on wliich to build j to clear away 
 misapprehensions and obstructions from the mind on 
 which we wish to operate ,• and to excite curiosity and 
 interest on the part of the learners as to the subject 
 which it is intended to teach. For, " Curiosity/' as 
 Archbishop Whately says, '^is the parent of attention; 
 and a teacher has no more right to expect success in 
 teaching- those who have no curiosity to learn, than a 
 husbandman has who sows a field without ploughing it." 
 It is chiefly by questions judiciously put to a child 
 before you give him a lesson, that you will be able to 
 kindle this curiosity, to make him feel the need of your 
 instruction, and bring his intellect into a wakeful and 
 teachable condition. Whatever you may have to give 
 in the way of new knowledge will then have a far 
 better chance of being understood and remembered. 
 For you may take it as a rule in teaching, that the 
 mind always refuses to receive — certainly to retain — 
 any isolated knowledge. We remember only those 
 facts and principles which link themselves with what 
 we knew before, or with what we hope to know or 
 are likely to want hereafter. Try, therefore, to estab- 
 lish, in every case, a logical connection between what 
 you teach and what your pupils knew before. Make 
 your new information a sort of development of the 
 old, the expansion of some germ of thought or inquiry 
 which lay hid in the child's mind before. Seek to 
 bring to light what your pupil already possesses, and 
 you will then always see your way more clearly to a 
 proper adaptation of your teaching' to his needs. 
 
 9 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 I said at the outset that there were two other pur- 
 poses which might be served by questioning", besides 
 this primary one which I have just described. It may 
 serve the purpose of actual instruction in the course 
 of giving a lesson, and it may also be the means of 
 examining and testing the pupils after the lesson is 
 finished. Some teachers seem to think that this last 
 is the only use of questioning*; but, in truth, it is as a 
 means of deepening and fixing truth upon the mind 
 that it possesses the highest value. Hence, every fact 
 you teach, before you proceed to another, ought gene- 
 rally to be made the subject of interrogation. 
 
 I will suppose that most of the instruction which 
 you are in the habit of giving in a Sunday school is 
 connected with Scripture reading lessons. The usual 
 plan is, to let a certain portion of the Word of God 
 be read, verse by verse, in turns by the children of 
 the class, then to cause the books to be closed, and 
 then to proceed to question on the lesson. Now, in 
 my own classes in a Sunday school, I have generally 
 found that the mere mechanical difficulty of reading, 
 and the fact that so much of the phraseology of the 
 Bible is unfamiliar and antiquated, were sufficient to 
 prevent the lesson from being understood by all the 
 children. So, if I reserved my questions until the 
 end, it has often happened that many important truths 
 of the lesson proved to have been overlooked by the 
 children, and the result of the questioning has been 
 most unsatisfactory. To remedy this, the best plan 
 seems to be, to put brief, pointed questions during the 
 reading, to take care that no difficult or peculiar words 
 pass unexplained, and constantly to arrest the atten- 
 tion of the class when it flags, by inquiries addressed 
 to individual members of it. You will also find it a 
 good plan, especially with the younger children, after 
 10 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 the whole lesson has been read twice or thrice by the 
 class, to read a short passage yourself, generally two 
 or three verses, in a slow, distinct manner, with as 
 much expression as possible, and then question tho- 
 roughly upon the passage, exhausting its meaning 
 before yon go on to the next. When this has been 
 done with each successive portion of the lesson, the 
 books may be closed, and the whole recapitulated by 
 way of examination. You will find this plan answer 
 a double purpose ; it will improve the reading of the 
 class, by giving to it a model of clearness and ex- 
 pression, and it will enable you to question sys- 
 tematically on every fact you teach as soon as you 
 have taught it. By thus making sure of your ground 
 as you proceed, you will become entitled to expect 
 answers to your recapitulatory or examination ques- 
 tions; and this is a point of great importance, for 
 nothing discourages and depresses a teacher more, oi 
 sooner destroys the interest of the children in a lesson, 
 than the asking of questions which they cannot answer. 
 
 Thus the advantage of questioning on each portion 
 of a lesson, rigidly and carefully as it is learnt, is that 
 you then have a right to demand full answers to all your 
 testing questions when the lesson is concluded. You will, 
 of course, go over the ground a second time much more 
 rapidly than at first, but it is always desirable to cover 
 the whole area of your subject in recapitulation, and to 
 put questions at the end to every child in your class. 
 
 I have only one other observation to make as to the 
 distinction to be kept in view between the questioning 
 of instruction and the cpiestioning of examination. In 
 the former it is often wise to use the simultaneous 
 method, and to address your question to the whole 
 class. This kind of collective exercise gives vigour 
 and life to a lesson^ and the sympathy which is always 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 generated by numbers helps to streng-tben and fix tbe 
 impression you wish to convey. But you must never 
 be satisfied with simultaneous answers ; they should 
 invariably be followed up by individual questioning, 
 or they wall prove very misleading. It may seem a 
 paradoxical assertion, but it is nevertheless true, that 
 a group of children may appear intelligent, while the 
 separate members of the group are careless, ignorant, 
 or only half interested. Without intending* to deceive, 
 children soon learn to catch the key-note of a word or 
 a sentence from their fellows, and to practice many 
 little artifices by which knowledge and attention are 
 simulated, and by which a very slight degree of 
 interest may be mistaken by their teacher for sound 
 and thoughtful work. So, while you will often call 
 for collective answers in order to maintain the vivacity 
 and spirit of your lesson, you should always suspect 
 such answers ; and in every case let them be succeeded 
 by individual appeals to separate children, especially 
 to those who appear the least attentive. Of course, 
 the recapitulatory or examination questions should be 
 entirely individual ; in a small class the questions may 
 well be put to each child in turn, but in a large one 
 they should be given promiscuously; so that every 
 learner may feel sure that he will be personally chal- 
 lenged, and that the knowledge of the rest will form 
 no cloak for his own ignorance. 
 
 But, leaving for the present all distinctions as to the 
 purposes which questions may at difierent times be 
 made to serve, let us fix our attention on some points 
 which should be kept in view as to the language, 
 style, and character of all questions whatever. 
 
 First, then, cultivate great simplicity of language. 
 Use as few words as possible, and let them be such as 
 are adapted to the age and capacity of the class you 
 12 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 are teaching. Eemember that questions are not meant 
 to display your own learning* or acquirements, but to 
 bring- out those of the children. It is a great point in 
 questioning-, to say as little as possible, and so to say 
 tluit little as to cause the children to say as much as 
 possible. Conduct your lesson in such a way, that if 
 a visitor or superintendent be standing- by, his atten- 
 tion will be directed, not to you, but to your pupils ; 
 and his admiration excited, not by your skill and 
 cleverness, but by the amount of mental activity 
 displayed on their part. 
 
 There is an old Latin maxim which, translated, 
 means, "It is the business of art to conceal art.'' 
 I suppose this means that in the case of all the highest 
 and noblest arts, their results are spoilt by any needless 
 display of mechanism, or any obtrusive manifestation 
 of the artist's personal gifts. At any rate you may 
 take it for granted, in relation to your art, that the 
 best questioning is that which attracts least attention 
 to the questioner, and makes the learners seem to be 
 the most important parties concerned. You will do 
 well, therefore, to practice yourselves in using gTeat 
 plainness of speech, and in constructing questions in 
 the fewest possible words. 
 
 Connected with this is another hint of importance : 
 do not tell much in your questions. Never, if you 
 can help it, communicate a fact in your question. Con- 
 trive to educe every fact from the class. It is better 
 to pause for a moment, and to put one or two subordi- 
 nate questions, with a view to bring out the truth you 
 are seeking, than to tell anything which the children 
 could tell you. A good teacher never conveys infor- 
 mation in the form of a question. If he tells his class 
 something, he is not long before he makes the class tell 
 him the same thing again j but his question never 
 
 13 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 assumes the same form, or employs the same phraseology 
 as his previous statement ; for if it does the form of 
 the question really suggests the answer, and the exer- 
 cise fails to challenge the judgment and memory of the 
 children as it ought to do. I may, for instance, want 
 to bring out the fact that Jerusalem is the chief city 
 in the Holy Land. Now suppose I do it thus : — 
 ^' What is the chief city in the Holy Land ?" 
 '^ Jerusalem." " In what country is Jer^vsalem, the chief 
 city ?" ^* The Holy Land." Here each question carries 
 with it the answer to the other, and the consequence 
 is that they test little or nothing, and serve scarcely 
 any useful purpose. 
 
 For this reason it is always important, in questioning 
 on a passage of Scripture, to avoid using the words of 
 Scripture; otherwise we may gTeatly deceive ourselves 
 as to the real extent of knowledge possessed by the 
 class. I will suppose, for example, that you are giving 
 a lesson on the meaning of the Christian injunction, 
 " Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," and that 
 the class has first been questioned as to the meaning of 
 it, and proved unable to give a full and satisfactory 
 explanation of the scope and meaning of these memo- 
 rable words. The parable of the good Samaritan has 
 -been chosen as the illustrative reading* lesson. It has 
 been read twice or thrice by the class in turn, and 
 then the t-eacher takes the first verse and reads it 
 slowly to the class. 
 
 "J. certain man went down from Jerusalem to 
 Jerielw, and fell among thieves y which stripped him 
 of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed^ 
 leaving him half dead .'^ — Luke x. 30. 
 
 Some teachers would proceed to question thus : 
 
 Who is this parable about ? A certain man. Where 
 did he go from ? Jerusalem, Where to 1 Jericho^ 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINa. 
 
 What sort of people did he fall among ? Tlmves, 
 What did they do with his raiment ? Stripped him of 
 it. What did they do with the man himself ? Wounded 
 kim. In what state did tliey leave him ? Half' dead. 
 
 Observe here that the teacher has covered the whole 
 area of the narrative, and proposed a question on every 
 fact ; so far he has done well. But it is to be noticed 
 that every question was proposed as nearly as possible 
 in the words of the book, and required for its answer 
 one (generally but one) of those words. Now it is very 
 easy for a boy or girl, while the echoes of the Bible 
 narrative just read still linger in the ear, to answer 
 every such question by rote merely, with scarcel}'' any 
 eifort of memory, and no effort of thought whatever. 
 It is very possible to fill up the one remaining* word of 
 6uch elHptical sentences as those which have just been 
 used as questions, without having any perception at 
 all of the meaning of the sentence as a whole. 
 
 So, if you desire to secure a thorough understanding 
 of the sacred narrative, it will be necessary to propose 
 questions constructed on a different model, avoiding 
 the use of the exact phraseology of Scripture, and 
 requiring for answers other words than those con- 
 tained in the narrative. 
 
 Let us go over the same subject again, first intro- 
 ducing it by one or two preliminary questions ; e.g. ; 
 
 Who used these words ? 
 
 To whom were they spoken ? 
 
 Why were they uttered ? 
 
 Eepeat the question which the lawyer asked. 
 
 What is the parable about? (Various answers.) 
 One says, A man mho went 07i a journey. Wliat do 
 you call a man who goes on a journey ? A traveller. 
 In what country was the man travelling? Jadcea. 
 
 Let us trace his route on the map. 
 
 15 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 In what direction was lie travelling? Eastward. 
 Through want kind of country? (Here the teacher's 
 own information should supply a fact or two about its 
 physical features.) What should you suppose from the 
 lesson was the state of the country at that time? 
 Thinly peopled; Road unfrequented, ^'c, Sfc, How do 
 you know tliis ? Because lie Jell among thieves. Give 
 another expression for " fell among." Happened to 
 meet with. Another word for " thieves." Uohhers. 
 How did the robbers treat this traveller? They 
 sty ipped him of hi^ raiment. What does the word 
 raiment mean ? Clothes. Besides robbing him of his 
 clothes, what else did they do ? Wounded him. Ex- 
 plain that word. Injured him, Hart him very nmchy 
 ^'C, ^'c. How do you know from the text that he 
 was much hurt ? They left him half dead. They 
 almost hilled him. 
 
 Now observe here that the aim has been two-fold. 
 Pirst — not to suggest the answer by the form of the 
 question. Hence another sort of language has been 
 adopted, and the children have therefore been made to 
 interpret the Biblical language into that of ordinary 
 life. Secondly — not to be satisfied with single words 
 as answers, especially with the particular word 
 which is contained in the narrative itselfj but always 
 to translate it into one more familiar. Children can 
 often give the word which suffices to answer their 
 teacher's inquiry, and are yet ignorant of the whole 
 statement of which that word forms a part. After 
 going over verses like these in detail, I should recom- 
 mend varying- the form of the question, thus : 
 
 " Now what have we learnt in this verse ?" 
 
 " That there was a traveller going from the chief 
 city of Judaea, to another town near the Jordan, on 
 the North East.- 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINO. 
 
 ** Well, and what happened to him ?" 
 
 "That he was robbed and half killed; and left very ^ 
 weak and helpless." 
 
 A teacher ought not, in fact, to be satisfied until he 
 can get entire sentences for answers. These sentences 
 will g-enerallj be paraphrases of the words used in the 
 lesson, and the materials for making the paraphrases 
 will have been developed in the course of the lesson, 
 by demanding-, in succession, meaning's and equivalents 
 for all the principal words. Remember that the mere 
 ability to fill up a parenthetical or elliptical sentence, 
 proves nothing' beyond the possession of a little tact, 
 and verbal memory. It is worth while often to turn 
 round sharply on some inattentive member of the 
 class, or upon some one who has just given a mechan- 
 ical answer, with the question, " What have we just 
 said ?" ^' Tell me what we have just learnt about such 
 a person ?" Observe that the answer required to such 
 a question must necessarily be a whole sentence; it 
 will be impossible to answer it, without a real effort of 
 thought and of judgment in the selection of the 
 learner's words, and without an actual acquaintance 
 with the fact which has been taught. 
 
 It is of great importance, also, that questions should 
 be definite and iinmistakeahle, and, for the most part, 
 that they admit of but one answer. An unskilful 
 teacher puts vague, wide questions, such as, " What 
 did he dor 'What did Abraham say?" "How 
 did Joseph feel at such a time ?" " What lesson ought 
 we to learn from this?" — questions to which no doubt 
 he sees the right answer, because it is already in his 
 mind; but which, perhaps, admit of several equally 
 good answers, according to the different points of view 
 from which different minds would look at them. He 
 does not think of this; he fancies that what is so clear 
 
 17 
 
THE ATIT OP QUESTIONING. 
 
 to him ought to be equally clear to others; he forgets 
 that the minds of the children may be moving on 
 other rails, so to speak, even though directed to the 
 same object. So, when an answer comes which was 
 not the one he expected, even though it is a perfectly 
 legitimate one, he rejects it; while, if any child is 
 fortunate enough to give the precise answer which was 
 in the teacher's mind, he is commended and rewarded, 
 even though he has exerted no more thought on the 
 subject. 
 
 Vague and indefinite questions, I have always 
 observed, produce three different results, according to 
 the class of children to whom they are addressed. 
 The really thoughtful and sensible boy is simply 
 bewildered by them. He is very anxiors to be right, 
 but he is not clear as to what answer his teacher 
 expects; so he is silent, looks puzzled, and is, perhaps, 
 mistaken for a dunce. The bold and confident boy 
 who does not think, when he hears a vague question, 
 answers at random; he is not quite sure whether he is 
 right or wrong, but he tries the experiment, and is 
 thus strengthened in a habit of inaccuracy, and 
 encouraged in the mischievous practice of guessing. 
 There is a third class of children whom I have noticed, 
 not very clever, but sly and knowing nevertheless, who 
 watch the teacher's peculiarities, know his methods, 
 and soon acquire the knack of observing the structure 
 of his sentences, so as to find out which answer he 
 expects. They do not understand the subject so well, 
 perhaps, as many others, but they understand the 
 teacher better, and can more quickl}^ pronounce the 
 characteristic word, or the particular answer he 
 expects. Now I do not hesitate to say, that as far as 
 real education and development of thought are con- 
 cerned, each of these three classes of children is 
 18 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING, 
 
 injured by the habit of vag'iie, wide^ and ambiguous 
 questioning", which is so common among- teachers. 
 
 For similar reasons it is generally necessary to 
 abstain from giving- questa^ns to which we have no 
 reasonable right to expect an answer. Technical terms, 
 and information children are not likely to possess, 
 ought not to be demanded. Nor should questions be 
 repeated to those who cannot answer. A still more 
 objectionable practice is that of suggesting the first 
 word or two of a sentence, or pronouncing the first 
 syllable of a word which the children do not recollect. 
 All these errors generate a habit of guessing- among 
 the scholars^ and we should ever bear in mind, that 
 there is no one habit more fatal to accurate thinking, 
 or more likely to encourage shallowness and self- 
 deception than this. It should be discountenanced in 
 every possible way; and the most effective way is to 
 study well the form of our questions, to consider well 
 whether they are quite intelligible and unequivocal to 
 those to whom they are addressed, and to limit them 
 to those points on which we have a right to expect 
 clear and definite answers. 
 
 There is a class of questions which hardly deserve 
 the name, and which are, in fact, fictitious or apparent, 
 but not true questions. I mean those which simply 
 require the answer " Yes" or " No." Nineteen such 
 questions out of twenty, carry their own answers in 
 them; for it is almost impossible to propose one, 
 without revealing, b}^ the tone and inflection of the 
 voice, the kind of answer you expect. For example 
 ' — " Is it right to honour our parents ?" " l)id 
 Abraham show much faith when he offered up his son?" 
 '^ Do you think the author of the Psalms was a good 
 man ?" " Were the Pharisees really lovers of truth ?" 
 Questions like these ehcit no thought whatever; there 
 
 19 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINQ. 
 
 are but two possible answers to each of tbem, and of 
 these I am sure to show, by my manner of putting* the 
 question, which one I expect. Such questions should, 
 therefore, as a general rule be avoided, as they seldom 
 serve any useful purpose, either in teaching- or exam- 
 ining*. For every question, it must be remembered, 
 ought to require an effort to answer it; it may be an 
 effort of memory, or an effort of imagination, or an 
 effort of judg-ment, or an effort of perception; it may 
 be a considerable effort or it may be a slight one; but 
 it must be an effort; and a question which challeng-es 
 no mental exertion whatever, and does not make the 
 learner think, is worth nothing. Hence, however such 
 simple affirmative and negative replies may look like 
 work, they may co- exist with utter stagnation of 
 mind on the part of the scholars, and with complete 
 ignorance of what we are attempting to teach. 
 
