7 28 Rainy Day Crafts CECELIA HENRY String Ball Material: Moderately stiff cardboard of light color, a punch, piece of pretty colored cord, and a wee ball of string. For little children it will be necessary for the helper to make the pattern, but with older children it is easily made by them. With compasses draw an equilateral triangle, and also an equilateral triangle on each side of the first one, making four triangles in all. The length of the sides of the triangles may be three inches, or if a larger ball is desired, increase them to six inches. Draw a pattern of a Japanese lantern and to make it easier, draw around the pattern of the lantern on each side. Cut around the edges and it will give the pattern for the string ball. Punch holes in the sides about half way down the lantern and put in the cord that fastens the ball together. Tint the inside of the string ball any pretty color, a pale tint of green or pink or blue, and paint the outside of it with rainbow colors to represent a Japanese lantern, and color the straight strip at the top and bottom black. . Put in the little ball of twine, and after threading the cord through the holes at the sides of the lantern, tie a bow at the sides to hold it together. Let the end of the ball of string come out at the top. This is convenient to set on a mantle or a shelf in the kitchen where string is needed. If desired, by punching a hole in the base triangle, the ring may be made to come out of the bottom of the string ball. This may be made of colored box covers or of stiff paper on which colored wall paper has been pasted. A Writing Drill In the second grade the children are so eager to express their thoughts rapidly on paper that the exact formation of the letters is often forgotten and the writing becomes careless. To assist in the correct making and spacing of the letters I have used this drill with good results. On ruled lines on the board I write a letter, say 1. We discuss its appearance, noting the straight back, the crossing on the line, the nicely curved ending. Each child, pencil in hand, arm extended, elbow straight, then traces the letter in the air twice, keeping time with the teacher, who outlines the large letter on the board with a pointer and counts. We make the letter in five rather fast counts, thus: From "1" it is an easy step to "b" in six counts, "h," "k," and "f," in seven counts. Divide the remaining letters into groups, putting those together which have some degree of similarity as a, d, g, q, or m, n. Drill in the same manner with these and also with the capitals, taking care to make each drill short and lively, and to vary it so as to prevent any monotony. Occasionally have the whole or part of the class at the board to write the one or more letters to counting, using the arm movement entirely. At another time a singing tone or a tune may be used in counting, or one child who has tried hard may play teacher and do the counting for the class. I find my class gets very enthusiastic about this drill, and the improvement in the writing is quite observable. I An Afternoon with Dickens N order that the younger children may enjoy the Dickens Centenary, there should not be too much premeditation about the program nor too much preparation beforehand. There is a great deal in Dickens that little children will enjoy even if the selections are too difficult for them to read. In rural schools, the older children may be assigned such readings or the teacher may do it herself. In graded schools, classes may be combined and the difficulty overcome in this way. The village of Chatham seemed the most beautiful place in the whole world to the little boy, and so wonderful was the town-hall, with its clock and bell, to his childish eyes, that for a long time he believed it to be a part of Aladdin's palace. He often went out walking through the woods and green fields around Chatham, or went with his father for a sail upon the Medway among the gay ships and barges. Here, too, he saw the soldiers drilling, their gay banners waving and muskets shining in the bright sunshine, as they marched through the streets or paraded upon the common. But the time soon came when little Charles was obliged to leave the pleasant village he loved so well; and the cool, quiet woods and green fields around Chatham were exchanged for the noise and confusion, the dust, dirt, and smoke of the great city of London. It was a dark, rainy morning when the rumbling old coach stopped at the door, ready to carry the timid little nine-year-old boy to his new home in the great busy city. Very soon the green fields where the daisies and buttercups grew, and the dear old trees under whose branches he had often rested in the pleasant shade, were left far behind; and the little boy felt very sad all alone in the old coach, with the dreary raindrops beating against the windows and the great tear-drops blinding his own eyes. His father had become very poor indeed and their home was in the poorest part of the great city of London. Have you ever been in the poorest, shabbiest part of a large city? If you have, perhaps you can imagine what a change it must have been to this little boy who had always lived in a pleasant village, with plenty of room for play, and pleasant woods and fields near by when he wanted to take a walk to them. Here he had no books, no school, no playmates; and his only comfort was to creep up into this lonely garret-room and think over all the bright stories he had