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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
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WORKS BY 
 
 LOUISA PARSONS HOPKINS, 
 
 Teacher of Normal Methods in the Swain 
 Free School, New Bedford. 
 
 HANDBOOK OF THE EARTH. Natural 
 
 Methods in Geography $0.50 
 
 NATURAL-HISTORY PLAYS. Dialogues 
 and Recitations for School Exhibitions. 
 
 Boards net, .30 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY IN EDUCATION 50 
 
 PRACTICAL PEDAGOGY ; or, The Science of 
 
 Teaching Illustrated net t i.oo 
 
 MOTHERHOOD. Full gilt 1.50 
 
 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE . 1.25 
 OBSERVATION LESSONS IN THE PRI- 
 MARY SCHOOLS. One vol. Cloth. . net, .75 
 Four Parts. Paper. Each Part 25 
 
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 BOSTON. 
 
HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT! 
 
 PRACTICAL PEDAGOGY 
 
 OR 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF TEACHING 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUISA P. HOPKINS 
 
 SUPERVISOR OF UOSTON PUBLIC SCHOOLS 
 
 BOSTON 
 LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 
 
 NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 
 
COPYRIGHT, iSS6, BY LEE AND SHEPARD. 
 yl// Rights Reserved. 
 
 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE BABE IN THE MOTHER'S ARMS i 
 
 II. AFTER THE KINDERGARTEN 6 
 
 III. A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING 12 
 
 IV. THE OPENING SCHOOL 20 
 
 V. THE KEY-NOTE 25 
 
 VI. ARITHMETIC 31 
 
 THE CLASS IN ARITHMETIC: 
 
 ITS INTRODUCTION TO COMPOUND NUMBERS, 36 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO FINANCE 45 
 
 VII. NATURE LESSONS 55 v 
 
 VIII. READING TO THE CHILDREN 68 
 
 IX. ORAL LESSONS 73 \ 
 
 ON BIRDS 77 
 
 IN BOTANY i., ii., iii., iv 87 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 X. PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS in 
 
 XI. PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY i., ii., iii., iv., v. . 136 
 
 Vi. THE SENSES l6l 
 
 Vii. THE EYE 164 
 
 viii. THE SENSE OF HEARING l68 
 
 IX. VITAL ORGANS : THE HEART 174 
 
 THE LUNGS 176 
 
 THE DIGESTIVE ORGANS 178 
 
 XII. THE PRIMARY TEACHER: HER WORK AND HER 
 
 FITNESS FOR IT 183 
 
 XIII. AN ADDRESS TO PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS . . 197 
 
 XIV. THE SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING 207 
 
 XV. PARABLES; LAWS OF NATURE AND LIFE, OR SCI- 
 ENCE APPLIED TO CHARACTER ... 238 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE following papers were published during 
 eight years in the Primary Teacher, edited by 
 W. E. Sheldon. They have the virtue of being 
 immediate reports of actual work with a class of 
 children whose growth from childhood to later 
 youth has justified the methods of that early 
 education. 
 
 A protest against the amount of work claimed 
 for one year called out the appreciative explan- 
 ation of Col. T. Wentworth Higginson, which I 
 append, knowing that my cause is secure in the 
 hands of such a champion of right education. 
 
 LOUISA P. HOPKINS. 
 
MRS. HOPKINS' -YEAR'S EXPERIMENT." 
 
 BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON. 
 
 "THE WRONG HANDLE." 
 
 " ALL things," says Epictetus, " have two 
 handles : beware of the wrong one." I have 
 never seen the wrong handle more distinctly used 
 than in the criticisms, public and private, on the 
 essay " A Year's Experiment," by Mrs. Hopkins, 
 published in the November number of the 
 Primary Teacher. 
 
 The essay gave the extraordinary results of a 
 year's teaching, applied to a class of girls by a 
 teacher of thorough training and much experience, 
 but who had happily escaped what may be 
 called the " ruts " of our public-school system. 
 
 The difference of attitude of the writer and her 
 critics seems at first bewildering ; but a little 
 examination will explain it. Perhaps an illustra- 
 
Vlll COLONEL HIGGINSON'S LETTER. 
 
 tion will help. I know a scientific man who made 
 a calculation of the amount of space travelled, in 
 a single day, by his boy of four years. I forget 
 the amount, but it was something stupendous. 
 If it had been announced in the public prints 
 that any child of that age had been compelled to 
 walk one-half that distance along a public road, 
 between sunrise and sunset, the Society for the 
 Prevention of Cruelty to Children would have in- 
 terfered. They would have shown, by irresistible 
 argument, that the task was atrocious; and they 
 would have been quite right, had it been done 
 under compulsion. Yet there is the fact that, 
 when the child is left to itself, it accomplishes 
 twice the amount, and calls it play. 
 
 We touch here the precise difference. Looked 
 at from the point of view of the average public 
 school, I should think that Mrs. Hopkins' state- 
 ment would appear an outrage. For this point of 
 view would be like measuring the miles along the 
 road. Public-school teachers, reading the essay, 
 assume that the author has produced their results, 
 by their methods. Not at all : she has produced 
 her own results, by her own methods. It is evi- 
 dent from her statement that the children enjoyed 
 
COLONEL HIGGINSON'S LETTER. IX 
 
 themselves as they went along. In my own case 
 there is the additional evidence derived from a 
 personal knowledge of Mrs. Hopkins herself, and 
 from the firm conviction that she would not over- 
 work children, and would not "cram." Of course 
 this is private knowledge, but it seems to me that 
 the article carries its own evidence on that point. 
 I must say, frankly, that I do not think it 
 possible for the best public-school teacher to 
 render justice to what can be done for a picked 
 class of young children whose minds are fresh 
 and unspoiled. Public schools have many strong 
 merits, but their size and their mixed material 
 give very little chance for the kind of talent in 
 teacher or scholar which produces great individual 
 results. Consequently, all steps which look to- 
 ward fresh and natural methods have to be tried 
 in private schools first. Public schools for drill, 
 no doubt, and for mutual action of mind ; but 
 private schools for freshness and originality. 
 
 It was the theory of Horace Mann, and nobody 
 has ever got beyond it, that all knowledge is 
 naturally attractive to a child, and that it is our 
 fault if he does not love it all. It is idle to say 
 that there is no royal road to knowledge. Prob- 
 
X COLONEL HIGGINSON'S LETTER. 
 
 ably the most extraordinary intellectual feat 
 we perform in all our lives is the learning to 
 spell our own language ; and this we do so easily 
 and early that we do not remember anything about 
 it. If we could learn to make other intellectual 
 feats as attractive and natural, they too could be 
 done, in their turn, without tears. Take as illustra- 
 tion the different things taught by Mrs. Hopkins. 
 When her critics hear that her young pupils 
 learned to speak French and German, they are 
 appalled ; for they think of long and weary 
 lessons in Ollendorff or Fasquelle. But all ex- 
 perience shows that if you take children early 
 enough, and surround them with people speaking 
 different languages, they will learn two or three 
 of these as easily as one, and with a purity of 
 accent that shames their more learned elders. 
 So in history : when Mrs. Hopkins says of her 
 pupils, " They had quite a clear vision of the 
 course of events in this country for two hundred 
 years," she says what is perfectly practicable ; it 
 can be safely claimed that hundreds of children 
 ten years old have learned the same by simply 
 reading and re-reading, to please themselves, the 
 work she names as a text-book. 
 
COLONEL HIGGINSON'S LETTER. xi 
 
 When one critic says, " No child of ten ought 
 to memorize enough to remember the leading 
 events in our country for the last two hundred 
 years," we see the point of view of the public 
 school. In these schools the " leading events" 
 are often held to include the number of killed and 
 wounded on each side in every battle of the 
 American Revolution. But this is just the method 
 which Mrs. Hopkins sets aside ; and experience 
 shows that her success, on her method, is perfectly 
 practicable. So, when we turn to the other studies 
 mentioned, we see the same influence of a wise 
 teacher availing herself of the natural action of the 
 childish mind. Who that has taught natural his- 
 tory to children, in outdoor lessons, in summer, 
 cannot see that this formidable " Zoology and 
 Botany " may be so presented as to be a delight ? 
 They are such things as children learn in vacation, 
 under right guidance, and call it play. So with 
 even grammar and arithmetic, as here described. 
 The difference between a natural and an arbitrary 
 mode of presenting them is simply the difference 
 between rowing with the current or against it. 
 
 Thus the whole paper is to me interpreting it, 
 no doubt, with personal knowledge of the author 
 
Xii COLONEL HIGGINSON'S LETTER. 
 
 something very much like the scientific calculation 
 of my friend as to the miles traversed by his little 
 boy. Having carried her pupils easily along, Mrs. 
 Hopkins looks round with amazement to see how 
 far she has brought them. Any teacher who 
 begins by summing up the miles is taking hold 
 of the wrong handle, whether it be done for 
 censure or imitation. But any teacher who will 
 observe and imitate the methods of nature will 
 have reason to be astonished, I am sure, at the 
 distance easily traversed, whether in a day or a 
 year. Woman* s Journal of January 19, 1878. 
 

 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BABE IN THE MOTHER'S ARMS J OR, PRIMARY 
 TEACHING. 
 
 WE are accustomed to apply this expression, 
 Primary Teaching, to a secondary stage of educa- 
 tion which begins with the primary school ; but 
 there is undoubtedly an earlier teaching, which 
 begins with the opening senses and perceptions of 
 the babe in its mother's arms. The attention of 
 scientists is already turned to this era of educa- 
 tion, and Frobel has formulated its stages to 
 some extent. We might go back of even that 
 for the primary teaching, and suggest instruction 
 for the mother in the very beginnings of her 
 relations with her child, as the former of its 
 being ; but for the present we limit ourselves to 
 the consideration of the education which begins 
 with the cradle. 
 
 i 
 
2 //oil' SHALL MY CHILD RE TAUGHT?. 
 
 The little unconscious pupil is to be moulded 
 by the most intangible influences. It is impossi- 
 ble to analyze the sympathy and love which 
 emanate from the true mother, and which are the 
 life-elements of the babe's atmosphere. How 
 barren are the regulations of the nurse and 
 physician, compared with the vital force of the 
 mother's absorbed interest ! She is content to 
 hold it in her arms day and night, breathing out 
 her love. It may be that a constant magnetic 
 current is still flowing between the child and 
 mother as a channel of growth. Her presence in 
 itself is a gentle stimulus to its development. If 
 we would learn from nature, let us receive this 
 fact as an indication of one important element in 
 the subsequent stages of the child's education. 
 First, an atmosphere must be created in which 
 the formative agencies can work ; a magnetic 
 current of sympathy must flow between pupil 
 and teacher, which shall bear freely upon its 
 course all that the teacher has to give and the 
 pupil may receive. 
 
 Again, the mother follows her loving instinct in 
 giving to her cradled babe what it shows a desire 
 for, not forcing a succession of facts upon its 
 
THE BABE IN THE MOTHER'S ARMS. 3 
 
 attention ; she gives it time to perceive and receive 
 a distinct image or impression, and then to rest. 
 She neither urges the babe to concentration, nor 
 seeks to divert it when concentrated. She is 
 happy if she be not trying to straiten herself and 
 her child to the rules of society or the maxims 
 of critical aunts and those unnatural dowagers 
 who think the baby should be managed so as to 
 be most easily forgotten and left out of the 
 family calculations. My chief abhorrence is that 
 woman who ridicules a young mother's devotion ; 
 who would have the sensitive babe left to in- 
 different and ignorant nurses, or to the terrifying 
 phantoms and lonely darkness of its worse than 
 orphaned cradle, while the false or misguided 
 mother entertains her society friends or reads 
 the latest novel. I could summon Ivan Ivano- 
 vitch to cleave the head of that cold-hearted 
 woman with his honest axe, as he did that of the 
 Siberian mother who threw her children to the 
 howling wolves. I could stand by at such a 
 drama and say, " Well done, true and honest 
 avenger ; God's man in God's place." 
 
 The gospel of the earliest education is the 
 motherly instinct, the highest and oldest revela- 
 
4 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 tion of the law and pattern of primary teaching. 
 Frobel was able to announce its formulae only 
 by abandoning his mind to the observation of the 
 mother's instinctive methods ; that was his 
 domain of discovery. I remember an occasion 
 when two young mothers, thoroughly obedient to 
 that instinct, attended a lecture by an apostle of 
 child-culture. They were amused by the assump- 
 tion of originality on the part of the lecturer. 
 The maxims laid down were to them axioms, as 
 they have been to every genuine mother since the 
 world began. Fortunately for the race of man, 
 the mothers have been taught by a higher 
 authority than even Frobel, if they enter upon 
 their vocation obedient to the heavenly vision 
 which is vouchsafed them at the cradle. 
 
 Nevertheless, something is gained by a logical 
 statement and analysis of these natural methods 
 of the nursery. The danger is that the statement 
 will become one-sided that with the inertia 
 and momentum of an enthusiastic idealist, the 
 development of a system of child-culture will be 
 excessive in one direction ; the harmony of nature 
 will be destroyed. Let us be careful how we 
 introduce our hard lines too early into the free 
 
THE BABE IN THE MOTHER'S ARMS. 5 
 
 drawing of nature's plan. We should follow, not 
 Frobel, but the child, and make up our system 
 with a breadth commensurate with the infinite 
 play of its unfolding faculties. 
 
 BABY'S OBJECT LESSON. 
 
 THE babe- in the swinging cradle 
 
 Lifts his fair, dimpled hand, 
 All rosy and soft, and waving 
 
 With a gesture of command. 
 
 His blue eyes gaze in wonder 
 At the tapering fingers spread 
 
 Who knows what dawning fanci 
 They waken in his head ? 
 
 He sees them glow in the sunshine, 
 He watches their shadows dim, 
 
 While he hears the tender music 
 His mother sings to him. 
 
 Fair dream of form and color, 
 Of motion and beauty bright, 
 
 Of light and shadow and music, 
 Of rhythmic, true delight. 
 
 Now the pretty lesson is over, 
 The dainty hand drops low, 
 
 The curtain of sleep is falling 
 On all that the babe may know 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 AFTER THE KINDERGARTEN. 
 
 HERE is a class fresh from the awakening love- 
 training of the kindergarten, and ready for the 
 next step in the beautiful unfolding of a true edu- 
 cation. Their observing and constructive facul- 
 ties are all alive and waiting for material to grasp 
 and use. Shall they go on with plays and mere 
 preparation still, or 'shall we give them more essen- 
 tial work to do, the discovery of the elements 
 of science, the ground-work of all the compli- 
 cated system of human knowledge ? 
 
 If we observe such a class of children, we shall 
 find their senses on the alert and their memory 
 very impressible and retentive. They see, and 
 love to. see, the most minute details, and are sus- 
 ceptible of much training in making special obser- 
 vations ; they also learn facts easily, and the mem- 
 ory stores up permanently all in which they 
 have an active interest. Now is the time for 
 their senses to observe, and for the memory to 
 
 6 
 
AFTER THE KINDERGARTEN. 7 
 
 make a lasting impression of what is observed. The 
 education of the senses should be carried on in 
 the legitimate field of observation, the material 
 works of Nature. The eye should be trained to 
 discern form, color, size, motion ; the ear to hear 
 and discriminate varieties of sound, and all the 
 senses to occupy themselves in gathering informa- 
 tion. What a store of facts may be discovered 
 and laid up in the mind for future arrangement ! 
 Animate and inanimate Nature an open book, 
 
 plants and animals, earths, rocks, clouds, and 
 stars, invite the senses to examine, inspire the 
 child with a thirst for the knowledge that may be 
 gained by his original observation. He wants to 
 learn for himself, to work with his own tools ; 
 nothing escapes his memory which is so graven in 
 by a lively interest. A chance must be given him 
 to see, to hear, or to handle something of the 
 world about him. Select for him specimens, put 
 them before him the snow, the rain, ice, wind, 
 
 lead him to find out what he can of them, with- 
 out telling him ; spring comes, the trees beckon, 
 the birds call, breezes entice, perfumes allure ; 
 take him into the woods, as Mr. Emerson took his 
 classes, show him the leaves till he learns their 
 
HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 distinctive points, till his eye grows quick to 
 count the pine-needles in their sheaths by twos 
 and threes and fives, till his ear detects the shades 
 of tone which the differing foliage gives to /Eolian 
 breezes ; or follow Agassiz to the islands and 
 shores, with dredge and microscopes, and let the 
 learner make discoveries there. No living or un- 
 living thing within his grasp, on land or sea, 
 eludes the examination of his senses. What is 
 there in all the books so valuable to him as what 
 he will learn without them ? To philosophize and 
 systematize ? that he may postpone. Fill his cells 
 with honey first, and the future pupa will thrive in 
 time. 
 
 I am more and more convinced that children 
 should be led into these pleasant paths of natural 
 observation very early, while they have a marked 
 love for it, to find that the revelation of knowledge 
 is direct to each one that hungers and thirsts for 
 it, and it is the first business of the teacher to 
 create this hunger by putting appetizing food 
 before the scholar, not cramming it down his 
 throat in doses of books ; let him look at the 
 beautiful fruit until his mouth waters for it ; let 
 him taste it by so much as he can put into his 
 
AFTER THE KINDERGARTEN. 9 
 
 own mouth at once, and he will learn to love it, 
 and will not be satisfied but with more and more 
 as he is able to digest it. The teacher is with 
 him, not to examine for him, not to force the 
 result of another's observation upon him, not even 
 to examine him, but to direct his senses, to stimu- 
 late his desire, to present the essential points of 
 the object before him, and to preserve an underly- 
 ing method in his observations of which he is as 
 yet unconscious ; so there will be little need of 
 mere recitation. Will the child forget a secret of 
 Nature which she herself has revealed to him ? 
 Never ; he is more receptive and patiently observ- 
 ant then he will ever be again if this opportunity 
 is neglected. 
 
 But when shall the primer and the arithmetic 
 be brought in ? shall not the child now learn to 
 read and count ? Yes, this is indeed the time, 
 before he is impatient of little things, for him to 
 acquire, by a simple act of his ready and enduring 
 memory, many things which must be gained, and 
 are better gained, at the start. But excite his 
 enjoyment in learning by sympathy and activity, 
 combine concerted and audible repetition with 
 physical exercise, mind, body, and soul all 
 
10 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 working together as they should ; his constructive- 
 ness helps him to put letters and sounds together, 
 to build up syllables, words, and sentences, to 
 commit to memory changes in the forms of words, 
 as the conjugations and declensions, and to be- 
 come familiar, after Sauveur's method, with words 
 and phrases in other languages than his own. 
 How much of all this may be made a pastime and 
 be all the more thoroughly acquired for future use, 
 and thus the foundation be laid for a true and 
 generous culture ! 
 
 There are such great differences in children as 
 to their apprehension of moral truths, still more of 
 spiritual truths, that the work must be quite indi- 
 vidual in this development ; but what a healthy 
 inspiration, perhaps creative power, comes from 
 all this study of Nature ! With a reverent guide, 
 they feel the nearness and the goodness of the 
 wise and loving All-Father in all that they search 
 into ; they trace his thought there, and learn to 
 love him ; a perception grows within them of 
 something he is ready to whisper to their secret 
 hearts, until they listen for that conscience-word 
 and let it govern them. Such recognition is the 
 germ of all spiritual life, I had almost said its 
 
AFTER THE KINDERGARTEN. II 
 
 flower, and is waiting to spring up in the heart 
 of childhood ; it takes root in deep principles of 
 life, and grows into virtue, regulating the instincts 
 more surely than precepts, and developing the 
 highest character much better than arbitrary codes. 
 To bring my thoughts to a focus on this sub- 
 ject, what shall be attempted for the child who 
 comes from the kindergarten all ready to learn, 
 but as yet unacquainted with books ? I answer, 
 all, and more than all, that may be found in ele- 
 mentary treatises in every department of natural 
 science may be given him in object-lessons, in a 
 comparatively short time, with what is of vastly 
 more importance an enthusiastic love for these 
 studies, a habit of careful observation, and a train- 
 ing of the senses which shall be a great addition 
 to his power in science, art, or practical life. He 
 may at the same time lay up in his memory the 
 ground facts of written and spoken language and 
 mathematics. Then, by natural stages, he will 
 turn with avidity to records of the observations of 
 others, until a conception of arrangement, general- 
 ization, and inference will grow up within him, the 
 dawn of a higher epoch in the harmonious educa- 
 tion of the mind. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING. 
 
 I HAD the good-fortune, at the opening of the 
 last school year, to receive a class of little girls, 
 whose only previous school-training had been in a 
 well conducted kindergarten. Of course, they 
 were wide-awake, and fresh for study ; they made 
 about half of a class of girls, of from eight to 
 fourteen years of age. We studied United States 
 History, with Higginson's text-book, which we 
 read, reviewed, and discussed, until I think they 
 had quite a clear vision of the course of events 
 in this country for two hundred years ; certainly, 
 they were thoroughly interested in the subject, so 
 that they listened eagerly to any additional details 
 or accounts I could give them, reading three or 
 four interesting books on the subject of the earlier 
 history, and examining the pictures in Lossing's 
 Field-books and Catlin's " North American Ind- 
 ians " ; they also read, of their own account, 
 
 12 
 
A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING. 13 
 
 other fragmentary histories or tales in connec- 
 tion. We went through Dickens' " Child's His- 
 tory of England " in the same way, with a great 
 many illustrations from various sources. We had 
 the prominent points of Greek and Roman My- 
 thology in oral lessons, reading aloud most of 
 " The Age of Fable," of which excellent abstracts 
 were written, con amore, making an exercise and 
 study which proved most fascinating to them. 
 
 We reviewed " Miss Hall's Primary Geogra- 
 phy," which had been read to them at the kinder- 
 garten, and with globe and photographic views 
 kindled their interest to a flame, and passed on to 
 the higher geography, which we prefaced with oral 
 lessons in astronomy, and made our way nearly 
 through the geography of the United States, com- 
 mitting the text to memory, and drawing maps, 
 but occupying ourselves chiefly with imaginary 
 travels and plays at trade and commerce, until the 
 unity and interchange of different localities and 
 countries were well understood and we found 
 unfailing zeal and vivacity pervading the recita- 
 tions. 
 
 Elementary grammar was evolved from their 
 own unconscious knowledge of the language ; 
 
14 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 and when their statements were put in systematic 
 order on the blackboard, I showed them, to their 
 surprise and delight, that they had already known 
 all that was contained in " Greene's Introduc- 
 tion," and could parse any sentence not too com- 
 plicated for their perfect comprehension. Who 
 that had seen their enthusiastic joy at this discov- 
 ery could have remanded them back to the old 
 treadmill of grammar lessons ? Dictation exer- 
 cises and composition they became very fond of, 
 under somewhat the same method of instruction. 
 
 In reading and spelling we kept up a con- 
 stant exercise, by every conceivable variation of 
 means, especially dwelling upon exact enunciation 
 and natural expression ; and we had weekly recita- 
 tions in good poetry, which were attended to care- 
 fully, wich some instruction in cloculion. 
 
 As to mathematics, we had mental exercises as 
 often as seemed advisable, but it was necessary to 
 restrain their excitement by irregular attention to 
 it, though they became very quick and skilful in 
 rapid calculation. We studied Numeration, in- 
 cluding, of course, Decimals, and Addition, Sub- 
 traction, Multiplication, and Division, applying 
 these fundamental principles to parts of numbers, 
 
A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING. 15 
 
 as well as to simple and denominate numbers, 
 thereby covering the subjects of Fractions, Deci- 
 mals, United States Money, Compound Numbers, 
 Metric System, and simple algebraic quantities. 
 We took up Percentage, and some of its applica- 
 tions, where the close of the year left us, having 
 treated the subject thus far simply as varied appli- 
 cations of the rules of Numeration, Addition, and 
 Subtraction, always deducing the rule from a clear 
 comprehension of the method. I need not say 
 that all thoroughly enjoyed the study, and are 
 
 anxious to go on. 
 
 The spring or summer term we devoted to the 
 study of nature. The children became quite 
 familiar with " How Plants Grow," with which 
 they reviewed Botany, after oral lessons on Miss 
 Youmans' plan, analyzing flowers readily, and en- 
 joying much of the higher and more delightful 
 developments of the study, which they remem- 
 bered after once learning: e.g., the propagation 
 of the orchid ; the properties of tendrils ; the 
 multiplication ol cells, etc. ; for it is the opening 
 of these intricate and beautiful vistas before them 
 which most excites their thirst for investigation. 
 
 We studied the forest trees of New England, 
 
16 now SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT* 
 
 through Mr. Emerson's book and by walks into 
 the living woods, and examination of specimens. 
 We absorbed all that " Morse's First Book of 
 Zoology" could give us; also Mrs. Agassiz's little 
 book on Seashore Curiosities, besides reading 
 works on Land Snails, Butterflies, and other in- 
 sects. We had oral lessons, well reviewed by 
 written abstracts, and drawings from " Land and 
 Game Birds of New England," so that summer 
 found us with our arms stretched out, and our 
 eyes and hearts and minds open to embrace her 
 beauties of wood and field and seashore. Physi- 
 ology was thoroughly studied as far as is usual in 
 our high schools, and proved not at all above their 
 comprehension and lively interest. 
 
 Drawing was practised successfully under a 
 special teacher, and some of the class developed a 
 decided love and taste for it, making copies of 
 flowers or animals which were quite worth mount- 
 ing and using as gifts. 
 
 Besides these English branches, they all learned 
 to talk French with a charmingly pure and cor- 
 rect accent under a native teacher, whose manner 
 was most inspiring to the class : they went nearly 
 through Sauveur's " Causeries avec mes Enfants," 
 
A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING. 1 7 
 
 and learned a few of Fontaine's fables by heart, 
 conversing about them easily with their teacher. 
 They could play a French game quite prettily and 
 intelligibly, and learned by rote the auxiliary 
 verbs and verbs of the first conjugation. They 
 studied German by much the same method, finally 
 reading, with considerable ease and delight, 
 " Grimm's Tales " in the original. 
 
 This is a careful and not overdrawn summary 
 of what was done from September 15 to June 15, 
 inclusive, with a class averaging about ten years of 
 age, with very little out-of-school study, and great 
 enjoyment. Our promise for next year is to con- 
 tinue French, German, and Drawing, commence 
 Latin and General History, take up Astronomy 
 and Uranography in oral lessons, and continue 
 Geography with Miss Hall's work, making it coin- 
 cident in outline with our study of history, as 
 was, I am told, Miss Hall's original plan for her 
 book. We shall go as far with the details of 
 Grammar and the construction of the language as 
 the interest and intelligence of the class can be 
 led, and introduce them to the study of English 
 Literature. We shall continue Mathematics, in- 
 cluding Arithmetic, Algebra, and Geometry, only 
 
1 8 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 as far as they can see the reason for the method 
 of operation ; for I by no means agree with Presi- 
 dent Hill, in giving children rules to learn without 
 the idea which informs them, or leading them 
 blindfold, by painful steps, to the temple of learn- 
 ing. We shall pursue Spelling, Reading, and 
 Writing, by constant but not tiresome drill, and, 
 with oral lessons on various subjects bearing on 
 their main studies, I hope to advance the class as 
 much in love of study, desire to learn, develop- 
 ment of their faculties, and attainment of knowl- 
 edge, as I feel confident has been done in the past 
 year. 
 
 I should not omit to say that no constraint of 
 any kind was ever put upon the children, to secure 
 their effective attention and study or for their 
 good behavior ; no motive of emulation was intro- 
 duced, to urge them on at the expense of their 
 love for each other ; no rules of manner or morals 
 were given them, except those they voluntarily 
 deduced from what they saw to be the necessary 
 conditions of attentive study and good manners. 
 I am free to say, in recommendation of this 
 method of education, that it awakens and develops 
 the mind and character and stimulates the love of 
 
A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING. 1 9 
 
 learning to an unusual degree ; and I cannot re- 
 sist the conviction that to inspire the young with 
 an enthusiastic desire to know all that God has 
 offered to their comprehension, to give their 
 powers full play in all these infinitely radiating 
 channels of study, making learning a delight, in 
 some cases almost an ecstasy, is the plan of na- 
 ture in the development of a child's being. 
 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE OPENING SCHOOL. 
 
 GOD gives you these, his temples, you believe : 
 Fresh, healthful forms of beauty, soul-lit eyes, 
 
 All avenues of knowledge, to receive 
 
 Hints of himself, to grow pure, good, and wise ; 
 
 O, make their lives his home ! keep integral 
 
 This rhythmic, triune being, body, mind, and soul ! 
 
 IT is near nine o'clock : the teacher awaits her 
 class in their sunny rooms, and sits near the 
 organ, with her little two-year-old in her lap look- 
 ing at pictures. One by one the fresh, pleasant 
 girls come in, greeting little Belle and her mother 
 with kisses and cheery salutations. There is no 
 constraint or reluctance in their glad and affec- 
 tionate manner. 
 
 Soon the hour arrives, and, at the touch of the 
 bell, they take their seats, not with military 
 precision certainly, nor invariably with immediate 
 silence, but with the spirit of good order ; the 
 hush comes soon of itself, and, while Minnie or 
 Alice plays the accompaniment, all sing a hymn, 
 
 20 
 
THE OPENING SCHOOL. 21 
 
 usually suggested by the teacher, but often by 
 one or another of the scholars ; in most cases it is 
 a prayer, and is evidently understood by all as a 
 direct appeal to the unseen One, whom they love. 
 Young girls are, with rare exceptions, religious in 
 their nature. In them the senses of the soul are 
 as pure and delicate as those of the body ; they 
 see divine realities and hear divine voices, espe- 
 cially the voice of conscience, if not hindered 
 by those whose "hearts have waxed gross," and 
 whose " ears are dull of hearing," and whose eyes 
 have closed. How easy to recognize with them, 
 the presence of God! how lovely the sight of 
 their bright, open faces, hallowed by an unwaver- 
 ing and uncorrupted faith, like flowers of the 
 mornjjig, upturned to the glowing heavens and 
 
 the pure air ! 
 Sometimes two or three hymns are sung, and 
 occasionally the children recite together some 
 thanksgiving, or petition, or ascription of praise 
 from the Bible. In connection with the study of 
 the outward works of nature, the Psalm cxlviii. 
 comes like an inspiration from their understand- 
 ing hearts and eager lips, and sounds, as they 
 repeat it together, like a paean of consecration. 
 
HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 They have no postures or conventionalities before 
 the Spirit of God, nor does the teacher attempt to 
 conceal the attitude of her own heart, whatever it 
 may be, nor does she refrain from uttering any 
 aspiration, as beyond the sympathies of the chil- 
 dren, but the thought and feeling of the hour 
 flow between her and them unfettered. 
 
 Now little Belle has to go, since she tunes her 
 baby voice too long ; so she says her " Good-bye," 
 to which there is quick response as she throws 
 her kisses back in departing, and the quiet group 
 turn to the Gospel-reading with unfeigned inter- 
 est. There is more or less comment as they read, 
 singly or in concert, and geographical or historical 
 associations are recalled, or a deeper tone is taken 
 in drawing their thoughts to the spiritual lesson. 
 But the Bible-reading is carried on with frequent 
 variation of method : in connection with the study 
 of Ancient History it was made a panorama of 
 Hebrew history and its correlations with other 
 nations, and the strong pictures that mark 
 different epochs were thrown out before them 
 with great freedom of selection. Sometimes the 
 teacher reads from the French or German Testa- 
 ment, while the children follow each verse with 
 
THE OPENING SCHOOL. 23 
 
 concert-reading of the English ; for quite a long 
 time each pupil had in turn the charge of select- 
 ing and reading the lesson and the hymn. 
 
 Now, if there is any special message to these 
 loving young souls from the mother's heart that 
 tries to guide them, it is given, with brevity and 
 tender directness, out of her faith or out of her 
 experience of life, or from her standard of good 
 manners and refined feeling, any yearning 
 toward the beautiful possibilities of their nature, 
 she expresses it with at least an earnest sym- 
 pathy and a magnetic impulse of desire which is 
 never wholly disappointed in their responsive con- 
 sider"ation and reception. 
 
 "Truth " is the motto of the school, truth in 
 essence and in manner. Last year they had their 
 badges embroidered in gold, " Die Wahrheit " ; 
 this year the word "Truth" is printed there 
 instead, and is understood to be the talisman of 
 their endeavor. They are taught to avoid disguise 
 and insincerity, and to regulate the sources of 
 emotion, that its involuntary expression may be 
 right. If there is an amusing suggestion or force 
 in the accidents of any exercise, they are allowed 
 to laugh without restraint, and it never really dis- 
 
24 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 turbs the mood or seriously interrupts the atten- 
 tion ; for a spontaneous smile or hearty laugh, 
 which is not pent in, passes with the instant, and 
 healthfully relieves the feelings. 
 
 No time is needed for the calling of the roll or 
 the hearing of excuses, as no occasion has yet 
 arisen for any exactions in regard to attendance, 
 and a vacancy among the beaming faces is dis- 
 covered and explained at once ; so at the touch of 
 the bell, the class separates into its distinctive 
 rooms for the more specific training of the mind. 
 
 It is needless to say to other teachers that 
 the high ideal of the controlling mind is never 
 reached ; but it is confidently believed that the 
 teacher must be superior to the arts of discipline 
 and rules of method, and must mould the fine 
 material before her chiefly by native force of 
 soul. 
 
 It has been a difficult task to portray the intan- 
 gible influences that enter into the fifteen, twenty, 
 or thirty minutes of the opening of the school ; 
 but if the home-element shall seem predominant, 
 the attempt will not have proved altogether a 
 failure. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE KEY-NOTE. 
 
 %/ 
 
 As I carried in my mind the theme of this 
 paper, my eye met a paragraph in the September 
 Teacher, which is so forcible and concise an ex- 
 pression of what I feel to be the motif 'of my " exper- 
 iment in teaching," that I might use it as a text : 
 " The object of education ought to be to develop 
 in the individual all the perfection of which he is 
 capable." Kant. As the Delphic oracle in- 
 structed Cicero to "follow Nature, and not take 
 the opinion of the multitude for his guide," so, 
 more and more, do intuition and experience say to 
 the teacher of children, " Attune your ear to the 
 whispers of Nature that you may discern the 
 secret of education. " 
 
 As a mother, I am most concerned that each 
 child in the embrace of home shall receive from 
 me what it needs for its physical, mental, and 
 
 2 5 
 
26 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 moral development. There is great diversity in 
 this small circle ; a difference of temperament, 
 of tendencies, of tastes, of natural powers, and 
 natural wants. I must administer to each, adapt 
 myself to each, meet each on its own track. So, 
 in a school, the teacher must be as the mother, 
 to devise and provide for each one ; she must dis- 
 cern the native stamp of the individual pupil, the 
 character of its organization. When she is thor- 
 oughly acquainted with the child, has drawn near 
 to it in an atmosphere of loving appreciation, and 
 placed herself en rapport with its intrinsic being, 
 then she is prepared to teach it ; and her teaching 
 on that footing will be not merely the work of the 
 recitation-hour, nor of some departments of in- 
 struction, but a deep influence acting everywhere ; 
 whether in school or out of school, acting, as I 
 can bear witness, through the whole lifetime of 
 that child, and the subject of a life-long gratitude. 
 Nature emphatically forbids me to try the 
 mechanical process, which treats children in the 
 aggregate, and seeks to produce a dead-level of 
 uniformity in the school ; Nature warns me from 
 merely conventional ruts and unthinking manner- 
 isms. My mother-heart knows better than this. 
 
THE KEY-NOTE. 2? 
 
 Do I want my child made like every other child ? 
 No, a thousand times! Let her be herself, 
 trained, developed, ennobled, but always herself ; 
 her individuality perfect, her identity complete ; 
 for, though millions of children arise in the land, 
 there will never be another like this one. I want 
 to see her face glow with the radiance which can 
 be lit on no other brow, and her soul dressed in 
 the beautiful garments which were prepared for 
 her from the foundation of the world. Let those 
 who teach her consult the oracle of her nature, 
 discover the hints within her as to what sort of 
 woman she should become, never lose sight of her 
 in the crowd, nor confound her with her neighbor ; 
 but keep her undistorted, uncramped, ungraded, 
 her being wrought upon according to God's 
 pattern for her alone. This is what I ask for my 
 child, and therefore what I demand of myself as 
 the teacher of some other mother's child. Her 
 child is as unique as mine ; I must make no 
 encroachment on its ideal individuality, nor at- 
 tempt to trim and fit its original powers to an 
 unyielding standard. The school of the rule and 
 plumb is a machine-shop ; with its constant meas- 
 urements and tests, its ranks and examinations, it 
 
28 ffO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 grinds down these clear-cut crystals of mind into 
 a dead mass ; it stops to pour all the brains within 
 its reach through a weekly sieve, till all distinctive 
 qualities are lost, and not one of the fine units 
 can be distinguished from the still disintegrated 
 whole. 
 
