A Flag Exercise.

(For two boys and two girls, carrying flags and dressed according to their color. Red may be a boy with a red sash, pointing to the red stripes in his flag as he recites. White a little girl dressed in white pointing to white stripes, Blue another little girl in blue pointing to the stars on her flag. Tricolor a boy, with Red, White and blue sash, waving the whole flag as he recites. At the close they group their flags as high as they can reach, and recite the last verse, while the whole school join in concert. As they stand thus the entire school sing "Hurrah for the Red, White and Blue," with a will. A march might follow this.)

Selected.

COLUMBIA. A trained dress made in imitation of the American flag, the skirt made of the stripes, and the waist of the blue ground work and white stars; a blue liberty cap on the head sprinkled with smaller stars; hair flowing.

NINETEENTH CENTURY.-A costume of newspapers; if heavy papers are used there will be no difficulty in fashioning them into a plain suit; a paper hat or cap of any convenient shape may be worn; he should carry an immense wooden pen, quite as tall as himself.

(Enter Columbia (R.), Nineteenth Century (L.), Meet

Columbia.

(C.)

Good morning, Mr. Nineteenth Century,

I am very glad that we have met, for there is something that I want to say to you.

Nineteenth Century (bows low, and then stands resting his pen handle on the floor.) And I also am very happy to meet you, Mrs. Columbia, and shall be glad to listen to whatever you may have to say to me.

Mrs. C. (angrily stamping foot.) Well, then sir

N. Century (bowing low and very sweetly.) But, first, Mrs. Columbia, I hope you will allow me to say that you are looking unusually well this morning.

Mrs. C. (sighing.) O, I am growing old.

N. Century (bowing low again and smiling.) But then, you see, age improves you; indeed, you seem to grow younger with every birthday.

Mrs. C. (frowning at him.) That reminds me- it is of birthdays that I want to talk.

N. Century. Of your birthday?

Mrs. C. (crossly.) No, indeed. But whose birthday is this, the 22nd of February?

N. Century (laughing.) Ho! ho! Mrs. Columbia, do you think that's much of a question? Mrs. C. (impatiently.)

birthday is it?

Well, answer it then whose

N. Century (laughing again.) Why, Washington's, of

course.

Mrs. C. (sarcastially.) So you do know, it seems. N. Century (surprised.) Why shouldn't I? Any school boy or girl could tell you the same.

Mrs. C. (going up to him and shaking her head at him.) Well, they do say, Mr. Nineteenth Century, that you don't believe in keeping this great day.

N. Century (striding about and striking the floor with the end of his pen.) Why, what an outrageous slander !

*From Little People's Dialogues, by Clara J. Denton, (Penn Pub. Co.)

Mrs. C. (advancing to him again.) And they say you are trying to do away with the custom.

N. Century (striding about as before.) Worse and worse, what next will they say of me, I wonder?

Mrs. C. (again advancing.) They say you call it "old fogyism" to celebrate it.

O. Century (striking the floor violently.) 0, 0, 0. Mrs. C. And that you think Washington was no greater than many other men. He just happened to do what he did. N. Century (angrily.) Then why don't some of those who talk that way, happen into some great deeds now and then?

Mrs. C. (advancing to him eagerly and smiling.) Then there isn't a word of their stories true?

N. Century (indignantly.) True? No indeed. I tell you, Mrs. Columbia, I believe I'll give my slanderers a good drubbing with this. (Flourishes the pen.)

Mrs. C. (eagerly.) I wish you would. You know, Mr. Nineteenth Century, Washington is one of my favorite children.

N. Century. Of course, of course, and now, Mrs. Columbia, to show the world just how we feel about this matter we'll celebrate this day with all the display in our power. Mrs. C. That suits me exactly, so come.

(Exeunt, Mrs. Columbia reading, Music plays a national air.)

Recitation.

(For a small boy.)

I think I'll be like Washington,
As dignified and wise;
Folks always say a boy can be
A great man if he tries.

And then, perhaps, when I am old,
People will celebrate

The birthday of John Henry Jones, And I shall live in state.

John Henry Jones is me, you know Oh, 'twill be jolly fun

To have my birthday set apart

Like that of Washington.- Sel.

Washington's Christmas Party.

AIR; "Yankee Doodle."

Come, all who love a merry tale
With joke both true and hearty,
We'll tell you how George Washington
Once made a Christmas party.
Across the Delaware quite plain
The British flag was vaunted,
His troops ill-clad, the weather bad
And yet he was undaunted.

"Come boys," he said; "we'll go to-night Across the raging river;

The troops will be at Christmas sports
And will suspect it never.
The Hessians all will keep this night

With games and feasting hearty,
We'll spoil their fun with sword and gun,
And take their Christmas party."

