'f' ^^- '^^f^ -/M^^^^^r;^'! 'klii LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ©^ap.- ®mm¥ 1» Shelf-../:L7-S UNITED STATES OF AMEEIOA. '^:^^/P5!r'^ /r^im FC ^f^ -in 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 1.50 MOTHERHOOD. Full gilt 1.50 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE . 1.25 ♦ LEE AND 8HEPARD, PUBLISHERS. BOSTON. HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT 1 PRACTICAL PEDAGOGY THE SCIENCE OF TEACHING ILLUSTRATED BY LOUISA P. HOPKINS BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 1887 Copyright, iSS6, by Lee and vShepakd. A/l Rights Reserved. MOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? Electrotyped by C. J. Peters and Son, Boston. 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 VIII. Reading to the Children 68 IX. Oral Lessons 73 on birds 11 IN botany — i., ii., iii., iv "^1 iii. IV CONTENTS. X. Primary Class in Physics iii XI. Primary Class in Physiology — i., ii., iii., iv., v. . 136 vi. THE senses 161 vii. THE EYE 164 viii. THE SENSE OF HEARING l68 ix. VITAL ORGANS: — THE HEART I74 THE LUNGS I76 THE DIGESTIVE ORGANS I78 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 Wbntworth 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 HIGGINSOX'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 teacKer 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 onr 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 — Xll COLO X EL lUGGLNSON'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. — Womaii s Journal of January 19, 1878. HOW SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? CHAPTER I. THE BABE IN THE MOTHER S ARMS ; 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. 2 NO IV SHALL MV CHLLD BE 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 s-ivin": 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 NOJV SI/ALL 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 svstem 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 fancies 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 dro]3s low, The curtain of sleep is falling On all that the babe may know. CHAPTER 11. 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 \cry impressible and retentive. They see, and love to see, the most minute details, and are sus- ce})tible of much training in making special obser- vations ; they also learn facts easily, and the mem- ory stores up permanently all in whicli they have an active interest. Now is the time for I heir 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 o HOW SI/ALL 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 yEolian 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 KIXDERGARTEX. 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 no: 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 lO now SUM I M\ (■/////> /un(ls toL;"ctluM-, to build up s\'llahK\s, \\n>rils, ami scnlcuccs, to (.-oiniuit ti^ UKMuorv chau^i;cs in the li^rnis of \voi\ls, as the conju^i;-ations aud deelensious, and ti) be- eouie familiar, after Sauveur's method, with words and i^hrases in other lani;uaL;es than his own. How mueh of all this may be uKule a pastime and be all the m(H"e thoroughly aecpiired fiM" fuluie use, and thus the iouiulation be laid [ox a true and generous eullure ! Tiiere arc such gTcat differences in children as to their a})prchcnsion of moral truths, still uumc of spiritual truths, that the work must be quite indi- vidu 1 in this ilcycloi^mcnt ; but what a healtliy insjMratiiMi, ])crhaps creatiye jnnvcM-, ccMiies from all this study of Nature! With a reverent L^uide, they feel the nearness and the i;"oodness of the wise and lovine; All-Father in all thit they search into ; thcN' trace Ids thought there, and learn to ]o\-e him ; a perception L;rows within them of sonicthini; he is ready to whisper to their secret hearts, until they listen for that conscience-word and let it i;overn them. Such recc)L;nition is the germ of all spiritual life, — I had almost said its Ai'Ti.N Til! M.\ ni-k\;.ik' ri'.y. w fl()VV(M-, — niid is waitin;;- to s])iini;' up '\\\ the heart of childhood ; it takes toot in (V^vy principK's of lift\ and i;rows into viilnc, ic^.;ulalin;;- the instituis nioi'c suiH'ly than i)rc'(H'i)t s, and (K'Vidopin;; Ih;^ hi'^hest cdiaraclcM- nuitdi hettiM" than aibiliaiy codes. To hiin;;' my thonL'hIs to a fotais on this suh- H\d, — what sliall he attempted for the child who comes from the kinderi;"artcn all I'cady to leain, hut as yet unac(|uaintc(l vvitli hooks ? [ answer, all, and moi-e than all, that may he found in eh'- mentary treatises in every department of natural science may be _i;iven him in object -lessons, in a comparatively short time, with what is of vastly more impoi taiuH' an enthusiast ic: love for tlieso studies, a habit ol carelul obsiM'vat ion, and a tiain- in<;- of the sens(\s which shall be a ;;-reat addition to his power in science, art, or practii'al life. lie may at llu; same tiiue lay up in his memoiy the j^i'ouud facts of wiitlen and spoken lan!;uai;e and mathematics. TIumi, by natural sta!;c's, he will turn with avidity to ici-ords of the observations of otlu'is, until a conception of aI■l"an^enK'nt , ^eneial- i/alion, and iidereiue will i;row up within him, the (lawn of a hi-her epoch in the hai nu)nious educa- tion ol 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 w^ell 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, A YEAR'S EXFERIMEXT IX 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 aniore, 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 geograpliy, 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 diifcrent 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 //Oir SHALL MY CHILD H-K JA C'CI/'J' ? and when their statements were put in systematic order on the blackboard, I showed them, to tlieir surprise and delight, that they had already known all that was contained in " (ireene's Jnlioduc- 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 elocution. 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, aj^plying 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 of 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 p:ngiand. lO //OIV 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 readinsf 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 w^ere 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 avcc mes Enfants," A YEAR'S EXPERIMENT IN TEACHING. 1/ 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- cludino; Arithmetic, Algebra, and Geometry, only 10 NO IV 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 t^ke 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. THE OPENIXG SCHOOL. 21 usually sugg-ested 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 morning, upturned to the glowing heavens and waving in 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 cxlvili. comes like an inspiration from their understand- ing hearts and eager lips, and sounds, as they repeat it together, like a paean of consecration. 22 //o]\- SUM I MY ciin.n nr. tauciit? 'J'hoy have no i>()stiircs or convent ioiialitics before the Spirit of (ioci, nor does the teacher attempt to conceal the attitude of her own heart, whatever it may be, nor (h)es she refrain from uttering any aspiration, as beyond the sympatliies of tlie chil- (hen, — but the thoui;ht and feeling of the hour How between her ami them unfettered. Now little Helle has to go, since she tunes her l)ab\- \oice too long ; s(> she says her *' Ciood-bye," to which there is (piick response as she throws her kisses back in de[xirting, and the quiet grouj) turn to the Gosjiel-rcading with unfeigned inter- est. J'here is moie or less eonnnent as they read, singly or in concert, and geogiaphical or historical associations are recalled, or a deeper tt)ne is taken in drawing their tlunights to the spiritual lesson. lUit the l^ible-reading is cari-ied on with fiequent vaiiation oi methotl; in connection with the study of Ancient llisti>ry it was made a panoiama of Hebrew history autl its corielations with other naticuis, and the strong pictures that mark dillcrent epochs were thrown out before them with great freedom of selection. Sometimes the teacher reads from the I'lench or (icrman Testa- ment, while the children follow each verse with Till-: or/:xiiVc; sci/oor. 23 conccrt-rcadiiiL;- of ihc lCii.!j,lish ; for c[iiiLc a I0111; time each pupil iiad in liini the char<;e of sclect- inji- and reading;- the lesson and the hymn. Now, if theie 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 experienee 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- ])athy and a magnetic imj)ulse of desire which is never wholly (lisap])()inted in their responsive con- sideration 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 "Tiuth" 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 I/O IV SHALL MY CLLILD 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 v.icancy 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 teacJicr 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 oi 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." — Kajit. 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 25 26 HOW SI/ALL MV 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 want^. 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 c?i 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 Jicrsclf ; 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 sio-ht of her in the crowd, nor confound her with her neighbor ; but keep her undistorted, uncramped, juigradedy — 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 //()//- SUM. I MY ciiii.n /.'/■; /'An;///'? <;riiuls down tlu'sc clear-cut cr\'stals of mind into a dead mass; it stops to pour all the biains within its reaidi throUL;h a wi'ekl>' sieve, till all (hsi intlixe (|ualities are' lost, and not one ol the line units can he distinguished Irom the still chsinte^rated whole. Why is it thought necessary lo kuow and exhibit the comparative proi;ress anil attainment constantlv ? Is it possible lor us to j)Ut owe mind so bv another as to dc^cide *' this is hiL^her," *'th:it is lowei"? l>rain-power has too many outlets and modes ol <;rowth Xo be subjected to such crude N'aluations. ! will have no eonijiarisons made amoni; my childi"en. I will allow none in m\' stdnu^l ; the only relatixe test 1 will j)ut is the test o{ co\\<.c\c\\ck.\ — Do )i)U rank well in the scale ol vonr possibilities ? In a small jirivate school, such as has been dis- cusstul in these papers, there is, perhaps, an uiui- sual inecjualitN' in powers and attainments. It o\{c\\ happens that a child who is peculiar, or who has hail an except it)nal course ol training;- or want of trainiui;, one whose lu\dth rctpiires sini;ular care, or whose education has bccai Irom some cause irreL;ularly carrieil on, is placed in 77//'. KF.Y-NOTE. 29 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 ])erfect 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 ajipreciate it, I shall bring all the enthusiasm and sympathy of my 30 J/Ol\- SHALL MY CHILD />■/-; 'LAUCllT? nature, as well as all the atlaiiiuients of my life, to hoar 111)011 it. And as in the educational economy of Christian- it \' we fnul a most exact moilel for such a method, -the teacher havin«;- secret sympathy and power with each disciple, — so is it not possihle that the ])arallel may be extended ; and, c\en in our far- distant followini;- of His ways of workin*;-, the phenomenon of seemini;- miracle mav still j^resent itself, — miracle which is only the normal result ol a deeiKM* understandiuL:, with nature ; a result which, for merely mechanical and superficial methotls, is simply im[)ossible. CHAITI-K VI. AKITIIMI-.TIC. < Wr: believe in tlie iiiiporlaiiee 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 cjuite a protiacted succession of mathematical operations, includinLC many which, heini;- 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 feclin<]^ that some wonderful feat has been accomplished; iKit the facility is very easily accjuired. In beginnin,!^ the study of written arithmetic, the writing and readinj; of numbers is taught so that the system of a uniform ratio of ten is clear, and a))i)eals to their logical sense. This includes decimal fractions, which aie notiiing else but a legitimate and integral part of the system. It is J' 32 now SUM I MY ciiii n /.'/• r.icdiirf jiisl ;is siinplr a ni.itUM to i"arr\" on t ho cU'crtMsc* 1^' Ions lo (ho ii;;ht ol iho iloiinial point as at the KMt ; lot ns not intoinipt thi> nni(\' ol iho staiulani ol nnnuaation riu> nso ol tho tiphor shonKl lu* niaiU' \oi\ plain, loi it L'J\t^s a ko\ to tho |M>sition instinrtion (^1 Mr. Stc.'.rn-;, in tho W'ost N\\vton Noinial Srh(u>l. lias fofi^'otton thooniphasis t>l that oil n^poatoJ slato- jnont. " ilu" oipluM moans sinipl\- that tluao is nothin;; Iumi>".^ iho iiloa anJ niannia' ol rhan^,- iiiL; lii',nic>s t>l ono knul to tlu^so (^1 anothoi. oithor In this SNstoni ol tons o> In ono ol twoKos, or hv othois ol \aiioil latios. ran bo niado plain anJ lixoJ oloaiK' in \\\c nnnJ. ami nuioh ol tho smuHH^hn;; wimU is simplitioil wlu'n this is ilono. It hootunos an oas\- mattia t(^ toarh aJJititMi and snbt lait um ol an\' liiMnws or qnantitios attoi" tho axiom is tluMom;hlv i\staMishoil. that onl\- thim;s ol tho samo kiml oan ho aJiloJ im snht i actod. Altta plont\- t>l (hill in ihoso (^potations tho class is loJ to iliscoMM', hv ropc\itc\l anJ !