LETTER V.

THE first evening of our arrival was passed in the society of M. de Fellenberg's family, which consists of his son and daughter-in-law, and four unmarried daughters. Our children, and the lads with whom we were already acquainted, were invited to join us. There was no other restraint than such as is imposed by the habits of good society. Conversation and music were our amusements, the room being sufficiently large to allow both to proceed without interruption to either. We retired at an early hour, satisfied and thankful that thus far all was well. We had arranged to visit Hofwyl previous to the vacation, both because we desired to see the Institution at work, and also because we would not deprive our sons of the advantage of the tour which occupies the summer holidays. It was understood they were to pass their hours of recreation with us, and that there was to be no other interruption to their usual course of life. The regularity observed on all occasions has always been so complete, that it was mentioned to us as a singular circumstance by one of the pupils, that an extra

half-holiday has never been known at Hofwyl. Our first morning was occupied in general observations; it was a warm bright day, and we left our apartments to saunter about, with the feelings of travellers, who somewhat weary of locomotion, were yet well prepared to enjoy the quiet contemplation of the industry going on around.

Imagine us seated on one of the many benches scattered about the place, ready to receive rather than seek impressions. Not far from us is the study where one of the music-masters gives the lessons-sufficiently distant from the other classrooms to avoid interruption. We hear the sound of a violin evidently in the hands of a beginner, making his first attempts at scales, aided at intervals by a confirmed and well-practised hand. At a little distance are scattered some of the Real Schulers (the pupils of the middle school) sketching the large barn and adjacent buildings — a master superintending them. On our left, near the Manège, are two or three of the Rural Scholars breaking stones for the repair of the roads; while under the shade of the projecting roof of the school-house, sit two women preparing the vegetables for the noon-day meal; and occasionally passing to and fro, in the fulfilment of their particular avocations, may be seen a smith, a car

penter, a shoemaker, or a vacher (dairy-man), &c. After a while we change our place, and passing through the château garden, two women in their broad-brimmed black chip hats, their braided hair hanging down their backs, are clearing the rows of lettuces, beans, peas, &c. from weeds; and by the time we are seated under the sycamores on the play-ground, the clock of the great house strikes the hour, and is echoed by his brother of the château. Then in about another minute the sounds of young cheerful voices are heard, and from the doors of the Grande Maison, the carpenters' shop, music-room, fencing-room, &c. issue the young students; the fountain is surrounded, some washing their hands in the basin, and all in turn drinking from the ever-flowing pipe which they can reach by means of a step, and by grasping the column allow the stream to flow through their lips, without any danger of wetting their clothes. Two or three run to the circular swing, another climbs the pole, while a party of the little ones jump on the horizontal tree, and commence a sport I have never seen before, but which a future letter may describe. Some are off to the gardens. A professor leaves the great house, and crosses the bosquet; another is leaning over the railing beneath the portico, two or three of the

elder lads talking with him. In something more than five minutes all is quiet, some have re-entered the Grand Maison, one has run up the stairs to the carpenters' shop; the sound of voices singing in parts is heard from the music-room; two or three boys with drawing-books and pencil-cases, accompany the drawing-master to another part of the grounds; while a party of Real Schulers go towards the fields with a master, the large tin case carried by one of them betokens a botanising excursion; we too move on, and passing near the spot whence we heard the violin, we now catch the notes of a pianoforte; we next hear the stamp of the fencer, so expressive of defiance and of eagerness for the encounter, followed by the clash of the foils, and the voice of the fencing-master, uttering in French the peculiar phraseology of his art. Beneath the trees sits a servant knitting, while the little children under her care are playing near her. At the fountain by the château is a rural scholar washing some of the windows, which are so contrived as to be removed whole, and thus cleaned at a great economy of time, labour, and personal safety. Proceeding to the manège, or gymnasium, we find some of the Real Schulers going through their gymnastic exercises.

This is a slight sketch of the kind of scene daily and hourly going on at Hofwyl. On this our first introduction we felt that we were breathing an atmosphere of willing industry. Yet the moving power was invisible. No bells-no signals-no authoritative voices-no truants— no creeping laggards. The clocks strike the hours, and the occupations change, each pupil proceeds to his next occupation as a matter of course, an interval of ten minutes being allowed. "What," I inquired of a pupil who had been at Hofwyl nearly a year, " is the penalty for failing to be in time at the various lessons?" "I don't know of any particular punishment," was the reply; "of course if the fault were often repeated, it would be corrected; but one would rather not be too late." This remark, together with the apparent willingness and regularity with which all proceeded to their occupations, is one evidence of the successful application of the principle "to respect the liberty of the pupil." Mr. Woodbridge has made some admirable remarks on this subject. He says, " in general the pupil is taught and required to govern himself." Where there are arbitrary restraints and severe penalties, this result can scarcely be secured; and at least it must be difficult to discover whether obedience arises