And so they row across the stream

Though storms and ice pursue them,
The fishermen from Marblehead
Knew just how to go through them.
Upon the farther shore they form
And then surround the city,
The Hessians all after their ball
Were sleeping, what a pity.

And when at last at call, to arms!
They tried to make a stand, sir,
They soon took fright and grounded arms

Washington's Birthday.

Another Washington's Birthday, and what shall we do with it?"

Does any primary teacher ask this?

Let us remember that it is "the old story" with us and not with the children. And even if it were children like old stories. "Tell it again," is heard wherever children are known.

Do not give George Washington to the children in one talk. Let this be the month when we specially teach patriotism, and let the children feel this theme in their general talks, their stories, and in their daily work. It is not too early to begin two weeks before the "twenty-second," to prepare the little ones for the occasion. Washington was a baby, a little boy, and played games and learned to read just as they are doing. Let them live his early life with him, grow up with him, feel the joy of the first "hatchet," and ride the first colt. Don't treat him as a piece of statuary, but as the great-hearted, truthful boy, with a high sense of honor. Then as an army general and a president, don't make him coldly inaccessible with a supreme disregard for the pleasures of life. Washington was nothing of the kind. He appreciated luxuries, enjoyed the "minuet" in lace and ruffles, and was a human man with a big human heart, ready to serve his country first of all and at a sacrifice of all, if need be. Cold-blooded statuesque heroes have been given the children far too long.

Tell the children that since the last celebration of Washington's birthday a monument has been erected to the memory of George Washington's mother at Fredericksburg, Virginia, and why Virginia was selected for it. Tell them what a great day it was and that the most distinguished people left their homes to be present at the occasion.

Tell them in your own way (a better way than anybody can give you) how much George Washington loved his mother, and what a grand woman she was. It will be an unmatched opportunity to teach obedience and reverence to parents without sermonizing over it or attempting to make it too individual. Tact in all these things is indispensible if the hearts of children are to be reached. Human nature doesn't enjoy or profit by too much individual application. But the little ones can be made to reverence Washington all the more because of his obedience and selfsacrifice for his mother. Tell them of his surrender of his plan to go to sea after he was all ready to start, because of his mother's heartache over it. And he used to say, "All that I am I owe to my mother."

"The Children of Evergreen Hill," is a story written expressly for the children. There is nothing in it they cannot perfectly understand and they will instantly recognize its touch of sympathy with child-life and come to love its illustrations, while the lesson of the story will drop like good seed in the fertile soil of baby hearts. It is to be hoped that this paper will be carried to the school-rooms, and the stories read by every child who has earned a little leisure by good prompt work.

The Three L's.

It is also a good thing to teach the children to remember this month as the birthday of three other illustrious men, Lowell, Lincoln and Longfellow. Associate these names with the "three L's."

Daily Programs.

A few good programs for the two lower grades in primary schools, that have been tried and proven, would be gladly received and published for the suggestive help they may contain for teachers in general. Also something in this line from teachers in country schools would be acceptable. The teacher of a dozen different grades in one room is compelled to economize time to a degree that would make her experience a benefit to the teachers of only one or two grades in village and city schools.

Magazines for Children.

Our Little Ones and the Nursery, issued by the Russell Publishing Co., and Little Men and Women, by the Alpha Co. (both of Boston) are charming publications, not only for children, but for the teachers of little children. No magazines that enter the editorial rooms are read more promptly or with more profit and pleasure than are the juvenile periodicals. They have the true Fountain-of-Youth power to make us young again in heart and spirit, and to be young again is to be in sympathy with children and child-life the most essential requisite in the preparation for teaching.

Spring Work.

In March PRIMARY EDUCATION will be found the beginning of the spring work in Science and Nature. Mr. Scott will treat of Plant life and Mr. Boyden of Animals. Besides these, a new series will be opened upon Birds, by Miss Hodskins of Springfield, Mass. This series will be written for the primary teachers, and will not be talks to children about birds. It is one thing, and a good thing, to interest the children in bird life and to cultivate the aesthetic sense in the observation of birds. But it is another and far more difficult thing to take up the subject scientifically and show teachers, in a concise way, how and what to do in beginning the study of birds in the early spring-time. The time has come when this kind of teaching of birds must be done as methodically as the instruction in plants. The children must be roused to a degree of interest where they are watching for the return of every bird as interestedly and affectionately as they would watch for the return of a friend. from a journey. Miss Hodskins is not only a bird enthusiast, but a bird student, who does not count the time lost that is spent in patient watching and observation of their nature and habits. Besides this, she is a teacher of little children, knows all about them, and is in full sympathy with the everyday life of the teacher and the difficulties they have to overcome in taking up this subject for school study.

