iff'SSiSlil % Jk This 1 is DUE on the- last date stampeil below e^^' SOUTHERN BRANCH, UNIVERSITY OF CALlFORNiA, LIBRARY, U3S ANGELES, CALJF, THE CHILD his thinking, feeling, and doing >. «t ^ '^ THE CHILD HIS THINKING, FEELING, AND DOING By AMY ELIZA TANNER Professor of Philosophy in Wilson College, Chambersburg Pennsylvania: formerly Associate in Philosophy in the University of Chicago 13 IS 3 RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY Chicago New York Lotidon Copyright^ 1004 By Amv Eliza Tanner Chicago WIS" T 15c THE PREFACE In working over the mass of material which has accumulated on Child-Study, I have been most impressed by the fact that even now so few general laws can be formulated about child-nature. The material is still in a chaotic state, and seems destined to remain so for some time, because the reports from different authorities are so conflicting. In many cases the conflict is doubtless due to different conditions of observation; but in other cases it is due to differences in children resulting from heredity, nationality, or from surroundings— homes, food, and education. I therefore appreciate the fact that some of the observations given here will be seriously modified by later ones. I do not necessarily defend the observations which I cite; I only present the most reliable and leave them for confirmation or rebuttal. On this account, I have not attempted to draw many general conclusions, or to work out any complete educational theory. I have aimed rather to bring together under one cover a summary of the impor- tant work done thus far in Child-Study, so that the teacher and mother who have little access to libra- ries may understand something of what the condition of the subject is, and may, if so disposed, con- tribute toward filling up its gaps. This side of the matter is the more prominent in my own mind because the book is the direct outcome of the difificuities which I met in teaching the subject to my classes in the Uni- versity College of the University of Chicago. There 3 A THE PREFACE seemed to be a need for a book which should give a resume of observaWons which at that time were to be obtained only in all sorts of magazines and books, and which were yet necessary to an understanding of the subject. Such a book would also, it seemed to me, furnish something of the perspective which is neces- sarily lacking in scattered reading, would serve as a stimulus to more careful study of the children with whom we deal every day, and would aid in preparing the soil for abetter educational theory than at present prevails. Although lacking in theory, the book should still serve as a background upon which to sketch in details of the child whom we know best. In the study of one child or of a few children, to which we are most of us limited, we are rather prone to conclude that character- istics which are in truth peculiar to the little group known to us belong to all children. A knowledge of these wider observations will prevent such errors and will lead to more careful study. Grateful acknowledgment is hereby made to Dr. Stuart H. Rowe, Lecturer on Pedagogy at Yale Uni- versity, who read the manuscript of this book and made many valuable suggestions; to the Pedagogical Seminary for permission to reproduce the charts found on pages 331 and 408; to the Elejnentary School Record for per- mission to quote from Mrs. May Root Kern's article on Song Composition, and to the many authors whose works I have consulted freely. Amy Eliza Tanner. December, igoj. THE TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter / // /// IV 'V >[7 ' VH VIII IX X XI XII ^XIII XIV pXV rxvi XVII XVIII c XIX XX The Preface ...... The Abbreviations .... Introduction ..... Growth of the Body Abnormal Bodily Conditions Feelings and Ideas of Sex Sensation and Perception . Memory ...... iMAGINATIOrf ..... Conception and Reasoning Religious Sentiment and Theological Ideas Conception of Good and Evil Feelings and Emotions Interests ..... Impulsive, Reflex, and Instinctive Movements Growth in Control of the Imitation and Suggestion Language .... Rhythm and Music Drawing .... Pl^y Summary . The Index 5 Body Page 3 6 9 15 32 56 69 96 120 141 173 193 212 231 252 275 29Q_ 3ii_ 339 373 393 416 426 THE ABBREVIATIONS Alien, and Anthrop Alienist and Anthropologist Alien, and Neur Alienist and Neurologist Am. Jour. Folk Lore American Journal of Folk Lore Am. Jour. Psy American Journal of Psychology Am. Jour. Soc American Journal of Sociology Am. Nat American Naturalist Am. Phys. Ed. Rev American Physical Education Review Boston Med. & Surg. Jour Boston Medical and Surgical Journal C. S. M .Child Study Monthly Contemp. Rev Contemporary Review E(3uc Education Ed. Rev Educational Review Inland Ed Inland Educator Int. Jour. Ethics International Journal of Ethics Jour, of Anthrop. Inst, of G. B. & Ireland Journal of the An- thropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland Jour, of Ed Journal of Education Jour, of Ped Journal of Pedagogy Kgn. Mag Kindergarten Magazine Kgn. Rev Kindergarten Review Mag. of Art Magazine of Art Med. Mag Medical Magazine Med. Rev Medical Review Mind, N. S Mind, New Series Montreal Med. Jour Montreal Medical Journal N. Am. Rev North American Review N. W. Mo Northwestern Monthly Ped. Sem Pedagogical Seminary Phil. Rev Philosophical Review Pop. Sc. Mo Popular Science Monthly Proc. Am. Assn. Adv. Sc Proceedings of the American Asso- ciation for the Advancement of Science 6 THE ABBREVIATIONS 7 Proc. Assn. of Phys. Ed Proceedings of the Association of Ph\'sical Education Proc. N. E. A Proceedings of the National Education Asso- ciation. Proc. Intern. Cong. Ed Proceedings of the International Con- gress of Education Psy. Rev Psychological Review Psy. Rev. Monograph Sup Physical Review Monograph Sup- plement Kept, of Com. of Ed Report of the Commissioner of Educa- tion Kept, of Supts. of Ed. of N. Y Report of the Superintendents of Education of New York Science, N. S Science, New Series Studies from Yale Psy. Lab Studies from Yale Psychological Laboratory Texas Academy of Sc Texas Academy of Science Trans. Am. Med. Assn Transactions of the American Medical Association Trans. Am. Phil. Assn Transactions of the American Philo- logical Association Trans. 111. Soc. C. S Transactions of the Illinois Society for Child Study U. of Cal. Studies University of California Studies West. Rev Westminster Review THE CHILD HIS THINKING, FEELING AND DOING CHAPTER I Introduction NATURALLY enough, children have always been objects of the greatest care and solicitude to society, and have always been observed and studied, as early educational theories show. Still, diijd.gtudy while some systematic observation has its been done before, it has been left for our in^Po^-t^^ce. scientific age to attempt to reduce children, along with men, to the terms of a general formula. The importance of ascertaining the laws that govern the growth of the child's body and mind is apparent to the most superficial observer. Until we know how a child grows; whether he is of the average height and weight or not; whether he has the average control of his body or not; whether he shows signs of nervous- ness or not, we can know nothing of what the correct treatment for that child is. We may hit accident- ally upon it, but we are just as likely to leave the child to suffer from improper food or exercise or work. Similarl}-, until we know the general characteristics of each stage of mental development, we are unpre- l)ared to say what a child should study and how much he can do. We can not settle any of the questions concerning the courses of study, the order of subjects 9 lO THE CHILD and the mode of presenting a subject, except as we know the child-nature which we expect to develop by our education. Now there is a great body of facts about children, which has been obtained from the casual contact that we all have with them, and which is in some respects accurate and in others inaccurate. It is the object of systematic Child-Study to supplement and to correct these common ideas by a more careful study of the facts, and so to give a firmer foundation for educational theory and practice. In this study, two methods are possible, each of which may be pursued in two different ways: (i) We may study some individual child with great CMm'-study ^'^"-' '^"*-^ detail, or (2) we may collect sta- tistics from large numbers of children. In both cases we may get our material simply from observing children, or experiment upon them by fixing certain conditions under which they shall act. (i) Individual study has the decided advantage of accuracy in details. We become intimately acquainted with some one child, and learn to see the various fine shadings of his mind. We discern the gradually increasing complexity of his nunital processes. We can see the close connection between mind and body in many details, and trace to their origin numerous (juaint ideas and marked characteristics. In this way we can learn to deal with this one child so that we shall make comparatively few mistakes, even though our theoretical knowledge be not \-ery wide. On the other hand, such a study fails us in many respects when we come to work with other children. We can ncjt be certain which of this child's traits are INTRODUCTION I I peculiar tn liim or his family and which arc coninion to all children of his age, nor can we be sure just what importance to attach to certain traits. We can not tell whether to ignore them because they will naturally be outgrown, or to repress them. (2) Statistical study aims to give just this sort of information. It collects data from large numbers of children of all ages, compares them, and finally is able to make a statement about certain characteristics of the great majority of children of each age. Such gen- eral statements, when based upon sufficient data, rest upon the same kind of foundation that the laws of any science do, and liave the same authority. It is evident that such statistical study is strong where individual study is weak and, vice versa, is weak where individual study is strong. It lacks the detail and vividness of the individual study, but is more gen- erally true and is likely to be a safer guide when diffi- culties come up in treating the average child whom wc have not had the opportunity to study. The two methods should, therefore, supplement each other. Each parent or teacher should get a perspective for himself by a knowledge of the general facts of child- nature, and then fill in details by a study of the Mary and Johnnie with whom she lives. This outline of child-nature is what Child-Study hopes to accomplish, but as yet the outline is frag- mentary. More observations have been made on the physical nature of the child d^ii^.study. than on anything else, but even here there is great divergence of opinion as to the meaning of the facts observed and as to their practical bearing. Good work has been done on small groups of children I 2 THE CHILD in observing most of the mental processes and some of the forms of expression. From this we may get hints for an echicational theory, but it is x'aliiable so far i)rincipally in giving suggestions for further observations. If, therefore, few conclusions are reached in the study given here, it must be remembered that this is inevitable under present conditions. It is easy to form a theory if we have studied only a few children, but the more data we gather from large numbers of child- ren the more probable it seems that our present edu- cational theories must be considerably enlarged and altered before they will be applicable to most children. The object of this book is not, therefore, so much to offer conclusions, as to outline what has been done, to show breaks in the outline, and to point out places for future work. In pursuance of this object, the physical nature of the child, and its relation to his mental development, will be considered first. The study of his Plan. , , , . . .. mental growth, begmning with sensation and perception, through memory and imagination to thought, wmH follow. The treatment here will necessa- rily be inadequate in some respects. We shall then con- sider what little we know of the child's feelings and emo- tions; and finally trace the expression of his thoughts and feelings in his instinctive actions, in his speech and imitation, and in his play, drawing, and music. The teacher or leader of the class should start each member upon systematic observation of some child or group of children along one of the lines indicated in the observations at the beginnim^ of each chapter. . With this in view, it would be well to spend a part of INTRODUCTION 1 -i tlu; first Icss(in in ihc. rcadini;" and discussion of the su<;i,^cstions, and in an apportionment of the snbjects amonj^f the members of the class. Of course ■11 1 4 I 1 ^ t- Directions to no one person will undertake obser\-ations ^i^e student ui)on all the subjects, unless he wishes to study but one child. In such a case, he would do well to f^et Miss Sh inn's Biography of a Baby, or Preycr's Infa/it Mind, for more detailed accounts. Teachers usually '^\'\(\ it better to take some one sub- ji'ct, frame a syllabus, and t^et mati'rial from all the children in their room or school.* Even if such obser^•ation is continued only while the class is continued, it will serve to i^ive point and sug- gestion to every chapter in the book, and in many cases it will lead to further study and to more sympa- thetic treatment of children. By far the most valuable part of the study is lost if observation is not under- taken for, after all, a book should but lead us on to a deeper understanding of life. The following dir(x- tions may assist those about to begin making obser- vations: / Any parents or teachers who intend to keep a systematic record of one child, should get a fair-sized note-book, and enter in it the nationality Directions of the child, the sex, and the exact date for (hour and day) of birth. Where statistics observation, are to be obtained from numbers of children, loose sheets of paper are more usable. P2ach sheet should have on it the nationality, sex and approximate age *In cases where either a detailed or a general study is taken up, if a more general use of the results is desired, the author will appreciate any data that are sent to her, and will give full acknow- ledgement of any use that she may make of them. She can be addressed in care of the publishers. 14 THE CHILD of the chikl (within six months) at the time when the data wt're obtained. No names are necessary. 2 In keeping the record, date each entry exactly and give the age of each child at the time of the event. J Record the event at the time when it occurred, if possible; if not possible, state how long a time elapsed before the entry was made. An entry made several days after the event has little value. 