(\i;nlar aiKlitions anvl snht laot ions, tho nuilt iplicat ion and (li\ ision (ahlos. which shonKl nowa he i;i\on as .ni aihitan staiul.nAi or in\ia\tion ol man, Init onlv as A K I I'll Ml rn 33 a stali'iiKMit ol iiilicicnt pi (>|)(M t i»\s wliiclj .iic just as murli williiii llicii ()ii!;iii,il ohsci v.it ions ;is .my ollu'i I. ids ol iKiliiic. il is .isloiiishiii!' how much ol .11 il hiiH'l il' .1 rliiM cm disiovcr il pliuril al I \\c I i_;',lil out look. ( )i coursr, .ill lioiii'Ji llio iiisl I ml ion c.in hi^ (Miiicd llnis 1,11 ill .1 slioit liiuo, so ih.il llu' jxipils ni.i\' \)(' s.iid lo know .ind undci sl.md the piiiui- plcs, yet .1 ion;-, I nnr is ic(pnsilc loi .skdl .ind cisi' ill pracl ice. .Simple inuid)cis. lonipound ninn- hc'is, dctiin;ds. I'mlcd .SPiU's nioncy, nicl 1 u: syslcni, dnodi-rini.ds, piopoilions. .md 1 1 .iit ions, |)u! down as so ni.in\' distincl iii il hnicl icd sid)- jcrls in most IcxI hool'.s, .ind nkiiniin:', on Ihil ;icroiinl, .110 luil llic \'.iii("l\' ol in.ilcii.d on wliii h lo cvpciid ;dl ihis pi, u lice in lodihlion, .idditioii, iind siihl I ;ui ion ; .ind lliis pi.uiicc jdioiild ho vilidi/fd h\' Iho inlcicsl ol pi-i son.dil \'. Ti.itU' is vciy ;ill i.ul ivr lo ( hildu'ii. " ( )h I .iihniio hills," SMys M;il)i>l ; and IUmIIi.i icm.iiks, " M.iinma always lakes us sliopi)in;; with her now, lo sec thai she !;els the 1 i.idil eh:in!;e." They j;o shop- pin^' with money in lluir pockets, - -our easy cniicnc\'; Ihi'y cioss the w.ilei and lloek inlo a London .shop, with pounds, shiHinv.s, ,iiid pence, 34 noir shall ^Ly child he taucht? and Mai;i;io very ]:)crtinontly inquires why the German ami 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, antl the litre will take their i)lal:e. The properties of numbers, — factors, — the greatest common divisor, the least common multiple, can be presented antl understood as something quite interesting, — and fractions can be dealt with in the light of that essential princi- ple, that cpiantities must be UKule of a like kind in order to be atlded or subtracted, so that all their difficulties vanish, and the ni'^thod can be easily discovered by the children. All these can 1)0 intrt)duced incidentally, and concjuereci natur- all\' and unconsciously until the mind of the pu})il becomes familiar with them. Why need they be announced with the clamoring bugbear of a new title } r"^xperiment and induction will lead the pupil into all these jirocesses, 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 m^ 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 M> jiow SUM I I/)- ciiii n /.'/•• TArciir? <'\(>Iiil ion, shitiiM l>r i i-lr:',.iU'(l to ;il_:;rl)ia ;nul Mow ^>im|tU' .iiul .il 1 1 .ut i\r is llu' sliul\' ol miinbris nuliut i\ cU' lonsitlciril ;imi1 stiipiu'il ol ;ill its c>\rirsii'm-cs ! .ill t ho wii ions a\\(\ soiinJini;' lists ol llio iiulox icsoUc I lu'insi'K'OS iiiU> ;i low siiiil 'K' oiil linos, ol w hull ihowinous suh ili\isions onU liiimsh m.itoii.tl loi \\\v ywyW lo woi k upon wilh tho tools whuh llu' iiiuMuinnhoi oil soioiu'o (>l .lilt Imiot U' I 'lit s into his h.iiuls. •rill- ( l \SS IN AKl 1 lIMl' IIO. - IIS MlvSf INIKO- IMU I ION !«> I OMl'OlNn Nl'Mlll KS. M.t^^v').-. H.Mih.i, M.ilni, 1 ..m-. 0.»m.\ Amu, Mu .-, ( ;.•! Ii n.lc. I.ilii.-; .ill tiom .i.'.lit to l.n \r.n-. ol.l. 7\'iU'/t('r. ~ riuMo sits l'"ininii\ looLin;; .it hoi" i\ \', \\c\\ p.iuloii, i'lnmio ; hut whoic ili^l you i;ol th.it Ju\ss ? J\tnfui(. M\ .luntii" Inm-Jit it wIumi wo woro in I .tuulon ; it is .i >notoh *li i^ss. /i'./( A\', - So 1 thvMi;',ht. It is voiy iMoU)-. Phi slu- \\\\ toi It in Joll.ns .iiul oonts } JuMNttt, '— No W) , It cost iii;htoon shillin;j,s in l''n'\lish nionov. ANi riiM/' ric. 37 luff ft (I. ( )li, I know ;il)()iit l'.i);'jisli nun icy! Cliiiii l)(tn;',lit IIS .1 <'_ic;il niiiny ihiii^^s in London, iiiid nIk- (old nn- :dl ;d)ont it. A/diilLiic. — I slionid like to ;m) slioppin;-, there; Iiow Innny ! Triulic)-. Well, let's L'.o this iiiomiii}.^. IM.iy we are in l-ondon. I lave yon any money in yonr j)oekets? I will say \'oin ialheis have idven yoii each /, ^ to spend; l»nl I am ",lad, loi yoni eon- venienee, il isn't all in ponnd notes, hut a two- j)oimd note, ei;dileeii shiil in;; pieces, and twcMity- lonr pence, one ol which is woi I h neaily two cents. JMahil. ~\N\\\i, is that the same as thicc pounds ? /<(u//tr. Yes, ii I reckoned ii;;htly. It takes Iweivi- pence to make a shilliii;;, and twenty shil- lin;^s to make a ponnd. I .et ns write il down. 'I'wentyloni pence would then he two shilliii;_;s, and t hose, added to ei;dit ecu shilliiii;s, make t went y shilli!l<;s, — just the one ponnd we nee(l to make, with the tW()-j)oimd note, tliiee ptamds. Now, \\v. will hiiy some pietly thin;;s lor oni liiends, this iiioiiiiiin. Nella, do yon lenii-mhei llie exhihil of I'Ji^lish i)otleiy al llie Ccntc-innal ^ ** Vcs " ; well, 38 NO IV SHALL MV 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. TeacJier. — 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 £,\ I2S. BertJia. — I will take two terra-cotta vases. TeacJier. — 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. TeacJier. — 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 los. ; a Parian statuette of Cupid ARI THME TIC. 3 9 for Gertrude's purchase, worth £,\ 6s. ; and a beautiful platter, of Lambeth pottery, worth £,\ 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, los. ; table ornament, in Faience ware, £^\ 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 dinigg-room. I have seen them ; they are as nice as pictures. TeacJier. — 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 £,\ per dozen ; how much is that apiece ? 40 HO IV SHALL MY CHLLD 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 ? Sevei'al. — Oh ! shillings ! change it to shillings. Bei'tJia. — 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 — AIL — 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. TeacJier. — 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 . 2 Terra-cotta vases for Bertha 4 Staffordshire tiles for Louie . I Rockingham tea-pot for Alice .. I Parian statuette for Gertrude I Lambeth Platter for Lillie . . I Dozen Majolica butters for Anna 1 Table ornament, Faience, for Anna . 6 Medallions, Lambeth pottery, for Ma< gie and Carrie 2 Dozen cups for the teacher .... £ s. I 12 12 10 I 6 I 18 10 1 12 2 o 2 o BertJui. — 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. 42 JIOIV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUUJJT? 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. TeacJier. — And if every twenty shillings is a pound, how many pounds are here } All. — Four pounds and eight shillings. TeacJier. — 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. TeacJier. — Yes ; we have spent altogether ^12 8s. Now, we w^ill find out how much change we should each have. Mabel had ;£3, and spent £,\ 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 cut, too. JMabel. — Why, I don't know how to begin. /f AV 7 ■///]//' 7 yr. 43 I'cacJicr. — Sec how 1 write it down : — £ s. 2 20 (Isn't £2 20s. the same as £1 ?) 112 £^ «s. Mdbil. — Yes, now [ sec. I sh.ill Ihive £\ 8s. left. (Jh, j^oody ! I can buy some more things. Teacher. — We will «;<) into a lace and dry-^oods store another day ; so you must be prepared at the next lesson t(j slujw what you wish to Ijuy there. Jiertha. - 1 have £^2 8s. left. I c]ian;^^ed one of my /,3 to shillin,ij,s, and to(;k my 12s. frcjm it; so, of course, I had £2 8s. left. Teacher. — Mabel, you may [(o slunv Carrie how to hnd what she will have left ; Ik-rtha may show Alice, and Ma<^,!:^ie may show any one else — Gertrude, if she will. [After all is clear in adding and subtracting, the teacher [;ives them the table of ringlish money, which she has written in full on the blackboard ; takes them throu'^h the process of reduction and mullipliccilion, which slu- finds them quite ready to suggest f(;r tluMnsclves, steiJ by ste[), and finally points out the dozen or half- 44 BO IV SHALL MY CLIILD 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. Louie. — 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 Systehi, 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 ii 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 4<5 now 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? Hattic. — Why, we have bank-bills. TcacJitr. — What makes these of any value, more than any other paper } {SJioiviiig a bank- note.) Read it ; it is an agreement to pay five dollars on demand. {^Fhc bill is examined by all.) Minnie. — Are all bank-bills like this } TeaeJier. — 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 } Aliee. — I think it is a sort of office. Leila. — It's a place to keep monev 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 } TeaeJier. — 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; yon 48 BOJV 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. TeacJier. — Right : get the amount for the third year, — all. Ethel— $29.7754. TeaeJier. — 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 ? Hat tie. — $12.00. Teacher. — And if I keep it two years I pay her ARrrnM/'/r/c. 49 J^ 24. 00 of iiUcrcst. If I keep it six months longer, how nuich shiill I i)ay ? Liila. — Six months is lialf a year ; and if you pay her ^12.00 for a year, you pay ;f^6.oo f(jr half a year. 'readier. — And if I [)ay six eents on a dollar per year, what must I pay i)er month, Helen? Helen. — A month is a twelfth of a year; so you will pay a twelfth of six eents, or half a eent I>er month. Tcaeher. — And if 1 ixiy half a cent a month, what for one day .'* Alice. — (Jne-thirtieth of half a eent, or one- sixtieth of a cent. Teacher. — What part of a mill ? lithel, — One-sixth of a mill. Teaclier. — Now, do ytni see that if you multi- ply the number of years by six eents, of months by half a eent, 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 in'ineipal for the given time at six l^er eent } Leila. — Multiply the interest of one year by the piinei[)al. 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. EtJiel. — You could see them in New York, on Wall Street. TeacJier. — Perhaps they meet in a building called The Exchange, or on a street where most of the ofifices for money are located, where mer- chants and financiers meet, — " on 'change." Where did the old Romans meet } Aliiinie. — In the Forum. Helen. — And in Venice they met on the Rialto. EtJiel. — And in New York they go to Wall Street. TeacJier. — 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 AR/THMETIC. 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 HOJV SHALL MY CHLLD BE TAUGLIT? 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 AKITHME TIC 5 3 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 trom 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 I/O IV SI/ ALL MV CiriLD 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? TcacJicr. — 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. TeaeJier. — 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 wc 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 i\y ; 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 HOW 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. TeacJier. — 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 "dear 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. TcacJicr. — 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. Courtcnaye. — It is very hard. I cannot make a mark on it. Teacher. — Take a piece home. It will write 58 HO IV SHALL MV 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. TeacJier. — 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, NATURE LESSONS. 59 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. Pi^escott. — Rob Moore got an Qgg for our club ; it was green, with brown marks on it ; about an inch and a half long. TeacJiei\ — 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 } 6o HOJV SI/ ALL 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 Jarger, 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 jMonet comes for an hour, the class is easily reconciled to the confinement, which is made so entertaining by the coniedie " Les Ca- prices de Gizelle " — la petite viecJiante avec sa poiipee. 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. 6i As we ramble pleasantly on, we observe the cumulus and cirrus clouds freshening up the sky. 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 Ibve 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 wijlows. 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 02 7/0 IV SIIAIJ. MY CHILD B F. 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 "l 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 in 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 NOW 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 interestino- 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 ^gg 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 and 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 % no now sifAi.L .]