 So much for the language of questioning. But it is 
 worth while to give a passing notice to the order and 
 arrangement which, should always characterize a series 
 of questions. They should, in fact, always follow one 
 another in systematic order; each should seem to grow 
 out of the answer which preceded it, and should have 
 a clear logical connection with it. Much of the force 
 and value of the Interrogative Method is lost in a 
 loose, unconnected, random set of enquiries, however 
 well they may be worded, or however skilfully each 
 separate question may be designed to elicit the thought 
 and knowledge of the learners. If the entire impression 
 left on the mind of the learner is to be an effective one, 
 all that he has learnt on a given subject ought to be 
 coherent and connected. We cannot secure this 
 without acquiring a habit of continuous and orderly 
 questioning, so that each effort of thought made by the 
 scholar shall be duly connected with the former, and 
 20 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINO. 
 
 preparatory to the next. There will thus be a unity 
 and endreness in the teaching-, and what is taught 
 will then have a reasonable chance of a permanent 
 place in the memory. For we must ever remember 
 that whatever is learnt confusedly, is remembered 
 confiisedly, and that all effective teaching must be 
 characterized by system and continuity. Hence, in 
 proposing questions, it is very necessary to keep in 
 view the importance of linking them together, of 
 making each new answer the solution of some 
 difficulty, which the former answer suggested but did 
 not explain, and of arranging all questions in the exact 
 order in which the subject would naturally develope 
 itself in the mind of a logical and systematic thinker. 
 
 A very good example of this peculiar merit in 
 questioning may be found in the Church Catechism, 
 especially in its latter section. I do not recommend 
 the practice of teaching from Catechisms, and I do not 
 of course enter here on any controversy respecting the 
 subject matter of this one; but the arrangement of 
 the questions will certainly repay an attentive exami- 
 nation. Look at that portion which relates to the 
 sacraments. It will be found that each answer serves 
 to suggest the next question, and that the whole body 
 of answers, in the order in which they stand, furnish 
 a systematic code of doctrine on the subject to which 
 the Catechism refers, with every fact in precisely its 
 right place. The excellence of the method adopted 
 here will be best understood by contrasting it with 
 many popular modern works in a catechetical form. 
 
 We have often been struck, I dare say, in reading 
 the newspapers, to find what plain and sensible evidence 
 the witnesses all appear to give at judicial trials. 
 We recognize the name of some particular person, and 
 we know, perhaps, that he is an uneducated man, apt 
 
 21 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINO. 
 
 to talk in a incoherent and desultory way on most 
 subjects^ utterly incapable of telling a simple story 
 without wandering and blundering-, and very nervous 
 withal J yet if he happens to have been a witness at 
 a trial, and we read the pubHshed report of his 
 testimony, we are surprised to find what a connected, 
 straightforward story it is; there is no irrevelant or 
 needless matter introduced, and yet not one significant 
 fact is omitted. We wonder how such a man could 
 have stood up in a crowded court, and narrated facts 
 with all this propriety and good taste. But the truth 
 is, that the witness is not entitled to your praise. He 
 never recited the narrative in the way implied by the 
 newspaper report. But he stood opposite to a man 
 who had studied the art of questioning; and he replied 
 in succession to a series of interrogations which the 
 barrister proposed to him. The reporter for the 
 press has done no more than copy down, in the exact 
 order in which they were given, all the replies to these 
 questions; and if the sum of these replies reads to us 
 like a consistent narrative, it is because the lawyer 
 knew how to marshal his facts beforehand, had the 
 skill to determine what was necessary, and what was 
 not necessary to the case in hand, and to propose his 
 questions so as to draw out, even from a confused and 
 bewildered mind, a coherent statement of facts. We 
 may take a hint, I think, from the practice of the bar 
 in this respect; and, especially in questioning by way 
 of examination, we may remember that the answers of 
 the children, if they could be taken down at the 
 moment, ought to form a complete, orderly, and clear 
 summary of the entire contents of the lesson. 
 
 Of course, I do not mean to insist too rigidly to an 
 adherence to this rule. Misconceptions will reveal 
 themselves in the course of the lesson, which will 
 22 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINa. 
 
 require to be corrected; hard words will occur which 
 need explanation; new trains of thought and inquiry- 
 will seem to start out of the lesson, and to demand 
 occasional dig-ression: it will, in fact, often become 
 necessary to deviate a little to the right hand or to the 
 left from the main path, for the sake of illustration, 
 and for other good reasons. No good teacher allows 
 himself to be so enslaved by a mechanical routine as 
 to neglect these things ; we must not attempt, even for 
 the sake of logical consistency, to adhere too rigidly 
 to a formal series of questions, nor refuse to notice 
 any new fact or enquiry which seems to spring 
 naturally out of the subject. Still, the main purpose 
 of the whole lesson should be kept steadily in view; 
 all needless digression should be carefully avoided, 
 and any incidental difficulties which are unexpectedly 
 disclosed in the lesson should rather be remembered 
 and reserved for future investigation, than permitted 
 to begiiile a teacher into a neglect of those truths 
 which the lesson is primarily designed to teach. 
 
 A good deal of the success of a teacher depends 
 upon the manner in which questions are proposed. 
 Perhaps the most important requisite under this head 
 is animation. Slow, dull, heavy questioning wearies 
 children, and destroys their interest in a lesson. It is 
 by a rapid succession of questions, by a pleasing and 
 spirited manner, by dexterously challenging all wbo 
 seem inattentive, and, above all, by an earnest feeling 
 of interest in the subject, and of delight in seeing the 
 minds of his scholars at work, that the teacher will 
 best kindle their mental activity, and give life and 
 force to his subject. Hence, it is necessary to avoid 
 long pauses, and all monotony of voice, or sluggishness 
 of manner; to vary the phraseology of your questions, 
 and to seek in every way to kindle interest and 
 
 23 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINO. 
 
 enthusiasm about tlie lesson. But in doing* this let us 
 remember that we cannot give more than we possess; 
 we cannot raise the minds of others above the level 
 of our own; and therefore it is important that our 
 manner should show a warm interest in the subject, 
 and that our own love for sacred truth should be so 
 strong as to convey itself^ by the mere force of sym- 
 pathy, into the hearts of those whom we undertake to 
 instruct. I have seen teachers whose cheeks glowed, 
 and whose manner became suffiised with earnestness 
 as they spoke the words of healing and of life : I have 
 seen their eyes glisten with tearful joy as one little 
 one after another had his intellect awakened to receive 
 the truth, and his heart touched with sacred impres- 
 sions. And I have known well that these were 
 teachers who, whatever their intellectual gifts might 
 be, were the most likely persons to obtain an entrance 
 into the hearts of children, to exercise a right influence 
 over them, and to find, after many days, that the seed 
 they had thus sown in hope and fear had been watered 
 by the Divine favour and benediction, and brought 
 forth rich and glorious fruit. Of course, we must not 
 counterfeit an emotion which we do not feel, nor use 
 an earnest manner as a mere trick of art, or as a 
 machine for making our teaching effective; but a 
 Sunday school teacher will never be worth much, 
 unless his own heart kindles at the thought of the 
 permanence and precioiisness of the truths he has to 
 teach, nor unless he feels a positive pleasure in wit- 
 nessing every new proof of the unfolding of mind on 
 the part of his class. Such feelings are sure to give 
 vigour to his teaching', a vivid and picturesque cha- 
 racter to his illustrations, earnestness to his manner, 
 animation to his voice, and a quick, active, and telling 
 character to his method oi" questioning. 
 24 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 For these reasons I tliink it very undesiiable for a 
 teacher to use a book of questions, or to have teaching 
 notes in his hand while he gives the lesson. The value 
 of such assistance is great,* if you avail yourselves of 
 it heforchand; if it helps to systematize your own 
 thoughts, and prepare you for the right development 
 of the lesson. But in the presence of the children th& 
 use of the question book has a chilling and depressing 
 etFect; it destroys their confidence in their teacher, it 
 prevents him from feeling at his ease, and it gives a 
 sluggish and mechanical look to the whole proceeding. 
 Whether our questions be good or bad it is quite 
 certain that they should be our own, not read out of a 
 book, or from notes, but growing spontaneously out of 
 our own minds, and adapted not only to the peculiar 
 character and requirements of the class, but also to the 
 time and circumstances, to the special turn which the 
 lesson has chanced to take, and to the particular 
 inferences which the teacher feels it most important to 
 draw from it. 
 
 For it must ever be one of the first requisites in all 
 good teaching, that the minds of the teacher and the 
 taught should come into actual contact. The words of 
 some one else, read or quoted to me, never can have 
 half the force of the actual utterance of a living 
 present being, whose own thought seeks entrance intc 
 my mind, and is intended specially to meet my needs. 
 We all know the difference between reading a sermon 
 to children, and delivering orally a far inferior address, 
 but one attended with gestures and looks and tones 
 which prove its genuineness, and give it directness 
 
 * I refer especially to the Notes of Lessons published by the 
 Sunday School Union, the Church of England Institute, and 
 the National Society in their Monthly Paper for Sunday 
 Schools. 
 
 25 
 
TH:fi ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 of application. The same difference is noticeable 
 in questioning, and therefore I think it far better 
 that a teacher should make a few blunders and inac- 
 curacies while he is educating himself into the habit 
 of independent questioning", than that he should be 
 rigidly exact and carefid by the help of notes or books. 
 Swimming" with corks is not, strictly speaking, swim- 
 ming at all 5 and so the reading of certain inquiries 
 from a Catechism or a book is not, in fact, questioning 
 at all, but an indirect and very inefficient substitute 
 for it. 
 
 Perhaps it may be worth while to say a word or 
 two about the answers which questions may receive. 
 We ought not to be satisfied with obtaining a right 
 answer from one child, nor even from the whole class 
 collectively. In most cases it is necessary to repeat a 
 question which has been answered, to some other child 
 who may have appeared inattentive. And if a question 
 is first given to one who fails to answer it, and then to 
 another boy or girl who gives the right answer, it is 
 generally a good plan to go back to the first child, and 
 put the same question again, in order to test his 
 attention to what is going on in the class. We can 
 only secure a hold upon the more indolent scholars by 
 making each one feel that he cannot possibly escape, 
 but that his own personal knowledge of the subject 
 is sure to be challenged at the close of the lesson. 
 Hence, all questions should be well distributed 
 throughout the class, and no one child should be 
 allowed to avoid the frequent appeals of his teacher. 
 
 Wrong answers will often be given, yet these should 
 never make us angry, but should be reserved for a 
 while, and shown to be incorrect by subsequent 
 examination. Of course, if random or foolish answers 
 are offered, it is a proof that the discipline of the class 
 2Q 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINQ. 
 
 is bad, and the offence must be reg-arded as a breach of 
 rule, and treated accordingly. But a mistake arising 
 f]om ignorance ought never to be treated as a crime. 
 A teacher may meet it by saying-^ "Will some one 
 tell me why that answer is a wrong one ?" Or, if the 
 answer is very wide of the mark, by saying, " We will 
 g'o into that presently;" or, "We will have a lesson on 
 that su]:ject, and you will then see why the answer was 
 a bad one." And, in the very numerous cases in 
 Vv'hich an answer is partly wrong and partly right, or 
 in which an answer, though right in substance, is 
 wrong' in the mere language or form of expression, it 
 is always desirable to alter the language of your 
 question, to propose it again to an elder child, to add a 
 subordinate question or two to disentangle the precise 
 truth, and then at last the question should be repeated 
 in its original form, and an amended answer be required. 
 But all this implies patience and judgment j a con- 
 descension to the weakness and obscurity of infant 
 minds ; a considerate, forbearing tone ; and a constant 
 desire to sympathize in their difficulties, rather by 
 offering a friendly help in escaping from them, than 
 by solving them at once. 
 
 It may occasionally happen to a teacher to be much 
 vexed and puzzled because he can obtain no answers 
 to his questions at all, or because all the answering 
 comes from one or two prominent children. In such 
 cases it is needless to find fault, or to complain and 
 scold for the inattention. It is far better to look into 
 ourselves, and see if we cannot find the reason tJuTe for 
 our want of success. Perhaps we have allowed the 
 lesson to proceed in disorder, and nothing is known, 
 simply because nothing has been taught ; and in this 
 case our own method is in fault. Or, perhaps, we have 
 been asking questions above the comprehension of the 
 
 27 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONINO. 
 
 shildren, wliich they are positively unable to answer^ 
 and which we have no right to ask. Or, it may be 
 that we have put our questions in an indistinct, or 
 unintelligible way. Let us always, in case of failure, 
 suspect ourselves, take the ig-norance of the children 
 as a censure upon our own methods, and endeavour^ 
 with God's blessing", to turn the experience of such a 
 lesson to good account, by rectifying our plans, 
 simplifying our language, or studying more accurately 
 the nature of the Being with whom we have to deal. 
 
 Occasionally it will be found advantageous to vary 
 the exercise by the employment of mutual questions ; 
 by setting the children, especially of an upper class, to 
 question one another in turn on the su])ject of the 
 lesson. They will be very shy and unwilling to do 
 this at first, but after a little practice they will learn 
 to like it, and in the act of framing questions, their o\^n 
 intelligence will be greatly strengthened. Lord Bacon 
 said " that a wise question is the half of knowledge ;" 
 and it is quite true that it takes some knowledge of a 
 subject to enable us to put a good question upon it; 
 such mutual interrogation as I have described will 
 therefore be, in a double sense, a test of the knowledge 
 and though tfulness of a class. 
 
 Every encourngement should always be offered to the 
 children to put questions to their teacher, and to give 
 free expression to whatever difficulties or doubts may 
 be in their minds. A good teacher will never think 
 such questions irksome or out of place, but will 
 welcome them and all the trouble they may bring with 
 them, as so many proofs that the minds of his pupils 
 are at work^ and so many hopeful guarantees of future 
 success. 
 
 For, indeed, the whole sum of what maybe said about 
 (questioning is comprised in this. It ought to set the 
 28 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 learners tliinking-, to promote activity and energy on 
 their parts, and to arouse the whole mental faculty 
 into action instead of blindly cultivating- the memory 
 It the expense of the hig-her intellectual powers. 
 That is the best questioning" which best stimulates 
 action on the part of the learner; which gives him a 
 habit of thinking- and inquiring for himself; which 
 tends in a great measure to render him independent of 
 his teacher ; which makes him, in fact, rather a skilftil 
 finder than a patient receiver of truth. All our 
 questioning- should aim at this ; and the success of our 
 teaching- must ever be measured, not by the amount of 
 information we have imparted, but by the degree in 
 which we have strengthened the judgment and enlarged 
 the capacity of our pupils, and imparted to them that 
 searching and inquiring spirit, which is a far surer 
 basis for all future acquisitions than any amount of 
 mere information whatever. 
 
 Dear friends : I came here to-night to speak on 
 what seems to be the mere mechanism of the teacher's 
 art; and yet I do not like to conclude without travelling 
 a little beyond my province, and expressing to you my 
 entire sympathy with the motive and the object which 
 draw you together in this place. It is pleasant to know 
 that 1 am surrounded by persons who are accustomed, 
 for the love they bear to their Lord and Master, to 
 devote their Sunday's leisure to the work of nurturing 
 and tending the lambs of His wandering flock, and who 
 come here, from time to time, in order to know how 
 they may do that work in the best manner. I wish 
 that by any words of mine I knew how to encourage 
 you in this wise and Christian course. I wish I could 
 convey to you a scronger sense of the deep responsibility 
 involved in the work you have undertaken. Few 
 thoughts oug-ht to weigh more heavily on the mind 
 
 2d 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 of the Sunday scliool teacher than the consideration 
 of the seriousness and difficulty of the work he has 
 undertaken to do. In many cases it is true that all 
 the influences which are brought to bear upon the 
 minds and hearts of the children out of school are 
 positively hostile to your teaching. They come to you 
 from disorderly, dirty, ill-managed, and ungodly homes, 
 to spend a brief hour in your class. You are their only 
 religious instructors. It is while they are with you, and 
 only then, that their minds come into contact with the 
 realities of an unseen world. It is from you only that 
 they learn the name of God and of his Son, our Saviour, 
 and it is you that must shape their first, and therefore 
 their most enduring conceptions of sacred truth, of 
 the beauty of holiness, the examples of saints and 
 mart}TS, the hatefulness of sin, the purity and glory 
 and blessedness of heaven. That brief hour spent in 
 yom' class is the one bright and hopefril spot in the 
 history of many a child, who, from his birth, is called 
 to wander in strange paths, and who comes to you in, 
 perhaps, a desultory and uncertain way for a few 
 weeks, returning every Sunday into the midst of asso- 
 ciations and pursuits, every one of which is positively 
 antagonistic to religious impressions^ and tends to 
 neutralize all your teaching. 
 
 This is a solemn thought, and one which, I doubt not, 
 has been often present to your minds, but the practical 
 conclusions from it are very simple. How necessary 
 it is to turn every moment of that precious time to the 
 best possible account ! How important it is to avail 
 ourselves of every method and of every suggestion, 
 however humble, by means of which the time can be 
 economized and our teaching be made more effective ! 
 If the professional teacher, who devotes every day of 
 the week to his work, who undertakes to give instruc 
 
THE ART OF QUESTIONING. 
 
 faoD in far meaner subjects than you teach, and who 
 Kin count on far more aid and sympathy from the 
 parents, needs to study the theory of his art, how 
 much more necessary it is for you, with the sacred 
 oracles of God in your hands, to apply every 
 power and faculty you possess to the task of 
 explaining- those oracles in the best manner. It is a 
 great mistake to suppose that religious instruction can 
 be given more easily than secular. The truth is just 
 the reverse. More teaching* power, more judgment, 
 and riper knowledge are required in order to teach the 
 Holy Scriptures well than to teach anything else. You 
 could not hope to teach grammar or mathematics by 
 merely liking the subject and feeling an interest in it. 
 You would find it necessary to study it systematically, 
 to search other books, which would throw any light on 
 the text-book you used, and, more than all, to find out 
 what were the best methods of presenting the subject 
 to the mind of the learner, and the most efiectual way 
 of fixing it in his memory. And no one has a right 
 to expect success as a teacher of God's Word on any 
 easier condition. Story and parable, psalm and pro- 
 phecy, precept and doctrine, all require to be well 
 studied before we attempt to teach them. We dis- 
 honour the Bible and its Divine Author too, when we 
 attempt to give an unstudied and unprepared lesson 
 on its sacred verities. Whatever elucidation history 
 and science, or the comments of wise men, can bring 
 to bear on the sacred Word, ought to be thankfully 
 welcomed. We cannot afford to dispense with any 
 aid by which our own gTasp of the Scriptures can b@ 
 strengthened, and our conception of the truth enlarged. 
 And, to the end that j^ou may enter yom* class rightly 
 armed and equipped for the discharge of your Sunday 
 duties, I know no means more wise and practical than 
 
 31 
 
THE ART 01' QUESTIONING. 
 
 tliose which the promoters of this Training Class have 
 adopted. I refer especially to the model lessons, to 
 the criticisms of their style and matter, and to the 
 friendly discussions as to educational methods, for 
 which the class was formed. I beHeve that, with 
 <j!od's blessing, such means are the most efficient 
 which you can use for improving the character of our 
 Sunday school teaching. I believe that if, in addition 
 to the patient private study of the Holy Scriptures, a 
 teacher will resolutely make use of these advantages — 
 if he combines a due and reverent sense of the import- 
 ance of his office, with a modest estimate of his own 
 personal qualifications for it — if he carries with him 
 the constant recollection that there is not a little child 
 in his class, however dull, however poor, however un- 
 interesting, who has not that within him which will 
 survive even the brightest star in the firmament of 
 heaven — and if, all the while, he remembers Who is 
 the Master Whom he is called to serve, and Whose 
 words they are which he undertakes to explain — he 
 will have a right to expect success in his work. Day 
 by day, as he studies the Bible, God will be lifting up 
 for him the veil of difficulty which at first seemed to 
 conceal its truths ; and Sunday by Sunday the Great 
 Teacher will seem to be aiding and strengthening him, 
 giving him increased happiness in his work, gTeater 
 personal influence over the minds of the children, and 
 greater skill in imparting a knowledge of that Word, 
 ** the entrance of which giveth light, and it givetk 
 vnderstanding to the simple.** 
 
 32 
 
AET OF SECUEING ATTENTION 
 
 |R a ^untojj Sd]oci Class. 
 