4 Record the event minutely and exactly CHAPTER II Growth of the Body ALL weighing should be done on the nude child, and all measuring without his shoes on. 1. Beginning with birth, keep a record of the changes in weight and height. For the first month, weigh and measure the baby every week; thence, to the end of the first year, every tion\^.^* month; thence, every three or six months. There is very little material at present on changes between the first and the sixth year, and any parents who will keep such a record carefully will help to fill one of the gaps in the subject of Child-Study. 2. If you do not undertake any systematic record, at least weigh and measure your children now and see how they compare with the average weight and height as shown in the tables. 3. In some schools, it is possible for a teacher to get statistics as to the height and weight of each child in her room. Where she can not do so, she can usually get the height and weight of children who are peculiar, to see how they compare with the average height and weight as shown in the tables. 4. In cases where children fall below the average, begin a little experimenting, if possible under a physi- cian's advice, with their food and work. Keep a record of the changes you make in the food and the work, and of the effect upon the children. 15 i6 THE CHILD As our knowlc'dj^e of the mind increases we see more and more the close inter-relation of mind and body, and we realize that in trying to Importance -^ ' ^ . , of the understand the condition of either at any subject. time, we must take into consideration the DiAGKAM 1. Showing riiii Kixaiivil l'i;iitiiu i ions of the Body :n Child AND Adult. (Langek.) effect of each upon the other. We have no right to expect the same mental work or the same moral standards from a child who is sick, or cold, or hungry, as from the one who is healthy, well-fed, and well-clad. GROWTH OK THE BODY 17 The parent whose child is much below the average in growth, or in the control of his muscles, should be warned thereby to be on the watch for warious mental or moral abnormalities. As there is no way of watch- ing a child's mind except as he reveals it through his movements, it becomes of great importance that we should understand at least a little of what his move- ments signify. It is not uncommonly assumed that a child is simply a little man or woman. How untrue this is as to his Diagram 2. a. Unfertilized Human Ovum, Magnified 170 Uiam. (Nagel.) b. c. d. Segmentation of the Ovum, Magnified 170 DiAM. (After von Beneden.) body, a glance at Diagram i reveals. A child who grew to manhood preserving his childish proportions would be a monstrosity. What is so evi- dently true of the body as a whole applies ^^^^ "'"^''^ equally to details. The internal organs, the bones, blood, fat, martow and nerves, all differ so materially from the adult's that when similar chemical structures are found in him, they are considered pathological. We can not, therefore, believe that a child can eat the same food, breathe the same air, wear the same clothing and take the same exercise as an adult, and obtain the highest degree of health. The human body consists at first of but a single cell, of the general shape and size shown in Diagram 2. l8 THE CHILD When the cell bej,nns to grow, it increases in size and afti^r a time divides into two. Each of these cells does the same, and so on, the entire mass of cells ofYheb^Ty!^* increasing in number and in size. When the organs of the body begin to form, the mode of growth changes. The cells no longer increase in number, but change their form, size, and relations to other cells. In the nervous system, the entire number of nerve cells is complete by the fifth month of foetal life. From this it has been hastily concluded that the effects of education must be very limited, since all that education can do, at the most, is to develop cells already existing. The incorrectness of such a conclusion is seen when we understand that there are millions of nerve cells undeveloped in even the most cultured adult. So far education seems to have developed some hundreds of thousands of cells. With millions still untouched, we need hardly fear any curtailment of educational functions for a longtime. Considering first the increase in weight from birth to adolescence, observations upon hundreds of thou- sands of children show that at birth the average weight or a boy is 7.3 pounds; of a girl, 7.1 pounds. The boys' weights vary from 3 pounds to 12 pounds, but 8.7 per cent of them weigh between 6 and g pounds. The weight of the girls comes within the limits of 4 and 11 pounds, with 85 per cent between 6 and g pounds. The limits of safety, then, for both boys and girls seem to be 6 and 9 pounds. By the end of the first year, a child's weight should have trebled. That is, an average boy should weigh 21.9 pounds, and an average girl 21.3 pounds. GROWTH OF THE BODY 19 Effect of food. The cffi'ct of the child's food upon this first year's growth is still a much disputed question. Camerer, a German physician, observed that it seemed to make little difference whether the food was artificial or natural. He found that fifty-seven chil- dren fed upon mother's milk weighed less at the end of the first year than thirty-one others, lighter at birth, who had been nourished on artificial food. Many mothers believe that at any cost they must nurse their children, but this seems, in many cases, to work a direct harm to the child. If the mother is not well, the milk may not contain all the necessary food-elements in the right propor- tions and the baby may actually starve. The advice of a good physician should be followed in all cases. By the sixth year, the average boy weighs 45.2 pounds; the average girl, 43.4 pounds. Thence to the seventeenth year, the following table shows the weights in pounds, with ordinary indoor clothing. Burk's Table Showing Average Weight of 6S,ooo American Children in Boston, St. Louis, and Milwaukee Age VA i'A 103^ 11^ 12A ^sA i6'A Boys Average in lbs. 45.2 49-5 54-5 59-& 65.4 70.7 76.9 84. S 95.2 107.4 121. o Annual Increase 4-3 50 5-1 5.8 5-3 6.2 7-9 10 4 12.2 13.6 Percent of Increase 9-5 10. 1 9-3 9-7 8.1 8.7 10.3 12.3 12.8 12.7 Girls Average in lbs. 43-4 47-7 52.5 57-4 62.9 f'9-5 7S.7 SS.7 98. 3 106.7 112. 3 .Annual Increase 4-3 4.8 4.9 5-5 6.6 9.2 10. o 9.6 8.4 5.6 Per Cent of Increase 9-9 10. o 9-3 9.6 10.5 13.2 12.7 11.9 8.5 5-2 20 THE CHILD Examination of this table will show that there is with boys a period of fairly rai)id increase from 7}4 to lo)^ years, then a slower rate to 13^^ years, and a still more rapid rate of growth from 13^ years on. The growth of girls is more steady, but still there are wtrll-defined periods of acceleration from yyi to 9^ years and from 12J2 to 141^ years. In general, girls weigh less than boys from birth on, except from the twelfth to the fourteenth years, when they weigh more. The average newborn boy measures 19.68 inches, with the extreme limits at 15 and 24 inches; the new- born girl 19.48 inches, with the limits at 16 and 23 inches. The most rapid growth in height, as in weight, is in the first months of life. In the first month, a child adds something like 2^ inches to his length and by the end of the first year, has increased from 7 to 8 inches. At the time of the first dentition Camerer observed a lessening of the rate of growth. At the age of six years, the average boy measures 44. 10 inches, the average girl, 43.66 inches. Thence to the seventeenth year, their average heights in inches are shown in the following table.* Height. Years 6 7 8 9 10 II 12 13 58.17 58-75 14 61.08 60.32 15 62.96 61-39 16 17 Boys Girls 44.10 43-66 46.21 45-94 48. i£) 48.07 50.09 49.61 52.21 51.7S 54-01 53-79 55-78 57-16 65.58 61.72 66.29 61.99 *These meaisurements were taken without shoes. As only American children are included in them, the measures are slightly larger than the average. The American-born child is slightly taller and heavier than the English, Irish, German or Scandina- vian child. No comparative measurements exist for other nation- alities. We should also note here that the periods of most rapid increase, both in height and in weight, are put from one to two j-ears earlier by some writers. Doubtless food, nationality, and climate influence this. This table is taken from Bowditch. GROWTH OF THE BODY 2 I Here again \\'c note a rhythm of much the same nature as that of the increase in weight. The boys, as a rule, are taller than the girls exce[)t between the years of twelve and fourteen. Their periods of growth are more sharply defined, and individuals differ from each other within wider limits The differences between individuals also increase with age. It is sometimes said that up to adolescence a child lives the race life; at adolescence, there is a strong development of family traits, and thereafter the child becomes more individual. The most marked fluctuations in growth occur between the years of six and nine for both boys and girls, and again between eleven and thirteen for girls, and fourteen and sixteen tor gro^^tii and boys. The first period is closely connected other with the getting of the second teeth, and <=^^°ses. with the fact that at this time the brain is rapidly developing fibers of connection between its various parts. On account of this brain growth, there is usually a marked mental change in each child. He has more interests, he plays more kinds of games, and he has a wider range of friends than before. The second change is the accompaniment of puberty and will be considered later. It is most interesting to notice that, taking into con- sideration all the observations made, periods of rajMd growth in height precede periods of rapid Relations p-rou'th in weight, although this is not between , , • , • 1 -11 -ri • growth in so marked with girls as with boys, inis heightand is true not only of the larger periods in weight, of which we have spoken, but of shorter ones as well. 22 THE CHILD R. Malling-Hanscn of Copenhagen, made observa- tions upon seventy boys from seven to fifteen years of age, for a period of two years, to find out rhythms what rhythms of growth occur within the ofgrowth. ^^^^•^^ ^,f ^^^, y^.,^j. jj^. f^j^u^^j ^,^^.^^, ^^,^.11 marked both in height and in weight. The period of most rapid growth in weight is from August to Decem- ber; of average growth, from December to the end of April, and of least growth from April to August, Conversely, the greatest increase in height, is from April to August, and the least from August to De- cember. Within each month he observed rhythmical alterna- tions, a period of growth of perhaps fifteen days alter- nating with one of comparative rest. He also found a similar rhythm within the week; and noticed that during the day children increase in weight and decrease in height, while during the night the converse is true. Heat and light seem to accelerate increase in weight. Camerer corroborates Malling-Hansen in most of his observations; and Vierordt and Fleisch- mann also corroborate the weekly rhythms. None of these observers has dealt with large num- bers of children, and therefore we need further data before we can be sure that these rhythms are universal; but the various observers agree as far as they have gone, and there seems to be no good reason a priori why the facts should not be generally true When we consider the growth of the various organs of the body, and of the skeleton, muscles and nervous system, the most striking fact is that it is irregular. At any given time, certain parts will be developing rapidly, and others slowly. The details of this growth GROWTH OF THE BODY 23 arc much too complex to l)c given here, aiul their mean- ing is not yet understood. It need only be stated that at adolescence the heart and lungs, as ^^.^j^^jj^jj well as the reproductive organs, are grow- dicferent ing very rapidly, and that between seven parts of the and nine the brain is developing numerous fibers of connection, although it is increasing little if any in size. Vierordt's Table, Showing THE Relative Growth of Various Parts of the Body, Counting Size at Birth as 100. Length of head U pper part of head Length of face From chin to upper end of breastbone Breastbone Abdomen Leg Height of foot Upper arm Forearm Birth End of 21 Mos. 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 150 114 200 500 186 160 200 150 183 1S2 7/8 Yrs. 191-7 150 250 700 300 240 455 300 328 322 Adult 200 157 2bO (pO 314 260 473 450 350 350 It goes without saying that a child that is well fed will be taller and heavier than he would be if he went hungry, but there is another and erroneous • 1 - 1 -^1 ^i • Tir ri. Relation of idea connected with this. We often assume s^j-eto food. that any well-fed child will be taller and heavier than any poorly fed one. This is not so. Size depends, not only upon good nutrition, but also upon nationality, climate and family. There seems to be a certain size for each individual, which his body will strive desperately to reach even under the most unfavorable conditions, but which it is not likely to exceed under any circumstances. In this struggle, 24 THE CHILD disease or insufficient food before the age of six has the most permanentl)' had effects. After tliat lime, any ch'awbacks will retard s^rowlh ti'inpor.u'ily, hut will be followed by an unusually rai)id growth. A child who has had good health up to the sixth year has an excellent start in life. Bowditch's Tenth Report seems to show conclusively that children of the poorer classes are lighter and shorter than those of the well-to-do, though the differ- ences are small. All observers find that the profes- sional classes are, at any given age, taller and heavier than the laboring classes. This is true in haigland, Germany, Denmark and Sweden. The rate of growth, however, does not seem to be markedly different; that is, the poor child grows as rapidly as the rich, but is shorter and lighter to begin with. This seems to indicate that the embryonic and t;arly conditions of nutrition arc the most important for absolute weights and heights. Exactly what importance should be assigned in growth to food, race and climate, is still unsettled. Americans are taller and heavier than othir national- ities, but this is not due exclusiv(>ly to race, for an Irish-American or German-/\merican recruit is taller and heavicn- than his brother in the old country. Food and climate evidently ha\'e consicierable influence here. It is significant that idiots and imbt'ciles are always shorter and lighter than normal persons; but on the « 1 *,^ „f other hand, we must not forget that men of Relation of ' '^ sizetomen- talcMit, if not of genius, an' not inircijuent- tai ability. |^, small. We can not maintain that men below a given height and weight are stupid, any more than we can hold th.'it size has no relation whatext-r to GROWTH OF THE BODY 2 ^^ mental ability. The case should probably be stated thus: Any child who falls much below the size of other members of his family at the same age, is also likely to fall below them in intelli<;ence. A more direct relation between mind and body is given in bodily control, which we shall consider later. In \iew of the well marked rhythms of growth, the question at once arises as to their bearing upon educa- tion. Shcjuld the chikl, while growing rapid- pgriodsof ly, have more or less school work? Should growth and we stimulate him or quiet him? The most education, diverse answers have been given to these questions. The chief conflict has raged about the proper treat- ment of the adolescent boy and girl. We find some physicians declaring that girls from twelve to fourteen years old, should be taken out of school entirely and boys from fourteen to sixteen years old given much less mental work to do. Many educators, on the other hand, claim that this is the time when permanent interests in all subjects must be established. The child now li\es in a new world — one of ideals — and we must introduce him as speedily as may be to the best in literature, history, science, art, music, religion and e\-erything that goes to make up our com- plex life. We may perhaps untangle a few of the threads from this knotted skein by comparing the periods of greatest susceptibility to disease with those of ado- Relation of lescence. Dr. E. M. Hartwell of Boston age to has made tables based on the mortality ^^^e^^®- returns of Boston for 1875, 1885 and 1890. Me finds that specific life-intensity, that is, ability to resist disease, varies as follows: 26 THE CHILD Age Fek Cent ov In-crease IN Weight Specific Life- Intensity Per Cent of Incre.