of the language, have been published under the general title of " English Grammar.”

Before we yield implicit confidence to any of these directions, however, it is but just that we should look somewhat about us. There are not a few important considerations relating to the study of the English language presented to the thinking mind. Some of them will go far towards determining what a systematic development of the science should be, and will consequently afford material aid in deciding as to the relative merits of the different systems of English grammar in vogue.

It has been justly remarked by an able writer that "science is classified knowledge." But if this be so, the grand characteristic of science is classification. On such ground, however, science is simply constructive, not creative. It arranges developed truth, but does not originate it. It may establish order in the elemental chaos, but it cannot evoke those chaotic elements from nothing. Science, then, has no power over the primary elements of its own character. It must be what its truths make it. They are the threads which, woven into a system, give character to the great web. If they be abstract and difficult, the science must be similar; if practical or pleasing, the science will partake of the same character.

We may urge, however, further, that whatever difference there may be between the abstract truths and the completed science, the latter will take the precedence. It will not only in excellence or attractiveness be equal to its specific truths, but it will possess these traits in a higher degree. And this evidently, since in the very act of classification there is added to these truths the complement of their distinct attributes, namely, the excellence of harmonious relation. Certainly, if there be any excellence in the disconnected parts of a machine, that excellence is not only not impaired by their combination into a harmonious whole, but, on the contrary, it is very certain that in the light of interdependent relations, some parts in themselves, apparently uncouth and useless, will be seen to possess a utility and beauty before quite unsuspected.

Now, if in any case the mind does not estimate the elements of the science, and the science complete in accordance with these principles, there must be somewhere a defect. If, for example, the former, independent of all systematic philosophy, are found to be practically useful and pleasing,

while the compacted science is not only of questionable utility, but is shunned with evident distaste, the conclusion is fair that the medium through which the latter is received is defective. Nor can this be justly disputed, since, if the classification of truth in a complete body of science adds to its abstract utility and beauty a new excellence, then, wherever there is no positive repulsiveness in the elements of the system, there should not only be no peculiar repugnance to the system, but there should rather be a preference for it.

If, therefore, there should be no such preference for the classified truth, but rather the opposite, instead of attributing the evil to the nature of the science, or the perverted notions of the many who are to pursue it, it is more reasonable to suppose that, in the one mind on which the proper exposition of the science has devolved, there has been a failure to arrive at a correct and natural development of its elements. This is to assume that the science is right, and the general estimate of the system set forth is just, but that the system itself is wrong, and hence naturally results in little less than sheer failure. Still more safely may we conclude thus in all cases where, in the pursuit of the science, the inquiring mind is not reduced to the necessity of groping its way among new and unfamiliar elements, but has only to deal with well-known truths, truths practically employed in its commonest efforts.

Now if the systematic truth of the English language just as truly constitutes a science as "classified knowledge" elsewhere, then these principles are applicable to the language as a science. If these principles be correct, then the science of the language takes its stamp from the use of the language as an art, and any correct system of English grammar must in its character be dependent on its facts and principles. If they be correct, then the pursuit of the science need not fall behind the improvement of its elements in utility and interest; at least not so much so as to become positively odious. If they be correct,.then must the general failure of the study of the language as usually pursued, to interest and benefit the mass of learners, be owing mainly to a defective exposition of the science itself. And if all this be so, then there is evident need of new aids to the study of the language, embodying a method which, in its fortunate apprehension of the true principles of classification, its acute perception of the true philosophy, and its

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ingenious mode of communicating and illustrating the truths of the science, shall open to the mind the study of the English language as it should be.

Whether the prevalent aids have ever done this is certainly a question of doubt. If it be assumed that they have, if it be urged that they have done justice to the science, and have fully met the wants of education, then let the following questions be satisfactorily answered. First, why has the idea been so long and so generally entertained that children are incapable of entering profitably upon the study of the language before arriving at a certain maturity of intellect, the logic of which is something like this. The child, though unacquainted with any part of the world but his own neighborhood, or not sufficiently conversant with numbers to be even able to count freely, may very wisely, according to custom, take up the study of geography or arithmetic. He is expected to apprehend the relative position of states and provinces, and the relations of different factors and denominations. He is considered capable of mastering geographical characteristics and arithmetical processes. But the properties and relations of those words, phrases, and sentences, which he learned before every thing else, and which he uses with a facility that not even the law against "whispering,"

"Though thunder'd forth with awful nod,”

can impede or impair a facility that, as you behold the little urchin for the first time, after many a failure conquered, and meekly dumb under the infliction of the dunce-block, is the very farthest from inspiring you with the prayer,

"O that those lips had language!"