THE ART OF SECURING ATTENTION, 
 
 By attention, I mean fixitj of thoug-lit— the concen- 
 tration of the whole mind upon one subject at a time 
 — that eifort of will by which we are enabled to follow 
 what we hear or read, without wandering', T\ithout 
 weariness, and without losing anj particle of the 
 meaning intended to be conveyed. 
 
 I do not doubt that to many of you the thought 
 occurs, ^^ This, indeed, is the one thing which I most 
 want. If I could only secure attention, what an 
 admirable teacher I should be! How happy I should 
 be in my work! How much success and usefulness 
 would follow my efforts!" Now, this is a veiy 
 natural reflection; but it will be my object to prove 
 to you that it is not a very sound one; and that 
 attention must not be looked upon as the condition 
 of our being good teachers; but rather as the result 
 of our being so. 
 
 Let us first of all acknowledge to ourselves, that 
 attention, such as we want to get from children, 
 is a very hard thing to give. You and I, even when 
 we have the strongest sense of duty urging us to attend 
 to a subject, oft^n find that it is next to impossible to 
 
 S5 
 
THE ART OF 
 
 chain our tlioug-hts resolutely down to it. The 
 memory of yesterday's business, the prospect of to- 
 morrow's pleasure, will intrude upon us in spite of aU 
 our efforts. We constantly lose the thread of arg'u- 
 ment, even in a book that interests us ; the eye g-lances 
 down the pag-e, but the thoughts do not follow it, 
 and we are compelled to g-o back ag-ain, and make a 
 renewed effort to keep our wayward minds in harness. 
 You know how often this is true; whether you listen 
 to a sermon or a lecture, or read a book. It is true 
 even when you most desire to resist the temptation. 
 How much more is the difficulty likely to be felt by 
 little children, who are constitutionally more restless 
 than we are, whose moral natures are but partially 
 developed, and who have at present no strong* sense 
 of duty to chide them into silence, or awe them into 
 attention. 
 
 And let us confess to ourselves, also, that we are 
 accustomed to make very heav}^ demands upon a 
 child's faculty of attention, especially on Sunday. 
 We expect him to listen to teaching* from nine o'clock 
 imtil past ten; then, after a brief internal, to compose 
 himself into a reverential attitude, and into stillness 
 and solemnity during* a long service, the greater part 
 of which is necessarily above his comprehension, 
 and adapted to crises and experiences very different 
 from his own. Then we call upon him to come again, 
 irom two till past four, and continue wakeful, respect- 
 ful and attentive, during the wh.ole of our teaching 
 And all the day's engngeinents, we must remember, 
 relate to a subject which, although of the deepest im- 
 portance, is not naturally felt to be so in early youth. 
 Until it pleases God to impart to a little child, either 
 through the instrumentality of wise teaching or other- 
 wise, an appetite for sacred truths, he has no natural 
 86 
 
SECURING ATTENTION". 
 
 curiosity about them. He is naturally very inquisitive 
 about the things that immediately surround him : he 
 is curious to learn about the sun, and the moon, and 
 the stars; about distant countries; about the manners 
 of foreigners ; about birds and beasts and fishes ; nay, 
 even, about machines and many other human inven- 
 tions : but about the nature of God, and about man's 
 relation to Him, and the great truths of revealed 
 religion, you know that there is rarely any strong 
 curiosity in a child's mind. You do not find the 
 appetite for such knowledge as this already existing 
 there. You have to create it; and until you have 
 created it, your scholar cannot give you the fixed and 
 earnest attention you want, without an eifort wliich is 
 positively painful to him. 
 
 I think it important at the outset that we should be 
 aware of these two simple facts; first that fixed attention 
 is a hard thing for anybody to give; and second, that 
 fixed attention to religious subjects is especially a hard 
 thing for children to give. When we have fairly 
 taken these facts into account, we shall be better 
 prepared to avail oiu'selves of any counsel which may 
 enable us to secure attention. It is always a great 
 step towards the removal of a difficulty, to know that 
 there is a difficult}^, and that it needs to be removed. 
 
 For you know, however hard it may be to gain 
 attention, we micst get it, if we are to do any good at 
 all in a Sunday school. It is of no use there to tell 
 children things which go no deeper than the surface of 
 their minds, and which will be swept away to make 
 room for the first trifling matter wliich claims admission 
 there. If children are really to be the better for what 
 we teach, if the truths which we love so well are reallj 
 to go Jeep into their consciences, and become the 
 guiding principles of their lives, it is no half-heartedj. 
 
 ST 
 
THE ART OF 
 
 languid attention, wliich will serve our purpose. We 
 are not dealing- with facts which will bear to be 
 received and then forgotten; but with truths, which 
 if they have any significance at all, have an eternal 
 significance; and if they are to have any practical 
 value to a child at all, must not only be received by 
 his understanding, but lodged securely in his memory, 
 and made to tell upon the formation of his character 
 for this world and the next. Since then, you, as 
 Sunday school teachers, need deeper and more earnest 
 attention to what you say than any other class of 
 teachers, it is worth our while to consider how you 
 are to get it, and, when you have got it, how you are 
 likely to keep it. 
 
 Let me tell you first, how you will not get attention. 
 You will not get it by claiming it, by demanding 
 it as a right, or by entreating- it as a favour; by 
 urging upon j^our pupils the importance of the 
 subject, the sacredness of the day, the kindness of 
 their teachers, or the great and solemn chai'acter of 
 the truths you have to impart. All these are very 
 legitimate arguments to use to older Christians. You 
 and I, we may hope, feel their force. The sense ot 
 these things keeps us thoughtful and silent many a 
 time, perhaps, when we are hearing a dull or unin- 
 telligible address. We feel we ought to be attentive, 
 and so we make an effort to be so. George Herbert 
 argues that if the preacher's discourse entirely lacks 
 interest, we must consider that 
 
 ** God takes a text, and preacheth patience.** 
 
 Now, this is a very valid argument to us, no doubt, 
 but it is no argument to a child. Nothing, in the long 
 run (except fear, which I know you would feel to be 
 
 33 
 
SECURING ATTENTION. 
 
 a very unsatisfactory motive) can keep a child's atten* 
 tion fixed, but a sense of real interest in the thing you 
 are saying'. It is necessary that he should feel that 
 the subject claims attention for itself, not that you 
 are claiming* attention for the subject. Depend upon 
 it, that attention g'ot by threats, by authority, or even 
 by promises, or indeed by any external means what- 
 ever, is not a g'enuine or effective thing*. The true 
 attention, such as alone can serve the purpose of a 
 Sunday school teacher, must always' be founded on 
 the fact that you have g'ot something* to say which is 
 worth a child's hearing*, and that you can say it in 
 such a manner that he shall feel it to be worth his 
 hearing*. 
 
 And, of course, the first condition to be fulfilled, in 
 order to secure this, is, that the teacher's own mind 
 shall be accurately and abundantly prepared on the 
 subject which he has to teach. It seems a trite thing 
 to say to teachers that they should prepare their 
 lessons. Few of the members of this class, I hope, 
 need to be reminded of their duty in this respect. 
 But I doubt whether many of us see the importance 
 of preparation in its true light. Observe, I said a 
 teacher should be accurately prepared. By this, I 
 mean that there should be no vagueness, or indistinct- 
 ness in his mind, about what he is going to teach. He 
 should not rely on a general impression that he com- 
 prehends the subject. He must have details — ^facts 
 which he knows how to state with exactness — and a 
 degTee ot nicety and precision about his knowledge 
 far greater than he can ever hope to impart to the 
 children. Again, I said he should be abundantly pre- 
 pared. This means that he should store his mind 
 beforehand, not merely with what he means to impart, 
 but with a great deal more. He does not know whul 
 
 39 
 
THE ATIT OF 
 
 topic may grow out of the lesson- he connot tell what 
 questions the children may ask, nor what illustrations 
 he may find most effective. So he should provide 
 himself at all points. He should look at the lesson 
 and into the lesson^ and all round the lesson, before he 
 gives it; gathering together, in his mind, all that can 
 possibly throw light upon it, and become useful in his 
 teaching. 
 
 There is another reason for attaching great import- 
 ance to abundant preparation. No man can ever 
 teach all he knows on any subject. I doubt, indeed, 
 whether he can teach half of what he knows. If you 
 would be a good teacher, therefore, up to a certain 
 limit, you yourself should have gone far beyond that 
 limit. We must look at any fact we want to teach 
 from very different, and perhaps distant points of view 
 in order to comprehend its true relation to other facts. 
 If any teacher just gets up a lesson from printed notes, 
 and is only barely provided with the knowledge 
 actually required for his class, he is sure to fail, both 
 in securing attention, and in getting the subject under- 
 stood. Children will always carry away with them 
 far less than you bring. Make up your mind at once 
 to the fact, that a large discount, or percentage of even 
 a successful lesson, is always lost in the very act of 
 communicating it. Therefore, if you wish children 
 to receive a given amount of instruction, you must be 
 provided with a great deal more. I always notice 
 when a man is teaching, that the moment he gets 
 within sight of the horizon, and feels that he is 
 approaching the limits of his own knowledge, he falters; 
 he becomes embarrassed; he loses confidence in him- 
 self: the children soon detect his weakness, and the 
 lesson loses interest immediately. Now the practical 
 inference from this : — ■ Get all the subsidiary and illus- 
 40 
 
SECURING ATTENTION. . 
 
 trative information you can possibly accumulate aoout 
 
 your lesson, before you give it. Anecdotes, definitions 
 of bard words, illustrations of eastern life, verses of 
 poetr}", parallel texts and allusions, may or may not all 
 be needed in tbe lesson; but, at any rate, tbey certainly 
 *i)ill be needed by yourself, to give due life and 
 vigour to your teaching, and to make you feel con 
 fidence in your own resources. 
 
 But the preparation required cannot all be obtained 
 from books. Valuable as book knowledge is, it is not 
 the only knowledge, and it is certainly not all a Sun- 
 day school teacher wants. His preparation must be 
 going on in the world as well as in his study. He 
 must watch the incidents of every day, and see what 
 usQ he can make of them in his class. If he lias an 
 open eye, and that "loving heart," .which a great 
 writer has called the beginning of all knowledge, 
 he will be able to learn a gi'eat deal, by observation, 
 respecting the nature of childhood, its dangers, its 
 wants, and the peculiar teaching which is best suited 
 for it. He will constantly be watching incidents and 
 events, and treasuring up as much of them as can be 
 brought to bear upon his scholars, or is likely to convey 
 instruction to them. I am afraid some of us do not 
 think enough of this. Why, there is not a circum- 
 stance that happens to any one of us, not an incident 
 in our daily life, public or private, not a success or a 
 failure, a misfortune or a blessing, which has not its 
 own special significance, and is not meant to teach us 
 some useful lesson. If we only had eyes to see and 
 hearts to receive it, we should perceive that the 
 history of each day's experience, even of the humblest 
 of us — every one of the shifting phenomena of our 
 daily life — illustrates some great moral and spiritual 
 truth which underlies it, and is meant to be reccg- 
 
 41 
 
THE ART OF 
 
 nized and understood by us. Do we husband the 
 experience of every day ? Do we watch the lessons it 
 teaches, the warnings that it brings, and do we try to 
 bring it to bear upon our Sunday teaching ? If we do 
 not. we lose a great opportunity of usefulness, and 
 throw away one of the main securities for obtaining 
 attention. 
 
 For, after all, one of the first requisites in good 
 teaching is, that it shall address itself to the actual 
 experience and necessities of the learner, and not to 
 any imaginary experience or necessities. We cannot 
 fulfil this condition unless we make it our business 
 to know w^hat are the real dangers and temptations, 
 the weaknesses and the want of the children whom 
 we have to teach. I took a little child to church 
 with me the other dayj and her remark, on coming 
 out, was, "I don't understand that preacher, he 
 doesn't talk like gentlemen in rooms." How, I do not 
 suppose that public services can ever, in the nature of 
 things, be otherwise than strange and unintelligible to 
 children j but I am sure that the more Sunday school 
 teachers talk like " gentlemen in rooms," the better. 
 If there is anvthino' unfamiliar, or artificial, or sermon- 
 izing in your language ; if the child detects anything 
 that sounds like falsetto in your tone ; if your illus- 
 tiTitions are bookish and unpractical ; if the virtues 
 and the vices you talk about are not the actual virtues 
 which it is possible for them to practise, and the 
 actual vices into which they are likely to fall \ if, in 
 any way, you shoot above their heads, or betray a want 
 of familiarity with the real lives which children lead ; 
 your class will cease to feel any interest in what you 
 say. 
 
 We may now safely conclude, I think, that ample 
 and accurate knowletu*:! of the subject, and skill in 
 42 
 
SECURING ATTENTION. 
 
 applying it to the case of children, will, in every case, 
 give a Sunday school teacher a right to be heard, and 
 will enable him, therefore, without difficulty to gain 
 the ear of his class. But suppose attention is once 
 gained in this way, we still have to inquire how it 
 may be kept up. 
 
 First, let me mention one or two merely mechanical 
 devices for maintaining attention. Of course these are 
 not the highest, but they are sometimes useful, never- 
 theless. For instance, children need change of jjos- 
 ture. The restlessness which we often complain of in 
 children, is not a fault, it is a constitutional necessity. 
 It is positively painful to them to remain in one atti- 
 tude long. We ought to be aware of this ; and, occa- 
 sionally, when attention seems to flag, let the whole 
 class stand for a short time, or go through some simple 
 exercise which requires movement. You will often 
 find that in this way your class will be refreshed. 
 When the body has had its lawful claims recognized, 
 the mind will be more at leisure to devote itself to the 
 lessons ; the sense of weariness will disappear, and the 
 work of teaching proceed with more cheerfulness I 
 have often seen teachers and children remain sitting 
 during the whole of a long summer afternoon, and 
 the teacher wondering at the listlessness of his 
 class. But I see nothing' to wonder at. Indeed, for 
 my part, I know I cannot teach with vigour and 
 spirit for long together, while I am sitting down j and 
 it is hard to expect children to be better in this respect 
 than myself. Dulness and lassitude begin to creep 
 over the mind ; and I confess I like to see a teacher 
 stand up, now and then, and throw a little fire and life 
 into his lesson, as well as occasionally cause his 
 scholars to stand up too. 
 
 In a small class, also, attention may very often bo 
 
 43 
 
THE ART OP 
 
 ■Eustained by causing the children to answer strictly' 
 in turns ; by making them take places^ and by record- 
 ing" the number of times the same boy gets to the 
 top. The little emulation promoted by this plan is 
 favourable to mental activity, and often prevents a 
 lesson from becoming- dull. It requires to be rather 
 skilfully manag-ed, and needs a good disciplinarian to 
 conduct it ; but I have seen the plan used with very 
 great success, and excite great interest on the part of the 
 children. It is particularly useful in testing the result 
 of your teaching by questions at the end of each 
 division of the subject, as it applies the test with 
 perfect fairness and uniformity to every child in the 
 class. 
 
 What is called shmdtancous reading may also 
 prove a great help in maintaining the interest and 
 attention, especially of a younger class. Of course it 
 must not be practised in a crowded school-room, when 
 the noise would disturb other classes j unless, indeed, you 
 have tutored your class to read in a quiet and subdued 
 tone (which is a great point in education, and quite 
 worth taking some trouble to obtain). But, if it can be 
 adopted, the plan will occasionally reheve a lesson very 
 much. It is always interesting to children to do some- 
 thing in concert; and if the teacher has a sharp eye, and 
 a quick ear, he can easily secure that every child shall 
 be thoroughly wakefid and attentive. The exercise 
 may often be well varied in this way. The teacher 
 reads a passage slowly, and with correct tone and 
 emphasis alone ; he then reads it a second time, the 
 class joining with him, and reading in unison. He then 
 asks them to be silent, and to keep their eyes fixed 
 on the book while he reads, and to supply any word 
 which he leaves out. Then he reads the passage, 
 pausing freque'ntly, and omitting a word to be supphed 
 44 
 
SECURING ATTENTION. 
 
 l)j the ciiildren. Lastly, he calls upon one and 
 another separately to read the same passag-e. The 
 plan of elliptical reading- is one of the best I know 
 to stimulate watchftilness and fixed attention on the 
 part of the children. I have seen fifty little ones 
 together, their eyes fixed intently on the book, all 
 eager to pronounce the word omitted by the teacher 
 at exactly the right moment. 
 
 There is an indirect method of questioning, too, 
 very familiar to you all, which is founded on the 
 same principle, and may serve a useful purpose in 
 sustaining attention. I mean the use of ellipses, as 
 they are called. The teacher, instead of finishing 
 the sentence himself, pauses suddenly, and requires 
 the children to finish it for him. Good teachers, 
 especially those of infant schools, have long been 
 accustomed to use this method, and have found it 
 very efficacious. Only it must be remembered that it 
 is a device which wants very skilful management. 
 The word left out of the sentence which the children 
 are expected to supply should be one which they ought 
 to remember, and it should also, in every case, be a 
 definite word. There should be no vagueness in the 
 teacher's own mind, as to what he expects ; there should 
 be one way, and only one way, in which the sentence 
 can be properly finished. The word omitted, more- 
 over, should be one which it requires a little effort to 
 recollect ; it should not be the mere echo of the word 
 just uttered. , And it is just as necessary in the use of 
 ellipses, as in the practice of questioning, to take care 
 that there is no guessing, and no merely mechanical 
 utterance of a word to which the child attaches no 
 meaning. The elliptical method is an admirable 
 device for keeping up the attention, especially of little 
 children ; but it can never be made a substitute for 
 
 45 
 
THE ART OP 
 
 g-ood questioning, for the simple reason tnat it only 
 demands a single word, and can never enable you to 
 be sure that the learner understands the whole sen- 
 tence, of which the word forms a part. 
 
