mars and to dictionaries. He would have

"6. That the capacity of the memory for the | acquires enough skill in conversing to help retention of foreign words is universally over- him on to a more thorough knowledge. Mr. estimated; and that every beginner ought, Prendergast would have grown people follow in reason, to ascertain by experiments the the same way. He objects both to gramprecise extent of his own individual power. 7. That inasmuch as a word, not perfectly retained by the memory, cannot be correctly the learner, with the assistance of a native reproduced, the beginner ought to restrict or idiomatically trained teacher, become poshimself within the limit of his ascertained sessed of a few score or a few hundred sencapacity. tences, and then build conversations out of 8. That he should therefore avoid seeing them until he has become possessed of the or hearing one word in excess of those which whole language. "A sentence," he says,

he is actually engaged in committing to memory.

9. That the mere perusal of a grammar clogs the memory with imperfect recollections of words, and fractions of words; and therefore it is interdicted.

· . 10. That, nevertheless, the beginner who adopts this method will not fail to speak grammatically.

"is a branch with every leaf arranged in the perfect order of nature. A branch may be used for purposes of decoration, or it may be carried as a flag of truce between warring tribes. But disunited words are of no more use to a learner than a sack of loose leaves would be to the decorator or to the herald of peace." Better than learning a hundred words, he urges, is the thorough acquisition of one sentence of eight or ten every-day words. "The sentences which the learner 12. That the epitome of language made commits to memory form the basis of his first by children, all the world over, is substan- oral exercises, and afterwards they become tially the same.

11. That the most notable characteristic of the child's process, is that he speaks fluently and idiomatically with a very small

number of words.

syn

tion

upon

13. That when a child can employ two the models for his future guidance in composhundred words of a foreign tongue, he posing new ones. By concentrating his attensesses a practical knowledge of all the them, instead of exercising it distactical constructions, and of all the foreign cursively upon a larger range, he acquires an sounds. idiomatic command of language on a small scale. If properly selected, a few sentences will afford him an incredible variety of expression, and he will not fail to speak grammatically, because, if he complies with the stipulations and restrictions, he cannot de

14. That every foreign language should therefore be epitomized for a beginner, by the framing of a set of strictly practical sentences, embodying two hundred of the most useful words, and comprising all the

most difficult constructions.

66

15. That by mastering' such an epit-viate from the true constructions, except ome, in the manner prescribed, a beginner through gross inattention to the models." will obtain the greatest possible results, with From first to last, Mr. Prendergast urges the the smallest amount of exertion; whilst, at importance of conducting the study of lanthe same time, he will have abundant leisure the pronunciation that prom- natural, way :— to bestow in the simplest, that is, in the most u pon inent attention to which it is entitled."

guage

The gist of the whole is, that we ought to "The course of nature combines analysis learn languages as children learn theirs, by and synthesis, with a practical knowledge of memory primarily and chiefly, and only after-all the constructions, and with a mere suffiwards by use of reason. A baby learning to speak, understands (and would repeat, were his mouth in sufficient practice for it) whole sentences before words. It is after many sentences have been addressed to him, in which the same words appear with different contexts, that he gets to know the full sig

nificance of those words. But meanwhile it

is easy for him to take in, and in due time to give out, the compact idiomatic sentences, and in that way he quickly and pleasantly

ciency, instead of a superabundance, of words. Idiomatic sentences become fixtures in the memory, and the analysis of them is so simple that it is easily performed even by young children. The latter have not, and they do not require, that critical power which educated men display in their investigations into the component parts of a new language, and the peculiar constructions thereof. The process is altogether different, and the soundness of the principle is obvious. For sentences learned by rote gradually dissolve themselves, and become decomposed, when the words are

severally used in other combinations, in the hearing of the child.

