Number 6

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how; Everything is happy now,

Everything is upward striving;

'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true As for grass to be green or skies to be blue. 'Tis the natural way of living.

Who knows whither the clouds have fled?

In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake; And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, The heart forgets its sorrow and ache; The soul partakes the season's youth,

And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth; Like burnt out craters healed with snow. Vision of Sir Launfal

The Mission of a Flower

A university professor wisely and strenuously insists that we turn away from the old botany dissection and classification in our plant study with the children, and in its place, urges the consideration of the leaf and flower as a working organism. So far, good, but in his zeal to get away from the memorizing of technicalities he completely ignores the value of the beauty element in nature study. He says of the flower (the apple blossom or spring beauty!) "Let us remember that the beauty of this flower is but an incident and that the work of the flower is the essential thing," and proceeds to explain that the life purpose of every plant is to perpetuate itself.

If the beauty of the flower is "but an incident," why was it made beautiful at all? If, as the professor says, the bright coloring is only to attract insects to assist in fertilization and reproduction, why all the exquisite tints in its marvellous shades of color? A shapeless mass of gorgeous color would attract insects just as surely, and the reproduction of the species would just as certainly be accomplished.

If the flower is to be brought before the children simply as a working organism and its beauty is to receive only an incidental reference, why did the Creator make of it such a masterpiece of beauty? Why did He paint each velvet petal with such matchless skill that artists search eternally for the secret and die despairing? What is the relation of flowers to humanity? Is the flower here without a mission? The beauty sense is a gift from God, and like every other divine gift, was intended for use and for the uplift of humanity.

No, the beauty of the flower is not a "mere incident" in its study with the children. It should be instead, the very first element in the consideration of it in the school-room. When the teacher has opened the eyes of the children to see its beauty, and touched the child-heart to feel its loveliness, when the mellowing, humanizing influence of this sense and soul revelation begins to be reflected subtly in the spirit of

the children, then the teacher has reached the place in the study of the flower where these children will be ready to learn of it as a working organism—and not before. Under the spell of its divine beauty they are eager to learn everything concerning it. Now they listen con amore and not as a cold, intellectual exercise.

Is there any natural antagonism between the aesthetic and scientific in nature study? Is there any good reason why the heart and the intellect should not be united in this work? None in the world, but the heart must lead if the deeper, spiritual meaning of nature study is ever to be found. The teacher who begins the study of any natural object on the practical side, ignoring the beauty of form, color, or design, not only does her children a moral wrong, but she makes a pedagogical mistake that she will come to regret if she knows enough of cause and effect to recognize her error. If that teacher, and the university professor, had never known any cause for the rainbow, would their interest in it be aroused or increased by first learning the prismatic spectrum, or the laws of the refraction and reflection of the sun's rays! Would not their desire to know the scientific facts of the celestial phenomena be immeasurably greater if they had first thrilled with its beauty, seen it as "the heaven of flowers," and by the light of rosy fancy watched the mythical Iris, maiden of the rainbow tint, as she passed over the shining archway bearing her gifts from the gods to men.

Let us put ourselves in the place of the children as far as it is possible in our attempts at nature study. Let us try to unseal their eyes to perceive beauty, train the ear for the finest nature melody, and feed their God-given imagination with the purest food in nature's kingdom. This ideal does not presuppose that scientific fact has no place in nature study. It has its place and an important one. But it must not crowd out or supplant the culture side and the spiritual side of this work with the children. Soul before science.

From "The Method of the
Recitation

(The following selections are taken from this popular new book for teachers, by the permission of the publishers.- EDITOR.)

I.

