J. CRAWFORD TROTTER.

The Apostolic age was remarkable for the growth of learned Rabbinical schools, some of the most famous of which were those of the Pharisees. Of these the most eminent were those of Hillel and Schammai. The former upheld Tradition as even superior to the Law; the latter despised Tradition when it clashed with Moses. Between these two the antagonism was irreconcileable. What one permitted the other was sure to prohibit. Both had numerous adherents. The school of Hillel, however, attracted the majority. The most distinguished ornament of that school was Gamaliel, who is supposed to have been the grandson of Hillel its founder, and the son of that Simeon who took the infant Jesus in his arms. He pleaded the cause of St. Peter and the other Apostles. (Acts v.) His learning was so eminent and his character so revered, that he is one

the Jewish doctors have been honoured with the title of Rabboni, the highest distinction conferred upon teachers of the Law. It is a saying of the Talmud, that "since Rabboni Gamaliel died, the glory of the Law has ceased." He was a Pharisee; but anecdotes are told of him which show that he was not trammelled by the narrow bigotry of that sect. He had no antipathy to the Greek learning; he rose above the prejudices of his party; candour and wisdom seem to have been the chief features of his character. St. Luke says that he was "had in reputation among all the people." He was President of the Sanhedrim.

Let us look at the place where, and the mode in which, the instruction was conveyed. The synagogues often consisted of two apartments, one for prayer, preaching and the offices of public worship; the other for the meetings of learned men, for discussions concerning religion and discipline, and for purposes of education. There the teacher was seated on an elevated platform, and the pupils around him on low seats, or on the floor. This posture seems to have

been regarded as a mark of respect to the teachers, according to the maxim of the Jews, "Place thyself at the feet of the wise." Therefore when St. Paul says he was "brought up at the feet of Gamaliel," he refers to this position of the body. So Mary is said to have sat at Jesus' feet and heard His word. Here, then, in this low posture, the future Apostle would sit, "both hearing and asking questions" of that great master under whom he had been placed.

The objects sought in these Rabbinical schools were:

To rouse, develop and strengthen the powers of thought, by mutual instruction, communication, criticism and controversy:

To hear public teachers, counsellors and leaders of the people :

To save from oblivion the sayings and speeches of ancient times, by collecting them in proper order: and To rear from among them

teachers and writers for the public.

The subjects treated of comprised everything that might appear important to the philosophers of those times and of that country, and more especially songs of praise to Jehovah, observations on man and nature, exhortations to morality and virtue, warnings against idolatry, and enmity towards their fellow-citizens and the like. All that pertained to Judaism and the Law was impressed upon them, the Scriptures were daily expounded, and applied to the various relations of life, and a thorough knowledge of them enforced. The memory was cultivated and the mind trained to logical acuteness. The consequences of this training appear in that

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elaborate argumentation and apt illustration which are exhibited in the writings of St. Paul.

The method of conveying instruction was something of this kind: At the meetings of the learned men some passage of the Old Testament was taken as a text; or some topic of discussion started. This was made the subject of commentary; various interpretations were given, aphorisms were propounded, allegories suggested, and the opinions of ancient doctors quoted and discussed. At these discussions the younger students were present to listen or to inquire, for in these schools the pupil was encouraged to catechise the teacher. All were at liberty to express their opinions with the utmost freedom. These free and public discussions tended to promote a high degree of general intelligence among the people; the students were trained in an excellent system of dialectics; they learned to express themselves in a rapid, pithy and forceful style, often with much poetic feeling, and acquired an admirable aquaintance with the words of the ancient Scriptures. The students were subjected to half-yearly examinations, in February and August; the best scholars were promoted, the worst punished by confinement, flogging and expulsion.

We can readily imagine that under such a system of instruction the naturally quick and vigorous faculties of the young student would be stirred into lively exercise, and that he would be trained to carry out in his daily life the principles and practices of the "straitest sect" of the Pharisees,

and that he would be prepared for that strenuous and unsparing defence of the Law and Tradition which marked his conduct until that memorable journey to Da

mascus.