66

Thus, if he has learned the following five syllables, Give me some of that,' which to him are but one word or utterance, indivisible in the first instance, his attention is attracted by any portions of it, which he may chance to hear afterward applied in a different manner, as Give me that; 'I want some of that,' etc. He observes those variations; and by degrees he comprehends them, and employs them himself, not in supersession of the original sentence, but in addition to it. In this manner the analysis becomes, for all practical purposes, complete; and the meaning of the whole sentence becomes more and more clearly understood. He cannot be said to understand each of the words thoroughly, but he uses them intelligently and accurate ly. He cannot assign a score of meanings to the preposition of;' but his ignorance is not inexcusable, and it is no bar to his progress. "Such is the analysis of nature, resulting from a series of observations and inferences, drawn by infants from the known to the unknown, from the whole to its parts.

of the mind is thus directed in its effort to aoquire knowledge and take in the lessons of experience. But the most zealous adult student of languages has a hundred other subjects of attention, and distracting influences of all sorts. He is forced to learn more slowly, and to learn in other ways. If he does follow the childish way, he runs the risk of sharing the childlike incapacity for all but the simplest things, which marked the prince of language learners, to whom we have already referred as having set forth in practice the principles proved in theory by Mr. Prendergast, and whose best friend could only say of him, "With the keys of the knowledge of every nation in his hand, he never unlocked their real treasures;" while he himself was forced to exclaim, "What am I but an unbound dictionary!"

From Good Words.

THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER.

vale

home,

hold.

"The synthetic operation is merely the in- THE princely David, with his outlaw-band, sertion of other words, one by one, into their Lodged in the cave Adullam. Wild and fierce, appropriate niches in the sentences learned With lion-like faces, and with eagle eyes, by rote. Each new word corresponds gram- They followed where he led. The danger pressed; matically with that which it displaces. Thus, For over all the land the Philistines in the sentence above given he may introduce Had spread their armies. Through Rephaim's 'him' instead of me,' and those' instead Their dark tents mustered thick, and David's of that.' The substitution of the right word, in the right form, without any knowl- His father's city, Bethlehem, owned them lords edge of grammar, results from that instinct 'Twas harvest, and the crops of ripening corn of imitation and repetition which operates They ravaged, and with rude feet trampled down universally in the unsophisticated minds of The tender vines. Men hid themselves for fear children." In woods or caves. The brave undaunted few, Gathering round David, sought the mountain The sun was hot, and all day long they watched With spear in hand and never-resting eye, As those who wait for battle. But at eve The eye grew dim, the lips were parched with And from that arid rock no trickling stream thrist, Of living water gushed. From time-worn skins The tainted drops were poured, and fevered lips Half-loathing drank them up. And David's soul The strong sun smote on him, and, faint and sick, Was weary; the hot simoom scorched his veins; He sat beneath the shadow of the rock. And then before his eyes a vision came, Cool evening, meadows green, and pleasant Of murmuring fountain. Oft in days of youth, When leading home his flocks as sunset fell, That fount had quenched his thirst, and dark-eyed girls,

We have said and quoted enough to show the character of Mr. Prendergast's scheme of language-teaching. Its merits need not here be discussed. Excellent in the main, and worthy of attention from every one interested in the mastery of languages," it is not strange that the theory is in some respects pushed too far and made too much of. "Children learn to talk," we are told, "not by laborious conversational efforts for an hour at a time, three times a week; nor by scientific analysis and careful study of elegant authors for six or eight hours a day; but by never allowing half an hour to pass by without repeating, interchanging, and transposing the whole stock of idiomatic sentences which they have learned by heart." But a man cannot become a mere child. In infancy, a sort of instinct comes in aid of language learning; speech and the comprehension of speech come rapidly because the whole energy

sounds

The pride and joy of Bethlehem, meeting there,
(As, bright and fair, with waving locks of gold,
Greeted the shepherd boy, their chieftain's son
Exulting in the flush of youth's full glow,
He mingled with their throng), and gazing, rapt

With wonder at his beauty, gave him drink.
And now the words came feebly from his lips,
A murmur half in silence, which the ear

Of faithful followers caught: "Oh! who will
bring

From that fair stream, which, flowing by the gate
Of Bethlehem's wall, makes music in the ear,
One drop to cool this tongue?" They heard,
the three,

The mightiest of the thirty, swift of foot
As are the harts upon the mountains, strong
As are the lions down by Jordan's banks;
They heard and darted forth, down rock and crag
They leaped, as leaps the torrent on its course,
Through plain and vale they sped, and never
stayed,

Until the wide encampment of the foe
Warned them of danger nigh. But not for fear
Abandoned they their task. When evening fell,
And all the Philistines were hushed in sleep,
And over all the plain the full bright moon
Poured its rich lustre, onward still they stole,
By tent fires creeping with hushed breath, and feet
That feared to wake the echoes, till at last
They heard the babbling music, and the gleam
Of rippling moonlight caught their eager eye,
And o'er them fell the shade of Bethlehem's gate.
They tarried not. One full delicious draught
Slaked their fierce thirst, and then with anxious
haste

