grammar taught in a century. It must be observed that a valuable part of the study of Shakespeare is of the same nature as this of which I have been treating. The study of the poet is largely a process of simply unfreighting words; an exercise in obtaining impressions from language under unfavorable circumstances, but with every thing to stimulate and reward the effort. We cannot find him lowered to the comprehension of young minds, as we can this scattered wit and wisdom, or he would be a perfect substitute for it.
It is pertinent to ask how we know, how we become certain, that we correctly conceive the idea of a word or a sentence. The only answer which can be given is, that our judgment seems to rely upon the general symmetry of the whole thought, a harmony of parts, a connection through and through which satisfies the mind that it is right. The judgment may err here as well as elsewhere. The accuracy of this mental perception depends wholly upon the general power and activity of the reader. The great thing is, that the reader should obtain a clear, consistent, and reasonable idea, taking into consideration all the circumstances and connections.
But there is a thing which education can invariably secure, and that is a ready consciousness that we do or do not obtain a clear, coherent idea from what we read. It would be unreasonable to demand that education should give us the power to understand all that we read; but it is perfectly reasonable to demand that it should give us the power to discriminate quickly between what we understand and what we do not understand; that it should develop that kind of attention which notifies us at once when we fail to get or comprehend clearly an author's thought. The failure here is one of the saddest features connected with the subject of reading, and, indeed, with the whole matter of common-school education. From the lowest grades to the highest our children read, learn, and recite passages, without comprehending them, and, what is far worse, without realizing their want of comprehension. Any close observer and questioner can satisfy himself of this by a short visit to the school of his own district. This is an unpardonable weakness in the methods of instruction. It is a shame, and there can be no defense for it. From every thing that he reads or learns, the child can, and should get, not necessarily a correct idea, but an idea intelligible and coherent according to his powers; or else he should be. perfectly conscious that he gets no such idea.
It has become chronic with college presidents, professors, and examiners generally, to complain of the inability of our youth to speak and write the language. If these wise men were as wise as they ought to be, they would discover that they have not yet reached the fundamental evil. They must probe deeper if they would reach the bottom. The foundation of the trouble lies in the want of ability, or rather in the want of the habit of understanding language fully.
In spite of all our systematic education, there is a fearful lack of