Thus by birth and ancestry; by home influence and more advanced training; by disposition and opportunity; by creed and circumstance; by the hopes and desires of his parents, and by his own aspirations and ambitions; by the

civil, social and religious aspects of the country in which he dwelt, he would be made ready for the parts which he afterwards enacted, first as the defender, and then as the most vigorous assailant of that ancient and much-loved faith which, in the fulness of time now come, was to be superseded by the brighter and more blessed dispensation of the grace of God, as revealed in His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord.

MY FIRST CLASS.

(Concluded from page 249.)

I OFTEN Wonder, in looking back upon the past, that I managed my class as well even as I did. I was so young, and had none of the wisdom which comes with experience. Fortunately my little charge was upon the whole docile, tractable, obedient and affectionate. I could hold out no worse threat than that I should be grieved with them if they were naughty; and the most severe punishment I ever inflicted was to send the offender to the corner next the door, there to stand in solitary misery until she could come and say she was truly sorry.

I think my success was owing in a great measure to my being the first teacher the children had ever known. They had not been scholars in the school before, and knew nothing of the change of rule and discipline consequent upon a change of teachers. I taught them in my own way, and had no former custom and habit to fight against.

Another thing which gave me a strong hold upon them was the intimate knowledge I had of their homes and every-day life. Not only on Sundays,

but frequently during the week I saw them, and listened to their chatter of "mother" and "baby." Any especial occurrence, whether of joy or sorrow, was treasured up to "tell teacher," and I was quite learned in children's games.

I was often amused by the comical little pieces of information brought me on Sunday mornings.

"Teacher! we're going to have plum-pudding for dinner to-day! would be Abby's abrupt announcement, as she rushed into school with eyes brimful of anticipation. Of course I was expected to enter into her delight. A new frock or hat was quite an event in the life of the little possessor, and not only "teacher," but the whole class must look and admire. A child's life is made up of seeming trifles. Little things make this world appear a Paradise, and little things with equal ease destroy the charm and dispel the illusion.

How often do we see the rough hand of indifference, as well as that of unkindness, dash all the glowing colours from the picture which the innocent child-eyes are gazing upon with eager delight! How often does an unnecessary harsh word or even

gesture, chase the sunshine from the happy little face, and call up the heavy tears from wells that ought to be left for God's hand to reach. Bitter grief must come to all; it is so ordained. The little ones will have their share when their time comes, and surely it is not our place to bring clouds where God intended sunshine.

I did not always find teaching easy work. As was to be expected, I made mistakes, and had to reap the consequences. Sometimes I was too indulgent, and advantage was taken of it by the quick-sighted children. Sometimes I drew the rein perhaps a little too tightly, and they grew restive. Little children, such as composed my first class, must be allowed a certain liberty. It is absolute cruelty to endeavour to keep the active little limbs in perfect stillness for nearly an hour, and yet this is often done.

Sometimes I was puzzled how to act: peculiar circumstances called for peculiar action, and I knew not what to do. One of the children, a bright, nice little girl, about four or five years old, gave me much trouble. She was perfectly obedient and very affectionate, but had one great fault-she could not keep her little hands from taking what did not belong to her. The first time I detected her in a theft I could have cried with sorrow and disappointment. She was one of my especial pets, such a dear little thing, and in my eyes the offence was very great. I am not sure that I did not with the eyes of my imagination see in the dim future the heavy gates of a prison opening to receive poor little Trissie.

The worst of it was I could not get her to see the sinfulness of stealing. It was only a packet of sweets from one of the other children that she had taken, and she evidently thought I was making a great fuss about a very little thing.

