The next day my wife and I paid our promised visit to the institution of the Abbotts at Mount Vernon. In its government there are neither rewards nor punishments; but each pupil, at the close of the day, has to present a brief report of her own conduct. Her good deeds and her bad deeds must be alike proclaimed— proclaimed by herself,—and that in the presence of her fellow-pupils who were witnesses of the conduct to which she refers. This compels her to be faithful. If she tries to conceal what was faulty, she is surrounded by those who will detect that concealment: if she ostentatiously parades her own excellences, she knows she will sink in the estimation of her friends. The encouragement of self-respect, and of a regard for that which is good for its own sake, are the great principles of government in this establishment.

Mr. Abbott's plan of teaching a language is, not at first to weary the pupils with the dry rules of grammar, but to store their memories with words. He read a word or a short sentence in French, for instance, and asked the pupils to translate it into English. Then, with closed books, he would give them the English in like manner to be turned into French. I have since adopted the plan with Latin pupils with pleasure and success.