Dr. Thomas G. Masaryk, professor of philosophy in the ancient University of Prague, and member of the Austrian Parliament, arrived at New York last month. Following a brief lecture tour through the United States, he will address the International Council of Unitarian and other liberal religious thinkers and workers, which meet in Boston September 22-27. Professor Masaryk has written many pamphlets on philosophical, religious and political subjects, and is the editor of the daily Cas or Times, an organ of the anti-clerical party in Austria. Dr. Masaryk is accompanied by his American wife, formerly Miss Garrigue of New York City.

Dr. Angelo Heilprin, the famous geologist and paleontologist, died in New York last month. He was born in Hungary at Satoralja-Ujhely, in 1853, and was brought to this country at the age of three years. Professor Heilprin will probably be most universally remembered for his daring ascent of Mount Pelee just after the destruction of Martinique. He had been ill for two months with tropical fever, which he contracted in South America some years ago, but

his end was unexpected, and was the result of heart disease.

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A party of scientists have sailed from Seattle, Wash., to cruise for several months in northern waters. The little vessel "Lydia," of 400 tons, has been chartered, and fitted out for the expedition. The principal purpose of this cruise is to study the geological formation of the Aleutian group of islands, and other scientific features connected with that archipelago. The party will make particular investigation of Perry Island, which suddenly rose from the sea more than a year ago. This party is headed by Dr. T. A. Jaggar,, Jr., head of the department of geology, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and includes Dr. H. S. Eakle, University of California; Prof. H. V. Gummery, professor of mathematics, Drexel institute, Philadelphia, who will have charge of the magnetic observations; Dr. Van Dyke, who will study the botany and entomology of these islands, and Prof. F. T. Colby, who will look into the natural history of the region. The party will begin working westward from Attu Island, and will devote several months' time to their researches.

A teacher, like a poet, is born and not made. But what is meant by this? Not that a poor teacher may not be made a better teacher by study and special training, but that the habits and traits which make a good teacher are, for the most part, already established long before he comes to take his special course in pedagogy or education psychology. It is the background of general training which lies behind the special training, that counts.

What, then, is the value of psychology in teaching? The question is much as if one should ask, what is the value in walking of a knowledge of the anatomy of the muscles? Or what is the value in eating of a knowledge of the physiology of digestion? As everybody knows,

to think of your stomach when you eat, is apt to interfere with digestion rather than otherwise. It is fatal to the performance of a gymnastic feat if the athlete turns his attention too directly upon the muscles he must use in accomplishing it. We direct the attention of the child who is learning to write to the copy, not to his fingers. If psychology in education meant that one must be self-conscious in his teaching, one would soon be in the state of the poor centipede who one day happened to think how many feet he had, and then got so tangled up that he couldn't walk at all.

All study of science is for the sake of controlling every-day experience we save time in doing a piece of work if we first stop to sharpen our tools. And

in doing the latter, one often gets the best results of he gives his undivided attention for the time being to the sharpening, and does not try to mix the two things. If we think too much about the use we are going to make of the tool, we are liable to dig the edge of the blade into the grindstone, and so defeat our end. The value of psychology in education is indirect, but it is none the less real. Because one does not constantly think and talk about his conscience is no evidence that his life is not controlled by moral principles. Indeed, the more one acts out these moral principles unconsciously, the more proof that they are thoroughly organized into his character. It is so with teaching. The best teacher is not the one who wears his psychology on his sleeve, but the one who in his actual teaching is no more formally conscious of his psychological principles than in his walking he is conscious of his muscles.

If this is true, then psychology is of value to the teacher only so far as he has assimilated the knowledge which it gives, only so far as his study of psychology has reacted into his own experience and becomes a "second nature." No amount of merely superficial acquisition of knowledge about the child-mind, about mental development, about the relations between the psychical processes, will improve one's teaching, as long as this information has not transformed one's own character and given one a truer conception of the meaning of one's own life. Psychological knowledge must first have disciplined our own lives as teachers and sprung up in a fresh growth of personal culture, before it can find its way by the devious channels of instruction into the lives of our pupils.

Psychology is of value to the teacher primarily, in that it gives him a truer knowledge of himself. It gives him a deeper and broader conception of the meaning of experience in general. If the mind works in a purely haphazard way, or if the individual is a merely passive recipient of impressions from without, then we can expect little help from psychology, for that science views human. experience in a totally different way from. this. It shows us that the mind is an

active process, the dynamic functioning of a psycho-physical organism, all the parts of which are reciprocally related. The psychology of today is organic and functional in its method. It views the soul, not as a thing, but as a process. Mind is not a cabinet with pigeon-holes for its separate faculties, but a biological growth, manifesting itself in diverse types of behavior. Activity, therefore, is its fundamental category, the activity of a self, adjusting itself in a complex physical and social environment. All the multiform intellectual traits which mental development exhibits and which have. been seized upon by educators from time immemorial, are now seen to be manifestations of the one fundamental principle of the adjustment of a self in the midst of a world of changing conditions. The life of thought, memory and reason must be interpreted in terms of active and emotional tendencies. Instinct and impulse, habit and attention, feeling and volition, these are the controlling principles.