 Why is it thought necessary to know and 
 exhibit the comparative progress and attainment 
 constantly ? Is it possible for us to put one mind 
 so by another as to decide " this is higher," " that 
 is lower " ? Brain-power has too many outlets 
 and modes of growth to be subjected to such 
 crude valuations. I will have no comparisons 
 made among my children. I will allow none in 
 my school ; the only relative test I will put is the 
 test of conscience, Do you rank well in the 
 scale of your possibilities ? 
 
 In a small private school, such as has been dis- 
 cussed in these papers, there is, perhaps, an unu- 
 sual inequality in powers and attainments. It 
 often happens that a child who is peculiar, or 
 who has had an exceptional course of training or 
 want of training, one whose health requires 
 singular care, or whose education has been from 
 some cause irregularly carried on, is placed in 
 
THE KEY-NOTE. 2Q 
 
 such a " select " school. The class, thus made 
 up of difficult and heterogeneous elements, can 
 hardly be treated as a whole, and yet, in externals, 
 it must be to some extent a unit ; but with the 
 subtle insight and magnetic forces which the 
 teacher, as well as the physician, requires and 
 must be able to command, we must treat each 
 mind as distinctly as a skilful physician would 
 treat each separate patient. We must perceive 
 and appreciate the instant want and difficulty in 
 each case, and with imperceptible and sometimes 
 unconscious skill keep each mind supplied and 
 alive. Yes, let us keep each mind alive before 
 us, breathing vitalizing air from the realm in 
 which we are acting as guide or priestess, and 
 then, indeed, we are doing our whole work as 
 teachers. If I try to awaken in each child within 
 my keeping the activities of which it is capable, 
 develop the gifts with which nature has endowed 
 it, round out and perfect the being in its indi- 
 vidual beauty, finish the typical design, and assist 
 the creative purpose in the formation of that 
 soul, what more absorbing interest or responsi- 
 bility can I assume? If I appreciate it, I shall 
 bring all the enthusiasm and sympathy of my 
 
30 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT* 
 
 nature, as well as all the attainments of my life, 
 to bear upon it. 
 
 And as in the educational economy of Christian- 
 ity we find a most exact model for such a method, 
 the teacher having secret sympathy and power 
 with each disciple, so is it not possible that the 
 parallel may be extended ; and, even in our far- 
 distant following of His ways of working, the 
 phenomenon of seeming miracle may still present 
 itself, miracle which is only the normal result 
 of a deeper understanding with nature ; a result 
 which, for merely mechanical and superficial 
 methods, is simply impossible. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ARITHMETIC. 
 
 WE believe in the importance of accuracy and 
 rapidity in all simple mental operations, and the 
 arithmetic classes are, therefore, exercised, some- 
 times individually, oftener in concert, in this 
 work, until they can sustain quite a protracted 
 succession of mathematical operations, including 
 many which, being performed by contraction, 
 sound much more difficult than they are, so 
 that an examination of the class in presence of 
 visitors will cause quite a sensation, and a feeling 
 that some wonderful feat has been accomplished ; 
 but the facility is very easily acquired. 
 
 In beginning the study of written arithmetic, 
 the writing and reading of numbers is taught so 
 that the system of a uniform ratio of ten is clear, 
 and appeals to their logical sense. This includes 
 decimal fractions, which are nothing else but a 
 legitimate and integral part of the system. It is 
 
 3 1 
 
32 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 just as simple a matter to carry on the decrease 
 by tens to the right of the decimal point as at the 
 left ; let us not interrupt the unity of the standard 
 of numeration. The use of the cipher should be 
 made very plain, for it gives a key to the position 
 of the numerical classes. Who that was in the 
 class of arithmetic under the instruction of Mr. 
 Stearns, in the West Newton Normal School, has 
 forgotten the emphasis of that oft-repeated state- 
 ment, "The cipher means simply that there is 
 nothing here"? The idea and manner of chang- 
 ing figures of one kind to those of another, either 
 by this system of tens or by one of twelves, or by 
 others of varied ratios, can be made plain and 
 fixed clearly in the mind, and much of the 
 succeeding work is simplified when this is done. 
 It becomes an easy matter to teach addition and 
 subtraction of any figures or quantities after the 
 axiom is thoroughly established, that only things 
 of the same kind can be added or subtracted. 
 
 After plenty of drill in these operations the 
 class is led to discover, by repeated and regular 
 additions and subtractions, the multiplication and 
 division tables, which should never be given as an 
 arbitary standard or invention of man, but only as 
 
ARITHMETIC. 33 
 
 a statement of inherent properties which are just 
 as much within their original observations as any 
 other facts of nature. It is astonishing how 
 much of arithmetic a child can discover if placed 
 at the right outlook. 
 
 Of course, although the instruction can be 
 carried thus far in a short time, so that the pupils 
 may be said to know and understand the princi- 
 ples, yet a long time is requisite for skill and ease 
 in practice. Simple numbers, compound num- 
 bers, decimals, United States money, metric 
 system, duodecimals, proportions, and fractions, 
 put down as so many distinct arithmetical sub- 
 jects in most text-books, and alarming on that 
 account, are but the variety of material on which 
 to expend all this practice in reduction, addition, 
 and subtraction ; and this practice should be 
 vitalized by the interest of personality. Trade is 
 very attractive to children. " Oh I admire bills," 
 says Mabel ; and Bertha remarks, " Mamma 
 always takes us shopping with her now, to see 
 that she gets the right change." They go shop- 
 ping with money in their pockets, our easy 
 currency ; they cross the water and flock into a 
 London shop, with pounds, shillings, and pence, 
 
34 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 and Maggie very pertinently inquires why the 
 German and the French money are left out of the 
 arithmetic. They learn to manage the grocer's, 
 the apothecary's, and the dry-goods standards of 
 measure, and hope that the day will soon arrive 
 when the gram, the metre, and the litre will take 
 their place. 
 
 The properties of numbers, factors, the 
 greatest common divisor, the least common 
 multiple, can be presented and understood as 
 something quite interesting, and fractions can 
 be dealt with in the light of that essential princi- 
 ple, that quantities must be made of a like kind 
 in order to be added or subtracted, so that all 
 their difficulties vanish, and the method can be 
 easily discovered by the children. All these can 
 be introduced incidentally, and conquered natur- 
 ally and unconsciously, until the mind of the pupil 
 becomes familiar with them. Why need they be 
 announced with the clamoring bugbear of a new 
 title ? Experiment and induction will lead the 
 pupil into all these processes, under a little tact 
 and skill on the part of the teacher. 
 
 It is best to avoid the rules and remarks in the 
 books ; the books are of no use to the teacher 
 
ARITHMETIC. 35 
 
 except for the examples, and even there it adds 
 much interest for the pupils to invent examples 
 to some extent. The rule in the formidable 
 terminology of the books is a snag that will 
 founder any little bark, however fairly launched ; 
 as a summary, when the child is quite familiar 
 with the operation,, it may serve a fair purpose, 
 and is easily explained, but beware of it any 
 further in the child's mathematical career! 
 
 Proportion should be made a form of writing 
 fractions, and both presented as an expression of 
 division. Interest, in all its branches, is no more 
 a part of arithmetic than renting a house or any 
 other transaction involving money, and based on 
 the arbitrary determinations of the exchange or 
 the statutes ; but, being subject to the application 
 of arithmetical processes, stands connected with 
 the science as astronomy and mechanics do with 
 the higher mathematics. 
 
 The pupils must understand this very clearly ; 
 viz., that arithmetic is learned when the proper- 
 ties of numbers and the methods of addition and 
 subtraction are mastered ; that all the rest is but 
 its application to trade and business and science, 
 for the square and cube root, involution and 
 
3' HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 evolution, should be relegated to algebra and 
 geometry, where they belong. 
 
 How simple and attractive is the study of 
 numbers inductively considered and stripped of 
 all its excrescences ! all the various and sounding 
 lists of the index resolve themselves into a few 
 simple outlines, of which the various sub-divisions 
 only furnish material for the pupil to work upon 
 with the tools which the unencumbered science 
 of arithmetic puts into his hands. 
 
 THE CLASS IN ARITHMETIC. ITS FIRST INTRO- 
 DUCTION TO COMPOUND NUMBERS. 
 
 Maggie, Bertha, Mabel, Louie, Carrie, Anna, Alice, Gertrude, Lillie; all from 
 eight to ten years old. 
 
 Teacher. There sits Emmie, looking at her 
 ivy. Beg pardon, Emmie ; but where did you get 
 that dress ? 
 
 Emmie. My auntie bought it when we were 
 in London ; it is a Scotch dress. 
 
 Teacher. So I thought. It is very pretty. 
 Did she pay for it in dollars and cents ? 
 
 Emmie. No 'm ; it cost eighteen shillings in 
 English money. 
 
ARITHMETIC. 
 
 Bertha. Oh, I know about English 
 Clara bought us a great many things in Lon< 
 and she told me all about it. 
 
 Maggie. I should like to go shopping there ; 
 how funny ! 
 
 TeacJier. Well, let's go this morning. Play 
 we are in London. Have you any money in your 
 pockets ? I will say your fathers have given you 
 each ^3 to spend ; but I am glad, for your con- 
 venience, it isn't all in pound-notes, but a two- 
 pound-note, eighteen shilling-pieces, and twenty- 
 four pence, one of which is worth nearly two 
 cents. 
 
 Mabel. Why, is that the same as three 
 pounds ? 
 
 Teacher. Yes, if I reckoned rightly. It takes 
 twelve pence to make a shilling, and twenty shil- 
 lings to make a pound. Let us write it down. 
 Twenty-four pence would then be two shillings, 
 and those, added to eighteen shillings, make twenty 
 shillings, just the one pound we need to make, 
 with the two-pound note, three pounds. Now, we 
 will buy some pretty things for our friends, this 
 morning. Nella, do you remember the exhibit of 
 English pottery at the Centennial ? " Yes " ; well, 
 
3 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 as it is the fashion to buy such things, let us go 
 into this large warehouse of "James Stiff & Sons," 
 and choose our purchases. You may say, in turn, 
 what you will buy. 
 
 Mabel. I want a majolica tete-a-tete set for my 
 mother, on which I can take up her supper when 
 she is sick. 
 
 Teacher. Very well ; I write that down here, 
 while those who know may describe the majolica 
 ware. [The description is quite full and plain 
 from two or three.] I will say that the price of 
 it is ;i i2s. 
 
 Bertha. I will take two terra-cotta vases. 
 
 Teacher. Describe them, Bertha ; you say 
 you have two or three terra-cotta ornaments at 
 home. I will put your purchase down under 
 Mabel's; it comes to I2s. 
 
 Louie. I would like a few handsome tiles for 
 Auntie May. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, four Staffordshire tiles come to 
 8s. [Alice, Gertrude, and Lillie don't know what 
 they want, and, as they are younger, the teacher 
 chooses for them : A pretty tea-pot for Alice's 
 mother, called a Rockingham tea-pot, for which 
 she must pay ics. ; a Parian statuette of Cupid 
 
ARITHMETIC. 39 
 
 for Gertrude's purchase, worth i 6s. ; and a 
 beautiful platter, of Lambeth pottery, worth 
 i 1 8s., for Lillie to give her papa.] 
 
 Anna. Oh ! can I buy some of those lovely 
 little majolica butter-dishes ? I know they cost 
 $4 a dozen here. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, indeed ; here are some like 
 fern-leaves, and some like shells, they are only 
 i os. a dozen. 
 
 Anna. Then I want a table ornament, too, in 
 that flowered china, or that with birds on it. 
 
 Teacher. We will put it down : Butter-dishes, 
 IDS. ; table ornament, in Faience ware, ,1 I2s. 
 
 Maggie. What shall I have ? I can't think. 
 
 Bertha. Oh, Maggie ! you and Carrie get 
 some fruit medallions for your mother to hang in 
 the dining-room. I have seen them ; they are as 
 nice as pictures. 
 
 Teacher. Very well ; Carrie and Maggie get 
 three medallions each for 2 a half-dozen, you 
 will have to divide the expense afterward. 
 Maggie may pay it now. I will buy two dozen 
 pretty cups for the scholars to keep on their 
 tables. The price is -i per dozen; how much 
 is that apiece ? 
 
4 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Anna. Well, I know what they would cost 
 apiece if they were a dollar a dozen ; but 
 
 Maggie. Well, can't we divide a pound by 
 twelve ? 
 
 Teacher. Of course; what does the pound 
 make twenty of ? 
 
 Several. Oh ! shillings ! change it to shillings. 
 
 BertJia. Twenty shillings divided by twelve is 
 one shilling and eight over. 
 
 Teacher. Now, change the eight shillings left 
 into pence, and divide that by twelve. In one 
 shilling there are twelve pence, so in eight shil- 
 lings there will be 
 
 All. Ninety-six pence. 
 
 Maggie. And twelve will go in ninety-six 
 eight times. 
 
 Bertha. It will be one shilling and eight 
 pence. 
 
 Teacher. What will ? 
 
 All. One of the cups. 
 
 Teacher. Do you understand, Carrie ? 
 
 Carrie. I sort of half do and half don't. 
 
 Teacher. Pretty soon you shall all be sure ; 
 but attend now to this. We will find out how 
 large our bill is at Messrs. Stiff's store : 
 
ARITHMETIC. 41 
 
 * 
 
 Majolica tete-a-tete set for Mabel . . . . 112 
 
 2 Terra-cotta vases for Bertha .... 12 
 
 4 Staffordshire tiles for Louie ....- 8 
 
 i Rockingham tea-pot for Alice .... 10 
 
 I Parian statuette for Gertrude .... I 6 
 
 I Lambeth Platter. for Lillie I 18 
 
 i Dozen Majolica butters for Anna . . , 10 
 
 1 Table ornament, Faience, for Anna . . 112 
 6 Medallions, Lambeth pottery, for Mag- 
 gie and Carrie ...20 
 
 2 Dozen cups for the teacher 20 
 
 Bertha. I admire bills. My mamma always 
 takes me shopping with her now, to reckon 
 quickly and find what change she ought to get. 
 
 Teacher. Bertha and Maggie may add these 
 pounds and shillings on the board, the rest on 
 their slates. Alice, Gertrude, and Carrie, come 
 close around me, and let me help you. Come, 
 too, if you want to, Lillie. [After five minutes' 
 work, all attend to the board.] 
 
 Carrie. Maggie's is added one way, and 
 Bertha's the other. Bertha's is like ours, so 
 Maggie's is wrong. 
 
4 2 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Maggie. No; my answer is just the same, 
 only I added the pounds first, and Bertha the 
 shillings. Is mine wrong, Mrs. ? 
 
 Teacher. No, Maggie ; but it is usual and 
 easier to add the smaller kinds first just as you 
 add the units before you do the tens. Well, you 
 add the shillings ; it makes 
 
 All. Eighty-eight shillings. 
 
 Teacher. And if every twenty shillings is a 
 pound, how many pounds are here ? 
 
 All. Four pounds and eight shillings. 
 
 Teacher. And what shall we do with the 
 pounds, Mabel ? 
 
 Mabel. Add them to the pounds, I should 
 think. 
 
 Bertha. Why, of course you do, and it makes 
 twelve pounds. 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; we have spent altogether 
 ,12 8s. Now, we will find out how much 
 change we should each have. Mabel had ^"3, 
 and spent ,1 I2s. ; she may find out, at the 
 board, what she has left. Bertha spent but I2s. 
 of hers, Louie only 8s. ; they may work theirs 
 out, too. 
 
 Mabel. Why, I don't know how to begin. 
 
ARITHMETIC. 43 
 
 Teacher. See how I write it down : 
 
 s- 
 
 2 2O 
 
 (Isn't 2 2Os. the same as $ ?) 112 
 
 i 8s. 
 
 Mabel. Yes, now I see. I shall have i 8s. 
 left. Oh, goody ! I can buy some more things. 
 
 Teacher. We will go into a lace and dry-goods 
 store another day ; so you must be prepared at 
 the next lesson to show what you wish to buy 
 there. 
 
 Bertha. I have 2 8s. left. I changed one 
 of my $ to shillings, and took my I2s. from it; 
 so, of course, I had 2 8s. left. 
 
 Teacher. Mabel, you may go show Carrie how 
 to find what she will have left ; Bertha may show 
 Alice, and Maggie may show any one else 
 Gertrude, if she will. [After all is clear in adding 
 and subtracting, the teacher gives them the table 
 of English money, which she has written in full on 
 the blackboard ; takes them through the process 
 of reduction and multiplication, which she finds 
 them quite ready to suggest for themselves, step 
 by step, and finally points out the dozen or half- 
 
44 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 dozen examples in English money scattered 
 through many pages of the arithmetic for them 
 to work out before the next lesson, telling them, 
 however, to be sure not to read over anything in 
 the book about it, and particularly no rules.] 
 
 Bertha. Are French money, and German 
 money, and all those, in the arithmetic ? 
 
 Teacher. No ; only English money. It is 
 not a part of arithmetic ; only one of the ways 
 of using arithmetic in trade. I don't know why 
 they put no other kind of money in the book for 
 you to work upon. 
 
 Lottie. Well, I didn't care about knowing it ; 
 for I never shall buy anything in England they 
 were so horrid in the Revolutionary War. 
 
 , TeacJier. The half-hour is over. You have 
 learned quite a good deal. They have some funny 
 names for it in the book. 
 
 Carrie. Please tell us what they are. 
 
 Teacher. Table of English Money, Reduction 
 Ascending, Reduction Descending, Addition of 
 Denominate Numbers ; also, Subtraction, Multi- 
 plication, and Division of Denominate Numbers. 
 [A shout of laughter.] 
 
 After this lesson, which was full of interest and 
 
ARITHMETIC. 45 
 
 conversation, of which only the outline is reported, 
 the class were exercised during subsequent les- 
 sons in making purchases, in inventing and work- 
 ing out examples, until every member of the class 
 was quite at home in the different processes with 
 English money, since which they find no diffi- 
 culty in applying the principles to any of the 
 tables of weights and measures ; although it is 
 not the intention of the teacher to keep them 
 long upon those standards, which, it is hoped, will 
 soon become obsolete, but to proceed at once to 
 the Metric System, which requires but a lesson or 
 two, as it is a decimal system, and its terminology 
 is so interesting. The class is warned off from 
 the rules, and anything in the book except the 
 examples, until the time comes for using the 
 rules as a summary of our discoveries. 
 
 CLASS IN ARITHMETIC. INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 FINANCE. 
 
 Alice, Minnie, Leila, Hattie, Helen, Ethel, Sarah, Alice; from n to 14 years old. 
 
 Teacher. You have studied Arithmetic and 
 its application to trade ; let us now attend to its 
 practical application to the most exciting business 
 
46 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 of city life. You know what gold and silver coin 
 is, and how it is used in exchange for all our 
 wants: what else do we have in our purses, 
 Hattie, that will purchase things ? 
 
 Hattie. Why, we have bank-bills. 
 
 Teacher. What makes these of any value, 
 more than any other paper ? (Showing a bank- 
 note.) Read it ; it is an agreement to pay five 
 dollars on demand. (The bill is examined by all.) 
 
 Minnie. Are all bank-bills like this ? 
 
 Teacher. They are substantially the same, 
 notes, with a promise to pay engraved on the face, 
 "promissory notes," or "notes of hand"; though 
 these names are given to similar promises which 
 are not current as money. You can get gold or 
 silver at a bank for these. What is a bank, 
 Alice ? 
 
 Alice. I think it is a sort of office. 
 
 Leila. It's a place to keep money in. 
 
 Hattie. Yes, I've seen the safe and the clock- 
 key, and they have piles and piles of money ! 
 Where do they get it ? 
 
 TeacJier. A bank is a company of men called 
 stock-holders, who have put a good deal of their 
 money together to make the " capital " of the 
 
ARITHMETIC. 47 
 
 bank ; they lend and borrow money. They 
 choose officers to do the work, and the two prin- 
 cipal officers (the President and Cashier) sign 
 their names to all these promises or bank-notes, 
 for a promise is good for nothing without a signa- 
 ture. The bank will keep your money safe for 
 you, or will lend you money if you pay for the use 
 of it ; some banks not only keep your money safe 
 for you, but pay you for the use of it while they 
 hold it, returning it to you with that profit or 
 interest. 
 
 Helen. I know, that is the Savings Bank. I 
 have $25 in it, and more is added to it every year. 
 
 Minnie. My uncle put $100 in the bank for 
 me last New Year's Day, and he means to put 
 more in every year, so that when I am grown up I 
 shall have a good deal. 
 
 Teacher. Let me show you how much interest 
 Helen's money gains every year. The bank pays 
 her six cents a year for every dollar she has there, 
 or six cents per hundred, six per cent. She 
 has $25.00 : how much will they pay her the first 
 year. 
 
 Alice. $1.50. 
 
 Teacher. Add it to the principal, $25.00; you 
 
4 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 have $26.50, the amount at the end of the first 
 year. Now this is the principal of the second 
 year, and what will be the interest the second 
 year ? 
 
 Helen. $1.59; and the amount will be $28.09. 
 
 Teacher. Right : get the amount for the third 
 year, all. 
 
 Ethel. $29. 7754. 
 
 Teacher. So you see that in three years 
 Helen's money has gained nearly $5.00. It is 
 better to keep your spare money in the savings 
 bank than in your house, for you get " compound 
 interest" on it; but if you lend your money to a 
 private person, he will pay you six per cent on 
 the original principal only, as long as he holds it, 
 or simple interest. The principal does not roll up. 
 
 Sarah. Why will he pay six per cent ? 
 
 Teacher. Because the use of money is a great 
 convenience, and worth paying for. However, 
 men do not invariably pay six per cent for it, 
 sometimes five or seven, etc. Suppose I borrow 
 $200 of Alice, how much shall I pay her for the 
 interest for one year at six per cent ? 
 
 Hattie. $ 1 2. oo. 
 
 Teacher. And if I keep it two years I pay her 
 
ARITHMETIC. 49 
 
 $24.00 of interest. If I keep it six months longer, 
 how much shall I pay ? 
 
 Leila. Six months is half a year ; and if you 
 pay her $12.00 for a year, you pay $6.00 for half a 
 year. 
 
 Teacher. And if I pay six cents on a dollar 
 per year, what must I pay per month, Helen ? 
 
 Helen. A month is a twelfth of a year ; so 
 you will pay a twelfth of six cents, or half a cent 
 per month. 
 
 Teacher. And if I pay half a cent a month, 
 what for one day ? 
 
 Alice. One-thirtieth of half a cent, or one- 
 sixtieth of a cent. 
 
 Teacher. What part of a mill ? 
 
 Ethel. One-sixth of a mill. 
 
 Teacher. Now, do you see that if you multi- 
 ply the number of years by six cents, of months 
 by half a cent, and of days by one-sixth of a 
 mill you will get the interest of one dollar for 
 the given time. How, then, shall you get the 
 interest of the principal for the given time at six 
 per cent ? 
 
 Leila. Multiply the interest of one year by 
 the principal. 
 
50 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Teacher. You may work out the problems in 
 simple and compound interest in the book, before 
 your next lesson. Sarah, did you ever go down 
 town, on Water Street, at 1 1 or 12 o'clock in the 
 forenoon ? If you have, you may have seen 
 almost all the rich men there, meeting one 
 another on the street, or in Mr. Burt's banking- 
 house, or elsewhere. They are the capitalists, 
 whose business is perhaps wholly with this ex- 
 change called money. , 
 
 Ethel. You could see them in New York, on 
 Wall Street. 
 
 Teacher. Perhaps they meet in a building 
 called The Exchange, or on a street where most 
 of the offices for money are located, where mer- 
 chants and financiers meet, " on 'change." 
 W T here did the old Romans meet ? 
 
 Minnie. In the Forum. 
 
 Helen. And in Venice they met on the 
 Rialto. 
 
 Ethel. And in New York they go to Wall 
 Street. 
 
 Teacher. At any of these places : what excite- 
 ment and hubbub ! At the Broker's Board in 
 New York it is almost like Bedlam ; it is the great 
 
ARITHMETIC. 5 1 
 
 absorbing interest about gold, or the changes in 
 the value of paper money, or of stocks, and you 
 would be hardly able to understand it all. But 
 you could see the feverish worry and contention, 
 they quarrel and shout. The " bulls " and the 
 " bears " (so called) try to raise the price of gold 
 or to lower it ; and. all are intensely concerned in 
 the rise and fall. Money is bought and sold, and 
 through all the varieties of business runs the fash- 
 ion of paying a percentage of the money-basis of 
 any operation to the one through whose hands it 
 passes. The commission merchants, the brokers, 
 the bankers, the tax-assessors, the insurance 
 agents, the custom-house officers, all apply this 
 principle of percentage in reckoning their gains 
 or losses, and working out their business. Ethel, 
 you know that Mr. Allen, collector of this port, 
 sends out the custom-house boat to every in-com- 
 ing ship : what for? 
 
 Ethel. Because he has to get the tax on all 
 the foreign goods that come here. 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; that tax is a fine imposed by 
 the government, poured into the public reve- 
 nue. Finance used to mean that, but now it 
 means all departments of business with money 
 
52 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 alone (and paper representing money) for the 
 stock in trade. The financiers are the men who 
 deal in money-notes, coin, stocks, shares, etc. 
 The bankers arrange loans of money ; negotiate 
 all sorts of operations depending on the money 
 market. 
 
 Alice. What are brokers ? 
 
 Teacher. First I will tell you about commis- 
 sion merchants. If a Western farmer has a great 
 quantity of produce that he wishes to sell, but can- 
 not take to market conveniently, he lets it go into 
 the hands of a man who is prepared to sell it for 
 him, and to whom he pays a certain percentage 
 of its value for the trouble of selling ; this is com- 
 mission paid to a commission merchant, who sells 
 the goods from his own wharf or warehouse. But 
 sometimes a man has goods that he must employ 
 another to sell for him, that cannot be trans- 
 ported, shares in the Wamsutta Mills, or stock 
 in a bank, or a share in the Old Colony Railroad, 
 or in some oil-well, or a house, or a part of a ship, 
 he gets a broker to sell it for him. If he is in 
 a large city," he employs a real-estate broker to sell 
 his house or land, a stock-broker to sell his stocks, 
 a gold-broker to sell his money, and a ship-broker 
 
ARITHMETIC. 53 
 
 to sell his ship; but here perhaps one man does 
 any one of all of these tnings. You see the 
 broker sells goods that do not come into his 
 hands, that are untransferable ; the commission 
 merchant sells transportable goods from his ware- 
 house. Both are paid a certain percentage, usu- 
 ally quite a small percentage, of the value of their 
 goods. 
 
 Minnie. I wish we could do that kind of 
 business. 
 
 Teacher. Minnie may be a commission mer- 
 chant at the next lesson ; Alice, a broker and 
 banker ; Helen, a custom-house collector ; Hat- 
 tie, cashier of a bank ; Sarah, an insurance agent, 
 to pay us for our houses when they are acciden- 
 tally destroyed, provided we pay her a percentage 
 of their value every year till then ; Alice may 
 collect the taxes on our property. Talk with any 
 one you know about these various kinds of busi- 
 ness, and we will see what forms and methods are 
 used in transacting them. We will find out by 
 degrees the secret of Finance. It's just like some 
 absorbing game in real life. It makes men grow 
 gray, and knit their brows ; but it won't do for 
 us to know nothing about it, though the fathers 
 
54 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 and husbands and brothers generally do it all 
 for us. 
 
 Helen. Isn't it queer to make such a fuss 
 about money ? it isn't really good for anything, 
 is it? 
 
 Teacher. No, its value is all made up or ficti- 
 tious ; it will not in itself do us any good, and 
 when we die it is all thrown away. The miser 
 forgets that, and I think the financiers forget it 
 too, sometimes. It is only the tool of trade. 
 Agriculture, manufacture, and trade feed and 
 clothe us, and develop the resources of the world. 
 What has Finance to do with Arithmetic ? 
 
 Leila. I don't see exactly ; but yet you can't 
 do business without using Arithmetic. 
 
 Teacher. That's it, exactly ; it is carried on 
 by the practical application of the methods of 
 Arithmetic, just as trade is. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 NATURE LESSONS. 
 
 A HINT of spring appears, and as we have been 
 waiting for it to study something of outdoor 
 natural science by practical observation, we hail 
 it gladly. Boys and girls, start with your eyes 
 open. Look for the signs of spring as we walk. 
 Tell us what birds you see or hear, what they are 
 doing, how they look, how they fly ; and if you 
 know something of their habits, their haunts, 
 their food, their nests, and their eggs, let us talk 
 about it, that all may be ready to write about it 
 in school to-morrow. Examine the pines to-day 
 especially. I shall ask you many questions about 
 them. Get some of the wood and bark to take 
 home, and pick up some specimens of rock, for 
 we are to learn all we can of trees, rocks, birds, 
 insects, and plants, between now and the long 
 summer vacation, so that you will know where 
 you are, and be well acquainted with your com- 
 pany all through Nature's holiday. 
 
 55 
 
56 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Here is a little bank of snow under the stone 
 wall. We must give it a greeting and farewell, 
 for it will soon go. It glistens on its crusty 
 surface. You have observed the snow as 
 it falls. What do you know of the shape of the 
 flakes ? 
 
 Helen. The flakes are one or more little stars 
 of different patterns. I saw a good many copies 
 of snow-flakes in the magazines. They were very 
 pretty. 
 
 Madge. I saw them one day through a micro- 
 scope. They had each six rays, and some had 
 rays like fern-leaves. Oh, there were so many 
 kinds ! but they were all lovely. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, every star, or crystal, has six 
 rays, sometimes twelve ; all the centres have 
 six sides ; all are perfectly symmetrical ; all its 
 parts are put together at an angle of 60, just 
 as if a mathematical law had ruled the formation 
 of all. The earth all winter has been wrapped in 
 this warm, soft blanket of the snow. It has kept 
 the roots safe. How softly and quietly the moist- 
 ure which formed them arose from the sea ; how 
 far the great cloud travelled ; how wide it spread, 
 to fall so gently at last just where it was needed ! 
 
NATURE LESSONS. 57 
 
 Mother Nature is a u de~r old nurse," to be 
 sure. 
 
 Daisy. You wanted us to look for rocks. 
 Here is a pretty white one ; it looks almost like 
 the snow. 
 
 TeacJier. All come near to see it ; find more 
 pieces like it, or 'mixed with some other kind of 
 rock. It is called quartz. Teddy has a piece, a 
 little different in hue. What is yours the color of, 
 Daisy ? 
 
 Daisy. It is milk-white. 
 
 Teddy. Mine is something like glass. 
 
 Teacher. Daisy's is milk quartz, and Teddy's 
 vitreous, or glassy, quartz. This is very interest- 
 ing, because when all the outside of the earth was 
 water, this soft, fine sediment was deposited at 
 the bottom of the unbroken ocean, and by heat 
 was made into this rock. It was the bottom of 
 the old oceans that boiled all around the hot globe 
 before any plant or animal was made. It is the 
 oldest rock and the most common. Is it hard ? 
 Try your knife upon it. 
 
 Conrtenaye. It is very hard. I cannot make 
 a mark on it. 
 
 Teacher. Take a piece home. It will write 
 
5 8 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 your name on glass. Glass is quartz-sand melted 
 and mixed with soda. It takes a very hot fire 
 to melt it. Crack up a piece. Does it break in 
 even lines? 
 
 Prescott. No, it breaks any way. 
 
 Teacher. Flint, you know ; you have a piece 
 at school. This is a kind of quartz. Sometimes 
 quartz is in crystals, and as transparent as glass. 
 
 Helen. Oh, we have a rock at home all cov- 
 ered thickly with crystals, it is crowded with 
 them. 
 
 Teacher. Amethyst is a purple quartz-crystal. 
 Agates are layers of different colored quartz. The 
 sand of the sea-shore is quartz broken up by the 
 waves. It is found mixed with other minerals, 
 and makes rocks. But there go a flock of crows. 
 " Caw, caw," they say. 
 
 Blanche. They go fast. They are all black, 
 and flap their wings slowly. 
 
 Esther. I see them go to the sea-shore early 
 every morning and back. They get their break- 
 fast there. 
 
 Willie. They eat the dead fish on the shore. 
 I saw a crow's nest last fall, but it was so high up 
 in an old pine-tree, without any but top branches, 
 
NA TURE LESSONS. $9 
 
 I couldn't get it. It was made of great sticks 
 and hay. You could see it far off. By and 
 by they will come to the corn-fields for food, 
 and the farmers will have to set up the scare- 
 crows. 
 
 Teacher. He belongs to the Corvus family. 
 His nest is always high above the ground, in a 
 pine or cedar, made of sticks and dry grass, as 
 Willie says, and lined with bark from cedars or 
 grape-vines. The old cedars at Nonquitt are all 
 stripped of their bark. They make their nests 
 the last of March. 
 
 Prescott. Rob Moore got an egg for our club ; 
 it was green, with brown marks on it; about an 
 inch and a half long. 
 
 Teacher. If you should go near the nest while 
 they are building, they will fly about, cawing in 
 such a way as to deceive you about its situation. 
 But when they are sitting on the eggs they are 
 very brave. In April they eat a great many de- 
 structive insects in the ploughed fields, so that 
 they do the farmers as much good as harm. Some- 
 times they will eat field-mice or snakes, and in 
 autumn they eat berries and grain. Did you ever 
 see a crow walk ? 
 
60 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Madge. Yes, they look so tall and funny, as 
 if they were going to meeting ; but they fly as if 
 they were sailing, sometimes. 
 
 Teacher. We are coming to the pines. Here 
 are the willows. Don't break them to-day ; wait 
 a week or two till the pussy-buds are larger, and 
 we will examine them then. 
 
 II. 
 
 IT is a lovely day, and the sweet, mild air re- 
 proaches us for keeping indoors. However, as 
 Madame Monet comes for an hour, the class is 
 easily reconciled to the confinement, which is 
 made so entertaining by the comedie " Les Ca- 
 prices de Gizelle" la petite mechante avec sa 
 poupee. But when the hour is through they 
 seem tired, and Nature invites us away, so the 
 rest of the session shall be held under the blue 
 skies. We start joyfully, with microscope and 
 specimen boxes, reaching within fifteen minutes a 
 quiet road stretching between fields and woods, 
 with a running brook near ; while stone walls 
 divide the landscape, and broken rocks are strewn 
 along the wayside. 
 
NATURE LESSONS. ___ _ 
 
 , 
 
 As we ramble pleasantly on, we obsePfc^SB^* _ * 
 cumulus and cirrus clouds freshening up the sT" 
 We point them out, and explain their causes and 
 effects, answering many a curious question there- 
 upon. We might amplify on such a theme, but 
 try to stop short of confusing them, and promise 
 them more complete instruction another time ; 
 but it is an interesting subject, especially to the 
 imaginative children. We observe the enterpris- 
 ing robin and bluebird, crossing and recrossing 
 the airy spaces ; and, with a clatter of tongues, we 
 recount what we learned of them last spring, 
 how many feet of worm each young robin must 
 have per day, the eggs, the nests, the songs, the 
 migration and habits. They have not forgotten a 
 word of it, and love to talk about the pretty 
 creatures who can do what we cannot, track 
 the breezy air. 
 
 We have pointed out the trees that ornament 
 the streets and grounds we have passed, the 
 maples, elms, and chestnuts, and here are the 
 pines, oaks, and willows. Do we not know much 
 of them already ? Let us look for the buds, find 
 the fresh green layer beneath the bark, see the 
 catkins coming out ; and, as we have within a few 
 
62 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT* 
 
 days had oral lessons on such opening buds and 
 flowers as could be obtained, we examine, with 
 renewed delight, the pistillate and staminate 
 flowers of the willows wrapped in amber clouds, 
 and the red maple all aflame on the borders of the 
 wood. We find the sprouting maple keys and the 
 acorns, with their stored-up albumen to feed the 
 germ. 
 
 Now we come to a halt, and sit down upon 
 some big stones, while we cast our eyes around. 
 The broken rocks glisten with mica, and are beau- 
 tifully variegated with feldspar, quartz, and por- 
 phyry ; we split off flakes of mica ; we talk of 
 forces, of heat and water, of crystallization ; we 
 go back to primeval ages : here are boulders of 
 granite and syenite. (Oh, yes ! we heard of 
 syenite in our study of Egypt last winter.) Is 
 it too much to hint at the origin of these bones 
 of the earth, and stretch these little minds to such 
 vast themes ? You can see their powers expand, 
 their imagination take wing, and their longing 
 grow mightily as they look and listen. Ah ! why 
 are there so many mines of interest in our track 
 to-day, and the road below and around us so teem- 
 ing with material for investigation ? It was not m 
 
NATURE LESSONS. 63 
 
 our arrangement of opportunities ; let us accept it 
 as part of a wiser one than ours. 
 
