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The Birth of the Flower

In the beginning, God, the great workman,
Fashioned a seed:

Cunningly wrought it from waste-stuff left over
In building the stars;

Then, in the dust and grime of his workshop, He rested and pondered

Then, with a smile, flung the animate atom

Far into space.

As the seed fell through the blue of the heavens Down to the world.

Wind the great gardener, seized it in triumph
And bore it away;

Then, at a sign of the Master, who made it,
He planted the seed

Thus into life sprang the first of the flowers

On earth.

-John Northern Hilliard in the Philistine for September

An "Exceptional" Boy

A. W. M.

CHOOSE Gus as my "exceptional," because he is such a bundle of contradictions, so rough and yet so gentle, so coarse and often so sensitive, so obstinate, but when it pleases him so willing, so lazy, but when interested so wideawake, so lovable but so aggravating. I am almost afraid to undertake the task of unravelling the twisted and tangled skein of his character, for I must confess it will be hard to reconcile all these contradictory features into a human being, even if he be placed among the "exceptionals."

Long before Gus came to me, I knew him, for the fame of him and his family had spread abroad in the district, and I knew what to expect, but alas! my expectations were shattered, and I found what I had not expected, and much of what I had expected, I found not.

As he walked up the aisle to the seat I assigned him, I could not help admiring the tall, straight, strong, healthy, ruddy-faced, bright-eyed boy, who met my rather stern command with a look half defiant, half friendly, and altogether full of curosity, a look which very plainly said, "So you are my new teacher, well, see you don't bother me too much, and we'll get along nicely, but if you attempt to drive me you'd better look out; you know I am growing fast and sometimes I don't feel like working."

As the weeks glided by I began to realize what a strange boy I had to deal with. I soon found he hated to sit still, hated study of all kinds except reading. He was an easy, intelligent reader and very proud of his one accomplishment. His face would fairly beam with pleasure and gratitude if I asked him to read and explain a paragraph that had puzzled the class; the only trouble was he hardly ever knew the place.

But the one time of all, the day when Gus was completely subdued, my humble slave, in fact, was when story " time arrived. His restless hands were clasped, his moving feet crossed, and his whole body at rest the moment he saw me take up the magic book, "The King of the Golden River," and woe to the child who kept me waiting a second for silence. Gus would throw a look like a thunder-cloud at the delinquent for wasting a moment that had suddenly become so precious to him. Then was the time to witness Gus, "clothed and in his right mind;" anything in the shape of a story made Gus a hypocrite in an instant. He would pretend to be studying his lesson, but all the time be listening with wideeyed delight to the stories I told the higher class in connection with their geography, and when I took the class across the Atlantic with Columbus, over the snow covered Alps with Napoleon, through the wilds of darkest Africa with Stanley, over the ice caps with Capt. Peary, or back home with me to my native land of bonnie Scotland, Gus always followed, time, school, tasks all forgotten.

At last came field day. How I dreaded it, dreaded Gus I mean; I was quite sure of all the others if I could only leave Gus behind. We had not gone a block before Gus was leader and I his follower, ready to go where he led, my anxiety gone. He knew the shortest cuts, the highest hill, the prettiest leaves, where the frogs croaked the loudest, and the musk rats built their houses, and the ground birds laid their eggs. He could run faster, climb higher and whistle louder than all. His torn cap held more acorns and monkey nuts and berries and bits of moss than any other. He picked up the dead bird and made its grave under an oak tree. He asked to carry my bag, fetched me a drink, gave me his hand up hill to a shady seat. His cheeks were reddest, his eyes brightest, his laugh the loudest of all.

After that day I hardly wondered that Gus was restless and idle in school. With the broad prairie for his heritage, the birds and beasts for his friends, was it to be wondered that Nature's child would not enjoy any but Nature's book? Our fall general lessons awoke an interest in Gus, and frogs, lizards and turtles were plentiful in my room. While at work in the early morning I would hear the patter of bare feet and turn round to see Gus standing cap and tin pail in hand, guilty but confident, his eyes shining with an interest seldom seen in school hours, saying, "I've brought you a lizard, I found him under a stone in the swamp, he is a dandy." He had broken a rule in coming in before the bell rang, and he knew it, but I couldn't scold him, could you?

