is neither more nor less than a “NORMAL SCHOOL.” As this term is not in Johnson’s Dictionary, it is inferred by our home oracles, that it exists not in any language, ancient or modern. As I cannot give its derivation, I shall try at its definition. It is a school where “_boys and girls are taught the rudiments of knowledge without wrangling about creeds_.” It is alike open to the Jew and the Gentile, the Protestant and Catholic, the Baptist and Anabaptist, the Unitarian and Trinitarian. Now as each of these sects holds its own theology to be the true orthodox one, I do not see how any _one form_ of religious instruction can be combined with elementary education. We might as well try to force the same note on all the inmates of a menagerie, as the same creed on all the elèves of a normal school. And, after all, why should theology be taken out of the hands of the pastor, to be put into those of the pedagogue? May not letters be taught without a Liturgy—and cyphering without a Catechism? We see that, in two of the most Protestant countries—Prussia and Holland—the system works well, at least peaceably. The children of various sects can learn to read without ridiculing, and to write without stigmatizing each other’s creeds. They live in peace while acquiring the rudiments of human knowledge at school—and they repair to the chapels or synagogues of their parents to hear the word of God, where it is most properly delivered. A youthful harmony or even friendship is thus generated among all persuasions, and is never afterwards entirely obliterated. But I imagine that an unnecessary dread of this “tree of knowledge,” whose mortal fruit— “Brought death into the world and all our woe,” is entertained by the good people of England. Reading, writing, and arithmetic do not constitute knowledge, but merely the machinery by which it may be afterwards acquired. These rudiments are, like the types of the printer distributed in their compartments—void of learning or science in themselves, till they are worked up by the compositor—who, himself is only an instrument in the hands of a higher agent. “The instruction given in the schools (says an excellent observer, Mr. Chambers) is deficient of nearly all that bears on the cultivation of the perceptive and reflective faculties, and consequently the expansion of the intellect.” This education rarely extends beyond reading, writing, arithmetic, and geography—while the superior orders are taught the French language. At or under 14 years of age, the child leaves school and merges on the ordinary avocations of life. There is in Holland nearly a total absence of scientific instruction. Words not things are taught, and no taste is generated for literature. Yet this elementary education at school, and religious instruction at home, have rendered the people remarkable for order, piety, and morality. In no other country is there so little crime or squalid poverty.