 " Well, now, scatter, dear children, and find all 
 you can ; I await you here." Away they go to 
 the four quarters of this field of exploration. 
 Alice H., the born naturalist, starts for the brook, 
 with three or four younger ones loyal to her; 
 into the woods goes Hattie with a troop, and the 
 radii of our circle are quickly drawn by swift 
 detachments to the fields, down the road, on to 
 the recesses, where the sound of the pines is 
 heard or the clear gurgle of the water. They 
 come back, after a while, in irregular squads, and 
 lay their treasures on a .big flat rock together. 
 Here is a blossom of cinquefoil, with its plaited 
 leaves and running stem ; sprays of alder and 
 willow catkins, in every stage of beauty ; clover 
 leaves ; one little stem of epigea in bloom ; fresh 
 grass, and a great variety of lichens and mosses. 
 One and another explain and describe the cinque- 
 foil and epigea, when, hark! a shout of glad 
 announcement from the woods, and a burst of 
 rosy cheeks and bright eyes ushers up Alice T. 
 and her followers, with four dangling snakes, all 
 shining and scaly, one with the forked tongue still 
 
64 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 darting from its bruised head. What beautiful 
 golden browns checker its swaying length ! We 
 will carry them home, and have a lesson on them 
 to-morrow. So must we also teach lichens and 
 mosses, although Alice T. tells us now of the 
 crumbling of the rock under the lichen ; but 
 while we wait for the delaying parties, who have 
 not returned, we are diverted with an account of 
 the adventure of the snake discovery and capture, 
 and have time to look through the microscope at 
 the lovely mosses miniature forests of green, 
 crowned with whorled roseate heads ; soft carpets 
 of verdure, lifting up their spears and cups of red 
 and brown. 
 
 But now we hear the clarion call of the scouts 
 from the brook, and on they come ! A raid over 
 the stone wall brings them all to our feet, and 
 lo ! in their open boxes displayed are masses of 
 bull-frogs' and turtles' eggs, the embryo just 
 beginning to show the line of cleavage. What 
 excitement of pleasure attends this lesson ! We 
 are not afraid of embryology : nothing is more 
 interesting than this evident miracle of the birth- 
 hour of Nature both animal and vegetable and 
 we are in the very midst of its awe and beauty. 
 
NATURE LESSONS. 65 
 
 We discuss carefully and explicitly, with the mi- 
 croscope, the bull-frog's eggs, the albumen, the 
 germ, the tadpole. They all know the metamor- 
 phosis and the general characteristics of the tad- 
 pole and frog. But Alice H. has been an original 
 investigator : she can tell precisely the succession 
 of the changes, from the laying of the egg to the 
 full-grown frog ; she has felt in the bull-frog's 
 mouth herself to see if it had teeth, and she tells 
 us all about it, and how its tongue is attached in 
 front and free behind. They have all seen the 
 toad or frog throw out its fat, gluey tongue to 
 swoop up the ants or slugs ; some have seen the 
 bull-frog swallow another frog ; but they are far 
 from listless when they learn for the first time 
 that the frog's ears and nose are in the back of its 
 mouth ; it doesn't appear to strain their faculties 
 to learn, from once hearing, these arid many other 
 facts about the frog, in this academic hall, with 
 the specimens under their eyes. 
 
 We cannot find a frog, but many remember the 
 tight piece of skin stretched behind the eye, 
 which is the drum of the ear. They hear of 
 the flying-frog of Borneo ; of the haughty male 
 frog, who decorates himself with a garland of eggs 
 
66 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 till he looks like a Knight of the Garter, and then 
 sits in the mud till the tadpoles squirm, when he 
 jumps into the water and they all launch out like 
 an epitome of the resurrection day ; they hear of 
 the toad whose back grows soft and spongy while 
 it lays its eggs, so that the male can stick it full 
 of the little globules, like a beaded cushion, and 
 when the change comes, in the twinkling of a 
 toad's eye, one hundred and twenty lively little 
 blackies jump out of their warm bed at once. It 
 doesn't take long for the audience around the rock 
 to commit these wonders to memory. Shouts 
 of delight reverberate, and ecstatic measures of 
 jumps and twirls and other gymnastics interrupt 
 the lesson. Afterward in the more orderly atten- 
 tion of the schoolroom, we can fix the technicali- 
 ties, explain the structure, compare and classify, 
 and when abstracts have been written, I doubt if 
 some of them may not lay claim to the rare title 
 of Batrachiologists. 
 
 It is high time to go home. Pick up the speci- 
 mens, fill up the boxes, swing the snakes along ; 
 do not get too many rocks, though they are so 
 tempting in their glistening beauty and their won- 
 derful suggestions ; and when we reach the 
 
NATURE LESSONS. / 
 
 school, after our two hours out, we will hang the 
 snakes from the window as trophies, and study 
 them up for our lesson in the morning. Good- 
 bye ; we have started up many a trail ; we long 
 and mean to follow each one ; and just now we 
 are hungry. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 READING TO THE CHILDREN. 
 
 THE teacher seems to be reading to the class ; 
 she looks up often to meet the row of intent faces 
 turned toward her, and seems to gather inspira- 
 tion from the review ; scholars at work upon 
 other studies one by one lift up their dilated eyes, 
 and as the reading progresses the whole school 
 becomes absorbed in listening. Sympathetic and 
 enthusiastic exclamations break from their lips 
 here and there, questions and brief conversa- 
 tions interrupt only to augment the interest. The 
 book is held in the teacher's hand certainly, but if 
 one glances over its rapidly turned pages he can 
 hardly follow, and seldom finds the place. Actu- 
 ally, the text is translated impromptu into a 
 style and language which, by a sort of improvisa- 
 tion, becomes the best medium for this mercurial 
 transmission of ideas. The book is taken as a 
 skeleton to be clothed upon by the kindled m- 
 
 68 
 
READING TO THE CHILDREN. 69 
 
 spiration of one who loves herself to prepare the 
 mental aliment for those whom she has studied so 
 carefully, and whose hungering looks turn to her, 
 while she is stirred by their magnetic desire, and 
 sensitive to every throb of the nervous tissue of 
 their busy brains. 
 
 It is better for such a teacher to take for this 
 purpose a book which is not written for children, 
 as children's books are too childish in style and 
 too limited in language. Words thrown into 
 strong connections interpret themselves to the 
 warmly interested mind, and the vocabulary is 
 insensibly and actively enlarged, the store-house 
 of memory filled, not with dead forms but with 
 living actors, ready to step forward and play their 
 part whenever the automatic brain calls for them. 
 
 This method of teaching explains much that 
 seems extravagant as a statement of a year's 
 work. For example, one day last spring, to re- 
 ward those who had braved the storm to come, I 
 took a dry account from a compendium of general 
 history, and attempted to teach in an hour or two 
 the lesson of the Crusades. The children had 
 had but a glimpse of the matter, in connection 
 with their lessons in English History, the previous 
 
70 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 year. Reading to them in some such way as I 
 have described ; writing on the board a schedule 
 of names and dates as they occurred in the read- 
 ing, in order to make the outline clear before their 
 eyes ; tracing the localities and movements on the 
 map ; reading verbatim passages from the Talis- 
 man also, showing with it the engravings from a 
 rare illustrated edition of Scott, and with pictures 
 and a little of the text from Ivan/we, I found at 
 the close of the session, that in the glow of the 
 whole theme upon the clear mirror of their minds, 
 they had received a comprehensive as well as a 
 particular knowledge of the subject, a perfectly 
 orderly outline of its facts, a vivid apprehension 
 of its purpose, philosophy, connections, and re- 
 sults, as well as a strong scenic impression of the 
 drama of the whole epoch. I think it would have 
 taken a week, at least, of daily lessons of common 
 book-routine to accomplish what we did in this 
 reading ; and I believe the pupils will have a 
 more enduring remembrance of the history, and 
 a stronger desire to inform themselves more fully 
 upon it, and to revive whatever escapes their 
 memories, than they would have after the usual 
 method of study. 
 
READING TO THE CHILDREN. 7 l 
 
 Plutarch's Lives we read much in connection 
 with the study of ancient history ; it is a wonder- 
 ful mine of delight, and absolutely requires this 
 kind of presentation. There is much elimination 
 and supplementary explanation to be made, 
 deep chasms in the historical highland to be 
 bridged over, and, in fact, a great deal of trans- 
 mutation to make it into pure gold for children ; 
 but, with this handling, it is fascinating in the 
 extreme, and throws out the old heroes most 
 boldly on the canvas. " Splendid ! " " Three 
 cheers ! " " Which do you like best ?" " Oh, how 
 I admire him ! " are among the frequent interpola- 
 tions on the part of the excited audience, as they 
 are moved to sorrow or to joy by the grand sculp- 
 turing of this great master of biography. 
 
 But if they take the book and try to read it 
 alone they are disappointed ; it seems incoherent, 
 often very prosy and unintelligible, and they grow 
 weary of hunting for the juicy plums of anecdote. 
 
 I like to take a hand-book of some branch of 
 physics, and offer it to the class through this kind 
 of reading ; the " primers " in these branches I 
 do not care to use, although I have tried several 
 of them ; but they trammel the natural action of 
 
7 2 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 my own thought and flow of my own expression 
 and clog the ways which run from my mind to 
 theirs. It seems almost impossible for me to 
 read one of them verbatim to a child. A little of 
 that electric force of the teacher's own individual- 
 ity, when it beats in harmony with the pulses 
 which it touches every day, is more effectual than 
 volumes of dead words and tedious reiteration. 
 More than all that they learn of the subject-matter 
 in hand in such exercises, I value the sharpening 
 and strengthening of their powers of discernment, 
 concentration, and assimilation, and the steady 
 improvement of the quality and fibre of the mind 
 which is ministered to. Is it not the essential 
 germ of true education ? 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ORAL LESSONS. 
 
 SOCRATES sat with his disciples in the Academe 
 as a teacher viva voce ; no book was in his hand, 
 no tablet or scroll was held out to his pupils, but 
 the air surged with the magnetic power of his 
 presence, and the audible expression of his mind. 
 The eye was riveted on him, not on written pages 
 or slow-conned letters. And in the immense 
 concourse of the Greek theatre we see the people 
 listening with bated breath to the wisdom, the 
 philosophy, the history, and religion of those 
 great tragedies whereby ^Eschylus, Sophocles, 
 and Euripides informed the world. Was it 
 necessary for any open-mouthed listener to go 
 thence to the examiners, or to work over those 
 problems of passion and reason by the smoulder- 
 ing embers of a printed record ? Nay, the im- 
 pression was branded into his mind by the heat of 
 
 73 
 
74 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 action, form, look, and speech, which kindled there 
 an undying fervor. 
 
 And, to come down to nearer times and less 
 miraculous men, when did Agassiz call his 
 class before him to go through a list of printed 
 questions reviewing a printed page? He took 
 them to Lake Superior to learn of ores ; the 
 masses of copper shone iridescent in their hands, 
 and the teacher's face glowed with the enthusiasm 
 of vision as he spoke and pointed. How many 
 times have we seen him on the platform imparting 
 more wisdom, science, and devout learning from 
 his expressive and radiant face and golden utter- 
 ance than could be put upon paper or held within 
 covers ! He adjured the young priests and ves- 
 tals of nature, gathered about him at Penekese, 
 to discard books and proceed to discovery. 
 Books are the reservoirs of what we have not the 
 means of hearing or seeing. If I am a cosmopoli- 
 tan, need I consult the geography ? If I can 
 listen to the animated report of the cotemporary 
 of great men, need I read their biographies ? 
 No ; the word, the look, the first-hand report, is 
 next to the witness of our own eye or the partici- 
 pation of our own life. 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 75 
 
 Even in consulting the book, how greatly 
 instantaneous impression may be cultivated ! 
 The dull, untrained mind follows each line with 
 heavy movement of eye and brain, and even of 
 lips ; the brain trained to concentration and rapid 
 assimilation takes in the page at a glance, as did 
 Lord Macaulay, and receives the subject like a 
 sun-picture in turning the leaves. I claim that 
 one of the finest results of steady and progressive 
 oral instruction is this training for concentration 
 of mind, and instantaneous focussing of the light 
 of the printed page, or any other channel of 
 impression ; it opens the ways, and arouses the 
 forces of the brain, until that receives and appro- 
 priates whatever is offered to it without the 
 friction of intermittent interest, and the check 
 and chafe of an uneducated eye and brain. 
 We have been accustomed to follow and catch 
 the fleeting word which may not be recalled or 
 repeated, instead of a waiting line to which we 
 again and again recur when we plod through the 
 dull letters until our brains are callous and rusty 
 for want of exercise. 
 
 Horace Mann ! Has any one any merely book- 
 associations with his teaching? It was too vital 
 
76 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 and incisive a matter to clothe with another man's 
 language, or be imparted through any written 
 medium. He said, "Let there be!" and there 
 was. Truly it led us thirsting and hungering to 
 every source of knowledge, books were its 
 tributaries, and so was everything wherein lay 
 food for the insatiate brain stirred by his touch : 
 but the great stream, the deep river of his 
 influence, was an outflowing of his own personal- 
 ity and his own inspiration, and created scholars 
 and noble souls. 
 
 Oral lessons ! they should come from the over- 
 flowing beaker, not from the scanty cup. If 
 mechanical, what an utter failure they become ! 
 They must be so spontaneous as to awaken an 
 interest in every pupil, so well prepared for as to 
 satisfy the aroused attention ; so replete as to tempt 
 and reward all mental craving ; so suggestive as to 
 start innumerable activities in the listening brain ; 
 and so forceful and inspiring as to drive to inves- 
 tigation, research, and study, by every available 
 means. They should be mixed with every recita- 
 tion, an infiltration of sunlight over every path 
 of knowledge, shortening and illuminating the 
 road, and yet revealing an infinite vista. 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 77 
 
 ORAL LESSON ON BIRDS. 
 
 Teacher. Do you know that during this month 
 a great multitude will come up here from the 
 South, to spend the spring and summer? We 
 shall soon see large and attractive parties of trav- 
 ellers arriving and settling themselves in their 
 summer homes. 
 
 Scholars. Who are they, and what are they 
 coming for ? 
 
 Teacher. You must try to guess ; they do not 
 come by railroad or steamboat, although they 
 travel as fast. They are coming now in such 
 troops that there will soon be a million of them in 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 Louie. A million ! What shall we do ? There 
 will not be room enough for them, nor enough to 
 eat. 
 
 Teacher. Oh, there are a good many of the 
 houses they had last summer waiting for them, and 
 they will go right to work and build all they need 
 besides. As for their food, it has been kept safe 
 all winter for them in little sealed cans which they 
 know how to open, hidden in the places where 
 they resort. I saw a crowd of them yesterday, 
 
f HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 dressed in brown and dull red, opening some of 
 the cans and eating the preserved fruits, and they 
 had ices and frosting with their dessert, laid out 
 on elegantly spread tables, supported and festooned 
 by evergreens, spruce-boughs, and fir-boughs, and 
 they had drops of balsam and spicy gums for their 
 confections. 
 
 Bertha. Why, Mrs. ! what are you talk- 
 ing about ? 
 
 Teacher. I'm talking about the delightful 
 company about to visit us from the South. They 
 know more about some things in Nature here than 
 we do, and they are all more or less musical, and 
 will give us quite a concert every morning and 
 night, and more or less through many days of the 
 spring and summer. 
 
 Carrie. I think I know. May I tell ? 
 
 Teacher. Not quite yet ; but you may talk 
 about them, without telling. Do you know how 
 their houses are built ? 
 
 Carrie. Some of them are made of mud and 
 sticks and straw and hair. 
 
 Teacher. Do you know what they like best to 
 eat? 
 
 Carrie. Worms. (Laughter.) 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 
 
 I. I know. It is the birds. 
 
 Prescott. I saw a little bird standing 
 top of the snow, the other day. He took hold of 
 a little stalk that peeped out of the snow, and 
 shook it till lots of seeds fell down on the snow, 
 and he ate them. Were they the food in the 
 sealed cans ? 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; the cans were hung up on that 
 little stalk till he should come to get them. That 
 little bird, and his relatives, had stayed here all 
 winter, I think. How did he look ? 
 
 Prescott. He was black and white, with a big 
 head for such a small bird ; and he almost turned 
 somersaults upon the fir-tree, and hung with his 
 head down. 
 
 Teacher. Was his head black, or white ? 
 
 Prescott. His head was black, and his breast 
 was almost white. 
 
 Teacher. We might call him Black-cap. Did 
 he seem to be alone ? 
 
 Prescott. Oh, yes ! call him Black-cap. There 
 was a whole flock of them in the bushes, in the 
 yard where those pink berries are. 
 
 Teacher. Who knows his name ? 
 
 Edith. Was it the Chick-a-dee-dee ? 
 
O HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Teacher. The Chick-a-dee. That name is for 
 his song ; his other name is " Black-capped Tit- 
 mouse." "Titmouse" is his family name. Have 
 you all heard him sing ? 
 
 Several. Yes, indeed, we all know Chick-a- 
 dee-dee. 
 
 Teacher. He stays here all winter long, and 
 we like him ; why, Carrie ? 
 
 Carrie. Because he is so funny and nimble. 
 
 Lulu. And so gay and not afraid. 
 
 Prescott. I think, because he hops about the 
 yard and gets the crumbs we throw him, and perks 
 his head on every side and winks his eye at us. 
 
 Bertha. Don't you think it is more because 
 his song is so cheery, and he stays all winter ? 
 
 Teacher. You are all right. Hear about his 
 nest and his eggs. He finds a snug hole in a post 
 or tree, perhaps in a birch-tree, and lines it with 
 soft feathers, or moss, or wool ; then the last part 
 of May is chosen as the best time to lay the eggs, 
 six little spotted eggs. Many of them go away 
 farther north in the summer, and those who stay 
 here are more shy, and keep more at home in the 
 trees, where they pick out little bugs and insects' 
 eggs from under the bark of the tree, as the Wood- 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 
 
 8l 
 
 peckers do ; then in the fall they are as lively and 
 merry and social as ever. 
 
 Mabel. I guess they are modest about their 
 plain clothes when all the other birds are here. 
 
 Teacher. Now, here are two eggs of the Chick- 
 a-dee, and a picture of him, which Louie may draw 
 on the board. Tell me his other name. 
 
 All. Black-capped Titmouse. 
 
 Teacher. But these birds were not of the 
 hosts I spoke about, flying from the South, coming 
 now, and all through March. I mean a larger 
 bird. 
 
 Helen. Robins. They are the ones that eat 
 worms, and make mud and straw nests. 
 
 Teacher. You are right. Where do they make 
 their nests, Helen ? 
 
 Helen, Up in the apple-trees, in a corner by 
 two or three branches. They plaster mud all in 
 the place, and poke sticks around in it for a found- 
 ation. I have got one at home. 
 
 Teacher. Here is one. It had to be pulled off 
 of the boughs. See how strong it is, and rough 
 outside ; but is it rough inside, Ethel ? 
 
 Ethel. Oh, no ; it is all lined with soft hairs 
 and feathers, for the eggs to rest on. 
 
82 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT r ( 
 
 Teacher. - What is the color of the Robin ? 
 
 Hattic. I believe it is gray and brown on the 
 top, and deep red underneath. 
 
 Teacher. I want you to watch carefully, and 
 be ready to describe exactly the color and form of 
 the Robin. You will be sure to see some of them 
 within a week. Notice the color of his head, his 
 bill, and legs, as well as his back, tail, and breast. 
 See whether his tail is forked, and whether he 
 jerks it or not. Watch whether he runs or hops, 
 and what he eats. Hattie, you may draw and paint 
 a picture of him for us to see ; and who can bring 
 his eggs? 
 
 Helen. I can ; they are lovely in color. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, so lovely and so peculiar that 
 we can only call it Robin's-egg blue. How many 
 eggs are usually in one nest, and at what time of 
 year ? 
 
 Helen. Four or five, in April. We only take 
 one or two eggs out of a nest, and we don't take 
 the nest till fall. Oliver and I got them. 
 
 Carrie. I wish you could see them, Mrs. H., 
 on our lawn, tugging at the worms, switching them 
 out of the grass after a shower, and then biting 
 them in short pieces, and flying off with a tassel 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 8 3 
 
 of worms hanging from their bills. They hop, and 
 look around, and hop again ; then they run so fast 
 you can't see their legs go, and then they make a 
 dive for a worm, and jerk him out by degrees ; it 
 is so funny ! 
 
 Helen. I saw them, last year, feeding the little 
 birds, in a nest up in the big spruce-tree, right out 
 of my chamber window. The young ones peeped 
 and peeped, and crowded up, and opened their 
 mouths as wide as all out-doors, while their mother 
 and father kept coming with worms to drop into 
 their big mouths. 
 
 Teacher. How much worm does one little 
 robin eat in a day? 
 
 Lulu. Oh, I'm sure I don't know. 
 
 Teacher. A man tried it once ; he took a 
 young robin out of the nest and fed it all day, and 
 it ate fourteen feet of good, fat worm, as much 
 as if you should eat forty chickens, at least. They 
 are greedy little creatures. Think what a number 
 of worms are made only to feed the young robins 
 every year. Are the robins of any use to the 
 farmers ? 
 
 Mabel. I don't know. I should think they did 
 harm, for they bite the cherries and strawberries, 
 
84 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 and spoil nearly all of ours ; and in the fall they 
 bite the ripe apples and pears. 
 
 Teacher. True; but, for all that, they benefit 
 the farmer much more than they injure him. They 
 eat up myriads of destructive worms and caterpil- 
 lars and bugs which would spoil much vegetation 
 and fruit. Do they rise early, or late, in the morn- 
 ing? 
 
 Bertha. Oh, very early. I think they must 
 get up before daylight, for they begin to sing just 
 when a little faint streak of dawn comes through 
 the window. 
 
 Teacher. They are up by half-past three. Who 
 can describe their song ? 
 
 Mabel. I know just how it goes. It is a little 
 sad at night, but very musical, I think. 
 
 Teacher. I am glad you have noticed it. 
 Has any one heard their call to their mates, or 
 their chirp to the young ones ? 
 
 Maggie. Yes, indeed ; when they try to get 
 the young ones to fly, they chirp all the time. 
 
 Ethel. In the elm-trees, on our street, you 
 hear them all day long, in June, and it sounds like 
 a jolly chatter. 
 
 Teacher. Their family name is Thrush. They 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 85 
 
 are coming toward us now, flying quite high, in 
 merry companies, from the South. Soon the Blue- 
 birds will start, and fly still higher, singing loudly 
 and clearly on the wing, the prelude of the 
 spring to the snow-bound North. Watch for him, 
 and tell me of his size, his color, and his habits, 
 when you see him. . 
 
 Bertha. I saw a whole flock of them alight on 
 the telegraph-wire and fences and trees around, as 
 I was driving yesterday on the Acushnet road. 
 They did look lovely ; so blue, and such a pretty 
 blue! 
 
 Teacher. They want some nice holes, or bird- 
 houses, or boxes, to live in. I hope they will find 
 them and get sheltered soon, for we shall have 
 some bitter cold days yet. Is the Bluebird's 
 egg blue? 
 
 Helen. Yes, light blue, sometimes white. I 
 will bring one to-morrow. 
 
 Teacher. Now, for a while, the Bluebird must 
 eat berries ; but later, bugs and beetles. It springs 
 from the twig or perch, and snaps up the flying 
 insect in the air, or the beetle and grasshop- 
 per from the grass. Has it any color but blue 
 about it? 
 
8 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TA.UGHT? 
 
 Lulu. It has a kind of red breast, and partly 
 white underneath. 
 
 Teacher. It comes in March, sometimes in 
 February, and builds its nest in April. It lays its 
 first brood of eggs in May, but it often has two or 
 three broods in the course of the summer, and 
 they eat up myriads of insects. They go away 
 again in October. Their song is sweet, but a 
 little sad. Now they come flying on their long 
 journey through the windy sky, singing as they 
 come. How do you suppose they know the way ? 
 
 Hattie. That's what I always wonder. 
 
 Teacher. So everybody wonders. I read a 
 long article in a British magazine, the other day, 
 upon the migrations of birds, but it did not solve 
 the riddle, to my mind. Many people think the 
 birds have a way of knowing things, so different 
 from any way we know of seeing or hearing that 
 we cannot understand it, another sense which 
 guides them ; others think they learn the road by 
 their keen sight and hearing, and that they have 
 a regular track, which each generation of birds 
 teaches to the next, and on which they have signs 
 or guide-posts for following. Great flocks of birds 
 that go from Africa to Europe, every year, cross 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 87 
 
 the Mediterranean at the same places, by just the 
 same routes ; one across the Straits of Gibraltar, 
 and two others farther east. But we can't under- 
 stand the birds as they understand each other. 
 God takes care of them, and shows them in some 
 way what path to take. Now, Carrie and Maggie, 
 repeat together the last verse of Bryant's poem, 
 which you recited in concert yesterday ; and all 
 be sure, before our next lesson, to observe the 
 birds as they arrive. 
 Carrie and Maggie. 
 
 " He who, from zone to zone, 
 Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 
 
 In the long way that I must tread alone 
 Will lead my steps aright." 
 
 ORAL LESSONS IN BOTANY. 
 I. 
 
 Teacher. Close against our windows comes 
 the bough of the Birch-tree which grows in the 
 yard. See ! its twigs are all naked except for 
 these little buds, and yet, in three weeks perhaps, 
 it will be covered with the prettiest little green 
 
88 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 plaited leaves. I will break off a twig for each of 
 you, and you may tell me what you observe upon 
 it. What color is it ? 
 
 Ethel. It is dark brown. 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; it is the Sweet Birch. Taste 
 of the bark. 
 
 Ethel. It is good ; something like Sassafras. 
 I thought the Birch-tree had white bark. 
 
 Teacher. The White Birch has ; this is an- 
 other kind of Birch. They are alike in the kind 
 of flowers they bear, and the kind of leaves, and 
 in the twigs and bark having this spicy taste, also 
 in the way the outer bark will strip off in thin 
 layers. How do the leaves grow on the stem 
 ppposite or alternate ? 
 
 Sylvia. They are alternate. Do they always 
 come so, Mrs. ? 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; the same plant never varies in 
 the arrangement of its leaves on the stem. Look 
 out of the west window at the Maple-tree. How 
 do those buds grow on the stem ? 
 
 Gertrude. They are opposite ; and the twigs 
 are opposite on the branches. 
 
 Teacher. Those buds are flower-buds on the 
 Maple. On the Birch they are leaf-buds. Now 
 
ORAL LESSONS, 89 
 
 remember that flowers and leaves grow either 
 opposite or alternate on their stems, in most 
 cases, but in a few they are set right around the 
 stem in a sort of ruffle, they are whorled. Op- 
 posite, alternate, and whorled are names for the 
 manner in which the leaves or flowers are ar- 
 ranged on the ste'm. Repeat it. But look again 
 at your Sweet Birch stem. Scrape off a little of 
 the brown bark. What do you see now ? 
 
 Louie, A nice, fresh, green skin. It is damp. 
 
 Teacher. Pull that off. Now what do you 
 find ? 
 
 Maggie, The wood. It is a little wet, and 
 very smooth. 
 
 Teacher. Look at the ends of the twigs where 
 they were broken off. 
 
 Carrie Mine drips with water. 
 
 Teacher. That is the blood of the tree; the 
 sap which runs through its veins and cells, and 
 will build up the twig, and turn the buds into 
 leaves. The little green inner bark has kept food 
 for the tree stored up all winter, and now the sap 
 is beginning to rise from the roots up through the 
 wood, and both together provide nourishment for 
 the buds, and, as they absorb it, they make more 
 
9O HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT* 
 
 and more cells, and grow from buds to leaves. 
 How do you think the sap gets up so far ? All 
 this hard wood is made up of the hard cases of 
 long fine boxes or cells filled with sap. The roots 
 of the tree suck up from the ground, as soon as 
 it is soft, moisture and particles of plant-food, and 
 this is carried from one cell to another, through 
 little pores in the partitions at the ends of the 
 cells, oozing up and mixing with what is already 
 there, running through the veins quite fast, now 
 that spring has come. See how the ends of the 
 broken twigs on the tree drip ! How fast all this 
 food will be made into the pretty, plaited leaves 
 you will see day by day. The tree is working 
 very fast with all its machinery of cells, roots, 
 sap, bark, and buds. Now open the bud, and 
 tell me how it is put together, and what you find. 
 
 Mabel. It has some sticky leaves or brown 
 scales outside. Then inside are little fine folded- 
 up leaves, folded up something like a fan, all 
 crimped and plaited oh, so fine! all folded 
 alike, with little pointed edges. Isn't it pretty ? 
 
 Teacher. In a week we will examine the 
 leaves more carefully. Do you see any marks 
 on the stems, below the leaves ? 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 9 1 
 
 Lily. There are some smooth, flat places. 
 What are they? 
 
 Teacher. They are the places where last 
 year's leaves came off. The scars, we call them. 
 When you find a Horse-chestnut stem or twig, 
 notice .how large and plain the scars are. The 
 leaf fell off in the fall, you know. Do all plants 
 lose their leaves in the fall ? 
 
 Madge. No ; the Pine-tree does not. 
 
 Alice. There are some trees over in that yard 
 that are green all winter. 
 
 Teacher. The Spruce and Hemlock, and all 
 trees called Evergreens, keep their leaves, and 
 form new twigs with new leaves on them at the 
 end of their boughs each spring. The trees all 
 form that inner bark fresh every year, and it saves 
 up the food for the new parts to grow with in the 
 spring before the roots can get much food from 
 the frozen ground. The sun, becoming warmer, 
 sets all the growing machinery at work. The 
 inner bark, soft at first, grows hard by the end of 
 the summer and another inner bark is formed over 
 it, so that, as every successive year this layer of 
 bark is made, it always shows a line of separation 
 between it and the outer layer ; and when^ you 
 
9 2 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 saw off a tree horizontally, on its trunk you see 
 the rings all around the centre quite plainly. In 
 this way, one can tell how many years old a 
 tree is. 
 
 Holly. Will all these buds grow and open ? 
 
 Teacher. Perhaps not. Some may die and 
 fall off, if the sun doesn't shine directly on them. 
 The frost may come and kill some, or a little 
 worm or insect may eat others. The leaves will 
 not probably be quite as regular and many on the 
 twig as these little buds. Now, do you want a 
 hard word before you go ? Exogenous is the word. 
 This is an exogenous stem ; it grows by adding 
 every year to the outside of the stem. So do all 
 our trees ; but the Palm-tree or a corn-stalk or a 
 cane, and others, grow by adding to the inside of 
 the stem, which looks like a large bundle of fibres, 
 new fibres or threads each year. They are en- 
 dogenous stems. Endogenous stems have no 
 branches, but all their leaf-stems come out at the 
 top of the stalk. Exogenous stems have a pith 
 or soft part, of cells in the middle, wood around 
 it, and bark outside, and they have many 
 branches, a new set every year on the whole 
 length of the stem. 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 93 
 
 You have now learned the peculiarities of the 
 Birch-stem, the arrangement of buds in three dif- 
 ferent ways upon different plants, the growth of 
 the bud just above the scar of the last year's 
 growth, the way in which the buds are fed while 
 the ground is yet hard, the formation and method 
 of growth of this branch and most trees, and the 
 distinction between the exogenous and endoge- 
 nous stems. Bring any budded stem or opening 
 leaves, or any other subject for explanation about 
 plants to-morrow, and we will examine it ; and, at 
 all events, in a few days we will look again at our 
 Birch leaf-buds, and our Maple flower-buds, and 
 see what we may learn about them. Bring a 
 Horse-chestnut stem budded, if you can. 
 
 Teddy. I can, and a good many other stems, 
 too. 
 
 II. 
 
 Teacher. We have come into the green-house 
 to study the climbing-plants : we must look to see 
 how they climb, what parts they have which are 
 for only that purpose, and how those parts do the 
 work of climbing for the plant, to lift it into the 
 warmth and light. Some of the climbers you know 
 
94 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 very well by name. I see several vines of English 
 Ivy ; I want you all to look closely at them to see 
 how they climb the wall or trellis they are upon. 
 
 Louise. This one seems to stick tightly to 
 the wall. 
 
 Bertha. They have little roots which go into 
 the cracks. 
 
 Teacher. Where do those rootlets come from ? 
 
 Ethel. Out of the stem on the side next to 
 the wall. 
 
 Teacher. Do you see any which have not 
 attached themselves or taken hold of the wall ? 
 
 Edith. This vine has lots of dried threads 
 hanging from it ; are they the roots ? 
 
 Teacher. Look at Edith's vine which is run- 
 ning along the wire. The rootlets are all hanging 
 withered from it because, having searched in vain 
 for something to cling to, they have given it up, 
 and died of uselessness. 
 
 Hattie. How do they know anything, or feel 
 about of their own accord ? 
 
 TeacJier. That is a hard question to answer ; 
 so you will need to use your eyes well, and try, by 
 the time the lesson is over, to answer it yourselves. 
 If you could watch these little roots which put 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 95 
 
 out from the stem, you would see them feeling 
 about for a deeper cleft or a more uneven surface, 
 and when they find it they stop, and their ends 
 flatten into little disks like saucers, which hold on 
 just as a leather sucker holds on to the surface 
 you apply it to. Bring the miscroscope and look 
 carefully at them ; see the disc which holds this 
 rootlet fast. 
 
 Maggie. It is like the snail's foot. 
 
 Carrie. It is like the sea-weed, where it 
 fastens to a shell. 
 
 Teacher. Does the German Ivy climb so ? 
 Look at this on the trellis. 
 
 Louie. No, it twines around. I think the 
 German Ivy is prettier than the English ; it is 
 greener and more delicate. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, but in England, where the 
 climate is warmer and moister in winter than 
 here, the English ivy is greener and fresher, 
 not of the sombre, dark green and brown that 
 you always see here. In New Bedford the 
 English ivy thrives better out-of-doors than in 
 most places in New England. Where does it 
 grow most luxuriantly here ? 
 
 Bertha. On Mr. Allen's house, and on the 
 
96 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 stone cottage on County Street. Oh, Mrs. H., I 
 threw a snowball up to the ivy on the side of Mr. 
 Allen's house, the other day, and out flew the 
 greatest flock of English sparrows. I wish you 
 could have seen them. I didn't know there were 
 so many in town. 
 
 Teacher. Well, that is good ; the ivy shelters 
 the birds ; perhaps the birds reciprocate by eating 
 up the bugs that might destroy the ivy. There is 
 a great deal of mutual help in nature. But have 
 you observed more carefully how the German ivy 
 climbs ? Ethel, you tell us what you see. 
 
 Ethel. I see it twisting around the wire by 
 its stem. 
 
 Teacher. All tell me whether it is by the 
 leaf-stem or the main stalk. 
 
 All. By the main stalk. 
 
 Gertrude. The stem is all kinky trying to get 
 around. 
 
 Hattie. How does it get around ? 
 
 Teacher. I will show you before we go. 
 Look at the Nasturtium vines ; how do they 
 climb by the main stem, or by the leaf-stalk ? 
 
 Alice. This one holds on by its leaf-stems. 
 Just see how funny those stems look that have 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 
 
 not got hold ! they are bent right up, 
 turned a square corner. 
 
 Teacher. That is to push the pretty, shie 
 shaped leaf up with its face to the light ; as it is 
 clinging to a horizontal support, it has to turn 
 the stem around suddenly to accomplish it. Do 
 you all see how it twists its leaf-stems around 
 the string, and how the plant climbs in that way ? 
 This, now, is the third way in which we have 
 seen the plants climbing, since we came in. 
 Here is the Passion Flower, whose leaf-stalk is 
 long and much twined. 
 
 Helen. Do just come to see this lovely vine ; 
 what is it ? 
 
 Teacher. It is called Campsidium Filicifolium. 
 It has no common name. I admire it, it is so 
 delicately beautiful. What does it remind you of, 
 Hattie ? 
 
 Hattie. I have seen ferns which look like it. 
 Its leaf is more finished and elegant, I think ; 
 don't you, Mrs. H. ? 
 
 Teacher. Yes, it is a kind of fern, and its leaf 
 much like the frond of the fern ; but every part of 
 its compound leaf is as perfect as if it were the 
 only thing the spirit of the plant had to express 
 
9 8 nOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 itself in. Look at this fine, tapering point of 
 the stem reaching out from the line where it 
 climbs ; it goes round slowly, seeking its orbit, 
 and makes the circuit in just the time nature 
 has appointed for it ; by to-night, perhaps, it will 
 have reached this side and will point opposite. It 
 is twining and twining, while its leaves unfold to 
 grace the air and adorn the trellis. It twines by 
 its main stalk, like the German Ivy, and the end 
 looks almost like a tendril, but it develops leaves 
 and buds as it grows. Come with me ; I want to 
 show you a vine with compound leaves, where the 
 mid-vein spins out into a long, slender tendril. 
 Here it is. It would be hard work to disentangle 
 the leaves. Look and tell me about it. 
 
 Louise. It has a compound leaf, and it is 
 fastened at both ends, by one to the stem, and 
 by the other to the trellis. 
 
 Teacher. Are the tendrils straight, or curled ? 
 (Some answer " Yes" and some "No.") Are the 
 straight tendrils those that have begun to twine 
 or not ? 
 