The philosophy of this very language in which he is so well versed, and which, more than the philosophy of any other science, may be interwoven with his practice-this he is not to meddle with until he is perhaps twelve or fourteen years His mind is not yet mature enough!

of age.

And a singular consistency this is! As though it could be more of a mystery to the child that, in his diagram, the predicate is placed to the right of the subject, than that on his map he must look for Madagascar to the east of Mozam bique; as though it were more difficult for him to understand that a noun is a word used as the name of a person, place, or thing, than to understand that Tobolsk or Beg

harmi, or any other barbarous entanglements of uncouth sounds, are words used as names of cities or provinces; as though that were a much more profound philosophy which teaches the child that in the sentence, John saws wood, wood is the object, because it represents the object on which the action asserted terminates, than that which gives him to understand that in multiplying 9 by 8, 72 is the product, because it is the number which is produced by the multiplication of the factors by each other; as though, allowing the child an equal amount of real practice in each, it must be more difficult to correct his false syntax in saying I see him for I saw him, than to correct his habit of false multiplication, in saying 10 times 10 are 110, instead of 10 times 10 are 100.

It is useless, however, to multiply illustrations; the inconsistency of the course pursued is too apparent. And for ourselves, we cannot see the slightest good reason why, if the science of the English language be properly taught, it may not as well be among the earlier as well as the later studies of the child. The difficulty lies not in the nature of the science, nor in the immaturity of the child's intellect, but in our manner of presenting the truth.

But in the second place, if the received modes are correct and natural, why has there always been on the part of learners so general a dislike to the study of the language as a science? Certainly the learner is very seldom disgusted with its use as an art. Why, then, should he shrink from the consideration of its philosophy? Is it not strange that that which is so readily employed as an art, should be repulsive when reduced to the harmonious order of science? The fruit, as it grows carelessly here and there, is eagerly plucked and eaten; but when gathered and served up in order, it is at once repelled. If it has been properly prepared, this is quite inexplicable; but if, from ignorance or neglect, it has been passed through some unfortunate alum pickle of a preparation, no wonder it is not relished.

Precisely thus is it with the science of the English language. If you have not presented it to the child in a proper manner, you must not expect him to be pleased with it. The child follows the order of nature-he adheres to the philosophy of common sense-he rebels against obscurity and absurdity. Man usually prefers the order of art-he may be beguiled from the pure rationality of common sense by the seductive beauties of speculation-he will, for the

sake of precedent or prejudice, submit to positive inconsistencies. Now if in the exposition of the science before us, you have been guided by the principles of the latter philosopher, you must not expect the former philosopher to be satisfied. He belongs to a different school,- -one elder and wiser, and he will of course never agree with you, until you have perverted him.

It is hence a matter of serious inquiry whether the repulsiveness of grammar as a popular study, is not owing to a radical error in our method of presenting the science.

In the third place, if there be no such error, we inquire why, after the study of grammar has been completed after the ordinary method, the science is to all intents and purposes laid aside; the learner seldom or never in his ideas associating the principles which he has been acquiring with his daily practice? How soon are the former utterly forgotten! What man of letters thinks of consulting his Murray or his Brown, except it be in relation to some dispute about mere authorities? The truth, as it is forced upon our minds, is, that the study of the language, as it is usually pursued, is of very little practical use. The know

ledge acquired is a saddle without girths, sitting very loosely on the back of cradle idiom, and of course subject to a very essential misadjustment whenever that chances to be a little wayward.

The practical grammar of the language is rarely learned from the book. It may be obtained from that truly, but it is mainly through a severity of discipline, that almost realizes the fancy of a physical incorporation of the truth with the brain itself. We more usually, if not universally, acquire our real grammar from the conversation which we hear and the works which we read. And all this is quite to the exclusion of any material benefit derived from direct study.

Still we are loth to regard this, as from the nature of things necessary, and are rather inclined to account for it on the ground of a thorough uncongeniality between the practice of the art and the system of the science in ou language. Certainly if the science as set forth in our sys tems of grammar does run parallel with the natural practice of the art, then our common habit of dispensing with the former is quite unreasonable, and we must conclude that this evil is the result of error in the mode in which the science is presented.

In the fourth place, we are impelled to the same conclu