Knowing the importance of blackboard drawing in the pursuance of this subject, and that many teachers will never dare undertake to reproduce the finished picture of a bird, arrangement has been made to give us simple bird outlines

so simple that any teacher can place them upon the blackboard for the children to study and to copy. This will make delightful seat work, and be a great help in impressing the different bird forms upon the memory. It is to be regretted that color cannot be brought in as an aid to the teaching of this subject - but the time has not yet come.

People like to say such things as that of me, and I wonder why of me more than many another month I might name. There's March as fractious and ill-tempered as a month can be, I am sure; still people always have a good word for March.

But of me they say I am dark and cold and slushy. Now this may be; but I should like to know if I do not for a whole half hour and more, hold on to the daylight that January let go. Still everybody seems to love January. And as to being cold, why, all anyone has to do is to compare my average temperature with that of January to find that I am by no means as cold as she is.

Then as to slush - pray, who is it but this same January that heaps the snow upon me, and then runs away with the command that I get it out of the way before old March comes in.

And that is not all. Nearly every year I cut a whole day out of my calendar that I may hurry along the beautiful spring that all are so anxious to greet, but never a word of gratitude do I hear.

Then there is my 14th day, that I devote to the good old St. Valentine. Everybody seems happy on that day; how the little Cupids fly about, and what pretty little valentines I make for the children, both big and little.

Then as if that weren't enough, there is the birthday of Washington, Lincoln, Longfellow, Lowell, and many another great man I might mention. Any one of these alone, it seems to me, is glory enough for one month. Now do you think, little boys, little girls, that it is quite fair to say not one good word for this month of February?

Then he called with all his might to the other buds on the branch, and told them to make haste and get ready for spring.

"But where are the bluebirds?" they said. "Who ever heard of a spring without bluebirds? We don't believe a word of it." And they turned over and went to sleep again. The next day was still warmer, and the restless little bud could bear it no longer. He called his brothers so loudly that sleeping was out of the question, and they said if spring was really come they would get ready for her.

So these seven foolish little buds, led by the foolish little bud that was so sure about it, loosened their warm brown coats, and started out into the world in their thin green dresses.

And the next morning there was a snow-storm!

The Little Hunter.

Bertie had been given a real shot gun for a birthday present. "A dangerous gift, I am afraid," his mother had said. "Safe enough in the youngster's hands, I guess," his father had answered laughingly.

This last remark, Bertie someway felt was a reflection upon his skill in handling a gun; so he bristled a little, shouldered his gun, and marched off up the road to the wood lot. The trees were full of happy birds, hopping and twittering; for it was spring time, and they were busy building their summer homes.

Bertie placed his gun, looked very fierce and determined, and took aim. To his amazement, down came the bird with a cry of pain. Poor Bertie! a moment before, he had felt like a mighty hunter; he felt now very much like a tiny little boy who would like to climb up into his own dear mamma's lap and sob his grief all out to her alone.

He never meant to hurt a little bird! Never, never, never; and the child sprang into the woods, found the little bruised creature, wiped the blood away with his own handkerchief, and by and by when the bird seemed stronger, set it up on bough, and watched it flutter up into the tree top again.

Years after when Bertie had grown to be a man, he told the story of his first and only attempt at hunting, to a dear little woman who by and by was going to make a home for him and be his wife. And as he told it a soft light came into her eyes, and she said, " My dear, brave Bert!" Can you tell why, to her, he seemed brave? And was he brave?

Mount Vernon.

Do you know what these words mean, children, when you see or hear them? It is the name of a beautiful home on the bank of Potomac river, where George Washington once lived. You have been hearing a great deal about him this month and you will always like to see pictures of him, and of this handsome home where he lived and died. He loved this home very much and the mothers of this great country we live in, have bought the place to keep it sacred to the memory of Washington. They keep its rooms looking just as they did when he lived there, and it is constantly visited by people from all parts of the world. They carried some of its furniture to the "World's Fair" for the people to see. A teacher sketched this candlestick while she stood looking at it at the Fair. It was once owned by George Washington.

"Do you think I could take care of great broad leaves in the winter? No, indeed! Look at the poor, faded, torn oak leaves. The wind laughs at them, and likes to tear them to pieces, while my brave little needles can take care of themselves, no matter how it storms. And as for beauty! Look through my branches to the blue sky, or watch them when the snow clings to them, and tell me if I haven't the prettiest leaves in the world!"

And Ruth changed her mind, and decided that the pine needles were very good leaves, after all.