Scenes on a Stage Coach.—The views of the mountains as the afternoon wore away, grew more and more interesting. The ravines darkened, the summits brightened. Cloud-shadows chased each other up and down the steeps, or, flitting slowly across the valley, spread thick mantles of black that seemed to deaden the sound of our wheels as we passed over them. On one side all was light, on the other all gloom. But the landscape is not all that may be seen to advantage from the top of a stage coach.
From time to time, as something provoked an exclamation of surprise or pleasure, certain of the inside occupants manifested open discontent. They were losing something where they had expected to see everything.
While the horses were being changed, one of the insiders, I need not say it was a woman, thrust her head outside of the window, and addressed the young person perched like a bird upon the highest seat. Her voice was soft and persuasive. “Miss!” “Madam!” “I’m so afraid you find it too cold up there. Sha’n’t I change places with you?” The little one gave her voice a droll inflection as she briskly replied: “Oh, dear, no, thank you; I’m very comfortable indeed.” “But,” urged the other, “you don’t look strong; indeed, dear, you don’t. Aren’t you very, very tired, sitting so long without any support to your back?” “Thanks, no; my spine is the strongest part of me.” “But,” still persisted the inside, changing her voice to a loud whisper, “to be sitting alone with all those men!” “They mind their business, and I mind mine,” said the little one reddening; “besides,” she quickly added, “you proposed changing places, I believe!” “Oh!” returned the other, with an accent impossible to convey in words, “if you like it.” “I tell you what, ma’am,” snapped the one in possession, “I’ve been all over Europe alone, and was never once insulted except by persons of my own sex.”—From Drake’s “Heart of the White Mountains.”
Every Man has his Price.—It is a curious trait in human nature, that each individual places the highest value on himself; treats the world as if it were only in existence on his account, looks upon himself as if he were the central point round which all things turn—and that yet, in spite of this universal self-appreciation, so many persons make themselves the slaves of others, or of some insignificant desire of their own. This contradiction in the human mind, this inordinate pride of men in combination with ignorance of their own true value, this insatiable self-seeking in connection with so contemptible a depreciation of themselves, is so common that we are only astonished that thoughtful persons, perceiving it in others, are not thereby led to discover it in themselves.… Every man has a price at which he sells himself. What is thy price? Hast thou ever weighed what thou art really worth? Go into thy chamber and devote some moments of earnest thought to an examination of thyself, and try to discover for what earthly good thou wouldst be likely to give thyself away. Look no farther back than the last year; pass in review thy secret thoughts and silent wishes even of the last few weeks only! Ah! a short while will no doubt suffice to show thee thy weak points, which, had they been assailed by any tempter, would soon have revealed to thee at what price thou wouldst have sold thy goodness, thy Christian principles, thy heaven on earth, thy eternal prospects. Thou shudderest? Thou wouldst rather not look into thyself? But if thou valuest thy goodness, thy Christian principles, thy heaven on earth, thy eternal prospects, ah, shrink not from this self-investigation?—From Zschokke’s “Meditations on Life, Death, and Eternity.”
Advice to an Inexperienced Teacher of History.—But the method of teaching history must be determined in the main by the object aimed at. If the object is to deposit in the mind the greatest number possible of historical facts, there is perhaps no better way than to confine the instruction to drill upon the contents of a manual by question and answer, with frequent examinations in writing. Such a method would probably be effective in two ways; it would give learners positive knowledge, or the semblance of it, and it would pretty certainly make them hate history. I do not hesitate to say that the ultimate purpose of school instruction should be to incite an interest in history, and to create a love for historical reading.
A word may be here most conveniently said on the subject of chronology. A few dates should be well fixed in the memory; they should be carefully selected by the teacher, and some explanation given of their significance. But “a few,” you will say, is a little indefinite. Of course, opinions will differ as to the number of indispensable dates in any history, though there might be a general assent to the principle of requiring the pupil to commit as few as possible. Of the two hundred and fifty dates given in “Smith’s Smaller History of Greece,” I insist on fifteen, and I think the number might be reduced to ten. But if learners are properly taught, they will, of course, be able to determine a great many dates approximately.
Remembering that you must make history interesting, to that end use all available means to produce vivid impressions. This is a trite remark, but it will bear repeating. Casts, models, coins, photographs, relief maps, may not be at your command, but maps of some sort you must have. Historical instruction, without the constant accompaniment of geography, has no solid foundation—“is all in the air.”—From “Methods of Teaching History.”[AK]