/)■ cif/f.n nr. taught? till ho looks like a Knight t)f 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 vvlien the chanire 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 gyninastics 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 temi)ting in their glistening beauty and their won- derful suiTiicstions : and when we reach the Rcliool, after oui- two hours out, \vc will han^i;- the snakes from the window as trophies, and study them up for oui- lesson in the morning. Good- bye ; we have started up many a trail ; we long and mean to follow caeh 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 iti- 68 READIXG TO THE CHILDREiW 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 ;o //()//• si/.ur MY cuii.n i^i: TArcur? \oar. Ro:ulini;- ti> thoiu in st^nio such \\\n' as I ha\o ilcscriboJ ; writini; on tho board a schotlulc ol nan\os anil dat os as tho\- occiinwl in the iwul- ini;-. in ot\lor to nuiko tho outline clear before their eves ; tracing; the localities and nunenients on the map; reailini; verbatim passai;es Irom the lalis- iHiii! also, showing" with it the eni;ra\ ini;s trom a rare illustrated edition ol" Scott, and with {pictures and a little ot the text I'rom liuin/iiw — 1 t'ound at the close of the session, that in the i;low ol the whole theme upon the clear mirror of their minds. thev had received a comiM-ehensive as well as a particular knowlcdi^e of the subject, a pertectly orderlv outline of its facts, a vivid apprehension of its jnn"}H^se, philosophv. 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 dailv lessons of common book-routine to accomi^lish what we did in this reading- ; and I believe the pupils will have a nuMC enduring remembrance ot the history, and a stronger desire to inform themsehes more tull_\- upi>n it. and to re\-ive whatever escapes their memories, than thev would have atter the usual method of stud v. READING V'O 77//': c// / /J)/a-:N. /I Ph(tair/is Lives vvc read much in connection with the study of ancient history ; it is a wonder- ful mine of deHght, 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 72 J/OIV SHALL MY CLLLLD BE TAUCIir? my own thought and flow of my own expression and clog- the ways which* run from my mind to theirs. It seems ahiiost 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 hivi, 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 yEschylus, 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 //OU- SHALL MY CIIILP H LI TAl'CHT? action, form, look, antl 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? lie 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 ! Me 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 wdiat we have not the means of hearing or seeing. If I am a cosmopoli- tan, need I consult the geography t 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 oin- 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 teachinfr ? It was too vital 7<^) //oir s/iAi I. .!/]■ ruu.n />/■ /•.ircz/T? and incisive a nialtcr to clothe with anotlicr man's ]an<;iKi<;c, or be impaitcd thi()U_L;h any written nie(h'iiin. He said, "Let there 1k' ! " and thei-e was. Tiaily it led us t hirst ini;- and hun_i;eiini;- to every source of knowledge, — books were its tiabutarics, and so was evervthin<;- wherein lay food for the insatiate brain stirred by his touch. : but the <;reat stream, — the deep river of his inlluence, was an out (lowing; of his own personal- ity and his own inspiration, and created scdiolars and noble souls. Oral lessons ! they slunild come \vou\ the over- llowini;- beaker, not fiom the scanty cup. If mechanical, what an utter failuie they become! They must be so spontaneous as to awaken an interest in every pupil, so well prcparetl for as to satisfy tlu^ aioused attention ; so rcj^lete as to tempt aiul reward all mental cravini; ; so SUL;-L;estive as to start innumerable activities in tlie listenini;- brain; and so force! ul and inspiring; as to dri\-e to inves- ti^^ation, research, and stud\-, b\' every ax'ailable means. They should be mixed with every recita- tion, — an inliltration of suidi^ht oxer ex'cix^ path ot knowK\li;e, shoiteniuL;" and illuminatini'; the roail, and yet re\'ealin<;- an inlinite \ista. OKA I, LESSONS. 77 ORAI, I.l'.SSON ON IMKDS. Teacher. — Do you know tlint, diirini;- this month a L;rc;it inuUitudc will conic \\\> licrc from tlic South, to spend the sprin-- and summci? \Vc shall soon sec lari;c and attractive parties of trav- ellers arrivini;- and settling themselves in their summci- homes. ScJiolars. — Who arc they, and what arc they coming for? Teacher. — You must try to guess ; they do not come by railroad or stcand)oat, although they travel as fast. Tliey arc coming now in such tr()o])S that there will soon 1)C a ndllion of them in Massachusetts. Louie. — A milhon ! What shall wc do .^ Hierc will not be room enough for them, nor enough to cat. TcaeJier. — Oh, there arc 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 foi" them in little scaled cans which they know how to open, hiddc^n in the places where they resort. 1 saw a crowd of them yesterday, /N //('// sii.ii I Mv cm in /.•/• '/•.//•(////•; (Ii'cssimI in hiowii ;iinl dull icd, opciiiii- som/ of llu' cMiis ;m(l I'iiliiiv, llu- pn-soi \'cil liuils, ;iihI tlu'V IkkI ires ;iii(l lioslii)!-, with llicii drsscil, l.iid oiil on (.•K'L;;inl 1\ spi cid t,d)li's, sii| i| mm 1 rd .nid tcslooncd 1)\' ever;;! I'rns, s|»iniH' houvjis, ;ind lii hou'dis, ;ind llu'\ li.id (hops ol l);ds;iin ;ind spirN' L;unis loi lluMi' conloil ions. lurtha. W'hv, Mis. ! \vli;it \\\v yon \\\\V- '\\\i\ id)oul } /((it/iir. I'm lalkin;', ;d>onl tlu^ dcliiditfnl (■t)inp;in\' nhonl lo \isit ns Ironi tlir Sonlli. TlicN' know niou-.d)onl sonir llnni^s in Nalnic line lli.m we k\'.\ .ind tho\' ;iir ;dl nioii' or K'ss niusirnl. and will L;i\'c' ns (piili" ;i i'oiutiI i'\im\' niorninv, ;nid Hii;hl, .ind nioii' or U'ss thionuji in;in\' d.i\s ot ihr spring; ;ind sninnu'i". Cnrrir. I think I know. IM.iy 1 tell } IttU'litT. — Not (piito \Tt ; hnl \'oii ni;i\- t;dk ;d>ont ihrni. wilhont tollin:',. I )o \(M1 know liow t hoii honsi's mv hnilt } itirrit. - Sonu' ol tluMn ;irc^ ni;ido ol mud ;ni(l sticks and sli.iw and hair. /t'di/iif. — 1 )o Non know what tlu*\ likr best lo cat ? i'(irri(\ Worms. {/ /.'/■; tauciit? .'iikI spoil in'iii l\' ;ill ()( oiiis ; iiiid in llu' l;ill tluy l)iti" lilt' lipr ;i|)i)K'S iiiid |»c:ii"s. 'rrncJuy. 'I'liic ; hiil, lor ;ill tlml, llu'\' Ix-iidit llu' fiiniu'i imicli iiion' lli;iii llu'\' iiijiiit' liim. 'I'lu'V (■;i( up iii)'ii;iils ol di'sl nut i\'i' woiiiis iind ciitcipil- l;irs ;ind l)ii!',s whicli would spoil luucli \'i'!',t't;il ion and 1 1 nil. Do \\\v\ i isc rai h\ or laic, in I he mo in in_<; ? luitliii. — Oil, very carh'. I think Ihcy inust ^'.('1 up ht'forc dayli",ht, lof llu'\' hcidii to siii;^ just wluai a liltir lainl sticak ol dawn coiius thioiii;!! llir window. '/'(•(ul/ii: — 'V\\vy art' up by lialf-pasl three. Who can (Use i ihe their soni;' .'' Miibi'I. I know pisl liow it ;;oi's. It is a little sad at ni^hl, but very inusieal, I think. Tiihlhr. I am L;lad \'ou lia\'e iiotieed it. lias any oiu> lieaid their eall to their mates, or 1 heir chirp to 1 he yoiin"; ones } .'l/,ii^j^/i\ \'i's, indeed; when llie\' try to <;"et the N'ounj;' ones to Ih', tlu'\' t liiip all the time. /■'///i/. In the idnilHH\s, on our street, you hear them all ^\A\ Ion;',, in June, and it S(»unds like a jolU chatter. I\\ulur. — riicii lamily name is Thiiish. They OKAI, I I'.SSOh'S. 85 arc coiniiii; loward us now, llyiu!; (|iiitr lii.L;li, in merry coiiipanics, lioiii llu- Soiilli. Soon llu- lUiic- biids will sliiit, ;m(l llv si ill hi,L;lu'i-, sin_L;iii.L; loudly and tliarly on llu- wini;, --ihc [)ic'ludo ol \\\c. spiinu, lo llu' snowd)ound Noilli. VVaUh tor him, and It'll nic ol his size, his color, and his ii.d)ils, when you see him. luit/id. \ saw a whole llo(d< of (hem alii;hl on the telegraph-wire and ienci's and Irees around, as J was drivin*;' yesteiday on I he Aeuslinel load. 'Idiey iliil lo(jk lovely ; so blue, and sueh a pietty blue! TcacJifr. - 'I'liey want some luc^e holes, oi" bii'd- houscs, or boxes, to livt: in. I hope tlu-y will lind them and <;-et sheltered soon, lor we shall have some bitter cold days yet. Is the lUuebiid's e-g- blue? Helen. — Yes, Hglit blue, sometimes while. I will brin<;" one to-moriow. Tcaclirr. Now, foi- a while, the Hluebiid must cat bciaies ; but later, 1)U.l;s and beetles. It sprin<;'S liom the lwi<^ or pi-ich, and snaps u|) the Hyiui;" insect in the aii", oi" the bei:tK' and ^lassho])- pei- fioin the glass. lias it any eoloi but blue about it ? 86 HOW SI/ALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? 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. 8/ 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 certam flight, In the long way that I must tread alone Will lead my steps aright." ORAL LESSONS IN BOTANY. I. TeacJier. — 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 S8 NOJV SHALL MV CHILD BE 7\4UGHT? 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. TeacJicr. — 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 — opposite or alternate t 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. 7>c?r/'ry'. - 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 stem. 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. TeacJier. — 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 90 //()//' SHALL J/]' CLLLLD LU-] 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- //(>//■ S//.U / MY cmi.n />•/•; 'J'al'cht^ saw iMT a trro lu>ri/iMUall\-. on its trunk \-ini soo the rini;s all ai-oinul llio ocnlro quite plainh'. In this wav, one can toll how nianv years oUI a tree is. Holly. — Will all those Inuls i;ro\v and open ? Tt'dc/irr. — Terhaps not. Some nia\" die and fall oii, if the sun dcH\^n't shine direetlv o\\ them. The tVost may eome and kill some, or a little worm o\- insect may eat others. The leayes will not probably bo quite as rei;ular and many on the twig" as these little buds. Now, <\o \o\\ want a hartl woid belore }'ou go .^ I^xOi^rnoKS is the word. This is an exogencurs stem ; it grows by atUling e\er\- \ear to the outside ot' the stem. So (.lo all our trees ; but the Talm-tree or a corn-stalk or a cane, and others, grow h\ adding to the inside of the stem, which looks like a large bundle of fibres, new tibi'cs or threacks each \ear. The\' are rn- Joi^rnous stems. luulogenous stems ha\"e no branches, but all their leaf-stems come cnit at the top of the stalk, l^xogenous stems haye a pith or scU't {xirt. of cells in the middle. woihI around it, and bark (Hitside, and the\" hax'c man\ blanches, a new set e\er\- \ear on the whole length of the stem. ORAL /.r.ssoxs. 93 You have now Icanicd the i)cciiHaritics of the P)ireli-steiTi, the arran;;enient of buds in three (hf- ferent ways upon (Hfferent i)lants, the gnjwth of the bud just above the sear of tlie last year's growth, the way in whicli 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. Iking 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 l^irch leaf-buds, and our Maple flower-buds, anrl 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. 11. TcacJier. — 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 i)arts do the work of clim])ing for the plant, to lift it into the warmth and light. Some of the climbers you know 94 now 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. Bei'lha. — They have little roots which go into the cracks. TcacJier. — Where do those rootlets come from t EtJieL — 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 } Teacher. — 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 I/O IV SHALL MY CI/LLD 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. 97 not got hold! they are bent right up, and have turned a square corner. Teacher. — Th^X is to push the pretty, shield- 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. Heleji. — Do just come to see this lovely vine ; what is it } Teacher. — It is called Campsidunn Filicifolinm. It has no common name. I admire it, it is so delicately beautiful. What does it remind you of, Hattie t Hattie. — I have seen ferns which look like it. Its leaf is more finished and elegant, I think ; don't you, Mrs. H. t 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 98 I/O IV SHALL A/V CHILD BE TAUGHT? itself in. Look at this fine, tapering point of the stem reaching out from the hne where it cUmbs ; 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. TcacJier. — 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, no ; 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. lOO JJOir SJJALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? III. TcacJicr. — We spoke of the Birch-tree storing up its nourishment for the early leaf-buds, in the inner bark. Nearh' all plants save food in some of their parts for the next year's i;ro\vth. This is what seems to me a proof of God's presence in it and care for it, — the rrovidcucc 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. TcacJicr. — 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. JMabcI. — 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. lOI 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. TeacJicr. — 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 vvith the Hyacinth t 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 liow as they thickened and packed themselves at the base, the upper part shrivelled and fell off. I have a bulb 102 J/0 IF 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 ? TeacJier. — 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 cabbao'e has stored it in the o leaves. Is it a bulb .