and sincere value be placed upon it by ourselves, and the children see that our admiration is a reality. It exists much more generally in continental Europe, than in our own country. There, the decorations of public walks, parks, and gardens; the galleries of the arts, and the magnificent structures which adorn their cities, are looked at, enjoyed, admired, by all classes; and rarely, indeed, is the Vandal hand of mischief or destruction found to desecrate these monuments of a nation's refinement. But how is it with us? No sooner has the artist given the last touch to the fluted column, than some barbarian urchin chips off a wedge of it, in wanton sport. How often is our indignation excited by the painter's boy, who, as he passes the newly-erected dwelling or recentlypainted wall, daubs it with his black paint-brush, for yards in length, as he saunters heedlessly along. And what more common, in almost all public buildings, in cupolas, observatories, &c., especially, for persons, apprehensive of being forgotten by posterity, than to cut out their names or their initials, as if this were their only road to immortality!

The use of knives is the thing next prohibited. In mere primary schools, this rule, and the one last mentioned, would find, perhaps, little to do. Some, however, there are, I doubt not, even in such schools, who suffer from the too free use of knives, as their forms, desks, or benches, could testify. Nothing is more fascinating to a boy than a knife. And what pleasure can there be in possessing a knife, if one may not use it? Hence the trouble occasioned by the instrument. He early learns in imitation of his elders if not his betters, that wood was made to be cut, and that the mission of a knife is, to do the work.

This topic can hardly be thought out of place, by those who will look into the recitation-rooms of almost any of our colleges, where many a dunee, unworthy of any degree, soon, by his dexterity in this department, lays claim to that of master of the art,-of hacking; "and has his claim allowed."

I have already adverted to the whittling propensities of our people; but, with your permission, I will add a remark or two, with a view to placing this national peculiarity in a stronger light. So proverbial have we become, among foreigners, in this respect, that, if a Yankee is to be represented on the stage, you find him with a jackknife in one hand, and in the other a huge bit of pine timber, becoming every moment smaller, by his diligent handiwork. If he is talking, arguing, or, more appropriately, if he is driving a bargain, you find him plying this, his wonted trade, with all the energy and dexterity of a beaver; and, as it was once said of an English advocate, that he could never plead, without a piece of packthread in his hands, so the Yankee would lose half his thrift, unless the knife and wood were concomitants of his chaffering. But the habit is of evil tendency, and ought to be checked. He indulges in it without discrimination, upon whatever is cut-able; and, worse than the white ant, which saws down and carries away whole human habitations, when they have become deserted, the whittling Yankee would hack your dwelling in present occupation, until he rendered you houseless. Let the mischief be checked betimes; do it at school; showing, at the same time, the uselessness, the folly, and the annoying nature, of the habit. It is not merely at home, among our own people, that it is practiced by us; but we carry it with us wherever we go, and, even among strangers, establish our New England identity by it.

The spirit of the school rules at which we have glanced, should be carried into every family. It is not enough to present the summary at which we have arrived; we should also insist on minor particulars, by words and actions, not at school only, but at home, where great familiarity produces influences unfavorable to the exercise of courtesy,-such as the closing of all doors, especially in cold weather; the doing of it gently, without slamming; moving quietly over the floor; abstaining from shouting, whistling, boisterous plays, wearing the hat in the house, &c. Just in proportion as such habits can be secured by your labors, will you bring down upon your heads the blessing of mothers, worn by care, by sickness, and the rudeness of their offspring. Powerless themselves, to produce a reformation, their gratitude to you will be sincere and heartfelt. Children should be taught to take leave of their parents and friends, on going to school, and to offer the friendly salute and kind inquiry, on returning home. Nothing tends more to strengthen the silken cords of family affection, than these little acts of courtesy; and their influence on the observer is highly favorable to benevolent feeling. If these points are attended to in our families, they will not fail of being carried into company, where they are always a coin of sterling value. 26

DEDICATORY EXERCISES.

