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Signs, from their simplicity, may be immediately contemplated. The conditions, which were obscured by a mass of details, so long as real objects were kept laboriously in view, now stand prominently forth. The mind employs itself with signs simply, it is true; but in so doing, in effect, it operates upon the ideas themselves. In this manner it advances gradually to the formation of notions, which, like the example above, are beyond the limit of real intuition.

To pursue this subject farther, would draw us aside from our main design, which is to introduce the principle, that instruction in language should be founded upon the observation and study of real objects, -- that words should only appear, when the real acquisition of knowledge renders them necessary. This principle is a simple one, but its reason lies deeper than would at first be imagined. It is, that from this very primitive observation, by refinements more or less extended, have sprung all the terms of language. They are the landmarks established by the mind, to note its progress, and assist in directing Its course, as it advances beyond the boundary of real intuition. As ideas without words are a possession of little value; so words without ideas are worse than useless, yet how many words do children acquire by rote, which, because they utter, they are presumed to understand.

A method of instruction, resting strictly upon the principle of intuition, is by no means as easy in practice, as it appears in theory. There is so great a tendency in the human mind to overleap details, especially when they are familiar and simple, that the teacher will often find himself involuntarily leading his pupil, by strides too rapid for his unpractised steps.

But, much more frequently, this principle fails to receive due attention in the school-room, from ignorance or wilful neglect. It is to restore it to its rightful preeminence, and to compel a universal and practical acknowledgement of its paramount importance, that the efforts of modern reformers in education are chiefly exerted.

In applying the principle of intuition to the instruction of the deaf and dumb, we perceive at once the importance, the necessity even, of some system of nomenclature, which shall follow, as nearly as possible, the genealogical succession of ideas; that order, in which each idea naturally suggests its succession, and hence, also, of course, explains it. To say nothing of the clearness, which such an arrangement is adapted to create in the ideas of the learner, the labor of instruction, by means of it, is very materially economized. We have a measure of the pupil's attainments in the number of words which he has acquired; and thus we know where to avoid the repetition of details, which have already been made familiar. The words, which the learner successively adds to his vocabulary, constitute a kind of mechanical power, to aid in extending the circle of his knowledge. It is far otherwise, where words are taught as chance may direct. The same series of particulars must be actually presented to the mind in repeated instances, and without the pauses and points of repose, presented by the successive steps of a judiciously arranged system. The mind is, in consequence, encumbered by its burthen; its ultimate ideas are indistinct and vague; and it can hardly be said to possess the knowledge which it has acquired, since, in too many instances, it will be diffident of the truth of its conceptions. Still, a system of nomenclature, arranged on the principle above suggested, is perhaps an impracticable creation; at least if it is designed to embrace the great body of words, which compose a language. It is an ideal perfection, to which we can only approximate. Particular sciences afford an illustration of the desideratum; but it is perhaps too much to expect that this can ever be attained in that portion of a language, which does not admit of the exactness of mathematical definition.

Systems classify themselves according to the different degrees of importance which they attach, respectively, to the different instruments, which may be made to fulfil the office of speech. These instruments are five in number; viz. design, the language of action, dactylology, alphabetic writing, and the labial alphabet, accompanied by artificial pronunciation. The principle of classification will be more readily comprehended, after a brief examination of each of these particulars, and of the extent to which it can be beneficially employed.

A radical distinction must here be noticed, according to which the instruments, just enumerated, arrange themselves under two heads; to wit, those which more properly represent ideas, and those which represent words merely. To the former description belong design and the language of action; to the latter, writing, dactylology, and the oral and labial alphabets.

The utility of design would, at first view, seem to be confined to the simple interpretation of the nomenclature of visible objects. A little consideration will show, however, that the resources, which it offers to the teacher, are much more extended. Actions, conditions, qualities, relations, are all capable of being depicted; and hence verbs, adjectives and prepositions are within its province.