\se in Hei(;ht Girls Boys Girls Boys Girls Boys 5-6 4.00 4.08 4-58 3-72 3.98 4.06 4.56 4.08 3" 1.90 •77 5.20 4.58 4.38 4-03 4.04 3.12 3-39 378 4.68 4.01 4-3^1 60 08 69-5 103.S 123.2 195.4 191. 2 309.0 232.0 162.0 171.3 169.3 67.3 74 5 106.8 164.0 134.8 209.3 233.2 290.1 238.7 250.1 188.I 8. 88 9.69 8.83 10.68 9.26 10.24 13.78 13.23 10.94 7.83 5.61 10.24 6-7 8.78 7- 8 9.86 9.79 8-9 g-io lO-I 1 10.40 7-43 9-74 10 31 11.66 13.02 12.96 II-I2 12-13 13-14 14-ic: 15-16 Accordin<^ to this tabic, <4irls from 11 to 12 years old and boys from 12 to 13 years old are better able to resist disease than at any other time, although the increase in power of resistance is not so marked with boys as with girls. The entire period from 9 to 13 for girls and from 10 to 15 for boys is the time of greatest resistance to disease, while the period after 13 for girls and 15 for boys is one of less power of resistance than the years immediately preceding. To state it in other terms, the period immediately preceding adolescence is the healthiest time of life; while adolescence itself falls short of this period but exceeds the period before the ninth year. Other statistics, on the other hand, seem to indicate that the maximum resistance to disease comes some- what later, when the boy or girl has practically fin- ished growing in height and is making great gains in weight. This would seem to argue that the ado- lescent can endure a reasonable amount of work with- out harm. GROWTH OF THE BODY 27 We need, however, more statistics which shall cor- relate in the same children increase in heij^dit, weight and resistance to disease, before we can safely draw conclusions. Throughout this account we have given only aver- ages; we have been able to say only "between certain ages," or "at about this age;" that is, the NecesBityof order of growth is nearly the same for individual all children, but any particular child may ^ ^ ^• be more or less advanced than another at the same age. One child of nine years may be like another of seven, or like another of eleven. Each parent and each teacher must find out how much the children for whom he is responsible vary from the average, and modify his treat- ment of them accordingly. We should be at least as careful to fit a child with 7nc7ital garments as we are to provide proper clothing for his body. The sys- tem of grades in school is well calculated to turn out children all of the same pattern, regardless of their natural variations, and so each parent should be espe- cially careful to see that the individual mental needs of his own children are provided for. In conclusion; In the newborn child, all the ele- ments of the future man are present in germ, but edu- cation decides which factors are to grow and which are to atrophy. In the first years of Conclusion, life growth of all parts of the body is far more rapid than at any other time, and educational, that is, environmental influences, are most potent. There are at least two well-marked periods of growth in height and in weight with both boys and girls, of which the first is connected with the second dentition and the second with the setting in of puberty. In- 23 THE CHILD crease in height precedes increase in weight, and increase in weight is accompanied by increased resist- ance to disease, and is probably the time when mental work can be done to the best advantage. Size and mental ability have, not a direct, but an indirect relation to each other, varying with the family, climate and food. Any given child must be studied not only in comparison with other children of the same age, but also in comparison especially with others of his own family. We need not only general laws for all chil- dren, but also for children of this or that family, just as we have laws for species of flowers in addition to those for the genera. REFERENCES Allen, Mary E. Physical Development of Women and Children. Proc. Assn. of Phys. Ed., 1890, 9-21. Bailey, J. How to Teach Babies, L. Hughes, $0.60. Beebe. Motor and Sensory 'Children. C. 6". i^/., HI, 14- Beyer, H. G. Influence of Exercise on Growth. Avi. Phys. Educ. Rev., Sept. and Dec, 1896. Normal Growth and Development under Sj-stematized Exer- cise. Rep. of Chief of Bureau of Medicine atid Surgery to Sec'y of Navy, 1893, 141-160. Boas, F. On Porter's Investigations. Science, Nov. i, 1895. On Growth of First-born Children. Science, N. S., I., ^02- 404. Form of Head as Influenced by Growth. Science, N. S., IV, 50-51- Growth of Toronto Children. Rep. of Com. of Ed., 1S96-7, 1541-1599. AnthroiDological Investigations in Schools -Their Importance. Science, 1891, 225-228. Growth of Children. Science, N. S., V, 570-573. Bowditch, H. P. Growth with Reference to Disease. Trans. Am. Med. Assn., XXXII, 376. Growth studied by Galton's Percentile Grades. 22d Rep. GROWTH OF THE BODY 29 Mass. Board of Jfra/l/i. (Rearrangement of previous material. ) Growth of Children. Eighih An. Rcpt. of Mass. State Board of Health. Also Tenth An. Kept, of Mass. State Board of Health. (Supplements eighth with reference to effect of race and mode of life.) Bryan, W. L. Development of Voluntary Motor Ability. Am. four. Psy., Nov., 1S92, 125-204. Bryan, E. B. Nascent Stage.s and Their Significance. Fed. Sent., 1900, 357-396. (Detailed work for different ages.) Burk, Frederick. Growth of Children in Height and Weight. Am. four. Psy., IX, 253-326. From Fundamental to Accessory in Development of Nervous System of iMovement. Ped. Sem., VI, 5-64. (Excellent articles. Summarize much previous work.) Burnham, W. H. Hygiene of Schools. Ped. Sem., 1892, 9-71. (Very complete.) Camerer, W. Untersuchungen iiber Massenwachsthum und Langenwachsthum. /. fitr Kinderheitskunde, Bd. 336, 249-293. (Most important contribution on infantile growth, up to 189S.) Carven, A. Pain and Strength Measurements of 1507 School Children. Am. four. Psy., 1S99, 392-39S. Cushing, F. H. Manual Concepts: Study of the Influence of Hand Usage upon Culture Growth. Am. /our. Anthrop., V, 289-317. Dawson, G. E. Children's Interest in the Bible. Ped. Sem., Y, 43. (Summary of facts of growth.) Donaldson, H. H. Groiuth of the Brain. N.Y. Scribner's, $1.50. Du Bois, Raymond. Physiology of Exercise. Pop. Sc. Mo., XXI, 317-331. 333-433- Elliot, S. B. Prenatal Culture. Arena, IX, 1893-1S94, 417-426; X, 306-316, 668-676. (Extreme.) Galton, Francis. Growth. Rep. of AnthropomeJric Com. of British Assn., ]., 1SS3. Height and Weight of Boys of 14 Years, /our. of Anthrop. Inst, of G. B. and Ireland, V, 173-180. Hereditary Stature. Do. above, 488-499. Summary of these in Rep. Com. of Educ., 1895-1896, 117 5-1 198. Hereditary Genius, L. IMacmillan, $2.50. «Q THE CHILD Natural Inheritance, L. Macmillan, $2.00. Principles and Methods of Assigning Marks for Bodily Efficiency. Nature, Oct. 3. 1889. Gilbert. J. A. Researches on School Children and College Stu- dents. U. of Iowa Studies in Psy., I, \-y). Greenwood, J. M. Height and Weight of Children. Rep. of Board of Ed. of Kansas City, 1890-91, 45-5^^- Hall, W. S. First 500 days of a Child's Life. C. S. M., Vol. II. 1897. Changes in Proportions of Body in Growth, f. of Aiithrop. Inst, of G. B. and Ire., Vol. XXV. 21-46. Halleck, Reuben Post. Education of the Motor Centers. Trans. III. S. C. S., III., 46- Education of the Central Nervous .System. N. Y. Macmillan, $i.(>j. Hancock, J. A. Preliminary Study of Motor Ability. Fed. Sent.. 1894, 9-29. (Good.) Hawkins, C. Physical Measurements of Public School Boys. /. of Ed., 1891, 35-41. 187-^90- Holt. L. Emmett. Care and Feeding of Children. N. Y. Apple- ton, $0.50. Hrdlicka, A. Anthropological Investigations on 1000 Chil- dred. White and Colored. N. Y. Wynkoop Hollenbeck Crawford Co. Key, Axel. School Life in Relation to Health and Growth. Kingsley, Charles. Health and Education. N. Y. Appleton, $1.75- (Written about 1874; not valuable.) Kirkpatrick, E. A. Development of Voluntary Movement. Psy. Rev., 1899, 6 pp. (Nativistic theory of perception.) Krohn, Wm. Habitual Postures of Children. C. S. M., I, 114. Lander, B. J. Posture and Its Indications. Pop. Sc. Mo., XLIL 26-34. (Describes some common characteristic postures of disease.) Lindlay, E. H. Some Motor Phenomena of Mental Eflfort. Am. four. Psy., July, 1896, 491-517- Mackenzie, R. T. Place of Physical Training in a School System. Montreal Med. four., 1900, 30-36. MacNamara, N. C. Human Brain in Relation to Education. West. Rev., 1900, 634-640. Mosher. Eliza M. Habitual Postures of Children. Educ. Rev., IV. (10 pp.). GROWTH OF THE BODY ^j Oppenheim, N. Developmctii of the Child, N.Y. M;icniillan, $1.25. O'Shea, M. V. Discussion on Children's Physical Development. Proc. N. E. A., i8q7, 598. Peckham. Growth of Children. Sixth Annual Rep. of State Board of Health of Wis., 2S-73. Porter, W. S. Physical Basis of Precocity and Dullness. Trans. Am. Acad. So. at St. Louis, Vol. VI, ifn-iSi. Also Am. Phys. Ed. Rev., Vol. II, 155-173, same article. Growth of St. Louis Children, 263-380. Posse. Nils. Special Kinesiology of Educational Gymnastics. Boston. Lee, $3.00. Roberts. C. Manual of Anthropometry. L. Churchill, $1.50. (Most complete treatment in English of growth measure- ments.) Rowe, S. H. Physical Nature of the Child and How to Study It. N. Y. Macmillan, $1.00. (Simple and accurate.) Scripture, E. W. Education of Muscular Control and Power. Studies from Yale Psy. Lab., II. Seguin, E. Prenatal and Infantile Culture. Pop. Sc. Mo., X, 38-43. Shaw, E. R. Ohservations on Teaching Children to Write. C. S. M., I, 226. Smedley, F. W. Report on Child-Study Investigation. Chicago Board of Education. Telford-Smith, T. Scientific Study of Mental and Physical Con- ditions of Childhood. Pediatrics, 1897,317-321. Tucker, M. A. Involuntary Movements. Am. four. Psy., VIII, 394. Warner, Francis. Physical and Mental Condition Among Fifty Thousand Children. /. Roy, Stat. Soc, 1896. 125-128. (The basis of most other work of this sort.) Sum. in Rep. Com. of*Ed., 1895-6, 1 175. Sttidy of Children. Nervous System of the Child. N. Y. Macmillan. Each, $1.00. (Both works cover much the same ground ; very diffuse. ) West. Relation of Physical Development to Intellectual Ability. Science, N. S., IV, 156-159. Wissler, Clark. Correlation of Mental and Physical Feats. Psy. Rev. Monograph Sup., Vol. Ill, No. 6. 8 CHAPTER III Abnormal Bodily Conditions SINCE the connection between the sound mind and the sound body is as close as the last chapters ha\e shown, it is of great importance for all who have introduc- charge of children to know some of the *ion. more common symptoms of disease. Exam- inations, made in recent years, of the eyes and ears of school children show that to a most appalling degree parents and teachers have considered children stu])id, obstinate, and bad who arc only partially deaf or blind. In the minds of physicians there can be little doubt that many other cases of supposed innate wickedness or la/iness are in reality cases of some form of nervous derangement. What we shall do, therefore, in this cha[)ter is to describe some of the symptoms which should put par- ents on their guard and set them to watching the child in (}ucstion more carefully, with a view to consult- ing with a i)h)'sician should the doubtful symptoms persist. It should be well understood that such obser- vations as the parent and teacher can make are only preliminary to the ]ihysician's examination, and that it is unsafe for a tyro to adopt on his own responsibility any course of treatment. The object is not to get rid of the jihysician, but to save children from the suffer- ing (\u(i to the neglect of unhealthy conditions which arise from our inability to know when they exist. We 32 ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS -I l wish to sharpen our eyes to see wron^- conditions so that they may he more speedily relieved. First should be considered the senses of sight and hearing. 1 he eye and the ear are the principal chan- nels through which our knowledge comes, and if either of them is defective, thejzhild geuses. is seriously hampered in all his work. He himself is not likely to know whether his eyes and ears are perfect, unless they pain him, for he is accustomed to his condition, and naturally supposes it to be like every one else's. We older people must therefore watch over him. For defective eyesight, notice the position of each child when reading or writing at his seat. His eyes should be about one foot from his book or paper. , If the distance varies much from this, he should be given special tests as follow^s: Nearsight (myopia). Use Snellen's type test card* for this, having the child read the various lines of type at the distances indicated on the card. If he can not see them at those distances, he is shortsighted and should be taken to an oculist for more careful tests. In reading the type, one eye should be used at a time, the other being left open, but covered by a piece of cardboard. Farsight (hyperopia). This may be roughly tested by holding a dime two feet before the eyes. If the eyes, in looking at it, turn inwards in a squint, there is probably farsight. It is sometimes supposed that a farsighted eye does not need glasses as much as a nearsighted one, because objects are plainly seen. *This can be obtained from any dealer in optical supplies. It costs from lo to 35 cents. 