He always asked me if he might take care of the animals over Sunday. Once I asked him if he had let the lizards go that we had finished with. Yes, he had put them under his wood pile to keep them warm, after my lessons on coldblooded animals !

One day he looked out and saw the air thick with large feathery flakes of snow, he pulled my dress and said, "Looks like white feathers comin' down, don't it?"

He is one of many children, so his home life is not an enviable one. Christmas brought no joys for him but vacation. He wrote his Christmas letter with the others, but what a pitiful little missive it was, "I hope you will have a merry Xmas, even if I don't," that was all.

He knew my fondness for "pieces," so he came one afternoon with a paper in his red cold hands, and pointing to a poem said, "That's an awful nice piece, its my sister's paper but you can have it." I wondered how much of the "Song to Mary" he had understood. Poor Gus! was it your way of showing me you were sorry you vexed me with your idleness all the morning?

What will be the future of my "exceptional" boy? He has left me and gone I know not where. "An' forward tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear.”

Little Ruth Endicott

(The following has been arranged as a story by Mara L Pratt from the poem "Beads for a Name," by Margaret B. Sangster, in Little Knights and Ladies, for teachers who may not have this book at command-Ed.)

"Little Ruth Endicott, tripping and airy,
Sweet as a snow-drop and wee as a fairy,
Found it hard work to st still as a mouse,
Through three long hours in the Lord's house,
Where all the children went gravely, you know,
This time, two hundred Thanksgivings ago."

- Margaret Sangster in Little Knights and Ladies

F you had lived two hundred years ago, when Ruth Endicott was a little girl, I am sure you would have gone to church every Thanksgiving day that came; and it may be you would have been "naughty" just as they tell us,

was

"Little Ruth Endicott two hundred Thanksgivings ago."

For in those days the sermons were very long-three hours at the very least, - and all through that time the children were supposed to sit as quiet as mice.

Poor little Ruth! it was very tiresome, she thought. She didn't understand what the man in the high pulpit was saying, the high benches with straight backs were very hard, and there was no music. Three times the tithing man had turned the hourglass-for there were no clocks to tell the time-- and little Ruth began to fidget.

Little Ruth

"Be still, child," said Mamma Endicott sternly; and for three whole minutes little Ruth was still. Then the fidgets began again.

Grandma Endicott gave the child the spray of fennel that it was the fashion for old ladies to carry with them to church. It was very sweet smelling; but Ruth had seen the fennel growing all her life, so why should she be aroused by that?

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The parson stopped in his "sixteenthly" and looked down upon the child in the Endicott pew. Strange," thought he, "that children should act so. An Endicott, too!" The tithing man came, and shook his bewiggled head at Ruth. "If she weren't an Endicott," thought he, "I should tap her on the head with my tithing rod."

Poor Mamma Endicott and Grandma Endicott, how ashamed they were! To think of an Endicott being looked at by the tithing man! Indeed, they were as glad as Ruth when the sermon was over; for in all the meeting house there had not been one child so fidgety as had Ruth Endicott been that day, two hundred Thanksgivings ago.

Now, Ruth's father was a judge. Besides that, he was the governor of the colony. He was a stern, proud man, and many a child had he frowned upon for "acting" in church. He made laws for the people, and was often very severe with any who dared disobey them. He was a great man in the colony, and was looked up to by the people. So you see why it was the parson had said "Strange that an Endicott should act so!" and why the tithing man had said, "If she weren't an Endicott."

You can, see too, how mortifying it must all have been to Mamma and Grandma Endicott. Alas, that the whole family should be disgraced by little Ruth!

"My child," said the judge, when he had heard what had happened, "come here to me."

Ruth came. She was rather afraid when her father looked like that; but this time she was so very sleepy. The judge took her upon his knee. "I am told" he said sternly, "that you have been laughing and playing and fidgeting in church."

"Yes, sir," said Ruth, trying to keep her eyes open. "Do you not know you are an Endicott," the judge went on; "and that you must have courtesy, and respect for public services, and in all things do that which shall win man's approbation?"