Steps in the Mastery of Individual Notions

1. Good teaching deals primarily with ideas rather than with words, and it consists in fitting or dove-tailing new thoughts and emotions with those already in the pupil's possession; it is a process of adjusting the new to the old;

and the extent to which a close adjustment is secured determines the effectiveness of the instruction imparted. Real skill is required to do this; hence teaching is not a merely mechanical work that any one can do. Not every one can teach; even those who know the subject-matter of instruction thoroughly may make an utter failure of it. In order to fit new knowledge to what the child already knows, it is necessary not only to be acquainted with the facts to be offered, but also with the child to whom they are to be offered; the latter is a more difficult task, yet the pupil must be thoroughly understood before deftness can be shown in the matching process. But while teaching is difficult, there is comfort in the fact that it is a kind of work in which skill can be acquired. It is not true that "teachers are born, not made." The average teacher can become, or be made, a teacher, provided he will study the child and the laws of influencing him with the same care that he studies the subjects to be offered.

*"The Method of the Recitation" by Charles A. McMurry Ph.D and Frank M. McMurry Ph.D Public School Publishing Co. Bloomington Ill.

2. Words have no magic power; they are a subordinate instrument in the acquisition of knowledge, being mere symbols by which experiences are called to mind. If these latter are wanting, there is no effect. The eloquence of Cicero could not explain to a deaf man what music is, or to a blind man what scarlet is, if the defect in hearing or sight dated from birth.

Even the fact that pupils remember the words of the teacher, or of the book and can repeat them promptly, gives no sufficient proof of knowledge; it gives proof only of a good memory. Very often the ability to reproduce exact words of definitions, etc., is only a cloak behind which ignorance is covered. For instance, exceedingly few English speaking people ever reach any real appreciation of case in grammar, although they can give the definition and some examples very readily. Few teachers of case ever have any warm feeling for that subject, which is evidence that they have not yet made it their own. Much verbatim memorizing is merely practice in unconscious deception, for thereby both teachers and students are persuaded that knowledge is acquired, when, in fact, it is only the symbols for ideas rather than the ideas themselves that are mastered.

3. The mind is not a passive recipient of knowledge, like a vessel for water, or a storehouse for grain. It is active in choosing; it applies the severe test of kinship to all that is presented to it, ignoring whatever seems foreign and giving a warm reception to whatever appears closely related to its needs.

The past is, therefore, the foundation for all future learning. This is true of any kind of knowledge, and applies fully to the acquisition of individual notions. There is no short cut to learning by merely "handing over" ideas from one person to another; whatever is received is accepted solely on the condition that it find a foundation suited to it;

all else is discarded.

It is the first duty of the teacher, then, to direct attention to the past related experiences. The architect provides first for the foundation of his building, and the stronger the superstructure is to be, the deeper he digs into the earth for the base. This takes time and costs much money, but it is manifest folly to omit it. The same is true of the instructor; the sole condition under which a sure reception can be found for what he offers, is that he direct attention very carefully to the old ideas as the groundwork.

This being true, it is evident that there are two distinct and important steps to be taken in the mastery of individual notions; first, the teacher should be employed with the related past experiences, preparing them for the reception of the new; second, the new facts should be presented. The first may well be called the step of preparation (of the pupil's mind); the second, the step of presentation. The two will be treated separately and somewhat at length.

The Aim in Recitation

t is taken for granted that the teacher has a definite

object in view in each recitation; the contention now is that the pupils also shall aim at something definite. The preparatory step which has been discussed requires that they select all facts in their possession that bear on a given topic and reject all else. They must do most of this work themselves; the teacher can merely offer them suggestions. But unless they are told in some way what the recitation is aiming to accomplish, they are ignorant as to what they should search for; of course, then; they are helpless and must be led along blindly. Not planning to reach any particular destination, the course traveled is not likely to be noted, and it could not easily be traveled again without a guide. This is an argument against the somewhat common practice of leading children by strange paths to unexpected discoveries. It is an excellent thing to make discoveries, but it is much better that they be dimly anticipated than that they come as entire surprises; students of all ages should know where they are bound; and if they comprehend the situation so well that they foresee what is likely to come next, it is an encouraging sign. Recognizing this truth, teachers very frequently state the aim of each recita

tion to the class. For instance, it is announced that the work of the hour will consist in finding what per cent one number is of another, or what a pronoun is, or how cities obtain pure water. Or perhaps the teacher merely remarks that they will study about Bunker Hill, about England, or about insects. Such statements of the aim of the hour acquaint the class with the purpose in a general way; but they are very defective, because they are in danger of provoking no thought. Since the selection of the desired past experieces must be made largely by the pupils, that aim is useless which does not immediately catch their attention and set them to work, and that one is worse than useless which seems to them unattractive and even repellent.

