increased its popularity; and the accommodations provided for it, large as they were, were soon crowded. For the first three years it had to contend with numerous and unscrupulous foes; some of whom attacked the system, others its practical workings, others still, who were strangers to his person, attacked the character of the principal of the school. Meantime, Mr. Page labored indefatigably; against the assaults upon the organization, or its practical operations, he interposed able, manly, and courteous defenses; those which were leveled at himself, he bore in silence; but no man, whatever his position in the state, and however bitter might have been his hostility to the school, or to its principal, ever came within the magnetism of his presence and influence, without being changed from an enemy to a friend. Among the most decided, as well as the most conscientious opposers of the normal school, was the Hon. Silas Wright; indeed, in his election as governor, the enemies of the school claimed a triumph, and counted largely on his eminent abilities to aid them in putting it down; but a very few months' residence in Albany converted this man, of strong and determined will, into one of its sincerest friends. During the vacations of the school, Mr. Page gave himself no rest; he visited different parts of the state, attended teachers' institutes, lectured day after day, and, wherever he went, removed prejudices, cleared up doubts, and won golden opinions. Every such visit drew a large number of pupils to the school from the section visited the ensuing term. The state superintendent was accustomed to say, "that he needed only to look at the catalogue of the normal school to tell where Mr. Page had spent his vacations."

Before four years had passed, the school had ceased to be an experiment;" it was too firmly rooted in the hearts of the people to be abandoned, and the opposition, which had at first been so formidable, had dwindled into insignificance. But the toil requisite to accomplish this, had been too arduous for any constitution, however vigorous, to endure. The autumnal term of 1847 found him cheerful and hopeful as ever, but with waning physical strength; he sought (an unusual thing for him,) the aid of his colleagues in the performance of duties he had usually undertaken alone, and at length consented to take a vacation of a week or two during the Christmas holidays. Alas! the relaxation came too late; the evening before he was to leave, there was a meeting of the faculty at his residence; he was cheerful, but complained of slight indisposition, and retired early. With the night, however, came violent fever, and restlessness, and by the morning light, the physicians in attendance pronounced the disease pneumonia. At first the attack excited little alarm, but it soon

became evident that his overtasked vital powers had not the ability to resist the violence of the disorder. On the fourth day, he expressed to a friend his conviction that he should not recover. The severity of the disease soon increased, and, on the morning of January 1st, 1848, he passed away.

Six months before his death, he had, in company with one of his colleagues, made a brief visit to his former home, at Newburyport; and, while visiting the beautiful cemetery there, he stopped suddenly near a shady spot, and said, "here is where I desire to be buried." The sad funeral train which bore the clay that once had been his earthly habitation, from Albany to Newburyport, laid it sadly, yet hopefully, in that quiet nook, to repose till the archangel's trump shall be heard, and the dead be raised.

His life had been short, as men count time; he lacked six months of completing his thirty-eighth year when he was summoned to the better land; but, if life be reckoned by what is accomplished, then had his life been longer far than that of the antediluvian patriarchs. Of the hundreds of teachers who were under his care at Albany, there was not one who did not look up to him with admiration and love; not one who did not bear, to some extent, at least, the impress of his character and influence; and, it is doing no injustice to those who have so worthily succeeded him, to say that a very large part of the progress which the Empire State has made in the cause of education, during the past ten years, has been from the reflex influence of his spirit and teachings upon those who were his pupils. Nor is this influence confined to New York; other states feel it; even now, men, who were trained under him at Albany, are occupying high positions in the cause of education in several of the Western States; and gifted women, who, under his teachings, were moved to consecrate themselves to the holy duty of training the young, are now at the head of seminaries and female schools of high order, extending his influence in widening circles over the boundless prairies of the West.

Our brief narrative exhibits, we think, clearly what were the marked traits of Mr. Page's character; industry, perseverance, decision, energy, great executive ability, ready tact, and conscientious adherence to what he regarded as duty. But no language can describe the fascination of his manner, the attraction of his presence, his skill in what he was accustomed to call the drawing-out process, or his tact in making all his knowledge available. His familiar lectures to his pupils on subjects connected with the teacher's life and duties, could they be published, would form an invaluable hand-book for

teachers. He possessed, beyond most men, the happy talent of always saying the right thing at the right time. In personal appearance, Mr. Page was more than ordinarily prepossessing, of good hight and fine form, erect and dignified in manner, scrupulously neat in person, and easy in address, he was a living model to his pupils, of what a teacher should be. Aside from a few lectures, published at different times, to some of which we have already alluded, Mr. Page left but one published work,-" The Theory and Practice of Teaching," a work which has had a large circulation, and one which no teacher can afford to be without.