34 THE CHILD This is a mistake. The farsif^^hted eye is uncicr a con- stant strain in adjusting itself to see any object clearly, and this strain if ne.^lected causes headache and nervousness. Astigmatism may be tested by the radiating lines shown on Snellen's test card. If these lines look markedly different, there is some astigmatism. A B Diagram j. Showing Change in Nekve Cells Due to Age: Ay Spinal Ganglion Cells of a Still-Born Male Child; B, Same of a Man Dying at Ninety-two; n, Nuclei. Magnified 250 Diam. (Hodge.) The ordinary test for hearing is given by means of a watch. First see how far a person whose hearing is normal can hear the watch that is to be used. Then test the child with his eyes closed, in a quiet room. We may suspect deafness if a child seems dull or inat- tentive, and constantly asks to have things repeated. Not infrequently growths form in the nose, and the tonsils enlarge, causing a deafness that is easily cured. In all these cases, the tests are only to ascertain whether a physician's care is needed. The teacher can give a child a front seat if he is deaf, or a well- ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS lighted scat if his eyesight is poor, but such measures are of little use unless curative treatment is also given. When any part of the body is working, p^^igue- its the cells of which it consists are used up; cause and their structure is changed and new sub- signincance. stances, some of them poisonous in nature, are formed. The nerve cells decrease in size and some of their connections with other nerve cells are temporarily broken. (See Diagrams 3 and 4.) If work is continued, the change or tearing down of the cell goes on faster than material to rebuild it can be fur- nished by the blood; the waste material or poison is left in part about the cell, instead of being carried off to the excre- tory organs, and in small part is absorbed by other parts of the body through which the blood passes. We then have the con- dition known as fatigue. It is evident that fatigue must follow as the result of use of any part of the body, and as exercise is one of the con- ditions of growth, it is also evident that fatigue is not, by itself, an unhealthy condition. V When it sets in, we know that our expenditure is beginning to exceed our income, and while we may borrow and live for a time on our reserve in the bank of health, it behooves us to not overdraw. No disease is so difficult to recover from entirely as ner- vous exhaustion. Diagram 4. Showing Ciiangb in the nuclei's of A Frog's Nerve Cell During Seven Hoi^rs Con- tinuous Electri- cal Stimulation. (HUDGE.) 36 THE CHILD The amount of work which causes fatii^ue has been the subject of careful experiment, so far as fatigue of [he muscles is concerned, and of wide- Conditions sp,-^>.^i thouorh not so scientific, observations of fatigue. ^ . on mental fati,i,nie. It has been found that in tlu' exercise of any muscle fati.<4"ue be.^ins to show after ten or fifteen seconds in a lowering of the rate of movement. After ten or fifteen minutes, the reduc- tion is considerable, but is slower afterwards. There is also a phenomenon com[)arable to the second wind in running. A muscle can be exercised to the point where the utmost effort of the will is hardly enough to raise the rate perceptibly. If, ne\-ertheless, one con- tinues to move it as much as is possible, it will, after a short time, recover in part its original freshness and move almost as rapidly and as easily as at first. This will happen ten or fifteen times before permanent fatigue ensues. It is still open to question how far exercise of any one set of muscles wearies the entire body. It does so to some extent, doubtless, because the poisons given off by the muscles in use are taken up by the blood and partially absorbed by those parts of the body through which the blood passes. It seems likely that exercise of the right hand wearies the left hand to some degree. Many insist that the left side of the body is more developed than it would be as the result of its o\vn exercise, and that this is due to the reaction ui)on it of the exercise of the right side. In mental fatigue, as in physical, the immediate condition is the tearing down of the nervous structures more rapidly than they are being built up, but a great variety of causes may lead to this condition. ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 37 Prominent among them are: Overwork; too Ionj:f hours of work and too much to do in those hours; excessive worry over a reasonable amount conditions of work; wasteful methods of work; not of mental enough work or not enough variet\' in it; ^ ^^®" a nervous system so much below par that it can not do even a rational amount of work. There has been of late years a great outcry against the public schools on the charge of overwork. It is claimed that they are fast reducing our ovarworkin children and youth to nervous wrecks and the public that this is true not only of Americans but ^'^^<*°^^* of English and Germans as well. The nervousness of children increases in direct ratio to the number of years that they are in school. Their weight and appe- tite diminish from the beginning of the school year to the end, especially just before examinations. They have nightmares, grinding of the teeth and tremors even where they have no well-defined nervous disease. All these things seem to many physicians the direct result of too much study. In many schools, children even as young as nine years are expected to do some home study, and from that age on the amount of it increases constantly. On the other hand, the demand is constantly made by superintendents and parents that this or that new study shall be introduced into school. The trades-unions want manual training; the mothers want music and drawing; the colleges demand languages and science. And yet children leave school with the merest smatter- ing of each subject and without knowing how to write a letter correctly. Is the rising generation stupid that it gets nervous exhaustion in learning nothing? 38 THE CHILD This leads directly to the claim made by many observant i)arents and teachers that the undeniably bad nervous condition of manv children is Overworry, not over- not SO much duc to the amount that they are ^°'^^' expected to learn as to the conditions under which they work. These bad conditions may be either physical or mental. Under mental conditions must be included such things as Fear— fear of the teacher's displeasure and of not passing examinations — and Rivalries — the intense desire for good marks, the con- sequent worry over inability to prepare a lesson, and the intense chagrin at failures in recitation or exam- ination. Such conditions are thoroughly artificial and the combined efforts of teachers and parents should be directed towards removing them. Children should feel that they are in school primarily to learn, not to show off, and that a confession of ignorance after an honest attempt to get knowledge is not a disgrace. A give and take among the pupils in helping each other can also be established in any school and family, to replace the rivalries and fears of the other system and to remove one of the great sources of worry. Not uncommonly we find that a child who seems to be up to the average in brightness takes two or three wasteful ^'^^^^ ^^ '^"S to prepare a lesson as methods of another child. This maybe due to bad ^^^^y- nervous conditions, which we shall con- sider soon, or to ignorance of how to study. In the latter case, we find that the eyes are constantly wan- dering from the book, and that there are frequent lapses into day dreams. Even when there is a fair amount of interest in the subject of study, there seems to be an inability to think about one thing for more ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS ^g than a few minutes. The best thin<^f to do with such a child is to study with hini for a time, showin^^ him how to look for important i)oints and how to connect them with other thinj^^s that he knows. Under our present school conditions, this is especially the work (jf the parents. Under ideal conditions, it mij^ht be the work of the teacher, but now she has no time in her day when such work can be done. Certain patient German observers experimented upon school children by givin",^ them columns of figures to add for two hours, or copying to do for the same length of time. They found such an ^f°^ork°^ appalling increase in the number of mis- takes made by the end of the second hour that they forthwith concluded that our schools should all be closed or in ten years no children would be left alive. However, they made the fundamental mistake of sup- posing that two hours made up of a variety of subjects would be as fatiguing as two hours of one subject. As a matter of fact, variety, while not a complete rest, is a partial rest, and should be carefully observed in making out a school program or in planning a day's work for a child. It is believed that the best hours of work are from nine to eleven; the next best from three to four; and the poorest from eleven to twelve. If we considered this in connection with the requirement of variety, we should have a day's program in which the most difficult subjects were put from nine to eleven; from eleven to twelve an hour should be given to sub- jects much less taxing, like drawing, which also gives some of the relief of handwork after the hard mental work. In the afternoon, the order would be reversed, the easy subjects first, and the more difficult ones later. ^Q THE CHILD In the demand for variety we find still another ari^u- ment for handwork, drawing, and music. If any pari of the body is left unused for any length of time, there is an irritability, a cry for exercise from the neglected organ. If only one or a few parts of the brain are used, they are over-exercised and other parts are not exercised enough. The result is excessive weariness on one side, and an almost uncontrollable desire for activity on the other. A child brought up in but one line of thought and action is nearly sure to go to extremes in other directions as soon as the external repression is removed. To get a balanced, controlled character, we must cultivate a variety of interests in thought and in action. Finally, lack of interest is perhaps the most power- ful single factor in producing mental fatigue. The horrible weariness, the indescribable sense Interest. of imprisonment to which a child is sub- jected who is forced to a study which he does not like, is something that we grown-ups will not ourselves .endure at all. While I do not think that the school should be a caterer to the passing fancies of its pupils, I do believe that a better arrangement of our curriculum, and wiser and more individual methods of teaching would reveal many interests in children which now we do not suspect them of having. A closer connection of the school with the life of the home and the village or city and a stronger appeal to the children's love of doing would accomplish much. It seems probable, then, upon consideration of the various causes of mental fatigue, that if the conditions for work were imi)rovecl by removing causes for worry, ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 41 by incuIcatiii.L,^ correct haljits of study and by arranging the curriculum so that it should aj)peal to natural, permanent, and valuable interests, fatigue would not be as prevalent among school children as it now is. This is true in schools where thc^se changes have been made, and in less time, more work is done with more lasting effects than under other conditions. The plea that we should make, therefore, is not for a shorter school day, but for a different one — one full of inter- esting work and free from worries. jBesides these bad mental conditions, there are cer- tain ph}'sical causes of fatigue which are easily reme- died and \x^t are commonlv neglected. The r- r 1' ■ 1 1 • 1' 1 1 1 Pbysical cau- hrst of thi;se is bad air both at home and sesof mental at school. Why is it that the American, fatigue. , II " 1 ^ \ • • 1- Bad air. e\'en the well-educated ^American, is so insensitive to the need of pure air? Is it because he breathes badly and has his sense of smell dulled by catarrh? There must be some other explanation than that of ignorance, for the air even of most homes is not pure, and it is rare indeed to go into a schoolroom where the air is not impure. Many a sensible, well- educated man and woman goes to bed night after night with closed doors and windows, and many a house-keeper, exemplary in other respects, never feels the need of throwing the house open to the air and sun. The simplest test for j^ure air is that the air in a room shall smell fresh upon coming in from outdoors. Even in winter time this is easy to secure. Have boards about four inches wide fitted into the bottom of the window casings, and let the windows rest on them instead of closing down. This secures a current of air 42 THE CHILD at the top, between the two sashes, and ventilates an ordinary living or sleeping room. There is usually no reason why a window should not be open an inch or two in a lied-room at night, even in the coldest weather; but if that clciiiancls too much courage, at least the door can be open and a window in some other part of the house opened to lead to a circulation of the air. In the schoolroom there is usually an inadequate system of ventilation. Architects do not consider, in their estimate of the necessary supply of air, the amount that is befouled by the bodies and clothes of the pupils. They consider only the nice, clean, healthy child, who is, in the city at any rate, the exception. As a result, the air in most schools is heavy from the first half hour after school opens to the end of the day. Then the janitor locks in the bad air to be used again the next morning. Supplement this defective ventilation by opening windows at every recess and noon, and see to it that the room is thoroughly aired at night. If the room is made too cold for the pupils by this constant airing, warm them by some vigorous gymnastics, and particu- larly by breathing exercises. The fresh, invigorating oxygen will soon reconcile them to the slightly lowered temperature. The great importance of the air supply lies in the fact that air that has once been breathed is deficient in oxygen, which is one of the most important constit- uents in building up nervous and muscular tissue. A person who breathes impure air five or six hours a day soon feels dull all the time. He can not think clearly or rapidly because the brain-centers are not properly fed, and his stupidity may become permanent. His ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 43 resistance to disease is lessened and he is subject to headaches and numerous minor evils. Therefore in order to ward off fatigue and its consequent nervous conditions, cultivate in children deep breathing and its accompanying love of pure air. Habitual postures are now recognized as the cause of much fatigue and even of actual disease, particularly of various forms of curvature of the spine. r , • , t ,2. Bad seats. Twenty to thirty per cent of high-school children have curvatures of the spine as the result of improperly made seats. The most healthy posture in standing and sitting is, presumably, the symmetrical one, in which both halves of the body have the same position, because then the muscles on the two sides will be used alike, and all strain will be equally distributed. Variations from such a position should be compensated by the two sides alternating in the unsymmetrical position. The best position in lying is still a matter of dispute. Some maintain that the symmetrical position here also is the best, the person lying either on back or abdomen. Others claim that lying on the back keeps the spinal cord unduly heated and irritable, while lying on the abdomen compresses both stomach and lungs. They therefore advocate a position on either the right or left side. The truth of the case probably is that the best position for each individual will depend somewhat upon his bodily characteristics. There can be no question, however, but that lying on the back or abdomen allows the most complete muscular relaxation, and it seems doubtful whether there is any real harm done to spinal cord, or stomach, or lungs, provided they were in good condition at the start. 