 Again : one of the gTeatest safeguards for the atten- 
 tion of the class is the cultivation on the teacher's part 
 of quickness of eye and ear. It is surprising some 
 times to see teachers addressing themselves to one 
 part of their class, and apparently unconscious that 
 another part is listless and uninterested. They seem 
 incapable of taking* in the whole class at one glance. 
 Their eyes move slowly, and they either do not see the 
 disorder and trifling which lurks in the corner of their 
 class, or they do not care to notice what it would give 
 them some little trouble to remedy. A person of this 
 kind will never keep up attention, nor prove a success- 
 M teacher, however well he may be provided with 
 knowledge, and however anxious he may be to do 
 good. 
 
 What every good teacher greatly needs, is a quick 
 eye, and a comprehensive glance, which will take in 
 the whole class at one view, or travel instantly from 
 one part of it to the other. He should be able to 
 detect the first rising- of disorder and the first symptom 
 of weariness in an instant, and to apply a remedy 
 to it the next instant. It is from want of promptitiide 
 in noticing' the little beginnings of inattention that 
 our classes so often get disorderly and tired. I recom- 
 mend every one who wants to be a good teacher, there- 
 fore, to cultivate in himself the habit of sharpness and 
 watchfulness. He should so train himself, that he 
 shall become peculiarly sensitive about the little signs 
 of inattention. It ought to make him uncomfortable 
 to see one child's eye averted, or one prootj however 
 )mall, that the thoughts of the class are straying from 
 46 
 
SECURING ATTENTION. 
 
 the subject. The surest way to increase inattention 
 is to seem unconscious of it, or to allow it to pass 
 unnoticed. I would have every teacher here ask 
 himself these questions : " Can I see the whole of my 
 class? Do I stand or sit so that the slightest movement 
 or whisper on the part of any single child will be 
 apparent to me in a moment? Do the children all 
 know that, whatever happens, I am sure to notice it? 
 Do I allow myself to remain at ease during- inatten- 
 tion? Have I g-ot used to it by long practice, and 
 become reconciled to it, or does it pain me to dis- 
 cover even a slight proof of it? Do I, in short, 
 make it a practice never to go on with my lesson until 
 I have recovered attention ? " Unless you can answer 
 these questions satisfactorily, you will always be 
 plagued with inattention. For, among the minor cha- 
 racteristics of a successM teacher, few things are 
 so important as alacrity of movement; promptitude 
 and readiness both in seeing and hearing ; skill in 
 finding out, at a moment's notice, who is the idlest boy 
 in the class, and in gi\^ng him a question, or giving 
 him a verse to read, or making him stand up at once, 
 Defore his mind becomes thoroughly alienated from the 
 subject, and before the contagion of his example has 
 had time to spread among the rest. A sluggish, 
 heavy, inactive-looking teacher, can never gain the 
 sympathy of children, or keep up their attention 
 
 long. 
 
 I have called all these mechanical methods of sus- 
 taining attention, because no one of them has anything 
 to do with the matter of teaching, or with the treat- 
 ment of the subject ; but they are simply external and 
 subordinate contrivances for keeping the attention of 
 a class from flagging. Of course no one needs, espe- 
 ciallv in a class of elder children, to ado])t all these 
 
 47 
 
THE ART OP 
 
 methods at once, and the better a teacher is, the 
 hetter able he will be to do without some of them; bnt 
 we all need to keep them in mind sometimes. And I 
 want, before I pass on to the more important part of 
 the subject, just to remind you that all I have said on 
 this point is founded on two principles: first, that 
 the nature of childliood, its ph3^sical weakness, above 
 all, its restlessness and need for change should be 
 fairly taken into account and provided for by a teacher, 
 and not set down as faults, or fi^owned down by 
 authority: and, secondly, that every child under a 
 teacher's care should always feel that there is some- 
 thing* for him to do. Continual employment is the 
 great antidote to inattention. I think, that if you will 
 keep these principles in view, you will be induced to 
 invent many expedients for keeping up the vivacity 
 and interest of a class besides those which I havo 
 named. 
 
 Closely allied to what I have called mechanical 
 methods is one which, however, needs some intelligence 
 to put it in operation. I mean the practice oirecapitU" 
 lation, by diligent and thorough interrogation, not 
 only at the end of the whole lesson, but also at tlie 
 end of each separate division of it. This is of great im- 
 portance in sustaining the interest of a class. Children 
 are not likely to take much pains in receiving and 
 remembering a lesson unless they know thtit their 
 memory is sure to be tested ; and that, however many 
 facts or truths you teach, you are sure to wish to 
 hear of them again. Every lesson should be planned 
 out in the teacher's own mind, so as to consist of tvro 
 or three distinct portions. I do not mean that lie 
 should talk about " firstly, secondly, and thirdl}^," to 
 his class, or make any needless display of the skeleton 
 or framework of his lesson; but a clear logical divi- 
 i3 
 
SECURING ATTENTIOJT. 
 
 sion of the subject into two or three portions is indis- 
 pensable to the teacher himself; and at the end of 
 each of these, he should go over the gTOund thoroughly, 
 and challenge the children to give him back all he 
 has taught. When boys become habituated to this, 
 they learn to expect it as a matter of course; and are 
 therefore induced to prepare for it, by much closer 
 attention than would otherwise seem necessary to 
 them. I always made it a practice, in my own class, 
 at a Sunday school, not only to recapitulate the lesson 
 just taught, but also to spend the first ten minutes of 
 every Sunday afternoon in giving a few questions on 
 the lesson of the preceding Sunday. I kept a record 
 0^ those who answered best, and rewarded them by 
 an extra mark or ticket- With elder boys, also, I 
 alway required the substance of last Sunday's lesson 
 to be written down on paper, in the course of the 
 week, and brought to me each Sunday. One conse- 
 quence of this was, that some of the boys brought note 
 books with them ; and it is certain that far closer atten- 
 tion was paid to my teaching than before. Of course, 
 this plan involves the necessity of some system and 
 method, and of some little trouble too ; for all the papers 
 require to be taken home and read by the teacher. 
 But of one thing we may be quite sure ; no one of us, 
 child or man, ever takes pains to grasp a subject, or 
 fasten it in our memories, unless we expect in some 
 way to find a use for it hereafter. So, if we wish to 
 get a real effort of attention frrm children, we must 
 do it by leading them to expect that their knowledge 
 will be asked for again ; by showing them that when 
 we have once taught a thing, we do not forget it, but 
 are sure to return to it; it may be half an hour hence, 
 or it may be a week hence, but at any rate certainly 
 and systematically. 
 
 49 
 
THE AUT OF 
 
 One of the most efficient means of kindling the 
 interest, and chaining- the attention of children, is the 
 power of using- good and striking- illustrations. The 
 best teachers are always those who, in addition to a 
 knowledg-e of their subject, and the other^ qualifica- 
 tions which are necessary, possess also w^hat may be 
 called pictorial power. By this I mean the power of 
 describing scenes and incidents, so that they shall 
 appear to a child's imagination as if they were really 
 present to him. Now, we must always remember 
 that the imagination is a very active faculty in a 
 child. It is developed far earlier in the life of all 
 of us than the judgment, and those reasoning powers 
 which we are often prematurely anxious to cultivate. 
 Every teacher, therefore, should know how to ad- 
 dress himself to this faculty, and should be able to 
 gratify that love of description which is so natural 
 to a child. Now, how many of us are there, I 
 should like to know, who can tell a story well, or 
 who can so describe a thing which we have seen, 
 that those who hear our descrij^tion shall think they 
 can almost see it too ? Yet a man is never a perfect 
 teacher until he can do this ; and no appeals to the 
 reason and the conscience and the feelings of a child 
 w411be so effective as they might be unless we can also 
 appeal to his imagination. Need I remind you how 
 constantly this is recognised in the Word of God ; how 
 continually the Bible writers, and especially the great 
 Teacher himself, condescended to the weakness of 
 man in this respect, and addressed their teachings not 
 to the understanding directly, but indirectly, through 
 the medium of the senses and the imagination. What 
 else is the meaning of our Lord's parables ? What 
 else are those glowing Eastern metaphors, sparkling 
 like rich gems over the whole surface of the Bible, 
 50 
 
SECURING ATTENTION. 
 
 but helps to the comprehension of great tiiTths— opti- 
 cal instruments, so to speak, throug'h which our dim 
 / eyes might hehold doctrines and principles and deep 
 lessons, which otherwise they could not have perceived ? 
 Now, it is almost unnecessary to say much as to the 
 power of exciting- attention which a teacher possesses 
 who is able to use good illustrations. We all know 
 what an advantage such a teacher has over others. 
 We have all observed, when a scene is picturesquely 
 described, or a striking illustration brought forw^ard, 
 or a story told, how the faces of the children have 
 Hghted up with interest, and their eyes have been fixed 
 upon the speaker. But, perhaps, while we all ac- 
 knowledge the attractiveness of pictorial teaching, 
 we have not all duly considered its usefulness, nor the 
 reasons which give it its peculiar force and value. 
 Let us look for a moment at an example or two. 
 When we read in the Psalms the words, " The Lord 
 God is a sun and shield," we know, and every child 
 knows, that the words are not literally true, but must 
 be thought of a little before they can be understood. 
 So we «ay to ourselves, " What does this mean ? The 
 sun is the great source of light and cheerfulness, and 
 a shield is something with which soldiers defend them- 
 selves in battle. Therefore, this must mean that God's 
 presence and favour make a man glad and happy, and 
 at the same time shelter him from danger." Suppose 
 all this has passed through our minds ; we have got 
 the knowledge of a great truth in a somewhat indirect 
 way, it is true 5 but we are far more likely to be 
 impressed by it, and to remember it, than if the 
 literal fact had been conveyed to us in plain lan- 
 guage. And why so ? Because we have had a share 
 in finding out the truth for ourselves j because the 
 mind was not called upon passively to receive a truth 
 
 51 
 
THE ART OF 
 
 in the form of direct statement; but to exert itself a 
 little, first in interpreting a metaphor, and, secondly, 
 in drawini^ a conclusion from it. We are always far 
 more interested by what we have had a hand in win- 
 ning for ourselves, than by w^hat is merely communi- 
 cated to us as a favour, or enforced on us by authorit}^ 
 Which of us has not a deeper feeling of the Saviour's 
 tenderness and compassion, after reading the parable 
 of the Good Shepherd, than we could ever have had 
 otherwise ? When we read, " The name of the Lord 
 is a strong tower, the righteous runneth into it and is 
 safe ;" or, " As the mountains are about Jerusalem, so 
 the Lord is round about his people ;" " As the hart 
 panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul 
 after thee, God:" or, when we come upon that 
 glorious description in the Apocalypse of ^' a city 
 which hath no need of the sun, neither of the moon 
 to shine in it, for the Lord God doth lighten it, and 
 the Lamb is the light thereof," we are conscious that, 
 over and above the value of the truths thus imparted, 
 we receive a certain gratification from the form in 
 which the truth is presented, and are pleased to have 
 had something given us which we have been able to 
 interpret for ourselves. 
 
 Consider again, in regard to the lessons which lie 
 hid in allegories and stories, that we often receive 
 them far more effectively into our minds for the very 
 reason that they are indirect, and do not at first seem 
 to apply to ourselves. If we obtrude our moral 
 teaching too early, or if we begin by telling the chil- 
 dren that we hope they will learn a usefid lesson from 
 what we are going to say, children fancy that we are 
 preaching, and are, perhaps, indisposed to listen. But 
 if we take care that the religious truth, or the rule o) 
 conduct, which we wish to enforce, seems sponta-' 
 52 
 
SECURING ATTENTION. 
 
 neously to g*row out of the lesson, and keeps its place 
 as an inference to be g-athered from the story we are 
 telling, it is far more likely to be efficacious. When 
 Nathan was commissioned to reprove David, you know 
 that if he had g-one at once, and taxed him with the 
 offence, and said, " You have committed a g-reat sin, 
 and I am come to rebuke you," David would probably 
 have been prepared with some answer. That was a 
 form of accusation which he very likely anticipated ; 
 and, we do not doubt, he had so armed himself with 
 pleas of self-justification, and so skilfully *^manag-ed" 
 his conscience, that the charge would scarcely have 
 impressed him at all. But, instead of this, the 
 Prophet began to tell him a narrative. ^' There were 
 two men in one city, the one rich, and the other poor." 
 He went on further, as you know, detaihngthe vario-is 
 incidents of his story, until "David's anger was 
 greatly kindled against the man," and he exclaimed, 
 *^ A.S the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this 
 thmg shall surely die." Not till the solemn words, 
 "Thou art the man!" had been uttered in his hearirg, 
 did the conviction come thoroughly home to his heart 
 that he was really guilty. Now, why was it that 
 Nathan's method was so effective? Because David 
 had listened with interest to the story without sup- 
 posing that it concerned him. His judgment was 
 <?lear and unbiassed, and he came to the right con- 
 clusion before he perceived that the conclusion applied 
 to himself. How much deeper and more permanent 
 was the impression thus made than if the prophet had 
 confined himself to a plain, literal examination of the 
 right and wrong of David's own case. And we may 
 see the same thing illustrated in our Lord's parables 
 constantly, that they not only chain the attention of 
 the listener by their pictorial character, but they set 
 
 53 
 
THE ART OP 
 
 him tliinking" for himself, and drawing inferences 
 about truths of the hig-hest value, almost without being 
 aware of it. The most effective lessons which enter 
 the human heart are not those which take the form of 
 lessons. It is when we are least conscious of the 
 process by which we are impressed that we are im- 
 pressed most deeply. And it is for this reason, if for 
 no other, that the indirect teaching- which is wrapped 
 up in stories and metaphors often secures more atten- 
 tion than teaching of a more direct and didactic kind. 
 
 But it is very likely that some of you may be dis- 
 posed to answer, '^ Yes, I know that teaching, when 
 well illustrated by stories and parables, is far more 
 interesting to children than if it is foil of dry stnte- 
 ments ; but, then, the power to choose such illustrations 
 wisely, and to make a good use of them, is, after all, 
 a very rare power, and a very difficult one to acquire. 
 I do not possess it, and I do not know how to get it. 
 Besides, the creative genius which can invent skilful 
 illustrations, is a special gift. It is rather the attribute 
 of a poet than a teacher. I must learn to do without it." 
 
 Now, I cannot help sympathizing with anyone who 
 speaks thus, but I should like to encourage him a 
 little nevertheless. We may all mend ourselves a 
 great deal in this respect, if we try. Suppose we 
 endeavour to remember Carefully things which we 
 have seen, and to describe them afterwards. Suppose 
 we practise ourselves a little more than we do in the 
 art of telling a story. Suppose, when we have read 
 of a circumstance, or meet with one which has in- 
 terested us, we sit down and try to reproduce it in our 
 own language in writing. Suppose we watch carefully 
 the sort of illustration and metaphor which excites 
 our own attention, and then carefully husband it in 
 our memories, with a view to mailing use of it in our 
 54 
 
SECURING ATTENTION-. 
 
 classes. Suppose, when we lire g'oin^ to give a lesson 
 on some Bible narrative, we study all its details and 
 nil its surrounding' circumstances so well, that we can 
 almost realize the picture of it to ourselves. Sup- 
 pose, in short, we always keep in view the necessity 
 of rendering' our teaching' more vivid, and are always 
 on the watch for material by which it may be made 
 more so ; I believe that we shall make a step in the 
 ri^ht direction at least. Any man whose heart is in 
 his work may do all this, and may become a very 
 interesting teacher, without being* a poet, and without 
 possessing any peculiar natural gifts. If you g"o to 
 the sea-side, and hear the rolling- of the waves, or if 
 you stand on a hill in view of some fair landscape, 
 which the summer sun lights up with unusual glory, 
 try to retain your impressions, and see how far you 
 are able to convey the picture of the scene to others. 
 If you want to give a lesson on St. Paul's preaching 
 at Athens, try to find out what it was that the apostle 
 could see as he stood on Mars Hill, with the temples 
 of Minerva and of Theseus near him ; with an eag-er, 
 inquisitive crowd thronging' round his feet; with the 
 altar, and its mysterious inscription, '^ to the unknown 
 God," just in sight ; and with the blue waters of the 
 Pirreus spreading* out beyond. And if you will do 
 this ; and if, meanwhile, you take care that your love 
 of illustration never betrays you into levity or trifling ; 
 that you never tell stories for the sake of telling 
 stories, but always for the sake of some valuable 
 lesson which the story illustrates, I cannot doubt 
 that, by God's blessing, you will become possessed, 
 not only of one of the best instruments for keeping 
 up the attention of little chilcben, but also of a key 
 which will unlock their hearts. 
 
 Another hint, which it seems to me is sometimes 
 
 65 
 
THE ART OP 
 
 needed most by those who are the best teachers, is 
 this — Do not g-et into a stereotyped, routine metlwd 
 of giving" lessons. You will come here often, perhaps, 
 and hear a g-ood model lesson ; you will admire its 
 style and its method j you will think it, perhaps, th^» 
 best lesson you ever heard. But do not suppose that 
 is a reason for imitating- its method precisely next 
 Sunday, and for casting* all 3^ our lessons into tlifc 
 same mould. Different subjects admit of and require 
 great diversity of treatment j and even if they did not, 
 it would still be necessary to vary your mode of 
 teaching- constantly, for the sake of sustaining- and 
 keeping- alive the interest of your class. Illustration, 
 such as I have spoken of just now, is not always 
 equally desirable 5 the lesson will not always fall into 
 the same number of divisions ; questions must not 
 always be given in the same proportion, or at the 
 same times. Almost ever}'- lesson does, in fact, demand 
 a different treatment ; and thoug-h there may be some 
 one course which, on the whole, we have reason to 
 prefer, we should not confine ourselves to it, but look 
 into the nature of each subject when we are preparing"- 
 it, and determine what is the best form in which it is 
 likely to present itself to the mind. Besides, the 
 method which is best for one teacher is not always 
 the best for another ; and no teacher is worth much 
 who does not exercise a little originality and inde- 
 pendence in the construction of those methods which 
 are best suited to his special circumstances, and to 
 what he knows to be the character of the children 
 who compose his class. At any rate, remember that 
 uniform methods have a tendency to destroy interest, 
 and that prompt attention can only be kept up by 
 varying- our plans as occasion may require. 
 . Again, it is very desirable thai there should be a 
 £-6 
 
SECURING ATTENTION". 
 
 colicrcnce and iinity about the lessons of each Sunday, 
 so that the passag-e learnt by heart, and the hymns to 
 be repeated, shall all have reference to the main sub- 
 ject of the day's lesson, and be in harmony with it. 
 If possible, also, the lessons of each week should often 
 be continuous, so that a particular portion of the 
 Word of God should be throroughly and exhaustively 
 examined. By this means attention may often be 
 concentrated upon a certain book or narrative for a 
 succession of lessons, and the interest in these lessons 
 may be kept up. We must beware of dissipating the 
 attention of children, by leading them too hastily from 
 one subject to another, or by giving them too many 
 lessons which seem to have no mutual connection. 
 This point is secured by the published lessons of the 
 Sunday School Union ; but it is of very great import- 
 ance whatever lessons are used. Take a Bible Class 
 for elder scholars, for example. A youth, who has 
 had his mind chained down for a series of lessons 
 to the investigation of one portion, however small, of 
 the Word of God ; who has examined it thoroughly ; 
 learnt texts and verses of hymns, which throw light 
 upon it, or embody its truths; who has had all 
 its hard words explained; has received much illus- 
 trative information about it; has been directed to 
 the passages in library books which may be helpful 
 in comprehending it, will never forget it as long as he 
 lives. He will have a high standard in his mind as 
 to the way in which Scripture should be studied. He 
 will have a sort of fixed centre of knowledge, round 
 which much of his future knowledge will cluster and 
 arrange itself, and he will certainly be more likely to 
 pay attention to the teaching when he sees that there 
 is a purpose and a unity about it, than when he feels 
 it to be desultory and unconnected, and knows that if 
 
 57 
 
THE ART OF 
 
 he misses one portion, the loss will not affect hi3 
 comprehension of the rest. 
 