As evidence of the estimation in which Mr. Page was held by the distinguished teachers with whom he had been associated, we subjoin a portion of the addresses made on the subject, at the meeting of the American Institute of Instruction, on the announcement of his death.

Mr. Gideon F. Thayer said Mr. Page possessed a clear and logical mind, a sound judgment, and remarkable powers of discrimination; decision and firmness for all occasions, unwavering integrity, and a fearless exercise of his own rights without infringing on the rights or wounding the sensibilities of others. Dignity, affability, and courtesy, were so beautifully blended in his manners, as to secure respect and conciliate regard.

He began to teach when quite young, and, struggling with difficulties, neither few nor small, arose at last, through various important grades, to the highest rank in his profession,-being, at the time of his death, the principal of the state normal school, in the capital of New York. And although he had to encounter distrust and opposition, on assuming this extremely responsible charge, he, in a short period of time, lived down these obstacles, which a blind prejudice against the institution had generated, and died,—if not without an enemy,-leaving a multitude of devoted and sorrowing friends.

The secret of his success was found in the characteristics above mentioned, in his thorough conscientiousness, his religious principle, his fidelity in duty, connected with his self-faith, his diligence, and his indomitable will. He felt that he could, he resolved,-he conquered!

He was a man of genuine modesty, and felt, to the day of his death, not as though he had fully attained and were already perfect; but constantly strove for additional acquisitions to the very liberal stock which his industry and perseverance bad secured to him.

The last time I had the pleasure of seeing him, was in November, 1847, when, in a discussion upon the value of the study of the classics, he intimated that he had become somewhat familiar with the Latin, but had not made much progress in the Greek. "I intend, however," he added with enthusiasm, "to master that too, within the coming year, if my life is spared." Alas that the condition could not be fulfilled!

He thus filled up the measure of his life; not only in term-time, when the labors of his school occupied his mind and called for all his energies; but, in his vacations, when his exhausted powers demanded relaxation, he was still in harness, visiting schools, institutes, and conventions of teachers, throughout the broad surface of the Empire State; teaching, lecturing, and aiding those who needed h's efficient assistance in the great work of common school education. To these supererogatory labors is to be attributed his early decline; he became the victim of excessive mental and bodily toil; sacrificing his life to his insatiable desire to benefit his race.

In debate, Mr. Page was able, candid, and forcible. He was blessed with a noble figure, a manly bearing, and great personal comeliness; all which were lighted up and adorned by an intelligence that flashed from his fine eye and beamed from the lineaments of his countenance; while a voice of much compass and No. 15.-VOL. V., No. 3.]—52.

sweetness added its charm, and completed the outline of a most accomplished and eloquent orator.

His labors among us in this Institute, were of the most valuable kind. Among the lectures which he delivered to us, was one on the reciprocal duties of parents and teachers, six thousand copies of which were printed and distributed over the land; doing good to all parties interested, and furnishing lessons of wisdom, which will continue to bless the age, though their author has passed to his high reward. This, and his larger work, will now be more dearly cherished, since his task on earth is finished; and will, as we trust, be a means of inciting multitudes to enlightened and judicious action, in the great work of training the child for his heavenly destiny.

In conclusion, the speaker said he would not enlarge on the character of the deceased. It was too well known to need his feeble eulogium. It was written in letters of living light on the walls of the various institutions, with which the deceased had been connected. It was impressed in ineffaceable lines on the tablets of the hearts of those who knew him, and especially of those whose early steps in the path of knowledge and virtue he had led with parental solicitude, and of his more recent pupils, prepared, by his instruction and wise counsel, for the duties of the teacher's vocation.

He would, therefore, by the permission of the chair, offer, for the adoption of the Institute, the following resolutions.

Resolved, That, in the demise of DAVID P. PAGE, the cause of education has lost an efficient friend, our fraternity an able and faithful coadjutor, and the community a member devoted to its highest and most sacred interests.

Resolved, That, while this Institute laments the bereavement of a warmly-esteemed and most worthy brother, its members will not cease to cherish the remembrance of his high aims, his spotless life, his reverence for religion, his singular devotion to the cause of man, and his consequent success and triumph over the difficulties of his vocation.