But alas, for Governor Endicott's fine sounding words. Little Ruth's golden head nodded; the blue eyes closed, and Ruth fell back upon her papa's satin waistcoat, sound asleep.

With Ruth in his arms still, he arose and opened a door in the big old secretary. There was a little drawer in the secretary and in the drawer was a string of golden beads.

Such beautiful beads as they were; Gov. Endicott had brought them with him all the way from England, the county across the water where he had lived when he was a little child himself. They were round and shining, and on each one of them, were carved flowers and leaves and berries very tiny to be sure, but very beautiful.

"Ruth," said he, when by and by the little girl awoke, "I've been thinking while you've been asleep. You see these beads of gold. Well, if you will be very good and will sit very still in church for three Sundays, behaving 'like a small primrose, stately and good,' behaving indeed, as an Endicott should,' then these beads shall be yours to keep and to wear for your own."

Ruth promised; it seemed very easy to promise, sitting there on her father's knee with the beautiful beads in her hands, and away she flew to show them to her mamma and grandma.

All day long she wore them aroud her little white neck, and when the next Sunday came, she went quite demurely to church and sat by her father's side.

"grew up as sweet,
As a flower that blooms on the edge of the wheat,
Fame of her beauty was told far and near,
Fame of her kindness, too, and her good deeds,
Came down the century with her gold beads."

By and by she had little daughters of her own as sweet and beautiful as she herself had been when she fell asleep in her father's arms that "day two hundred Thanksgivings ago."

And I have been told, tho' I am not sure, that in that very same town, there is now another little Ruth Endicott who has the "same snow drop face, the same rich, golden hair, yes- and the same golden beads, carved so crisply with flowers and leaves."

And if you should ask this little maiden to tell you about the beads, she would say, "These belonged to my grandmother, ever so great,"

"Once a great lady, who wore them in state,
But who was shockingly naughty, I fear,
Just on the eve of her own seventh year,

When, little darling, she fidgeted so

In church-time, two hundred Thanksgivings ago."

CHARLES B. SCOTT State Normal School Oswego N. Y.
Telling the Truth

N our nature work, we have chosen the point of view from which our boys and girls may get the broadest outlook and the clearest uplook and may catch the spirit in which nature should be approached.

We have discussed and emphasized the necessity of interest as a first essential in the development of our child.

We have agreed that he must see for himself, with his own eyes, before he can tell, that he must receive clear, definite impression before we can expect from him the best expression.

We dwelt last month on the importance of having our child tell for himself what he had seen, express in his own way, that with which he had been impressed, and considered a few of the methods of developing this individuality in expression.

If our boys and girls are to get the best education, they must not merely see and tell and think for themselves, but must learn to see and tell the truth; they must learn to investigate carefully and report truthfully, that is, clearly and exactly, the result of their own investigations — the truth, the whole truth, as far as they see it, and nothing but the truth.

No less important than the cultivation of self-reliance and individuality is the formation of habits of exactness or exact truthfulness, in observation, expression, and thought. How few observe carefully what they see or hear! What a different world this would be, if all habitually took the pains to discover the truth and were careful to tell the truth!

The cultivation of the habit of careful personal investigation and exact clear statement has long been recognized as one of the most valuable results of the scientific studies in higher institutions. How much better and easier to form habits of truth-seeing and truth-telling during the earlier years of a child's life!

Cannot we, in our nature work, even in the kindergarten, lead our children to observe as carefully and express as exactly as they are capable of doing? More can be done in this kind of training in nature study than in any other line of work, simply because nature study gives better opportunity for personal observation or investigation. It is much more natural and much easier to tell exactly and clearly that which has come to us through our senses, than that which we have received from or through others.

For this training in seeing and telling the truth, the first essential is plenty of good material, so that each child can see for himself and can correct for himself, by reference to the material before him, any errors he has made in observation or statement.

With the material, an apple, for instance, in his hand, our pupil says, "My apple is round like a ball." True, but not all the truth. At your question, "Is it exactly round like a ball?" even the little fellow in the first grade will look again and may add, "It has a hole in one end." Another look will bring out, "It has two holes, one at each end," much nearer the truth.