The opening of a new school-house is an occasion which well deserves a public and joyful commemoration. Out of it are to be the issues of life to the community in the midst of which it stands, and like the river seen in the vision of the prophet, which nourished all along its banks trees whose leaves were for the healing of the nations, the well-spring of all its influences should be a spot consecrated by religion. In prayer, and in praise to the Giver of all good, and the Author of all being,-in song, and hymn and anthem, and in addresses, from those whose position in society will command the highest respect for any object in whose behalf they may speak, and in the presence of all classes of the community, of pupils, and teachers, of fathers and mothers, of the old and young,-the schoolhouse should be set apart to the sacred purpose of the physical, intellectual and moral culture of the children who will be gathered within its walls. We rejoice to see that these occasions are thus improved, and that so many of our most distinguished teachers, scholars and statesmen take part in the exercises. We have before us a large number of addresses, at once eloquent and practical, which have been delivered at the opening of new school-houses, and we shall select a few, not for their superiority to the rest, but as specimens of the manner in which topics appropriate to the occasion are introduced, and as fitting testimony to the importance of SCHOOL ARCHITECTURE.

SCHOOL CELEBRATION AT SALEM, MASS.

On the first of March, 1842, the occasion of occupying several new school-houses, was marked by a variety of interesting exercises, an account of which will be found in the Common School Journal for that year. We copy the addresses of Mr. George B. Emerson, and of G. F. Thayer.

Mr. Emerson said,—

"I congratulate you, my young friends, on this happy event. This pleasant day is like a smile of Heaven upon this occasion; and I believe Heaven always smiles on events like this. Many of us whom you see here have come from a distance, on the invitation of your excellent friend the Mayor, to show the interest which we feel in you, and in what has been done here for your improvement. We have taken great pleasure in looking over the buildings prepared for your use, the admirable arrangements and apparatus, so much superior to what is usually enjoyed by children in your position. We have been pleased to hear of the faithful teachers that are provided for you, and the excellent plan of your studies, and the excellent regulations.

Your fathers and friends have spared no pains to furnish you with all the best means and opportunities for learning. They now look to you to do your part. All that they have done will be of no avail, unless you are excited to exert yourselves, to prove yourselves worthy of these great advantages.

I was gratified, in looking over the regulations, to see the course marked out for you,-to see the stress laid upon the great substantials of a good education,-to see the prominent place given to that most useful art, that

most graceful accomplishment, reading. You cannot, my young friends, realize the great and manifold advantages of gaining, now, in the beginning of your life, familiarly and perfectly, the single power of reading distinctly, naturally, intelligently, with taste and interest,-and of acquiring a love for reading. There is no situation in life, in which it will not prove to you a source of the purest pleasure and highest improvement.