^ Teachers -^ 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. IO3 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 jays 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 I04 HOJV 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. IO5 Teacher. — Those who read in the Fairy Land of Science last term can tell us. Ethel. — 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- I06 NO IV SHALL MV CLLLLD 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. TeacJier. — Can you guess, then, which catkin has the pollen, and which the stigma or ovary, and, therefore, the seed } Lo2iie. — The flowery catkin has the pollen, and the other the seed, I should think. TeacJier. — Have you ever seen the seed-catkin all covered with down 1 Several. — No ; that is green without the fuzz. Others. — Yes ; later the seed-catkin is covered wdth 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 .? EtJiel. — Is it so that the wind will blow the seeds about ? ORAL LESSONS. IO7 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 lOS //()//- SHALL MY CLLILD BE TAUGHT? Stigma, ami when the pollen from the catkins falls, it is received by them and carried to the ovar\'. making the seed of the .Acorn. Look, now, at these Horse-chestnut blossoms. Mxamine 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. TcacJicr. — You all are right. Some of the flow- ers have both pollen and ovary ; some have onlv 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. TcacJicr. — And how is it with the early Pussy Willow catkins } L.ouic. — They are staminate, and the green ones pistillate. TcacJicr. — The Maple-tree which bears the staminate flowers ? ORAL LESSONS. IO9 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 no now 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 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. TeacJier. — 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 resfister. TeacJier. — 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. 113 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 dovvn 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 NO IV SHALL MV CHILD BE TAUGHT? when she tried to lift that boat, what could you have done to help her ? Pj'cscott. — 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. TcacJiei'. — 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. TeacJicr. — 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. 1 15 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. TeacJier. — Suppose I can't get the horse up in- to the loft very well 1 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 girl, and 1 1 6 j/ow sj/.-i / /. j/y i mi. n be ta i ^cit t t lor ovorv ono who wants to aoooiiiplish inuoh in the world. II. Teacher, — Hero is tho ash-cart. chiUh-on ; thoro aio throe barrels tull ot ashos. 'l1io\- will bo hoa\\- (or tho man to lift. Preseott. — I know how ho will i;ot thorn \\\^. He will take tho baok-board ont, and loan it up ai^ainst the oart and roll tho barrel up. Teddy. — Then all tho ashes will fall out. Freseott. — Well, if tho\' woio tlour barrels, he could roll them up. Teih'/ier. — Su[)poso thov wore tlour-bairols, whv would he roll them ui^ ? Willie. — It isn't so hanl \o lift them. Teiie/ier. — The board partlv supports iIvmu ; it is a machine ; it makes it easier to ovoroomo »;ravitation. and adds to tho torco o[ tho man. That board, or anxthim;- which i;i\os a slant iui; surfvico ou which a weight is raised, is an iiteliued flaue. The moaniui;- of th.o name is clear. Did M>n over see a man olu->p wood, and then put a wedge like this (^>) in tho split, and dii\-o it in to complete the separalion of the wood ? /'A'/MAA'V cr.ASS IN PJ/YSICS. H/ Mad^e. ■ — Is that a machine ? Teacher. — What is each V)\\'^ side of it ? Ethel. — An inclined plane. V'eacher. — The wed^e is a machine, then, — a double inclined plane. Will it spht the wood across, as you mi;:^ht 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. leachcr. — Is there any inclined plane about it .' l\'ddy. — 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 werlge used for besirles splitting.^ You cannot tell. iJid you ever see men raising a building or a ship } Ma^^ic. — I .saw them launch a ship, and they hammered in under it to lift it. Were they driv- ing w('dges } Teacher. — Yes ; they drive great wedges in unrler the keel ; if they drive a small one at first, thi'n they can drive in a larger one afterward.s, and so raise the ship quite off the ways to launch Il8 HO IV SHALL MY CHLLD BE TAUGHT? 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. TcacJier. — 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. TeacJier. — 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 strono-er force of drivins; is used a^ain. If you use force to put a thing in motion, when does it stop t PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. UQ Madge. — When anything stops it. Teacher. — What stops a ball after it is thrown ? Teddy. — It falls clown. 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. — T\\'^\, i"^ 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. 1-0 now SUM 1 MY cm ID BK TACCirr? If a IhhIv moves very swiftly througli the air, it will at last take Ihv. TciLiy. - — Rockets will. l\iU'Jicr. — Rockets arc set on fire before tlicy begin to move ; but meteors or shootini;-stars aie great btnlies of metal which are sent spinning throngh the earth's atnu^sphcre bv the great force of gravitation, and they move so far anil so swiftly that they take fire by friction with the air, anil burn anil melt as thev whi/z bv, until they fall to the earth, and cool to look like a great mass of iron-ore. \W^ see them Hashing along the sky some nights, ami I have even heard them whizz, b^riction has to be taken into account, in considering the elfect of an\' application of force. It stops and it holds. It makes heat and tlame and electricit\'. It is gieater in proportion to the roughness of the substances it affects. I was in a train of cars once when the\' had to sttip be- cause the wheels had grown so hot. Prcscott. — They ought to have oiled them more, and then it wouKl not have happeneil. Teacher. — The oil wouKl have made the sur- faces smoother, so that the friction wouUl have been much less. Do you know how very much J'h'IAfANY CLASS IN PI/YSfCS. 121 oil is used to make surfaces smooth and lessen friction ? Carrie. — Machinery has to be oil(,'d very often, to i^o smoothly. I saw a man climbiii;^ ut tho par- tiolos o[ \v:itor pnsh apart as oasih' as tho\' hold tOL;othor. And how is it with air? Poos tluit pnsh ajxnt nioro oasih' or hold nioio tiiinh' lo- gothor than water ' Ttddv. — It pnshos apart nu^ro easily. y\'ih'//n\ — \'es ; it tills e\er\ thini;", no matter what its shape or how lai-i;e. Its partieles sepa- rate as lar as tliex' ean from eaeh other. Now, as to water. \o\\ all ha\e huieets in \-onr luuises ; where tloes the water that rnns irom them start ? Piwwott. — 1 know ; Irom the l\eser\oir ; ami it is junnped there Irom a ponti tnrther oil. It runs through pi[)es in the streets and houses. /\iU'/irr. — lla\e \ou e\er known whether the Reservoir is built \\\) hi^h ov tlui;- iltnvn tleep ? Li/y. — My unelc })hinned it, and it is a high building. J'A'/MAA'V C/.AS.S I\ Pf/VS/CS. 125 l\'aclu'r. — It has lo In; hi;^h. 1 will show you with this bent <;luss tul)c. 1 (hp this end in the water, and now look and tell nie how hi;^h it comes \\\) in the otlier side of the tube. Holly. — Nearly as high as the top of the eup. TeacJicr. — Water will run as high and no higher than it was where it starterl. Now, some of the houses in t(jwn are uj) ow 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 higli as that. Prcscott. — At Teddy's they have a tank up in the attic ; 1 tlvrnght that was so that the water vvoidd 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 fioni the roof, 1 su[)pose. JJo you use it now, Teddy } 'j'cddy. — 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 ahjng by a string, as he coiddn't use the force of the water to push it. How do you get your boat along in the river.'* 126 J/0]]' SI/. U.I. .!/)• Cllll.n BE TAUCIITl j\Iadi:;i\ — 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? ///)'. — The water. P resect t. — No ; the oar. Madi^r. — Wh\', 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 jnishing 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. 12/ Prcscott. — 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. Teaeher. — Yes, you must notice that when you go off in her, this summer. How is it with the propeller } Who knovv^s .^ 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 sliowed 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 //()//' SI/A I. L MY CHILD BE TAUCIIT? it. But liore is soniothini;" else. This towel has one end only in the water ; this sponj;e toiiehes the wet table onl\' on its under side ; does all the rest of it remain dr)-.'* 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 diseovered the towel thrown over with one end in the basin where there was some water, and the other end dripping- over th5 edge of the sink. How was that } Ti'ddv. — Ihe 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 si-)onge, 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. Mado'c. — I know it docs in our chain-pump. I draw the chain up, ami 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. I 29 force of the water, its disposition to fc^llovv 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. — I^efore the next lesson, I want you to think of some other forces of water, and how they are used. Periiaps you can discover or invent something. Holly. — Do you believe we can '^. TeacJier. — 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 ? 130 HOW SHALL A/y CIILLD BE TAUGHT? Holly — I make myself. Maggie. — You told us in Physiology that the will is carried from the brain to the muscles bv 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. TeacJicr. — 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 1 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, cr draws my sled. Teacher. — Of what advanta^re is it to make the PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSICS. I3I 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 sfreat deal faster with the wheel. I o 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. Caii'ie. — 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 mornino: to o'et 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. 13- now SUM L MY C/n/n />•/•; TAUCIfT? Sylvia. — In Si)uth America, the l)c;uiliful littlc llamas carry the loatls down the nunmlains. . Holly. — In llic hot ciumtrics, tlicy use elephants to carry loads. Pirscott. — In the desert, camels. Teacher. — Can man c(Mitrol all these ani- mals, ami make them do his \v\)rk, \vitluuit trt)uble } Holly. — No'm ; they have to be trained. Prcscott. — They have hanl work to train them, too, and they have to tame them tirst. Teacher. — Do vou think man will ever have un- der his control all animals, — the wild aninials, — so that thev will do his woik } Maggie. — rerhai>s so. Do you think so } Teacher. — I think it possible in the future; for man is made as the head and kini;- of all the forces of the earth, to control and subdue them. lie lias to learn to make the most of his (^\\w forces by trainini;- his bodv and mind, and then he can add to this power of his own the j^ower of other animals which he tames and trains ; because God made man to have dominicMi over all creatures of the earth, to do his bidding. PRIMARY CLASS IN I'l/VSICS. 133 V. 7\'aclicr. — Prcscf^tt, sec how the gutters run to-day ; the snow is thawing fast. JJo you think of any work ycni can make that swift stream do ? Prescotl. — I see it pusli a good deal of slush along itself; it is doing its own work. I'J/icl. — Oil, Mrs. Hopkins, don't you remem- ber all that you read to us out of the J'\iiry Land of Science, about tlie 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 slunild ])ut 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 lumi)s 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 } Prescotl. — 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 Noir SHALL my cl/lll:> bl: 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. EiJicl. — 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 down through all the branches laid upon the frames below and leave salt upon them. Mamma ex- plained it to me one day. EditJi. — I can make a windmill myself. TeacJur. — 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. I 35 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 him. CHAPTER XL PRIMARY CLASS IN PIlYSIOLOr.Y. I. AftI'.r an exercise in calistlicnics, the six youn<^cst pujiils remain standing". l\iiicJu'r. — What nice twisting Ixxlies you have, just like inclia-rul)l)er ! Is lliat wliat you are made of ? All (laui;hin<;-). — No ; we're made of flesh. l\'aclicr. — How do you keep up straight, then ? l^rcscott. — Wc have hones. TcacJur. — Any hones like tliis (showing a fish- spine) ? Holly. — No ; I guess not. Teacher.