 But one of the main safeg-uards of attention, after 
 all, is to determine, that, whatever you teach, you will 
 not go on unless you carry the whole class with you. 
 Very often we 'set down in our minds exactly what is 
 the area which the lesson is to cover, and how much 
 we mean to teach. We then go into the class, and 
 find, perhaps, that we are not getting on so fast as we 
 expected. So we push on hastily, in order that the 
 plan on which we determined shall be carried out. 
 Meanwhile, attention has flagged; stumbling-blocks 
 have revealed themselves which we have not had time 
 to remove, and we discover at the end that only one 
 or two have kept pace with us. Now, it is far better 
 to do a little thoroughly than to do a great deal super- 
 ficially and unsoundly. We all know that. So it is 
 far better to give half our intended lesson than the 
 whole, if only the half could be well understood. We 
 do not come to the Sunday school so much that we 
 may give lessons, as that the children may receive 
 them. Let us determine, therefore, that however little 
 we teach, the whole of that little shall be learnt. Let 
 us stop and recapitulate very often, especially if the 
 class seems languid and indifferent; let us think no time 
 lost which is spent in satisfying ourselves that what 
 has been said is understood, and that we are making 
 sure of our ground as we are going on. Let us pause 
 whenever necessary, and put questions especially to 
 the least attentive members of the class. And let us 
 determine at every step to secure that the whole of the 
 children are advancing with us. It is wonderful to 
 see how often really intelligent and valuable teachers 
 seem to forget this. They take for granted that what 
 is so clear to them, and what is evidently so plain to 
 68 
 
SECURING ATTENTION. 
 
 one or two, is therefore communicated to the whole 
 of their pupils, whereas they ought to have evidence 
 step by step of the fact. They should remember that 
 attention once lost is a difficult thing- to recover, and 
 they should therefore be careful not to lose it. I am 
 sure that more of us lose attention by g'oing* on too 
 fast, and by attempting to teach too much, than we 
 are inclined to believe. The best teacher is he who is 
 never afraid of the drudgery of repeating, and going 
 back, and questioning in many different forms; and 
 who is content to move slowly, if only he can make 
 the dullest member of the class move with him. 
 After all, it is by the dull boy that you should measure 
 your own progress in a lesson; not by the quick one. 
 Move with the worst learner, not with the best, and 
 then your pace will be sure at least, even though it be 
 not very rapid. 
 
 And now I wish to remind you, before we separate, 
 of two or three general, but very practical truths 
 connected with what maybe called the ''philosophy 
 of attention." The first of these is, that it is an act 
 of the will. It is the one of all the mental faculties 
 which is most under our own control. We can all be 
 attentive, or at least more attentive than we are, if 
 we wish to be so. The degree of attention we pay, 
 therefore depends on our own disposition to attend. 
 This shows us that the matter, after all, is very 
 largely one of discrpline, and that, all other things 
 being equal, that teacher will win most attention who 
 has most personal influence, and who is looked up to 
 witl the greatest respect. Is there any one of you 
 whom the children are accustomed to treat with dis- 
 respect? Do any of you find 3'our commands dis- 
 obeyed, and your look of anger disregarded ? Depend 
 upon it. if this be the case, that the disposition to 
 
 59 
 
THE ART OP 
 
 attend to your teaching* ^'i'l not exist, and that you 
 are sure to have trouble in your class. Depend upon 
 it, also, that there is something* in your own conduct, 
 or manner, or character, which does not entitle you to 
 be looked up to as you oug-ht to be. Ask yourself, in 
 that case, whether your own behaviour is uniform and 
 dignified j whether you ever give commands without 
 seeing- that they are obeyed; whether you waste your 
 words or your influence in any injudicious way j whether 
 there is anything* in your conduct that reveals to the 
 children a want of punctuality, or of earnestness, or 
 of steadiness on ^^our part. For children are very 
 keen observers of character, and, in the long* run, are 
 sure to feel loyalty and afiection for one who is 
 manifestly anxious to do them g'ood, and who can be 
 uniformly relied on in word and deed. There can be 
 no thorough attention unless you accustom yourself to 
 have perfect order; and therefore every step you can 
 take to secure better discipline, and to g-ain more 
 influence over the minds of the children, will indi- 
 rectly tell upon the deg-ree of attention you will obtain 
 in teaching*. 
 
 Nor must we forget that attention is a habit, and 
 subject to the same laws which regulate all other 
 habits. These laws are very simple, and are very 
 easy to understand. Every act we perform to-day 
 becomes all the easier to perform to-morrow, simply 
 because we have performed it to-day. And every 
 duty we neglect to perform to-day becomes harder to 
 perform to-morrow, and harder still the next day. 
 Every faculty and power we possess is d-aily becoming 
 either stronger or weaker: we cannot stand still, and 
 our characters are becoming* hardened and stereotyped 
 eveiy day, whether we wish or not — hardened, too, 
 we must recollect, not according to what we think, or 
 6U 
 
SECURING ATTENTION". 
 
 to what we wish to be, but according to what we do* 
 Therefore, every time we hsten kinguidly to an 
 address, or read a book carelessly, the habit of in- 
 attention becomes strengthened, and it becomes less 
 and less possible for us ever to become clear thinkers 
 or steady reasoners. On the other hand, suppose we 
 determine to make a great effort, and resolutely bind 
 down our whole thoughts to a subject, the next time 
 we wish to do the same thing the effort required will 
 be less painful ; the third time less painful still ; until, 
 at length, the habit of attention will grow on us, and 
 will become easy and pleasant to us. What is the 
 practical inference to be drawn from these simple 
 truths ? Why, that in all we do in scho.ols, the habit 
 of strict attention to rules should be cultivated, in 
 little things as well as in great. If a boy is allowed 
 to be unpunctual, to miscall words without being com- 
 pelled to go back and correct himself^ to read how he 
 likes, to answer when he likes, to sit down when he 
 is told to stand, to repeat tasks inaccurately, and to 
 give a half-hearted attention to the minor rules of the 
 school, of course he will give half-hearted attention 
 to the teaching'. It would be wonderful if he did not. 
 The habit of inattention is strengthened in little 
 things, and necessarily shows itself in great. Do not, 
 therefore, think lightly of the minor acts by which 
 obedience and promptitude, and close watchfulness, 
 can be cultivated. See that these minor acts are done 
 well, and you will find that in this way the habit of 
 listening attentively to your teaching will be confirmed. 
 And, besides this, it is necessary to recollect that 
 Sunday school teachers, like all other teachers, have 
 a great deal to do with the formation of the in- 
 tellectual habits which will cling to their pupils for 
 the rest of their lives. Of course, apart Irom the 
 
 01 
 
THE ART OP 
 
 primary and immediate object of imparting religious 
 instruction, we oug'lit all to feel some interest in the 
 sort of mental cliaracter which our little scholars are 
 acquiring" during their intercourse with us. We 
 must look forward to the time when the children will 
 be men and women, and consider what sort of men 
 and women we would have them to be. We cannot 
 help desiring that when hereafter they read a book, 
 they shall read seriously; that, when they hear a 
 sermon, they shall not bring preoccupied or wander- 
 ing* minds to what they hear j that, as they move along 
 in life, they shall not be unobservant triHers, gazing 
 in helpless vacancy on the mere surface of things, but 
 shall be able to fix their eyes and their hearts steadily 
 on all the sources of instruction which may be open to 
 them. If they are ever to do this, it is necessary that 
 they should have acquired in youth the power of con- 
 centrating their attention. This power is the one 
 qualification which so often constitutes the main differ- 
 ence between the wise and the foolish, the successful 
 and the unsuccessful man. Attention is the one habit 
 of the human mind which, perhaps more than any 
 other, forms a safeguard for intellectual progress, 
 and even, under the Divine blessing, for moral purity. 
 INow, every time a child comes into your class, this 
 habit is either strengthened or weakened. Some- 
 thino* is sure to be done, while the children are 
 with you, either to make them better or worse in 
 this respect for the whole of their future lives. If 
 you claim and secure perfect obedience ,* if, without 
 being severe, you can be strict enough to enforce dili- 
 gent attention to all you say, you are attaining 
 another important end besides that which is usually 
 contemplated by Sunday school work, for you are 
 developing the intellectual vigour of your scholar, and 
 62 
 
SECURING ATTENTION. 
 
 familiarizing him witli a sort of effort which will be of 
 immense use to him hereafter. But, every time you 
 permit disorder, trilling-, or wandering-, you are helping 
 to lower and vitiate the mental character of your pupils. 
 You are encouraging- them in a bad habit. You are, 
 in fact, doing something to prevent them from ever 
 becoming' thoughtfid readers, dihgent observers, and 
 earnest listeners, as long as they live. 
 
 We are, I hope, brought by these reflections within 
 sight of the one great rule, on which not merely all at- 
 tention, but all true success in teaching depends. Try 
 to feel with the children, to widerstancl their nature.^, 
 and to discern what is going on in their minds. Do 
 not half the faults of our teaching arise from a want 
 of thorough acquaintance with the little ones, and 
 of true insight into their mental and moral nature ? 
 Does not this lie at the root of much of the in- 
 attention of which we complain ? The truth is, that 
 a good teacher ought not only to possess that sympathy 
 which makes him feel for a child, and love him, and 
 try to do him good ; but the sympathy which feels 
 with him, which makes due allowance for his imper- 
 fectly developed nature, and which thoroughly com- 
 prehends his character and wants. Some of you who 
 hear me are young teachers, and it is not so long ago 
 that you were learners. Perhaps you have not for- 
 gotten how you felt then, and what sort of things 
 interested and affected you ; how knowledge looked 
 when it was first presented to your view, and what 
 was the kind of teaching which best secured an 
 entrance for that knowledge into the recesses of your 
 minds. If you have nearly forgotten these things 
 strive with all your might to recall them. As you 
 grow in knowledge, in thoughtfulness, and experience, 
 take diligent care not to lose the remembrance of what 
 
THE ART OP SECURING ATTENTION. 
 
 you were years ag*o. He is always the wisest teacher 
 who can combine the man's intellect and the child's 
 heart; who contrives to keep fresh in his memory the 
 knowledg'e of what he once waS; and what a child's 
 wants, and a child's likes and dislikes, and a child's 
 infirmities really are. We are sometimes so g-lad to 
 find ourselves men, that we take a pleasure in casting- 
 off the traditions, and the habits, and the thoughts, of 
 childhood. But a really earnest and loving Christian 
 teacher will esteem every recollection very precious 
 which helps him better to understand the nature of 
 tlie being on whose heart he is going to work ; he 
 will be very careful not to set up a man's standard to 
 measure a child by ; he will always ask himself — when 
 preparing or giving a lesson — not, ^^ What will it 
 seem proper for me to say ?" But, ^^ What is the 
 thing best adapted for these children to hear ?" He 
 will be careful to cultivate an intimate acquaintance 
 with childhood, and all its little whims and follies. 
 He will ask God daily to enlarge his own heart, and 
 to make him sympathize with every form of childish 
 weakness, except sin -, and he will very diligently lay 
 to heart the secret meaning of the solemn warning 
 which our Saviour addressed to his disciples : '^ Take 
 heed that ye despise not one of these little ones." I 
 think that such a teacher will not want any one to 
 give him rules for sustaining the interest of his class, 
 because he will have g'ood hold of the principle which 
 will enable him to devise rules for himself. I believe 
 that such a teacher will be sure to win attention, 
 and when he has won it, will be likely to keep it. 
 
 James Sears, Printer, Bolt Coui-t, Fleet Street. London, E.G. 
 
 64 
 
MEMORY: 
 
 A LECTURE 
 
 TO 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHERS. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. G. FITCH, M.A, 
 
 ONE OP HER MAJESTY-S INSPECTORS OF SCHOOLS, 
 
 LONDON • 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION. 
 
 56, OLD BAILEY, E.C. 
 
 NEW YOItK: T. NELSON AND SON^ 
 
 137, GRAND STKEET. 
 
 Tracts for Teachers -No. 9 
 
JAMES SIAES, PRJMIEB, BOLT COUET, ILEEl STREET, LONOOK. X.Ct 
 
MEMORY. 
 
 To an association of teachers which meets together 
 in order that its members may study the art which 
 they desire to practise, two kinds of occupation appear 
 to me to be desirable. In the first place, they should 
 know what to do, and to this end should often discuss 
 methods and principles of action; learn what to say 
 and how to say it, when to question and how to 
 question; and so supply themselves with a good code 
 of practical rules for guidance in their work. But, 
 in the second place, it is worth while occasionally to 
 enter on the investigation of more abstract points; 
 matters which, though they may look unpractical at first 
 sight, have, nevertheless, the closest relation to that 
 work. I mean inquiries into the nature of mind, and 
 the character of its ftmctions, and the reasons why 
 one mode of treating a subject is better than another. 
 For are we not workmen, and is not mind the material 
 on which we work ? We do not doubt that a carpenter, 
 who is to fashion wood, or a goldsmith, who undertakes 
 to deal with the precious metals, can only succeed in his 
 trade by knowing minutely the nature and attributes 
 of the substance which he has to handle: what its 
 
4 MEMORY. 
 
 capabilities are; how far it will yield to treatment, and 
 how far it will resist. So it is of paramount importance 
 to a teacher who wishes to succeed in his work, that 
 he should understand something- of the nature and 
 functions of the human mind. It has been said by 
 an ancient philosopher, that ^^on earth there is 
 nothing' great but man: in man there is nothing g'reat 
 but mind." And it is this wonderful, complicated, 
 and noble work of God with which teachers essay to 
 deal: the most mysterious and multiform piece of 
 org-anization in the world! Why, of all the marvels 
 of science, such as in modern times are constantly 
 inviting' us to strain our eyes in wonderment, there is 
 after all no such subHme object of contemplation as a 
 human soul! There is power, and resource, and 
 faculty in the inner man, even of the humblest among- 
 us, which is ten times more marvellous than the most 
 o-igantic and complex piece of mechanism m existence. 
 When therefore we, as teachers, attempt to bring 
 our influence and our will to bear upon the minds 
 and hearts of our fellow creatures, we are assuming 
 a very great responsibility ; and we cannot discharge 
 that responsibility aright, unless we make the 
 workings of the human intellect an object of special 
 study. I shall not apologize, therefore, if to-night I 
 seem to withdraw your thoughts from Sunday school 
 work, as such, and ask you to look into the operation 
 of your own minds. Do not be afraid lest we should 
 be speculative or metaphysical. After all, meta-phy- 
 sical speculation has as close a relation to your work 
 and mine as mathematics to the astronomer, or the 
 
MEMORY. b 
 
 knowledge of scientific meciianics to the engineer. If 
 there be such a thing* as a science of mind, which 
 analyzes intellectual functions, and finds out the laws 
 of their operation, that is clearly the science which it 
 concerns us most, as teachers, to investigate and to 
 understand. 
 
 Now, of all the phenomena of mind, few are more 
 interesting* to us all than those of which we speak 
 compendiously under the names of " Memory" or 
 *^ Recollection." Shakespeare says that man is a being 
 
 ** Of such large discourse, 
 Looking before and after." 
 
 It is this which mainly distinguishes us from the lower 
 animals; that whereas they live wholly in the present 
 — or if they seem conscious of the past, or provident 
 for the future, are so merely in virtue of a blind 
 instinct — man is endowed with a surprising faculty of 
 recalling past thoughts and past events, and making 
 them as much the objects of contemplation at this 
 moment as if they were actually present. He is not 
 merely dependent on what his ej^es can see, or his 
 ears listen to, or his appetites enjoy norOy but he has 
 been endowed with the power of re-creating and 
 re-producing his past impressions, past scenes, and 
 past joys; he has '^ thoughts which wander through 
 eternity;" strange visions of the unseen, or of what 
 was once seen, and which the bodily eye can see 
 no longer. 
 
 In his hour of gloom or despondency he may yet 
 enjoy as vividly as ever the picture of some past 
 
6 MEMORY. 
 
 delig'lit, or feed on the memory of a hnppy moment, 
 w^bicb, though long pnrished in fact^ can never, by 
 the blessed influence of memory, be lost to him on 
 this side of the grave. Or, in the midst of prosperity 
 and abounding wealth, he is jet forced to taste the 
 bitter ashes of repentance, and to recall unforgotten 
 sins. He cannot, even if he would, live wholly in the 
 present : the days that are gone, and the thoughts and 
 notions of past years, will make themselves present to 
 him, and become parts of his being, and of his life. 
 It is the law of his nature, and the condition of his 
 progress, that he should thus be able to remember. 
 
 It is obvious that, as teachers, we are all very 
 anxious to avail ourselves of this wonderful power. 
 It is one of our first duties to reach the memory, and 
 make it retain what we communicate. Perhaps we 
 think of it as a storehouse, in which much may be 
 housed 5 and if so, we want to fill it with what is good : 
 or we think of it as a fair tahlet, on which much may 
 be indelibly written; and we want to cover its pages 
 with what is pure and right : or we think of it as 
 a chain or li7ie, by which old and half-buried thoughts 
 may be recovered from the gulf of the past ; and we 
 long to attach it to some precious relics, so that, when- 
 ever used, it shall only draw up horn, the deep that 
 which will be valuable and helpful to the pupil in 
 after life. 
 