44 THE CHILD Practically all j)hysicians anrrc that in order to be both comfortably and coirectly seated, there must be certain relations between the size and shape of the seat and the person. The hei<^dit of the seat should be the same as the length of the leg, measured from the under side of the bent knee to the sole; the depth from front to back of the seat should be only enough so that the entire back can rest against it, and the seat-back should follow the curves of the spine. If the seat is too high, there is constant strain in the attempt to keep the feet on the floor, and a strong tendency to slip forward in the chair and sit on the end of the spine. This alone may lead to tenderness of the spinal cord and conse- quent nervousness. If the s('at is too long from front to back, the same thing occurs. The desk should be of such a height that when the elbow rests at the side, bent at right angles, it can lie on top of the desk. The desk should slope one inch in six, and should overlap the seat by at least two inches. If the desk is higher than this, it raises the * elbow and brings a needless strain upon the back mus- cles. If it is too far in front of the seat, the child is obliged to perch on the seat-edge in order to write, and all the back muscles are severely strained. He should be able to write while leaning back in the chair. These requirements are the same for both children and adults, but are of especial importance for children, because the body is more plastic, and more easily changed in shape, and because children become fatigued more easily than their elders. Such seats as these here described should be secured for all schools. If possible, they should be adjustable, so that each chikl can be fitted to a seat. Where that ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS AC expense is too great, eacli rciom should have at least a few adjustable seats, so that the unusually large and small pupils can be suited. This is better than having no fitting whatever of the seat to the pupil. In discussing the causes of fatigue before the signs by which we may know it, we may seem to have put the cart before the horse, but the transi- tion from healthy fatigue to over-fatigue, fatigue, nervousness, and nervous exhaustion is so gradual that it seems better to discuss them together. Any person who lives with children at all knows the first signs of fatigue. A child becomes inattentive and fidgety. Ideas not related to the lesson keep coming into his mind and he can with difficulty give even out- ward attention, because his muscles are tired and dc-mand constant movements to ease them. If a five- minute recess is given at this point, there will be a noticeable recovery of attention and of control of the body. On this account, more advantage is gained from a short recess every hour than from one long recess midway in the session. If, on the other hand, work is persisted in without a rest, a child becomes more inattentive, fidgety, and irritable, and less sensitive. Careful tests show that a weary person's skin is not as sensitive to touch, and that his eye cannot distinguish colors as well as when he is fresh. The tired person has not as good a hand-grip or muscular control as the rested one. This shows in the schoolroom when the tired child is duller in recitation and more awkward and untidy in moving about the room, in writing, etc., than at other times. Such a child is also more likely to be impertinent and undis- ciplined than when rested and "fit." A good night's THE CHILD 46 rest and plenty of the right sort of food should restore the normal energy. If even now he has no chance to rest, other symptoms appear. He may have trouble in remembering the names of familiar persons and objects. He is almost sure to forget quickly what he has learned. He is likely to be very irritable and to pass quickly from the gayest to the most sorrowful mood. He will probably have bad dreams and slcej^ uneasily. On the motor side, he will be even more fidgety than at first. Certain movements, such as swinging the foot or twitching the fingers will be kept up incessantly. The facial expression will become exaggerated — the eyebrows twitching, the forehead set in a frown, the lips com- pressed, the nostrils dilated. The whole body will be in a tense condition even when the child is doing nothing or is asleep. Such a child is decidedly nervous, although he may not as yet have any nervous disease. He must be carefully watched and relieved from worry and fear, but kept [)leasaiUly occupied. Every effort should be used to build up bone, muscle and fat. Stimulating foods, and coffee, tea, and ■ chocolate, should be avoided. Long hours of sleep should be secured. Such sensitive children are at once the promise and the danger of the next generation. They may degenerate into hysterical wrecks, or become the leaders of society. When actual disease begins, the symptoms already described become still more pronounced. On the mental side thev are not likely to be evi- Signs of - -^ nervous dent unless the parents have the complete disease. c(jnfidence of their child. Groundless fears, hallucinations, forgetfulness, and all sorts of vague, ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS An uncomfortable feelings that make him cross without his knovvinf^r why, constitute the sad inner life of the child who is becominj;- nervously exhausted. His body may feel numb and lame, or may be very sensitive and sore to the touch. In either case there are usually skin eruptions, especially on the chest, back and arms. There will be either excessive perspiration or dryness of the skin. There will also be twitchinj.^ of the mus- cles or even convulsions. A child who has any of these symptoms well marked and permanent, should be put under the care of a physician at once, and parents should carefully watch a nervous child to prevent such a condition from arising. It comes on so gradually and insidiously that neither child nor parents are likely to appreciate the change. It is, however, of the utmost importance that treatment be begun early, for if genuine nervous exhaustion occurs, it is doubtful whether entire recov- ery is possible. In the conditions so far discussed, we have consid- ered only children who, although fatigued, nervous or nervously exhausted, still might, under pg^uiiar and proper treatment, be made well-balanced, exceptional , 1 ,- • ■ T^i • Children, normal members of society. ihere is, however, a large class of children who, owing usually to some inherent nervous defect, stand on the border- land between the abnormal and the normal, with cer- tain tendencies toward the abnormal. It is very diffi- cult to classify such children, but most of them seem to tend toward one of three groups: (i) The eccentric person or crank, who has a marked individuality, without being original or inventive, and who may become insane in later life; (2) the idiot or imbecile; 4 48 THE CHILD (3) the criminal. Notice that I say only that the child seems to tend toward one of these groups. How much education can do toward correcting such tendencies is a matter that civilized nations are only just begin- ning to consider. Doubtless it seems surprising to place the criminal with the other tw^o classes. Further investigation may change the classification, but as our knowledge stands now, there are certain physical conditions common to all. y\dults of these classes and children who show such tendencies are, as a ruU-, below the average in height and weight. They are likely to have some marked bodily asymmetry or defect, such as a high palate or a misshapen head. They frequently have some serious nervous trouble, hallucinations, epileptic attacks, convulsions, or some other form of disease showing nervous instability. They are unlikely to resemble others of their own family, and they in turn will have few if any children. They seem to be, in short, deviations from the normal in most respects, deviations which, by their own defects, will die out in the course of a few generations. It is impossible to explain in detail what conditions produce these exceptional classes. Most physicians agree that there is some nervous heredity, but beyond this there is wide divergence of opinion. Whether such heredity will lead to a genius, an imbecile or a criminal, no one can foretell. It is not uncommon to find two of the three types in one family. We can, however, say certainly that the children of nervous parents will themselves be nervous, and the more so if the parents, especially the father, are old. If such children turn out to be exceptional, parents ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 49 and teacher have one of the most serious problems on their hands, for as the child contains great possibilities for good or evil, so does he need especial care. We need not reiterate the importance of good food, good air, and exercise for such a child. Just in pro- portion as he is unusual, does he need more Treatment of care taken of his body. His unstable, the excep- •1 .1 i Li. i. tional child, easily-overturned nervous system ought to have all the nutrition possible without stimulation. For such a child, however, the most troublesome question is how to treat him at home and at school. He is always doing unusual or bad things. He does not get along well with other children. Perhaps he hates school, and he shows all sorts of traits that make him the despair of all who have to deal with him. We can do nothing whatever with such a child until, with the utmost patience and sympathy, we learn to put ourselves in his place, to look at things from his standpoint, and to see how, from that standpoint, his actions and feelings appear justifiable. This is, of course, true in dealing with any children, but the diffi- culty in doing it is not usually so great as with the peculiar child. To put ourselves in his place, we must get his confidence, and at the same time do some unobserved observing and experimenting, to find out his real interests and make use of them to bring him into closer relations with other people. In every way such a child should be led to feel that he is a valued and needed member of society and that his greatest happiness is in serving others. The criminal is avow- edly anti-social; the genius is too often solitary, if he is not in open opposition to his time. Children with such tendencies, need, therefore, not to be marked so THE CHILD out and set apart from their little world, hut rather to be bound to it hv infinite ties of service and affection. Nothin<4 will hcl]) an unbalanced person to keep his self-control so nuich as the knowled^'-e that he has duties and obli.L,^ations, provided that tht; service be not so strenuous as to become a source of worry. But there is still a sad remnant of children who, with our prt'siMit knowlc-df^e, are uneducablc, or edu- cable only to a small degree. They are of all ■^^^ LH-ades from the child who is onlv stupid, degenerate. ^ , i ' i i and can do the re.gular school work by having? more time than the other children, throu|:^h the various classes of the feeble-minded and imbecile, to the idiot who, a mere animal, can not be taui^ht the simplest acts in caring for himself. For such children we feel more and more the need of special schools and special methods of instruction. In some of our public schools, they are now assigned a special room and teacher, and this should always be done. Another class of degenerates consists of those whose criminal tendencies can not be corrected. It is difficult for the optimist to believe in the existence of heredi- tary criminals, and it is possible that with more knowl- edge of the proper conditions for his life, the so-called hereditary criminal may be made a good member of society. But under present conditions, it is too true that certain children conceived in wickedness and born into sin are beyond our reach by the time they are ten or eleven years of age. As the causes of degeneracy are studied, more and more do we realize how the sin or defect of the par- ents is "visited upon the children even unto the third and fourth generation." Like begets, not like, but ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 5^ similar. The parent with any form of nervous defect passes it on, but in the child it may assume almost any other form. For example, statistics on the children of parents one or both of whom degeneracy, were congenitally deaf, show that of their children, a much higher per cent than normal were, not deaf, but imbecile, epileptic, and criminal. The children of drunkards may be, not drunkards, but imbeciles, criminals or epileptics. Between 60 per cent and 80 per cent of criminals have drunkards for one or both parents. It is also the case that mere neurotic temperament in the parents predisposes the child to some form of degeneracy. The defect of the parent, whether due to voluntary causes or not, is visited upon the child, and if handed down by the children, is at last punished by utter sterility in that family. The criminal, if left to breed only with his own kind, would die out in a few generations, but he is constantly recruited from the borderland of the occasional criminal. Can there be a stronger argument for building up healthy bodies in ourselves and in our children than the knowledge of the close connection between crime and disease? From this standpoint, it is no slight matter to teach a nervous child perfectly regular bodily habits, and to cultivate in him what might be called a cosmopolitan appetite for all healthy foods. While it is not justifiable for any parent or teacher to be ignorant of the greater perils and temptations that fac'e the child of nervous temperament than face the phlegmatic child, neither outlook.