 Maggie. Oh, isn't it queer ! they are straight 
 before they get hold of anything, and curled all 
 up tight afterward. 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 99 
 
 Teacher. The long, straight tendril sweeps 
 its point around till it finds a chance to cling; 
 then, being so long, the leaf is a good way off, 
 and so the tendril begins to coil between" the 
 support and the leaf, to bring the stalk near its 
 support. Does it coil one way exclusively ? 
 
 Helen. Oh, rfo ; it goes on the same way for a 
 while, and then turns round and goes the other 
 way, just like the reverse waltz. What is that 
 for? 
 
 Teacher. Do you all see it ? Would it not 
 twist the stem too much if this were not so ? It 
 is an ingenious device. It seems as if the tendril 
 thought about it. Did you ever see the grape- 
 vine tendrils do the same ? 
 
 Bertha. Yes, indeed ; I know just how they 
 look. How can they do it ? Are they creatures 
 to know ? 
 
 Louise. Do you remember about that Mur- 
 
 \ 
 derer Vine in the Amazon forest, that you showed 
 
 me a picture of ? 
 
 Teacher. Yes, I do, and so do you all. 
 
100 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 III. 
 
 Tvacher. We spoke of the Birch-tree storing 
 up its nourishment for the early leaf-buds, in the 
 inner bark. Nearly all plants save food in some 
 of their parts for the next year's* growth. This is 
 what seems to me a proof of God's presence in it 
 and care for it, the Providence which we use as 
 a name for God. Here is a little plant living 
 almost wholly upon that food provided last year 
 for its growth this year. What is it ? 
 
 Class. It is a bean growing in water. 
 
 Teacher. The split bean is really two thick 
 leaves, which serve as food for the plant which is 
 growing up from the little bud or germ that was 
 set between them like a little tooth. That little 
 germ was the real seed, and sent down these 
 roots, and sent up this stem which is opening into 
 buds and leaves. Tell me of other plants that 
 will grow so in water living on its stored-up food 
 for a while. 
 
 Mabel, The Flax-seed will. I put some 
 cotton-wool on the top of a glass of water, and in 
 a week or two the glass was filled with delicate 
 
ORAL LESSONS. IOI 
 
 rootlets and the light green stems and leaves 
 grew up, with afterward a gentle blue flower here 
 and there among them. 
 
 Sylvia. I have some Hyacinths in bulb- 
 glasses, and they are all in bloom beautifully in 
 my window. 
 
 Teacher. Where have they found the food 
 which has nourished them ? The bean, you see, 
 is gradually shrivelling as it gives up its food to 
 the plant. How is it with the Hyacinth ? Do 
 you see any part which seems to be giving 
 and fading while the plant is gaining all the 
 time ? 
 
 Sylvia. It is the bulb that becomes less and 
 less every day. It must be that which has the 
 food. 
 
 Teacher. Now, I believe, if you think, you 
 can tell me how the bulb must have been formed. 
 What part of the last year's plant might have 
 been transformed into the bulb. Did you see that 
 great Mexican plant in the green-house, the other 
 day ? I showed you the long leaves, so exceed- 
 ingly thick toward the ground, and how as they 
 thickened and packed themselves at the base, the 
 upper part shrivelled and fell off. I have a bulb 
 
102 UOIV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 which is just brought up from the cellar; what 
 were all these layers last year ? 
 
 Maggie. Oh, were they the leaves ? 
 
 Louie. Yes ; I suppose the leaves thickened 
 and closed together at the base, and the tops 
 withered and fell off. 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; that was the way the wise 
 plant took to save itself for early growth another 
 year. Here is another bulb which has sprouted 
 in the warm, damp cellar, and much of the 
 nourishment has already gone from the bulb to 
 the new leaves. 
 
 Ethel. What makes the leaves so light and 
 yellow ? 
 
 Teacher. The want of sunlight, which gives 
 the green color to plants. The celery is kept in a 
 dark place or covered purposely, so that it shall 
 be crisp and white. Now here is a turnip, a 
 carrot, and a cabbage. Tell me, Gertrude, where 
 they have stored their provision. 
 
 Gertrude. The cabbage has stored it in the 
 leaves. Is it a bulb ? 
 
 Teacher. No ; because the whole leaf is 
 thickened and made close and solid ; it is a head. 
 What is the turnip ? Are there any signs of 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 1 03 
 
 leaves in it, or is it a seed with food-leaves like 
 the bean ? 
 
 Carrie. I should think it is a root. 
 
 Teacher. So it is ; and do you know of any 
 other thick root which not only feeds the new 
 plant, but feeds us when we choose ? 
 
 Edith. Isn't the radish one ? 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; tell me of some other bulb, Lily. 
 
 Lily. The Lily is one; not I, but the Lily- 
 plant, for I am saving some bulbs that grand- 
 mother gave me to plant in my garden. 
 
 Teacher. Now, all repeat to me the ways we 
 have discovered in which a plant lays up nourish- 
 ment for the next year's plant. 
 
 Class. Inner bark, food-leaves of the seed, 
 bulbs, and roots. 
 
 Teacher. The food-leaves are seed-leaves, or 
 cotyledons ; write the word cotyledons. Here are 
 the cotyledons of the bean. The other day, in the 
 green-house, we saw a large bed of little plants 
 just sprung up from the seeds which had been 
 planted in the ground. I pointed out the two 
 leaves of each plant nearest the ground, and you 
 saw how they differed from the other leaves; 
 they were the seed-leaves or cotyledons. Watch 
 
IO4 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 your Morning-glories and Balsams when they 
 begin to come up in a month or two ; the seed- 
 leaves are quite different from the true leaves. 
 Are any of you going to have a garden ? 
 Class. Yes, indeed. 
 , 
 
 IV. 
 
 Teacher. A few weeks ago we observed the 
 Maple-tree filled with flower-buds ; what have you 
 seen since in the tree ? 
 
 Mabel. You called our attention for several 
 days to the tree, when it was all alive with bees 
 gathering honey ; a swarm of bees in the sunny 
 air flew back and forth between this tree and the 
 one opposite. 
 
 Carrie. Why did they go from one tree to 
 another ? 
 
 Edith. There were flowers on the other tree 
 also. 
 
 Louie. They always gather honey from one 
 kind of tree or blossom at the same time, so as 
 not to mix different kinds of honey. 
 
 Maggie. Did it do any good for them to fly 
 back and forth ? 
 
ORAL LESSONS. 1 05 
 
 Teacher. Those who read in the Fairy Land 
 of Science last term can tell us. 
 
 EtJiel. --They got their backs and heads and 
 legs covered with pollen-dust in getting the 
 honey, and the pollen rubbed off of them on to 
 the stigma, to turn into seeds in the ovary of the 
 flowers. 
 
 Teacher. Here is a flower, like most flowers, 
 with the yellow dust of the pollen ready to fall on 
 the pistil, which is in the middle of the flower. 
 But examine now the flower of this Maple-tree, 
 and see if you can find the stigma. 
 
 Class. -- We cannot. 
 
 Teacher. Now look at these flowers, taken 
 from the opposite tree. 
 
 Prescott. -- The stigma is in these. 
 
 Teacher. See what kind, neighborly trees ! 
 One has the pollen, the other the ovary ; and 
 the bees and the breeze work and carry for 
 them. In Nature all things help each other. 
 Now on which tree will the seeds or' the fruit 
 grow ? 
 
 Gertrude. On the opposite tree. 
 
 Maggie. Oh, yes ; I remember all the Maple- 
 keys that hang down red from some of the Maple- 
 
106 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 trees, and then turn brown and fall to the ground 
 and blow away. 
 
 Teacher. Here is a Pussy Willow twig ; how 
 will this little furry bud develop ? 
 
 Carrie. Into a drooping spray of flowers 
 called a catkin. 
 
 Maggie. There are two kinds of Willow cat- 
 kins : one is a spray of little light flowers ; the 
 other is more green, and less like a flower. 
 
 Teacher. Can you guess, then, which catkin 
 has the pollen, and which the stigma or ovary, 
 and, therefore, the seed ? 
 
 Louie. The flowery catkin has the pollen, and 
 the other the seed, I should think. 
 
 Teacher. Have you ever seen the seed-catkin 
 all covered with down ? 
 
 Several. No ; that is green without the fuzz. 
 
 Others. Yes ; later the seed-catkin is covered 
 with down. 
 
 Teacher. When the seed-catkin has ripened, 
 and the seeds are all ready to plant, they burst 
 out into a feathery, white down. What for, 
 Ethel ? 
 
 Ethel. Is it so that the wind will blow the 
 seeds about ? 
 
ORAL LESSONS. IO? 
 
 All. Oh, yes ; like the Dandelion-puff and the 
 Thistle. 
 
 Teacher. You are right ; like the beautiful 
 Milkweed-seeds also. Now you see why the 
 Maple-seeds are winged for the same purpose. 
 What is this twig ? How very , pretty ! How 
 should you judge this to be from an Oak-tree ? 
 
 Dolly. I should know it from the shape of 
 the leaves. 
 
 Teacher. What is the blossom ? 
 
 Class. A catkin. Six catkins in a cluster, 
 and the clusters all around the twig, hanging 
 below the leaves. 
 
 Teacher. Do you see both pollen and stigma 
 here ? 
 
 Maggie. There is no stigma in these flowers. 
 Where are the seed-flowers, Mrs. H. ? 
 
 Teacher. What do you see close to the stem, 
 below the catkins ? 
 
 Carrie. Little, cunning acorns, just beginning 
 to grow. 
 
 Teacher. What do you see at the point of the 
 little acorns ? 
 
 Sylvia. I see three little stems or hairs. 
 
 Teacher. They are the three parts of the 
 
IOS HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 stigma, and when the pollen from the catkins falls, 
 it is received by them and carried to the ovary, 
 making the seed of the Acorn. Look, now, at 
 these Horse-chestnut blossoms. Examine them 
 with regard to the pollen and the stigma. 
 
 Hetta. Mine have the pollen but no stigma. 
 
 Lily. Mine have the pollen and stigma both. 
 
 Louie. One of mine has the pollen and the 
 other the ovary. 
 
 Teacher. You all are right. Some of the flow- 
 ers have both pollen and ovary; some have only 
 stamens bearing the pollen, and, therefore, will 
 have no seeds ; they are the staminate or sterile 
 flowers. Others have the stigma, the top of 
 the pistil which leads to the ovary, and, there- 
 fore, bear seeds ; so are called the pistillate or 
 fertile flowers. Now tell me whether the catkins 
 of the Oak are staminate or pistillate. 
 
 Class. Staminate. 
 
 Teacher. And how is it with the early Pussy 
 Willow catkins ? 
 
 L ouie.-- They are staminate, and the green 
 ones pistillate. 
 
 Teacher. - - The Maple-tree which bears the 
 staminate flowers ? 
 
ORAL LESSONS. IOQ 
 
 Class. -- The one close to the window, and the 
 opposite one has the pistillate flowers and the 
 seeds. 
 
 Teacher. There are, then, three methods of 
 arrangement for the fruiting of the plant. One 
 flower may contain both stamens and pistil like 
 the Rose, and most of the flowers we see ; or, one 
 plant may have the staminate flowers and another 
 the pistillate, like the Willow and the Maple ; or, 
 the same plant may have the staminate flower on 
 one part, and the pistillate flower on another part 
 of it, like the Oak and like the lovely Indian Corn, 
 whose plume of staminate flowers waves on high, 
 while its sea-green silk pistils are folded in their 
 beautiful sheath below, waiting for the grains of 
 pollen to seek its long, silky channels, and rest in 
 its ovary cells, all to develop into the ripened 
 rows of amber corn, the matchless beauty of the 
 set gems of the corn-fruit. In the Chestnut we 
 have a combination of all these methods. Using 
 the technical terms, which we will analyze to 
 understand, we find, therefore, the Monoecious 
 form, like the Oak ; the Dioecious, like the Wil- 
 lows ; and the Polygamous, like the Chestnuts. 
 
 Mabel. I think this is the most interesting 
 
HO no IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 part of botany, to watch how the flowers make 
 seeds. 
 
 Carrie. It seems as if they all knew some- 
 thing ; do they ? 
 
 Maggie. There must be a thought about it. 
 
 Teacher. How sweet it is to see and feel that 
 thought, and know that it is the same thought 
 that is trying to act in our lives as easily and 
 truly as it acts in the flowers ! 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 
 I. 
 
 Teacher. Prescott, yesterday I saw you draw- 
 ing Dick up Union Street in your cart. Was it 
 as easy for you as to draw him down the hill ? 
 
 Prescott. No, ma'am ; but I had to hold back 
 almost as hard going down. 
 
 Teddy. The cart goes itself down the hill. 
 
 Teacher. Oh, no; something is pulling it down 
 which you didn't see. Let go of that book in 
 your hand ; what made it go down ? 
 
 Willie. It is heavy. 
 
 Teacher. What does heavy mean ? 
 
 Prescott. Hard to hold up. 
 
 Teddy. It pushes hard. 
 
 Teacher. There is a power of the earth which 
 pulls everything toward it. It is called gravita- 
 tion. You may all write the word. It makes 
 things seem heavy when they push hard toward 
 in 
 
112 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 the earth, or have much weight. Did you ever 
 try to lift something which you could not lift, 
 which was too heavy for you ? 
 
 Lottie. I tried to lift Willie's boat, and it was 
 too heavy. 
 
 Teacher. The earth pulled it stronger than 
 you could. The earth pulls all things all the 
 time. Can you think of anything which will not 
 drop when you let it go ? 
 
 Madge. A feather will fly away, and a seed 
 and leaves sometimes. 
 
 Teacher. There is something you do not see 
 which holds them up, although the earth still 
 pulls them down. Who knows what ? 
 
 Maggie. The wind blows the leaves, and the 
 hot air will keep up any light thing over the 
 register. 
 
 Teacher. The air holds up everything, some- 
 what. A feather is so spread out, and there is so 
 little of it, really, that the earth does not pull it 
 down so strongly as the air holds it up, and the 
 hot air pushes up still more than cold air. If you 
 hold a piece of paper on the palm of your hand, 
 your hand holds it up ; if you take your hand 
 away, it goes slowly to the ground, because the 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. I 13 
 
 air still partially supports it, and its substance is 
 so spread out that it gives a large surface for the 
 air to support, compared with the weight of it, or 
 the force with which the earth pulls it down. 
 Now a great part of the force which men use is 
 used in resisting this force of the earth, or in lift- 
 ing things which are heavy. The other day I saw 
 a man lifting very heavy bales into a high window 
 in a warehouse. How do you suppose he did it ? 
 by just pulling them up with a rope ? 
 
 Teddy. I guess he had a pulley. 
 
 Teacher. So he did. Show me what a pulley 
 is ; draw a picture of one on the board. 
 
 Teddy. He had a rope fastened to the bale, 
 and it went up over a little wheel which was fas- 
 tened to a beam high up, and the rope hung 
 down the other side of the wheel for the man 
 to pull. 
 
 Prescott. When he pulls down, the bale goes 
 up. 
 
 Teacher. That is a contrivance to make it 
 easier to pull. Such contrivances are called 
 machines. Did you ever see a man try to lift a 
 rock which was too heavy for him, by any other 
 machine ? Prescott, if you had been with Lottie 
 
114 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 when she tried to lift that boat, what could you 
 have done to help her ? 
 
 Prescott. I might have pried it up with a 
 stick ; or, if I could have got a crowbar like that 
 the men had to get those stones for the cellar up 
 on to the truck, I could have done it easily. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, the crowbar ; that is a ma- 
 chine ; a very simple one ; only an iron bar. It 
 is like having a very long, strong arm, like a 
 gorilla. Aren't you glad that God gave a man a 
 mind to think of machines, and did not have to 
 make him like an ape ? What other machines has 
 man invented to help lift ? I will make this 
 square to represent the heavy thing which is to 
 be lifted. Here is a line for the string to lift it 
 by. Now let us have it wind over this axle, which 
 has a handle at the end for a man to turn. What 
 does that look like a picture of ? 
 
 Class. A well, and drawing up the bucket. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, it is a machine called a wind- 
 lass. It is easier to put the strength of a man, or 
 of a horse, or of steam, or any other power upon 
 turning that handle, or what is the same thing, 
 turning a wheel, than it is to set it at work merely 
 lifting. Now, in the pulley, which is a string run- 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. US 
 
 ning over a wheel, you can easily set some other 
 force than man's strength at work. I will make 
 this picture of the bale of goods, and the rope 
 which lifts it running over the wheel. Now, in- 
 stead of having a man pull the rope down, sup- 
 pose I want a horse to pull it ; what shall I do ? 
 
 Teddy. Make another wheel, fastened to the 
 floor of the loft, and let the rope go round that, so 
 that a horse can be fastened to it and walk along, 
 pulling it, and back when he lets it down., 
 
 Teacher. Suppose I can't get the horse up in- 
 to the loft very well ? 
 
 Prescott. Why, let him be down on the 
 ground, and have the other pulley down there, 
 and it will be all the same, just as they do at 
 the coal yards to load the vessels with coal. 
 
 Teacher. Tell me of all the machines you 
 have seen, for the next lesson. Write the names 
 of them on a paper, and be ready to explain when 
 and how they worked when you saw them ; and if 
 you ever have something to do which you think 
 at first you cannot do, set your wits at work to 
 think of a way to get some other power to help 
 you. Invent a machine to do your work for you. 
 That is the way for a Yankee boy or 
 
 Sj'JjasiT! 
 &trA**\^ 
 
II 6 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 for every one who wants to accomplish much in 
 the world. 
 
 II. 
 
 Teacher. Here is the ash-cart, children ; there 
 are three barrels full of ashes. They will be 
 heavy for the man to lift. 
 
 Prescott. I know how he will get them up. 
 He will take the back-board out, and lean it up 
 against the cart and roll the barrel up. 
 
 Teddy. Then all the ashes will fall out. 
 
 Prescott. Well, if they were flour-barrels, he 
 could roll them up. 
 
 Teacher. Suppose they were flour-barrels, why 
 would he roll them up ? 
 
 Willie. It isn't so hard to lift them. 
 
 Teacher. The board partly supports them ; it 
 is a machine ; it makes it easier to overcome 
 gravitation, and adds to the force of the man. 
 That board, or anything which gives a slanting 
 surface on which a weight is raised, is an inclined 
 plane. The meaning of the name is clear. Did 
 you ever see a man chop wood, and then put a 
 wedge like this (>) in the split, and drive it in 
 to complete the separation of the wood ? 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 1 17 
 
 Madge. Is that a machine ? 
 
 Teacher. What is each long side of it ? 
 
 Ethel. An inclined plane. 
 
 Teacher. The wedge is a machine, then,- a 
 double inclined plane. Will it split the wood 
 across, as you might saw it ? 
 
 Helen. You have to drive it in with the grain. 
 
 Teacher. Just as the axe goes in. Now what 
 is the axe ? 
 
 Frank. That is a machine. 
 
 Teacher. Is there any inclined plane about it ? 
 
 Teddy. It is just like a wedge. 
 
 Teacher. That is true ; it is a wedge with a 
 handle for the man to use in applying the force of 
 his muscle to drive the wedge in. What is the 
 wedge used for besides splitting ? You cannot 
 tell. Did you ever see men raising a building or 
 a ship ? 
 
 Maggie. I saw them launch a ship, and they 
 hammered in under it to lift it. Were they driv- 
 ing wedges ? 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; they drive great wedges in 
 under the keel ; if they drive a small one at first, 
 then they can drive in a larger one afterwards, 
 and so raise the ship quite off the ways to launch 
 
Il8 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT 1 ? 
 
 it into the water. Sometimes to press things 
 very tightly wedges are used, to squeeze seeds 
 together or fruit, to get the oil or juice. Wedges 
 are used in many ways. I want to make a hole 
 in this wood ; I cannot press a blunt end through 
 it immediately, so I take a wedge which has an 
 inclined plane all around it, this pin, or a nail, 
 or an awl, and push it in ; the resistance of the 
 wood is overcome gradually. 
 
 Gertrude. I never knew that a pin is a ma- 
 chine. 
 
 Teacher. What is a knife ? Are not all sharp, 
 cutting instruments wedges ? Scissors are two 
 wedges pivoted together. See, they work on both 
 sides of what is cut, and meet in the middle. 
 But what is it that keeps the wedge where it is 
 driven ? It might slip back, by the pressure on 
 the inclined plane. 
 
 Teddy. It gets pinched in. 
 
 Teacher. It is friction which holds it ; the 
 roughness of the wedge and the substance which 
 it rests in act upon each other to hold it still, 
 until some stronger force of driving is used again. 
 If you use force to put a thing in motion, when 
 does it stop ? 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN pnysics. 119 
 
 Madge. When anything stops it. 
 
 Teacher. What stops a ball after it is thrown ? 
 
 Teddy. It falls down. 
 
 Teacher. The earth stops it by gravitation, 
 but it stops it gradually, because the force which 
 started the ball yields gradually to the force of 
 gravitation, and something else. If you should 
 start a ball rolling on a plane, why does it stop ? 
 Will it stop sooner on a rough surface than on a 
 smooth one ? 
 
 All. Oh, yes. 
 
 Maggie. It is the rubbing on the surface it 
 rolls on which stops it. 
 
 Teacher. That is friction. There is less fric- 
 tion the smoother the surfaces, but there is some 
 friction however smooth the surfaces ; and all the 
 friction is not in those surfaces, but a part of it 
 in the air. That is what stops a thing moving 
 through the air. Even it it were not for gravi- 
 tation, the friction of passing through the air 
 would stop it. So you see friction stops a mov- 
 ing thing and holds it in its place with much 
 power. If you rub things together very quickly, 
 the friction makes heat and even fire. This was 
 the way in which people used to make a blaze. 
 
120 HO W SHALL MY CHILD J5E TAUGHT* 
 
 If a body moves very swiftly through the air, it 
 will at last take fire. 
 
 Teddy. Rockets will. 
 
 Teacher. Rockets are set on fire before they 
 begin to move ; but meteors or shooting-stars are 
 great bodies of metal which are sent spinning 
 through the earth's atmosphere by the great force 
 of gravitation, and they move so far and so 
 swiftly that they take fire by friction with the air, 
 and burn and melt as they whizz by, until they 
 fall to the earth, and cool to look like a great 
 mass of iron-ore. We see them flashing along 
 the sky some nights, and I have even heard them 
 whizz. Friction has to be taken into account, in 
 considering the effect of any application of force. 
 It stops and it holds. It makes heat and flame 
 and electricity. It is greater in proportion to the 
 roughness of the substances it affects. I was in 
 a train of cars once when they had to stop be- 
 cause the wheels had grown so hot. 
 
 Prescott. They ought to have oiled them 
 more, and then it would not have happened. 
 
 Teacher. The oil would have made the sur- 
 faces smoother, so that the friction would have 
 been much less. Do you know how very much 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 121 
 
 oil is used to make surfaces smooth and lessen 
 friction ? 
 
 Carrie. Machinery has to be oiled very often, 
 to go smoothly. I saw a man climbing all over 
 the great engine in the steamer, with an oil-can. 
 
 TeacJier. Did you ever rub sealing-wax on 
 woollen until it would attract other things toward 
 it, such as hair or feathers ? 
 
 Agnes. I saw Louis doing it one day, and the 
 sealing-wax was hot. 
 
 Teacher. That is because the friction brought 
 out heat and electricity. The heat and electricity 
 must have been both in the wax ; the friction 
 brought it out. Some day we will say more about 
 this ; but now we are thinking about friction only 
 as a means to stop and hold ; sometimes of use, 
 and sometimes an obstacle to be overcome. An 
 obstacle is not worth minding if we can only 
 bring force enough to overcome it. We can 
 soon learn to turn it to good account. Friction 
 we may set aside for the present, and go back to 
 our machines. You may all cut an inclined plane 
 from this paper, and wind it around your slate 
 pencil from the wide edge. What does this line 
 twining around the pencil remind you of ? 
 
HOtV 3HALL MY CtilLt) BE TAVGHT! 
 
 Willie. It looks like a screw. 
 
 Teacher. Here is a real screw. Twist it into 
 this hole in the wood. The inclined plane is 
 turned all around in the hole, gradually working 
 its way wholly within. If the winding edge of 
 the plane is sharp, it cuts its way in like a revolv- 
 ing wedge, or it pushes the resisting wood up its 
 spiral inclined plane, with a gradual force, easier 
 to apply than the sudden blow upon a nail, which 
 is only a straight wedge. Remember, then, the 
 inclined plane, the wedge, and the screiv are vari- 
 ous forms of the same thing, and used in every 
 variety of machine to assist man in the application 
 of force to do his work. This force or poiver may 
 be man's muscle or the muscular power of some 
 animal, the steam of an engine, water, air, elec- 
 tricity, or any of the forces of the earth which 
 man has learned to use. The machines help the 
 natural forces to do more work and with greater 
 ease than would be possible without them. 
 
 III. 
 
 Teacher. Let us see what we know of the 
 forces of water, and how they may be used. If 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 123 
 
 I put water in this cup, and now punch a hole in 
 the bottom, what happens ? 
 
 Holly. The water runs out. 
 
 Teacher. Now I will punch a hole in the side. 
 
 Prescott. The water runs out there, too. 
 
 Teacher. Now this teapot is full of water, but 
 I am pouring in more ? 
 
 Lottie. It is running out of the spout and 
 over the top. 
 
 TeacJier. And the spout is as high as the top, 
 so the water is pushing up as high as the top. 
 Which way does water push, then ? 
 
 Lily. It pushes every way. 
 
 Teacher. If I put this book in the empty 
 pitcher, does it change the shape of the book ? 
 
 Madge. No. 
 
 Teacher. Here is some water in this cup. 
 What shape is the water ? 
 
 Teddy. It is the shape of the cup. 
 
 Teacher. Suppose it were in a square box 
 what shape would it be ? 
 
 Prescott. Water will be the shape of what it 
 is in, of course. 
 
 Teacher. Now, if I put the water that is in 
 the cup into the pitcher, will it change its shape ? 
 
124 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 AIL It will. 
 
 Teacher. The water spreads itself every way, 
 then, and changes its shape, and a solid thing 
 does not. 
 
 Madge. Why does it ? 
 
 Teacher. I cannot explain it more than to say 
 that the particles of a solid thing hold together 
 more strongly than they push apart, but the par- 
 ticles of water push apart as easily as they hold 
 together. And how is it with air ? Does that 
 push apart more easily or hold more firmly to- 
 gether than water? 
 
 Teddy. It pushes apart more easily. 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; it fills everything, no matter 
 what its shape or how large. Its particles sepa- 
 rate as far as they can from each other. Now, 
 as to water, you all have faucets in your houses ; 
 where does the water that runs from them start ? 
 
 Prescott. I know ; from the Reservoir ; and it 
 is pumped there from a pond further off. It runs 
 through pipes in the streets and houses. 
 
 Teacher. Have you ever known whether the 
 Reservoir is built up high or dug down deep ? 
 
 Lily. My uncle planned it, and it is a high 
 building. 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 125 
 
 Teacher. It has to be high. I will show you 
 with this bent glass tube. I dip this end in the 
 water, and now look and tell me how high it 
 comes up in the other side of the tube. 
 
 Holly. Nearly as high as the top of the cup. 
 
 Teacher. Water will run as high and no 
 higher than it was where it started. Now, some 
 of the houses in town are up on a hill, and high ; 
 so in order that the water shall run into their 
 pipes, it must start as high as they are, and the 
 Reservoir was built as high as that. 
 
 Prescott. At Teddy's they have a tank up in 
 the attic ; I thought that was so that the water 
 would run down the pipes. 
 
 Teacher. That was put there before the water 
 from the Acushnet Reservoir was brought in 
 pipes, and it was arranged to be filled by the 
 spout from the roof, I suppose. Do you use it 
 now, Teddy ? 
 
 Teddy. No ; only to sail boats in it, and wade in 
 it. Prescott got up to his knees in it, the other day. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, I remember it very well. He 
 had to pull his boat along by a string, as he 
 couldn't use the force of the water to push it. 
 How do you get your boat along in the river ? 
 
126 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT* 
 
 Madge. We row it. 
 
 Teacher, What force of the water do you 
 use ! 
 
 Holly. The oar pushes against the water, and 
 the water pushes back on the oar. 
 
 Teacher. Which has to push the harder? 
 
 Lily. The water. 
 
 Prescott. No ; the oar. 
 
 Madge. Why, one has to push just as hard as 
 the other. 
 
 Teacher. Right. And that brings the boat up 
 to the oar when the rower leans back. Now, all 
 make believe row, and think how it is. See : you 
 depend on the pushing or resisting force of the 
 water against the oar and the force of the man's 
 arm to oppose it. Once they had boats with 
 three tiers of oars, ships with a large number 
 of rowers. 
 
 Holly. I know it. That was like the Grecian 
 ships, and the ships of Xerxes, the triremes. 
 
 Teacher. How does the " Martha's Vineyard " 
 go? 
 
 Lily. It goes by steam. 
 
 Teacher. The steam alone wouldn't make 
 it go. 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 127 
 
 Prescott. The side-wheels make it go. 
 
 Madge. The steam turns the wheels. 
 
 Teacher. Who has observed the wheels ? 
 
 Ethel. They are like a good many oars mov- 
 ing, when the wheel turns round. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, you must notice that when you 
 go off in her, this summer. How is it with the 
 propeller? Who knows? What does the steam 
 do to make it go ? 
 
 Maggie. It turns a screw of four great curved 
 scullers, at the end of the boat, in the water, and 
 the Nonquitt boat goes in the same way. My 
 father showed me about it, as we came up to town, 
 one day. How does a ship go ? What moves it, 
 Mrs. Hopkins ? 
 
 Teacher. You know what the sails are for. 
 The water does not make it go, it only retards it ; 
 the wind must push harder on its sails than the 
 water against its hull, or it will stand still, unless 
 it gets into a current of moving water, when it will 
 move with the tide. There are hundreds of ways 
 in which the pushing force of water is used ; 
 wheels of factories are turned, and all sorts of 
 contrivances and inventions are used to make the 
 most of it, to get all the advantages possible from 
 
128 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 it. But here is something else. This towel has 
 one end only in the water ; this sponge touches 
 the wet table only on its under side ; does all the 
 rest of it remain dry ? 
 
 Class. Oh, no ; the sponge is wet all over 
 now, and the towel is growing wet. 
 
 Teacher. The other morning I found the floor 
 near my sink was quite wet, and then I discovered 
 the towel thrown over with one end in the basin 
 where there was some water, and the other end 
 dripping over the edge of the sink. How was that ? 
 
 Teddy. The towel and the sponge suck up 
 the water. 
 
 Teacher. The water climbs by little threads, 
 or through little holes or tubes ; it creeps up the 
 sides, and fills the pores of the sponge, the web of 
 the cloth, the cells of the plants and trees, in 
 which the sap rises and oozes through the thin 
 membranes. It climbs up a chain, too, in the 
 same way ; sometimes very fast. 
 
 Madge. I know it does in our chain-pump. I 
 draw the chain up, and soon the water comes so 
 fast that it comes out of the spout, and I hold my 
 face over and drink. 
 
 Teacher. Now, you can often get this climbing. 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 1 29 
 
 force of the water, its disposition to follow a fine 
 thread or tube, its capillary attraction as it is 
 called, to help do something important. Keep 
 it in mind, you may want to use it. If you 
 were very thirsty, and saw a deep well but nothing 
 to draw with, could you contrive some way to get 
 a drink ? 
 
 Lily. I could. I'd tear my dress up and make 
 a long string, and suck up some water out of it 
 when one end was down in the well. 
 
 Teacher. Before the next lesson, I want you 
 to think of some other forces of water, and how 
 they are used. Perhaps you can discover or invent 
 something. 
 
 Holly. Do you believe we can ? 
 
 Teacher. I have no doubt you can, if you 
 watch and think. Most likely it will be some- 
 thing that has been discovered or invented by 
 somebody else, but that is no matter. It is just as 
 good for you to find it out yourself, as if no one 
 else had done it. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Teacher. If you wish to move your arm, Holly, 
 how do you do it ? 
 
13 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Holly I make myself. 
 
 Maggie. You told us in Physiology that the 
 will is carried from the brain to the muscles by 
 the nerves, which contract the muscles, so that the 
 arm moves ; it goes by a sort of telegraph, so 
 quickly that we don't know any more than 
 that when we want our arms to move, they 
 move. 
 
 Teacher. You have learned to control the force 
 there is in your arm ; you didn't know how, when 
 you were a little baby, and had to learn by trying. 
 I saw a child as large as you, Holly, that hadn't 
 learned, because his mind was too foolish, and he 
 couldn't manage his arms or legs at all ; he lay on 
 a cushion like a little baby, only because he had 
 not the sense to learn to use the force of his own 
 muscles. Can you control any other muscles be- 
 sides your own, Prescott ? If you have a load to 
 draw which is too heavy for you to pull, what can 
 you do ? 
 
 Prescott. I can get a horse to pull it. 
 
 Edith. Or an ox. 
 
 Dolly. Or my dog ; he carries a basket, or 
 draws my sled. 
 
 Teacher, Of what advantage is it to make the 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 13! 
 
 horse and the wheel do it ? Could not a man use 
 the saw and cut the wood with the force of his 
 own muscle ? 
 
 Dolly. Yes ; but the horse is stronger, and 
 can do it a great deal faster with the wheel. I 
 saw a horse going round and round in the street, 
 the other day, and winding a rope about an axle 
 so as to pull a house along. 
 
 Carrie. I saw, down on the wharf, a horse go- 
 ing forward and back, to hoist a box of coal and 
 lower the empty box. 
 
 Teacher. Did you ever see a dog's muscle 
 used to do work ? Dolly uses her dog. 
 
 Gertrude. When I was in New York with 
 mamma, I used to see the dog-carts go round every 
 morning to get rubbish. 
 
 Teacher. Once people used to roast meat be- 
 fore the fire ; they had to keep it turning all the 
 time. It was tiresome for a boy or woman, so they 
 trained dogs to be turnspits. 
 
 Maggie. How funny ! I have seen a bird 
 trained to lift its food into the cage with a string, 
 and a monkey to fire a gun. 
 
 Lily. In the cold countries, the reindeer draws 
 the sledge. 
 
I3 2 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Sylvia. In South America, the beautiful little 
 llamas carry the loads down the mountains. 
 
 Holly. In the hot countries, they use elephants 
 to carry loads. 
 
 Prescott. In the desert, camels. 
 
 Teacher. Can man control all these ani- 
 mals, and make them do his work, without 
 trouble ? 
 
 Holly. No'm ; they have to be trained. 
 
 Prescott. They have hard work to train them, 
 too, and they have to tame them first. 
 
 Teacher. Do you think man will ever have un- 
 der his control all animals, the wild animals, - 
 so that they will do his work ? 
 
 Maggie. Perhaps so. Do you think so ? 
 
 Teacher. I think it possible in the future : 
 for man is made as the head and king of all the 
 forces of the earth, to control and subdue them. 
 He has to learn to make the most of his own 
 forces by training his body and mind, and then 
 he can add to this power of his own the power of 
 other animals which he tames and trains ; because 
 God made man to have dominion over all creatures 
 of the earth, to do his bidding. 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 133 
 
 V. 
 
 Teacher. Prescott, see how the gutters run 
 to-day ; the snow is thawing fast. Do you think 
 of any work you can make that swift stream do ? 
 
 Prescott. I see it push a good deal of slush 
 along itself; it is' doing its own work. 
 
 Ethel. Oh, Mrs. Hopkins, don't you remem- 
 ber all that you read to us out of the Fairy Land 
 of Science, about the water and ice and snow ? 
 They do wonderful things that men cannot do. 
 
 Teacher. - - That is true, but they will at the 
 same time stop and do a little job for us. If 
 Holly should put a little wheel out there, would 
 the gutter stream turn it for him ? 
 
 Holly. I guess it would. I should stick the 
 wheel up in lumps of snow so that it would just 
 dip into the gutter, and the stream would turn it 
 quick enough. 
 
 Teacher. Suppose it didn't turn as fast as you 
 wanted it to ? 
 
 Prescott. We could make a dam and a water- 
 fall, and then it would go rushing. 
 
 Teacher. - A. great deal of work is done in this 
 way, by using the force of running or falling 
 
134 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 water to turn wheels. I have seen an immense 
 wheel turned by water falling over a great dam, 
 built in the Merrimac River, and this wheel by 
 belts turned a great many wheels and spindles in 
 a large cotton factory. Ethel, do you remember 
 the windmills on the road to Nonquitt. 
 
 Ethel. Oh, yes ; those great sails are turned 
 by the wind and pump the water up to the top of 
 the high frame, so that it will trickle clown 
 through all the branches laid upon the frames 
 below and leave salt upon them. Mamma ex- 
 plained it to me one day. 
 
 Edith. I can make a windmill myself. 
 