- — When you undress to-night, feel U]) and down your hack, and tell what you feel. You may feel of each other now, gently. Madge, what do you feel on Lily's haek 1 Mad^^c. — Knohs, all in a row. Lily. — So do J, on Madge's back. 136 PRIMARY CLASS IN PIIVS/OLOCY. 137 Holly. — It ;j,'r)cs nil iij) aiul down my back. Teacher, — You may as well call it your ?jack- bonc. It is somcthiri':^ like this of a fish. J^rcscoti. — What makes the knobs? I'caclicr. — Loolc at this. Is it one bone ? Lily. — No ; it is a i^oorl many little ones. Teacher. — You can count the knol)s on your back to-ni^ht. \'ou shr)uhl find twenty-five. ICach is a little bone with jjoints stickin;^ out around it, and a hole in the middle, throu;(h which a soft cord runs. So your backljone is really twenty- four small bones, like beads strun;; on a string, and each has hcjoks wiLh which it hohls on to the other, as they are all cauc^ht tf);.jether. (Show a vertebra.) Now all benrl over, anrl then back, very far and fast, back and forth, back anrl forth. Do you hear .all those little bones rattle or crack as they move, and tlie corrl strain .^ All. — Nfj, no; they don't make a bit of noise. Teacher. — Isn't that funny .■* One would tln'nk they wouM all ^o creak, creak. If they did, what should \ou tliink would cure it .-^ Lotlie. — I should think they would be oiled. Prc^cott. — ! should put somethin;^ soft between them. 138 HO IV SHALL MY CLILLD BE TAUGLIT? Teddy. — How is it fixed ? Teacher. — Why, God thought just as you do, and lie 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 nnder your arms down to your waist. Do you feel the bones .-* Lily. — I feel bars going in a ring just like hoops. Holly. — So do I. TeacJier. — 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. 1 39 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 .? ^//- — Yes, very hard ; it is all bone. TeacJier. — The bone of your head is called the skull. It is pieced together in little jagged seams I40 I/Oir SHAI.J. MY CHJI.D BE TAUCIIT? in these places, — here, and here, and here. It ir> 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. 11. TcacJicr. — 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. TcacJicr. — Just like this [illustration by draw- ing a model] ; these lioops join the bone in front, the breastbone, and the backbone behind. See, are they separate from the backbone } PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. H^ lily, — No, they are paits of the little, spine- bones. 7>^rr//6'r. — 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 crrow 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. — Y^^\'i\ and I feel something push down and swell out in front. Is that a bone 1 Teacher.— AW 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 142 HO IV SI/ ALL MY CHILD BL 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. Teaclier. — Can you stop the hammer.'* AIL — We cannot ; it goes right along. TtacJicr. — 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 you 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 w^rist, and feel the little hammer there. Lottie. — That's where the doctor feels my pulse. TcacJicr. — To see how your heart is beating, or how regularly and truly all the machinery is going. There is something else in the chest, too, 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 IX PUVSIOLOGY. 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 within the chest, 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 degs, 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 .'' TeacJier. — 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 J/OJr SHALL MY CHILD 1< F. TArCUTf Teddy. — SoniothinL; like chalk. Teacher. — Vos. aiul thov u an\- oppor- tiinit\- to look at \our own bones, to soo whether they are like this ? EtfuL — 1 hojK^ not : not unless we cut our tlesh. 1 eaeJier. — Preseott e.inie in from recess \ ester- day, with cMie of his bones in his hand. Prescott. — 0\\, my old tooth! I threw it away. J/dt/i^e. — Are our teeth bones ? Teacher. — Well, what C\o yow think? A//. — Oh. yes. thev are. Lily. — Hut the\- are \er\ snu^oth. Teac/icr. — rhe\- are ihessed uj> a little to slnnv, with a nice, hard polish lui the outside, called the cfuufie/y which prefects the bone. 111. Teacher. — As you i^o thrcnii;h \ouv calisthenics I cannot helj^ thinkini; how easih' and rapidh Nini can bend \our arms. \our wrists. \ouv tinkers, ^■our knees and ankles. 1 low is that. ]Madue ? will yoar bones bend an\ where ? J'KIMAKY CLASS /\ ru VSJO/.oC V. '45 Madge. — No, iMj ; my arms will hcii'l only at the* elbows. 1 itidicr. — I low //<>//' SUM I Mv ciiii n /.•/•; i'.n\:iiTf SCO il plaiiil)' ;is \(Ui jnish l);u"k ihc arm at tlic sliDuKliM-. 'lluMi' is a hoiu* plaiiiK' seen also on the lionl ol the iu\k, called the eollar-lione. These two ])oiK\s join at the shoulder, ant! tluar unitc>d iHl,i;es lorni the enp. Th.e collar hone is lastcaied lo the hreast hone, ami the shouldei -hlade to the iKiekhone. C'an n'ou all ieid these hones plainly ? -•///. — \\\s, \'ei\' ]>lainlv. Tiiltiy. — Stan broke his eollar-bone one day, and it mended with a eraek in it. I\iU-//i-r. — It ouj;ht to lun-e mended belter than that. Wasn't it well fitted together? J\/(io-i^it\ — Well, l\Irs. 11., he tried to kiek foot- ball lu^iore il was cpiite well, and lu' lell down and bioke it aL;ain. Iciuhi-r. — lie t)U!j,ht to ha\'e ki^pt still until it was Inndv knit toL;ether. Pmt it isn't a \ery severe thin;; to break the eollai-bone ; not at all like breakini; owe ot the lari;e bones. \ o\\ see jiow small it is. Now all see how many wa)'s you can move the elbow. Lottie. — C)nl\' up and down. 'J'iih'//iT. — What kind ol a jcunt will move onl\' one wav ? I'lv the door. What is thai which makes il swiuLi back and lorth '^ /'/s /.]/.! h-)- ('/,Ass /x ri/vs/oLocY. 147 rrcscoll — IL is cL liiii;^c. Is LIkiL the vviiy oiii" cl])ows arc made ? 'readier. — Yes; very much. The elbow and fiiij^^ers liavc hin,i;e-joiiits. iVfakc them all j^o. You know we have- to oil liin;^es occasionally, so our joints are constantly oiled frf)ni little bags near them, which s(|uee/e out oil when the joint works. What other joint in your body is a hinge- joint ? Carrie. — My knee, I third<. Teacher. — Does youi" knee fc:t;] like your ell)r)W.'* Madj^e. — No; my knee is fiat and my elbow pointed. TeacJier. — The joint of the knee is covered by a little flat i)one to ])rotect 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. J^rescott. — 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 woik } Teddy. — It goes ui) and down. Teacher. — Now try your toes. Can you move them like fingers .'* 14*"^ now SUM I MY cim i^ />/■: /'.u'ci/y? J'j/it/. -' 0\\\\ A lilllr; ImiI wluMi in\' loot is hare 1 can (\o il pn-n \- w ell. C(irrii\ — \\\\h\ mows Ikm's all loiiiul ami sticks t luMu all apart. DiJilitT. — 1 luMicI of a man wlio conlil sew and knit with liis toes, and o\ one who eould pki\' on the piano with his. jVdi/i^r. — Why eonUl he? TcacJicr. — lie had juaetiseil it a i;-ood (V-a\, be- t\uise he had no arms. II we praelisc^l moxini;' our toes we eouKI kV'' nuieh moii^ with them than we tliiid-v. .\n\- joint or otiiei" pait ol the bod\' will work more lVeel\- h\- exereisin^; il. W'hatex'er we ti\' to make the biHl\' k\o, it will eome to do in time ; it will obe\ onr will if we train it. Now tr\' \our wiisls and ankles. Ah)\e them every wa)- you can. Allies. — Wdu', the\- will «;■(> an\' way \'ou U\. liiuJur. — ThcN' are (piite ditlerent trom the other ji)ints. '!^d^e (^tl \ann" I'ound i;'old beatls, (lertrnde, antl the\- will ndl k^w each olhei" an\- wa\' : I jHit them in two rows and see how thcN' may turn about Tlu^ wrist and ankle hax'c two rows of little bones, four in a row, upon which the hauil tnins; the mo\ement is easier and more I'KIM.IKV (l.ASS l.\ rHYSIOI.OdV. \/\() v;iricMl tli;m Liu- bull .iiid cui]) joints. VVluMi Loiiic plays on llu' piano sec how many \va)'s and how (juickly she can throw, tnin, or twist tlu- hand. It is the smooth rows ol little hoiu-s that do it. It is much vv()i"sc to l)reak the wiist or ;inkle than the collar-bone, and takes a Ion- tinu- to heal the bfcak and make the joint stioni; a_L;ain. Ma^i^ic. — Yes ; it is a yeai- since mamma broke her ankle, and it isn't strong" yet. 'J\'iU'lu'r. — He very careful of the ankle and wrist — and of the knee, too. When tluise joints are liurt, some trouble is ai)t to ocean", because; they are haidei' to reach than some of the otlu'i* joints. The socket at the hip is formt'd by the nieetin<;' of two stron^i;- lar^^e bones which support the body. Your backbone is like many hin<;e- joints ; your shouhUas and hips are l)all and socket joints ; your elbows and knees, as well as the joints of your lin;j,('rs and toes, are hin^e- joints, and your wrists and ankles are j'ollinjj^ joints. Now can you all repeat this.'' All repeat it correctly, ;ind then all the class ai'c allowed to try moving; as many of their joints at once and as rapidly as they can, which cauls the lesson. iSi> //(>//■ A7/.///. .1/) cnii.n IU-: rM'ciii't' TV. 'I'lii' ol.iss .shouM hr iillowrd tn si'(^ ;i in;iiiikin (liiiin:; ihr sliul\ ol tlir l)()nrs, ,uul hr Ird lo ol)- scrv\" .ill IIk' l)i)iu"s .iiul joinls i-.iirliill\. '/t'(U'/trr. — W'r h.i\i" KMinril wh.il llu- li.iim' wiuk ol Ihr l>(>il\' is, ami lh>\v its ditliMi'nl pails aio jiuiud t(\!',rtlua lor oui roiuaMruMui'. 1 )o )t)U t liiiik il like" A\\\ olluM skrK'ton ? l\ti\iv. - Il is iiKulr sDiiuM liin;-, likr a monki'v's. /'///. — Il is likr animals, a j'.ooii iUmI. /tiu/it'r. — Si) il is, lull il slamls iipi ii'.ht , ami has Iwoaims iiisU\ul i>l Iwo toirK":;s. NrxiMliu'- Irss, il is i>n llu- samr i>lan as ihal ol all tom- h>i)U"tl animals; \i>ii ran rasilv srr [\w likiMioss aihl llu" Jiitruiui'. riir k>n;', rliain ol bonrs in llu' bark, thr spino, is \\w sanu\ ami ;;i\rs a name lo all animals llial ha\'o il ; ihow with man, arc ralU-il llu" r<'//('/i/ti/ naim- ol cacIx lilllo bono ol 1 ho spintN ■.-'(VA ■/'/od to tbc rest of its body, ov send any messaL;e to otber jnirts of tbc bod\', sneb as a mcssai;c to tbc arm to nioyo, or to tbc feet to walk? Lotfir. — \'ou told us ibcre were a tbousand tclcgTapbs to eair\- messaL;es back and fortb all oyer tlie body. ri(h//i'r. — \'es, tbcsc arc tbc ner\"es. Tbc brain and tbc spinal ci^ixl. ami tbc nciN'cs arc all one, like a \'oo{ and stem ami brancbes. All t0i;"ctbcr tbc\' luakc up tbc nei\-ous s)stcm. I \ycnt into a Sur>;ieal Museum once, and in a L;lass case T saw an exact rcprcsentaticui oi tbc neryous system ol a man b\- ilseU, separate^l Iroiu all otber parts ot tbc bod\', as il it bad been drawn out and bum;" on a \\ook by>tbe brain ; dmvn Iroiu tbc base / 'A' IMA A' Y ( 'I. A SS /, V / 7/ WS/O/aX / \ ' '57 of the brain behind hun^" the spinal coid, and Iroin it hun<;- the prineipal nerves of the aims and lei;s, with all the hundreds of little thread nerves i un- nin<^- from every i)art of it. It was a eurious look- ing; thing. Ti'iidy. — What color was it ? Teacher. -- If you eould look inside; your skull, your engine-room, you would hnd it packed (|uite close with soft gray coils an. Maggie. — When a man is crazy, is it out of order } 15^"^ //(>//■ S//AL/. MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? Trac/iir. — Vcs, aiul ilo \oii not think lh>U is almost the worst thin^;" that oouUl hapjuMi to us. that our mind should be out ot order, as \vc sav, when the mind cannot control the brain? Jnrih'/. — Oh, yes ; for then we mii;ht kill our- selves or somebody else. Tfac/ur. — Sometimes the brain is hurt, ov siek, andi that is often tatal, — always yer\- hard to cure. If a man falls and eraeks his skull aiul knocks a piece ot it against the brain, or wcninds or in- tiames the brain ; or if he uses or excites the brain too much, so that it becomes too tired, it is a verN' serious matter, and \er\' hard to cure ; but if it is the connection between the mind and the brain that is affected, then it is callctl insanity, an^l the man is like a workman in rt factory whose eni;ine is all out of order, and nothiuL; can be relied upon ; his machiner)- may kill him, ant! e\er\thini;- may go contrary to the rule. Should \ou be careful of this engine .'' J^jYSLOtt. — Xcvy ; but how ? TcacJtcr. — \)i> what keeps the whole bmly healthful ; the brain is a jxirt of the both' ; 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 /A' /'// VS/OLOG V. 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 l6o I/Oir SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGLLT? habit of deciding questions certainly and posi- tively, and your head will gradually grow higher here. Carrie. — Oh, how fininy ! can I make xwy head different ? Teacher. — I do not promise that, but people who study much about it sa}' 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 pujiils, and interests them very 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 car 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. Iwerything 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 ? i^>2 //(ur .S7/.I/ / 1/r ciiiin /.'