It is evident, therefore, that a properly stated aim must fulfil several important requirements. In the first place, it must be concrete and not abstract. Enough has been said about abstractions or generalizations in previous chapters to show that they follow individual notions. They are empty and repulsive until one has the concrete data upon which they depend. Consequently the children should not be told that a recitation is aiming to explain some general truth. This does not signify by any means that the teacher shall have no such aim in her own mind. As has been stated already, instruction culminates in generalizations, and the teacher must keep these in mind; but this purpose is a thing entirely separate from the aim which should be stated to the children. For instance, a good Sunday school teacher, in telling about Daniel in the lion's den, would hope ultimately to impress upon her pupils the general truth that God protects those who trust in Him; but the object of the recitation which she would give to the class might well be," to find out how it happened that Daniel was thrown into a den of lions, and how he was protected from their violence." This is a concrete statement and

would naturally arouse the interest of children. It is only this kind, as a rule, which is likely to do that. Therefore, instead of saying that "we will find out to-day what per cent one number is of another," we could better give such a problem as the following: "A camel lives forty years and an. elephant one hundred and ten years; the age of the former is what per cent of that of the latter?" Also, instead of taking the question, "What are pronouns? which is abstract, aiming at a definition, it would be better to set up the following object: "Let us see what words you used to take the place of Columbus in the composition you have written about him?" In place of the question, “ How do cities obtain their water?" it would be better to ask (if one lived in Chicago), "Where does Chicago get its water, and how is it brought to the city?" In teaching the fable about the Lion and the Mouse, the teacher may properly aim to show to her pupils that little things may be of much help; but her concrete statement might be: "Let us talk about how a mouse once saved the life of a lion." Thus the first requirements of a good aim is fulfilled by making it

concrete.

The second important requirement is that the aim be definite. Little is accomplished by announcing that "We will continue the same subject." And a teacher fixes a very imperfect purpose before her class when she states that they will study "About Bunker Hill," or "About leaves," or "About Spain," or "About the union of our states." The following aims are much more desirable: "How the Americans outwitted the British and drove them out of Boston," "Where leaves grow; why they are so thin; why they fall," etc. "Why nearly all the large cities in Spain are on the coast," "What prevented the union of our colonies from breaking to pieces at the close of the Revolutionary war.” The advantages of the latter consist in the fact that they are definite enough to concentrate attention upon a particular point.

As far as possible one should state an object which can be accomplished within one recitation period, and consequently some of the aims just stated might need to be divided somewhat. For example, the one in regard to Bunker Hill might be stated thus: first, "Let us study the plan that the Americans adopted to outwit the British and drive them out of Boston;" second, "Let us see how this

plan was executed." In each case the class would be expected to review the situation in which each army was placed, etc., before the advance instruction begins: this would constitute the preparatory step.

The third requirement is that the aim be short, simple, and attractive. Strange words would not be acceptable. Hence, with children it would be better to ask, "How do leaves help the tree?" than "What is the function of leaves?" Also, "What changes does the caterpiller pass through?" rather than, "What are the metamorphoses of the caterpillar?" Of course, the simpler the statement, the more easily it is understood; and the shorter it is, the more easily it is reproduced. It is usually desirable that the children reproduce it at least once at the beginning of the recitation, in order to make sure that it is understood. The attractiveness of the aims stated will depend upon the happy combination of what is familiar and what is new to the child. Here is a great opportunity for skill on the part of the teacher. The wording should be such that the class will feel at least partially acquainted with the topic and still strangers to such an extent that they will be desirous of learning more in regard to it. That aim is weak which does not awaken a feeling of need in the child for more knowledge.