They filled their water-urn, and full of joy,
They bore it back in triumph to their lord.
With quickened steps they tracked their path
again

To Mecca's shrine, were grieved and vexed at
heart,

Impatient of delay. The scorching sand
Lay hot and blinding round them, and the blast
Of sultry winds as from a furnace mouth
Brought blackness to all faces. Whirling clouds
Of white dust filled their eyes, and, falling flat,
Crouching in fear, they waited till it passed.
Then, lifting up their eyes, there met their gaze
One fierce, hot glare, a waveless sea of sand.
No track of pilgrims' feet, nor whitening bones
Of camels or of asses marked their way.
They wandered on, by sun and moon and stars
Guessing their path, not knowing where they
went;

But Mecca's shrine they saw not.
Their scant stores scantier grew.
died;

Day by day,
Their camels

No green oasis met their yearning eyes,
No rippling stream brought gladness to their
hearts;

But glittering lakes that sparkled in the light,
Girt with the soft green tufts of feathery palm,
Enticed them, hour by hour, to wander on,
And, as they neared them, turned to wastes of
sand.

They thirsted, and with looks of blank despair
Beheld the emptied skins. One only, borne
By Ka'ab's camel, met their wistful gaze,—
Ka'ab, the rich, the noble, he who knew
The depths of Islam,* unto Allah's will
Resigning all his soul. And now he showed
How out of that submission flows the strength
For noblest acts of love. That priceless store
He claimed not as his own: the "mine" and

"thine"

Of selfish right he scattered to the winds,
And to his fellow-pilgrims offered all.
They shared it all alike. To Ka'ab's self
And Ka'ab's slave an equal portion came.

O'er plain and valley, up o'er rock and crag,
And as the early sunlight kissed the hills
They stood before him. He had won their hearts
By brave deeds, gentle words, and stainless life,
And now they came to give him proof of love,
And pouring out the water, bade him drink.
But lo! he would not taste. He heard their tale" Allah is great," he cried, about to drink
(In few words told, as brave men tell their deeds),
And lifting up his hands with solemn prayer,
As though he stood a priest before the shrine,
He poured it on the earth before the Lord.
"Far be it from me, God, that I should drink,
The slave of selfish lust, forgetting thee,
Forgetting these my brothers. In thine eyes
This water fresh and cool is as the blood
Of hero-souls who jeopardied their lives.
That blood I may not taste. As shrink the lips
From the hot life-stream of the paschal lamb,
So shrinks my soul from this. To thee, O Lord,
To thee I pour it. Thou wilt pardon me
For mine unkingly weakness, pardon them
For all rough deeds of war. Their noble love
Shall cover all their sins; for thou hast claimed,
More than all blood of bulls and goats, the will
That, self forgetting, lives in deeds like this."
So spake the hero-king, and all the host
Looked on and wondered; and those noble three,
The mightiest of the thirty, felt their souls
Knit closer to King David and to God.

With thankful adoration, when a wail
Of eager craving burst from parched lips,
And upturned eyes with fevered anguish watched
The precious life-draught. Ka'ab heard that cry,
His eye beheld that anguish, and his heart
Was stirred with pity. Tasting not a drop,
With calm and loving look he passed the cup
To those poor dying lips, and bore his thirst,
As martyrs bear their flames. His soul had

II.

THROUGH Wastes of sand the train of camels

wound

Their lingering way. The pilgrims, hasting on

learned,

Not Islam's creed alone that God is great:
A mightier name was written on his heart,
"God, the compassionate, the merciful;"
And yielding up his will to God's, the three-
Compassion, power, and greatness-were as one.

So ends the tale. And whether death came

soon

As sleep's twin-brother, with the longed-for rest,
And clear bright streams in paradise refreshed
The fevered thirst of earth-or if the dawn
Revealed the distant gleam of Mecca's shrine,
And led those pilgrims on to Zemzem's fount,
We know not. This we know, that evermore,
Like living water from the flinty rock,

*The word Islam-"Resignation "-embodies the one great law of Mahometan ethics,-submission to the will of God.

SHORT ARTICLES.-Wet and Dry, 656. Very Shocking, if True, 671.

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