Resolved, That we hold the life and character of Mr. Page as a valuable legacy to the teacher, the citizen, and the philanthropist; and feeling that, though dead, he yet speaketh, we will endeavor to make his example a model for our imitation, as teachers, as men, and as citizens.

Resolved, That we deeply sympathize with the family of the deceased in this irreparable loss, and that a copy of these resolves be transmitted to the afflicted widow.

Resolved, That these resolutions be entered upon the records of the Institute. Mr. Wm. H. Wells said, as a citizen of Newburyport, the field of Mr. Page's labors for several years previous to his removal from Massachusetts, I beg leave to offer a word in relation to the resolutions before us.

To the teachers of Essex County, the name of Mr. Page is a term of deep and solemn interest. We loved Mr. Page sincerely while living; and we now cherish a most affectionate regard for his memory. He advanced rapidly in our midst, from the humble charge of a district school, to such a degree of eminence and reputation in his profession, that we were unable to retain his services among us. In rising to eminence himself, Mr. Page did much to honor and elevate the profession to which his life was devoted. Truly, a standard-bearer has fallen, and every teacher in the land has lost a sincere and devoted friend. England will as soon find another Thomas Arnold, as America another David P. Page.

We introduce the following as specimens of Mr. Page's method of illustrating different processes of teaching.

POURING-IN PROCESS.

This consists in lecturing to a class of children upon every subject which occurs to the teacher, it being his chief aim to bring before them as many facts in a limited time as possible. It is as if he should provide himself with a basket of sweetmeats, and every time he should come within reach of a child, should seize him, and compel him to swallow-regardless of the condition of his stomachwhatever trash he should happen first to force into his mouth. Children are indeed fond of sweetmeats, but they do not like to have them administered—and every physiologist knows there is such a thing as eating enough, even of an agreeable thing, to make one sick, and thus produce loathing forever after. Now many teachers are just such misguided caterers for the mind. They are ready to seize upon the victims of their kindness, force open their mental gullets, and pour in, without mercy and without discretion, whatever sweet thing they may have at hand, even though they surfeit and nauseate the poor sufferer. The mind, by this process, becomes a mere passive recipient, taking in without much resistance whatever is presented, till it is full.

"A passive recipient!" said one to his friend, "what is a passive recipient ?” "A passive recipient," replied his friend, "is a two-gallon jug. It holds just two gallons, and, as it is made of potters' ware, it can never hold but just two gallons." This is not an unfit illustration of what I mean by making the mind a passive recipient. Whenever the teacher does not first excite inquiry, first prepare the mind by waking it up to a desire to know, and, if possible, to find out by itself, but proceeds to think for the child, and to give him the results, before they are desired, or before they have been sought for-he makes the mind of the child a two-gallon jug, into which he may pour just two gallons, but no more. And if, day after day, he should continue to pour in, day after day he may expect that what he pours in will all run over. The mind, so far as retention is concerned, will act like the jug; that is, a part of what poured in to-day will be diluted by a part of that which is forced in to-morrow, and that again will be partially displaced and part ally mingled with the next day's pouring, till, at length, there will be nothing characteristic left. But, aside from retention, there is a great difference between the jug and the mind. The former is inert material, and may be as good a jug, after such use, as before. But the mind suffers by every unsuccessful effort to retain.

This process of lecturing children into imbecility is altogether too frequently practiced; and it is to be hoped that intelligent teachers will pause and inquire, before they pursue it further.

The other process to which I wish to call attention, is that which, for the sake of distinguishing it from the first, I shall denominate the

DRAWING-OUT PROCESS.

This consists in asking what the lawyers call leading questions. It is practiced, usually, whenever the teacher desires to help along the pupil. "John," says the teacher, when conducting a recitation in Long Division, "John, what is the number to be divided called?" John hesitates. "Is it the dividend?" says the teacher. "Yes, sir; the dividend." "Well, John, what is that which is left, after dividing, called ?-the remainder-is it?" "Yes, sir." A visitor now enters the room, and the teacher desires to show off John's talents. "Well, John, of what denomination is the remainder?"

John looks upon the floor.

Is n't it always the same as the dividend, John ?"

"Yes, sir."

Very well, John," says the teacher, soothingly, "what denomination is this dividend?" pointing to the work on the board.

"Yes, sir; dollars."

"Very well; now what is this remainder?" John hesitates.

Why, dollars too, is n't it?" says the teacher.

Dollars, is it not?"