read and the good times he had enjoyed with his little friends in Chatham. His sister Fannie was sent away to school, but he could not go with her, though he longed so much for an opportunity to improve himself and learn something of the great world around him. Thinking of these things and weaving dreams and stories for himself, the lonely child wandered about the streets of London, unnoticed and almost uncared for. At last, a relative seeing him wandering about the streets, told his parents they ought to set him to work, and offered to give him employment in his blacking factory and pay him six shillings a week, if the boy would try to make himself useful. So one Monday morning, he entered the factory, and was set to work tying up bottles of blacking and trimming off the covers neatly. It was a terrible place for a sensitive, delicate child, for his companions were coarse, rough men and boys, and all the beautiful dreams he had woven of being and doing something useful and good in the great world died in his sad little heart. He had no home, for his father was shut up in the Marshalsea prison for debt, and his mother and the younger children were with him, that he might not be alone and that rent might be saved. If little Charles had money enough, he would go out at noon and buy a piece of bread and butter and a cup of coffee for his dinner; but if he had no money, which was quite as often the case, he wandered about the streets looking into the shop windows, or at the market with its fruits and flowers. When Saturday night came, he would tuck the six shillings he had earned through the week safely into a corner of his pocket, then early Sunday morning, accompanied by his dear sister Fannie, he would walk out to the Marshalsea, to spend the day with his parents and little brothers and sisters. Poor little fellow! he was very lonely and disheartened, and the days were long and dreary, yet he would not give up, but worked bravely on, doing his best to make himself useful, until one day the terrible pain in his side, which had made him ill so many times when a very small child, came back, and he could not work. He was always so kind and gentle that even the rough boys in the factory loved him, and one of them made him a bed upon some straw, and placed bottles of hot water against his side to relieve the terrible pain, and tried, in his rough, homely way, to be kind to the poor child. "I will go home with you to-night," he said to little Charles; "you are too sick to be goin' alone." "No, no! thank you," said Charles, his thin little face burning with shame; "I shall get along very well, I think." Poor child, he was ashamed to have even the rude, rough boys in the factory know that his only home was in a prison. But brighter times ) mere coming for the Dickens family. Some money fell to Mr. Dickens, and soon they all left the prison and took lodgings in Little College Street, London. But the sad days of little Charles' life were nearly over and happier times were coming to him. When he was about twelve years old, his father and his employer quarreled over some business matters, and Mr. Dickens said Charles should leave the blacking business forever and attend school. How delighted he was then! The room swam before his tear-dimmed eyes, there was a strange roaring sound in his ears, and he grew faint from joy. He had not been ashamed of toil, for honest work degraded no one; but he was ashamed of his ignorance and afraid of becoming a coarse, rude man like those who worked around him, and such a man he was determined never to be. But he could never look back to that period of his life without great sorrow. READING-"Mr. Winkle on Skates.” ("Stories from Dickens," Page 23. Educational Publishing Company.) - School. SONG When the coach came round at last, with "London" blazoned in letters of gold upon the boot, it gave Tom such a turn, that he was half disposed to run away. But he didn't do it; for he took his seat upon the box instead, and looking down upon the four grays, felt as if he were another gray himself, or, at all events, a part of the turn-out, and was quite confused by the novelty and splendor of his situation. And really it might have confused a less modest man than Tom to find himself sitting next to that coachman; for of all the swells that ever flourished a whip, professionally, he might have been elected emperor. He didn't handle his gloves like another man, but put them oneven when he was standing on the pavement, quite detached from the coach -as if the four grays were, somehow or other, at the ends of the fingers. It was the same with his hat. He did things with his hat, which nothing but an unlimited knowledge of horses and the wildest freedom of the road could ever have made him perfect in. Valuable little parcels were brought to him with particular instructions, and he pitched them into this hat, and stuck it on again; as if the laws of gravity did not admit of its being knocked off or blown off, and nothing like an accident could befall it. It was a charming evening, mild and bright. And even with the weight upon his mind which arose out of the immensity and uncertainty of London, Tom could not resist the captivating sense of rapid motion through the pleasant air. The four grays skimmed along, as if they liked it quite as well as Tom did; the bugle was in as high spirits as the grays; the coachman chimed in sometimes with his voice; the wheels hummed cheerfully in unison; the brass-work