In other words, in order to understand the true bearing of psychology on education it is necessary first to conceive of experience in general as a unitary and continuous movement, undergoing development. opment. It is then possible to see the true setting in the larger context, of that part of living which we call education. For education, in the last analysis, is nothing but the process of continual controlled adjustment and readjustment of the growth of experience-a process in which the aim of the teacher is to transmit the accumulated wisdom of the race to the immature member of society, in such a way as to enable him for himself to gain control over this same process of adjustment. Psychology is the attempt to understand the facts and laws of this process of experience as it is handed on from individual to individual. And such a science must begin with a faithful study of the principles of growth which are operative within our own experience as teachers.

Only in the light of such a conception of one's own experience is it possible to gain a true view of the nature of the mind of the pupil. The older education was based on the psychology of

the adult mind. It neglected to study the being who was to be educated. The result was that the methods of teaching were often not adapted to the needs of the child. The newer education sees the necessity of reconstructing its methods in terms of the growth of the developing mind.

The development of the individual organism, so the biologists tell us, recapitulates the evolution of the race. The same is true of mental life. But mental development in the individual is not an exact epitome of the evolution of mind in the race. There are short cuts. Many of the ancestral stages are dropped out, or so greatly abbreviated, that we have to reconstruct the process of growth. Hence the necessity of teachers.

The

The most prominent characteristic of the healthy child is his irrepressible activity and impulsiveness. His experience is like that of the animal in its immediate, emotional, expressive nature. Like the animal, the child is dominated more by deep-lying instincts than by deliberate reflection. But the child differs vastly from the animal in two respects: his capacity and his suggestibility. child's superiority on the side of capacity is due to his human ancestry, his spiritual inheritance. He has within him germs of intellectual and moral growth which are the result of long eras of struggle and the gradual emancipation of the human from the restrictions of the animal stage of existence. On the side of suggestibility, also, the human child far surpasses the young of the lower animals. Suggestibility is just another name for educability. The child is teachable as the chick or kitten or pup or colt is not.

The significance of the fact that the child's experience is so predominantly impulsive and affective in character lies in the fact that this leads him to endless experiment with his environment. He is constantly handling objects, questioning those older than himself about them, examining into the What, the How, and the Why, the Whence, the Whither, and the Wherefore of things. And coupled with this curiosity is the impulse to imitate, to copy, to attempt everything that he sees others do. In this way he comes

into contact with an immensely wider environment and with a greater range of objects than he would if he did not possess these fundamental propulsive tendencies to action.

One feature especially of the child's development seems to reflect the evolution of consciousness in the race. This is the fact that each of these instincts and impulses has its own period of maximal intensity. Now it is the nursing instincts; again, it is imitativeness; at another time, it is the impulse to locomotion; at another, it is the nomadic impulse, or the tendency to run away; at another time, it is the impulse to speech and sociability; and so on. order that the growth of the child shall be most healthful and rapid these impulses must be utilized, each at the acme of its development, for the expanding and controlling of the child's experience along that particular line.

In

In other words, through child psychology we have come to see that in the plastic period the growing individual is dominated by certain rhythmic impulses or attitudes, each with its own period of critical growth, and each demanding a modification both of subjectmatter and method in the educational process. These are cues for the teacher. The value of genetic psychology is that it helps him to interpret the material of instruction from the standpoint of these various attitudes. We must psychologize the curriculum in the sense of adapting the subject-matter and method of teaching to these stages in the child's growth. The logically simple is not necessarily the psychologically simple, and it is the latter alone which is suitable for the undeveloped intelligence.

In these two spheres, therefore, we find the value of psychology; first, in that it helps the teacher better to understand himself; and second, in that this gives him a basis for the true understanding of the mind of the child whom. he is to teach. Not until our teachers come to look upon psychology as a field of culture valuable for its own sake, and not simply as a new kind of pedagogical device or special method, will educational psychology begin to fulfill its true mission.

A newspaper reporter who entered Harvard as a freshman has some impressions somewhat different from the usual. He writes these things:

"Life's experiences have afforded me some marked changes of occupation and environment, though I recall none that present so direct a contrast as my recent shift from journalism into college. A month ago I was straining every nerve to 'beat' the Manhattan evening papers on the testimony in the insurance investigation; today I endeavored to impress upon my memory Caesar's account of the German barbarians.

"I wonder at the matter-of-fact way in which I have accepted this decided change of ideas and ideals, for I am handing in daily themes and listening to lectures on Chaucer's French period in a highly serious mood. In truth, I am more serious than while I chronicled the grewsome details of domestic tragedies. It is only a few weeks ago that nothing less than a murder or a three-alarm fire could have induced me to cross City Hall Park on the run, but today I galloped through the yard at top speed to avoid being late at a lecture from which I was to learn how the child's attitude of wonder has influenced literature.