E

On Buying a Library

ANNIE W. SANBORN St. Paul Minn.

VERYBODY, young or old, rich or poor, wise, or foolish, should have a library. Should have? Does have, as a general rule. There are houses in which the library consists of what are called "railroad" novels, and an occasional magazine of the lighter sort. There are others in which to these are added certain gaily colored volumes "sold by subscription." And there are all sorts of gradations between these and the richly bound and sumptuously housed volumes which the newly rich order, to match their draperies, from their bookseller.

Quite apart from these and vastly more interesting from the human point of view than even the "collector's " library, with its rare editions, reverently displayed, is the

individual accumulation

- the two or three shelves of books which some one person has gathered and cannot well do without. In the case of the permanent dweller, even this collection frequently becomes larger than is needful and it requires an occasional weeding to reduce it to proper and natural dimensions. A woman who moves often is apt not to carry more with her than she mnst absolutely have and she will be careful not to accumulate superfluous books. She should therefore, exercise due care in the beginning, not to buy books of a temporary or superficial value.

Are Books a Luxury?

The question arises almost immediately how one with a small income can afford to buy even a small library. Yet it is indeed an overstrained income which cannot be stretched

to admit the purchase of one or two books a year. Whether we buy books depends, actually, on how far they are necessary to our existence. If they are of prime importance we shall manage, some way, to get them. We shall sacrifice something else and suffer, perhaps, for the want of it. But what of that? The books themselves, when we get them, are ours by so much the more and are dearer to our hearts in proportion to their cost.

Books are a luxury only when they are not essential to the growth of the mind and character. The moment we begin to buy them because we wish merely to embellish our lives thereby, they become a luxury. Not that we are to stop buying when we reach that stage, but that we should not stop until we do.

As a matter of fact, that stage is reached very early in the book-buying career, provided, of course, that we begin with the right books. We shall make no progress at all, for example, by purchasing "Quo Vadis." It is a book with which we may eternally dispense, to our own gain — not harmful, but superfluous. The purchase of a book that

enjoys a phenomenal "run" is always unwise, unless you indulge in it as a deliberate dissipation,-in which case it is worse than unwise.

What to Buy

What the first purchase should be, supposing anything so unlikely as that a woman should possess nothing at all in the shape of a book, it is not hard to decide. We will assume that there is a Bible, to begin with. The next thing should, by all the laws of tradition, be Shakespeare. In this case the laws of tradition justify themselves. One ought not to try to keep house without Shakespeare. As to editions, there is more solid comfort to be had out of those that offer each play in a separate volume. It may be making too much concession to the physical, but to some people, the mere exertion of holding a heavy volume with a stiff, inflexible back, takes off a great deal from the enjoyment of its

contents.

On the other hand, to go to your Shakespeare shelf, and run eye and finger along the dear familiar backs of the little volumes, linger a minute over Cymbeline" or "Twelfth Night" or "The Merry Wives" or "As You Like It," and finally to choose the one that best fits your mood - isn't it one of the joys of living? And for this purpose the small separate volume is so cosy, so adaptable. Moreover, it permits that latitude in the choice of a chair and that abandon of pose that seem to be essentials of enjoyment with most women. For you can lie flat on your back and read a Temple or a Rolfe Shakespeare-though it is very bad for the eyes.

Both these editions are highly desirable, and both can be purchased one volume at a time, so that you can begin by buying only those plays that you wish to read at once. In this way your Shakespeare purchases will not make a great hole in your book fund, but will leave something over for buying other books during the same period. One might, for example, buy four of the little volumes in each year, at forty or fifty cents apiece, thus completing the set in ten years, and leaving, out of the annual fund of five dollars, at least three dollars for the purchase of other books.