I took for the subject of the after

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noon's lesson the commandment, "Thou shalt not steal," and endeavoured to make it as plain as possible to the children. All eyes were of course turned upon Trissie at once, as if the lesson concerned her, and no one else. The poor child began to look very uncomfortable and unhappy, and at last the hot tears came rolling slowly down her face. I took no notice of this, but diverted the children's attention from her by telling them the well-known little story of the boy who was kept from stealing by seeing the star shining above him, and by remembering the words, "Thou God seest me."

I made them repeat the two short texts after me till they knew them, and in the interest of the Lesson they forgot Trissie, who was furtively brushing away her tears, and trying to look as if she didn't care a bit.

When school was over I detained her a few minutes; but though she said she was sorry for taking the sweets, I could plainly see that her sorrow was owing to the consequences of the fault, not the fault itself. However, I thought it would be a lesson to her, and little expected, a few Sundays after, to hear the complaint, "Teacher, Trissie has taken my apple," with which Nellie greeted my entrance into school.

"I haven't," exclaimed Trissie, trying to look innocent.

I never allowed eating during school-time: when the children brought apples or sweets with them, they were confiscated till after Lesson - time. Knowing this, Nellie, who had had the little rosy apple given to her on her way to school, had put it in the usual place, the corner of the windowsill. On turning to look at it a few minutes after, she found it was gone; and though no one had seen Trissie touch it, the theft was at once laid to her charge.

"Have you taken the apple, Trissie?" I asked, after hearing the rather confused statements volunteered by the children.

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No, teacher," was the reply.

A general chorus of "O, Trissie! " In vain I talked, persuaded, urged her to confess; she persisted in her denial, and I began to think there was some mistake. Of her own free will she turned out her pocket to show me that the apple was not there, and I was about to tell her to sit down, when Abby cried out, "Teacher, it's down her frock."

The quick flush which rose to the conscious little face told me that this suggestion was correct, and finding further denial useless, Trissie put her hand just inside the top of her frock and took out the apple.

"O, Trissie!" I exclaimed, surprised and grieved, "what am I to do to you?"

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Whip me, teacher," sobbed the little thing, holding out her hand.

"No, I shall not whip you, Trissie. Children, what shall I do to make Trissie remember that it is very, very wrong to take what belongs to other people ?"

"Give her a good whipping, teacher," cried two or three, who were evidently accustomed to that style of punishment. I shook my head. "Make her stand in the corner, teacher." "Send her home, teacher." "Tell the Superintendent. Don't give her any tickets, teacher."

But Alice, my naughty, troublesome little Alice, my black lamb as I sometimes called her, came close up to me. "Tell her not to do it again, and then forgive her, teacher," she whispered.

Trissie gave one quick glance, and then looked down again, while the other children stood round in silence. Well, I thought I would try Alice's plan, but resolved to put it to the vote, being pretty sure of the result.

"Which shall it be?" I asked. "Shall I punish Trissie, or shall I forgive her this time?"

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'Forgive her this time, teacher," was the universal answer; so Trissie was forgiven. I was rather doubtful as to how this plan would answer, and watched the child anxiously for the next few weeks. It was, however, many months before I heard any more complaints of her, and then she confessed almost as soon as she was accused. Poor little Trissie! it was hard work for her to overcome this unhappy propensity, but she did try very hard, and I think succeeded at last.

It is with very mixed feelings I look back upon my first class: feelings of pleasure and pain. So it must ever be in this world; failures intermingled with successes, joys with sorrows. I can see now where I made mistakes, and I can also see that the success I met with was owing to the real, true love I had for the little ones under my care. The very first lesson that a Sunday-school teacher must learn is love. Without this all else will be useless.

RUTH ELLIOTT.

"LIKE JESUS."

"IT is no use trying to be a Christian," said Emma N- to a young companion, 66 my dreadful temper makes it impossible."

"I don't see that, Emma," was the reply; "you think too much about it; you are just quick, but it is over in a minute."

"But it is so unlike Jesus; and you know, Fanny, that to be a Christian I must be like Him."

"Well, Emma," said Fanny, “I am sure there are plenty of Christian people who are cross-grained enough for anything!"