 But there is no end to the similitudes which might 
 be used on this point, nor to the list of different things 
 to which it has been compared. I would rather, 
 however, invite you to think of memory not as a 
 
MEMORY. 7 
 
 thing, but as a faculty; to dismiss all metaphor, 
 and simpl}^ to ask yourselves the questions, " What 
 is it which happens in the mind when we say that 
 we remember a thing-? How does this power of 
 remembering' operate? How far is it under ou? own 
 control? What is the sort of discipline by which it 
 may be made to do the greatest quantity of work, 
 and so to subserve our highest intellectual interests?" 
 To all teachers these questions are important. They 
 all undertake to cultivate the memories of children; 
 they set lessons to be learnt by heart; they are grieved 
 and humbled when their teaching* is forgotten : they 
 are, therefore, especially interested to know what 
 memory is, and what can be done and ought to be 
 done with it. 
 
 Now, the first thing- that strikes me when I look 
 into my own niind is, that the various thoughts and 
 notions which keep passing' through it do not come 
 singly, but seem to be connected with one another. 
 It seems as if it was in the nature of things that when- 
 ever any single idea is present to my mind, it sho'ald 
 bring- some other idea with it. We are not always 
 equally conscious of this ; for while our eyes are open, 
 or we are listening- to another's voice, or any one of 
 the senses is exerting' itself, we are, of course, at the 
 mercy of external suggestion, and we surrender our 
 minds, as it were, to follow the current of thought 
 suggested from without. Thus, those of you who are 
 doing me the favour to listen to what I say at this 
 moment, and to follow it carefully, are resigning the 
 current of your thoughts, so to speak, to my guidance, 
 
y MEMORY. 
 
 and tlie train of ideas is the result of external siig'g-estion, 
 not of any internal process. But suppose that my voice 
 v/as silent, that this room was in darkness, that you 
 were quietly sitting- alone, and that 3^ou let your mind 
 have its own way, without any sort of direction from 
 without ; you would then find yourself thinking* about 
 many things, perhaps strange and unusual, but never- 
 theless just as numerous, and your ideas would be 
 just as vivid as those are which you are now deriving* 
 from your senses of vision and hearing. You would 
 notice, also, if you took pains to examine what was 
 going on in such circumstances, that the images and 
 pictures which thus kept passing through your minds, 
 w^hether they marched in slow and solemn procession, 
 or hurried along with the rapidity of a torrent, were 
 yet not wholly disjointed and incongruous. You 
 might be bewildered by their variety, or startled by 
 their strangeness, but if you stopped for a moment, and 
 dwelt on any two contiguous ideas, you would discover 
 some link of connection between them,- you would 
 find that each one had, in fact, suggested the next. 
 You might be thinking of Sebastopol j and then, in fin 
 instant, of the siege of Jerusalem; and then of Titus, 
 and of the Romans ; and then of methods of Roman 
 warfare ; and then of the different forms of heroism ; 
 ana then of the brave Arctic voyagers, and the enemies 
 which they had to encounter; the biting cold, the 
 darkness, and the long, desolate winter in the ice. It 
 might be that all these images were present to your 
 minds in the space of two or three seconds ; but what I 
 want you to observe is, that between each of them and 
 
MEMORY. y 
 
 its successor there is a kind of mental fie or link. Either 
 by resemblance or by contrast, or by connecting cause 
 and effect, or perhaps even by something" so trivial as 
 the accidental likeness between two names or words, 
 each thought which comes before the mind, comes to 
 it, in some sort, as a sequel to the last, each brin g3 
 another with it. When the mind is at liberty to act, 
 tliis is ahvaj's the law of its action. Even when the 
 mind is not acting independently, but is influenced by 
 words which are brought before it, it is simply because 
 the words suggest certain thoughts. Your minds 
 have learned by long practice to associate particular 
 meanings with particular words; and hence, wiien 
 I utter the words, the meanings come with them, 
 unbidden, by virtue of external suggestion. So when 
 we see pictures or landscapes, the mind never contents 
 itself with the reception merely of the intelligence or 
 the image which the eye brings to it, but is always 
 led to think of something else ; to draw some reflec- 
 tion, to make some comparison, to contemplate some- 
 thing which either has happened, will happen, or 
 might happen. That is what philosophers call the 
 law of association, or mental suggestion. And thus 
 the history of all our knowledge is the history of the 
 associatioixS which our minds form. Whether a mind 
 be well developed and well stocked, on the one hand, 
 or feeble and badly taught, on the other, depends 
 mainly on the nature of its habits with regard to this 
 one principle of suggestion or association. If, when 
 one thought comes before a mind, it brings others 
 with it which are useful and ennobling, we say the 
 
10 MEMORY. 
 
 mind is a liealtliy one. If, on the other hand, the 
 occurrence of one thought only hring-s vag-ue, or 
 trivial, or worthless ideas in its train, the mind is not 
 in health. 
 
 For instance, suppose when the thought of William 
 the Conqueror is brought before my mind, it brings 
 with it the notion of some other conqueror, as Julius 
 Caesar, and I am led instantly to institute a comparison 
 between the two, and to determine how far one 
 resembled the other, and in what they differed, there 
 is an exercise Q>i judgment. Suppose, however, that 
 when the thought is before me, there instantly comes 
 into my mind a consideration of the causes of that 
 conquest, its effects on the English character, and the 
 general results of military despotism ; the effort which 
 my mind makes is what is called reasoning, but 
 is, nevertheless, nothing but a peculiar kind of 
 mental suggestion. Or again, if the conception of 
 that event, when it arises in my mind, suggests to me 
 some analogies in the moral or material world, or 
 some striking metaphor, or reveals to me some subtle, 
 underlying truth, which gives unity and harmony to 
 my whole conception of that one event, considered as 
 a type of others, then the imagination is said to be 
 employed. It may be that the name of the Conqueror 
 only brings with it some merely verbal assonance ; a 
 playful or accidental analogy, such as strikes a quick 
 ear, or a lively superficial fancy ; and then we may call 
 the result wit, or humour, or even a pun. Lastly, if, 
 when the name of the Conqueror is mentioned, there 
 come up at the same time the date 1066, the name and 
 
MEMORY. 11 
 
 position of Normandy, the particulars of the battle of 
 Hasting-s, and the new form of g-overnment which the 
 Normans established — if, in fact, the particular thoug-ht 
 broug-lit before me only bring's in its train those other 
 words and thoughts which have been connected with it 
 before — we say there is an effort of recollection, and 
 the power is called memory. Now, all these mental 
 phenomena depend alike on the laws of association. 
 Whether a niLin is a logician, or a poet, or a wit, or a 
 philosopher, he is so by virtue of the peculiar habit of 
 his mind, and the sort of link by which his thoughts 
 are g-enerally connected. But when we say a person 
 has a g'ood memory, we mean that his mind is so 
 constituted that associations once formed in it are 
 permanent ; that, having- once heard of two or more 
 things together, each one ever after suggests the 
 other ; that it is easy for him to recall circumstances, 
 names, events, and thoughts which have once been 
 brought before him in mental connection, and to know 
 that they have been thus connected. 
 
 Now, when we look at these several mental fiiculties, 
 we are led to inquire which of them it is most im- 
 portant to us as teachers to cultivate. I know what 
 reply teachers used to give to this question. The 
 memory, of course. What is teaching but storing the 
 mind with facts? Hence, in all the old-fashioned 
 schools — perhaps in those which we went to in 
 childhood — you know that the whole education, so 
 called, consisted in learning tasks; saying by heart 
 certain words from a book. There was little or 
 nothing else. And you know what a hard, dry, 
 
12 MEMORY. 
 
 wearisome thing that perpetual gTindmg away at the 
 memory was. Well, when education beo-an to he 
 looked at with a little more care, there came a reaction 
 against this system. Pious and benevolent men, like 
 Lancaster, or Pestalozzi, or David Stow, or Wilderspin, 
 rose up to say, " This will never do. We must not 
 crush the mental energies of a child in this way. We 
 do not want so much to fill him with the thoughts of 
 other men, as to teach him how to think. He has got 
 reason, judgment, reflection, thoughtfulness, perception; 
 and all these are nobler faculties than memory; we 
 will try to cultivate them. He is a thinking being-, 
 with a destiny to accomplish, a life to live, and a soul 
 to be saved, and we want to develop his active 
 powers, and not merely to fill him with the acquisitions 
 which have been gained by other men." So it became 
 the fashion among teachers to seek to address them- 
 selves to the judgment of their children, and to try 
 rather to carry the sympathies of their pupils with 
 them, and to convey to them the power to use some- 
 thing hke spontaneous efforts after the attainment of 
 knowledge, than to be able to reproduce the words or 
 thoughts of others. And accordingly, it has come to 
 pass, that in many schools this faculty of memory has 
 come to be very much disregarded, and almost despised, 
 as if it were not worth attention. Now you know 
 that the opposite of wrong is not always right; and 
 you will agree with me, that those who have sought 
 to discredit the memory, and to dispense with it in 
 their teaching, hiive perlinps been almost as far fi?oni 
 the truth as those who relied too much upon it. We 
 
MEMORY. 13 
 
 want, of course, to know what is the true place which 
 this power holds in education ; and I think that to do 
 this we have only to look into our own experience, 
 and just ask ourselves what share it has had in our 
 own development. When jou and I try to answer 
 this question, I think we shall say to ourselves, '^ I 
 know that the best and most valuable part of my 
 training- has been that which has set my own mind at 
 work. It is when I have observed, and reasoned, and 
 reriected, and drawn my own conclusions, that I have 
 felt my mind to be g-athermg- the greatest strength." 
 On the whole, we find verified in our own experience 
 Covvper's beautiful distinctions between knowledge and 
 wisdom : 
 
 " Knowledge dwells 
 In heads replete with thoughts of other men ; 
 Wisdom in heads attentive to their own." 
 
 And just as wisdom is a higher thing than knowledge, 
 because it dei)ends rather on the creative and origin- 
 ating powers of the mind than on its mere power of 
 reception ; so reason, and judgment, and intelligence, 
 are higher faculties than memory, because by them we 
 can originate new thoughts, while by the latter we 
 cnn only reproduce old ones. Yet, for all this, how 
 much richer we should all be if we had better 
 memories ! How many precious truths, and sparkling 
 illustrations, and suggestive ideas, and burning words, 
 have come before us, and faded away, like visions of 
 the night, leaving no traces ! What wealth has passed 
 through our hands in this way; and how we have 
 longed to retain it, and mourned over its loss ! Why, 
 
14 MEMORY. 
 
 if we Iiad only better memories, we should have had 
 so much more material on which our own independent 
 faculties mig-ht have worked. No ; we cannot afford 
 to despise this faculty. The poorer and the weaker 
 we feel ourselves to be as thinkers, the more we are 
 dependent on what we can remember ; and^ therefore, 
 when we turn our thoug-hts from ourselves, and look 
 at the children in our Sunday schools, we cannot help 
 coming to the conclusion that, thoug-h other mental 
 powers may seem to claim more honour from the 
 philosopher, this power of remembering is a power 
 which we must contrive to exercise and turn to g^ood 
 account. It may be that lazy teachers have been 
 accustomed, in old times, to rely wholly upon it, 
 because it was more easy to deal with it mechanically 
 than with any other faculty ; but that is no reason why 
 we should not, thoug"h without relying' wholly upon it, 
 seek to use it as wisely and effectively as we can. 
 
 Even at the risk of wearying" you by repetition, I 
 must ask you ag-ain to remember that memory is 
 altog-ether a matter of association. When the thoughts 
 of past events come back, they never come alone, or 
 leap independently into the mind. If they come at 
 all, they come in a train of suggestion. We cannot 
 by an effort of will recall any fact or idea we want. 
 If we could, that would seem to imply that we already 
 knew the thing we wanted to think about. Let us 
 look into our own minds, and ask ourselves what 
 happens when we try to recall a person's name, a date, 
 or the words of a quotation. We can't turn our minds 
 instantly to it, for we don't know where or what it is : 
 
MEMORY, 15 
 
 but this is what we do ; we select that one of our 
 present thoughts which seems most Hkelj to have some 
 relation to the one we want ; we dwell on this, in the 
 hope that it will sugg-est another ; we surrender our- 
 selves, in fact, to the operation of the laws of suggestion; 
 and as new ideas arise, we fasten our attention in 
 succession upon those which seem most likely to lead 
 us in the right track. At last, perhaps, we come 
 upon the desired fact or word. Let me illustrate this, 
 I meet with a fragment of a text, and I do not at 
 once know what the rest of it is, or in what connection 
 it occurs. Well, I dwell on the w^ords which are 
 before me; I strive to exclude for the moment all 
 foreign or irrelevant ideas. The words, as I mentally 
 utter them, perhaps at first remind me of some other 
 words a little like them, but in a line of poetry ; and 
 then the line and its context come up unbidden into 
 my thoughts ; but since this is not what I want, I 
 refuse to follow this track, and dwell still more 
 earnestly on the words I had at first, in the hope that 
 a more promising train of association will disclose 
 itself. Then, perhaps, there comes the echo of another 
 word of the text, or perhaps the recollection of the sound 
 of the preacher's voice as I once heard it uttered; 
 perhaps even a picture comes before the eye, of the 
 Bible as I read it, and I seem to see the words in a 
 particular corner of the page ; or, perchance, the faint 
 reflection of some emotion which long ago came into 
 my mind when I heard it, or of some lesson I learnt 
 from it. I fasten my mind upon any one of these 
 traces, and at length one word suggests another, until 
 
16 MEMORY. 
 
 tfie whole text is broug'lit before me. Then I remem- 
 ber the context; then I see how it stands in the 
 argument or the narrative; then all I ever knew about 
 the words and their author comes before me, and I say 
 I have remembered it. 
 
 Now, observe here that it is not strictly true to say, 
 I have recalled this text to my memory, or that I have 
 fetched the fact out of the storehouse of my mind. 
 Of course, as a popular and loose explanation this is 
 well enough. But the fact is, the thing has not come 
 back to me in obedience to any effort of my will, but 
 has been brought back by the exercise of the ordinary 
 laws of association, each thought having suggested the 
 next, while I, in fact, had no power to determine in 
 what order they should follow. All that I have done 
 is to exercise a little judgment in choosing which of 
 all the thoughts which thus passed in procession 
 before me was most nearly akin to what I wanted, to 
 fasten my attention on it, to refuse to dwell on any 
 that were trivial or unsuitable, and to let the spon- 
 taneous action of my own faculties do the rest. In 
 fact, the positive part of the process, the suggestion 
 of the desired words, has been involuntary : it is only 
 what may be called the negative part — the refusal to 
 entertain some ideas, and the disposition to welcome 
 others, and to arrest them as they came — which w^as 
 voluntary. I cannot hope that you will accept this as 
 a true account of memory merely because I say it ; 
 but I ask you to put the matter to a practical test, 
 and watch the operation of your own minds when you 
 try to recall the name of a person, the date of an event, 
 
MEMORY. 17 
 
 the words of a poem, tlie look, the circumstanceSj the 
 nature, the semMance of anything* that is j^ast. I 
 believe you will find that in point of fact you do not 
 recall these things, but only resig-n yourselves to the 
 operation of the laws of suggestion, in the hope that 
 they will recall them for you. The thing- you want 
 to recollect, if it is attainable at all, is one link of a 
 chain of association of which some other link is 
 jilready in your power. You don't know how far oif it 
 is, nor are you always sure in what particular direction 
 it lies ; but you put your hand on it, and mentally you 
 feel your way along its length rather in the dark, 
 perhaps, and having nothing to guide you but your 
 own desire to reach it, and a determination to rest 
 satisfied with no other thought which comes into your 
 mind, until you have found that of which you are in 
 search. 
 
 Now, this faculty of memory is one to which, as 
 teachers, w^e are constantly appealing. We want so 
 to teach that the ideas which we bring before the 
 mind, when they reappear hereafter, shall come back 
 with all the thoughts, explanations, and moral lessons 
 which we have associated with them. To speak 
 popularly, there are three attributes which charac- 
 terize a good memory : first, it should be capaciouSy 
 or should hold a great deal, and have a large store of 
 ideas duly associated together j secondly, it should be 
 teteniive, or capable of keeping the ideas and notions 
 v.-hich are thus connected strongly fixed together, so 
 that the tie by which they are once bound shall not 
 be easily loosened j thirdly, it should be readi/^ prompt, 
 
18 MEMORY. 
 
 and able to go back without difficulty or hesitation 
 wlienever its owner desires to reproduce past im- 
 pressions. 
 
 But all these qualities are dependent, in a great 
 degree, on the manner in which the thoughts to be 
 remembered are originally united together. And 
 the point which necessarily interests teachers most 
 is this consideration: How can I best forge or 
 fasten ideas together in a child's mind? The most 
 practical answer to this question is of course to be 
 found in our own experience. What are the most 
 lasting impressions on our own memory, and how 
 were they originally made? This question admits of 
 several answers. 
 
 I. Associations between two thoughts or ideas may 
 be rendered permanent by the frequency with wJdch 
 they are brought before the viind in contact. You 
 and I have learnt many things by heart, without ever 
 wishing or trying to learn them, but simply because 
 they have been said in our hearing very often. Thus 
 we associate common objects with their names. We 
 know the names of our neighbours and friends, and 
 the words of many familiar texts and hymns, because 
 these things have come before our minds in a certain 
 connection so frequently, that their connection has 
 become firmly established. You cannot hear one 
 sentence of the Lord's Prayer without being instantly 
 reminded of the next. It comes without any effort of 
 yours. You cannot hear the name of an intimate 
 acquaintance pronounced at any time without instantly 
 having before you the picture of his countenance 
 
MEMORY. 19 
 
 and tlie eclio of his voice. The links which unite 
 a particular word, in each of these cases, with certain 
 images and impressions, have been firmly fastened 
 without any effort of yours. The business has been 
 done mechanically by the mere force of repetition. 
 I suppose that if I spent an hour to-nig-ht saying- over 
 and over ag'ain one single sentence, and you were 
 patient enough to listen, you might probably be 
 surprised, and most likely vexed, but ^^ou would not 
 forget that sentence in a hurry; and the probability 
 is, that whenever you saw me again you would 
 think of that sentence, and be at all times able to 
 complete it when a single word of it was suggested; 
 not because you cared for it, or wished to recol- 
 lect it, but simply because of its wearisome reit- 
 eration. I need not go into other illustrations of 
 this fact; the evidence of it must be very clear to all 
 of you. 
 