 Teacher. So you can ; but you must try and 
 see if you can make it do any work. You want to 
 use the force of the wind. What a tremendous 
 force it has ; and the force of the air as you push 
 against it is very great to resist you. You must 
 think how you can use its power to resist, as well 
 as its power to move. Air and water hold great 
 forces, which man must learn to control. He 
 must first find out how they will act, and then 
 how to use them. The force of the earth drawing 
 all things to itself is another force we can use. 
 Suppose two boys are throwing snowballs. One 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. 135 
 
 boy stands on a level with the mark he aims at, 
 but the other goes up on a high place and throws 
 them down ; which is the wiser boy ? 
 
 Dolly. The boy who went up high, for it is 
 easier to throw down. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, that boy got the earth to help 
 him. It is the force of gravitation. A man by 
 the name of Isaac Newton first watched an apple 
 falling from a tree and thought about it until he 
 understood that the earth draws all things toward 
 itself. This explained a great many things, and 
 led to other discoveries. The earth has many 
 forces. We have only begun to find them out. 
 They are waiting like restive horses in their 
 stalls for man to bring out and use. Perhaps you 
 can discover some of them. All is done by ob- 
 serving and thinking, watching, trying and con- 
 triving. 
 
 The brain of man is given to him by God to use 
 that he may be the master of the earth, that he 
 may make the air, the earth and the water, and 
 even the sun, moon and stars, work for 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 
 I. 
 
 AFTER an exercise in calisthenics, the six 
 youngest pupils remain standing. 
 
 Teacher. What nice twisting bodies you have, 
 just like india-rubber ! Is that what you are made 
 of? 
 
 All (laughing). No ; we're made of flesh. 
 1 Teacher. How do you keep up straight, then ? 
 
 Prescott. We have bones. 
 
 l^eacher. Any bones like this (showing a fish- 
 spine) ? 
 
 Holly. No ; I guess not. 
 
 Teacher. When you undress to-night, feel up 
 and down your back, and tell what you feel. You 
 may feel of each other now, gently. Madge, what 
 do you feel on Lily's back ? 
 
 Madge. Knobs, all in a row. 
 
 Lily. So do I, on Madge's back. 
 136 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 137 
 
 Holly. It goes all up and down my back. 
 
 Teacher. You may as well call it your back- 
 bone. It is something like this of a fish. 
 
 Prescott. What makes the knobs ? 
 
 Teacher. Look at this. Is it one bone ? 
 
 Lily. No ; it is a good many little ones. 
 
 Teacher. You can count the knobs on your 
 back to-night. You should find twenty-five. Each 
 is a little bone with points sticking out around 
 it, and a hole in the middle, through which a soft 
 cord runs. So your backbone is really twenty- 
 four small bones, like beads strung on a string, 
 and each has hooks with which it holds on to the 
 other, as they are all caught together. (Show a 
 vertebra.) Now all bend over, and then back, very 
 far and fast, back and forth, back and forth. Do 
 you hear all those little bones rattle or crack as 
 they move, and the cord strain ? 
 
 All. No, no ; they don't make a bit of noise. 
 
 Teacher. Isn't that funny ? One would think 
 they would all go creak, creak. If they did, what 
 should you think would cure it ? 
 
 Lottie. I should think they would be oiled. 
 
 Prescott. I should put something soft between 
 them. 
 
138 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Teddy. How is it fixed ? 
 
 Teacher. Why, God thought just as you do, 
 and he put little soft cushions between them, and 
 little bags of oil to squeeze against them, so that 
 they do not rub and grate on each other. 
 
 Girls. How good ! (Boys look serious.) 
 
 Teacher. What keeps you so firm and round, 
 Prescott ? See, when I clasp my hands on your 
 sides and about your chest, I can't squeeze it in 
 like a rubber doll. 
 
 Holly. But you can down here. 
 
 Madge. There are bones up here, and not 
 down below. 
 
 Teacher. Now feel of yourselves, all under 
 your arms down to your waist. Do you feel the 
 bones ? 
 
 Lily. I feel bars going in a ring just like 
 hoops. 
 
 Teacher. Now feel in front. Do you feel the 
 bars there ? 
 
 All. No ; it is flat and hard. 
 
 Teacher. One flat bone in front, and hoops on 
 each side. I brought these old bones to show you ; 
 they are the bones around a horse's chest, a good 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 139 
 
 deal like yours. I found them out in that old field 
 by Cedar Street. They were joined to a back- 
 bone, also, at these ends. These bars are a part'of 
 the little bones of the backbone, reaching around 
 the chest to this flat bone, the breastbone. So 
 your chest is all framed in, isn't it, Lily ? Here 
 is a picture of it. Some of these bones are a little 
 soft near the breastbone : and in you the breast- 
 bone is not very hard, but it will grow harder. 
 These bones that hoop around are called ribs. 
 The other day Mr. Bliss fell from the roof of a 
 house, and broke two of these ribs. He has to be 
 very still while they mend themselves, and it will 
 hurt him a good deal. If more of them had 
 broken it might have killed him, for the parts of 
 the body within the chest cannot bear to be hurt 
 without killing us. 
 
 Madge. Jennie broke a bone in her leg," the 
 other day, and the doctor tied her leg up in pieces 
 of wood, and she has got to lie in bed three weeks. 
 
 Teacher. Feel of your heads. Squeeze them. 
 Are they hard ? 
 
 All. Yes, very hard ; it is all bone. 
 
 Teacher. The bone of your head is called the 
 skull. It is pieced together in little jagged seams 
 
14 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 in these places, here, and here, and here. It is 
 a very good way to join bones together so that 
 they won't come apart, and so that if you hit one 
 part it won't jar the other parts as much. The 
 cushions in your backbone save a great deal of jar, 
 too. Just think how it would hurt you to knock 
 the end of your backbone, if that and the skull 
 were one solid bone. I guess it would make your 
 head ache. 
 
 II. 
 
 Teacher. You all examined your bodies last 
 night, you say, to find out what bones make its 
 frame-work. Tell me, Prescott, what you found 
 out about your chest. See, when I feel of Pres- 
 cott about here [the chest], he isn't soft, like a 
 rag-baby, and I cannot punch him like a rubber 
 doll. All feel of your chests. 
 
 Prescott. There is a bone in front, and some 
 hoops around here under my arms. 
 
 Teacher. Just like this [illustration by draw- 
 ing a model] ; these hoops join the bone in front, 
 the breastbone, and the backbone behind. See, 
 are they separate from the backbone ? 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. H 1 
 
 Lily. No, they are parts of the little spine- 
 bones. 
 
 Teacher. They are the arms of the small bones 
 stretched out to embrace you, and give you a place 
 for your breath to come and go, and for your heart 
 to beat. They are joined to the breastbone by 
 little pieces of gristle, like white india-rubber. 
 You have seen it in meat. Here are some below, 
 which are more loosely hung, so that they can 
 spread when the breath is very full. This breast- 
 bone may be partly gristle in some of you ; it will 
 grow into firm bone by and by. The breastbone, 
 the spine, and the ribs make a nice room for some 
 very important parts of your body. Take a good 
 long breath, with your hands each side of your 
 breastbone. Do you feel the ribs push out? 
 
 Madge. Yes'm, and I feel something push 
 down and swell out in front. Is that a bone? 
 
 Teacher. All breathe slowly, a strong, full 
 breath. Do you feel it as Madge says ? Well, 
 there is a strong wall there below to this room, 
 full of the machinery which keeps us alive. That 
 wall is not a bone ; it is called a muscle. It is a 
 strong, elastic thing, which will stretch down and 
 out as you need to have it. There is something 
 
I4 2 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 else in this nicely protected room besides the 
 breath ; feel on the left side among the ribs ; what 
 do you feel ? 
 
 Teddy. I feel a hammer. I guess they're 
 building the wall. 
 
 Teacher. Can you stop the hammer ? 
 
 All. We cannot ; it goes right along. 
 
 Teacher. It is your heart beating ; it will 
 never stop until you die. It goes like this [imitat- 
 ing the contractions with the hand], and drives 
 the blood all through your veins ; it keeps yeu 
 alive, and makes you grow ; it is like a hammer, 
 building the walls ; or like a clock, measuring off 
 the seconds of your life ; or like a drum, beating 
 to call you to do what you have to do. It makes 
 your pulse beat ; put your finger here on your 
 wrist, and feel the little hammer there. 
 
 Lottie. That's where the doctor feels my 
 pulse. 
 
 Teacher. To see how your heart is beating, or 
 how regularly and truly all the machinery is going. 
 There is something else not in the chest to be 
 taken good care of within the framework of bones 
 about it. It is your stomach, which takes in all 
 you eat, and changes it so that it can be made into 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 1 43 
 
 blood. The breath goes in and out of the wind- 
 pipe and the lungs ; the blood goes through the 
 heart, and the food into the stomach : and all 
 these are safely packed, surrounded and pro- 
 tected by spine, breastbone, and ribs. Now, stand 
 very erect, and breathe as I move my hand, very 
 strongly, and feel your ribs. Shall I tell you 
 the names by which these little bones and the 
 breastbone, also the muscle below the chest, are 
 called ? The whole backbone, made of twenty- 
 four of these little knobby bones which link to- 
 gether, is the spine ; each little bone of the spine 
 is a vertebra ; the breastbone is the sternum ; the 
 muscle is the diaphragm. To-morrow we will see 
 about the bones of the arms and legs, hands and 
 feet ; and about the joints, or how the bones move 
 upon each other. 
 
 Ethel. The bones you show us are very dry 
 and rough. Is that like our bones? 
 
 Teacher. No ; they are old and dried in the 
 sun and weather ; all the oil is dried out of them, 
 and they are brittle. Your bones are softer and 
 smoother, and more elastic ; they will grow harder 
 and more dry and brittle when you are old. What 
 are they at all like ? 
 
144 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Teddy. Something like chalk. 
 
 Teacher. Yes, and they are like chalk ; they aje 
 made of lime very largely. Have you any oppor- 
 tunity to look at your own bones, to see whether 
 they are like this ? 
 
 Ethel. I hope not : not unless we cut our 
 flesh. 
 
 Teacher. Prescott came in from recess yester- 
 day, with one of his bones in his hand. 
 
 Prescott. Oh, my old tooth ! I threw it away. 
 
 Madge. Are our teeth bones ? 
 
 Teacher. Well, what do you think ? 
 
 All. Oh, yes, they are. 
 
 Lily. But they are very smooth. 
 
 Teacher. They are dressed up a little to show, 
 with a nice, hard polish on the outside, called the 
 enamel, which protects the bone. 
 
 III. 
 
 Teacher. As you go through your calisthenics 
 I cannot help thinking how easily and rapidly you 
 can bend your arms, your wrists, your fingers, your 
 knees and ankles. How is that, Madge ? will your 
 bones bend anywhere ? 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 145 
 
 Madge. No, no ; my arms will bend only at 
 the elbows. 
 
 Teacher. How do you whirl your arm around 
 like a wheel, in this movement, then ? 
 
 Madge. Oh, it moves at the shoulder, too. 
 
 Holly. And at the wrist and fingers, in two or 
 three places. 
 
 Teacher. These places are the joints. Now, 
 all try your shoulder-joints ; can you move them 
 up or down, or backward and forward ? 
 
 Prcscott. I can move them up and down, back 
 and forth, and round and round. 
 
 Teacher. The joint is like a ball in a cup, in 
 which it can turn almost every way. The end of 
 the arm bone is a ball of bone covered with the 
 smooth, elastic skin called cartilage, as all the 
 joints are, and the shoulder is fitted together to 
 form a cup, in which the ball is held by firm elas- 
 tic cords so that it will not slip out, but can turn 
 in any direction. How convenient it is to swing 
 the arm when you throw, and how important this 
 free movement for the use of the whole arm ! 
 
 Holly. What are these bones at the shoulder ? 
 
 Teacher. There is a large three-sided bone 
 from the back, called the shoulder-blade. You can 
 
146 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 see it plainly as you push back the arm at the 
 shoulder. There is a bone plainly seen also on 
 the front of the neck, called the collar-bone. These 
 two bones join at the shoulder, and their united 
 edges form the cup. The collar-bone is fastened 
 to the breastbone, and the shoulder-blade to the 
 backbone. Can you all feel these bones plainly ? 
 
 AIL Yes, very plainly. 
 
 Teddy. Stan broke his collar-bone one day, 
 and it mended with a crack in it. 
 
 Teacher. It ought to have mended better than 
 that. Wasn't it well fitted together ? 
 
 Maggie. Well, Mrs. H., he tried to kick foot- 
 ball before it was quite well, and he fell down and 
 broke it again. 
 
 Teacher. He ought to have kept still until 
 it was firmly knit together. But it isn't a very 
 severe thing to break the collar-bone ; not at all 
 like breaking one of the large bones. You see 
 how small it is. Now all see how many ways you 
 can move the elbow. 
 
 Lottie. Only up and down. 
 
 Teacher. What kind of a joint will move only 
 one way ? Try the door. What is that which 
 makes it swing back and forth ? 
 
PRIMAKV CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 147 
 
 Prescott It is a hinge. Is that the way our 
 elbows are made ? 
 
 Teacher. Yes ; very much. The elbow and 
 fingers have hinge-joints. Make them all go. 
 You know we have to oil hinges occasionally, so 
 our joints are constantly oiled from little bags 
 near them, which' squeeze out oil when the joint 
 works. What other joint in your body is a hinge- 
 joint ? 
 
 Carrie. My knee, I think. 
 
 Teacher. Does your knee feel like your elbow ? 
 
 Madge. No ; my knee is flat and my elbow 
 pointed. 
 
 Teacher. The joint of the knee is covered by 
 a little flat bone to protect it ; the bone is the 
 knee-pan. You can make it knock against the 
 point by striking it, and it sounds like money. 
 Try it. 
 
 Prescott. I can make you think I have money 
 in my hand. 
 
 Teacher. So the knee is a hinge-joint. How 
 many ways do you find it to work ? 
 
 Teddy. It goes up and down. 
 
 Teacher. Now try your toes. Can you move 
 them like fingers ? 
 
I4 8 HOW SHALL MY CHILD Bl? TAUGHT? 
 
 Ethel. Only a little ; but when my foot is 
 bare I can do it pretty well. 
 
 Carrie. Baby moves hers all round and sticks 
 them all apart. 
 
 Teacher. I heard of a man who could sew and 
 knit with his toes, and of one who could play on 
 the piano with his. 
 
 Madge. Why could he ? 
 
 Teacher. He had practised it a good deal, be- 
 cause he had no arms. If we practised moving 
 our toes we could do much more with them than 
 we think. Any joint or other part of the body 
 will work more freely by exercising it. Whatever 
 we try to make the body do, it will come to do 
 in time ; it will obey our will if we train it. Now 
 try your wrists and ankles. Move them every 
 way you can. 
 
 Agnes. Why, they will go any way you try. 
 
 Teacher. They are quite different from the 
 other joints. Take off your round gold beads, 
 Gertrude, and they will roll on each other any 
 way : I put them in two rows and see how they 
 may turn about. The wrist and ankle have two 
 rows of little bones, four in a row, upon which the 
 hand turns ; the movement is easier and more 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 149 
 
 varied than the ball and cup joints. When Louie 
 plays on the piano see how many ways and how 
 quickly she can throw, turn, or twist the hand. 
 It is the smooth rows of little bones that do it. 
 It is much worse to break the wrist or ankle than 
 the collar-bone, and takes a long time to heal the 
 break and make the joint strong again. 
 
 Maggie. Yes ; it is a year since mamma broke 
 her ankle, and it isn't strong yet. 
 
 Teacher. Be very careful of the ankle and 
 wrist and of the knee, too. When these joints 
 are hurt, some trouble is apt to occur, because 
 they are harder to reach than some of the other 
 joints. The socket at the hip is formed by the 
 meeting of two strong large bones which support 
 the body. Your backbone is like many hinge- 
 joints ; your shoulders and hips are ball and 
 socket joints ; your elbows and knees, as well as 
 the joints of your fingers and toes, are hinge- 
 joints, and your wrists and ankles are rolling 
 joints. Now can you all repeat this ? 
 
 All repeat it correctly, and then all the class 
 are allowed to try moving as many of their joints 
 at once and as rapidly as they can, which ends the 
 lesson. 
 
15 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE class should be allowed to see a manikin 
 during the study of the bones, and be led to ob- 
 serve all the bones and joints carefully. 
 
 Teacher. We have learned what the frame- 
 work of the body is, and how its different parts are 
 joined together for our convenience. Do you 
 think it like any other skeleton ? 
 
 Teddy. It is made something like a monkey's. 
 
 Prescott. It is like animals, a good deal. 
 
 Teacher. So it is, but it stands upright, and 
 has two arms instead of two fore-legs. Neverthe- 
 less, it is on the same plan as that of all four- 
 footed animals ; you can easily see the likeness 
 and the difference. The long chain of bones in 
 the back, the spine, is the same, and gives a name 
 to all animals that have it ; they, with man, are 
 called the vertebrates, from the name of each little 
 bone of the spine, vertebra. (Let the class name 
 a variety of vertebrates.) Is this framework of 
 bones inside or outside of us ? 
 
 All. Inside. 
 
 Teacher. Are you not glad that it is clothed, 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. i$i 
 
 and made beautiful with flesh and skin ? What is 
 the flesh ? 
 
 Madge. It is the part that has blood in it. 
 
 Prescott. It is the part we eat in animals, 
 the meat. 
 
 Teddy. It is the thick part around the bones. 
 
 Teacher. You are all right. At recess I will 
 take you over to the meat-market, and show you 
 how it is wound about the bones and lies close to 
 them, with a thin skin around it which twists into 
 strong cords at the ends, and fastens the flesh 
 tightly at the joints. What are the cords and the 
 flesh for, do you think ? 
 
 Lottie. To cover the bones. 
 
 Teacher. Did you ever take a chicken-leg from 
 the kitchen, and pull the end of a tough white 
 cord, showing just where the joint was cut ? 
 
 Ethel. I have, and it pulled up the claws, and 
 acted just like walking. 
 
 Teacher. The cords at the ends of the muscles 
 do the same thing ; they move all your joints, pull 
 the bones this way or that, as you wish. The 
 muscle, that is, the flesh which is wrapped about 
 the bones, is shortened, and brings up the cords 
 to pull the bones; I cannot fully understand it, 
 
IS 2 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 but when you wish your arm to come this way, 
 your muscle knows it, and shortens to pull up the 
 arm ; it is as if your mind up here in the brain 
 sent a telegraphic despatch to the muscle to pull 
 up the arm, and it did so. God understands it, 
 who made it. There are little fine threads going 
 from the spinal cord which joins the brain, and 
 these threads are like the telegraphic wires ; they 
 carry the message of the thought and will, and are 
 called nerves. 
 
 Agnes. I never heard of anything so nice as 
 that! 
 
 Teacher. You didn't know you had a thousand 
 telegraphic wires in you ; but these little nerves 
 go to every spot in your body ; if you prick any 
 part with the finest needle, the message goes by 
 the little fine nerve that reaches that spot, all the 
 way to the spinal cord and to the brain, to tell 
 your thought where it is, and you can tell at once, 
 without having seen, where it is. Suppose it were 
 not so, how often we might be hurt without know- 
 ing how or where, and perhaps we might even be 
 killed without a chance to prevent the fatal effect 
 of some little wound. 
 
 Willie. I felt something hurting my hand, the 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 153 
 
 other day, and looked, and found a piece of a 
 needle almost hid in the flesh by my thumb, and 
 my father got some pincers and pulled it out. 
 
 TeacJier. These little nerves tell the muscle 
 what to do, and then the muscle shortens or 
 lengthens and does it. All draw your arm up and 
 forward from the elbow ; shut your hand tight, and 
 feel of the muscle. Can you feel it ? 
 
 Madge. Papa laughs at my muscle ; his is just 
 as hard as iron when he does this, and bunches 
 right out. 
 
 Prescott. I can show my muscle ; it is hard, 
 too. 
 
 Teacher. See how firm your muscle is on the 
 lower part of the leg, the calf of your leg. That 
 is large arid strong, because you use it so much, 
 jumping, running, skating, and walking. The 
 muscles grow round and firm by using. They 
 are all over you. Did you see the men at the 
 circus, who leaped so well and performed on horse- 
 back ? Their muscles were all well developed, and 
 looked as they ought to look, and made the whole 
 body very handsome and graceful, and agile and 
 strong. You must exercise all the muscles, to 
 make your body grow as it was meant to grow. 
 
*54 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 There are great bands of flesh or muscle across 
 the chest, and they ought to be strong and make 
 the chest round, the body erect, and bring the 
 shoulders back. Stand up as you think you ought 
 to look. Now take a good, long breath. If your 
 chest-muscles are strong, you can breathe better ; 
 and you remember I told you about a strong mus- 
 cle which separates the chest from the lower part 
 of the body; that is the diaphragm, and when 
 you breathe it swells out and draws in, and moves 
 up and down. Do you feel it ? 
 
 AIL I feel it. 
 
 Teacher. When you use the muscles, the 
 blood rushes quicker into the little veins, the 
 blood-vessels, which are just like a fine net-work 
 all over the body and through all the muscles. 
 The blood keeps the muscles warm and alive, for 
 it carries something to them to build them all the 
 time, as they waste from using, and it carries back 
 the wasted parts, which would decay and corrupt 
 the body otherwise, and that is just what happens 
 when a creature dies the flesh decays ; you all 
 know this. We will go and see the flesh at 
 recess, and I will show you how it lies about the 
 bones and is tied to the joints, and you can think 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. I $5 
 
 that it is very much the same as your flesh, which 
 is so much of your body and does so much of your 
 work. 
 
 V. 
 
 Teacher. Madge, we went over the rope-works, 
 yesterday, to see' the machinery. What room did 
 you think contained the most important part of 
 it all ? 
 
 Madge. The room where the engine was, for 
 that keeps it all going. 
 
 Teacher. True ; and if the engine is taken 
 good care of, and kept going just right, every 
 wheel will do its work and all will go on as it 
 should ; but if the engineer neglects his duty, or 
 has not the skill to manage the engine, some bad 
 accident or disorder might result. How nice the 
 engine was ! and the room was quite clean, and 
 the men there were busy and attending to their 
 work. Now, all put your hands on your heads. 
 Your head is your engine-room ; in it is the 
 engine the brain. How solid the walls of the 
 room are ! Where are the doors, and windows, 
 and the belts which go to turn all the wheels, and 
 keep your whole body-factory at work ? 
 
156 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Esther. The eyes are the windows. 
 
 Prescott. So are the ears. 
 
 Teacher. Through the^ eye and the ear come 
 to the brain the light and sound of what is outside 
 the body ; through the nostrils and tongue, the 
 smell and taste ; through the skin, the feeling. 
 All these are called the " senses." (Enlarge upon 
 these ad libitum^) But how does the brain com* 
 municate with the rest of the body ? How does it 
 get news of any hurt or any good to the rest of its 
 body, or send any message to other parts of the 
 body, such as a message to the arm to move, or to 
 the feet to walk ? 
 
 Lottie. You told us there were a thousand 
 telegraphs to carry messages back and forth all 
 over the body. 
 
 Teacher. -- Yes, these are the nerves. The 
 brain and the spinal cord, and the nerves are all 
 one, like a root and stem and branches. All 
 together they make up the nervous system. I 
 went into a Surgical Museum once, and in a glass 
 case I saw an exact representation of the nervous 
 system of a man by itself, separated from all other 
 parts of the body, as if it had been drawn out and 
 hung on a hook by the brain ; down from the base 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 157 
 
 of the brain behind hung the spinal cord, and from 
 it hung the principal nerves of the arms and legs, 
 with all the hundreds of little thread-nerves run- 
 ning from every part of it. It was a curious look- 
 ing thing. 
 
 Teddy. What color was it ? 
 
 TeacJier. If you could look inside your skull, 
 your engine-room, you would find it packed quite 
 close with soft gray coils and bunches. This gray 
 mass is the brain ; it pushes its substance down 
 through all those little holes in the spine, the 
 middle of the vertebrae, you remember, and 
 sends out threads all over the body from between 
 these little bones. The brain is the tool of the 
 mind. 
 
 Ethel. I thought the brain is the mind. 
 
 Teacher. When your body dies, the brain will 
 die, too. You could see a dead brain, of no more 
 use; but the mind is still alive, and I am sure 
 must have a better tool or machine than the brain, 
 although that is better and nicer than any made 
 by man. Does this machine or engine ever get 
 out of order ? 
 
 Maggie. When a man is crazy, is it out of 
 order ? 
 
15$ HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Teacher. Yes, and do you not think that is 
 almost the worst thing that could happen to us, 
 that our mind should be out of order, as we say, 
 when the mind cannot control the brain? 
 
 Mabel. Oh, yes ; for then we might kill our- 
 selves or somebody else. 
 
 Teacher. Sometimes the brain is hurt, or sick, 
 and that is often fatal, always very hard to cure. 
 If a man falls and cracks his skull and knocks a 
 piece of it against the brain, or wounds or in- 
 flames the brain ; or if he uses or excites the brain 
 too much, so that it becomes too tired, it is a very 
 serious matter, and very hard to cure ; but if it 
 is the connection between the mind and the brain 
 that is affected, then it is called insanity, and the 
 man is like a workman in a factory whose engine 
 is all out of order, and nothing can be relied 
 upon ; his machinery may kill him, and everything 
 may go contrary to the rule. Should you be 
 careful of this engine ? 
 
 Prescott. Very ; but how ? 
 
 Teaclier. Do what keeps the whole body 
 healthful ; the brain is a part of the body ; also let 
 the brain rest when it is tired. Let it work well 
 and regularly when it works, and go to sleep when 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 159 
 
 it is tired. When it is too tired to work, sleep 
 comes like a night-watchman and -shuts up the 
 doors and windows, and the engine stands still 
 The mind lets it alone and it gets rested. You 
 saw the rope-works' engine resting, and a man was 
 oiling it and polishing it and getting it all in good 
 order for work. That is what sleep does for the 
 brain. 
 
 Gertrude. How does the brain work ? 
 
 Teacher. I don't know that I can tell you. 
 There is, probably, some movement of a particular 
 part of it for every kind of work. Now, try to 
 remember something. A certain part of the brain 
 moves now, and you remember. Now try to 
 understand something hard ; another part of your 
 brain works, and you understand. The action of 
 any part of the brain strengthens that part, just 
 as I explained that the exercise of a muscle 
 strengthens that muscle. Make your mind do 
 what is hard for it to do, and it will do that easier 
 the next time ; so you improve different parts of 
 the brain and cause it to grow. You can even 
 change the shape of your head by a habit of exer- 
 cise for some part of the brain not well developed 
 or strong. If you haven't much decision, form a 
 
HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 habit of deciding questions certainly and posi- 
 tively, and your head will gradually gfow higher 
 here. 
 
 Carrie. Oh, how funny ! can I make my head 
 different ? 
 
 Teacher. I do not promise that, but people 
 who study much about it say that the mind uses 
 different parts of the brain for different kinds of 
 work, and shapes the brain and skull so as to show 
 what parts are most developed, and what kinds of 
 work the brain can do best, and I am sure as exer- 
 cise trains the muscles, so it does the brain. 
 Your mind will become weak if you do not use it, 
 just as your muscles would. The will is the con- 
 trolling force of the body, and the mind is the 
 power that uses the will. The mind ought to 
 govern and use the brain perfectly, and that is 
 what I am trying to train your minds to do. The 
 mind can control not only the brain, but the 
 whole body, much more than you think, and keep 
 it well and make it work well. 
 
 NOTE TO TEACHERS. This subject can be developed much 
 more fully, even to youngest pupils, and interests them ver) 
 much. The organs of sense each form a lesson or more, and the 
 distinction between the mind and the brain can be further dwelt 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. l6l 
 
 upon, as they all understand how the brain may have an impres- 
 sion of sight or hearing, while the mind is too much occupied to 
 attend to it ; as a child absorbed in reading does not hear what is 
 said, although the ear must still carry the sound to the brain. 
 They will then know that the mind is quite distinct from the 
 brain, and the soul can live without this body. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 
 Teacher. I told you about the brain, which I 
 called the engine. Everything in the body has to 
 be connected in some way with the brain ; all 
 knowledge of the outside world, all means of 
 reaching outside things, of doing or learning, must 
 come in different ways to it. What ways do you 
 think of, Sallie, by which you can learn about this 
 flower ? 
 
 Sallie. I can see it. 
 
 Teddy. I can smell it. 
 
 Teacher. How do you learn of the cricket, 
 which we do not see, but which you know is near ? 
 
 Prescott. I hear it chirp. 
 
 Teacher. And if I tell you to shut your eyes 
 and open your mouth, and put this into it, what 
 is it ? 
 
1 62 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Amy. It is a grape. I taste it. 
 
 Teacher. Once a little girl had the scarlet 
 fever, and it destroyed her sight, hearing, smell, 
 and taste, and it seemed as if she could never 
 have any way of knowing or doing or enjoying 
 anything. Her body seemed like a close-shut 
 prison for her mind. But there was one way left 
 open, and a good, wise man took that way, and 
 through it taught her as much as many a person 
 learns through every sense of a perfect body. 
 She is highly educated now, and has lived a happy 
 and useful life. What was that one way left to 
 her to find out about outside things ? 
 
 Teddy. She could feel of things. 
 . Teacher. Now name all these ways from the 
 brain to the outside world. 
 
 All. To see, to hear, to smell, to taste, to 
 touch. 
 
 Teacher. These activities are called the senses, 
 from a word meaning to feel, because every act 
 of the senses is a touch of the organ of sense 
 upon what is brought to it. The eye is touched 
 by waves of light, the ear by waves of sound, 
 the nostril by perfume, the tongue by flavor, the 
 skin by what is in contact with it. All these 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 163 
 
 parts feel, and the brain takes knowledge of what 
 is felt. Name the organs of sense. 
 
 All. - - The eye, the ear, the nose, the tongue, 
 the skin. 
 
 Teacher. The fingers have a very delicate and 
 wise sense of touch, although the whole surface of 
 the body can observe in the same way. In using 
 these senses we ought to take pleasure, as it is 
 intended that every healthy action of the body 
 should give more or less pleasure ; but we must 
 never take more enjoyment in the mere action of 
 the senses than in the purpose for which they act. 
 You should not eat for the mere pleasure of taste 
 when you do not need food. You should never 
 use an organ of sense until it is weary, or until 
 you cannot at once stop using it when it has 
 done your work. You must control your senses ; 
 be their master, and not their slave. It is a sad 
 thing when even a child cannot control his senses. 
 He cannot be trusted to take care of himself. A 
 man who is the slave of his senses is a brute, bad 
 and degraded in character. The senses must 
 always obey the reason and conscience. 
 
 Ethel. Where is your conscience ? 
 
 Teacher, That is a part of the soul. We 
 
164 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 cannot place it. It tells us what we ought to do 
 or ought not to do. If we obey it, it will be 
 faithful, and grow more and more clear and de- 
 cided ; if not, it becomes uncertain. It is the 
 sense of the soul, as reason is the sense of the 
 mind. The senses of all grow more delicate as 
 we use them and do not abuse them. We must 
 take good care of the organs of sense. The eye, 
 for example, is so delicate and easily hurt : what 
 protection has it ? 
 
 Esther. The eyebrows hang over it, just like 
 a porch. 
 
 Gertrude. I have often thought the eyelids 
 are like fringed curtains to cover it. They open 
 and close so quickly, before you can think of it. 
 
 Teacher. You have a little fountain of salt 
 water to wash it with. We will take the eye for 
 another lesson. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE EYE. 
 
 Teacher. Each of you look at your neighbor's 
 eye steadily. Is the eye flat or rounded ? It is 
 rounded. Yes, it is a ball. You may have seen 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 1 65 
 
 a fish's eye : it is smooth, hard, and slippery. 
 Do you see a little mirror in the middle, with 
 your own face reflected in it ? You do. That 
 mirror is a little, convex, transparent surface, like 
 glass, over the open end of a tube that leads into 
 a dark chamber, where any impression of your 
 face is spread upon the walls as it is upon the 
 photographer's plate, and that picture is carried 
 by a nerve to the brain, which perceives it and 
 sees your face. So it is with all that is before 
 the eye. That black hole is called the////?/, the 
 glass-like surface over it the cornea. Do you see 
 the blue, or gray, or brown circle outside the pupil ? 
 That is the iris. It shows little muscles to draw 
 the edges closer together and make the pupil 
 larger when it grows darker so as to give room 
 for more light to go into that dark chamber and 
 make the picture clearer on the walls. What else 
 do you see, Alice ? 
 
 Sallie. I see the pupil grow smaller and the 
 blue part grow wider. 
 
 Teacher. There are some other circular mus- 
 cles which draw the iris up over the pupil like 
 strings in a bag, when the light is too strong. 
 Roll your eyes around. Can you? 
 
1 66 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 All, Oh, yes ! every way. 
 
 Teacher. There are muscles and cords hold- 
 ing the round eyeball in its socket, which can act 
 like the cords and muscles in any part of the 
 body and turn the eye as we will. Did you ever 
 see a person cross-eyed, or with eyes turned too 
 much toward the nose ? Something was wrong 
 with some of the muscles, in that case. If you 
 use your eyes too much, you may hurt these 
 muscles ; if you hold your book too near, you will 
 hurt the eyeball, making it grow convex. If you 
 keep glancing too rapidly from a distant to a 
 near object, you will tire and weaken one of these 
 muscles and grow more and more near-sighted. 
 Always heed the caution of those who have had 
 experience in troubles of the eyes, for it is such a 
 terrible thing to have the eyes hurt or impaired 
 by abuse. Hold your head up naturally as you 
 sit erect, and read with the book at just that 
 distance where you read easily. Do not read or 
 look with one eye "only, but with two, as is de- 
 signed for you. Bathe the eyes with fresh, cold 
 water ; open them in water every day ; rest them 
 when they feel tired. If you are at all near- 
 sighted, practise looking at distant objects. Do 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. l6/ 
 
 you see the little blood-vessels roll over the eye- 
 ball ? 
 
 All. We do. 
 
 Teacher. Don't touch the eyeball. See how 
 hard the eyelid tries to prevent you. It is not 
 meant to be touched. Never try to read or work 
 by too dim a light, nor to look directly at a very 
 bright light. Why do you have two eyes ? 
 
 Prescott. To see all round a thing. 
 
 Teacher. If you look with one eye, a thing 
 looks more flat ; with two eyes we see it from two 
 different points at once. Look at this stereo- 
 graph, two pictures of one thing, are they 
 exactly alike ? 
 
 Lottie. This one has more of. the house on 
 this side of the picture. 
 
 Teacher. Do you all see that there is a very 
 little more of one side in one picture, and of the 
 other side in the other picture ? That is the 
 difference between the thing we see with our 
 two eyes. Try experiments, first with one eye 
 and then with the other. You find you do see 
 things a little more or less on one side, with 
 either eye. So we get a truer view of the whole 
 thing with both eyes at once. The nerve which 
 
1 68 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 carries the picture to the brain is the optic nerve ; 
 it has a branch to each eye. There are two little 
 transparent lenses for the rays of light to pass 
 through before the impression reaches the optic 
 nerve. You must learn more about light, and 
 how it waves, before you can understand fully 
 how the image which passes into the pupil 
 through the convex lens over it, the cornea, 
 reaches this nerve. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE SENSE OF HEARING. 
 
 Teacher. The ear is a strange-looking part of 
 the head, somewhat like a little trumpet attached 
 to the side of the head. 
 
 Carrie. It looks like a shell. 
 
 Teddy. Does the opening go way into the 
 head ? 
 
 Teacher. No ; you would find something very 
 soon which would stop the way ; it would look 
 like a little round white membrane, as it is, like 
 the parchment of a drum stretched over the open- 
 ing ; it is delicate and thin, about so wide ; it 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 169 
 
 quivers or vibrates when sound strikes it, just like 
 any stretched surface ; it vibrates with the sound- 
 waves of air, and that vibration is carried through 
 it to four little bones which are in an open 
 chamber behind it ; they carry it on through a 
 spiral passage very much like the windings of a 
 snail-shell, until it reaches the nerves, which carry 
 it to the brain ; when the brain receives the 
 impression, or knows of the vibration, sound is the 
 result. Why do you think the external ear is 
 shaped so curiously ? 
 
 Ethel. To get all the sound it can. 
 
 Teacher. -- The vibrations of the air, which are 
 waves of sound, are gathered up in the expanse of 
 the outward ear and transmitted gradually through 
 quite a tube without sudden shock to the delicate 
 drum of the ear. This drum is so delicate as to 
 repeat the vibrations very truly to the queer little 
 bones which touch each other behind it, and the 
 vibrations are carefully carried on, winding gently 
 to the connections with the nerve which perceives 
 it for the brain. Very nice care has been taken 
 that we may hear. If you should see the whole 
 machinery of the ear, you would wonder at the 
 wise contrivance. 
 
17 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Fanny. Why cannot Alice hear as well as we ? 
 Her ear is just as good. 
 