on the harness was an orchestra of little bells; and thus, as they went clinking, jingling, rattling smoothly on, the whole concern, from the buckles of the leaders' coupling-reins to the handle of the hind boot, was one great instrument of music. Yoho, past hedges, gates, and trees; past cottages and barns, and people going home from work. Yoho, past donkey-chaises drawn aside into the ditch, and empty carts with rampant horses, whipped up at a bound upon the little water-course, and held by struggling carters close to the five-barred gate, until the coach had passed the narrow turning in the road. Yoho, by churches dropped down by themselves in quiet nooks, with rustic burial-grounds about them, where the graves are green, and daisies sleep - for it is evening on the bosoms of the dead. Yoho, past streams, in which the cattle cool their feet, and where the rushes grow; past paddock-fences, farms and rick-yards; past last year's stacks, cut, slice by slice, away, and showing, in the waning light, like ruined gables, old and brown. Yoho, down the pebbly dip, and through the merry water-splash, and up at a canter to the level road again. Yoho! Yoho! Yoho, among the gathering shades; making of no account the deep reflections of the trees, but scampering on through light and darkness, all the same, as if the lights of London, fifty miles away, were quite enough to tavel by, and some to spare. Yoho, beside the village green, where cricket-players linger yet, and every little indentation made in the fresh grass by bat or wicket, ball or player's foot, sheds out its perfume on the night. See the bright moon! High up before we know it, making the earth reflect the objects on its breast like water. Hedges, trees, low cottages, church steeples, blighted stumps and flourishing young slips, have all grown vain upon the sudden, and mean to contemplate their own fair images till morning. The moss-grown gate, ill-poised upon its creaking hinges, crippled and decayed, swings to and fro before its glass, like some fantastic dowager; while our own ghostly likeness travels on. Yoho! Yoho! through ditch and brake, upon the ploughed land and the smooth, along the steep hillside and steeper wall, as if it were a phantom-hunter. Clouds too! And a mist upon the hollow! Not a dull fog that hides it, but a light airy gauze-like mist, which in our eyes of modest admiration gives a new charm to the beauties it is spread before. Yoho! Why now we travel like the moon herself. Hiding this minute in a grove of trees; next minute in a patch of vapor; emerging now upon our broad clear course; withdrawing now, but always dashing on, our journey is a counterpart of hers. (Continued on page 96) Reproduced, by permission, from the New Library Edition of Dickens' Works, Copyright by Houghton, Mifflin Co. (Continued from page 93) pale face on the bed, "I see the star!" and then a smile would come The beauty of the night is hardly felt, when day comes leaping up. upon the face, and a little weak voice used to say, "God bless my Yoho! brother and the star!" Two stages, and the country roads are almost changed to a And so the time came all too soon - when the child looked out continuous street. Yoho, past market-gardens, rows of houses, villas, crescents, terraces, and squares; past wagons, coaches, carts; past alone, and when there was no face on the bed; and when there was a early workmen, late stragglers, drunken men, and sober carriers of little grave among the graves, not there before; and when the star loads; past brick and mortar in its every shape; and in among the ratmade long rays down towards him, as he saw it through his tears. tling pavements, where a jaunty seat upon a coach is not so easy to preNow, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to make such a shining way from earth to heaven, that when the child went to his solitary bed, he dreamed about the star; and he dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw a train of people taken up that sparkling road by angels. And the star, opening, showed him a great world of light, where many more such angels waited to receive them. serve. Yoho, down countless turnings, and through countless mazy ways, until an old inn-yard is gained, and Tom Pinch, getting down, quite stunned and giddy, is in London! Nicholas accepted the offer to teach French to the little Kenwigses for five shillings a week, and betook himself to the first floor with all convenient speed. Here he was received by Mrs. Kenwigs with a genteel air, kindly intended to assure him of her protection and support; and here, too, he found Mr. Tillyvick and Miss Petowka; the four Miss Kenwigses on their form of audience; and the baby in a dwarf porter's chair with a deal tray before it, amusing himself with a toy horse without a head. "Mr. Johnson is engaged as private master to the children, uncle," said Mrs. Kenwigs. "But I hope," said Mrs. Kenwigs, drawing herself up, that that will not make them proud; but that they will bless their own good fortune, which has borne them superior to common people's children. Do you hear, Morleena ?" "Yes, ma," replied Miss Kenwigs. "And when you go out in the streets, or elsewhere, I desire that you don't boast of it to other children," said Mrs. Kenwigs; "and that if you must say anything about it, you don't say no more than, 'We've got a private master come to teach us at home, but we ain't proud, because ma says it's sinful.' Do you hear, Morleena ?" "Yes, ma," replied