^ ^ must they forget that under proper care such a child may become a most valuable member of society. The very instal)ility of the nervous system :-2 THE CHILD that makes liim so easily the victim of liquor or vice in any form, also makes it easy for him to adopt new lines of action and thou^dit, that is, makes him less the slave of habit than other people are Such a per- son, when led by hij^di ])rinciples and love of the service of his fellows, becomes the hero and leader of his generation. His vagrant, unlawful impulses must in his childhood be given the balance wheel of a noble ideal, and th(,'n we may expect almost any good of him. REFERENCES FATIGUE Baker, Smith. Fatigue in School Children. Ed. Rev., XI, 34-39. (Summary of signs and dangers of fatigue.) Donaldson, H. H. Groivtli of the Brain. (Chapter on Fatigue.) N. Y. Scribners, $1.25. Dresslar, F. B. Fatigue. Fed. Sem., 1892, 102-106. (Brief summary of many authors' work.) Holmes, Marion. Fatigue of a School Hour. Fed. Sein., Vol. HI, 213. (Supplementary to Burgenstein's experiments.) Kratz, H. E. Fatigue and Sense Defects. Proc. N. E. A., 1897, 280-284. (Practical value of testing the senses.) How May Fatigue be Reduced? Proc. N. E. A., 1897, 1090- 1096. (Practical Suggestions.) Lombard, W. P. Effect of Fatigue on Voluntary Muscular Con- tractions. Am. Jour. Psy., Vol. HI, 24-42. Lukens, Herman. Mental Fatigue. Am. Phys. Educ. Rev., May and June 1S99. School Fatigue Question in German}'. Ed. Rev., XV, 246-259. (Summary of German inve.stigations.) Mosso, A. La Fatigue Inielleciuelle et Physique. Paris. Alcan. $0.65. O'Shea, M. V. et. al. Mental Fatigue in School. Rep.'of Com. of Ed., 1895-96, 1175-1198. (Summary of Warner, Galton and vSpitzner.) Richter, Gustav. Mental Fatigue in Schools. Rep. of Com. of Ed., 1894-5, 449-460. (Summary of German Observations, especially Kraepelin's.) ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS r^ Scripture, E. W. New Psychology, 22?)-2^-]. (Chapter on Fatigue.) N. Y. Scribners, §1.25. (Describes Mosso's and Lom- bard's experiments.) NERVOUS CONDITIONS Aldrich, Auretta Roys. C/iiidren and Their Critics, N. Y. Harpers, $0.75. (Peculiar Children.) Alexander, H. C. Training and Environment as Correctives of Degeneracy. Medicine, 1896. Allbut, T. C. Nervous Diseases and Modern Life. Eclectic Mag., May, 1895, 645-49. Barr, M. W. Mental Defectives and Social Welfare. Pop. Sc. Mo., April, 1899, 746-759. Bateman, Frederick. The Idiot: His Place i?i Creation. L. 1882. Beach, F. Treatment and Education of Mentally Feeble Chil- dren. London. Beard, G. M. Nervous Exhaustion. Rockwell, §2.00. Bohannon, E. W. Study of Peculiar and Exceptional Children. Ped. Sent., 1S96-7, 3-60. Brigham, A. Injluetice of Mental Culti^uition and E.xcitement upon Health. L. Hatchards, $0.60. Carmichael, Jas. Disease in Children. 520-538. N. Y. Appleton, §3.00. Clouston, T. S. Neuroses of Development. L. Henry Lea Son & Co., §5.00. Corning, J. L. Brain Exhaustion. N. Y. Appleton, $2.00. Cummings, Elizabeth. Public School and Nervous Children. Educational Mag., 1886, Vol. VL 549-554. Dana, C. L. Text Book of Nervous Diseases. N. Y. Wood & Co. Dawson, G. E. Study in Youthful Degenerac}'. Ped. Scm., 1896-7, 221-258. Deland, Margaret. Story of a Child. (Exceptional Children.) Boston. Houghton, $1.00. Dupuy. Eugene. Heredity and Nervous Diseases. Pop. Sc Mo., July, 1877, 332-339- Ellis, Havelock. The Criminal. (Physical and Mental Charac- teristics.) N. Y. Scribners, )?i.25. Farr, Wm. Vital Statistics. Ed. by Noel Humphreys, for THE CHILD 54 LoH. Siuiilary Inst. (J. />'. Vol. XXIV. (Shows relation of degeneracy to sterility and idiocy, etc.) Fay, Edward A. Marriai^c of Deaf in America. Washington, Volta Bureau, S5.00. (Shows relation of deafness to ster- ility and deafness.) Fere, Ch. Morbid Heredity. Pop. Sc. J/f., July, 1895, Vol. XLVII, 3SS-390. (Good. The conditions which lead to morbid heredity and the way to combat them summed up.) Fothergill, J. M. Maintenance of Health. N. Y. Putnam Sons. 1870. (Out of print.) Gower, W. R. Diseases of the Nervous System. Pliil. Blakis- ton, $3.00. Harris, E. Tendency of Misdirected Education of Unbalanced Mind to Produce Insanity. Harris, W. T. Study of Arrested Development as Produced in School Children. Educ, 1900, 453-4^)6. Ireland, W. W. Mental Affections of Children. L. Churchill. (Considers only idiots and feeble-minded ) Knapp, P. C. Influence of Overwork in ScIkjoIs. Boston Med. and Suri^. four., July g, 1S96. 37-39- Krohn, W. Nervous Diseases of School Children. C. S. M., Vol. I, 354. Lonibro.so, Cesare. Man of Genius. N. Y. Scribners, $1-25. (Shows close relation between genius and degeneracy.) MacKenzie, R. L. Influence of School Life on Curvature of the Spine. Proc. N. E. A., 1898, 939-Q48. (Description of proper desk and seat.) MacMillan, M:irgaret. Early Childhood. (Chapters on Feeble- minded Child, Cost of Mental Efi'ort, and Fatigue.) Syra- cuse. C. W. Bardeen. $1.50. (Very simple.) Maudsley, H. Pathology of Mind. Chap. VI, The Insanity of Early Life. N. Y. Appleton, §2.00. Mercier, Chas. A. Psychology, Normal and Morbid. N. Y. Macmillan, $4.00. Monroe, W. S. Cholera among School Children. Am. Phys. Educ. Rev., Mar., 1898, 19-24. Moore. Studies in Fatigue. Studies from Yale Psy. lab., '^o.lW. Nordau, Max. Degeneration. N. Y. Appleton, $3. 50. Ol.son, Marv- D. Cigarette Iwil and the Schools. C S. M., Vol. Ill, 1-12. ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 55 Peckhcim, Grace. Nervousness of Americans. Trans, of III. Soc. C. S., i8S6, 37-49. Rayner, H. Early Recognition and Treatment of Mental Defects in Children. A/ed. Mag., iSgg, 451-461, 591-600. Reynolds, J. R. Influence of Tenement House Life on Nervous Condition of Children. Trans of III. Soc. C. S., Vol. II, 33. (Shows that such children are nervous and precocious, and stop growing sooner than when under good conditions.) Royce, Josiah. Mental Defects and Disorders from Teacher's Point of View. Ed. Rev., June-Dec, 1893, pp. 209, 322, 449. (Very stimulating.) Ru.ssell, E. H. Exceptional Children in School. /:>/. Rci'., VI, 431-442. (Very suggestive.) Shuttleworth, G. E. Menially Deficient Children, Phil. Blak- iston, $1.50. Starr, M. Allen. Familiar Forms of Nervous Disease. N. Y. Wood& Co., §2.50. Stevens, G. T. Funcliotial Nervous Diseases. N. Y. Apple- ton, $2. 50. Sudduth, W. X. Nervous and Backward Children. Trans, of III. Soc. C. S., Vol. I, 354. Tuke, Hack. Dictionary of Psychological Medicine. (See Index, Neurasthenia, etc.) Phil. Blakiston, $10.00. Wilmarth, A. E. Examination of Brains of 100 Feeble-Minded Children. Alienist atid Neurologist, Oct., 1S90. Warner, Francis. Study of Children. (See Index.) N. Y. Mac- millan. §1.00. CHAPTER IV Feelings and Ideas of Sex (If the class is mixed, or is very immature, the teacher may find it wisest to omit class discussion of this subject. It is one, however, which particularly concerns mothers, and a careful con- sideration and discussion of the points made here is urged upon them. The evils here described seem to be more widely spread than many of ns think.) EACH member of the class should write out reminiscences on the foilowini;- points and <^ivc them to the teacher, to illustrate the various points Observa- mentioned in the chapter. No names need tions. be si' laj) watching with an intent and puzzled face the back and side of her grand- mother's head. Grandma turned and chirruped to her and the little one's jaw dropped and her eyebrows went up in an expressiDU of blank surprise. Presently I began to swing her on my foot, and at every pause in the swinging she would sit gazing at the puzzling head till grandma turned or nodded and chirruped; then she would turn away satisfied and want more swinging. . . . At first, amazed to see the coil of silver hair and the curve of cheek turn into grandma's front face, the baby watched for the repetition of the mira- cle till it came to seem natural, and th.e two aspects were firnilv knit together in hvv mind." Preyer tells also of how Axel in his seventh month gasped with astonishment when a fan was opened and shut before him. If we can imagine our own feelings if a table should suddenly begin to disapj^ear and reappear, we can faintly understand his surprise. When we consider that this same process of connect- ing the various aspects of objects has to be gone through with each object, we have a vastly increased respect for the working p(nvers of the baijy's brain! Recognition of visual form grows rapidly, and by the seventh or eighth month we find some babies identi- fying i)ictures, or recognizing the real object from its representation, as with Mrs. Mall's child, who recog- nized a real dog from its likeness to a toy one that stood on the manteli)iece. SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 89 In all this the baljy is ^-ettiiifr his world of thinj^s seen well sc-jjarated from each other and reunited into distinct wholes, but this process is much facilitated when he begins to connect si- recognizini^' the image. In the twenty-sixth week, he repeated this, and com- pared the face with the image, turning from one to the other several times, but he had as yet little distinct memory. In the seventh month, he did not recognize his nurse after an absence of four weeks. Not until thi' forty-third week did he miss his parents when they were absent, or miss a favorite toy when it was gone. Another observer says that one little girl of ten months recognized her father after four days' absence. Perez also quotes the case of a child seven or eight months old who very much wanted a piece of bread that looked like some favorite cake. When he tasted it, he threw it away angrily, showing that he had an image of the taste of the cake, with which the reality did not agree. In the fifty-seventh and fifty-eighth weeks, in look- ing at the image in the mirror and at a picture of him- self, Preyer's boy apparently recognized both and passed his hands to the back of each, much puzzled by the differences he saw. Evidently the memory was becoming more distinct and detailed. In the sixtieth week, he recognized his mother's image as different from the reality. In the sixty-first week, he burned his finger in the candle, after which he never put it in again, though he would jokingly make movements in that direction. The memory image of the pain was well developed, though memories as a rule were not stal)le. In the twenty-third month, he recognized the playthings from which he had been parted nearly three months, which MEMORY 105 pro\'es him well started toward the development of imagination. In these first experiences the baby's memory is a very vague one. As James says, his world is a "big, blooming, buzzing confusion," whose parts Freeing of have to be made distinct from each other memory and shaped into distinct, unified objects. images. One certain experience, like being fed, is repeated under many conditions— now in light, and now in dark- ness, now in one room and now in another. The two constant things, that his mother is always there and that his hunger is always satisfied, by their constant repetition and great satisfaction become impressed upon him, so that he soon recognizes his mothsjr. Take also his recognition of his mother's face. At first certainly it is to him only a light patch against a darker background, moving from one place to another. But as he sees more distinctly and is able to follow it with his eyes, he learns that all the different appear- ances, side and front and back views, belong to his mother's face, and the constant repetition of that face with its accompaniment of increased comfort soon teaches him to recognize it apart from any one place or time. In brief, the memory image becomes freed from memories of any particular time and place by having the one constant experience — the mother's face — in many times and places. This is the usual experience. When psychologists use the term "image," they mean any revival of a former experience in a form distinct enough for us to look at it mentally and describe it. The revival of the sound of a piano, of the color of a sunset, of the taste and smell of coffee, jq(3 the child of the "feci" of velvet, and of the exertion of run- ning or stretching, arc all equally images. If we place in these some definite time when we Memory experienced them, we say the image is a images. ^ ' ^ , • , memory image; while if we combine them in new forms, we approach imagination. Memory images, that is, reproduce our past life in much the same form as we lived it; imagination makes new com- binations. Images are evidently derived in the first place, there- fore, from our sense life; that is, we get our materials of knowledge through the special sense organs— the eye, ear, skin, nose, tongue and the movements of the muscles. The feelings aroused in this way directly by objects, we call sensations or perceptions of sight, sound, touch, smell, taste and movement; and when, in the absence of the object, the sensation or percep- tion is revived or remembered, we have images of sight, sound, etc., or, to use the Latin terms, visual, auditory, tactile, olfactory gustatory and motor images. If you recall your childhood's home, you will prob- ably get good examples of most of these. You can see in your mind's eye the old house, its various rooms and the people in them (visual); you can hear your mother's voice (auditory); you can taste some especial food that she excelled in cooking (gustatory); you can probably smell some characteristic flavor or garden product or perhaps some medicine that you had to take (olfactory); you can feel your mother's kiss or, perhaps, some whipping or spanking you received; and you will probably find that almost all your memories of the place are bound up with your MEMORY 107 feelings of movement about it— climbing trees and hay-mow, and so on. In each person some of these classes of images are much more distinct than others. Usually the visual images are clearest, and are bound up with , • 1- , • ^ i. • Most com- comparatively indistinct motor images. mon types. The auditory come next, and the others are still less prominent. About one person in six has more distinct motor images than visual; and, rarely, we find a person whose touch or smell images are the clearest. When from birth or by accident a child is deprived of any sense organ, the corresponding images grow dim, and usuallv disappear if the accident , , r " , r r A Unusual happened before the age of four years. A ^.