/•; rAcn;//'/'/ A/Jiv. It is A L;rapc. 1 taste it. Ti'dr/irr. Once a little i;irl had the scarlet l"e\ei-, aihl il destioNeil her sii;ht, luMiiuL;, smell, and tastc\ and it seemed as il slu' eenld never ha\e an.\' \\a\' o\ knewini; er doim; tn enjoNini; an\thini;. Iler bod\' seemed like a elese-shut prisiMi tiM her mind. Hnt theie \\\is ene \va\' Kdt epen, and a. i^mul, wise man took ih.it \va\', and thronL;h it tani;ht hei- as nuieh as man\' a person leatns throuL;h ever\- sense oi ;i perleel ho(\\. She is hiL;hlv edneated nmv. and has li\ed .i hai>p\- and nselnl lile. What w.is th;it one \\.i\ lelt to her to lind (Mil abont ontside thin^^s? 7\-(/(/j'. — She conld leel ol things. 7](h//t'/: — Now n.nne all these ways Irom the brain to the ontside world. .///. — 1\) SCO, to heon what is bii)nL;ht ti> il. VUc c\c is tonehed b\' w;i\es o{ lii;ht, the eai' b\- waxes oi sonnil, tiie nostiil b\ peiinme, the t(Mii;ne b\- lla\-or. the skin b\' what is in cc^ntact with it. All these J'h'/MAh'Y CLASS IX /'// VS/OLOC V. iGt, parts /cW, and the brain takes knowledge of what is felt. Name the oro-az/s of sense. All. — The eye, the ear, the nose, the ton-uc, 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 pu-pose 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 conscien( Ethel. ~ Where is your conscience Teacher. — That is a part of the soul. We ice. K'M J/Ol\- SJ/A/.L MY C///I n />'/•; /'AlUI/T? iMiinot \A.wc il. It tcMls us what wo oii>;ht to do or oiiL^hl not lo ilo. 1 1' wo i>bo\' il, it will ho faithful, auil i;iow uumo aiul uioio clear aud lio- oidod ; il uot, it hooouios uuoorlaiu. It is tho St->:Si- of //.■;• sou/, as roason is tho souso ot tho niiuil. Tho sousos ol all _L;row' u\oro dolioato as wo uso thoiu aui! ilo uot ahuso thoui. Wo uuist take i;ooil oaro ot tho (U-i;aus ol souso. Tho o\o, for example, is so ilolioato auil easily hurl : what })rotection has il ? Esthrr. — The e\ebrows haug oxer it, jusl like a poroh. Gertrude. — I have oftou tluuiL;hl the evoruls are like friui;ed ourlaius to oo\ or it. 'J"ho\ i^pou auil close so cpiiokh. bofoio \ ou oau thiuk ot il. TeacJur. — \'ou ha\o a lilllo fouutaiu ol salt water to wash it with. We will lake the eye for auolhor lesson. VII. TlIK EVE. TeaeJier. — I'^.aoh ^^{ \ ou look at \our noii;hbor's e\o stoadih'. Is the o\o llat or rouuJoil .^ it is rounded. \'os, il is a hall. \'ou uia\' ha\e seen /'A'/.i/.IA'V CLASS /N r // VS/OLOiJ Y. I 65 ■d fish's eye: it is snio(jl.li, h.-ud, ■A,\\i\ slippery. Ho yoii see .'i liltle iiiiirm in the middle, with your own face reflected in it? Y<;ii df>. 'j'hat mirror is a little, convex, transparent surface, like ^dass, over the open enrj iA a tul)e that leads into a dark chandler, where iiiiy impression of your face is spread upon the walls as it is upon the jd)oto;;r;ij>her's plate, anr| that j^icture is carried by a \\^\y(i to the brain, which jjcrceives it and sees your face. So it is with all that is before the eye. 'Idiat black hole is called the ////z7, the glassdike surface over it the cornea. Do you see the blue, or ;,M-ay, or brown circle outside the pupil } 'i'hat is the iris. It shows little muscles to diaw the ed;;es closer to;(ether and make the pupil lar^^er when it ;,m-ows darker so as to give room for more li;;ht to go into that dark chamber and make the picture clearer on the walls. What else do you see, Alice } Sallic. — 1 see the ])upil grow smaller and the ijlue part grow wider. Teacher. — There are some other circular mus- cles which draw the iris up over the puj^il like strings in a bag, when the light is too strong. \\(A\ your eyes around. Can yf)U .? l66 J/OW SJL4LL My CHILD BE TACGJ/Tt All. — Oh. \ OS ! ovorv w.iy. Teacher. — There arc iiuisclos kIiuI corJs hoUl- ii\^ tlio roiiiul ONoball in its socket, which can act like the coiJs and muscles in any part of the body and turn the oyc as w c will. Did vou over see a person cioss e\ed. or with e\es turned too much toward the nose? Si^methini; was wioui;- with some ^A the muscles, in that case. If \ani use your eves too much. \ou uku hurt these muscles ; if vou hold viuu" book too near. \ou will hurt the eyeball, making it i;row con\e.\. If \ou keep glancing- too rajMdh- from a ilistant to a near object. \ou will tire and weaken one k>\ these muscles and grow more and more near-sighted. Alwa\s heed the caution ^^{ tluKse who have had experience in troubles oi the e\es. for it is such a terrible thing to ha\e the e\es hurt or impaired by abuse. Hold your lu\ul up naturallv as \ou sit erect, and read with the book at just that distance where \ ou read easilv. Ho wo\ read or look with one e\e onl\-, but with two, as is de- signed for \ on. Hat he the e\es with fresh, cold water; ojumi them in water e\er\- dav ; rest them when the\- feel tired. If \ ou are at all near- sighted, practise looking at distant objects. V>k> PRIMARY CLASS RY PI/YS/0/XJGY. 1 6/ you see the little blood-vessels roil over the eye- ball ? AIL — We do. 1 eacher. —V>cm\ 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 li;^ht, nor to look directly at a very bright light. Why do you have two eyes ? Prescott. — To see all round a thin^. 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 ner\'e which i6S now SUM I MY ('im.n /.•/•; TArciir? i-;irrics Ihc |)ic-tiiri' to Ihr brain is the r'/Z/V iwrvc ; it has a l)iMiuh to c\u-li cn'c. TluTt' arc two little 1 raiispaii'iit louses lor tin- rays ol lii;iit to pass through holoio tlio inipii'ssioii roaehos tlu' optio lUMNt'. Voii must loarn inoro about liL;lU, and how it \va\'os, boloro \»)U oan undorstand lull)' how the iniaL;o whic-h passes into the pupil through the i"on\o.\ lens o\er il, the cornea, reaches this ner\'c. Vlll. Till'. S1:NSI'. Ol" lll'.AKlNC.. l\-iulii)\ — The eai is a stran_<;e-lookin<;" part of the head, sonu^what likc> a little trunii)i>t attached to the side of the head. Carrir. --- It looks like a shell. Tttidy. — Does the opcnini; i^o \\[\y into the head } /)■(}( //(T. — No; N'ou would lind soinethiui; very soon which would stt)p the wa\' ; it would look like a little round white nuanhranc, as it is, like the i)archinent of a drum stix'tchcd ox'ci- tlK> open- \\vjL\ it is delicate and thin, about so wiilc ; it rh'/MAh'Y CLASS /N /'// vs/o/jx; V. 169 (|iiiv(:is ()!• vil)r;it(;.s vvlu;u souikI strikes it, just like ;L!iy stretched siiiTace ; it vihi'alcs with the souii'i- vvaves of nir, and that vihiation is carried throned) it to four httle bones wliich are in a,n oj)en chaml)er beliind it ; they carry it on tliroii^di a spiral passa^^e very niiich like the windin;^s of a snail-sliell, until it reaches the nerves, vvhicdi carry it to the brain ; when the brain receives the impression, or knows of the vibriition, son/id is the result. Why do you think the external ear is shaped so ciua(jusly ? lithcL — ■ To f(et all the sound it can. Teacher. — The vibrati(jns of the air, which are waves of sound, are gathered up in the expanse of the outward ear and transmitted gradually thrr)ugh quite a tube without sudden shock to the delicate drum of the ear. This i\\-\\\w is sr) delicate as to re[)eat the vibrations very truly to tlie 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 i)erceives 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. I/O Noir SHALL Mv c//lll:> be taugllt? Fa)iny. — Why cannot Alice hear as well as we ? Her ear is just as good. TcacJici'. — 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 .? TcacJicr. — 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 /I 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. TeacJier. — 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. Hat tic. — 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 1 1/2 //();/' sn.u.L MY CHILD JU-: 7\irufJT? Miii^xir. — No, vcui would leave what was aliwuh' in the looni still thoro. TcacJur. — W'ouKl it L;i\c loss jicrfiinio in another room, then. Daisy . — No'ni ; just as nuieh until it is witheiwl. Ti'iU'Jwr. — Isn't it \erv strani;e? SiMnethini;" cseapes from the Uow^m- as loni;- as it lasts ; with- out taking time to travel, without making the space of the iH)om au\' less, it tills ever\' part of it, telling us of the eharaeter of the tlower. C^ue little k\\\>\s of attar of rinses will send its otlor through a bi^ttle as tighth' sealed as we can seal it, and pervade, everything it reaches with such a strong scent that it seems almost imjH^ssible to destro\' it. What a wonderful qualit)' ! It reaches our brain thrcuigh little ner\-es spre .d out upon the inside of the nostril, and we ha\'e the sense of smell. The sense of taste is almost as curious, but as it ie(.iuires contact oi the cngan i^f taste, the tongue, with the substance wliich is tastctl, it does nc^t sccni c[uite so impossible to understautl. Look at each other's tongues. Look through this magnitxing glass. 1 bn\' won- derful! A little forest! The surface o\ the J'A'/AIAA'V CLASS IN J'JI YSIOLOG Y. 1/3 tonj^uc 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 t 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. TeacJicr. — 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. 174 //(>//■ si/ALi. MY ciiu.n />•/•; tavght? IX. VITAL ORGANS. TllK HEART. TcacJur. — 1 ha\o ti>Ul )oii soniowhat of all jKirls ol the body except those whieli are kejH in the two chambers within its center frame. Tut your hands uj^on your left sides, i;"entlv iM-essing. What do you feel .^ Teddy. — I feel the little hammer that pounds all the time. TcacJu'y. — Do you have to keep that hammer sounding;- or beating by your own thought or will } BlaiicJic. — No ; it goes itself. TcacJur. — Here is the heart of a calf. Let me show you how it is made ; for vours, which is what you feel beating, is much like it. It has these two sitles, one which fresh, rctl blood goes through, and one which the im}nn-e, dark blo(Hl, returning from its course through the body, tills. The heart is like a pump ; it forces good blocnl, which has been purified, through numberless tubes, called artcrits, to all jxirts of the body, to build it antl feed it ; then it receives that blood which has become impure, back through as many PRIMARY CLASS IN PHYSIOLOGY. 1/5 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 176 I/OIV SHALL MY CHILD A/-; TAUCII'J'? 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. TcacJicr. — 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 w^ait a moment without breatl:- ing, but then I have to breathe again. TcacJicr. — 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 w^e 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 IX PHYSIOLOGY. 1/7 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. Coiirtenaye. — 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 17^ JIOIV Sl/AIJ. MY CHILD BE T AUGHT? can see at once that the air about us is hurt by the escape of this waste from the hnigs ; we must have fresh, jnu'e 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 w^ell. 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 one more organ which is necessary to life, within this upper cavity of the chest, protected by the spine, ribs, and breast- bone, and by that strong muscle below them called the diapJiragni. It is the stoniacJi. Here is the stomach of a pig; very much like yours. It PRIMARY CLASS I.V PHYSIOLOGY. 1/9 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 rjiouth ; then I chew it. Teachei'. — 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. l80 HO IV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? Teacher. — How do you stir it about for your teeth to chew ? Edith. — My tongue rolls it around. Teache?'. — 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, Zd\\^(lW\Q 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 bozvcls, which are below the diaphragm and in another cavity of the body, called the abdomen. In this cavity, which is less protected than the chest, are the bozvels, the liver, the 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 jioiv SUA 1. 1. Mv ciiu.n />'/'.• f.uu; //'/'? become a part of your Ixxly, and all these or^Miis which work upon it are called the (/i]<^cstive oro-njis. ])reathe <;()od air, sleep, rest, exercise, and eat well, and you will be well, and happy, and useful, and, I tliink, gvod. CIIAPTKR XII. THE PRIMARY TKACIIILR : HKR WORK AND HER FITNESS EOR IT. I. It is a ^ood omen for the future that the ques- tion — Who shall teach the little children ? — is at last thrown into prominence. If its importance is be^Innin;; to l)e appreciated by thou^ditful educa- tors, we may feel that the axe is laid at the root of the tree, and that the evils of its neglect will he finally eradicated. It is well iinrlerstood by those who have watched the develoj)ment of human life that the first ten years do more toward shaping individual character and destiny than any subse(juent dec- ade; that, as a rule, the proclivities and desires, the tastes and aims, tlie habits of thought and feeling, are ])retty clearly indicated, and the course of after life determined, by the environment and training up to that [)erio(l. If a generation of girls and boys could be put during that time under 183 i^[ //()/'• .S7A// / .]/)■('/////>/.