 Teacher. Alice had scarlet fever once, which 
 destroyed the drum of the ear, as it often does, 
 breaking it down by some very poisonous matter 
 which was near it and which had no other way of 
 escaping from her blood. It pierced this delicate 
 little drum, and wore it away entirely in one ear, 
 and nearly all in the other ; yet the little bones 
 are left, and the vibrations of the air reach them 
 through the bones of the face and head where it 
 touches them. Alice can hear a little when she 
 opens her mouth. 
 
 Alice. I know I can ; or if the piano is play- 
 ing, I can hear better leaning upon it. Why ? 
 
 Teacher. The vibrations are carried through 
 the mouth and by the teeth or by the arm to the 
 bones of the face, or through tubes leading from 
 the throat into the chamber of the ear where the 
 four little bones are. The outer ear is a protec- 
 tion to all the nicer and interior parts of the organ 
 of hearing. A waxy substance surrounds the tube 
 of the outer ear to keep out anything which might 
 otherwise touch the drum. We should never put 
 anything hard or sharp beyond this, for fear of 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. I/ 1 
 
 piercing the drum. Some sound-waves are so 
 strong that they are perceived also by other parts 
 of the body, as for instance the firing of a cannon 
 or heavy thunder, making the whole air shake ; 
 but the ear is especially arranged, made exactly 
 so as to gather and carry the delicate vibrations of 
 usual sound, which we could not otherwise know. 
 Now let us attend to the sense of smell. What is 
 its organ ? 
 
 Answer. The nose. 
 
 Teacher. There is something which we call 
 perfume ; it would be hard to say what it 
 is ; sometimes it is agreeable to us, and some- 
 times not. We cannot tell why, but it is very 
 decided. 
 
 Hattie. How queer it is ! I am trying to 
 think what perfume can be, but I am not able 
 to explain it. 
 
 Teacher. Now suppose a little flower, tuber- 
 ose or heliotrope, is here. Why, it sends its 
 perfume into every spot of the air in the room 
 instantly. You perceive it at once and every- 
 where, and will as long as the flower lasts in the 
 room. If I took the flower out of the room, 
 should I take the perfume out too ? 
 
I7 2 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT* 
 
 Maggie, No, you would leave what was 
 already in the room still there. 
 
 Teacher. Would it give less perfume in 
 another room, then. 
 
 Daisy. No'm ; just as much until it is 
 withered. 
 
 Teacher. Isn't it very strange ? Something 
 escapes from the flower as long as it lasts ; with- 
 out taking time to travel, without making the 
 space of the room any less, it fills every part of 
 it, telling us of the character of the flower. 
 One little drop of attar of roses will send its odor 
 through a bottle as tightly sealed as we can seal 
 it, and pervade everything it reaches with such 
 a strong scent that it seems almost impossible 
 to destroy it. What a wonderful quality ! It 
 reaches our brain through little nerves spread out 
 upon the inside of the nostril, and we have the 
 sense of smell. The sense of taste is almost as 
 curious, but as it requires contact of the organ of 
 taste, the tongue, with the substance which is 
 tasted, it does not seem quite so impossible 
 to understand. Look at each other's tongues. 
 Look through this magnifying glass. How won- 
 derful ! A little forest! The surface of the 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 173 
 
 tongue is covered with little feelers which almost 
 seem alive, and the flavor of what we taste comes 
 to these so as to be conducted by the nerves 
 which run from its surface to the brain. Thus 
 we taste. The senses of taste and smell may both 
 be injured or deadened by illness, or by abuse. 
 They are intended to guide us in our choice of 
 food and other things used by the body. They 
 will guide us if they are in a healthy state, but we 
 must not excite them too much, or train them to 
 wrong uses. Can other animals use any of these 
 senses better than we ? 
 
 Willie. Dogs can smell better. They can 
 follow a man by his scent. 
 
 Prescott. Setters can scent game, and show 
 the hunters where to look. 
 
 Teacher. Animals may have some senses we 
 do not understand. These of which we speak are 
 the human senses. Feeling is the perception by 
 contact with any part of the body, for the nerves 
 of touch come to the surface everywhere, but 
 chiefly in the fingers, which can be made very 
 keenly sensitive by practice, as in the case of the 
 blind. 
 
SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 VITAL ORGANS. THE HEART. 
 
 Teacher. I have told you somewhat of all 
 parts of the body except those which are kept in 
 the two chambers within its outer frame. Put 
 your hands upon your left sides, gently pressing. 
 What do you feel ? 
 
 Teddy. I feel the little hammer that pounds 
 all the time. 
 
 Teaclier. Do you have to keep that hammer 
 sounding or beating by your own thought or will ? 
 
 Blanche. No ; it goes itself. 
 
 Teacher. Here is the heart of a calf. Let 
 me show you how it is made ; for yours, which is 
 what you feel beating, is inu^h like it. It has 
 these two sides, one which fresh, red blood goes 
 through, and one which the impure, dark blood, 
 returning from its course through the body, fills. 
 The heart is like a pump ; it forces good blood, 
 which has been purified, through numberless 
 tubes, called arteries, to all parts of the body, to 
 build it and feed it ; then it receives that blood 
 which has become impure, back through as many 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 1 75 
 
 tubes, called veins, and sends it into another 
 organ to meet the air, which changes it to pure 
 blood again, after which the heart again receives 
 the blood and forces it once more through the 
 arteries ; and so this goes on as long as we live, 
 the heart forcing the blood through arteries and 
 veins by this action we call " beating," like the 
 motion of a hand squeezing and opening with 
 great force and regularity. There are little 
 doors in the heart which open and close as 
 the blood rushes through, and assist in keeping 
 its direction the same. There are little doors, 
 called valves, in the calf's heart. They are so 
 nicely arranged that the blood cannot go the 
 wrong way. They open and shut, open and shut, 
 with every squeeze of the heart. You would 
 wonder to see the force with which the heart 
 sends this current of blood through the body. 
 The blood flies swiftly around, leaving fresh life 
 and substance for every muscle and nerve, and 
 taking away the waste particles that need to 
 escape into the air. If you should cut an artery, 
 the blood would spout out like a fountain, and if 
 it were not checked very soon you might bleed to 
 death. This heart is necessary to life. It is 
 
HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 placed in great safety within the chest. It has 
 strong muscles to contract and dilate with un- 
 ceasing regularity and great forcing power. If it 
 is injured, death will result. The flowing of the 
 blood through the heart, arteries, and veins is 
 called its circulation. 
 
 THE LUNGS. 
 
 Teacher. The organ into which the blood 
 comes to meet the air and be purified by throwing 
 off its waste particles, is a double organ, called 
 the lungs. It is within the chest, like the heart ; 
 it is the organ of breathing. Do you have to 
 breathe ? 
 
 Daisy. I can wait a moment without breath- 
 ing, but then I have to breathe again. 
 
 Teacher. The action of the lungs, as well as 
 the heart, is involuntary. You do not need to 
 think of it or will it. It goes on regularly as 
 long as we live. It is necessary to life, and the 
 lungs are therefore a vital organ. I must also 
 show you the lungs of the calf, and you will 
 understand, better than I can describe it, how 
 your own lungs look and act. Here are the two, 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 
 
 like red sponges, attached to tubes which are 
 branches to this larger tube called the windpipe, 
 since through it the air comes and goes into the 
 mouth and nostrils. These two lungs will swell 
 when the air fills all these little holes or cells. 
 Now take a good, full breath. Do you feel the 
 lungs swell within the chest as a sponge swells in 
 the water ? 
 
 Dolly. I do ; and they push down and for- 
 ward and make me grow large. 
 
 Courtenaye. I feel the cool air coming into 
 my mouth and nostrils when I do it. 
 
 Teacher. The blood comes into a thousand 
 little veins which line these air-cells of the lungs, 
 and all that is bad in it escapes into the air in the 
 cells, and it receives the life-giving part of the air, 
 which makes it fresh and pure to go back again 
 through the heart to the body. When the blood, 
 thus cleansed, leaves the lungs, the air which has 
 cleansed it returns through the tubes and wind- 
 pipe, through the nostrils and mouth, to the out- 
 side air ; this breathing in and breathing out is 
 repeated with every movement of the heart and 
 lungs as long as we live. Thus the blood is kept 
 pure, and the body renewed and alive. But you 
 
I7 8 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 can see at once that the air about us is hurt by the 
 escape of this waste from the lungs ; we must 
 have fresh, pure air about us all the time, or the 
 blood will not be purified enough by breathing. 
 Some air is more life-giving than other. You feel 
 brighter and stronger in it. Out-of-door air is the 
 best. If you wish to keep well and be strong, you 
 must breath fresh, clear air. It will make the 
 blood red and give you rosy cheeks. You must 
 hold yourself erect and wear nothing tight, so that 
 the lungs and heart can act freely and work well. 
 But do not run when you breathe too fast or when 
 your heart beats too hard. Never overwork the 
 heart and lungs by too violent or too long contin- 
 ued exercise, like jumping rope too long, or run- 
 ning when you are out of breath. 
 
 THE DIGESTIVE ORGANS. 
 
 Teacher. There is another organ which is 
 necessary to life, below this upper cavity, which 
 is also protected by the spine, ribs, and breast- 
 bone, and by the strong elastic muscle we call 
 the diaphragm. It is the stomach. Here is the 
 stomach of a pig ; very much like yours. It 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 1 79 
 
 is a kind of bag. This tube which comes into it 
 from above is the gullet and opens from the back 
 of the mouth. The stomach is the place where 
 the food is made fit to be changed into blood. 
 You can tell me a good deal about the food you 
 eat, as it is made ready to enter the stomach. 
 Grace, if you are hungry, that is when your stom- 
 ach calls for food, what do you do with the food 
 you have put before you ? 
 
 Grace. I put it into my mouth ; then I 
 chew it. 
 
 Teacher. When you chew it, what wets 
 it? 
 
 Grace. Some water comes in my mouth. 
 
 Teacher. -- There are three little sacs opening 
 into the mouth, under the tongue and within each 
 cheek, that squeeze a juice called saliva into the 
 food to make it soft. As you think of it, the juice 
 starts from these sacs called glands, and you say 
 your " mouth waters." 
 
 Prescott. My mouth waters for an orange. 
 
 Teacher. Elsie, what cuts up the food in your 
 mouth ? 
 
 Elsie. My sharp teeth chop it all up 
 fine. 
 
I SO I10W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Teacher. How do you stir it about for your 
 teeth to chew ? 
 
 EditJi. My tongue rolls it around. 
 
 Teacher. After it is all fine and moist you 
 swallow it. A little trap-door opens to let it go 
 into the gullet, and it is pushed along through the 
 gullet by these little ridges partly opening and 
 shutting, until it reaches this door opening into 
 the stomach. When it is safe within, it will stay 
 there if it is good and well prepared, but if it is 
 only partly chewed, or will hurt you, after a little 
 while the stomach throws open its upper door 
 again and sends it up the gullet and out of the 
 mouth in a hurry. This makes us feel sick, and is 
 very unpleasant ; but it is better than to keep it in 
 the body. You must be careful, then, what you 
 eat, and how you eat. You will be told what will 
 hurt you, what you must not eat ; and you must 
 not eat too fast and swallow great bits without 
 thorough chewing with your sharp teeth. Do you 
 like to eat, Teddy ? 
 
 Teddy. Yes, when I am hungry, or have 
 something very nice. 
 
 Teacher. How stupid it would be to eat if we 
 did not enjoy it ! We should forget or neglect it, 
 
PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. l8l 
 
 and our bodies would have nothing to make blood 
 of ; but our sense of taste makes it pleasant. 
 
 Now the good food stays in the stomach two or 
 three hours and is stirred about by the movement 
 of the muscles of the stomach, and mixed with a 
 juice that comes from the lining of the stomach, 
 called the gastric juice. After this it is soft and 
 gray, and ready to go through the lower door of 
 the stomach into another part of the food-organs, 
 the bowels, which are also below the diaphragm and 
 in the same cavity of the body, called the abdomen. 
 In this cavity, which is less protected than the 
 chest, are the stomach, bowels, liver, pancreas, and 
 some other organs not belonging to the change of 
 the food into blood. While the food is in the 
 bowels, juices from the liver and from the pancreas 
 mix with it. A greenish yellow juice, called bile, 
 comes from the liver, and the food is changed, 
 while it is passing through the long, coiled tube of 
 the bowels, into something thin and white which 
 is drawn from the bowels through little tubes into 
 a larger tube which empties it into the heart to be 
 mixed with the blood. 
 
 This is the way by which your lunch which you 
 may now eat is changed into blood that can 
 
1 82 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 become a part of your body, and all these organs 
 which work upon it are called the digestive organs. 
 Breathe good air, sleep, rest, exercise, and eat 
 well, and you will be well, and happy, and useful, 
 and, I think, good. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE PRIMARY TEACHER : HER WORK AND HER 
 FITNESS FOR IT. 
 
 I. 
 
 IT is a good omen for the future that the ques- 
 tion Who shall teach the little children ? is at 
 last thrown into prominence. If its importance is 
 beginning to be appreciated by thoughtful educa- 
 tors, we may feel that the axe is laid at the root of 
 the tree, and that the evils of its neglect will be 
 finally eradicated. 
 
 It is well understood by those who have 
 watched the development of human life that the 
 first ten years do more toward shaping individual 
 character and destiny than any subsequent dec- 
 ade ; that, as a rule, the proclivities and desires, 
 the tastes and aims, the habits of thought and 
 feeling, are pretty clearly indicated, and the 
 course of after life determined, by the environment 
 and training up to that period. If a generation of 
 girls and boys could be put during that time under 
 
 183 
 
1 84 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 the highest moral influences, the most intelligent 
 methods of intellectual culture, and the refine- 
 ments of pure social intercourse, one might vouch 
 for the nobility of the next generation of men and 
 women, and the safety of society. 
 
 How much has the question of the quality of 
 the primary-school teacher to do with this proposi- 
 tion ? It is certain that heredity is a strong and 
 uncontrollable element in the problem, home life 
 is its sequel, and not tangibly within our grasp ; 
 but for the greater part of the growing and wak- 
 ing hours of the children's lives they are directly 
 in the hands of the public-school teachers. What 
 a profound responsibility, therefore, connects itself 
 with the work of these teachers, the welfare of 
 the next generation, the destiny of a race ! 
 
 Strangely enough, the importance of the influ- 
 ences surrounding early childhood is scarcely felt, 
 even by mothers. Too many of the children of 
 wealthy and cultured homes are left to the over- 
 sight and companionship of incompetent, per- 
 haps vulgar, persons. Thoughtless women thus 
 despise the privilege of motherhood. The 
 great mother-heart of Frobel has shown in his 
 " Mother-songs " a glimpse of the education the 
 
THE PRIMARY TEACHER. 185 
 
 babes may receive in their mothers' loving arms, 
 and which the mothers may receive in prodigal 
 return from the little ministering angels who cling 
 to them in that faith in the mother which Nature 
 gives. The finest thing the mother can bring 
 from her heart or brain is dignified by being given 
 to her child, and not learned in vain if learned for 
 him. 
 
 See, then, the breadth and depth and height of 
 the work of the Primary Teacher ! It is to form 
 character, brain, and social life, not for one child 
 alone, that, indeed, were a task of infinite value, 
 but for scores of children who rest in her hands 
 like the plastic clay in the hands of the sculptor. 
 What a fine and strong ideal must she be capable 
 of forming ; what clear discrimination must she be 
 able to exercise, that she may conform that ideal 
 to individual possibilities, and the indications of 
 nature in each hidden germ of personality ! What 
 untiring zeal and enthusiasm does she need for 
 rescuing God's purpose from failure in the many 
 lives so put within her developing hand ! Indeed, 
 the opportunity of the primary-school teacher is a 
 great and heavenly one, and dignifies the noblest 
 life of womanhood. 
 
1 86 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT* 
 
 II. 
 
 THE work of the primary-school teacher is, 
 then, of the highest importance to the progress of 
 a generation. It covers the most impressible 
 period of life ; it demands the most earnest enthu- 
 siasm, the clearest wisdom, and the most varied 
 experience in one who undertakes it ; in particular, 
 it requires intense sympathy with children in their 
 tastes, in their outlook and ways of thinking, as 
 well as in the singleness of their moral nature ; it 
 requires, moreover, a capacity of childlikeness 
 which is the attribute only of harmonious maturity 
 or of genius. It is the unspeakable gift to become 
 as little children. 
 
 The primary school is the open channel for 
 every form of mental activity on the part of the 
 teacher, and the most varied knowledge and cul- 
 ture. It will be strange if the most accomplished 
 woman does not strike her plummet to ground 
 more than once a day in teaching a school of little 
 children. "I don't know" has to be said very 
 often to the wide-eyed questioners. How perfect 
 must be the understanding of that subject which 
 we can perfectly simplify and into which we can 
 
THE PRIMARY TEACHER. I 7 
 
 lead the child so that he will know the way again ! 
 He is the complete master of an art who can 
 make it appear easy and natural. 
 
 The primary teacher must possess a crystalliz- 
 ing power which results in organization and dis- 
 cipline till the assemblage of children is trans- 
 formed into the school, and the parts become 
 members of a whole. She is set among them as a 
 magnet is laid on a paper of steel-filings ; they 
 must obey insensibly the current of her polariza- 
 tion. Through what subtle sympathy, tact, and 
 insight must this controlling power be exercised i 
 It is the organic force which gives life ; the 
 teacher must be the spirit of the school, producing 
 order and unity and growth. The essential germ 
 of school-life is the controlling sympathy of the 
 spirit with the body, of the teacher with the 
 pupils ; her presence must be an inspiration, her 
 influence a deep and strong centric force acting 
 through the warmth of love, and dying in the chill 
 of disaffection and weariness. 
 
 Let the primary teacher, then, seek constant 
 inspiration for herself ; in the zest of fresh learn- 
 ing, in the draught of thought from all its foun- 
 tains, in the cheery influences of nature and social 
 
1 88 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 life ; above all, in the comfort, rest, and illumina- 
 tion of the ever-present source of inspiration 
 which is the atmosphere of all spirits strong to 
 love and to guide. 
 
 III. 
 
 HAVING considered the dignity and general 
 scope of the work of the primary teacher, let us 
 inquire what are some of its details, and the 
 demands it makes upon her mental gifts and 
 moral calibre. 
 
 I suppose a young lady of that elevation of 
 character and enthusiasm of moral purpose which 
 seems essential to the conduct of such a noble 
 work as we have indicated, to be placed before a 
 promiscuous gathering of fifty or sixty children 
 out of the public schools. The first demand is for 
 immediate organization. Whatever else is post- 
 poned, the task of reducing this babbling crowd to 
 order cannot be delayed. Nothing can be done 
 until all are seated ; then a quiet, orderly atten- 
 tion must be compelled, and perfect acquiescence 
 in the authority of the teacher. It may be 
 thought that this is an easy matter, but to many 
 
THE PRIMARY TEACHER. 189 
 
 it is an impossibility. At this exigency there is 
 required an executive ability, a power of leader- 
 ship, a personal magnetism, an inherent faith in 
 herself, which is the pre-eminent qualification of a 
 true-born teacher. It is not a common gift ; it is 
 not the necessary concomitant of a fine intellect 
 or of a beautiful character ; but an expression of 
 the balancing of the faculties, a native poise which 
 acts like an instinct to a great extent. Its posses- 
 sor may be blindly conscious of it ; yet, on de- 
 liberation, doubtful of its possession until she 
 comes into a position which calls for its exercise ; 
 then there is no further uncertainty ; she can 
 trust implicitly to it, assured of success. The 
 gifts of mastery and organization are inborn, and 
 are the momentum of a well rounded nature im- 
 pelled by a steady motive power. One may learn 
 their methods of application when she has their 
 essence within her ; but no culture can engraft 
 the gifts themselves. When one who knows she 
 holds these forces in her hand stands before an 
 uncontrolled horde with the purpose of bringing 
 order out of chaos, there is a tacit appreciation of 
 the power by all within its influence, a conscious 
 recognition of it by older minds, an unconscious 
 
19 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT* 
 
 acceptation of it by younger but more impressible 
 beings ; they feel that they are to obey, and she 
 to direct, in the very nature of things. The snarl 
 and disorder of all the tangled threads of individ- 
 ual assertion unwind and divide, to unite in 
 harmonious system. Like the type-distributer 
 into which the printer's pi is cast, it regulates and 
 sends each element to its own place, noiselessly, 
 and with exact fitness. Let another attempt the 
 same office, and all is failure and confusion ; the 
 hum of disorder does not cease ; the indifference 
 and inevitable defiance of even children, placed 
 under inadequate authority, deepens and becomes 
 appalling, while she finds herself powerless to 
 quell the tumult ; the force of her presence has 
 made no impression upon them. Every successful 
 teacher can look back to moments in her experi- 
 ence when a pause, a doubt, a suggestion of 
 insubordination, seemed imminent ; but acting 
 only as a stimulus to her will, evoked a quiet pas- 
 sion of determination which made her mastery 
 complete and permanent. 
 
 See, for example, a fair, delicately bred girl, 
 fresh from normal school honors, ushered into her 
 first school as teacher. It is a high school for 
 
THE PRIMARY TEACHER. IQI 
 
 both sexes, about one hundred and sixty in 
 number. It is the occasion of its inauguration as 
 the first high school in the county ; all the prin- 
 cipal citizens are present, with many others inter- 
 ested in the project. As the young teacher takes 
 her seat upon the platform, a maiden stranger 
 amidst these men of weight and influence, her 
 only companion there the principal of the school, 
 a man of middle life and long experience, 
 and no face in the room that she has ever seen 
 before this eventful day, she for the first time is 
 struck down from the absorbed inspiration of her 
 consecrated purpose, and trembles as she looks 
 around. " Ah, I am so incompetent ! why did I 
 ccTme here ? what shall I do when those great boys 
 refuse to mind me ? " These throbs of self-dis- 
 trust make her shiver like an aspen for a while, 
 and as the interminable speeches go on, the 
 curious eyes of pupils and parents disconcert her ; 
 although she looks with apparent calmness into 
 the faces before her, she trembles indeed, and for 
 the first time loses faith ; but when she is called 
 upon to lead half the school to a separate school- 
 room and take them in sole charge, the emer- 
 gency summons all her reserves of nerve and will ; 
 
IQ 2 nOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 the tremor of doubt is swept away by a great wave 
 of assurance, and when she stands before those 
 over whom, though scarcely separated by years, 
 she has been placed in authority, her strength 
 seems to her invulnerable. With quiet mien, but 
 with unflinching firmness, she meets each gaze of 
 inquiry, and checks each glance of doubtful 
 scrutiny ; her genius for control has asserted 
 itself, and the reins are firmly within her thrilling 
 grasp. All serious issue between her scholars 
 and herself is forever silenced. Her clear, quiet 
 tones break the confirmed hush, as she directs 
 them to the work of the hour ; the few older boys, 
 who have been the terror of the district school, 
 look about hesitatingly, to find that their role is 
 left out, and loyalty is their best subterfuge ; 
 while all gravitate unconsciously to control, as a 
 disordered heap of steel-filings arrange themselves 
 about the magnetic needle laid upon them, in 
 lines of order and symmetry. 
 
 This power of control and organization is still 
 more spontaneous in its exercise and complete in 
 its influence upon an assemblage of younger chil- 
 dren. About two hundred girls had been gath- 
 ered from the alleys and cellars of a city by 
 
THE PRIMARY TEACHER. 1 93 
 
 benevolent and cultured young ladies and brought 
 together to form a sewing-school. Not one of the 
 young ladies present could succeed in reducing 
 them to sufficient quiet to make any directions 
 heard. One after another had tried in vain ; 
 some rang the bell loudly ; others rapped on the 
 table; others attempted to raise their voices above 
 the general uproar ; others went among the horde 
 and tried to persuade. But all was of no avail ; 
 nothing was done toward organizing the unruly 
 crowd until the youngest teacher arrived late ; her 
 companions came to her in dismay. " What can 
 we do ? We have tried our best to bring them to 
 order, but they will not hear, nor even sit down ; 
 do try, if you can do anything." This young lady 
 knew her power ; it had been trained and proved. 
 She stepped to the platform and asked the other 
 teachers to be seated there. She then turned to 
 the assemblage before her. She neither rang the 
 bell nor spoke, but, coming forward as near to the 
 seething surface as she could, she cast the force of 
 that magnetic gift of mastery over the noisy ele- 
 ments. The lull began at once ; like waves 
 calmed by a gentle rain, one scholar after another 
 dropped into a seat at the silent gesture of the 
 
1 94 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 teacher; in. a few moments all were subdued; the 
 room was in order. Then, with an instant percep- 
 tion of the natural divisions and combinations of 
 their various degrees of age and intelligence, she 
 arranged them in classes ; with a nice adaptation 
 of each to each, indicated their respective teach- 
 ers. When some of the children were afterwards 
 asked why they did not come to order before, they 
 said, " We did as soon as the mistress came ; we 
 weren't going to before." So she became the mis- 
 tress of the school by this natural appointment, 
 because the gifts of mastery and organization were 
 in her, and she had learned how to use them. 
 
 The first appearance of a teacher before her 
 pupils is usually a test of her possession of these 
 essential faculties, but by no means the only occa- 
 sion for their active use. They come into the 
 arrangement of every class and the work of every 
 hour, into the plan of each recitation and every 
 phase of the relation between teacher and pupil. 
 When their development is perfect the school will 
 be destitute of any germ of insubordination, and 
 every pupil responsive to the idea and will of the 
 teacher. In a school of little children, the teacher 
 acts like a true mother, and they hold to her as if 
 
THE PRIMARY TEACHER. 1 95 
 
 covered by her brooding heart and mind, breath- 
 ing in a sweet atmosphere, while they bloom and 
 ripen in unbroken content like rose-buds in the 
 gardens of June. 
 
 The details of the work of the primary-school 
 teacher would be hard to enumerate ; but first 
 and most apparent is the physical attention the 
 children need in their appeal to the motherliness 
 of the teacher. They must be clean before they 
 can be orderly and good. I remember, in my 
 nursery days, if we were restless and cross, 
 mother would sometimes wash our faces and 
 hands, brush our hair, and put on a clean apron, 
 and the naughtiness disappeared ; we could not 
 have our clothes belie us, and we were renewed in 
 spirit by the physical refreshment. I would not 
 engage to be in any way agreeable or dutiful with 
 grimy hands, a sticky face, and soiled clothes. 
 The teacher will, in some way, attend to this pre- 
 requisite of good order. How can it be done with 
 fifty children from homes where all this is neg- 
 lected ? I do not know, but I have known a teacher 
 who did it for twenty years in a Boston primary 
 school. This good woman had as thoroughly the 
 feelings of a mother as though all the children had 
 
IQ HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 been given her by God. She begged material 
 when she could not buy it, cut out clothes for 
 them, and her heart tugged at every cord that 
 could lift them up. I have seen her sewing for 
 them all the vacation, in the self-forgetfulness and 
 unconscious devotion of a mother, until she died. 
 
 You may say this was the life of a missionary 
 rather than of a public-school teacher ; but, in 
 many respects, the path of both is the same path, 
 the spirit should be the same spirit. Let the 
 sense of justice (of those who deal with that ques- 
 tion) measure the compensation which such a 
 teacher should receive. I waive that matter now ; 
 but the teacher cannot think of her wages as her 
 ,chief motive, or she is no true teacher. I foresee 
 a possible charge of affectation in the considera- 
 tion of this matter ; but I could not really act 
 toward children, or in the line of mental and moral 
 influence upon others, with the idea of remunera- 
 tion in any sense a motive. The motherly spirit 
 and the missionary spirit will cover a great 
 accumulation of the detail of the work of the 
 primary-school teacher, and transfigure most of 
 what seems the wear and tear and drudgery of 
 that arduous position. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AN ADDRESS TO PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS. 
 
 PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS ! my associates in 
 this transcendent work, I have longed to have a 
 word with you. I have always felt an enthusiasm 
 for our profession, though, in the blindness of my 
 early zeal, I confess to having had a comparative 
 contempt for primary teaching ; but after three 
 years of teaching in the high school and academy, 
 Providence sent me to school again to unlearn 
 that false measurement of honors, at the cradle 
 and in the nursery ; so that, perchance, the time 
 might come when I could distinguish between the 
 high and the low, the great and the small, and 
 perceive that the material of childhood is the 
 finest material that a teacher can possibly have to 
 work with, the primary school her greatest oppor- 
 tunity, and the honor of good work there the 
 highest honor that she can hope to achieve. 
 
 As I pass through the city streets, I watch the 
 197 
 
HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 youngsters dodging the teams, sitting on the curb- 
 stone, trudging by the road, playing in the. 
 gutters ; and I think, " These are the primary- 
 school children who will go all dirty and boister- 
 ous to their teachers, and they will be at their 
 wits' end to keep them attentive and tractable, 
 and to obtain that result which shall be demanded 
 at their hands." Fifty or sixty of these little 
 Bohemians trooping in to you daily ! I do not 
 wonder at your discouragement. Reforms are 
 needed ; not more than twenty scholars to a 
 teacher, the abolition of much of the statistics and 
 numerical ranking, better salaries, and more 
 personal independence ; these are what you ought 
 to have and will have at (God grant !) no distant 
 day. In the meantime, you must bear up as best 
 you may. The work you are called to do is above 
 pay, and although you ought at the proper time to 
 claim a just equivalent for the work if you prove 
 yourself equal to it, yet keep this matter far from 
 you as a motive ; it will take all the life and value 
 out of your influence and your endeavors. You 
 are doing the work because you love it, and would 
 do it without pay rather than it should be left 
 undone ; it is too noble a work, and too near your 
 
TO PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS. 199 
 
 heart, to be measured by money. If you merely 
 want high wages, and teach only because you can 
 get your living by it, you are not a teacher in any 
 high sense of the word. We must not be mere 
 operatives or workers at a trade, but members of a 
 profession, masters of an art ; we must go into 
 school with this consecration to our vocation, and 
 we shall carry with us the fresh vitality which will 
 give tone to the very poorest class of pupils, and 
 the magnetism of our presence will crystallize 
 even the rudest elements into order and symme- 
 try, as the magnet, placed upon steel filings, con- 
 verges them into lines of beauty. These restless 
 elements before us are evidently ready to attend 
 for an instant to almost anything that comes in 
 their way. How natural, then, for the teacher to 
 follow this hint of pleasurable excitement, of a 
 succession of images, and appeal to their constant 
 curiosity ! Let her present things to the child as 
 in a kaleidoscope ; he will give his absorbed atten- 
 tion to this presentation of interesting phases in a 
 prepared, but unannounced sequence, which will 
 reveal more to him in a few minutes than an 
 hour's task-work. 
 
 I believe in the " Natural methods," or, as they 
 
2OO HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 are now called, "the New methods." Perhaps 
 their more general diffusion is new, and all honor 
 to the energy and positive apprehension of the 
 man who has atlast aroused the attention of the 
 public in their behalf ! The native restlessness of 
 the child indicates the right course with him ; a 
 frequent change of theme, the senses leading, the 
 mind following, growing and strengthening and 
 rejoicing in acquiring knowledge concerning all 
 which his senses or his imagination seize upon. 
 Allow yourself to be in sympathy with the chil- 
 dren ; become yourself as a little child, abandon 
 yourself to the happiness of receptivity, and be as 
 one who inquires and studies with them. Yet 
 one must be master of a subject to give it to a 
 child, to stimulate his interest, to invest it with 
 that pleasurable excitement which shall absorb his 
 attention, to lead him by what he has seen to 
 what he has not seen, to add fact to fact as a 
 result of his power of inference, not as one 
 would pile stone upon stone, but as nature multi- 
 plies cells, and as mind evolves thought ; so that 
 the mind is working while storing up, not with 
 a mechanical memory merely, but with every fibre 
 of the brain in harmonious and balanced action ; 
 
TO PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS. 2OI 
 
 this is healthful and delightful. It is dispropor- 
 tionate and forced work, drudgery one way or 
 another, which wearies and kills ; the balanced 
 activity of the brain, like the skilful playing of an 
 instrument, keeps it in tune. The natural, not 
 the morbid activity of a. child's mind, is perfectly 
 safe, and should not be discouraged but satisfied. 
 
 The question is often asked, " What should we 
 attempt to teach young children ? " To read, to 
 write, to spell ? Yes, they must have their tools, 
 the dishes first, on which the dinner shall be 
 served. How shall these be taught ? The old 
 way or the new way, as the individual mind takes 
 it best ; some sec how words are spelled, some 
 Jiear better how ; some want to analyze and get 
 the letters first, others read at a glance, m9re by 
 vivid impression of sight ; but with a strong desire 
 to read and write, and an aroused interest in 
 things, they will soon learn by any method. I 
 have seen many a child who read before its 
 mother or teachers knew it, through the force of 
 a spontaneous desire, almost as one insensibly 
 acquires a foreign language by frequent rapid read- 
 ing without translation. But while they are learn- 
 ing how to manage their tools they want food ; 
 
2O2 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 they will ask you all sorts of questions ; no wide- 
 awake child will rest satisfied with learning to 
 read, write, and spell, or even to reckon, while he 
 is waiting for the grammar school, He sees a 
 thousand phenomena before him, and he is deter- 
 mined to know something about fhem ; if you 
 deny or hinder him you do all in your power to 
 stultify him ; you make him dull and stupid, if you 
 do not drive him into wrong paths of inquiry. 
 How many children are turned toward vice 
 because prevented from learning what they have a 
 right to be taught ! You may take your class into 
 the fields and woods : can you avoid teaching the 
 essentials of structural botany ? can you escape 
 something of mineralogy and geology among the 
 hills and along the rocky shores ? can you shut 
 their eyes and yours to the birds, the insects, the 
 myriad forms in which Nature is constantly chal- 
 lenging them to learn and you to teach ? It is 
 astonishing how much of the essence of all the 
 sciences, leaving out the technology, you can give 
 a child in just those exigencies when he really 
 wants to know, and when, because the knowledge 
 comes at his command, he will be able then and 
 thereafter to command it. True, we must have 
 
TO PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS. 2O3 
 
 all our knowledge at command, for these children 
 to whom Nature is whispering her searching ques- 
 tions will soon drive us to our reserves. Do you 
 think you know enough to teach a class in physics 
 in the high school ? That may easily be, and yet 
 you may not know half enough to teach it in a 
 primary school. You may know enough of other 
 sciences to fill a professor's chair, and often be 
 forced to say, " I don't know " to a keen-eyed 
 group of just these Bohemians the town turns into 
 your school-room to be educated. I insist that 
 the most accomplished scholar is not too learned 
 to teach the primary school. Did not the elder 
 Mill devote his great powers and acquisitions to 
 the daily training of his three-year-old son, the 
 little John Stuart, without a hint that the work 
 was beneath him, a school of one baby, pupil for 
 the most accomplished of scholars ! To usher one 
 mind upon the infinite vista of human learning is 
 a great task for a great mind. Yes, you are in no 
 danger of knowing too much for your primary 
 classes. I have heard of the failure of attempts 
 to teach by oral lessons. I have thought it like 
 the failure to provide a sufficient meal from 
 an empty larder, or the failure of an effort at 
 
2O4 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 fine workmanship without trained and gifted 
 workers. 
 
 But you may say your work is already set for 
 you, to appoint tasks, to fill up programmes, 
 and put the wheels on the track for the grammar 
 schools to attend to the machinery. If that is so, 
 it is no less true that these are but parts of the 
 husk, the shell only of your sphere of labor. 
 There is a deep, vital work which is your God- 
 commissioned work, and will remain to affect the 
 whole life of your pupils. The ardor for learning, 
 the taste for beauty, the aspiration for character, 
 are all lying dormant in them, to be touched by 
 your evoking hand. It is these springs and 
 motives of growth that it should be our ambition 
 to arouse, these that are to determine the prog- 
 ress of the children and to mould the age into 
 which they shall breathe their force and spirit 
 hereafter. To kindle undying fires that shall 
 purge, refine, and exalt the life of the next genera- 
 tion, that is your province. 
 
 Even the mechanical part of your work will be 
 better done for this inspiration. An elasticity of 
 mind, and a subjection of the littlenesses that 
 irritate both school and teacher, will unconsciously 
 
TO PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS. 2O5 
 
 emanate from your well poised nature, so that the 
 results of discipline are often attained impercepti- 
 bly. Manners are taken by infection. The quiet 
 lady who presides with polite consideration and 
 unfailing courtesy will gradually develop that 
 courtesy and kindness reciprocally. By your own 
 gracious presence lead your pupils to admire what 
 is refined, to recognize a lady whenever they may 
 meet her, and to be gradually transformed into 
 the same image. Lead them by your own personal 
 example to see the unfitness of tawdry show, of 
 pretence, of falsity in anything; your dress, your 
 bearing, your habit of look and speech will be 
 reflected in your school ; your qualities will enter 
 into its structure as the leaven into the flour. 
 Let the glow of a cheerful face, a cordial sym- 
 pathy, a pleasant humor, and even a hearty laugh, 
 irradiate your school-room. It will freshen the air 
 and invigorate both teachers and taught ; and if a 
 frequent play of wit is added to the prevailing 
 sunshine, it will be as fascinating and awakening 
 as the dazzle of a prism in the sunny room. Go 
 into your school under an inspiration ; educate 
 your mind to be a clear channel for the truths of 
 science and of nature ; teach your heart to send 
 
206 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 through the arteries of your school-life the love 
 and the amenities of a beautiful character, and 
 allow your soul to transmit the love and goodness 
 of God, your indwelling presence. All that is 
 good outwardly comes from what is true and 
 beautiful inwardly. She can transform the rudest 
 material to fineness who is truly refined, the most 
 hardened to softness who deals with it tenderly. 
 Be all that you would make your own children, 
 and look at each child as if it were indeed 
 your own. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 
 I. 
 