 II. Associations, and relations between ideas, are 
 rendered permanent in the mind by the interest which 
 isj'elt when they are hrovght together. You hear a 
 speaker, perhajjs, who contrives to chain or fascinate 
 you in a remarkable way. There is something in the 
 tones of his voice, in the deep earnestness of his man- 
 ner, and in the weight or pungency of his words, 
 which strikes you with unusual force. For a time, 
 the whole apprehensive and receptive faculty of your 
 nature is at work : you look earnestly, you feel 
 deeply, your nature seems to be straining itself to 
 appreciate, to understand, and to receive. He dissects 
 and enforces some text of Scripture, perhaps ; or he 
 
20 MEMORY. 
 
 urges some truth upon your notice by the help of 
 some very powerful and striking illustration. What 
 is the consequence? You cannot forget what he says. 
 He only says it once ; you never hear it again ; hut 
 years afterwards the memory of the man, or the scene, 
 or the subject, brings up with it his arguments and 
 teaching. The link of connection which has been 
 formed here has been made once for all ; not slowly 
 hammered again and again, to make it firm, but 
 rivetted at one blow. You walk through a picture 
 gallery. You refer to your catalogue a score of times 
 to see the names of the artists. The majority of those 
 names will wholly have disappeared to-morrow. You 
 v/ill have identified the name with the picture just for 
 a moment, but the association will fade altogether 
 before long. But here there is one picture which 
 challenges all your admiration and interest. It is of a 
 scene from some poem you admire, or a picture of a 
 place you know. It is treated with feeling ; and there 
 is evident a delicacy of perception as to the real beauty 
 of the scene, with which you feel yourself instantly 
 in sympathy. Again you look into the catalogue, and 
 ascertain the name of the artist; but this time the 
 case is very diiferent. Once ascertained, the name 
 IS sure to be remembered. You cannot forget it, 
 simply because the association of the picture with 
 the artist's name has interested you. You do not 
 want to hear the name again. Ever after, the sound 
 of his name will be sure, without any desire of yours, 
 to recall the impression of his picture, and tlie 
 thoughts of the scene will recall his name. Need 
 
MEMORY. 2] 
 
 I attempt to illustrate this obvious truth in any other 
 way ? Call to mind the experience of every-day life. 
 You meet crowds of flices in the streets ; you hear 
 hundreds of thing's every day ; you read many thing's 
 in newspapers, and mag'azines, and books, and 
 the vast majority of these impressions fade away 
 as soon as they are made. Links of associa- 
 tion are formed ; but they are snapped like threads ; 
 and when the mind tries to return to them (if it 
 ever does), it finds the line of continuity broken, 
 and the recovery of the lost ideas hopeless. And this 
 is simply because there was no feeling of strong- 
 interest in the thing at first j no effort of attention 
 on your part to J^eep tog-ether what was thus casually 
 brought into contact. But if one face in the crowd 
 had seemed to you especially full of meaning, that 
 is the face which you would not forget, and 
 which would appear hereafter in your dreams and 
 fancies. If there was one fact in your reading which 
 struck you as being porticularly valuable, that is the 
 fact on which you will hereafter dwell, and which 
 your memory will retain. If there was one scene on 
 which your eye rested at some moment of deep 
 emotion, when your life had reached a particularly 
 critical stage, or when your heart was unusually 
 susceptible of strong impressions, that is the scene 
 the picture of which would (to use the popular 
 language on this subject) imprint itself on the memory; 
 or, to speak with more correctness, that is the scene 
 jl] the component details of which would be most 
 indelibly and firmly associated with one another, and 
 
22 MEMORY. 
 
 with the feeling' you had while you heheld it. We 
 are thus entitled, I think, to consider the second of 
 my propositions proved: ^^That the strength and 
 durahility of mental associations is in proportion to 
 the attention paid to them when they are first formed, 
 to the interest felt in them, and to the vividness and 
 intensity of the emotions with which they are at first 
 regarded." 
 
 III. But, again, there is a third condition of the 
 permanence of our mental impressions which deserves 
 consideration. I mean the desh'e felt, on the part of 
 the person himself, to retain the knowledge, and to 
 keep its several parts tog*ether. In the two cases I 
 have already descrihed, it is possible for a man to remem- 
 ber things without wishing it; constant repetition 
 will sometimes force ideas into the minds of the most 
 reluctant listeners; or great interest and curiosity 
 may he excited when we are half-ashamed to find 
 ourselves fascinated or interested at tdl. Or the eye 
 may be so familiarized with a certain picture that it 
 cannot see one half without thinking of the other. 
 Memory, therefore, is quite possible without any 
 exertion of the 7Vill, and without putting forth any 
 moral strength in the way of purpose or deliberate 
 choice. But, after all, when such strength is put 
 forth, memory is greatly assisted. For kee})ing' ideas 
 chained together in j)roper sequence and relation, 
 there is nothing like a strong wisli to have them so 
 chained. Here tlie moral nature acts upon the intel- 
 lectual, and the beautiful harmony between the two 
 becomes evident. Philosophers talk of the intellect and 
 
MEMORY. 23 
 
 the will as of two distinct thing's j but though you may 
 distinguish them in theory, you cannot separate them 
 in action or fact. And I beHeve that half of the 
 complaints people make about their bad memories 
 a?ise from moral rather than intellectual deficiencies. 
 A man tells you that he cannot remember dates, or that 
 he has no head for mathematics. Why, that same man, 
 if he had deliberately sat down, and having persuaded 
 himself of the importance of recollecting certain dates, 
 or of the value of a mathematical truth, said to him- 
 self, " Now I must acquire this — I will not let it g'o;" 
 and then seriously bent all the strength and resolution 
 there was in him to the accomplishment of the task, 
 would soon find that the fault did not lie in the 
 faculties which God had given him, but in the way in 
 which those faculties had been used. He finds that 
 his memory is good enough, if only his will is strong 
 enough. And I believe that it is in the power of 
 every one of us to have a much better memory than 
 he possesses, if he will only look at the various ideas 
 which he wants to connect, with sufficient steadfast- 
 ness, and hold them in his grasp with a determination 
 that they shall not leave him, until they are so welded 
 together that they shall never be separated in the 
 mind. Try this when you next sit down to read a 
 book. Determine within yourselves, '^ These facts 
 or these arguments are worth remembering; so I 
 must and will remember them." Read the book 
 with that feeling strong upon you, and see what a 
 difference it will make. You have forgotten much 
 that you have read before j but if you look back, in 
 
24 MEMORY. 
 
 nine cases out of ten the reason has been that 3^ou 
 did not care to remember it; you read it with lax 
 attention, or a feeble will, and without any strong 
 wish to retain it. We say in such cases that nature 
 is in fault, and excuse ourselves by throwing the 
 blame upon our constitution, or our mental endow 
 ments, or our bad memory. How many are there 
 of us, I should like to know, who ever gave our 
 natural gifts fair play in this respect, or who know 
 how much we are capable of? I do not know of a 
 more mournful reflection than the thought of the vast 
 amount of unused capacity in the world. How many 
 powers lie dormant, and are never used ! What a 
 wonderful and unsuspected faculty has been bestowed 
 on us by the Divine Father ! Surely, He fashioned 
 the mind of man so that it should be 
 
 "A mansion for all lovely thoughts; 
 His memory bo as a dwelling-place 
 For all sweet sounds and harmonies;" 
 
 and yet many of us live and die, not only without 
 using these faculties, but without even knowing that 
 we possess them. We have powers within us which 
 we never put forth ; we have knowledge and happiness 
 within our reach which we never take the trouble to 
 gTasp ; we have a wonderful mental apparatus within 
 us which we never set in motion j and the old parable 
 of the talent wrapped up in a napkin, and hidden in 
 the earth, is illustrated day by day in the lives of all of 
 us ; so that we carry down to the grave with us cunning 
 instruments all rusted and unused j chambers meant 
 for the reception of noble guests, all unfurnished and 
 
MEMORY. 1^3 
 
 desolate ; g'ifts and graces without number which we 
 '•»ave never cared to look at, or to count. Let us do 
 4>urselves the justice, then, to believe, that our native 
 powers are indeed capable of greater things than 
 those which we are achieving every day; that we 
 could remember many things if we only took pains 
 to do so ; and that a strong eil^brt of will would 
 marvellously improve the capacity and retentiveness 
 of our memory, did we only accustom ourselves to 
 make it. 
 
 IV. There is yet one other circumstance which 
 helps to determine the firmness with which our 
 thoughts become connected together ; and that is, the 
 degree in which we unda stand the nature of the tie 
 which unites them. Now of course there are many 
 cases in which this is impossible. The association 
 between a piece of wood and the word "desk" is a 
 purely arbitrary one. Any other word would have 
 done as well. So the association between the depar- 
 ture of the children of Israel and the figures 1491 
 B.C., is of the same kind. There is no reason why 
 it should not have occurred in another year. Here 
 the notions which are to be united in the mind have 
 no necessary or logical unity ; so if they are to be 
 connected in my mind at all, it must be by some 
 purely mechanical process. The understanding has 
 nothing to do with the memory in these associations. 
 But in the case of the words of a text, or a rule in 
 grammar, or any matter in which the facts are related 
 to one another in meaning, it is important that we 
 should understand that meaning. Here, our judg- 
 
26 MEMORY. 
 
 ment, and reflection, and reasoning* powers come in to 
 help memory, and contribute to forge the link which 
 unites our ideas tog-ether. All other things being 
 equal, we are most likely to remember that which we 
 best understand. I will not stay to illustrate this 
 feet: a little analysis of your own mental experience 
 will prove it to be the case. 
 
 So far, we have been talking about what passes in 
 our own minds. What has all this to do with our 
 work as teachers, and with the little ones whom we 
 meet in the Sunday school ? I believe it has much to 
 do with it, and that, after all, the best practical rules 
 which are to be had in teaching, are those which arise 
 out of the investigation of our own mental history 
 and experience. Now, if you have followed me so 
 far, you will observe that there are four several con- 
 ditions under which the union or concatenation of 
 ideas takes place, and is likely to be rendered perma- 
 nent: frequency of repetition j the attention and interest 
 with which a truth is regarded 5 the desire to acquire 
 it ; and the degree in which the understanding has 
 been exercised upon it. 
 
 Now, what is the obvious practical inference from 
 all this ? You all want to make children remember 
 what you teach. Here, then, are four possible methods 
 of doing it. Take your choice. You 7na7/ force a 
 child to remember a thing by dint of mere mechanical 
 repetition. You make him and yourself thoroughly 
 weary of it, by telling a truth, or urging a duty, 
 Sunday after Sunday, in the same unvarying mo- 
 notonous words. It is a troublesome plan, I grant. 
 
MEMORY. 27 
 
 The thing' will have to be said many, many times, 
 before it is appropriated by your scholar. Constant 
 repetition will perhaps wear the meaning- out of the 
 words; so that, when at last they are learnt, all the 
 freshness and interest they ever had has disappeared, 
 and you and your pupils seem to know less about it 
 than you did at first. Still you will do it. A clergy- 
 man, the rector of a Hampshire parish, told me, the 
 other day, of an over-gTown lad, who came up to him 
 to be examined for confirmation, and who, when 
 asked in plain terms how many sacraments there were, 
 was quite unable to tell ; but when the words of the 
 question in the catechism, " How many sacraments 
 hath Christ ordained in His church V were repeated, 
 instantly replied in the language of the book, ^^ Two 
 only, as generally necessary to salvation j that is to 
 sa}^. Baptism, and the Supper of the Lord." He 
 could repeat these words rapidly enough : when, 
 however, the original question was put again, he was 
 as unable as before to tell how many sacraments there 
 were. He could understand no question, and could 
 give no answer, except in the precise stereotyped 
 form in which they had always been repeated. But 
 neither question nor answer had any meaning for 
 him. This hopeful youth had a memory, but what 
 it retained was held together merely by the first of 
 the ties I have described. His teacher had been 
 content to teach mechanically, and the pupil had been 
 degTaded into a machine. Now, you all, I dare say, 
 feel that it would be dishonourable to you to be 
 teachers on these terms. What, then, is the alternative ? 
 
L'O MluMORY, 
 
 Tt you can awaken a little interest in the subject, or 
 clialleng-e the attention, or excite any intellectual 
 sympatli}^, you may g-et the lesson learnt by fewer 
 repetitions. If you can get twice as much interest and 
 attention, the repetitions may become fewer still. If 
 you can g-et three times as much interest, you need 
 still less of reiteration. It is a fair proportion sum. 
 This fastening of ideas and words together may be a 
 mechanical process, or it may be an intellig-ent pro- 
 cess j or it may be partly one and partly the other ; 
 but in exactly the proportion in which you employ 
 the one kind of instrument, you may dispense with 
 the other. Teaching always demands labour ; but it 
 is here as it is in almost all duties and professions in 
 life : you may save intellectual labour by mechanical 
 labour, and you may save mechanical labour by 
 intellectual. Which do you prefer? Perhaps you 
 feel teaching" to be drudgery. Quite true. But in 
 just the proportion in which you become more 
 interested in it, the drudgery will diminish. Every 
 new illustration you can use, every glance of sympathy 
 you can excite, every charm with which you can 
 invest your subject, every appeal you can make to 
 the judgment, to the imagination, or to the conscience, 
 will make you less of a drudge. Teaching, like all 
 other work, becomes ennobled and beautified in 
 exact proportion to the zeal and effort, sympathy and 
 love, we put into it. Without these, working away 
 at the memory is the sorriest and dullest occupation in 
 the world : with it the same task becomes an honour- 
 able, na}^ more, a most charming and delightful 
 employment. 
 
MEMORY. 29 
 
 Are we never, then, to have anything like rote-work 
 or task- work ? Is nothing- to be learnt by heart in our 
 schools ? This is an important question, and one 
 which I think we are in a position to answer. Now, 
 many thing-s which we remember are not recollected, 
 in any particular form of words : for instance, historical 
 events, if we know them at all, we know in their 
 proper sequence and relation as events, not in any 
 particular phraseology. If I remember the facts 
 about the life of Moses, or know the course of the 
 children of Israel in their journeys, or the substance 
 of a book on natural history which I once road, or can 
 describe the g'eneral scope and aim of Bishop Butler's 
 argument in the "Analogy," my recollections need not 
 take any specific form : there are a hundred ways in 
 which I may with equal accuracy bring my stores 
 to light. In these cases ideas have been associated, 
 and not mere words. But if I repeat a piece of poetry, 
 or a text of Scripture, or an answer from a catechism, 
 and make a mistake only of a single word, I do not 
 hno7v it thoroughly. If I am asked a question in the 
 multiplication table, or about the date of an event, an 
 error of a single figure is important. Now, these 
 latter cases we may call cases of verbal memory, 
 where the object is simply to remember certain words 
 and figures in one particular order, and no other. 
 The former cases we may call, for distinction, examples 
 of rational memory, because the connection estabhshed 
 is one in which the reason is more concerned, and 
 because by it thoughts only have to be united, and not 
 words. In our Sunday schools we have to appeal to 
 
30 MEMORY. 
 
 both of these forms of memory, and it is a great point 
 to know when to employ one and wL3n the otheLr. 
 
 Now, of the two, there is no doubt that what I 
 have called rational associations — or those which are 
 kept tog-ether by some true relations of cause and effect, 
 or of principle and reason — are the highest and most 
 important. The best thing's in our own memories are 
 not those which are held there in the shape of formu- 
 laries and phrases but those with which our thoughts, 
 andliking-s, and judgments are associated. Neverthe- 
 less, there must be such a thing as learning by heart 
 in schools. How far, and when ? 
 
 I shall confine myself, in answering this question, 
 to the case of Sunday schools -, although I need not say 
 that a much wider reply would be required if other 
 schools were contemplated. For you, however, I may 
 safely say, 
 
 I. That the verbal memory requires to be exercised 
 in the learning of Scripture texts. It is not only 
 necessary that the child should understand the meaning 
 and be familiar with the general contents of the sacred 
 writings ; he ought also to have, stored up in his 
 mind, a great many entire passages and extracts. 
 But here we are dealing with something* too sacred 
 and important to be left to general im, Sessions, 
 or to the understanding alone. All students of Holy 
 Scripture know that not only are its truths of para- 
 mount value, but also that those truths are expressed 
 in the choicest and best language. Apart from its 
 higher claims, the Bible would commend itself to 
 teachers simply on the ground of the purity of its 
 
MEMORY. 31 
 
 Style, and the wonderful clearness and force with 
 which its contents are expressed. For this reason, 
 and in order to promote a due reverence for the 
 Divine Word, the passag'es which are learnt should be 
 learnt by heart, and should be repeated with literal 
 accuracy. This, then, is one of the ways in which 
 learning- by heart and repeating by rote are not only 
 legitimate but desirable. Every one of your scholars 
 should have fixed in his mind a good store of selected 
 texts, and of consecutive passages, which he can 
 repeat without the smallest mistake. Who knows 
 how precious such possessions may prove in after life? 
 Who knows in what hours of temptation, or sorrow, 
 or danger, or solicitude, the mind may travel back 
 along the chain of association, and find in the memory 
 of those sacred words a source of safety and of 
 blessing? 
 
 II. Again, hymns and verses of poetry maybe very 
 lawfully committed to the custody of what I have 
 called the verbal memory. In these it is not enough 
 to remember the sense, or the meaning, or the sub- 
 stance ; we ought to have the precise words. These 
 are always the easiest exercises of memory which we 
 can have, because the rhyme, and the metre, and the 
 cadence are in themselves pleasing to the ear, and go 
 far to diminish the efibrt required in learning them. 
 So if you will take pains to select suitable verses, it is 
 quite right and wise to insist on their being learnt by 
 heart. There are few things which come up more 
 pleasantly to the ear in after life than the memory 
 of sweet verses which we have learnt in youth. They 
 
32 MEMORY. 
 
 are seldom logical and dry : they appeal especially to 
 tlie feeling-s, though they often contain truth of the 
 most valuable kind, in a compressed and concentrated 
 form. Then, there is a kind of musical echo about 
 them, which even when we do not actually repeat 
 them, and they only linger faintly down in the depths 
 of the mind, gives us pleasure, we hardly know why. 
 Perhaps it is for this reason that the Psalms of 
 David have in all ages been felt to be so precious, and 
 have inspired pure thoughts and heavenward emotions 
 in every age. What a charm there is about them 
 when they are really well and happily rendered into 
 
 verse ! 
 
 " O God, our help in ages past, 
 Our strength for years to come, 
 Our shelter from the stormy blast, 
 And our eternal home." 
 
 Who is there who is not the richer for having once 
 learnt words like these ? What little child is not 
 touched and delighted, as well as instructed, when he 
 first learns to repeat, 
 
 " Jesus Christ, my Lord and Saviour, 
 Once became a child like me : 
 Oh that in my whole behaviour- 
 He my pattern still may be !" 
 
 Let us keep ever in view the fact that in the midst of 
 the storm and struggle of life, the little one whom we 
 have at school will some day be striving. Many a 
 time may come in his future life when he may be far 
 from books, from the voice of a teacher, and from all 
 right influences, and when (though he is not able fe; 
 
MEMORY. 33 
 
 make any effort to shape or recall his own thoughts) 
 the words of a sacred song* will come up before him 
 with a soothing and elevating power which nothing 
 else could furnish, and though all unbidden, will yet 
 bring valuable thoughts in their train. 
 