•/•• r.irciir? the hi:;lu\st moral inllinMUH's. tho most int«.'lli;;cMit iiu'tlioils ol intt>lUH-lii;il c-iiltuio, aiul the ii'lino- monts ot pure social inlcreourse, one miiL;hl xoiuh loi" the nobiliU' ol llio nc\l ^tMicralion ol moii ami wcnuMi. ami iho saU-l\' ol soriolw Mow nuioh has iho (|iioslion ol llu^ (]iialilv of tlu' i)iimar\'-school loachoi' (o do with this proposi- tion? It is certain that luMO(ht\- is a stroni; and nncontrollahlo element in the prohlem. home life is its secpiel, and not tam;il)l\' withm our I'jasp ; hut tor the _i;iiMler part ol the i;ro\vinL; and wak- ini; hours of the c hi'.dien's li\es the\' are direetly in the IkuhIs o\ the puhlie school teachers. What a prolound responsihilit \-, t hereUire. coiniect s itself with the work ol these teachers, — the wellare of llie next L;cMier.it ion, the ilestin\' ol a race! Strani;el\' cMiouL;h, the impoi lance ol the inilu- ences smroundini; earl\' childhood is scarcely lelt, e\'cn by mothers. Ten) inan\- ol the children o{ wealthy and c-ultuicil houK\s aie ielt to the ox'ci"- si;.;ht anil companionship ol incom|)clcnt , per- haps vuli;ar, i)erstms. Thoui^hllcss women thus despise the pri\-ile!;e ol mot hei hood. The !;ic\it mother lu\nt ol l'^t)hel has shown in Ins " Mother SOUL'S " a j:limi)se ol the education the nil: ri;i.MAi-v ii.aiiiij;. 1X5 l).il)cs may receive; ill tlicii mot Iki s' lovin;^ ;irms, ;iiifl wliicli llic mothcis m;iy ic(civc in |)i()'li;',;il icliiiii fioiii llx- liltic miiii.'.tciiii;; ;iii;m-1:, who ( liii;^ to llicm ill lliat l.iitli ill llic motli. r wlii( li Nature ;;iv(.-s. 'i'lic fine:! liiiii;; the mollici c.in l)riii|^ from hci licit t. or bi;iin is (li;;nili<:fl hy Ijciii;/, j.mvcii l(j her child, and not h:ained in v.iin if leai ncd h^r iiim. Sect, then, the hic'idth ;iiid depth ;iiid h(i;di1 of the vvoik ol the I'liiiiMiy Teacher! iL is to loiin character, htiiin, ;iiid ;.o( i;il hfe, not, for one c hild alone, — th;il, indee*!, vver(t a task ol inlinilc v;iliie, hut for scores o( childien who rest, in hei h;inds ]ik(t the plastic. clay in tli(t hands of the s( iilptru-. What a, line and stion;.'^ ideal must sIk; be capable ol loniiin;; ; what clear dis(iiiiiiiiat ion must she be able to exercise, t hat she mayconloim that ideal to indivifliial possibilities, and the indieations of nature in ea( h hidden ?_',enn of personality! What until in;', zeal and enthusiasm do(ss she need foj- rescMiin;^ dod's purpose from failure in the many lives so put within her flevelopin;.; hand ! indeed, the oppoit unity ol the j)i imary-school teacher is a great and heavenly one, and di^'iiihes the noblest life iA womanhood. 1 86 HOW 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 v^e can perfectly simplify and i""o which we can THE PRIMARY TEACHER. 1 8/ 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 w4iich 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 I So //OW SHALL MY ClUf.n FK TAL'GLLT? life ; above all, in the comfort, rest, and illumina- tion of the ever-present source of inspiiation 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 primarv 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 voung 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 (Hit of the public schools. The first demand is for immediate organization. Whatever else is post- poned, the task of reducing this babbling crowd to (M'der cannot be delayed. Nothing can be done until all are seated ; then a quiet, orderl}- atten- tion must be compelled, and perfect acquiescence in the authority of the teacher. It mav be thouj;ht that this is an easv matter, but to manv THE PRIMARY TEACH KR. I<^9 it is an impossibility. At this exigency there is required an executive abiUty, 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^ in)]y SHALL my cl'ild 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 tans^led threads of individ- iial 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 froni normal school honors, ushered into her first school as teacher. It is a hi2,h school for ////•; J'RIMANY TEACHER. IQ^ 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, T am so incompetent! why did I come 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 ; 19^ I/O IV SI/ALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? the tremor of doubt is swept away by a i2^rcat 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 contiol 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. 193 benevolent and cultured youn^^ 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, l^ut al^. was of no avail; nothing was done toward organizing the unruly crowd until the youngest teacher arrived late ; her companions came to her in (Hsmay. "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 anythin;^^" This young lady knew her power ; it had been trained .'ind proved. She stepped to the platform and aske;l the other teachers to be seated there. She then turned to the assemblage before her. She neiUier rang the bell nor spoke, but, coming forward as near to tlie 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 104 //('//■ SNA 1.1. MY ciiii.n /.'A' r.ircirr? Icarhcr ; in ;i Irw moiiuMits ;ill wi'ir subdued; the room \v;is \\\ okUt. Tlicii, willi ;m iusl.inl pcn'i'i)- lion of Llicn;ilural divisions and coud)inalions ol their various dt'^rcrs ol" a,L;c anil inlclli_i;oncc, she ariangcd Ihrin in cdassrs ; wilh a niro adaplalion of cacli to cacli, iniheatt'd thoir iwspocl ivo Icaih- CM'S. When sonic ol the ciiihhcn wimc afterwards asked why the\' did not come to ordci- l)efoi"e, they saiti, '* VVc (hd as soon as the inistiess came; wo weren't i;oini; to l)eloi-e." So she became the mis- tress of the stdiool by this natural appointment, because the L;ilts ol maslciy and oi"i;ani/.ation weie ii\ lier, and slic had learned how to use them. The Inst appearance of a teacher bidOre her pupils is usually a test ol hci" possession of these essential faculties, but b\' no means the onl\' oc"ca- sion lor their active use. They come into the arrani;ement ol every cdass and the woik of eveiy lioui', into the i)lan ol each lecitation and eveiy phase of the relation between teacher and pupil. When their dcxclopuKMit is pcrlcct the school will be destitute ol any i;erm ol insuboiihnal ion, and e\ery j^upil responsix'c to the idea, and will of the teachci-. In a school ol little childri.Mi, the teacher acts like a true mother, and the\' hold to her as if yy/A /'A'/A/AA'v ■/'/■.Acn/'.R. 195 covered ])y her broodin;^ heart and niiiifl, hreath- \\v^ in a sweet atmosphere, whih^ th(;y hIor)m and ripen in nn])roken eontent lik(t rose-buds in tlie gardens of June. The details of the work of the primary-schof)! teacher would he hard to enumerate; but first and most apj)ar(M)t 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 au'I ^^ood. I remember, in my nursery days, if we were restless and cross, mother would sometimes wash our faces and hands, brush our hair, -.wmX j)ut on a clean apron, and the nau<;ht.iness disappearcrl ; we could not have our clothes belie us, and we were* renewed in spirit by the physical refreshment. I woulrl not engap^e to be in any way a;^^reeable ox 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, l)ut I have knr)wn a teacher wlu) did it for twc-nty years in a iioston primary school. This good woman had as thoroughly the feelings of a mother as though all the children had 19^ 7/Oir S//AI.L MY CHILD BE TAi'CIIT? been <;iven her bv (iod. She bei;-i;ed material wlien she eoiikl not buy it, eut out ch)thes for them, and her heart tUL;i;ed at every cord that could Hit 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 ]nd)lic-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 w^ages 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 coidd 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 jnimary-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 tinlearn 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 th2 honor of good v/ork there the highest honor that she can hope to achieve. As I pass through the city streets, I watch the 197 U>S //()/r .S7/.^// MV CHILD HF TACGNrt you!ii;stors dodi;ini; tho tr.uns. sittiuL; on I ho cinh- slo!u\ triulL;in^^ b\- iho ro.ul, plaxiuL;' in \\\c i;utlors; aiul 1 think. ** Tiioso .no tho piim.nv- sohool chiKhon who will i;o .ill duW and boistor- ous to thoir to.iohors, .uul lhv^\ will ho at thoir wits' oiul to koop thoiii .inoiui\o .iiul tr.ui.ihlo. aiul to lUn.iin lh.it rosuh whioh sh.ill ho vhMu.uuIod at thoir h.invls." h"iU\- i>r si\l\ oi thoso liltlo lH)hoini.ins lioopiuL^ in to \ ou d.iiU ! I Jo not woiulor at Noiir ilisoinii.iuotnont, Kolonns arc nooJovl ; not >v;o-.- than I wont \ solu^l.iis to a toaohor, tho .iholition o\ nnioh ol tho siatistio.^ and niunoiio.il r.inkin>;. hot lor s.il.nios, .iiul nuM'c poison. il indopoiuionoo ; thoso .no what \oa oiiL;ht to h.ivo .iiul will h.i\o .It [\\o<\ i^iant !"> wo dist.mt li.iw In tho nuMiitiino. \oii must hoar up .is host \ on in.i\. Tho work \ on .no oalK\l to Jo is .iho\o p. IV. .nul .illhoin;h \ on oii;;ht .it tho propor tiino to ol.iim .1 insl oo^niwilont tor iho woik it n on pnno vonrsoll oqii.il to ii. \ ot koop this niallor lar tioni wni .IS .1 motixo; it will t.iko .ill tlu^ lito .nul wiliio out ol \inir intlnonoo and \onr oiuUmnois. \ on aro doinj; tho work hoo.inso n on Kno it. .nul would do it without p.i\ r.ilhor th.m it should ho \c\i undone ; it is too nohlo a wim k, .nul too no.ir \onr 7() /'r/MA/:Y :.(■//(,(,/. '//,]'///■/■•;. \<)') heart, \i) \>>'. riMtasiircd by riiffury. U you mtnly want lii^^li w:i'^cHf and teach onfy ])('j::l\\'j: yon can j^ct your ]ivJfi|L< by it, yoii ar(; not a teacher in any high sense of t})e v/r;rd. We rnu:st not be mere operatives or workers at a trade, but members of a profession, masters of an art ; we must ^o into school with tbis consecratirm to r^ur vocation, and we shall carry with us the fresh vitality which will give tone to the very poorest class of pupils, and the rria;;netism of our presence will crystallize even the rudest elements into order and symme- try, as the ma; puhlie in their behall ! Tlie natixe restlessness of the child indicates the ri^ht course with him ; a frequent cham;e of theme, the senses leading, the mind followinp,-, growing and stren<;thening- anil rejoicini;' in ac(|uir:nL;- knowledge concerning all which his senses or his imagination scizj ujx-)n. Allow yourself to be in symjxithy with the chil- dren ; become yourself as a little child, abandon yourself to the happiness ol receptix'ity, 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 f'li-asurabic cxcitcDicut which shall absorb his attention, to lead him b\' what he has seen to what he has not seen, to add fact to fact as a result of his power of inler^Mice, — not as one would pile stone upon stone, but as nature multi- jilies cells, and as mind evolves thought ; so that the miiul is working while storing up, — not with a mechanical menu)ry merely, but with every fibre of the brain in harmonious and balanced action ; 'JO rh'/MAi:y-S('//()()i. 7/-//r///'./'.v. 2or this is healthful and flcli^htful. It is rJisj^ropor- tionatc anrl forccfj work, firudgcry one way or another, which wearies and kills ; tlie balanced activity of tl;e hrairi, like the skilful playin;; of an instrument, keeps it in tune. The natural, not the morbifl activity of a child's mind, is j:>erfectly safe, and shouhl not be discourager] but satisfied. 7'he 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? 'J'he old way or the new way, as the inrlividual mind takes it best ; some _see how words are spelled, some hear better hov/ ; some want to analyze and get the letters first, others read at a glance, more by vivid imjjression of sight ; but with a slroiif^ desire to read and write, and an aroused interest in things, they will soon learn by any rnethorl. I have seen many a child who rear] before its mother or teachers knew it, through the force oi a spr^ntaneous desire, almost as one insensibly acquires a foreign language by frequent rapid read- ing without translation. ]5ut while they are learn- ing how to manage their tools they want food ; 202 HOW SHALL MV 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 them ; 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. 203 all otir 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, ard 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 204 //(?//■ SHALL MY CJ//LI) BK TAVCllT? fine workmanship without trained and gifted workers. But }ou mav say your work is ah-eady set for vou, — 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. TJic ardoi' for Icaninig, tJic taste for beauty, tJic aspiration for cJiaractcr, are all Iving 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 oi 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 70 PRIMARY-SCHOOL TEACHERS. 205 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 cress, 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 20(> //t>//- S/i.U I .