 ANY discerning and thoughtful person who has 
 watched with the absorbed intentness of parental 
 interest the opening life of the human being can- 
 not but have observed its most obvious endowments 
 of body, mind, and soul, and the order in which 
 they manifest themselves. If to the parental be 
 added the scientific interest, this order will be 
 carefully noted, and the method, condition, and 
 sphere of activity of every faculty during the sim- 
 plest stage of individual being will be discovered 
 as a basis for psychological laws. 
 
 As the attention of the educational public is 
 more and more called to such investigations, 
 parents and teachers will learn to study more care- 
 fully the phenomena of the opening mind. In 
 such study their sympathy and intelligent appre- 
 ciation will develop a sure ground for true edu- 
 207 
 
208 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 cational principles. The mother will no longer 
 struggle blindly through the most important years 
 of her relations with her children, marring the 
 symmetry of nature's design, learning only by a 
 series of irretrievable mistakes how to train the 
 immortal being ; the teacher will have a chart for 
 his guidance on the infinite sea of human influence 
 and endeavor, as it is thrown around the forming 
 destiny of human life ; and although earnest pur- 
 pose and unremitting care can never be relin- 
 quished, yet they will be directed by unfailing law, 
 and act amid the illuminations of established sci- 
 ence. This will bring the repose of certainty to 
 the anxious heart of the mother, and save her 
 many a pang of self-accusation in the future, as 
 she sees with pain the results of her ignorance in 
 the blemished career of which she had cherished 
 a spotless ideal in her young maternity. It will 
 be no less valuable to the teacher to work in the 
 realm of mind and soul with the assurance of the 
 chemist in the laboratory, or the electrician 
 acquainted with the laws of his material, which 
 almost approaches in subtlety the essence which 
 the teacher attempts to deal with in the school- 
 room. Let the teacher and parent commence at 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 
 
 once, then, this all-important study of the laws of 
 development of the human being. 
 
 The babe lies passive and almost unconscious in 
 its mother's arms, as ignorant of his faculties and 
 their uses as if the law of heredity had not come 
 to his assistance. His connections with the out- 
 ward world, and the advantages he may gain from 
 them, are wholly unknown to him. The bee bursts 
 from its cell prepared to carry out the aggregated 
 wisdom of his species, to build its complicated 
 cell, and put to immediate and effective use all 
 its essential powers ; the young brute animal, mas- 
 ter of its position in the first few hours of its air- 
 breathing life, starts out with a mature inheritance, 
 and is able to direct its muscular activity and exer- 
 cise its intelligence as readily as its parent ; but 
 the human child, with its eternally progressive life, 
 proceeds very gradually to its inheritance, unfolds 
 its powers, and accommodates itself to its position 
 by slow stages. His mind and soul, as well as his 
 body, are in the dawn of activity. The body offers 
 the intelligence the only way to its environments. 
 The child can acquire knowledge only by the ave- 
 nues of his senses, and has first to discover by 
 experiment how to use the senses. He opens the 
 
210 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 organ of sight, and light attacks his consciousness, 
 not at once, perceptibly, but by degrees, through 
 repeated opportunity. Through almost impercep- 
 tible developments of sensation he feels, and the 
 existence of external matter is revealed to him ; 
 he tastes and smells, an:l other facts respond ; he 
 hears, and sound answers to his natural suscepti- 
 bility. His training has begun ; Nature is faithful 
 to him, and takes charge of his education from 
 the first ; any other teaching must be in the direct 
 line of her infallible methods. Brief and intermit- 
 tent are the lessons ; the babe sleeps in utter rest, 
 and then awakes to receive new accessions to his 
 natural mental growth through the senses, and 
 physical growth through the instincts. Percep- 
 tion, the first psychical act, is begun in the brain 
 through its connection by the body with outward 
 phenomena. Nature teaches by repeated presen- 
 tation of the subject of observation, when the mind 
 is rested and attentive to the sense-opportunity. 
 If we would teach further, it must be under simi- 
 lar conditions and by the same plan. We may 
 multiply the objects of observation, arouse desires, 
 stimulate the sense, and respond to the instinctive 
 desire of the child's soul for sympathetic enjoy- 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 211 
 
 ment. To light we can add color and motion, 
 which will awaken attention and excite pleasurable 
 activity of the sense of sight. The complication 
 of ideas thus furnished to the mind makes a 
 stronger impression and gives more complete 
 knowledge, as well as trains and develops the 
 sense which is the medium of ideas. Sympathy, 
 attention, and fidelity to nature in the training of 
 the infant mind and soul through the senses, is 
 the first step in the scientific education of the 
 child. The training of the senses is the beginning 
 of the education of the body ; the evolution of 
 perception and consciousness, through the activity 
 of the senses, is the beginning of mental educa- 
 tion ; and the awakening of love, desire, and will, 
 through the sympathy of the parent or teacher, is 
 the dawn of soul-education ; all of which, so indis- 
 solubly connected, must progress harmoniously as 
 nature has indicated by every sign of its methods 
 with the childhood of the immortal human 
 
 II. 
 
 To proceed with the training of the ; 
 which forms so large a part of the earliest 
 tion : the sense of si<rht soon furnishes the brain 
 
212 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 with ideas of light, form, color, and motion ; the 
 sense of sound conveys ideas of tone, perhaps of 
 rhythm and harmony, according to the natural 
 perfection of the organ and the susceptibility of 
 the brain, or according to the judicious presenta- 
 tion by the teacher of the sound-vibrations; the 
 sense of touch has given ideas of hardness, weight, 
 resistance, surface, and figure ; and the senses of 
 taste and smell have contributed their appropriate 
 but simple ideas. The work of the mother, who 
 is the child's divinely appointed teacher at this 
 period of its life, is to guard the organs of sense 
 from injury, and to keep them in a healthy balance 
 of rest and activity, according to the dictates of 
 Nature. She will discover very early the principle 
 that a rightly adjusted amount of exercise strength- 
 ens any organ or faculty of body, mind, or sou], 
 and that over-exercise exhausts and impairs it. 
 This is a fundamental principle, from which her 
 methods may never vary. If she would strengthen 
 any faculty, she must give it active exercise. She 
 will apply this principle so as never to do for the 
 child what it can do for itself to its better advan- 
 tage, remembering, as an unvarying law, that 
 knowledge, mental ability, and character are to 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 213 
 
 be acquired through activity of the intellectual 
 and moral powers, and not through their receptiv- 
 ity. She will learn that enjoyment in the exercise 
 of the faculties creates desire for more exercise, 
 and gives vividness- and tenacity to the impres- 
 sions produced by that exercise. She finds at 
 first that no attempt can be made to produce an 
 idea in the child's mind except through the senses, 
 and that most knowledge of the outward world is 
 best conveyed to the mind, and most truly assimi- 
 lated at all stages of its progress, by the direct 
 application of the senses, by actual personal exper- 
 iment, which is the type of Nature's lessons, and 
 should be followed by the obedient student as the 
 pattern of right education. 
 
 . Let the child handle, smell, see, and even taste 
 where it is safe ; let him try all his instinctive 
 devices for discovery ; destruction of material may 
 be the construction of mental attainment and 
 power ; incessant investigation is the order of 
 nature for the child in his contact with the out- 
 ward world, which is to furnish him with knowl- 
 edge, with tools, with forces, and with power to 
 use them. The province of the teacher as an aid 
 to nature is to lead the mind to its material for 
 
214 HOW SHALL MY CHILD />'/: TAUGHT? 
 
 observation, to conduct as far as necessary the 
 order of observation most conducive to clear im- 
 pressions, and to direct to the same end the 
 grouping or association of impressions. 
 
 As the education of the senses goes on, the 
 brain receives a greater number and variety of 
 ideas, obtained by perception through sensation ; 
 sight, sound, touch, smell, taste, produce more and 
 more complicated images in the mind, until their 
 strong segregation results in the conception of 
 units or things of many qualities ; also in the con- 
 sciousness of those ideas and of outward material 
 existences as the combination of those ideas ; at 
 last, identity, which is a consciousness of the know- 
 ing self, appears as a fact to the mind, and the 
 child's relations with himself have begun. This 
 is a great era in the education of the mind and of 
 the soul, for all this time ideas of moral forces 
 have taken root as the spring of character. Ideas 
 of love and justice should both have been dis- 
 tinctly outlined in the child's understanding, and, 
 by the help of the mother, fixed in the heart. 
 Some notion of cause and effect, of the neces- 
 sity of cause, of the surety of effect ; some idea 
 of the authority of the parent and of the required 
 
SCIENCE OF-PRIMARY TEACHING. 215 
 
 obedience of the child, should have been educed 
 by the mother's training, through sympathy and 
 responsive love, or through rewards and punish- 
 ments, acting in the line of right or wrong doing, 
 according to the natural connection of cause and 
 effect. 
 
 There should be no arbitrary or variable dealing 
 with the child's moral apprehension. Nature al- 
 ways preserves the similarity of kind even in pun- 
 ishing or rewarding, and is inflexible in assigning 
 the instructive discipline of result. So should the 
 teacher be, if she would evolve ideas of moral 
 truth. She should present to the child's moral 
 perception a living example of perfect truthful- 
 ness, justice, kindness, sympathy, and self-control, 
 so that the moral perception of the child may 
 receive ideas of goodness, truth, justice, love, and 
 power, which shall be pure and eternal, for of 
 these images given by the mot-her from her own 
 soul, and through her training of her child's moral 
 nature, he will in time form a union of ideas which 
 shall give him his conception of the creative and 
 sustaining Spirit of the universe, the root of all 
 his eternal outgrowth of character. 
 
 In this connection the training of the will has 
 
2l6 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 its constant place. It must never be broken or 
 forced into obedience through fear. That were to 
 destroy the delicate lever of all the intricate ma- 
 chinery of development. It should be kept active, 
 but subordinated to love as its earliest authority, 
 afterward to its sense of justice and right, and its 
 self-governing sense, which grows in the rightly 
 educated soul as^ soon as it begins to discover its 
 relations with itself. Obedience to authority 
 through love, first to the parent, afterward to 
 the idea of a Supreme Creator, whose relations 
 with the conscious spirit have become established 
 by intelligent apprehension, should be wrought 
 into the habit of the child's actions by every influ- 
 ence of the parent or teacher ; so the will may be 
 made active in controlling desire and forming 
 character even from the earliest childhood. So 
 interwoven are the three constituent elements of 
 human nature, so important the quality of the 
 influences which are to develop them all harmoni- 
 ously, that the teacher must never ignore one of 
 them in the true science of education. 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 
 
 III. 
 
 ALL the sensations, perceptions, and impres- 
 sions which establish the child's relations with 
 himself and other entities, may be rendered more 
 heterogeneous and definite by the teacher. The 
 senses should be constantly educated to take in 
 many qualities, their coherence and relations ; 
 impressions should be multiplied to give more and 
 more complete images of objects, to enlarge the 
 scope and perfect the quality of the knowledge 
 obtained by observation through the senses. The 
 education of the organs of sense should be con- 
 stantly encouraged until they acquire facility and 
 reach a high degree of sensitiveness. It were 
 easy to prove that the susceptibility of the senses 
 can be increased almost indefinitely, and the 
 power of observation cultivated so as greatly to 
 intensify and complicate perception. To approxi- 
 mate the full evolution of the physical powers is a 
 fundamental part of human education. Nature is 
 always inviting the child to the acquisition of ease 
 and grace in every bodily movement ; to the un- 
 conscious activity of the powers ; to the fu'.l 
 development of the senses ; the thoroughness and 
 
HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 nicety of their application to their material ; to 
 the attainment of fineness and strength ; to the 
 habit of exactitude and infallibility in the use of 
 the physical apparatus. The teacher can help in 
 this direction from the first. Frobel shows us 
 how, in the plays of the nursery and kindergar- 
 ten, as he learned from the efforts and needs of 
 the mother in training her child. The sight of 
 the sailor, the naturalist, and the artist ; the hear- 
 ing of the savage, the woodsman, and the musi- 
 cian ; the touch of the blind, all illustrate the 
 advance to which attentive and well directed 
 exercise may bring the senses as th% media of 
 accurate and complete perception. This part of 
 the work of teaching may be so extended as to 
 include the mastery of all the organs and func- 
 tions of the body as instruments of mind, the 
 control of the muscles, the healthy development 
 of all the physical powers. This kind of educa- 
 tion applies to the gymnasium, all kinds of indus- 
 trial occupation, artistic training of the eye and 
 hand, practice of every muscle and sinew, and 
 conditions of the most perfect health of body. 
 The functions of the body, the movements of 
 every organ, should become as nearly automatic as 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 
 
 possible. The hand of the pianist, the foot of the 
 dancer, the organs of articulation, the sight of the 
 rapid reader, all acquire an unconscious accuracy 
 and spontaneity of motion which is the result of 
 habit, and much like the automatic movements of 
 the vital organs of the body. 
 
 The instinct of the child demands constant 
 exercise unceasingly toward this result of auto- 
 matic action. And yet a wise regulation of all this 
 exercise is an essential part of the teacher's work. 
 No excess of material or of stimulus develops 
 permanent power. A judicious letting alone or 
 trusting to the sufficiency of Nature is often the 
 right course for the teacher, whose judgment must 
 always be guided by all the factors of the case ; 
 the temperament, the reserved bodily strength, 
 the inherited tendencies, and other indications of 
 the child's organization or development must 
 determine the amount of the teacher's assistance. 
 Her direction of Nature's forces cannot be too 
 carefully adapted to the child's individual necessi- 
 ties. The play of the nursery, the out-of-door 
 freedom of action, the occupations of the kinder- 
 garten, the object-lessons of the primary school, 
 and the mechanical work of any kind to which the 
 
22O HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 child may be safely introduced, should be supplied 
 in response to the demand of Nature and accord- 
 ing to the measure of her desire. All the work 
 which is given with a moral purpose should be in 
 the natural channel of child-interests or given zest 
 by some motive which acts as a cheering incentive. 
 
 In order to second Nature in the intellectual 
 training of the child, the teacher may assist the 
 mind in gaining strong and clear images by 
 repetition and practice of knowledge, so that these 
 images shall be more easily received until they 
 come into play unconsciously in effective succes- 
 sion. The greater the facility of automatic mental j 
 action, the greater the power of the mind. We 
 consider this kind of mental activity the highest 
 within our knowledge. We must make it our 
 ultimate object in the work of intellectual educa- 
 tion, and aim to give the mind that final mastery 
 over the organs of its activity which shall carry 
 out all its great capabilities. 
 
 And in connection with the cultivation of the 
 body with that of the mind, and of both with the 
 education of the soul, we should take advantage of 
 the best conditions for the presentation of the 
 mental pabulum. When the faculties of the pupil 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 221 
 
 are stimulated by desire ; when the brain is fresh 
 and unfatigued ; when its strength is renewed by 
 a healthy flow of blood ; when the appetite for 
 knowledge is awakened by the natural proximity 
 of the subject for study; when there comes that 
 pleasurable excitement and effort of the faculties 
 which is called out by responsive enjoyment, then 
 such exercise will leave a more permanent and 
 revivable image on the brain, and a true and last- 
 ing impression will be formed. 
 
 The soul craves sympathy, which the teacher 
 should not fail to give, as it adds moral exercise to 
 the mental, and furnishes the soul with the tonic 
 of enthusiasm. We must listen to what the child 
 has to tell, rejoice in his intellectual and moral 
 victories, share his delight in the discovery of his 
 powers. Thus we help him to win further victo- 
 ries in his mental and moral career, and experience 
 fewer defeats of purpose. 
 
 IV. 
 
 IN all the work of teaching, the mind should be 
 guarded against injury by too great, or long-con- 
 tinued, or unreasonable exertion. The bodily 
 organs and functions should be kept in a health- 
 
222 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 ful condition ; no faculty should be taxed to an 
 unsym metrical degree ; harmony of the bodily and 
 mental development should be aimed at, so that 
 one part of the being shall not defraud another, 
 but each receive its fair share of vitality. There 
 must be no cramming, no stimulating to the 
 point of impairing the nervous strength ; nor 
 should all minds be urged to the same plane 
 of accomplishment. The individuality of the 
 pupil must always be a strong factor in right 
 education, and every tendency to mechanical 
 grading is a baffling and defeat of the principles 
 of psychology. 
 
 The healthful stimulus of sympathy should 
 accompany study, not the unhealthful one 
 of rivalry, which is the one too often appealed 
 to by grading and examinations of school- 
 work. 
 
 The work of teaching is well begun by nature 
 in the spontaneous methods of the nursery : the 
 responsiveness and love of the mother, giving 
 joyous emphasis to every new motion and attain- 
 ment of the child, is a life-giving atmosphere, not 
 only for the mind but for the soul. Let there be 
 no thwarting of nature in her efforts to prepare 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 223 
 
 the child for complete being, the harmonious 
 life of the body and soul. In even the earliest 
 stage of development of the human body we see 
 the germ of spiritual life ; this is constantly 
 evolved. Responsive joy and sympathy are the 
 first steps in that work. The young soul makes 
 its unconscious appeal to the mother, to the 
 teacher, for love, for constancy, for truth ; as she 
 answers that appeal, so the soul receives these 
 ideas, and forms an image which is as much a 
 fundamental fact of soul-knowledge as the percep- 
 tions and the ideas they implant are the elements 
 of whatever moral or religious structure the grow- 
 ing soul may build. The soul naturally believes 
 in these perceptions as the mind does in sense- 
 perceptions, and these faculties of the soul must 
 be regarded as equally trustworthy with those of 
 the mind and body. The instincts of the soul 
 are true and reliable ; no untrustworthy phenom- 
 ena should be -presented to destroy that faith of 
 the soul in its instincts. Let the whole work of 
 teaching continually build up faith in the certainty 
 of knowledge obtained by the perceptions, by in- 
 tuition and consciousness ; this is one of the most 
 invariable of nature's lessons. If we deceive the 
 
224 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 child in any way, if we admit anything less 
 than the full truth to shine upon him, we do all in 
 our power to impair the perfect faithfulness of 
 nature's representation, and to confuse his idea of 
 truth. We should present to the child's observa- 
 tion and faith the highest ideals of emotion and 
 motive in our power, that his conceptions of love, 
 truth, and goodness may be clear and vivid, and 
 associated with sympathetic happiness. 
 
 We should carry out the plan of nature in 
 connecting suffering with wrong-doing, and happi- 
 ness with right doing. We must impart the 
 knowledge of moral law through the natural 
 penalties of breaking it, or the natural rewards of 
 keeping it. We must learn of nature to let 
 retributions fall in the channel of wrong action, 
 to make them of a kind with it, so that they shall 
 become a part of the idea of right and wrong by 
 association. We must make the soul's function 
 of obedience to its instinctively recognized 
 authority as nearly automatic as possible through 
 unwavering habit in the earliest and most pliable 
 period of existence. When the authority becomes 
 consciously a divine one, it will supplement and 
 finally supplant all others. As soon as the young 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 225 
 
 soul reaches the stage of self-consciousness, we 
 should recognize the conscience as a divine 
 authority for it, and appeal to it in all cases for 
 the plan of thought, feeling, word, or action. 
 We should lead the child to utter obedience to 
 the rule of conscience, remembering that a vague 
 treatment of the demands cf conscience produces 
 a vague image of right and wrong, and thus de- 
 grades the soul. Conscience will soon answer 
 these appeals, and anticipate them by acting 
 spontaneously upon all the child's moral relations 
 as they come within his recognition : the relation 
 to parent, teacher, and companion, to itself, and 
 to God. - Thus his connections with his fellows 
 will be rightly adjusted, his connections with his 
 Eternal Father will be more and more compre- 
 hended and made closer, and the just rule of 
 moral responsibility will be attained through the 
 exercise and development of conscience. 
 
 The teacher can also work in the realm of the 
 natural passions and emotions, bringing motive 
 and intelligence to their control. The excess of 
 either can be shown to the child in its brute 
 manifestations, that he may associate their un- 
 control with horror, and understand to what 
 
226 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 degradation it leads, and with what creatures the 
 unrestrained exercise of the passion would ally 
 him ; he can be led to think back from the plain 
 tendency of self-indulgence, of intemperance, of 
 selfishness, of covetousness, of greed and anger, 
 of violence and brutishness, by examples of human 
 beings who have followed bad tendencies until 
 they are slaves of their passions and cannot escape 
 from the power of sin. The certainty of loss of 
 power over our bad impulses by yielding to them 
 should be made very forcible to children, so as to 
 act as a constant safeguard, and the acquired 
 power of self-control which follows the exercise of 
 it should be made a constant incentive to right 
 action. 
 
 As soon as the child begins to inquire, as he 
 surely does when the ideas gained through sense- 
 perception begin to accumulate, of the origin 
 and sustenance of all things, the image of one 
 universal Creator and Sustainer should be pre- 
 sented to his consciousness ; his own individual 
 connection with this Being by instant dependence 
 of life should be associated immediately with this 
 image. This spiritual Personality he will invest 
 with the most attractive ideas and attributes 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 22/ 
 
 within his knowledge, and his love and reverence 
 will be aroused by this association. His spiritual 
 consciousness, as well as his mental perception 
 and intuitive ideas of causation, will make this 
 idea a reality to him ; let no profane teacher 
 introduce a doubt into his consciousness ; it is 
 the atmosphere of his soul, and must be responded 
 to by the teacher ; it will guide him in the choice 
 of truth, in the selection and assimilation of soul- 
 nourishment, until it defines and controls his re- 
 lations with all conscious and unconscious being. 
 
 A candid study of the normal development of 
 the child-nature must confirm the actuality of 
 this ever-present soul-image. The faithful and 
 sufficient teacher will seek to minister to its 
 demands as uniformly, consistently, and con- 
 scientiously as to the needs of mind and body. 
 To work in the full light of psychological princi- 
 ples involves the attempt to develop and train 
 the senses of the soul which connect the human 
 being with its eternal relationships. The soul- 
 faculties come within the legitimate scope of the 
 teacher's work, and form the highest factor in the 
 process of education. No unhappiness, no dread, 
 no fear should enter into the imase of the divine 
 
228 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Personality through the abnormal conceptions of 
 the teacher ; no uncertainty of moral convictions, 
 no doubt of religious perceptions, no unnatural 
 impersonality should be offered by the teacher to 
 blur the image which has been formed in the 
 soul ; no obstacle should be thrust in the way of 
 the child's religious progress. No secondary 
 cause or medium of operation, as law of method 
 or result, should usurp the throne or divide the 
 power or obliterate the outline of the omnipresent 
 Personality in all His works and in all His ways, 
 the expression of His uniform methods acting 
 upon all His material and immaterial creation. 
 Pain and pleasure, all the experiences of con- 
 sciousness, should add and accumulate force to 
 the moral and religious perceptions, and to the 
 distinctness and completeness of the image 
 formed by the soul. We must build into the 
 child's mind a desire and determination for truth, 
 purity, love, and obedience to conscience, and 
 produce as clear and attractive conceptions of 
 these attributes as possible. We must answer by 
 sympathetic suggestion all the questions which 
 arise in his soul in connection with these con- 
 ceptions and his intuitions. We must never fail 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 22Q 
 
 in candor, never make compromises with truth 
 while acknowledging the limitations of human 
 perception, which, though it will not mislead, 
 must often prevent the perfect apprehension of 
 spiritual truth. We must encourage the expec- 
 tant attitude of the soul toward the solutions of a 
 larger experience and more complete obedience, 
 and the revelations of eternity. We must teach 
 faith in the soul's convictions at every stage of its 
 progress, faith in the integrity of God's expressions 
 through the laws and operations of nature and 
 their analogy to spiritual life by reason of the 
 harmony of God's plans ; and we must inculcate 
 an utter trust in the unchangeable relations of 
 the soul with its Maker. We must enlarge and 
 not cramp the activities of the soul, combining 
 them with all other activities so that there shall 
 be no morbid or disproportionate development, 
 but so that harmony of being shall produce happi- 
 ness and health, and tend to the rectification of 
 all errors of thought, feeling, or action. 
 
 In the whole work of teaching, not excepting 
 but, on the contrary, emphasizing, the earlier 
 period, the development and strengthening of 
 the moral powers, the evolution of a dominant 
 
HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 and permeating spirit of truth, purity, reverence, 
 and love, the building up of the character, the 
 nourishment of the soul, should be the highest 
 object, because the supreme and immortal germ 
 of human life. . 
 
 V. 
 
 THE training of the will is secondary in impor- 
 tance only to the training of the soul. It is the 
 agent of the mind and soul, and must be able at 
 their call to control the appetites, the passions, 
 conduct, and desires, as well as to direct the 
 muscles, the senses, and the thought. It there- 
 fore constructs the mental and moral habit, which 
 at last determines the quality and destiny of the 
 immortal being. Force of will is indispensable to 
 strength of character or effectiveness of intellect, 
 and, in a great measure, to the healthful activity 
 of the physical functions. It is yet an unsettled 
 problem how far the condition of the body is 
 dependent on the will, but the tendency of hygi- 
 enic science emphasizes that dependence more 
 and more. An attractive and promising youth 
 often comes to a barren maturity through an un- 
 developed will, and again an undisciplined will 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 23! 
 
 often leads to self-destruction ; in either case the 
 failure to educate and train the will makes a fail- 
 ure of life itself. 
 
 A culture of the will is a necessity of right cul- 
 ture for body, mind, and soul. It must be re- 
 membered that the fundamental law of growth by 
 exercise is as applicable to the will as to any other 
 power of man or nature. The will must be kept 
 active in the child by leading him to determine 
 and work for himself. If he is driven blindly to 
 the accomplishment of the task set for him, he will 
 never develop the power to set tasks for himself 
 and put himself to work, which is his only chance 
 for real achievement of either power or result. 
 Give motive and stimulus sufficient to arouse the 
 will until it commands the faculties successfully. 
 It is immediate, clear, and decisive action which 
 best defines the mental and moral ideas, executes 
 their purposes, and evolves the will-power. In- 
 decision, postponement, and evasion make the will 
 weak and gradually powerless to control the ac- 
 tivities. Children should not be advised when 
 they are competent to advise themselves, but 
 thrown upon their own resources for determina- 
 tion of aim and means as far as possible. 
 
232 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 child who prefers to have questions of conduct or 
 thought decided for him, who always asks to be 
 told what to do, and how and when to do it, 
 should be denied all such help where he has the 
 means of judging and acting without it. A habit 
 of promptness in decision and action is a great 
 step in the education of the will. The psycho- 
 logic Liw that habit tends to automatic action is as 
 applicable to the will as to the mind or body ; this 
 law may be presented and illustrated so as to 
 become a most effectual incentive to the right 
 exercise of the will in directing and controlling all 
 the faculties. This automatic tendency is the key 
 to destiny, for by its law habit becomes fixed in an 
 -unchangeable state of mind and character which 
 even desire has no power to prevent or terminate, 
 and the man becomes the victim of his unregu- 
 lated or feeble will. 
 
 The right development of the will must be the 
 constant aim of the teacher, as it is the greatest 
 hope for attainment of either intellect or char- 
 acter. If there is but a feeble will-power, the 
 effort of the teacher at first must be mainly 
 toward the strengthening of it. If it is accessible 
 by the stimulus of interest and desire, by all 
 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 233 
 
 means attack it in that direction and through the 
 safest channels ; but, if necessary, develop it by 
 the spur of antagonism and resistance, as Nature 
 so often does. When we see the waif cast upon 
 the selfish world, righting his defenceless way to 
 manhood, we may abate soin^ of our pity as we 
 observe how Nature is training it by struggle and 
 adversity to strength and victory over the adverse 
 world and its own rude material, so that he may, 
 by the force of his developed will, win the position 
 to which the most cultured look with envy. 
 
 When we see the cuffs and abuses, the conflicts 
 and mercilessness of the boys who meet in the 
 streets and the schools, we wonder why Nature 
 seems to treat them so roughly ; but we must 
 believe that all the instincts are wisely given and 
 for purposes of training, and that they need only 
 to be subordinated to reason and conscience, 
 not to be crushed or obliterated. Pugnacity, so 
 natural to the boy, and so developed in one who 
 has only himself to rely upon, is a valuable stimu- 
 lant to the will ; and even fighting is beneficial to 
 arouse -decision and tenacity of conviction, and to 
 develop that force of struggle, of resistance, of 
 determination and energy, so essential for the 
 
234 nOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 rectification of wrong habits and the acquisition of 
 right ones ; and, when the contest is defensive 
 and necessary to self-respect, or to the champion- 
 ship of men or principles whose cause is just, it 
 should not be prevented or discouraged. The 
 pugnacious or combative instinct has been the 
 lever with which Nature has lifted many an other- 
 wise untrained human being into strong and com- 
 plete manhood. 
 
 Taste in all its applications and manifestations 
 may be cultivated through every period and phase 
 of education. Facility for true and beautiful 
 expression in language, manners, and art may be 
 the object of education from the first ; all the 
 child's plays and enjoyments offer a field for the 
 exercise of such facility. Forms and qualities of 
 beauty may be constantly pointed out to him, the 
 best models may surround him, and his apprecia- 
 tion of true standards be developed. Efforts of 
 expression, however crude, should be encouraged ; 
 improvements always aimed at, although not to 
 the point of discouragement. The outward should 
 express the inward in the most attractive forms 
 possible to the child's conception. When an 
 utterly itrue and spontaneous blossoming of a 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 23$ 
 
 beautiful thought or feeling occurs, as it some- 
 times does in a child's progressive achievement as 
 the harmonious result of mental or moral habit, 
 the outlook of a mind and soul in free and joyous 
 activity, then an idea of reverence for it as a 
 revelation of God should be associated with it, and 
 the consciousness of inspiration be recognized by 
 the child. 
 
 It is the whole human organism, in all its 
 powers, connections, and aims, which is the 
 material of the work of teaching ; and every ele- 
 ment should hold in the effort of the teacher its 
 rightly adjusted and proportionate place from the 
 earliest period of education. Sympathy, not 
 indifference, antagonism, or hostility, should be 
 the medium of the teacher's influence. Desire 
 for the pupil's advancement will awaken desire in 
 him for that end, courage arouse courage, deter- 
 mination evoke determination ; joy in the teach- 
 er's heart will communicate its stimulus and lead 
 to victory ; enthusiasm will kindle enthusiasm and 
 create a vital atmosphere in which the child's 
 being expands almost unconsciously. Intelligence 
 should precede memory ; imagination should ac- 
 company recollection ; Nature never set a child 
 
236 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 to learn by rote ; those things which must finally 
 be subjected to an act of memory should be 
 approached as a discovery, as the symbol of ideas. 
 Respect for the common-sense of mankind, faith 
 in its formulated experiences, will grow out of an 
 intelligent attention to results of thought and 
 conduct, until rules of science, codes of morals, 
 maxims of conduct, will be accepted as guides for 
 action. 
 
 The written statement of the results of observa- 
 tion, of the spontaneous course of thought, of the 
 deductions of reason, of the play of imagination, 
 should often be called for by the teacher ; this 
 practice will lead up to an appreciation of the 
 value of books as the statements of experts ; it 
 will also encourage individual expression arid a 
 respect for the claims of the individual being, 
 which should be a fundamental principle for the 
 teacher: the school for tJie child, not the child 
 for the school. Lead the child to correct his 
 independence by the claims of social obligation 
 and civil order, but, nevertheless, to rest in his 
 own personality, to become free in the movements 
 of his own mind and soul, while conscience and 
 reason show him how to hinder no other individu- 
 
SCIENCE OF PRIMARY TEACHING. 
 
 ality. Lead him to find and use his own material 
 for physical, mental, and moral growth ; to adopt 
 laws for himself and obey them. Train him to 
 study and act for himself, and for ends he himself 
 has fixed ; and finally, to " get his own living," 
 both mortal and immortal. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 PARABLES. LAWS OF NATURE AND LIFE, OR 
 
 SCIENCE APPLIED TO CHARACTER. 
 
 
 
 "For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly 
 seen, being understood from the things that are made." Romans, i. 20. 
 
 PARABLE I. 
 
 IN the springtime of the year I went out into 
 the fields. The farmers were* sowing seed of 
 corn, of wheat, of oats, and of rye. They selected 
 the seed with care, planting each kind in its own 
 field 
 
 In the autumn I went again to the fields, and, 
 behold ! the waving corn covered the ground where 
 corn was sown, and wheat nodded over the acres 
 where the wheat-seed had been dropped ; the rye 
 and the oats had not disappointed the farmer, 
 but had sprung up from the carefully selected 
 seed just as he had determined ; that which he 
 had planted stood ready for the reaper, and no 
 mistake had been made. 
 
 9 
 
 Then I looked at my young children in the 
 238 
 
PARABLES, 239 
 
 springtime of life, and I said, " We must select 
 the seed of thought and feeling, of study and 
 conduct, with the greatest care. We must sow 
 the seed of unselfish desires, pure feelings, right 
 motives, and high thoughts, so that good actions, 
 pure hearts, and right conduct shall spring up in 
 their lives ; so that sweet manners, beautiful 
 characters, and lovely souls shall bloom and 
 ripen in these life-fields, and a harvest of good 
 and noble men and women may be made fit for 
 immortality. Let us make no mistake in our 
 seed-sowing, for we find this to be one of God's 
 eternal laws : Whatsoever a man soweth that shall 
 he reap*. 
 
 PARABLE II. 
 
 I often walked near the fields while the summer 
 came on and the young corn was growing. I 
 saw the farmer work early and late in his fields 
 to loosen the soil, to cast out the weeds, and to 
 guard against all manner of danger. I saw how 
 diligent he must be in his business, watching and 
 working and waiting, lest the harvest should be a 
 poor one, and he should lose his labor ; so I knew 
 that constant and faithful effort is necessary to 
 
240 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 success. Then I longed to see the children ear- 
 nest and diligent, industrious and careful, both in 
 their study and in their behavior ; for the fields of 
 the mind and the heart planted with the precious 
 seeds of knowledge and virtue need even more 
 care than fields of corn, to keep out the weeds of 
 wrong-doing and forgetfulness and laziness, lest 
 the harvest of manhood and womanhood prove 
 poor and worthless, and the promise of youth be 
 destroyed. 
 
 For I knew it to be one of God's eternal laws, 
 both of nature and life, that watchfulness and dili- 
 gence are necessary to success. 
 
 PARABLE OF SOLOMON. 
 
 I went by the field of the slothful, and by the 
 vineyard of the man void of understanding, and lo ! 
 it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had 
 covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof 
 was broken down. Then I saw and considered it 
 well ; I looked upon it and received instruction. 
 
 Yet a little sleep and a little slumber and a 
 little folding of the hands to sleep, so shall thy 
 poverty come as one that travaileth and thy want 
 as an armed man. 
 
PARABLES. 241 
 
 PARABLE III. 
 
 I held a little brown flax-seed in my fingers. 
 I dropped it on the surface of the water in my 
 glass, upheld by a thin layer of cotton-wool. In a 
 few days white threads descended into the water 
 from that little seed, and a green shoot rose into 
 the air. Delicate leaves unfolded above and the 
 threads below became a silky tassel of roots. 
 The pretty plant grew and throve. Day by day 
 the leaves opened more and more. Buds and 
 lovely blue flowers appeared, and as the sun 
 shone in my window upon the growing plant, 
 seeds were born and ripened and the wonder was 
 multiplied. All had gone on by degrees. Step by 
 step, cell by cell, it had been built up, and bud and 
 flower and fruit had come in due course. So I 
 knew what to expect in my little human plants. 
 Not the ripe seed all at once ; not the perfect 
 conduct nor the whole lesson at the first trial ; but 
 slowly, one by one, thought by thought, effort by 
 effort, the mind and heart will grow. Surely but 
 gradually, day after day and year after year, the 
 child will learn and become wise and good ; for 
 this is God's eternal law, that all tilings grow 
 gradually in good order, from less to more. 
 
242 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 PARABLE OF JESUS. 
 
 So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should 
 cast seed into the ground, and should sleep and 
 rise, night and day, and the seed should spring 
 and grow up, he knoweth not how. For the 
 earth bringeth forth fruit of herself ; first the 
 blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the 
 ear. [ Mark, iv. 26-29.] 
 
 PARABLE IV. 
 