"I have given up a position in the world of affairs and have become a wellbehaved Harvard freshman who minds his teacher and does as he is told. My boarding place is 'Mem.'-the Harvard abbreviation for Memorial Hall. Those abbreviations, by the way, puzzle the uninitiated, who is likely to require some little time to learn that 'Equon.' is the name of a course in economics, while 'Filbe' refers to the official title of a course in the history of philosophy. The interior of Memorial Hall seems to me very much like an enlarged copy of one of the old European guild halls, although my instructor in English insists that it is more like a railway station. But in my opinion the tall, stainedglass windows and the vaulted ceiling should relieve it from any such odious comparison. The oil portraits on the

wall are of men and women supposedly distinguished for their services to the university and to the world, but of whose history and achievements the average undergraduate is in blissful ignorance.

"Their late arrival for breakfast prevents all but forty or fifty out of the five thousand members of the university from attending morning prayers. The chapel bell tolls its summons at a quarter to nine each morning, the service lasting until nine o'clock. I like to attend, not only to hear the excellent music and for the general good influence of church associations, but because it is such a distinctive feature of college life. One of the pleasures I derive from attendance at chapel is probably shared by no one else. For several years I have been obliged to furnish a newspaper with comprehensive reports of ninety-minute sermons. It is therefore a privilege to listen to a preacher who must conclude his address. within six minutes. When I leave Harvard it will be as an enthusiast on sixminute sermons.

"Attendance at chapel furthermore affords an opportunity, rare enough otherwise, to see President Eliot. He attends regularly, not, as he says, to furnish an example, but because he gets good out of it. good out of it. There is inspiration in a glimpse of his straight, commanding figure as he walks down the aisle toward his pew.

"Morning services are followed immediately by a lecture lasting one hour. The college lecture of my imagination was addressed to a score of much-bored students, by a spectacled old man hesitating over his notes. When Professor Lowell skips up and down the long platform of the new lecture hall, as he talks to the five hundred members of his course in government, a different picture is presented. It requires close application to note down merely the principal points of his exposition. To take him verbatim would demand the best efforts of my shorthand experience. He is very enthusiastic, has a forceful personality and teems with timely illustrative ma

terial. His first lecture in the course, in which he described a session of the English House of Commons, was a masterpiece of realism. That he manages to hold the undivided interest of all his audience throughout his lectures, in spite of serious limitations of time and topic, is a distinct achievement.

The

"Freshman recitations are less interesting, for they are conducted by assistants whose knowledge of the subjects may be fairly complete but whose ability to transmit learning is limited. weekly recitation hour is divided into two periods; in the first we are asked to prepare a paper on some of the topics included in the assigned reading for the week, while the latter part is devoted to a general discussion in which the assistants sometimes display an unpardonable ignorance of the world's progress in the years since the last edition of the textbook was published. The leader of my section in one of the courses, who has a reputation for requiring intelligible answers to unintelligible questions, has sometimes changed them in response to a well-sustained chorus of protest from the benches. The concession is acknowl

edged by a general stamping of feet which signifies approval. Imagine my confusion upon one occasion, during my first week at college, when, after expressing approval with the hands in worldly

fashion, I found a score of students staring at me with ill-concealed amusement.

"The hours between lectures, of which each student has no more than three or four a day, I often spend in one of the many college libraries. I was about to say that these are veritable mines of knowledge, but they are more than that. It would be more accurate to compare them with the treasure vaults of the Bank of England in London, where loads of gold and silver, already minted, refined and coined, are all counted, labeled and done up in convenient packages. When I consider the diligent and faithful labor expended by the scholars of medieval times to get at one one-hundredth of the information that lies here before us, classified and indexed, I am impressed with a deeper sense of obligation to the wise men of the past and to the educational opportunities of the

present. But we are exacting creatures, for there are complaints that in Gore Hall the air is impure, the chairs are uncomfortable and the arrangements generally bad.

"Yet all this matter of lectures and libraries pertains to only one side of university life, the least important side, too, if the studies and athletics is any criterion. The Crimson is a good index to the varied interests of the undergraduates, though not to their sentiments, for the Crimson's comments are stately, jokeless and serene. Its editorials on linebucking are as ponderous as Gibbon's comments on the evolutions of the Roman legions. This clerical seriousness, which it applies in its treatment of any kind of subject, makes the Crimson more or less of a joke among the undergraduates. The Lampoon, Harvard's fortnightly edition of student jokes, calls it the 'Crime's Own,' or the daily edition. of the University Calendar.

"Comments on the daily football prac

tice

occupy one-third of the space on its first page throughout the football season, while the notice of an important lecture by the president of a German university takes up three lines in the column of official notices. Nor is this an unfair indication of the proportionate interest of undergraduates in the two events. However, there are other criterions. Upon entering Harvard each student is asked to fill out two blank forms, in addition to those provided by the university authorities. One is an inquiry from Brooks House-the center of religious activity at the university-as to his religion, the other is a query from the football management in regard to his weight. Filling out the blank on church alliance brings a printed invitation from some Cambridge church to attend its services; an indication of a weight exceeding 160 pounds brings on a series of visits from freshmen and upper classmen, who unite their efforts to convince the new man that it is his duty to come out and be a sacrificial lamb on the altar of that ephemeral deity called college spirit.

"After stating that few freshman football candidates had reported for practice an editorial printed in the Crimson in the