cocious emotion is an unnatural state, produced by an unnatural and therefore unhealthy development of the brain. Consider for a moment what the seat of the emotions—the brain—is. Like all the other organs of the body, the brain grows from a few simple cells, and reaches its fullness and complexity as the organ of mind after passing through numerous simpler conditions. Like the other portions of the wonderful machine in which each of us lives, moves, and has being, the brain is subject to the all-embracing law of animal existence, which declares the development of the individual to be an epitome of the development of his race. By way of illustration, it is well to note the well-established and now familiar fact that man in his prenatal life goes through several stages, in which he may be successively described as a moner, an ascidian, a fish, a reptile, and a mammal. The entire series of forms through which he passes is so varied that a description of his embryonic existence is almost an epitome of the animal kingdom. And after the appearance in the world of the infant poet or sculptor, he bears in his countenance the marks of his descent from savage ancestors, whose low and ugly forehead, flat nose, and cavernous nostrils are reproduced in his infantile lineaments.
The brain, being merely one of the bodily organs, shares in the growth of the whole organism, and must consequently be weak and undeveloped in its early stages. It becomes stronger only by slow degrees, and in the healthy child it is, as we should expect when we consider his ancestry, the mind of a savage. The civilized child, like the adult savage, has no abstract ideas, and his words number only a few hundreds. One of the writers quoted by Lubbock, in speaking of the intellects of savages, says, "A short conversation wearies them, particularly if questions are asked that require efforts of thought or memory." Such a description, as every teacher knows, is most applicable to our own children, and illustrates how closely their mental state approaches that of the savage. An extremely close observer, Mr. Francis Galton, in reference to some of the lower tribes of Africans, makes the striking remark that "the motives of an adult barbarian are very similar to those of a civilized child."
These facts being granted, it is most instructive to notice how our every-day experience of children's ways points to analogies to the emotions of savages. How complete and how savage is that disregard for filth against which the careful housewife has daily to struggle to accomplish the "shining morning face" she sends away to school! With what a barbarous gluttony does the boy gorge himself with cake, like the Eskimo who forced his wife to stuff him with blubber until he fell down unconscious!
Turn now from these unpleasant traits to that of cruelty, with which we began this discussion. Cruelty seems to be a fundamental fact in the nature of children; but, when we recall the course and the law of man's development, we find nothing depressing in the existence of this savage