 A pretty silvery fish lived in a great cave. He 
 swam in a silent pool within its dark recesses. 
 One day travellers visited the cave with flaring 
 torches. The beautiful lights glanced from 
 pearly wall and pillar ; stalactite and stalagmite 
 sparkled with prismatic rays ; crystals flashed like 
 precious stones above and around. The little 
 fish swam on, all undisturbed ; he saw nothing of 
 all this radiance, for he had no eyes. The travel- 
 lers examined the pretty fish. "Alas!" they 
 said, "he has lived so long in the darkness that 
 his eyes have gone out. They have disappeared 
 for want of use, and only a scar remains." What 
 is not used is lost. This I find to be an eternal 
 law of Nature, 
 
PARABLES. 243 
 
 So the child who does not use his mind- 
 eyes, who does not observe and think and learn, 
 will grow blind-minded. His bright powers will 
 become dull. He will never be able to see all 
 the beauty and wonder of the universe, because 
 he has lost those eyes of the mind and soul which 
 God gave him with which to perceive goodness 
 and truth. He will become like the eyeless fish, 
 dark and unknowing amid all the glowing beauty 
 about him, with only a dead scar to show his 
 unused faculty. Poor little sightless mind that 
 would not use its eyes of thought ! What is not 
 used dies at last. 
 
 PARABLE V. 
 
 One day as I stood by the sea, a 
 glorious insects filled the air ; they were 
 a tiny steel-blue needle, darting through the 
 shine; their wings were like silver tissue, their 
 eyes like globes of light ; I wondered whence 
 they came. 
 
 Then a naturalist pointed out to me a muddy 
 pool, and on the dull bottom I saw some brown, 
 scrawny beetles, moving slowly by jerks through 
 the thick water. "These," he said, "will all 
 
244 HOW SHALL MY CHILD />7<; TAl\;UT? 
 
 become dragon-flies, the beautiful creatures you 
 see flying on high ; hidden within each scaly 
 form below is a folded germ which shall one day 
 burst the shell and come forth into the air in all 
 its beauty, to float o'er land and sea in light and 
 glory." 
 
 Now, when the children are dull and stupid, or 
 rude and naughty, and seem to choose the dark 
 bottom of ignorance and evil, I comfort myself 
 with the idea of the folded soul within them, like 
 the dragon-flies in the beetles, hoping it will 
 grow within them. I would not have them do or 
 think aught to mar those gauzy wings and far- 
 seeing eyes of the soul that wait to burst forth 
 into light and purity. I fear lest they should put 
 out one single globe of those great hundred-fold 
 soul-eyes. " Oh," I say, " dear children, drive 
 out of your hearts all bad thoughts, all selfish 
 feelings, and do not harm that beautiful folded 
 thing within you that is waiting to escape, for it 
 is your soul, and ' what shall a man give in 
 exchange for his soul ? ' ' 
 
PARABLES. 245 
 
 PARABLE VI. 
 
 I saw, too, in regard to the beetles of the 
 dragon-flies, that they did not need to attend to 
 how the germ within them should grow ; they 
 had only to act as beetles and do what they were 
 fitted to do in the muddy pond. God took care 
 that all should come out right about the dragon- 
 fly, if only the beetle took care of his work as a 
 beetle. 
 
 So I saw that the children had only to do what 
 is right for children, in children's places and by 
 children's ways. God will take care for the un- 
 folding of the wings of the great many-eyed soul, 
 if only the children do as they are bid and behave 
 as well as they can ; for God does His work for us 
 while we are doing ours for Him. 
 
 PARABLE OF PAUL. 
 
 That which thau sowest is not quickened, 
 except it die ; and that which thou sowest, thou 
 sowest not that body which shall be, but bare 
 grain, it may chance of wheat, or of some other 
 grain ; but God giveth it a body as it hath pleased 
 Him, and to every seed its own body. 
 
246 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 So is also the resurrection of the dead. It is 
 sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption ; it 
 is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory ; it is 
 sown in weakness, it is raised in power ; it is 
 sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. 
 [i Corinthians, xv. j6.] 
 
 PARABLE VII. 
 
 I heard a man say that the baby was dead and 
 would never know anything again. I could not 
 believe it, for I saw the corn growing out of the 
 quiet seeds, a new life out of the old ; I saw 
 the dragon-fly which broke forth from the dead 
 grub-case where it had been hidden during the 
 grub's life; I also saw the butterfly spread its 
 wings from the lifeless chrysalis ; and so I was 
 sure that the dead should come to life, perhaps to 
 a different life, a more beautiful life, with new 
 and more perfect bodies of which we cannot 
 conceive now ; but of this I am sure, that the 
 truths of God in nature are but pictures or images 
 of His truth in the unseen universe, and the 
 butterfly is God's word for Resurrection. 
 
 "For the dead shall be raised incorruptible, 
 and we shall be changed.'* "As we have borne 
 
PARABLES. 247 
 
 the image of the earthy, we shall" also bear the 
 image of the heavenly." 
 
 PARABLE VIII. 
 
 I sat by the rock at the sea-shore, and, as I 
 picked up the pretty pebbles and looked on the 
 huge cliffs, I said to myself : They are strong and 
 good, nevertheless they are broken by the waves, 
 nor can they grow and renew themselves like the 
 cedar, or even the little pimpernel that opens its 
 blood-red eye amid the sands. The flower and the 
 tree have a higher nature than the rocks, for they 
 grow and leave seed to grow again, and have an 
 enduring wholeness and pattern of their own 
 which is forever born again, while the cliff breaks 
 into rocks, the rocks are rolled into pebbles, and 
 the pebbles are washed into sand, so that instead 
 of growth is separation, disintegration for unity, 
 destruction rather than life. 
 
 But a voice came to me from the pimpernel 
 and the cedar, saying : "The sand and the pebble 
 and the rock may also become as we if they will 
 take hold of our helping hands ; for that are we 
 sent to them. We call them through every little 
 pore and cell, and reach down to them by every 
 
248 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 root and fibre ; they may climb by our strong, 
 clasping roots, or creep up by our tender rootlets 
 as by a ladder they may take hold of the cedar's 
 grappling arms and yield up their mineral parti- 
 cles till they are lifted into the plant-life by 
 giving of their strength to its growth; then will 
 they be transformed into beauty and wholeness; 
 the crumbling stones will be built into ever- 
 renewing structures of fruitful growth. From 
 the mineral kingdom they are born into the vege- 
 table kingdom, because they took the offered 
 hand of the plant which reached down to them 
 from above ; for all things that will receive kelp 
 from above are lifted up and born again into a 
 higher kind of life. 
 
 So I thought it may be with the children. 
 Teachers and books, parents and friends, beautiful 
 nature, and the Holy Spirit, all reach down and 
 offer their helping hands to the children, like 
 roots from a higher and more perfect life. If the 
 children will take hold of all these helping hands, 
 these pure and inviting thoughts and studies, and 
 offer their prayers to the Holy Spirit, letting 
 their desires and efforts respond to all good 
 influences, they grasp hold of hands which shall 
 
PARABLES. 249 
 
 lift them up, they climb by the roots of a higher 
 nature, they rise from a lower into a higher king- 
 dom. 
 
 For all who will ask and try may ascend and 
 be born again into a nobler life. "Ask and ye 
 sliall receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and it 
 shall be opened unto you." 
 
 PARABLE IX. 
 
 My little daughter brought in beautiful white 
 lilies from the garden, and placed them in a vase 
 before me ; Day lilies and Japanese lilies, exquisite 
 and pure in their loveliness. 
 
 And when I had observed their delicious fra- 
 grance, their graceful outlines, and their queenly 
 beauty, I examined them more carefully, to see 
 how they were made. 
 
 Then I found that all the parts were arranged 
 in a most orderly and regular way, and that each 
 flower was made exactly according to the 
 pattern. The flower was in threes : the petals 
 three, the sepals three, the stamens six, and the 
 stigma in three divisions. Its construction was 
 orderly, harmonious, and symmetrical, as is every 
 
250 HOW StIALL AfY CHILD BE TAUGHT! 
 
 work of God. Order and harmony are laws of 
 God in Nature ; so must they be in life. 
 
 I noticed especially in the Japanese lily the 
 anthers vibrating on the stamens so delicately 
 poised, and on examination I perceived a purpose 
 and design in this beautiful contrivance ; it was 
 so adjusted that the pollen, the rich brown dust 
 which ripens into seeds within the ovary, might 
 be shaken down upon the sensitive stigma to be 
 received into the ovary. 
 
 Now I knew that all God's works have design 
 and purpose in their adjustment. Our life, as 
 well as that of the lily, is arranged and contrived 
 for a useful end by God, who, though omnipotent, 
 yet deigns to form the lily as carefully as if that 
 were His only work. In everything, so the lily 
 taught me, God has a loving purpose and a wise 
 design. 
 
 PARABLE X. 
 
 " Consider the lilies, how they grow" 
 
 I saw again the lovely blossoms, to study them 
 still more, for they were full of God's lessons. I 
 saw the like parts to be opposite and to corre- 
 spond ; I saw that, though distinct from each 
 
PARABLES. 2$ I 
 
 other, they were in a manner together and united. 
 The flower was a union of opposites, and much of 
 its order and beauty was owing to this union of 
 opposites. 
 
 So I learned that all unities are made up of dis- 
 tinct parts, and that the most beautiful thing, or 
 unity, is the harmony or reconciliation of oppo- 
 sites ; and I was glad to think that the human 
 soul, which sometimes seems so far from God, may 
 also be reconciled to Him, and, like the flower, 
 produce a beautiful union, a harmony of opposites. 
 I learned that all that seems discordant, separate, 
 or opposite in life, as, for example, good and 
 evil, love and hate, pain and pleasure, suffering 
 and joy, may be reconciled to each other, and, 
 by their union, produce the most beautiful and 
 perfect life. 
 
 This is a hard saying, but it is the law of God, 
 in nature and in life, that the most perfect union 
 is the reconciliation of opposites ; so I taught the 
 children to look for that union in nature, and to 
 seek it in life, for it is the fulfilment of God's eter- 
 nal law. 
 
 Love is the fulfilling of the law. 
 
252 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 PARABLE XI. 
 
 I walked with a geologist through a mountain 
 region ; great granite hills were piled up to the 
 sky ; the surface of their rocky slopes was covered 
 with trees and shrubs, leaves and flowers ; the 
 crumbling outside had been converted into all this 
 beautiful verdure and vegetable life. We often 
 struck a bowlder with the hammer and saw its 
 veins of mineral which furnished material for the 
 glorious forests that garlanded the mountain- 
 chain. At last my friend, by the blow of his 
 hammer, revealed a beautiful gem hidden in the 
 heart of the granite. " Here it is ! " he said, and 
 handed me the crystal. All its sides were per- 
 fect ; its form a miracle of geometric perfection ; 
 its clearness and glowing lustre like the very soul 
 of light and glory. 
 
 Then it flashed upon my mind that the heart of 
 the bowlder was so far from any opportunity to 
 grow from the outside into the beautiful plant-life, 
 it was so deeply hidden and shut up to itself, that 
 all its energies had to work inward, and had con- 
 centrated themselves in this work of perfecting 
 and transfiguring the rock until it had become 
 the very essence of light and beauty. 
 
PARABLES. 253 
 
 Now, why should I suddenly think of my little 
 darling lame and sick child, alone in her poor 
 home, shut away from learning, and from the 
 pleasures of childhood, helpless and inactive as to 
 her outward life, but so patient, so hopeful, so 
 sweet and trusting and loving as to remind me of 
 heaven when I went to sit down by her bedside ? 
 Why but that she was like the hidden gem whose 
 forces, not being able to reach out into life, had 
 been used by God to transfigure her soul until it 
 shines like a pure and perfect jewel. 
 
 Therefore I would say to such as are shut out, 
 by poverty, by sickness, by circumstances, 
 from all that seems like growth and development, 
 do not despair ; God will make it up to you ; all 
 loss and trial He will compensate ; your unspent 
 forces may, by his grace, work inward upon your 
 soul, to make it perfect in symmetry and light and 
 beauty, one of God's hidden and precious jewels. 
 
 PARABLE XII. 
 
 I had travelled from day to day through the 
 prairie-land of the West. I had seen its thousands 
 of acres of growing grain ; I had visited the great 
 granaries, and seen the stored harvest ; I had 
 
HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 passed by the beautiful vineyards, and had seen 
 the rich fruitage and the vats of purple wine from 
 the wine-press. " O bountiful nature ! " I ex- 
 claimed, "bread and wine, corn and fruit, gold and 
 purple wealth of the rich land thou dost offer to 
 man for his abundant food." 
 
 At that I came to the noisy and crowded city, 
 and visited the exchange. " What is all this hot 
 and eager traffic, this contention and shouting ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " It is buying and selling ; it is the selfish greed 
 of man dealing with the golden grain." 
 
 The grain waves beautiful still upon the harvest- 
 field, or is heaped up in bushels of shining kernelsj 
 in its granaries, or on the rail cars and lake 
 steamers or canal boats ; this is its voice speaking 
 through the passions of man, and it is the voice of 
 mixed good and evil, a discordant and warring tone. 
 
 I saw, also, men excited or helpless by using 
 whiskey or wine, men who seemed changed to 
 demons, drunken and bereft of manly self-control, 
 and I remembered that the wine and the whiskey 
 were also the fruit of the grain and the grape, con- 
 verted to evil uses and made to degrade rather 
 than to benefit mankind. 
 
PARABLES. 255 
 
 "Alas ! " I said, "good may be changed to evil, 
 right to wrong, beauty to ugliness, use to abuse, 
 by the lust and passion of man. The tree of life 
 which is in the midst of the garden of earth must 
 also be to man the tree of the knowledge of good 
 and evil. Forbidden fruit grows in the most 
 beautiful of Nature's harvests, good and evil are 
 on the same branch, and a man must choose 
 between them. Each of us must make his choice 
 at once. 
 
 Ye cannot serve God and mammon. Choose ye 
 this day whom ye will serve. 
 
 PARABLE XIII. 
 
 I plucked a fresh leaf from the tree ; all its 
 cells were full, its veins firm and strong, its color 
 vivid, and its outline perfect ; it had grown 
 steadily, supplied with sap from the stalk and 
 plant ; it was so beautiful I wished to keep it. 
 
 But soon it began to fade and dry ; its life 
 departed, its cells shrunk, its color vanished, and 
 it was withered and brown and dead ; then it 
 crumbled to dust and blew away. It was 
 necessary to its beauty and freshness that it 
 
256 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 should remain connected with its source of life 
 and strength. 
 
 Thus it is with the mind and soul. If they 
 abandon and forget their source of nourishment, 
 books, observation, and thought for the mind, 
 high conduct, noble aims, communion with 
 God for the soul, they will degenerate and decay 
 and become like the withered leaf or idle chaff. 
 The branch cannot bear fruit of itself except it 
 abide in the vine^ neither can ye except ye abide in 
 me, said Jesus. 
 
 PARABLE XIV. 
 
 A little girl was taken sick; a swelling upon 
 the knee made it necessary to keep her in bed 
 for some months, and to keep her leg quite still. 
 
 " Now," said the doctor, " we must rub that leg 
 often every day, or it will shrink and not grow as 
 fast as the one that is well and can move about, 
 for disuse weakens the muscles, and when they 
 do not gain strength, they lose it." 
 
 So it is with the heart ; if we are not loving 
 
 / 
 
 what is good, we are losing the power to love it, 
 and learning more and more to love the wrong ; 
 if we are not earnestly desiring and striving to do 
 
PARABLES. 257 
 
 our best, we are getting more and more inclined 
 to do less than that, and tending more and more 
 to do and to be our worst. 
 
 PARABLE XV. 
 
 High up in the clear sky flies the bluebird, 
 among the first to 'herald the coming spring. He 
 flies swiftly above the clouds, in sunshine and in 
 storm, singing a joyous carol. His wings are the 
 color of the deep blue sky, and here he a v nd his 
 tribe stay with their cheerful song from March to 
 October, first to come, and last to go, and always 
 finding something to be happy about, even in the 
 early spring or the late autumn. He is like the 
 cheerful and trustful soul that pursues its onward 
 flight above the clouds of trouble through the 
 clear sky of love and trust. It sings its sweetest 
 songs when the cold winds of discouragement and 
 disappointment blow about its path. It reaches 
 its home at last safe and happy because trusting 
 in God's care, and finds its shelter and food, 
 though the whole earth looks empty and barren. 
 It flies at the call of God, who never misleads it, 
 but guides it through the trackless air safely to 
 the very place where it would go. 
 
258 HO W SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 Let us be like the bluebird, and be sure that as 
 God guides him and sustains him, so He will 
 guide and sustain the least of us if we do our 
 duty cheerfully, and follow trustfully where He 
 leads. 
 
 Jesus said, "Yet one of them does not fall to 
 the ground without your Father. Are ye not 
 much better than they ? " 
 
 PARABLE XVI. 
 
 Behold the snow-flakes falling ! They are so 
 white, so feathery, one would think them light 
 and formless as air ; but, catch them in the hand, 
 and look carefully, and you may see they are 
 made of starry crystals of ice, shaped as carefully 
 and beautifully as a flower. 
 
 And the flowers of summer, too, are they not 
 arranged in beautiful order, symmetrical, and 
 balanced in every part, three petals, three sepals, 
 a three-lobed stigma, and three or six stamens, as 
 if all had been counted and fitted exactly to a pat- 
 tern of beauty ? And so it is exactly fitted to the 
 thought of God. It is the same with the jewel in 
 its hidden bed ; God has cut it in lovely forms, as 
 
PARABLES. 259 
 
 the flower and the snow-crystal, according to His 
 pattern of beauty for the world and for the soul, 
 and the flower and the gem and the snow-flake all 
 lend their forces and their particles to carry out 
 His law, which moulds them into beauty and 
 harmony. 
 
 Now behold the young hearts God has given 
 you, and remember that He would mould them 
 also into beauty, but you must lend Him your 
 will and love and faithfulness to help Him do 
 for you what He cannot do without your consent. 
 Give Him your conscience to do everything exactly 
 right ; your love to harmonize your soul with His, 
 as the pure snow and the clear crystal and the 
 lovely flower are in harmony with His plans for 
 them ; your will in choosing pure influences, good 
 habits and companions, and avoiding what is 
 wrong ; then, as you grow up into men and 
 women, you will have characters of symmetry, 
 purity, and beauty, fitted to shine like the gem, 
 to bloom like the flower, to hold up a lofty ideal 
 as the snow-flake holds its delicate pattern of 
 beauty clear and unbroken through wind and 
 storm, that at last you may be set as jewels in 
 God's everlasting crown. 
 
200 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 " For the invisible things of Him from the 
 foundation of the world are clearly seen, being 
 understood from the things which are made." 
 
 PARABLE XVII. 
 
 Oh, the pretty little Housatonias ! a patch of 
 their delicate stars here, a patch there, all over 
 the low meadow. Let us look closely at them. 
 In this patch we see four little stamen-tips held 
 up even with the white cross made by the four 
 lobes of the petal ; in the next patch the two 
 stigmas spread out above the opening corolla ; 
 the two kinds are always in different patches ; 
 the sort that shows the tips of the anthers and 
 with the open corolla has a short style which 
 brings the two stigmas half way up the tube of 
 the corolla ; the other sort has the anthers low 
 and the stigmas high. The partridge-berry and 
 the primrose have their flowers on the same plan ; 
 and we ask what the plan is for ? 
 
 Now when the little insect, flying from clump 
 to clump over the moist meadow, alights on these 
 little violet-colored, dainty flowers for his break- 
 fast, he pokes his tongue down into the tube for 
 
PARABLES. 
 
 26l 
 
 the nectar, he gets his face smeared with pollen 
 from the high anthers, and as he flies to the high 
 stigmas, that pollen is rubbed off by them, which 
 is just what was meant to be done, for the pollen 
 will only ripen into seeds when left in the stigma ; 
 also, as he gets the pollen from the low anthers 
 he carries it to the flowers with the low stigmas ; 
 so he finds the flowers contrived for his service as 
 nicely as any plan can be devised for a certain 
 end. So, if you look at the laurel with its nicely 
 arranged corolla in such regular rosy points with 
 the tips of the stamens bent over, each in its 
 particular niche, you see a wonderful contrivance 
 for the bee to carry the pollen from flower to 
 flower ; for the filaments are so many springs 
 which will remain until the flower fades, unless 
 touched ; but as the bee jostles them in his 
 search around the ovary at the bottom of the 
 flower, they all start off and discharge their 
 battery of pollen-dust over the body and legs of 
 the bee. Try it with your finger, and see the 
 shock with which the ten anthers project their 
 grain as if shot from a pea-shooter. Then the 
 dusty fellow 'flies to another blossom, and while 
 he revolves about the stigma with his head in the 
 
262 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 tube he leaves all his bags of gold in that safe 
 bank to accumulate interest while the season 
 lasts, and at the same time he sets off another 
 round of shot from the ten spring-guns, and gets 
 loaded up for another trip. Isn't this a capital 
 contrivance? And yet the bee doesn't know 
 anything about it, and his part in it is an uncon- 
 scious one, although so essential. The flower 
 itself knows nothing of the purpose, and if it were 
 conscious it might even consider the spring of 
 the filaments and the scattering of its pretty 
 yellow pollen, leaving the soft anthers bare and 
 the little pink pockets empty, as a terrible 
 calamity, quite ignorant that this seeming disaster 
 is the climax of its growing activity, the great 
 object of its destiny, and the aim of all its loveli- 
 ness and symmetry. So is God's plan for us 
 careful and minute for the fullest development of 
 our powers, for the most increasing blessing of 
 our existence. We do not understand that wise 
 and beneficent plan, and when our golden pollen 
 of hopes is scattered and the accumulations we 
 have delighted in are borne away, we grieve at 
 the loss, and think God has forgotten to bless us ; 
 but He contrives in the beginning for the end and 
 
PARABLES. 263 
 
 works all things together for good to us ; we may 
 wither as the bright laurel-bloom, but still we 
 know God's purposes for us will ripen, and He has 
 marked out every step of the way for us ; for His 
 plans are kind and can never fail, and all our tears 
 are counted by Him. He who makes such careful 
 provision for the fruitage of the flowers contrives 
 as well for us, though we see not how. 
 
 PARABLE XVIII. 
 
 Did you ever see a bee fly from flower to flower, 
 sipping its nectar and gathering honey ? Did you 
 think it got its sweets for nothing ? Did you sup- 
 pose the flower said, " Yes, honey-bee, take all 
 you want ; I charge you nothing." No ; if you 
 could hear it, it would say in your ear, " I make 
 Mr. Buzzer do a brother's work for me. While he 
 pushes his yellow head into my pollen-tubes, and 
 tips his tongue into my nectar-spurs, I dust him 
 well with the pollen I want to send to my neigh- 
 bors, and he carries it right easily for me, even if 
 he doesn't know it. Sometimes I sprinkle his 
 nose with my little globules ; sometimes I stick 
 bags of pollen hanging to his legs and poking out 
 
264 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 like horns from his head ; sometimes I open a 
 trap-door where he doesn't expect it, and he has to 
 go out the back way to carry the load I have 
 given him. Sometimes I touch a spring arid dis- 
 charge a volley of pollen at him as he is sipping 
 or tucking away his wax-balls in his side-pockets, 
 and he is covered all over with the merchandise I 
 want him to carry to the waiting flowers, where 
 he will be sure to go. I even get him to touch off 
 the springs himself, which shoot the tiny yellow 
 shot all over him, or fasten loads of it to his head, 
 just where it will be left on the stigma of the next 
 flower he enters. Ah ! we are cunning, and 
 make the bee and the insect pay for all we give 
 them." 
 
 Now, little butterfly children, you flying about 
 the garden of youth, have to do your part in it, 
 after all ; you cannot enjoy anything without 
 working for it ; you cannot take without giving ; 
 you must do your share, a brother's or sister's 
 part. You cannot learn without work, or play 
 without earning the right to it. Think of the gay, 
 happy butterfly, and the busy bee, as they gather 
 their sweets, and remember that as they take they 
 give, as they carry and work for themselves they 
 
PARABLES. 265 
 
 carry and work for others, too, and no living crea- 
 ture can live for himself alone. 
 
 " For the invisible things of Him from the 
 foundation of the world are clearly seen, being 
 understood from the things which are made." 
 
 PARABLE XIX. 
 
 Have you watched the twining vines, turning 
 about to show their lovely blossoms ? The morn- 
 ing-glory and nasturtium, the clematis, or the 
 Virginia creeper, peeping in and out our lattices, 
 and holding themselves up as they seem to stand 
 on tiptoe at our chamber windows ; you see them 
 reaching out their finger-like tendrils, feeling for a 
 support, and then, getting a good hold, they twine 
 around it and draw the whole vine that way until 
 it grows firm and can never be drawn away. 
 
 I think of the vines and their tendrils as I look 
 at my scholars ; they, like the vines, are young and 
 tender, and unable to grow up by themselves, but 
 hold out clasping hands to others as the vines 
 hold out their delicate tendrils. There are many 
 who offer a hand to help the children climb ; but 
 there are also false supports, which give way just 
 when they are most needed and the vine, with 
 
266 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 its bright flowers and rich fruits, falls in the dust, 
 to be trampled on and spoiled. The little vine 
 tendrils seem to know when to cling and what it 
 will be unsafe to clasp. The growing tendril seek- 
 ing a support often turns aside so as to make a 
 clear sweep above what it would easily wind around. 
 A wise man who has watched the slender passion- 
 flower revolve says, " We may see with wonder 
 that when a tendril comes round so that its base 
 nears the stem, which it will not be safe to clasp, 
 it stops short, rises stiffly upright until it passes 
 by the stem, then comes back again and moves on 
 so till it again approaches and again avoids what 
 it must not entwine." 
 
 So children, as they put out their tendrils of 
 thoughts and wishes, can choose what to cling to, 
 and, if they have come near what is unsafe and 
 will not give support, can stop short and swing 
 above it, holding up their thoughts with a stiff 
 will and resolve to avoid the wrong. Their clasp- 
 ing thought-tendrils will draw the whole vine 
 toward what they have clung to, and the life will 
 grow bent and strong in just that direction, until 
 it is impossible ever to turn it aside. See the 
 vine tendril twist and coil as it pulls the vine 
 
PARABLES. 267 
 
 closer and stronger to its tie ! So the thoughts 
 and inclinations of the child twist and coil into 
 habits drawing the life and character as they will. 
 Watch, then, your thoughts and desires that they 
 do not reach out to false supports and twist and 
 coil into unyielding habits which draw the soul to 
 sure destruction^ but let them climb ever up to 
 the light of truth and purity under the clear air of 
 heaven. 
 
 PARABLE XX. 
 
 I hardly knew that winter was gone, but, as I 
 walked along the road where the willows grow, I 
 noticed the furry buds alternate on the branches, 
 so I broke off a few to put into my vase at home 
 that I might watch them swell to yellow tassels as 
 the days went by. The ends broken from the 
 bough were wet, and, as I walked on, drops col- 
 lected and fell from them. I knew it was the sap 
 that had crept up the tiny tubes from the roots 
 of the tree to carry life to every little twig and 
 burst into bud and blossom. How wonderful, I 
 thought, is the ascent of this life-giving sap in the 
 veins of the brown and quiet stems ! It rises 
 without a sound or any promise of coming that we 
 
268 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 can hear, and it is only in the swelling bud and 
 the opening leaf or flower we first perceive its 
 presence or its wonder-working power. It is 
 hidden, but ever-ascending, and at last it brings 
 the dead world to life and spreads verdure and 
 fruitfulness throughout nature. 
 
 So it is with the impulse of a soul toward God ; 
 it may be unseen and unheard, but at last it trans- 
 forms the life, and blooms into full beauty of char- 
 acter ; it is ever active, rising into every hidden 
 channel of life-work, infusing its virtue and energy 
 into every thought and word and act, until, like 
 the sap in, the barren tree, it has converted the 
 whole life that contains it into one bountiful 
 expression of beauty and fruition. 
 
 I saw, too, that the sap rises not only in great 
 trees whose years can be counted by the rings on 
 their sawed-off trunks, but also in the little sap- 
 lings of a summer's growth; not only in the old 
 oaks which drop a thousand acorns, but in the 
 tender young shoots glowing with deep red leaf- 
 buds in the spring. 
 
 So the holy purpose of good living and the 
 wonder-working love of God springs not alone in 
 grown men and women, but in the hearts of the 
 
PARABLES. 269 
 
 children, where it rises day by clay, fuller and 
 stronger, to make them grow better and more like 
 green trees planted by the river, whose leaves 
 shall not wither, and that bring forth fruit in their 
 season. 
 
 TARABLE XXI. 
 
 There is a road on the shores of the Merrimac, 
 not far from the home of the poet Whittier, which 
 runs through a lovely stretch of pine woods called 
 Follymill Woods. There you may find the earli- 
 est flowers of spring : the Hepatica ; the Anem- 
 one ; the Trientalis ; the Solomon's Seal ; the 
 Strawbell ; the Violet : and, most beautiful of all, 
 the Epigea or Mayflower, in all its pink loveliness 
 and delicious fragrance. You may go there when 
 the March winds are chill, or patches of snow still 
 lie in the hollows ; not a green leaf has spread its 
 blade nor the grass begun to spring forth, yet by 
 pushing away the dead brown leaves from the 
 stems, you will disclose the most delicate of the 
 year's blossoms, the purple and pink Hepatica ; it 
 looks up from the brown mould like the trustful 
 eye of childhood, wide open and beautiful as the 
 clear sky above it. Like all the flowers I have 
 
2/0 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 named, it seems fragile and tender, not ready for 
 the struggle of life or the rude blasts that await 
 it ; but it comes forth at the call of its Maker as 
 fresh and perfect as if kissed by the June sun- 
 shine and breathed upon by the zephyrs of 
 summer. 
 
 I like to pass the noon hours of late March or 
 early April in the woods of Follymill, for the 
 sweet breath of the pine, the sound of the near 
 river rushing with the freshness of mountain 
 snows melted into its swollen current, as well as 
 the sweet young flowers at my feet, all tell me 
 how near and how good is the Father and Creator 
 of nature and of life. As He is close to the 
 spring blossoms, and cares for their tender loveli- 
 ness, as He protects their fragile forms from the 
 cold winds, and covers them with the dead leaves 
 for warmth, or wraps their stems and buds in 
 downy folds, so He watches over the children in 
 their tender youth, and shelters them from .storms 
 of trouble, gives them hope and joy and love, like 
 sweet, delicate petals unfolding to beautify life as 
 the spring flowers beautify the woods of Follymill. 
 
 Jesus said, " If God so clothe the grass of the 
 field, shall he not much more clothe you ? " 
 
PARABLES. 271 
 
 PARABLE XXII. 
 
 A fresh green leaf stands up from the elm 
 bough into the sunshine. As the light gleams 
 through it I see somewhat of its pattern of beauty, 
 its frame-work of veins so symmetrical, its margin 
 of points so nicely cut, its delicate plaits so pre- 
 cise ; and I see still more, that its fibre is filled 
 in with little egg-like cells, all green and bubbling. 
 What is going on in that pretty leaf ? 
 
 Ah, the leaf is an exquisite factory for the 
 manufacture of plant-tissue. It is just packed 
 with the green, translucent cells in which the very 
 water of life seems to bubble and roll. Each cell 
 is a little loom in the leaf-factory ; it does honest 
 and busy work all day, the sun and air helping it, 
 the sap flowing into it, and the tide of life pulsat- 
 ing through it. Each cell is not too small for 
 God to come to with his gifts of life and light, nor 
 too small to do its part of the work for the whole 
 leaf; but its one part is just as great and neces- 
 sary as any other part, so it works away, weaving 
 and building into the leaf, until its pattern of 
 beauty and regularity, its unity and harmony are 
 complete. 
 
2/2 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 My little school is a green leaf, and the children 
 are the active and willing cells. None are too 
 small or too insignificant to work for the whole 
 and weave the pretty web of life and joy. None 
 are too humble or too careless for God to come to 
 with His life and light of love and truth, but every 
 one can fill in and build in joyfully its part of 
 order and harmony for the whole. We may say 
 that the veins and framework are the rules and the 
 teacher : they give the pattern ; each cell must be 
 very exact and careful and put its work just 
 according to that pattern, or the whole leaf will be 
 out of order. Each fine curve of the pointed 
 edge, each folded plait of the leaf is true, so with 
 thorough and faithful work each distinct child-cell 
 shall build up the beauty of the school-leaf, its 
 growth and perfection. And as each little cell in 
 the leaf is building the tissue of the plant and 
 strengthening itself and the whole at the same 
 time, so is each child building in for himself, and 
 for all the rest, the firm tissue of mind and char- 
 acter, and clothing all in a garment of loveliness 
 and growth which shall last forever. 
 
.PARABLES. 273 
 
 PARABLE XXIII. 
 
 I lay idly swaying in my hammock as the deep 
 river rolled by ; the current was strong and swift, 
 and rushing out to the sea not two miles away. I 
 observed its steady rush, and thought of the force 
 which had gathered it from the hills and brought 
 it with greater and greater swiftness on its way to 
 the ocean ; but when I looked again, the waters 
 had turned on their course, and the salt waves 
 seemed to be flooding the clear river with a might- 
 ier power to push back its current again. 
 
 " That is the tide," said my friend. " I sit here 
 by the river-cliff and wonder at its mystery. Up 
 it comes regularly, twice a day ; then back it 
 goes, and the fresh mountain water speeds once 
 more, unhindered, to the great home of waters. 
 What does it mean, this ebb and flow, unremitting, 
 forever ? " 
 
 "It means," I said, "that the great law of 
 Nature, alternation, renovating change, is the 
 law of life ; rest and activity, night and day, sleep 
 and waking, like the law of the pendulum measur- 
 ing the time ; it is the direction of God's hand in 
 the working of the machinery of the universe ; His 
 
2/4 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 finger on the wheels ; His swing in the pendulum. 
 I copy it unconsciously as I swing here in the 
 hammock ; my pulse beats to its touch ; my heart 
 throbs with its motion ; the sea rushes up to the 
 shores to tell us God's power is behind and within 
 all, and that His way for us is that of regular ebb 
 and flow. If sorrow comes for a night, joy returns 
 in the morning. If we go too far in one way, we 
 shall go just as far in the opposite; and extreme 
 leads to extreme. It is a law of health that we 
 shall have this flood^ and this retreat of force, of 
 feeling, of desire, and happiness. We must bal- 
 ance our rise and fall ; we must measure our mo- 
 tions as evenly and quietly as possible ; and let 
 every alternation of life, every heart-beat, and 
 every aspiration, remind us of the tide of God's 
 love and power around us and within us." 
 
 " But," said my friend, " is it not of some far-off 
 attraction and repulsion that the tide tells?" 
 
 "That may be, too," said I, "for who knows 
 what far-off fact or event, what influence beyond 
 our knowledge, draws us or drives us ? Some- 
 thing which we have not the eye to see, which no 
 telescope can reach ; something in our history 
 before we were born : something in our destiny of 
 
PARABLES. 275 
 
 which we are quite ignorant, yet affects us every 
 day and hour of our lives, but it is all a part of 
 God's leading or withholding ; and near or far, 
 small or great, is the secret touch of His finger 
 upon the spring of our lives. Let our heart and 
 all its influences respond to God's finger-touch, 
 swing toward the high, even the unattainable ; let 
 our thoughts swell with their unceasing reach 
 after heavenly things, and their tides, like the 
 ocean's, will invigorate and refresh the current of 
 our lives." 
 
 The law of balance, Nature thus teaches us, is 
 one of God's laws of progressive life, spiritual and 
 physical. 
 
 PARABLE XXIV. 
 
 So, as we sat by the river, with the rushing, 
 mighty tide coming up about the rocks and dash- 
 ing its salt waves into the recesses, the evening 
 came upon us. The river glowed with the sunset 
 lights, and by and by reflected the great planet of 
 evening broken into a thousand jewels by the play 
 of waters. We talked and thought, perhaps with 
 each other, perhaps with God, who seemed to 
 have come so close in His tides and His stars and 
 
2/6 HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 
 
 the great blaze of His sunset glory. " There 
 hangs the evening star," we said ; " it is steady ; 
 and we have learned that it, with the other 
 heavenly bodies, does not swing to and fro, but 
 moves undisturbed in its great circles ; in the 
 beauty of the curve its motions are set and its 
 path has no alternations." So in greater perfec- 
 tion of motion Nature pursues her course as her 
 sphere of life ascends. The forces which draw 
 the heavenly bodies are opposite indeed, but so 
 truly balanced, so unbrokenly obeyed, that they 
 move on in their orbits subject to no extremes, to 
 no violence of motion, to no variation of aim, but 
 with one eternal centre and an unwavering course 
 about it. So the law of balance has become a lazv 
 of rest in motion; and that is the law of the high- 
 est activity. To that may our life-course tend in 
 the eternal progress of our souls. 
 
SYCHOLOGY 
 
 By GABRIEL COMPAYRE 
 
 Translated by WILLIAM H. PAYNE, Ph.D., LL.D., 
 
 Chancellor of the University of Nashville, and President of the 
 Peabody Normal College 
 
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