Next after Shakespeare, I should advice the purchase of Homer's "Iliad" in Bryant's translation. There is a student's edition sold at one dollar, and others at varying prices and in more satisfactory form. Beyond Shakespeare and Homer in poetry, there should be the widest latitude for individual taste and preference. Never buy the works of a poet whom you do not love, unless you have a large fund at your disposal and wish to make a complete poetical collection.

Beware of compilations and anthologies. Some of them are good, but trust no man to select or compile for your individual delectation. When you know your poets thoroughly you can take up one of these collections and judge easily whether the selections meet with your approval. they do not you do not want the book; and if they do, you probably will prefer having the works of the poets themselves.

If

The same latitude of choice should be observed in the buying of prose essays. Buy one volume each of six notable essayists for example, Bacon, Lamb, Ruskin, Emerson, Lowell, and Symonds or Arnold. If there are others who appeal to you more directly, substitute them, but remember that these are masters of English and that that is one of the requisite of good essay-writing. If your taste runs in the direction of essays, you will find yourself collecting them easily, they are obtainable in such alluring and inexpensive form.

But let the very cheap editions alone. There are bargains to be had in the book line, but keep clear of the "twenty-nine-cent counter" when buying your favorite essayist. He should be enshrined in a certain dignity; and good paper, good type, and a modest but agreeable binding, are not too much tribute to pay him. Moreover, the typographical errors, omissions and other defects of the "pirated" editions are grievous and not to be borne. Forego that extra shirt-waist and have your Bacon or your Ruskin in proper forin. It would be delightful to claim "Some little luxury here,

Of red morocco's gilded gleam,
And vellum, rich as country cream," -

but it is the inside of the book we want first. Let its material part be sound and serviceable, but for editions de luxe have grace to wait "till the ship comes in."

A few good novels should have a place, even in a small library. You will want to own, say, half a dozen of the highest order. Make your first selections, according to your individual taste, from the works of Scott, Jane Austen, Victor Hugo, Balzac, Turgenev, Thackeray, Dickens, Hawthorne, Charlotte Bronte, George Eliot. Select critically and let your choice be based on the artistic and spiritual qualities of the book, not on its more superficial attractions. Finally, the suggestion for letting new novels ripen before. you read them applies still more emphatically to the buying. Shun Illustrated Books

Another thing to avoid is the buying of books whose value is enhanced by the number and splendor of their illustrations. In the fundamental selections we are making now, illustrations must not be considered at all. The reason is obvious. Poor illustrations we do not want,- good ones increase the cost of the book, which is what we are planning to avoid. An "illustrated edition" of a single long poem by a standard poet, will cost at least twice as much as a good plain edition of the same poet's entire works. For the cost of the illustrated book you can probably buy the entire product of your poet in a single volume, and add one or two others beside.

Moreover, the illustrated edition, even as an extra indulgence, is but a doubtful joy. It is often too large for your book case, and has consequently to be kept in some place. where dust can get at it. In frequent removals it becomes a burden. In addition to this, it is apt to have in small quarters a too impressive personality, like Mr. Anstey's Greek goddess in a barber's shop. We grow remorsefully conscious of wishing it could be transformed into a chafingdish or a pair of boots or anything practical and portable.

These remarks, of course, do not apply to books whose illustrations are a necessity, as, for instance, Lubke's "History of Art"; or to books, which, like the "Stories of the Nations" series derive some part of their instructiveness from pictures of places and portraits, and which are not The sort of thing I indeed, to be obtained without them. mean is usually a poem or a novel issued in a "gift" or "holiday" edition with photogravure pictures. These vary in artistic excellence, some of the most expensive being atrocities of bad taste, but even the better ones are not desirable in a small library.