 Here, then, are two things in regard to which we 
 may safely and wisely appeal to that power of merely 
 ■verbal association which I have described j — passages 
 of Scripture, and verses of religious poetry. And the 
 reason for this is very simple. In both these cases, not 
 only is the substance of the thing remembered valuable, 
 but the exact Jor77i is also important. There being in 
 these cases a certain fitness and propriety in certain 
 words, we must make the children remember the 
 words as well as the ideas which they signify. 
 
 Now, how does this apply to the learning of 
 catechisms, or to learning whole pages of an ordinary 
 book by heart? 
 
 In catechisms certain questions are given, and 
 particular answers are appended. These answers are 
 generally learnt by heart j and a child is not said to 
 know his catechism unless he can repeat every word 
 without a mistake. Now, the only really valuable 
 end aimed at in a catechism is, that a certain subject 
 should be understood. The phraseology in which the 
 answer is couched is probably neither better nor worse 
 than the language which any person who understood 
 the subject would spontaneously use. In this case, 
 what you want is an association of thoughts, what you 
 insist on is an association of words. The effort of 
 merely verbal memory which you demand is simply 
 
 B 
 
34 MEMORY. 
 
 wasted : you are burdening the mind to no purpose. 
 The only catechetical instruction which is worth any- 
 thing is that in which teachers and children exchange 
 ideas in their own words j when the question rises 
 spontaneously, and the answer is a perfectly natural 
 one, and thus aifords the true measure of the learner's 
 knowledge. But that is not catechising when teacher 
 and child sit down with a book between them, and 
 repeat alternately the words which it puts into their 
 mouths ; when both are puppets alike, the wires being" 
 pulled and the machinery managed by the unknown 
 author of the book. 
 
 Look back a little. Does any one of us remember 
 anything out of his catechisms? Have we not the 
 most dreary recollections of that troublesome and 
 tedious exercise, when teacher and child were talking 
 and moving, so to speak, in fetters, and neither mind 
 was actually in communication with the other ? Why 
 is this ? I believe it is because here the merely 
 verbal memory was required to receive what it had 
 no business to take. There being nothing of any 
 special value in the mere phrases of the book, the mind 
 was yet striving rigidly and inflexibly to retain them. 
 
 Moreover, the answer to a question in a catechism 
 is nearly always a part of a sentence only ^ the other 
 part being contained in the question itself. IVow 
 children are never required to learn the questions by 
 heart j and yet, unless they do this, they may remember 
 the answer ever so accurately, and are little or none 
 the wiser for it. I take, for instance, an extract 
 from the Church Catechism. 
 
MEMORY. 35 
 
 " Q. Dost tKou not think thsit thou art bound to 
 believe, and to do as they have promised for thee ? 
 
 "J.. Yes, verily; and by God's help so I will. 
 And I heartily thank our heavenly Father that He 
 hath called me to this state of salvation, throug-h Jesus 
 Christ our Saviour. And I pray unto God to give 
 me His grace, that I may continue in the sa?ne unto 
 my life's end." 
 
 Observe here that the answer, as it stands, has no 
 meaning'. "So I will" forms a very small part of 
 the resolution which the learner is intended to make, 
 and to remember. The gist of the whole truth 
 intended to be taught lies m the question, and in its 
 relation to the previous answer. Without these the 
 answer conveys no instruction, and enforces no duty. 
 Notice especially the words which I have put in 
 italics, ana you will see that they relate to notions 
 which lie outside of the sentence altogether. What 
 possible purpose can be served by the verhatim 
 recollection of such a passage as this ? It is a mere 
 fragment, which even if a child carries about with 
 him in his memory to his dying day, will remain 
 utterly without significance to him. Yet there are 
 good people who attach importance to the learning of 
 these words by heart, and who go on Sunday after 
 Sunday conscientiously labouring to teach them. I 
 wish they would inquire a little into the actual effect 
 produced on a child's mind by such an exercise. The 
 learning of the Creed or the Commandments by heart 
 is a different thing. There the sentences are complete 
 in themselves, and are concise jormulce of faith and 
 
36 MEMORY. 
 
 duty; which, if remembered, will serve a definite 
 purpose. The objection which I urge does uot, of 
 course, extend to them. 
 
 In short, catechising ought to be a real discipline for 
 the intelligence. It cannot be so unless the words of 
 question and answer are spontaneous and natural. Of 
 course, if a teacher finds a printed catechism useful, 
 as a text or basis for his own questions, he is quite 
 justified in employing it. But it should never be a 
 substitute for such questions. 
 
 The rule for our guidance as to mere rote and 
 memory work appears then to be this : When the words 
 in which a truth is conveyed are clearly the best 
 words, and no others will do so well, as in the case of 
 texts of Scripture ; — when there is but one possible 
 way of saying a thing rightly, and every other way 
 is wrong', as in the case of a date or the multiplication 
 table ', — when there is any special beauty and fitness in 
 the words, as in the case of creeds, collects, or 
 other formularies of devotion or of faith , poetry and 
 choice passages fi'om good authors ; — or when extreme 
 and minute accuracy of statement is for any reason 
 particularly necessary, as in many of the rules, 
 axioms, and fundamental definitions of science : — then 
 an appeal to the mechanical faculty of retaining 
 verbal associations is lawful and right: but in all 
 other cases, where you want rather to educate the 
 intelligence and develop reflection, do not make such 
 an appeal. Let thoughts, and facts, and events, and 
 principles, and reasons, and explanations, be linked 
 together by their natural affinities; let them be 
 
MEMORY. 37 
 
 fastened by setting the judgment to exert itself upon 
 them; and do not interpose the mechanical and 
 artificial difficulty of retaining* certain words between 
 the learner and the thing which he has to learn. 
 
 For it must not be forgotten that whenever we 
 desire children to commit words to memory, there is 
 great danger of their overlooking the sense — taking 
 the words, in fact, as a substitute for the sense, and 
 memory as a substitute for thinking — and of their 
 resting satisfied with the effort of verbal recollection 
 which they have made. Whenever, therefore, a task 
 of this kind is given, the words ought to have some 
 special value, or to contain, in the most expressive 
 and useful form, some important truth. Otherwise 
 children are injured, and their intelligence deadened 
 and weakened, by asking them to remember words at all. 
 But then, when we have once made up our minds 
 that a certain formula of words is in itself valuable, 
 and that the truth we want to convey cannot be well 
 conveyed or held in the mind advantageously in any 
 other words, let us insist on perfect accuracy in the 
 repetition of the lesson. I am afi^aid we often forget 
 this. We let a child stammer and blunder through a 
 lesson ; we help him through kindly, by occasionally 
 suggesting a word, and feel very much relieved if he 
 just gets to the end of his task passably, so as to save 
 us the trouble of obliging him to learn it again. But 
 let us ask ourselves, What is the use of such an 
 exercise ? The only possible condition on which the 
 learning of a thing by heart is justifiable at all is, 
 that it be learnt thoroughly j so perfectly, indeed, that 
 
38 MEMORY. 
 
 the connection of the words will be indelibly associated 
 in the learner's mind for life, and that he shall be sure 
 to remember them again. Now, it is quite certain 
 that if a child says a lesson imperfectly to-day, and is 
 yet allowed to pass it, he will not be able to say it 
 half so well to-morrow, and will (unless he is forced 
 to learn it ag-ain) have forg-otten it entirely in a week. 
 So all the trouble taken in the matter is absolutely 
 lost. If you were dealing with the understanding or 
 the judgment it would be different. It is better to 
 understand half a truth than to be entirely ignorant of 
 it; because that half will perhaps so expand by the 
 operation of our own faculties, that some day we may 
 understand the whole. But to know a thing half by 
 heart is not a whit better than to know none of it ; 
 because when once a lesson is passed, and left in that 
 state, it comes to nothing, it can come to nothing ; the 
 mind has no innate power of going on with it, or of 
 returning to it, or even of keeping up the association 
 which has thus been imperfectly formed. The links 
 formed between the words drop asunder, and the 
 whole of the labour is wasted. 
 
 It is far better to learn one verse in such a way as 
 to remember it for life, than to learn a chapter which 
 will be forgotten in a week. A thing is not known 
 by heart if we have to pause, and reflect, and wonder 
 what the next word is, even though we find the 
 right word after all. 
 
 The manifest inferences from all this are : (1) that 
 we should economize this power of learning by heart, 
 and should not demand too much from it; (2) that we 
 
MEMORY. 39 
 
 should only use this kind of effort in the case of such 
 words, phrases, and sentences, as have in themselves 
 some special fitness and importance^ (3) that all memory 
 lessons should be very short ; and (4) that they should 
 be said with perfect accuracy. 
 
 A question of some interest is, ^^ How should the 
 effort of memory be related to the effort of thinking V 
 Of course we want both to be made together. But 
 suppose, for instance, I mean next Sunday to give a 
 lesson on the duty of children to their parents : shall 
 I give out the fifth commandment, a text or two, and 
 a suitable hymn, to be learnt beforehand, or shall I 
 wait till Sunday comes, give my lesson, illustrate, 
 enforce, and explain it in the best way I can, and 
 then give the text and hymn to be learnt in the week 
 after, and said by heart, before I begin my next 
 lesson on the following Sunday ? In other words, 
 should the effort of verbal memory be preliminary or 
 supplementary to the explanation and understanding 
 of the subject ? Now, good teachers differ on this 
 point, I know ; and some have probably very good 
 reasons for preferring the former plan. But all my 
 experience leads me to prefer the latter. Moreover, it 
 seems to me more philosophical, and more in harmony 
 with the real requirements of our minds. When the 
 understanding is enlightened, and the feelings inter- 
 ested in a matter, then there is a motive and a 
 stimulus for the use of the memory. We are ready 
 to remember words which relate to a subject which 
 we understand. Besides, it is ten times easier to 
 learn words by heart when they represent thoughts 
 
40 MEMORY. 
 
 which have been explained to us, and which we 
 know something about. It is very weary work to 
 learn words which have no meaning to us. So my 
 j^lan would be, to give thoughts first, and technical 
 or book words afterwards, rather than those words 
 first, and thoughts afterwards. I believe this is a 
 sound principle in all lessons. Even when I am 
 teaching spelhng, I would rather spell the words 
 as the}^ occur in a lesson, and words which are 
 associated in the child's mind with a purpose and a 
 meaning, than columns of isolated words, many of which 
 are quite new, and without interest to the child, and 
 have therefore nothing to hold by in his mind. In 
 like manner, it is when we have given a good lesson, 
 and brought all our resources to bear on its elucida- 
 tion, that we can most effectually clench and fasten 
 the impression which we have made by a well- 
 chosen text of Scripture. It is when a child has 
 been led to recognise the ftilness of meaning which a 
 particular portion of the Divine Word contains, and 
 to feel an interest in its contents, that he is most 
 disposed to learn it by heart, and that his intellectual 
 powers are in the fittest state for the exercise. 
 
 You will have gathered from all I have said, that 
 while I think the recollection of words a good thing, I 
 think the recollection of the things represented by 
 those words a much better. The former cultivates 
 accuracy, patience, and many valuable qualities of 
 mind ; so we cannot afford to neglect it. Moreover, it 
 stores the mind with valuable thoughts in choice 
 language, and is thus very helpful through life. But 
 
MEMORY. 41 
 
 the latter is of more importance to the intelligence, 
 and to the general mental growth of the learner. 
 People of very inferior mental gifts often have a mar- 
 vellous memor}^ for little, insignificant details, and can 
 repeat to you with great accuracy the very words of 
 a conversation, or the precise incidents of a story, 
 which they have once heard. ^'Some people, too, 
 have heen" — I say it on the authority of an eminent 
 modern philosopher — '^ intellectually damaged by hav- 
 ing a good memory for mere words. An unskilful 
 teacher," he says, '^is content to put before children 
 all they ought to lenrn, and to take care that they 
 remember it ; and so, thot^^^h the memory is retentive, 
 the mind is left in a passive state. And men wonder 
 that he who was so quick in learning and remembering 
 should not be an able man ; which is as reasonable as 
 to wonder that a cistern, if filled, should not be a 
 perennial fountain. * * * * Many are 
 saved by the deficiency of their memory from being 
 spoiled by their education j for those who have no 
 extraordinary memory are driven to supply its place 
 by thinking. If they do not remember a mathematical 
 demonstration, they are driven to devise one. If they 
 do not remember what Aristotle or Bacon said, they 
 are driven to consider what they are likely to have 
 said, or ought to have said." 
 
 Perhaps the most solemn thought of all in connec- 
 tion with this subject is, that every day is adding to 
 our memories, and, even when we notice it least, 
 increasing the number of the manifold associations 
 which will determine all our fixture thoughts and 
 
42 MEMORY. 
 
 much of our future happiness. There is something^ 
 or other in the history of to-day, and of every day, 
 which will cling' to us, which will colour or give shape 
 to our thoughts years hence, if we live, and which 
 will contribute either to depress or to gladden, to 
 improve or deteriorate us in days to come. Do we 
 think of this enough? Is it in your minds when 
 children are round you at the Sunday school, that one 
 way or another they will have associations with your 
 class for life ? You are storing up, however uncon- 
 ciously to yourselves, impressions, reflections, and 
 memories, which will inevitably come up, again and 
 again, in the lives of the children, possibly at their most 
 critical stages, and with unexpected results. Whether 
 they think of religion as a pure and lovely thing 
 hereafter, or whether they associate it with hardness^ 
 with dullness, and with lifelessness, depends on you. 
 Whether the investigation of Scripture truth appears 
 to them, when men and women, as a worthy and 
 beautiful pursuit, full of interest and meaning, and 
 pregnant with instruction of a practical kind, or 
 whether it seems to them a repulsive and barren 
 occupation, to be entered upon reluctantly, con- 
 ducted mechanically, and escaped from speedily, 
 all depends on the associations formed between 
 religion and your teaching in the Sunday school. 
 The laws of mind will assert their rights ; mental 
 associations will be formed, whether you will or not ; 
 and some of them will be enduring*, however little 
 pains you take. See, then, that the Bible lessons 
 bring to the child associations of life and of happi- 
 
MEMORY. 43 
 
 ness; that they hereafter recall pleasant recollec- 
 tions of awakened intelligence, g-ratified curiosity, of 
 the striving's of conscience, of the opening- of the 
 heart, of your accents of love and gentleness, of your 
 winning- ways, your anxious and kindly insight into 
 his wants, you earnest desire to make truths precious 
 to him which you had felt to he precious to yourselves. 
 Let Bible teaching bring back to the child, in the 
 storms of fiiture life, a general impression of calmness 
 and thoughtfulness, of wisdom and of rational delight; 
 and who knows how much good may be done even by 
 the humblest of you ? 
 
 And for ourselves, too, the same thought is worth 
 retaining. What sort of tale will to-day, and yesterday, 
 and to-morrow have to tell to the memory of each of 
 us in years that are to come ? It will have something 
 to say, be sure. Associations such as I have described 
 have been forming, and strengthening, and deepening ; 
 hereafter they will prove either riches or poverty 
 to us. We shall be wiser, higher, purer, in virtue of 
 these associations ; or else, lower and more confirmed 
 in ignorance. Which shall it be ? I have heard of a 
 sort of ink which makes no visible mark at first, but 
 which comes out all black and indelible in after years. 
 It is in this sort of writing all our doings and our 
 thoughts are recorded from day to day by the pencil 
 of the memory. 
 
 " Oh that our lives, which flee so fast, 
 In purity were such, 
 That not an image of the past 
 Should fear that pencil's touch 1 " 
 
TRACTS FOR TEACHERS, 
 
 one of Eer 
 
 No. 1. The Snuday School Union ; Its Objects, Operations, and 
 Claims ; 
 
 2. Local Unions; their advantages, with Suggestions for their 
 
 Formation and Management , 
 
 3. The Teacher's Authority. By Henry Althans 
 
 4. Triiinirig Classes for Teachers. By W. Groser } 
 
 5. The Introductory Clas?. By W. H. Groser. B.Sc, F.G.S.. 
 
 6. The Mistakes of Sunday School Teachers. By Dr. Spence.. 
 
 7. Pictorial Teaching. By F. J. Hartley. ■ ... 
 
 8. Sunday School Teaching. Bv Miss Whately 
 
 9. Memory. By J. G. Fitch, M. A 
 
 10. Attractive Sunday Schools. By W. Culver well 
 
 11. Sunday School Statistics, and the Lessons they Teach. By 
 
 Fountain J. Hartley .. 
 
 12. American Sunday Schools. By Colonel Griffin, of Chicago. 
 
 13. The Letter Box, and How to Use it 
 
 The Art of Questi-.ning. By J. G. Fitch, M.A 
 
 Majesty's Inspectors of Schools 
 
 The Art of Securing Attention in the Sunday School. By 
 
 J. G. Fitch, M.A 
 
 Classificati( n in Sunday Schools. By W. H. Watson. 
 The Duty of the Church towards the Sunday School. 
 Directions for Teaching with the Box of Moveable Letters 
 
 Hints on Self -educal ion. By D. Bcnham , 
 
 Senior Classes in Sunday Schools ; their Importance, and the Mode 
 
 of Conducting them. By W. H. Watson 
 
 Separate Services for the Younger Childnn in Sunday Schools. 
 
 By Rev. Samuel Martin 
 
 The Silent Temple. A New Year's Address to Teachers. By 
 
 W. H. Gr'ser, B.Sc, F.G.S 
 
 The Teacher ; his Books, and How to Read them 
 
 B.Sc.,F.G.S 
 
 The Teacher's Keys. A New Year's Address. 
 
 F.S.A 
 
 The "Visitation of Scholars 
 
 What is the Sunday School Union ? 
 
 each perlOO 
 5. d. s. d. 
 
 By W. H. Groser, 
 By Charles Reed, 
 
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 TRACTS FOR PARENTS k SCHOLARS. 
 
 K\n6. Words to a Sunday Scholar on Leaving School. By John] 
 
 Morrison, D.D.,LL.D 1 
 
 Link-Making in the Home Workshop. A New Year's Address to 
 
 Parents. By Rev. R Robmson 1 5 
 
 A Pleasant Place : an Invitation to the Sunday School, for Elder 
 
 Children 1 4 
 
 The Sunday School brought to Jfind. An Address to Former 
 
 Scholars. By John Morrison, D D , LL.D 1 
 
 The Two Streams. A Fable for Sunday Scholars. By Cousin 
 
 William 1 
 
 What can I do ? A New Year's Address to Sunday Scholars. By 
 
 OldMerry 1 
 
 Influence; or, Not Living to Cfcrselves. An Address to Parents. I 
 
 By theRev. Tliomas Aveling, ICingsland |0 1 
 
 LONDON: SUNDAY SCKOOL UNION, 56, OLD BAILEY, E.G. 
 
DATE DUE 
 
u