For many years, and many times in a year, I have passed by the shop of a diligent, industrious mechanic, whom I have often seen busy at his trade, with his arms bare, hard at work. His industry and steadiness have been successful, and he has gained a competency. But he still remains wisely devoted to his trade. During the day, you may see him at his work, or chatting with his neighbors. At night, he sits down in his parlor, by his quiet fireside, and enjoys the company of his friends. And he has the most extraordinary collection of friends that any man in New England can boast of. William H. Prescott goes out from Boston, and talks with him about Ferdinand and Isabella. Washington Irving comes from New York, and tells him the story of the wars of Grenada, and the adventurous voyage of Columbus, or the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, or the tale of the Broken Heart. George Bancroft sits down with him, and points out on a map, the colonies and settlements of America, their circumstances and fates, and gives him the early history of liberty. Jared Sparks comes down from Cambridge, and reads to him the letters of Washington, and makes his heart glow with the heroic deeds of that godlike man for the cause of his country. Or, if he is in the mood for poetry, his neighbor Washington Allston, the great painter, steps in and tells him a story, and nobody tells a story so well, or repeats to him lines of poetry. Bryant comes, with his sweet wood-notes, which he learnt among the green hills of Berkshire. And Richard H. Dana, father and son, come, the one to repeat grave, heart-stirring poetry, the other to speak of his two years before the mast. Or, if this mechanic is in a speculative mood, Professor Hitchcock comes to talk to him of all the changes that have befallen the soil of Massachusetts, since the flood and before; or Professor Espy tries to show him how to predict a storm. Nor is his acquaintance confined to his own country. In his graver hours, he sends for Sir John Herschel from across the ocean, and he comes and sits down and discourses eloquently upon the wonders of the vast creation,—of all the worlds that are poured upon our sight by the glory of a starry night. Nor is it across the stormy ocean of blue waves alone that his friends come to visit him; but across the darker and wider ocean of time, come the wise and the good, the eloquent and the witty, and sit down by his table, and discourse with him as long as he wishes to listen. That eloquent blind old man of Scio, with beard descending to his girdle, still blind, but still eloquent, sits down with him; and, as he sang almost three thousand years ago among the Grecian isles, sings the war of Troy or the wanderings of the sage Ulysses. The poet of the human heart comes from the banks of Avon, and the poet of Paradise from his small garden-house in Westminster; Burns from his cottage on the Ayr, and Scott from his dwelling by the Tweed;-and, any time these three years past, may have been seen by his fireside a man who ought to be a hero with schoolboys, for no one ever so felt for them; a man whom so many of your neighbors in Boston lately strove in vain to see,-Charles Dickens. In the midst of such friends, our friend the leather-dresser lives a happy and respected life, not less respected, and far more happy, than if an uneasy ambition had made him a representative in Congress, or a governor of a State; and the more respected and happy that he disdains not to labor daily in his honorable calling.

My young friends, this is no fancy sketch. Many who hear me know as well as I do, Thomas Dowse, the leather-dresser of Cambridgeport,

and many have seen his choice and beautiful library. But I suppose there is no one here who knows a neighbor of his, who had in his early years the same advantages, but who did not improve them;-who never gained this love of reading, and who now, in consequence, instead of living this happy and desirable life, wastes his evenings in low company at taverns, or dozes them away by his own fire. Which of these lives will you choose to lead? They are both before you.

Some of you, perhaps, are looking forward to the life of a farmer,-a very happy life, if it be well spent. On the southern side of a gently sloping hill in Natick, not far from the place where may be still standing the last wigwam of the tribe of Indians of that name, in a comfortable farm-house, lives a man whom I sometimes go to see. I find him with his farmer's frock on, sometimes at the plough-tail, sometimes handling the hoe or the axe; and I never shake his hand, hardened by honorable toil, without wishing that I could harden my own poor hands by his side in the same respectable employment. I go out to look with him at trees and to talk about them; for he is a lover of trees, and so am I; and he is not unwilling, when I come, to leave his work for a stroll in the woods. He long ago learnt the language of plants, and they have told him their history and their uses. He, again, is a reader, and has collected about him a set of friends, not so numerous as our friend Dowse, nor of just the same character, but a goodly number of very entertaining and instructive ones; and he finds time every day to enjoy their company. His winter evenings he spends with them, and in repeating experiments which the chemists and philosophers have made. He leads a happy life. Time never hangs heavy on his hands. For such a man we have an involuntary respect.

