pulled asunder and joined again at pleasure, not like a candle, that may be extinguished to-day and relighted to-morrow. I admit that by moral transgressions children injure their morality, but they do not destroy it beyond recovery. If that were the case, we should be unable to find one single person of good character, if we had 1,000 of Diogenes's lanterns. But by whipping we assert that there is left within the child absolutely nothing that deserves to be respected.

The physical effects of painful blows consist in an irritation of the entire nervous system, which is under all circumstances detrimental to good health. Decidedly the most dangerous is boxing about the head or ears. Nose-bleeding and other symptoms usually follow close upon the abuse of the head.

We are inclined to believe that childhood is the age of vigor, and that children can endure more than we can.

This is a mistake, originating from the fact that children generally do not watch their physical condition as closely as we do ours, and as long as no acute disease befalls them, do not complain. And when they do, they complain not to us, but to their parents; we therefore have no means of knowing much about the physical constitution of our pupils.

Historians tell us that in olden times the Spartans whipped their boys to harden them against pain, and to make them bear bodily torture with indifference-nay, even with cheerfulness. But we modern pedagogues should hardly be delighted should the punished urchin exhibit a smile on his face after he had tasted the rod. The whole performance with us is intended to make a deep impression, and woe to the boy whose countenance would betray any other feeling but that of the profoundest remorse. Children know precisely what effect we expect of blows, and after the first strike, pretend either pain or repentance, but only in order to avert further punishment.

Thus we teach hypocrisy.

What do you suppose the Spartan educator would say, could he see descend from the rostrum of his modern colleague, the "future statesman or defender of his country," head downward bent, wiping his eyes with his sleeve?

What should we answer, if he ask, in what consists the celebrated progress of education, after a lapse of 3,000 years? We, he would say, applauded the heroism of our boys, when they bore up under the strikes of the lash, whereas you demand of your pupils to fear it. We taught them to ignore and resist pain, you make it an incentive.

We have to admit that we also delight to see our boys display heroism, but only when they suffer from the consequences of accidents. Should these consequences arise from corporal punishment then they are to fear them. I must leave it to the advocate of the rod to discover the consistency of this theory, for I confess my utter inability to do so. Toledo, Ohio.

MARTIN FRIEDBERG.

BOTANY.

Many teachers are frightened from the study of Botany by its formidable array of long hard words. I believe that botanical terms can be attacked and conquered if they are properly presented by the teacher. Any person possessing a Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, who will carefully look up the words in an analytical arrangement like the following, and who will verify every statement by his own observation, will find his labor pleasant and profitable. He will not be long in learning that every term has a significance.

22. Class.

31. Phaenogamia.

41. Exogens.

51. Angiosperms.
1. Polypetalae.

2. Gamopetalae.
3. Apetalae.

52. Gymniosperms-Conoids.

42. Direction of Growth.

1. Repent (Partridge Berry).
2. Procumbent (Purslane).

3. Decumbent (Poor-Man's Weather
Glass).

What we want in Normal Schools, and, for that matter, everywhere else, but in Normal Schools in particular, is exact work, not guesswork, not half-done work, not pedantry, but thorough, practical, consistent work, whether it be academic or professional in character. This kind of work implies exact knowledge as a basis, systematic study as a condition, and a definite object, as a final result; and all of this demands exact science, about which we wish to say a word, before presenting an outline of "Man considered Psychically" as proposed in our last.

In our present advanced state of "backwardness," the sciences, so-called, present various degrees of exactness. The mathematics, for instance, seem to possess greater exactness than those relating to the languages; and those relating to physics, greater than those relating to metaphysics. But does this not arise in part, at least, from the imperfect state of development in which we find these latter sciences? Those most easily understood, and hence, presenting more seeming exactness, generally lie near the surface of things, dealing largely with the tangible, and the inevitable. But we venture the assertion that all sciences are equally exact per se. Every science, if it is a science, is a system of truth; and they are all but so many branches of one great system of truth; and how can it be said that one truth, or one system of truth, excels another in exactness?

But if it be claimed that there may be greater exactness in the order of arrangement of these truths of science, in one than in another, we take issue at once; for it can easily be shown that this is the result of our imperfect knowledge of the true relationships existing among these truths. We should not, therefore charge upon science, what properly belongs to our ignorance. We shall no doubt find all right, when we learn all the facts, and their logical connections. The truth is, much that is called science, is "falsely so-called;" and this leads to much embarrassment among careful thinkers. Truth is but another name for science; and when we once reach the bottom of things, and ascertain the truths of their phenomenal relations, we shall find as much exactness in one science as in another; since accuracy in arrangement is as necessarily a scientific test, as truth itself is. The truths of metaphysics are, therefore, just as certain as those of physics or mathematics; and the relations and correlations of these truths are none the less definite and certain since cause antecedes effect as surely in the one as in the other. This must be admitted, if we admit the exact relationship of correlated truths.

To say that the proper relations of these truths are more difficult of apprehension in one case than in another, is quite another thing. This arises from the very nature of these disputed sciences. The phenomenal truths of metaphysics, for instance, lie chiefly in the region of pure thought; and hence are more difficult of approach. And the means by which they have hitherto been reached, or rather approximated, have been