If you are satisfied with the first answer, as describing the form of the apple, (the term "round" is very indefinite and inexact, although much used) you accept a half-truth, a species of untruth, and allow or encourage untruthfulness.

If you correct the answer yourself, you miss an opportunity to help your pupils to be more truthful. It will often add much to the interest of the lesson and sharpen the pupils' powers, if you encourage members of the class to watch for and correct statements which are not true or not clear.

Encourage in every way exact statements. Have the children count and measure. Discourage guessing and indefinite forms of statement, such as "about" and I think." Any absolute misstatements should, of course, never pass unnoticed.

It must be remembered that language is a very difficult and inexact way of expressing many ideas, such as those of form, size and relative position. Drawing, painting and

modelling are often much more natural, simple and exact forms of expressing truth than language. Any child can tell the truth about the form of a seed or fruit much better with clay than in words.

If the child cannot tell the truth in words, let him show it with his fingers, or draw it or model it, forms of expression which, to the child, may mean much more than words.

Drawing is particularly helpful in insuring careful observation and exact expression. Much closer observation is necessary to enable us to draw an object than to describe it. At the same time drawing expresses ideas of form much more exactly than they can possibly be described in words. Furthermore, even the youngest child can recognize errors in drawing, when he cannot see wherein his word picture is wrong. Hence children can correct their own drawings.

If the pupils draw on the blackboard (and young children will draw much better at the board, with the large, free motions there possible, than in the cramped position of the hand which the child assumes in drawing on slate or paper) it will be found very helpful to have the children themselves select the best drawings and tell why they are best. Even first grade children soon develop considerable critical power and almost always select the best, that is, the most truthful drawing.

As teachers, we may attach so much importance to sympathy and interest and an appreciation of the lessons and beauties of nature, that we neglect the careful individual work which is of the greatest value in the development of the powers of our pupils. On the other hand, we may emphasize so strongly exactness in detail as to deaden the interest and dull the eyes to beauty.

Cannot we keep in view both these aims, giving more and reasoning, as our pupils are older. more prominence to exact observation, expression and

We shall then find our nature study most effectively preparing for and aiding in the study of arithmetic and developing careful, truthful men and women.

Work for November

Fruits and Vegetables

Begin with a most familiar fruit or grain or nut, such as the apple, pear, pumpkin, wheat, corn, or chestnut. Base as much as possible on observation.

Study first its relation to its natural environment, that is, occurence, time of ripening, character of plant, position and attachment to plant. Try to have in the school-room the whole plant of corn, oats or wheat. The fruit is then not an isolated thing to the children, but a part of a whole.

Fix its form by drawing or modelling the fruit. Call the attention of the older pupils to the remains of the calyx at the eye end of fleshy fruits. Dwell on the beauiy of form and color.

Study protecting parts and their arrangement, the skin, and in grains and nuts, the additional parts, enclosing the fruit. (When there is no separate external protecting parts, the flesh of the fruit itself protects the seeds, as in apple and pear and orange.) A few chestnut or horse-chestnut burrs, some heads of wheat or other grains, or ears of corn with the husks will be very helpful. How beautifully Mother Nature has protected them, with over-coats and coats, often fur-trimmed and silk-lined ! Notice in the nuts how the protecting parts open, when no longer needed. Why are they so well protected? We shall see. Study in the fleshy fruits- the interior. Cut the apple or pear or orange transversely, so as to show position and arrangement of the seeds. Have children make drawings, showing skin, fleshy parts and seeds. Why are the seeds in the center? Are they in any order? Notice the little pockets in which they are placed.

Now, why have the fruits been so carefully protected? With such a basis of personal observation, we can, through the fruit, lead our pupils to broader and higher thoughts. Study the fruit in its relations;

First As the final result of the session's work of the plant. From the fruit look back to the work, that roots, stems, leaves and flowers have done for its formation, to the way in which soil and air and rain and sun have all cooperated.

Third As a preparation for the future. Look forward with the children. Study the fruit as a protection to the seeds. How is it fitted to protect? Also as a means of scattering the seeds, its bright colored and pleasant tasting parts attracting birds and other animals, which scatter the seeds. The little folks can plant some of the seeds. The older ones can break open the seeds and study the little plant so snugly wrapped within.