If some well-meaning but undiscriminating friend, who thinks of you as a person "so fond of books" shows signs of remembering you at Christmas with an addition to your library, do not hesitate to assert some explicit preference in his or her presence. Such people have a fatal fondness for the "gift-book "`and almost any device is excusable to circumvent their amiable intentions.

Books of Reference

A few books of reference are desirable even in a small

library. A good dictionary is almost necessary and it is obtainable in all gradations of price, from the small school the mammoth copies that are better than nothing, to achievements of very recent date. If you are fond of studying words, Skeat's "Etymological Dictionary" is an studying words, Skeat's " excellent aid. It is to be had in a student's edition at a low price. Also in the line of English study is Meiklejohn's "The English Language," which is excellent for library purposes as it treats the subject historically and in a large way. It supplies, within limitations, the need for a book on syntax and rhetoric, and for another on English literature. In selecting a book for reference on American literature, choose one of not too recent date. Richardson's, a two volume work, is very satisfactory and of permanent value. Such books, unlike the poets, essayists and novelists, are generally to be had in but one form, so there is nothing to guard against in the purchase of them, if one is to have them at all. Add a concise "universal history," a book of quotations and a primer of mythology, and your reference list will be fairly adequate.

The foregoing suggestions apply, it will be observed, to

books that any cultured person would wish to include in a small library. Let us assume that you have now represented in your collection, six poets, six essayists, five novelists, and three books of reference. This leaves a margin of thirty volumes in which to follow your individual bent. If you have a special interest in some branch of study, as history, for example, you will be able, by careful selection, to get a very satisfactory and useful, though not all-inclusive collection inside this margin. Thirty volumes of historical works, well-chosen, would make a worthy store-house of facts. So in science, philosophy, or sociology quite a thorough combination could be contrived. In reckoning on a fifty volume library, I do not, of course, count each of the separate volumes of your Skakespeare as one, but should put down his entire works as a single item, whether they are included in one volume or forty.

Little Boy Blue (Page 102, Part 1)

If one wants some real fun and is not afraid of a little noise it will be well to use this song with its exquisite melody. The words of course are familiar to all children and seem very simple, but they are such as will call up clear and pleasing pictures in the children's minds.

Let the desk space be the cornfield and the front part of the room the meadow. Choose a number of children for cows and some for sheep. Choose a Boy Blue and let him have a real horn of some sort. We first played this game in our kindergarten because a real Boy Blue brought a real horn to school one day.

Let a chair, desk, or anything else, be a hay-cock. Before the song is begun Boy Blue drives his cows and sheep into the dressing-room or hall, which is presumably the place where they belong. He sits down under the haycock to keep watch and falls asleep.

Showing the movement of the windmill

C

HILDREN may turn themselves into windmills in various ways; by sitting quietly in their seats and merely using their hands; by standing in the aisles and letting their arms represent the fans; or by a little group forming a circle, and, by the movement of the whole body, showing the movement of the windmill. If the first method is chosen all the children can sing the song. If the second is selected some should sing and others make the movement. If the third is preferred those children who remain in their seats will tell the story in song while chosen ones dramatize it. The words of this song carry their own directions so plainly that "he who runs may read."

Little Boy Blue

The children in the seats sing the song softly all through, and as they sing the cows and sheep slip noiselessly in and wander over cornfield and meadow. When the song is ended Boy Blue wakes and blows a blast on his horn which sends the cows and sheep scampering back to their own pastures.

The children will want to play this game often enough each time to admit of every child's having an opportunity of being a cow or a sheep.

Ring Around the Posy Bed (Page 74, Part 1)

She mounts her throne, they form a little ring around her

This is a much-modified "Ring Around the Rosy" game, and should be played in a large open space. The children might learn the song in school with the object in view of playing it out-of-doors, where it rightfully belongs, on some gala day. It might prove a charming vacation gift to the children, for if they really learn it, really play it, and really enjoy it they will in all probability use it among themselves during their holidays.

The accessories are a chair, box, or something on which the queen can stand, and a wreath or other floral decoration.