^^ggg^ blind person, for instance, blind from three years on, has no images of color or form except what he gets from touch. A deaf person has no sound images. Only with the greatest difficulty can we imagine what the mental life of a Helen Keller must be like. In her Autobiography, in all her descrip- tions, the terms are those of touch, movement and smell, with one or two visual terms almost certainly obtained from her teacher. Can you imagine the enjoyment of music from the jolting of the vibrations of the instrument? Or how it would seem to have your appreciation of flowers determined solely by their perfume and texture? The vast world of pictures and natural scenery is non-existent for her. Of course there is some compensation, for the senses that are left become much more acute, and the images corre- spondingly so, but still it is difficult for us to imagine how we should feel under such conditions. I08 THE CHILD And yet the same differences, although to less degree, exist between ourselves and other persons and ourselves and the children we teach. You, educa^fon^ let us say, are especially a visualist. If you can read a good description in visual terms, or see a diagram or drawing, you can understand a thing perfectly. But this child is a motile. The visual terms call up only shadowy, indistinct images to him, and your diagram is actually confusing. He never would think of representing the facts in that way, and he feels more and more like a stranger in a strange land as he reads on in the book. The audile has much the same experience. Yet neither is a stupid child; each only needs a little help to translate the lesson into his own images. When you remember how much of our school work is predominantly visual, you can see in what hard straits these two classes of children are put. We even invent methods whose whole ten- dency is to throw all the stress of learning upon the visual image. If we consider for a moment, we can see how artifi- cial any such method is. In his daily experience a child never uses one sense alone. A boy with a new marble looks at it, rings it, and tries it in shooting before he feels really acquainted with it. He gets all kinds of impressions from it that he can, and many of them are simultaneous. It is true that some one or two feelings emerge from the others and stand as sym- bols for the rest, but the presence oi the others gives a background and richness of meaning whose impor- tance we do not sufficiently estimate. Take our own experiences — we never can go to an exhibition without being greeted on all sides by requests not to touch MEMORY 109 anything, and how defrauded \vc all feel by such an order is evident from the disregard of it. We say that only a man of the same craft can fully appreciate a certain piece of work, because he can enter into its difficulties and delights — that is, he alone has all the sorts of images that constitute the memory of its making. A woman who has never clone embroidery grumbles at the price she has to pay for it; the one who has done it may not like the price either, but she says the work is worth it — she has the other images that put into the visual image a deeper meaning than the first woman can get. So with the children, let us give them as great a variety of images as possible, while still appealing to the form most clear to each. Present a subject in such various ways that at least one way shall appeal to the visualist, the audile and the motile, and then bind the proper motor expression with it strongly and indissolubly by giving opportunities for expression in some form of handwork. The importance of expression has already been emphasized in various places; here again it comes up as the final test of the clearness of the image and also as the clarifier of the image. In 1885 the experiments of Ebbinghaus on memory were published, in which were stated in an exact and general form facts which before were only vaguely recognized. As later experiment of memory, has confirmed these for children as well as for adults, an account of them is in order here. Ebbinghaus took 2,300 meaningless syllables and shook them together, then, drawing them out haphaz- ard, he made lists of them, varying in length from six to sixteen syllables. These lists were then repeated I lO THE CHILD to the subject in a monotonous voice, at regular inter- vals, until he could reproduce the list correctly. A very large number of experiments was made thus, and elaborate precautions were taken to eliminate the effects of fatigue, of association, of health, etc. As the outcome, Ebbinghaus was able to formulate certain laws thus: 1. A long list requires more than a proportionate number of repetitions before it is memorized, e.g.^ a list of seven syllables required but one repetition; one of twelve, seventeen repetitions; one of sixteen, thirty repetitions. 2. Poetry, into which enter associations of sense and rhythm, requires but one-tenth as many repetitions as the nonsense syllables. 3. There is an unconscious or what we have called an organic memory, for even when a list previously learned is so forgotten that it is not recognized, it requires but two-thirds of the original number of repe- titions to relearn it. 4. Forgetting proceeds thus: After I hour, more than one-half the original work must be done in relearning the list. After 8 hours, two-thirds of the original work. After 24 hours, about two-thirds of the original work. After 6 days, three-fourths of the original work. After I month, four-fifths of the original work. That is, forgetting occurs much more rapidly dur- ing the first eight hours than afterward, and after one week occurs so slowly that it is hardly perceptible except over a long lapse of time. This shows the great value to the teacher of reviewing each day the previous MEMORY I I I clay's lesson, in order to find out how much her pupils are likely to retain permanently. 5. When once learned, a long series is retained better than a short one. 6. When many repetitions are necessary, distribution of them over a longer period of time lessens the number. For instance, a series of twelve syllables required thirty-eight repetitions when distributed over four days; but sixty-four when the repetitions were consecutive. 7. Associations are formed between all the members of a series, so that even if the order is changed, the series is more easily learned than at first. The strength of the association is less when moving backward than forward; and less for members of the series farther off than for the nearer ones. Mr. Jacobs and Mrs. Bryant took up one of the details of Ebbinghaus's work and experimented with school children to ascertain how long a series could be learned with one repetition; how the span of memory {i.e., the length of series thus learned) varied with age, and what relation it bore to the pupil's rank in school. They used digits, omitting 7, and letters, omitting w, as more uniform in sound than nonsense syllables. They give the following table for the span of girls. Age No, girls No. nos. No. let'rs 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 i3 8 13 19 36 41 42 42 72 66 50 30 6.6 6.7 6.8 7.2 7-4 7.3 7-3 7.7 8 8 8.6 6 7 6.6 4.6 6.5 6.7 6.7 7.4 7.9 7.3 8.2 19 14 8.6 8.9 This shows that the span increases with age. They found also that the children with the largest spans were usually those whom the teachers classed as their I 12 THE CHILD best students, although there were some exceptions. Bolton also found that the highest span is a measure of the power of attention; but he puts the limit of the memory span for numbers as six for public school pupils. The span for girls is also higher than for boys. All observers find that the girls' memory is better than the boys'. Finally, Kirkpatrick experimented upon pupils from the primary grade through college to find what kind of memory images were best held. To do this, he first made three lists, two of ten words each, and one of common objectSy avoiding associations as much as possi- ble. One list was read to the pupils; the words of the second were shozvn one by one upon the board; and the objects named in the third list were shown. The pupils were then asked to write out as many words in each list as possible. It was found that 6.85 words out of the ten in the list heard wqxq recalled; 6.92 of the ten in the list seeji ; and 8.28 of Vat objects seen; that is, the audi- tory memory was poorest; the visual memory of the word next, and the memory of the object itself the best. The memory of the college students was but two words better than that of the primary children. They were then given three more lists of words. The first consisted of names of sounds, and the pupils were asked to think of the sound; the second, of names of colors, or lights and shades, and they were asked to think of them; the third, of names of objects, and they were asked to recall the object. They were then asked to write out the lists. The results show that 6.98 names out of the ten in the first list were recalled; 7.91 of the ten in the second; and 7.48 of the ten in the MEMORY 113 third. That is, the visual images of colors, or lights and shades were slightly better than the auditory images of sounds, or the memories of objects. After three days, they were asked to write out what they could recall of the first three lists, with the start- ling result that .91 of list two, and 6.29 of list three were recalled. That is, while the visual memory- average of the words had declined to less than one word, from the original 6.92, the memory-average of the object itself was lessened only by two from that immediately after the experience. There could hardly be a stronger illustration of the superiority of things to words in early education, and of the activity of the senses and its effects upon memory. Kirkpatrick's experiments can hardly be considered tests of the pure auditory and visual word images, for any word has numberless associations with it that modify our image and memory of it. The experiments where numbers or letters or nonsense syllables were used to exclude associations, show that with younger children pure auditory memories are stronger than pure visual; while with adults the reverse is the case. , As the child grows, characteristic interests arise 'and control his memories. The best memory for boys — 42 per cent — is in the first year of high school; for girls, the maximum of 47 per Effect of age cent is also in high school; the poorest on memory, memories for both boys and girls, 17 and 18 per cent, are in the third grade. Negroes and white children seem to be nearl)' equal as to mere memory. Taking into consideration interest as well as age, it has been found* that during the period from one to ♦Colegrove. 114 THE CHILD five, visual, auditory and motor memories are very prominent. From the fifth to the ninth year, the motor memories of girls increase markedly but decrease from ten on ; in boys, they increase slowly from five on, culmi- nating at fifteen. In both cases we trace directly the effect of habits of life. Girls, after the tenth year, usually exercise much less freely than before, while boys after that age constantly increase the amount of exercise. From ten to eleven both boys' and girls' memories for near relatives increase; and from twelve to thirteen decrease, but increase for all acquaintances, marking the entrance into wider social relationships so charac- teristic of adolescence. Between fourteen and fifteen, the visual and auditory memories of both increase greatly and also memories of places, doubtless mark- ing the beginning of a wider esthetic sense. If the above statements are correct, is it not a mis- take to postpone manual training, sewing and so on, to the high school age? Should we not ap^Tcatrns. '^'^'-' P^^ them at the time when the motor brain regions are so active as this abundance of memories proves them to be? Again, what is to be done with the child of the third grade, when memory is comparatively poor? We saw before that this is one of the periods of rapid growth. Is it a time when school work should be lightened? That the auditory memories are best in children under four- teen, points to the value of beginning the study of lan- guages early, and any work that demands memorizing and has little reasoning connected with it. With adults, the best way to memorize is to get a system or theory around which memories can cluster. With the child MEMORY TI5 this plan too should be followed, but committing to memory is much easier than with adults. Finally, the widening of memories for friends and esthetic objects between fourteen and fifteen, points to the importance of widening the child's experience in both these lines. In all cases, we seem to see the close connection between interests and memory. In a former chapter we spoke of the elTect of fatigue and health upon memory, showing that in proportion as health was poor or fatigue was great, conditions memory diminished. Health and freshness of good are, then, two conditions for a good mem- "memory, ory. On the mental side, to train a child's memory, take up a subject when his memory for that class of things is best and so present it that he shall feel its close connection with his own life and shall be on the qui vive to get information about it. Knowledge so obtained has many interconnections and holds together well. No other will endure. Mothers and teachers not infrequently find certain mental peculiarities in their children that they do not know the significance of and are in doubt how to treat. Among these are "colored ^nditi^ons. hearing," and number, word and time forms. Quite a large proportion of people connect certain colors with certain sounds, or with certain words or letters. The high notes of a violin may seem pale blue; the resonant trumpet tone, blood red, and so on. Each letter of the alphabet may have its characteristic color, or all the vowels, or only names of persons. It is practically impossible in many cases to find the origin of these various associations, but they may go back to very early memories, or they may be due to unusual ii6 THE CHILD congenital connections between the brain-centers con- cerned. They do not mark any mental abnormality, and it is not wise to ridicule a child who has them. To him they are perfectly nat- ural. Number, calentlar and alphabet forms are much more com- mon. It is estimated I20 US u'o '' /' : '' i eo 50 .oo Diagram 5. Number Form of Mr. Walter Lakden, Form- erly of Cheltenham College, England. The Faint Lines Are TO Show THE Phrsprctive. (Galton.) that of men one-sixth to one- fifteenth pos- sess some kind of form, and