Miss Kenwigs again. The four Miss Kenwigses sat in a row, with their tails all one way; and Morleena at the top; while Nicholas, taking the book, began his preliminary explanations. Miss Petowka and Mrs. Kenwigs looked on, in silent admiration, broken only by the whispered assurances of the latter, that Morleena could learn it all by heart in no time. III "Oliver Asking for More" Read "A General Start." ("Stories from Dickens," IV "Little Nell" Read Chapter I from "Little Nell." (Educational READING "A Child's Dream of a Star." There was once a child, and he strolled about a good deal, and thought of a number of things. He had a sister, who was a child too, and his constant companion. These two used to wonder all day long. They wondered at the beauty of the flowers; they wondered at the height and blueness of the sky; they wondered at the depth of the bright water; they wondered at the goodness and the power of God, who made the lovely world. They used to say to one another, sometimes, "Supposing all the children upon earth were to die; would the flowers, and the water, and the sky be sorry?" They believed they would be sorry. For, said they, the buds are the children of the flowers, and the little playful streams, that gambol down the hillsides, are the children of the water; and the smallest bright specks, playing at hide-and-seek in the sky all night, must surely be the children of the stars; and they would all be grieved to see their playmates, the children of men, no more. There was one clear, shining star that used to come out in the sky before the rest, near the church spire, above the graves. It was larger and more beautiful, they thought, than all the others, and every night they watched for it, standing hand in hand at a window. Whoever saw it first, cried out, "I see the star!" And often they cried out both together, knowing so well when it would rise and where. So they grew to be such friends with it, that, before lying down in their beds, they always looked out once again, to bid it good-night; and when they were turning round to sleep, they used to say, "God bless the star!" - the But while she was still very young-O, very, very youngsister drooped, and came to be so weak that she could no longer stand in the window at night; and then the child looked sadly out by himself, and, when he saw the star, turned round and said to the patient, All these angels, who were waiting, turned their beaming eyes upon the people who were carried up into the star; and some came out from the long rows in which they stood, and fell upon the people's necks and kissed them tenderly, and went away with them down avenues of light, and were so happy in their company, that lying in his bed, he wept for joy. But there were many angels who did not go with them, and among them one he knew. The patient face that once had lain upon the bed was glorified and radiant; but his heart found out his sister among all the host. His sister's angel lingered near the entrance of the star, and said to the leader among those who had brought the people thither, "Is my brother come?" And he said, "No." She was turning hopefully away, when the child stretched out his arms, and cried, "O sister, I am here! Take me!" And then she turned her beaming eyes upon him, and it was night; and the star was shining into the room, making long rays down towards him as he saw it through his tears. From that hour forth the child looked out upon the star as on the home he was to go to, when his time should come; and he thought that he did not belong to the earth alone, but to the star too, because of his sister's angel gone before. There was a baby born to be a brother to the child; and while he was so little that he never yet had spoken a word, he stretched his tiny form out on his bed, and died. Again the child dreamed of the opened star, and of the company of angels, and the train of people, and the rows of angels with their beaming eyes all turned upon those people's faces. Said his sister's angel to the leader, "Is my brother come?" As the child beheld his brother's angel in her arms, he cried, "O sister, I am here! Take me!" And she turned and smiled upon him. And the star was shining. He grew to be a young man, and was busy at his books, when an old I bring her A mighty cry of joy went forth through all the star, because the mother was reunited to her two children. And he stretched out his arms, and cried, "O mother, sister, and brother, I am here! Take me!" And they answered him, "Not yet." And the star was shining. He grew to be a man whose hair was turning gray, and he was sitting in his chair by the fire-side, heavy with grief, and with his face bedewed with tears, when the star opened once again. Said his sister's angel to the leader, "Is my brother come?" And the man who had been the child saw his daughter, newly lost to him, a celestial creature among those three; and he said, "My daughter's head is on my sister's bosom, and her arm is round my mother's neck, and at her feet there is the baby of old time, and I can bear the parting from her, God be praised!" And the star was shining. Thus the child came to be an old man, and his once smooth face was wrinkled, and his steps were slow and feeble, and his back was bent. And one night, as he lay upon his bed, his children standing round, he cried as long ago, "I see the star!" And they whispered one another, "He is dying." And he said, "I am. My age is falling from me like a garment and |