On the other side of Boston, down by the coast, lived, a few years ago, a farmer of a far different character. He had been what is called fortunate in business, and had a beautiful farm and garden in the country, and a house in town. Chancing to pass by his place, some four or five years ago, I stopped to see him. And I could not but congratulate him on having so delightful a place to spend his summers in. But he frankly confessed that he was heartily tired of it, and that he longed to go back to Boston. I found that he knew nothing about his trees, of which he had many fine ones, for it was an old place he had bought,-nor of the plants in his garden. He had no books, and no taste for them. His time hung like a burden on him. He enjoyed neither his leisure nor his wealth. It would have been a blessing to him if he could have been obliged to exchange places with his hired men, and dig in his garden for his gardener, or plough the field for his ploughman. He went from country to town and from town to country, and died, at last, weary and sick of life. Yet he was a kind man, and might have been a happy one but for a single misfortune; he had not learned to enjoy reading. The love of reading is a blessing in any pursuit, in any course of life ;--not less to the merchant and sailor than to the mechanic and farmer. What was it but a love of reading which made of a merchant's apprentice, a man whom many of you have seen and all have heard of, the truly great and learned Bowditch?

Our friends the young ladies may not think this which I have said exactly suited to them. But to you, my young friends, even more than to your brothers, it is important now to acquire a talent for reading well, and a taste for reading. I say more important, for, looking forward to the future, you will need it more than they. They are more independent of this resource. They have their shops, and farms, and counting-houses to go to. They are daily on change. They go abroad on the ocean. The sphere of woman, her place of honor, is home, her own fireside, the cares of her own family. A well-educated woman is a sun in this sphere,

shedding around her the light of intelligence, the warmth of love and happiness.

And by a well-educated woman I do not mean merely one who has acquired ancient and foreign languages, or curious or striking accomplishments. I mean a woman who, having left school with a firmly-fixed love of reading, has employed the golden leisure of her youth in reading the best English books, such as shall prepare her for her duties. All the best books ever written are in English, either original or translated; and in this richest and best literature of the world she may find enough to prepare her for all the duties and relations of life. The mere talent of reading well, simply, gracefully,-what a beautiful accomplishment it is in woman! How many weary and otherwise heavy hours have I had charmed into pleasure by this talent in a female friend. But I speak of the higher acquisition, the natural and usual consequence of this, a taste for reading. This will give a woman a world of resources.

It gives her the oracles of God. These will be ever near her ;-nearest to her hand when she wakes, and last from her hand when she retires to sleep. And what stores of wisdom, for this world and for a higher, will she gain from this volume! This will enable her to form her own character and the hearts of her children. Almost every distinguished man has confessed his obligations to his mother. To her is committed the whole formation of the character,-mind, heart, and body, at the most important period of life. How necessary, then, is it that she should possess a knowledge of the laws of the body and the mind! and how can she get it but by reading? If you gain only this, what an unspeakable blessing will your education be to you!

I need not, my young friends, speak of the other acquisitions you may make, of writing, which places friends in the remotest parts of the world side by side, or of calculation, the very basis of justice and honesty.

The acquisitions you may make will depend chiefly on yourselves. You will find your teachers ready to lead you on to higher studies whenever you are prepared to go.

These excellent establishments are emphatically yours. They are raised for your good; and, as we your seniors pass away,-and in a few years we shall have passed,--these buildings will become your property, and your children will fill the seats you now occupy. Consider them yours, then, to enjoy and profit by, but not yours to waste. Let it be your pride to preserve them uninjured, unmarred by the mischievous knives and pencils of vulgar children. Unite for this purpose. Consider an injury done to these buildings as an injury done to yourselves.

There is another thing which will depend on you, of more importance than any I have spoken of. I mean the tone of character which shall prevail in these schools. Your teachers will be happy to treat you as high-minded and generous children. Show that you can be so treated; that you are such.

Let me congratulate you upon the happy auspices of the name of him under whom, with the zealous co-operation of enlightened and patriotic. associates, this momentous change in your school system has been effected, a -a name which is borne by the oldest and best school in New Hampshire, and by one of the oldest and best in Massachusetts. It will depend upon you, my friends, to make the schools of Salem, equally, or still more distinguished, among those of the State."

Mr. Thayer said,—

Children: I did not expect that I should have the privilege of addressing you, on this most joyful occasion; for it was not till I met your respected Mayor, an hour ago, at the beautiful school-house we have just