}fy CHILD Ji!. \oiir iiulwolliui; prosoiuw All that is i;ooil outwavdlv comos tViMu what is tnio aiul luMutilul inwaiillw Sho can transloiin the iihk\st matcMial to liiuMioss who is tnih roliiu\l. tlu^ most liaivlonoil to sol'tnoss who ilcals with it toiulorly. Ho all that \ ou woiiKl inako \ onr own ohiKlron, an^l K>i^k at each chiKl as il it wore iiuleeil \our own. ciiAi'i i:i^ XIV. TIIIC SCII'.NCI'; Ol' I'KI.MAKV 'IlwXr 1 1 1 N' .. I. Anv (li:;c(T»iin;^ ;iii'l I hoii'-lii fiil person wlio has w.il( lied vvil li 1 Ik: ;i1);.oi hc< | inl cnl ik'.s ol paicntal iiilci (•:,!. I lie o|)ciiiM;', life ol I lie liiiliiMli ])C\\)f^ CUn- not l)iil li.ivc obsci vc(l ilsinosl o'wioiis cii'lowinciil s ol hofly, niih'l, ;iiifl '.oiil, ;iii'l llie order in wlii( li 1 licy ni.inilcsl 1 licnisci vc',. II 1o llic p;iicnl;il Ix: ;i(|(|c'| llic ',( idil ilii- intcrc:,!, Ilii:. oi'Ni will he; c.iiclnlly iiolc'l, ;in'l llie ni<-tli(jd, ronflilion, ;inf| sphere of aclivily of <:very l;i' nity dnrin;/, llie -.ini- plcsl Ht.'i|;(' of individnid hein", will he diseoveicd as a h.'isis for |) ;yelio|(<;.d( ;d l;iws. As Ihe ;iltenlioii of llie edM(;ilion;d jjnhlie is more ;nid nioie (.died 1o such in vest i;.',;il ions, p;iiciits ;ind 1e;i( her:, will le;irn 1o '.liidy more; c:\n> fully Ihe plM-iioiiien;i of 1 he r)pci)in;^ nn"iif|. in snch slndy their sytnp.'it liy .'ind inlelli;M-n1. ;ipjjre- cintion will develop ;i. snre ^loniid for Uiu: cdu- 207 cational principles. Tho nioihor will no KMii;or v^truggle Mindly through tho niosi inipoM.mt \ oars of hor relations wiih hor ohiKlron, nuurin;;- tho synmu^try of n Uuro's dosis^n. loarnini;" onlv hv a scries of irretrievable mistakes how to train the in>niortal bein^;' : the teaeher will have a ehait lor l\is i;uiJance on the intiniie sea ot human inlluenee and endOvWor, as it is thrown around the formins;" destiny of human life ; and although earnest pur- pose antl imremitting eare ean never be relin- quished, yet they will bo direeied bv untailing law, and aet amid the illuminations (A established sei- eneo. 'IMus will bring the repose o{ eertaini\- to the anxious heart of the mother, .md s.i\e her many a pang of self aeeusation in the future, as she sees with pain the results (>f her ignv>r.u\ee in tho blernished career of wliieh she had eherished a spotless i^ie.d in her \oimg maiernlt\-. li will be no less \aluable to the teaeher to work in the realm of mind and smil with the assur.mee ot tho chemist in the laboraiv^rw ov the elect riei. in acquainted with the laws oi his material, which almost approaches in subtletx the essence which the teacher attempts to deal with in the schoi^l- room. 1 el the teacher .uul parent commcnce.it SCII'.NC/'. ()/' /ViV/l/./AT ■/•/.. KHIM;. 2()() once, llicii, lliis ;ill iiii|joi 1 ;iiil .',liif|y of llic l;iw.s of (|cvclo|)iii<-iil of llic liuiii.'iii hciii;;. 'Ilic hiihc lies passive ;infl ;ilino:,l iiiif'on:;rioiis in ils iiiot.licr's Linus, .'is i;,Mior;iiil o( Iii', laciillics ,'iihI llicir uses as if tlic l.ivv of lidclily li.id ;iol conie to his assistruK (t. Ills ( odik* I ir>iis with liic owl- w;ii'| vvoihl, ;iih1 I he ;L;ii ciil ; hut the hiini.'in chiM, willi its etein.dly jMO^MCSsive life, jjioceeds very f^r;idii;illy to its iiihei itan(:(;, unfolds its powers, ;ind .'icr oiiim(;dates itself lo ils position l;y slow slaves. Iii;; uiiiul and soul, ;is well .as his hofly, ar(i in tlie fl.iwn of .ictivily. The hofly offers the intelligence the only w;iy lo ils en vii oninents. 'I'he child (.in ;u f)iiire knowled;'/: only hy the ave- nues of his senses, and has first to discrwer by experiment h(;w to use the senses. He oi)cns the or>;jn ol si;>ht, .uul \v^}\\ .m.uks his ronsriiuisiu'ss, — lu^l .u oiuw jUMOOpliMv, but bv ^K\;;ioos, thiini!;h ropo.il».Nl v^i^poi I unil\ , rhiAMi;;h .ilniosl iiniuMocp- liblo ilo\ olopnuMUs ol sons.ition ho lools, .uul I ho oxislouv'o ol oMoin.il in.illvM is u^\\mK>1 to him; ho laslos .uul siuolls. ,\\u\ o\\w\ l.u'ls josponJ ; ho hoais, .uul soiuul .mswois to his luitiu.il susvH^pti- bilitw 1 lis ti.iinin;; h.is bo;;im ; X.Uuio is l.uthliil to hip.i, .inJ t.ikos oh.u;;o ol his i\luo.ition lioin tho I'ust ; .in\- othoi to.iolutij; iu\jst bo in thoiliuHi lino ol hoi inl.illiblo mothoJs. l>iiol .uul intoimit- tont .no tho K^ssons ; tho b.ibo sloc^ps in uttiM" rost, ;nul ihon .iw.ikv^s to loooixo now .loiws^iiMis to his n.itin.il niont.il ;\io\\th lluon;;h tho sonsos, ;uul j'^hvsioal L^ivuxih lhivMi:;h tho instinots. PiMoop- tivMi, tho liisl ivsNohio.il .lol. is bo:;nn in tho bi.im tnivni;;h its ooniu\'tion b\ tho bovU' with oniw.iul phononuMui. N.itino to.u'hos In lopoatoil jmosou- t.ition i>l tho siibioot ol obsoi wit ion, whon tho miiul is lostoJ .uul .itlontixo tt> llu* sonso oppoi t unit \\ It \vi^ wouKl to.ioh luithoi. it must bo uiuloi simi- l.U" oo:ulitions .uul b\ tho s.imo plm. Wo m.i\' nuillipU iho v>bioots ot obsoi \ .it ion. .uouso ilosiios, slimul.ilo tho sonso, .uul rosp^uul to tho insiinotixo ilosiio i>t tho ohiKl's soul lor s\ nip.itholio tMijov- mcnt- 'Jo Ij^ht wc can add color and motion, which will awaken attention and excite plcanurablc activity of the Hcnftc of Ki; noil- SUA! I MY ciiii n /.■/■ r.iriiiri"! to lt\'nn 1)\' rote; lliosc^ tlnn';s which imisl fhi:illy l)r siil)jiHii'(l lo ;in ;Ki ol iiU'inoiN' should 1)C ;ip])ro;u-ho(l ;is :i (hsi-oviM \', ;is tho symbol of iik'iis. l\(.'S|)iH"t h)r \\w (.■oDimoii-scnso of iii;inkin(h l.iilh in ils loniuilat rd oxporioucrs, will !j,ro\v out ol ;iii iiiU'lliL;cMU ;illoiition to rosiills of thou_L;hl imd conduct, until rules ol science, cmxIcs ol morals, m;i.\ims of conduct, will be ;ic(.-ei)ted ;is guides lor action. 'I'he writtiMi statement of tlie jcsulls of obscr\'a- lion, ol the spontaneous courst' of thouL;ht,ol the deihu'tions of reason, of the ])Iav ol imai;inat ion, should oltiMi l)e called foi- b\' tlu' tc-acher ; tills praiiice will lead up to an appiei-iat ion of the \ahu' ol books as the stati'uu'uls ol experts ; it will also (.'ncoura_m' indixidual expression and a resj)ecl for the claims of the indix'idual bcini:;, whiidi should be a lundamenlal principle loi- the teacluM' : the school J\h- ///<• cliiltl, - iu)t the child {(n- the school. Lead the child to conwt his independence^ bv the claims ol social ol)liL;ation and civil oidci-. but, ne\'erlhel(\ss, to rest in Iiis own personalil \', to bi'coine I ii'c in the nioxnMuenls of his own mind and soul, while conscdeut'e and reason show him how to hindei" no other iiulividu- SC'Il'lNd: <)/' rh'IMAh'Y 'J'/'l A C Ul XC. 237 ality. Lead him lo find and use Ids own material for physical, nujulal, and moral growth ; to adopt laws for In'mself and obey them. Train him to study ,'i.nd act for himself, anfl for ends he himself has fixed; a.nd finally, tr> " ;^et liis own li\'in_L;," both mortal and imnifjital. 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." — Rorna7is, 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. 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 sozveth 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 //()//• SHALL MY ciiii.j^ /)'/'.• TArcirr? success. Then I longed to see the chiklren ear- nest and dih«2^ent, industrions and careful, both in their stutly and in their beha\ior ; for the fields of the mintl and the heart planted with the ]>recious seeds of knowledge and virtue need even more care than fields of corn, to keep out the weeds of wrong-doing and forgetful ness and laziness, lest the harvest of manhood and \vomanh(M)d 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 ivatcJifnlness and dili' gcncc are ncccssarj' 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 sleej), so shall thy poverty come as one that travaileth and th}- want as an armed man. PARABLES. 241 Pakaiu.e 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 multi]jlied. 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 6nce ; not the perfect conduct nor the whole lesson at the f^rst 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 things grozv gradually in good order, from less to more. 242 J/OIV SHALL MY CHILD BE TAUGHT? PAKABLE 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 eai% 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." WJiat is not used is lost. This I find to be an eternal law of Nature. PARAnLKS. 245 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 tlie 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 ! WJiat is not tised dies at last. Parable V. One day as I stood by the sea, a swarm of glorious insects filled the air; they were each like a tiny steel-blue needle, darting through the sun- 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 //(>//■ SUA I.I. .]/)' ciiii.n J^J-. TArc/iT? 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 childi-en are dull and stufnd, or rude and nauglity, and seem to choose the dark bottom of ignorance and evil, I comfort nnself 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 * ivJiat shall a vian give i)i exchange for his soul? PARABLES. 245 Par A RLE 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 ns while we are doing ours for Him. PARABLE OF PAUL. That which thou 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 //OIV SHALL MY CILILD BK TAUGIIT? 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 Cori7ithians, 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. M7 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 24^^ //Oir SHALL my CJULP JU'. TAUClIT'i root and ril)rc ; tlicy may climl) 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 i)lant which reached down to them from above ; for all things tJiat ivili receive Jiclp froiu above are lifted up and born again into a JiigJier 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 liol)' Spirit, letting their desires and elloits respond to all good influi'nces, they grasp hold of hands which shall PAKAIU.F.S. 249 lift them \\\), they climb by the roots of a higher nature, they rise from a lower into a higher king- dom. J^^or all who will ask and try may ascend and be born again into a nobler life. ^' Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened nnto 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 SN'mmetrical, as is every 250 //oir SI I. \ 1. 1. MY cmi.n /u-: vaiu;///'? woi-k of (lod. Order and liannony arc lazus of (lod in Xaf/nr ; S(f must llicy be in life. I noticed especially in the Japanese lily the anthers vil)rating on the stamens so delicately poised, and on examination I ])eiceived a purpose and design in this beautiful contrivance ; it was so adjusted tJKit the pollen, the rich bi-own 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 })urpose in their adjustment. Our life, as well as that of the lily, is arranged and contrived for a useful end by (lod, who, though omnipotent, yet deigiis to foi'm the lily as carefully as if that were His only work. \\\ everything, so the lil\' taught me, Goii has a loving purpose and a wise design. Paraiuj'. X. " Considi'K f/ir lilies, liou< llicy grinv.^'' I saw again the lovely blossoms, to study them still more, foi" they wei-e full of God's lessons. I saw the like parts to be opposite and to corre- spond ; 1 saw tliat, though distinct fi'om each PARABLES. 251 Other, they were in a manner to<^et]ier and united. The fiovver 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 tlie law of God, in nature and in life, that the most jjerfect 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 tJic fulfillino- of iJic lazv. 252 I/O IV SI/ ALL A/V C////J) />'A' TAUGHT? Parable XL 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 ciumbling outside had been converted into all this beautiful verdure and vcijetable 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 tlu'mselvcs in this work of perfecting and transfiguring the rock until it had become the ver\' essence (^f light and beauty. PARABLES. 253 Now, why should I sucldcnly 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 254 /Joir SHALL m) cjiilp j>l: jaugiit? by the beautiful vineyards, and had seen the rieh fruitage and the vats of purple wine from the wine-press. " O bountiful nature ! " I ex- claimed, "bread and wine, eorn and fruit, gold and purple wealth of the rich land thou dost offer to man for his abundant food." At that 1 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 ui)on the harvest- field, or is heaped up in bushels of shining kernels 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 antl 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 tlie fruit of the grain and the grape, con- verted to evil uses antl 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. Yc ca7iHot serve God and mammoji. 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 25^ //Oll^ SHALL MY CLIJLP /.'/•; LA r CI IT? should remain connected with its source of life and strength. Thus it is with the mind and soul. Tf 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. Parahlr 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 and 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 HOW SHALL MY CFLILD 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 I/O IV SI/ ALL 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 XVIL 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. 261 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 stiiima with his head in the 262 J/OIV SHALL AfV CrilLD HE 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 wlicn 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. 26s 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 XVHI. 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 'CH I/O IV S If ALL AlV CLIILD HE 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 and 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 jro. I even