Fourth In its relations to the Creator, the Thanksgiving thought. The plant, the soil, rain, air and sun, and man have worked together with God.

Suggestions for fruit study will also be found in PRIMARY EDUCATION for November, 1894.

Study of Higher Animals

Appealing to the Imagination

There are two false methods of appealing to the imagination which we may call analysis and memory. The study of the squirrel furnishes an illustration. The teacher may bring a dead specimen and have the children analyze its particular characteristics, as the long fur, bushy tail, whiskers, number of teeth, etc,; or she may treat the squirrel as a poetic whole, letting the child identify himself with the squirrel and spend his time running about on the ground and picking up nuts. Both are extremes of the same false principle. The child sees no need or significance in dead facts as such. The circuit of activity of the real squirrel has not been presented to him. Nor is the other extreme of vague generalization better. The reason for the particulars is that they are a part of the real life, and necessary to it, and they should be studied solely with regard to function. There is no limit to analysis provided that it comes as the filling out of a circuit of activities already presented. Both extremes are destructive to imagination.

Reality is the only complete coördination. Memorizing when an appeal which suggests simply the object, and not

Fish- minnows or gold-fish turtles and any common mammals or hair covered animals are particularly good for study.

Gold-fish stand school-room conditions very well. Small horn-pouts" or "bull-heads are very easily kept; they can searcely be killed by neglect. Small sun-fish and perch are usually very hardy. In general, small fish caught at this season, when they are sluggish, will withstand school-room conditions longer than those taken during the summer.

Keep in a shady, cool place, not in direct sunlight, not near a stove or other source of heat. It is best to keep in pail or tub or other large vessel at night. For observations during school hours they can be kept in glass cans or large bottles. Change water daily, at least. If the water is dashed back and forth or thrown upward with the hand frequently, it receives the oxygen needed by the fish. Change or aerate the water frequently at first. Gradually the fish accommodate themselves to the changed conditions and do not need so much care.

For mammals a pet cat will do well. Perhaps a squirrel in a cage, or a rabbit, or white rats or mice, or even ordinary mice can be obtained. The older children can study the dog or cow or horse.

Primary children will, of course, study only living mammals.

Study with the children :

First The name of the animal. Is there anything significant about the name, anything which will connect the name with some characterstic of the animal? The names squirrel (from two Greek words, meaning shade and tail), horn-pout, gold-fish, all mean something.

Second Relations to its natural environment. All about its home and neighbors.

Third Life and habits and use or functions of parts, its moving (means and process), feeding and food, breathing, senses and intelligence.

Fourth Structure of the animal, first of the whole and then the parts. Enough of structure to show how parts are fitted for their work, and enough with older primary children to make the animal a type.

Fifth Life history. Development from the egg, in the fish. Growth from babyhood in case of mammals, bringing out the ways in which the animal is protected, the care of the mother, and the gradual preparation for life.

Sixth Relation to other snimals. Making the animal studied a type for comparison with other animals, similar and dissimilar, and for a little classification.

Our space permits only a very general outline. For more detailed suggestions for the study of fishes and mammals. see articles, by Mr. A. C. Boyden, on "How Animals Live," in PRIMARY EDUCATION for November and December, 1894.

normal appeal to the imagination. Every necessity of an appeal to the memory or observation as such makes a break. Memory will take care of itself if the appeal is made to the interpretative faculty. We do not have to remember what we can do, as in walking, the hardest of all that a child has to learn. After a time it becomes a matter of his own activity, and memory takes care of itself, just because imagination is the seeing of a whole circuit of activities in a particular activity—If we have one end of a thing the other will come. Any other process arrests imagination. throws analysis into isolation, and turns memory into memorizing. Analysis is always a part of the whole; memory is a reproduction when needed. You cannot deal with a complete circuit of activities unless you give activities that are worth while in themselves. We go on the principle that one thing is as good as another if it only occupies the child, that is, if it keeps him out of our way.—John L. Dewey

It

"The Birds."--Ex.