steady intellectual and moral
progress, as that of teaching. There are two reasons for this:

First, there is time for it. With an ordinary degree of health and
strength, the mind can be vigorously employed at least ten hours a day.
As much as this is required of students in many literary institutions.
In fact, ten hours to study, seven to sleep, and seven to food,
exercise, and recreation, is perhaps as good an arrangement as can be
made; at any rate, very few persons will suppose that such a plan allows
too little under the latter head. Now six hours is as much as is
expected of a teacher under ordinary circumstances, and it is as much as
ought ever to be bestowed; for, though he may labor four hours out of
school in some new field, his health and spirits will soon sink under
the burden, if, after his weary labors during the day in school, he
gives up his evenings to the same perplexities and cares. And it is not
necessary. No one who knows any thing of the nature of the human mind,
and who will reflect a moment on the subject, can doubt that a man can
make a better school by expending six hours labor upon it with alacrity
and ardor, than he can by driving himself on to ten. Every teacher,
therefore, who is commencing his work, should begin with the firm
determination of devoting only six hours daily to the pursuit. Make as
good a school, and accomplish as much for it as you can in six hours,
and let the rest go. When you come from your school-room at night, leave
all your perplexities and cares behind you. No matter what unfinished
business or unsettled difficulties remain, dismiss them till another sun
shall rise, and the hour of duty for another day shall come. Carry no
school-work home with you, and do not even talk of your school-work at
home. You will then get refreshment and rest. Your mind, during the
evening, will be in a different world from that in which you have moved
during the day. At first this will be difficult. It will be hard for
you, unless your mind is uncommonly well disciplined, to dismiss all
your cares; and you will think, each evening, that some peculiar
emergency demands your attention _just at that time,_ and that as soon
as you have passed the crisis you will confine yourself to what you
admit are generally reasonable limits; but if you once allow school,
with its perplexities and cares, to get possession of the rest of the
day, it will keep possession. It will intrude itself into all your