of children and women a larj^cr proportion. In all such cases, the nuni- diagram 6. an HiiUEDnARV Nimuer Ki>rm bers davs or letters common to a brother and sister, (galton.j are arranged in a definite form in which the person always sees them. The diagram may be colored or MEMORY not. Several forms are shown in Diagrams 5 to 10. form is the same for the same person from year to It seems so necessary to the person that he can h imagine how he could do without it. It varies from the sim- plest arrangement to exceedingly com- plex ones of definite shapes, in which each number has its place. Herealsothe origin 117 This year, ardly / \ rf/ vf^ /"7 \V\ / °* / L\ / ''® ■ r\ / 001 ■ lo \ 9 10 11 10 Diagram 7. Number F(jkm uf Prof. Schuster, an English Physicist. The Numbers Are on a Kind of Horsb Shoe Lying on a Slightly Inclined Plane. (Galton.) Diagram 8. A Complex Num- ber Form Made Up of Dots Running Up TO 1,000. In 10, etc., THE Odd Dot May Ap- pear at Any gpthe Corners Marked X. (Galton.) is difficult to trace. In some cases it seems to be heredi- tary — several successive generations having the same form. In others, its origin is hidden in obscurity. As with the colored hearing, it does not mark any abnor- mality, and the best policy is to leave it alone. On Diagram 9. An Hereditary' Number Form SHcnviNG Peculiarities which Runthrough A Whole Family. (Galton.) ii8 THE CHILD the other hand, one attempt at least has been made to teach a number form to all children, but the wisdom of this is questionable. The material for memories comes throu^di the various sense organs and takes the form of sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, and motor images. Of these, the visual motor and auditory motor are the most common forms, although we find occa- sional cases, especially among the deaf and blind, where touch and smell are the most prominent. Usually, Summary. DiACiKAM lO. Nl-MIIEK FoKM OF A CJF.NTLKMEN WHO I.KAKNEI) TO TELL THE TiME AT A Vekv Eaklv Ac;e. The Most Prominent Ntmbeks Ake Those Found IN THE Multiplication Taiu.e, Esi-eciai.ly 12. (Galton.) there is more or less combination of all the forms in memory, just as there is combined use of most of the senses in ordinary experience, and hence it is use- ful to give a child all sorts of sense experiences. He thereby gains a valual)le background of images upon which he can depend if any one image is at fault. Memories of individual experiences do not usually go back of the fourth year, but experiences previous to that age leave their mark on temperament and feelings. The vividness of memories at any age varies with the condition of health and the interests of that age. MEMORY REFERENCES 119 MEMORY Aikin, C. Methods of Mind Training. N. Y. Am. Book, $r.oo. Bolton, T. L. Growth of Memor>' in School Children. Am. /our. Psy., Vol. IV, 362-380. Burnham, W. H. Memory. Am. Jour, of Psy., Vol. II, 568-622. Colegrove, F. W. Individual Memories. Am. Jour. Psy., Jan., 1899, Vol. X, 228-255. (Good.) Compayre, G. hitellectual and Moral Development of the Child. Chapter on Memory. N. Y. Appleton, §1.50. Ebbinghau.s, H. Ueber das Geddchtniss. Summarized in Burn- ham's article. (See above.) Lpz. Duncker& Humblot, 1885. Hall, G. S. Early Memories. Fed. Sem., VI, 4S5-512. Hartog, M. Interpolation in Memory. Conteinp. Rev., 1900, Vol. LXXVIII, 532-539- Hawkins, C. J. Experiments in Memory Types. Psy. Rev., IV. Herrick, C. L. Propagation of Memories. Psy. Rev., IV, 294. Kirkpatrick, E. A. An Experimen*^al Study of Memory. Psy. Rev., I, 602-609. Perez, B. First Three Years of Childhood. 1 21-130. Syracuse. Bardeen, §1.50. Preyer, W. Senses and Will. See Index. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. Ribot, Th. Diseases of Memory. N. Y. Appleton, §1.50. Shaw, J. C. Memory of School Children. Ped. Sefn., IV, 61-78. Stetson, G. R. Memory Tests on Whites and Blacks. Psy. Rev., IV, 285-289. Talbot, Ellen B. Attempt to Train Visual Memory. Am. four. Psy., Vol. VIII. (Account of rather artificial training.) NUMBER FORMS Colkins, M. W. Am. Jour. Psy., Vol. V, 269-271. Galton, Francis. Inqjiiries into Huma7i Facility. Section on Number Forms. L. Macmillan, §4.00. Hornbrook, Adelia R. Pedagogical Value of Number Forms. Educ. Rev., May, 1893, Vol. V, 467-480. Krohn, Wm. O. Pseudochronosthesia. Am. Jour. Psy.,Vo\. V, 20-38. (Historical resume and bibliography good.) Patrick, G. T. W. Number Forms. Pop. Sc. Mo., Feb., 1893. Phillips, D. E. Genesis of Number Forms. Atn. Jour. Psy., July, 1897, Vol. VIII, 506-527. (Good.) CHAPTER VII Imagination 1. Collect instances in which a child's dream has creatc-d a lasting fear. Be sure that the fear did not exist Observa- previous to the dream. Collect instances tions. where the dream created pleasure. Are such cases likely to be as common as the other? Why? 2. Observe in some one child whether this order is followed in the growth of imagination: (i) Recalling and telling some experience of his own. (2) Listening to stories told him. (3) Inventing new stories himself. 3. Collect instances of the personification of inani- mate objects. Did the children believe the object to be alive or not? 4. If you know of any case of an imagmary play- mate, describe it full)', noting especially the age of the child when it began; how long it lasted; sex of child antl of playmate; whether father or mother had such a ])laymate. 5. Collect statistics from school children on the fol- lowing points. Get the age, sex and grade of each child on his paper. In getting such data, to secure free utterance, it is a good plan to tell the children not to put their names on their papers. (i) If you coultl be to-day just what you want to be, what would you choose? Why? (2) What do you want to be when you are grown up? Why? 120 IMAGINATION 12 1 Various sensations leave their traces on the baby's brain, and as persons and objects move about him, he learns by degrees to connect their various aspects with each other, that is, he learns ^^°naUon. to perceive objects instead of merely receiv- ing sensations. Next, after he perceives objects as wholes, or while he is learning so to perceive them, comes recognition of them, and finally distinct memory images of them and desires for them when they are absent. Thus the baby arrives at a consciousness, though still vague and irnperfect, of his past as well as of his present. He is no longer confined to a now, but looks backward to a then. As his memory images become more stable, they also become freed from definite time and place associ- ations. His experiences with chairs, tables, father and mother, and so on, have been so numerous that his image of a chair or table, is not of his use of it at some one time and place, but of it in an indefinite time and place setting. He may have the definite setting, but he need not. In this way, the memory images become more flexible and subject to his wiU, and pres- ently we find him making alterations, picturing himself as doing something this morning that he has not done for a month; making little plans of what he will do after dinner, and in such ways showing his power to manage his images. Then suddenly he becomes con- scious of his power, and forthwith launches boldly out into a riotous sea of imaginings. Sometimes, indeed, he becomes swamped, or on the other hand he mistakes his buoyant fancies for the dry land of facts, but by degrees he learns to control them, and to see their lim- itations. 122 THE CHILD At first, however, his new combinations are very inconspicuous, and more or less accidental. Perez thinks that they are first formed spontane- Spontaneous -^ . i- u i- new com- ously, especially in sleep. Some slight dis- binations. turbance of the circulation, or change in the brain, may lead to the establishment of new con- nections—connections which cause new, grotesque, or pleasing mental combinations. I think we may safely say that the growth of the association fibers in the first months of life would lead to such new combina- tions, without any effort of will on the child's part. These spontaneous combinations will be found, though to less degree, as the child grows older, and doubtless give suggestions for the voluntary combinations that the child begins to form between the second and third years. There can be little question that such combina- tions do occur in dreams, and that they seriously affect the waking life of many children. Mr. James gives a dream of his little girl as illustrative. She woke with a scream saying that a dog had bitten her, and for months afterward she had spasms of terror at the sight of a dog, although up to that time she had liked them. I myself have a little friend who woke crying that an elephant was in the room and was going to eat her. Her mother said that for weeks she would not go into the room alone even in the daytime, and even after six months she would not sleep there. If such occur- rences are at all commf)n, we can see how easily a child can live in a world wholly different from that known to us, and how, if his images in sleeping life -are vivid enough, he may confuse them with reality. There seems to be little that one can do with such an unfortunate dream excci)t as far as possible to make IMAGINATION 123 the child realize that it was only a dream and nothing to be afraid of. The systematic forming of new combinations by the child occurs first in listening to stories, but this does not come until after he has learned to Systematic tell little stories of his own life — what he forming of has seen on his walk, what he did at ^©^ com- , TT r • • 1 binations. grandma s, and so on. He forms vivid images of these stories, as is shown by his insisting upon the same words and facts in the story every time they are told. Only after this does he begin to invent stories of his own, but once started, he carries his story-telling to great lengths. The stories, like all his other fancies, are improbable and inconsistent to us, but not so to him, with his narrow experience. There is nothing incredible to him about the hole in a stone being the abode of fairies or about living in the water with the fish, and so he both accepts and invents fairy tales and myths with equanimity. As his experience widens and he learns more of the world about him, his wild imaginings give way to others that are more in agree- ment with fact, and so less conspicuous. It may be partly true also that a child's fancies are so unbridled because his perceptions are indistinct, and so he can read into them whatever he pleases without seeing any discrepancy with what is before him. In this connection it is worth noticing that the same child who can be so wildly imaginative, finds great difficulty in framing a clear image from a description. He has not the power of concentration necessary for this. ^fi/iv There seems to be at times a real illusion in these ^ fancies. The child will lose himself in them for the 124 THE CHILD moment. The- fancy is so real and cli\ides from the object itself so gradually that often he can not say where one ends and the other begins. He always starts with some actual object and proceeds to adorn it wMth his fancy, usually giving it cjualities suggested by its likeness to other things. As persons interest children most, they tend to per- sonify all objects. The number of pretty and pathetic illustrations of this is infinite. The stupid Personifica- i^.^t^^g ^f ^^le alphabet are made into per- sons, and the child talks to "dear old W," L is sitting down, and I'" and ^ are facing each other and talking. The most prolonged case of such personification is given by Miss M. C. Whiting. Each number up to 12 had a distinct personality for her, and the various com- binations of them in arithmetic made the subject most fascinating. She began this at the age of eight, and continued it for four years, taking it for granted that other people thought in the same way. The various combinations are made by the numbers acting in various ways, thus: 8 is so angry that she puts thoughtless 5 into 13. Here he stays until kind g . rescues him and helps him into 14. 2 helps 6 and forces him into 12, a kind of prison. 8 finds 6 here, and puts him into 14, which is pleasant but beneath his dignity. 7 is already there by the aid of 2, and 8 hurls him into 15, a dungeon. 5 had already got himself here by the unintended moves of 3, but he persuades 4 to pity him and put him into 20, a most desirable station; and so on to I2x 12. Jean Ingelow tells us that when she was a little girl she was sure that stones were ali\-e, and she felt very IMAGINATION 125 sorry for them because they always had to stay in one place. When she went walking she would take a little basket, fill it with stones and leave them at the farthest point of the walk, sure that they were grateful to her for the new view. Another little girl thought that the leaves were alive, and autumn was a mournful time to her because the leaves all had to die. Moving things are likely to be personified, especially if they are noisy. Machinery, engines and steamers are ter- rific personalities to the little child. But he also per- sonifies his moving toys, his ball and his hoop. Even a sliding cushion was given life by one small boy. It seems odd to us that children should think of such things as grozving, but a goodly number of them do. Naturally enough, children attribute solidity to all objects at first, and so we find them trying to pick up the sunbeams. One little girl wants to wash the smoke and get it nice and white; and another wants to see the wind. When the wind was blowing strongly toward a neighboring town, one little child said he would like to go too because there must be so much wind there. Along with this personifying of all objects is the ten- dency to look upon them all as made for the use of people or even of the child. One little girl thought that the flowers opened to please her, and that the sun came out to light her. It is very difficult in all such cases to know how far a child is accepting literally the figurative statements of other people, and how far he is imagining. It is equally hard to draw the line between imagina- tion and reason. Thus, if a child sees a certain object, his fancy at once forms pictures of how the object came to be what it is. For example, one little child, met a lame tramp on his walk and at once began to J T^ THE CHILD tell his mother that the tr.-imj:) had been "riding on a big high horse, and the horse had jumped and thrown him off and hurt his leg." Another little Imagination j-^.j^.^y ^;^^^. the bumblebee industriously and reason. i i i • buzzing in the wuitlow, and told his mother that it was asking for a lump of sugar. Then he addressed the bumbU-bee and told him that the sugar would give him cramps. The transition from fancy to reason is clear in the case of the tramp. The i)icture of the horse is the child's e.\i)lanation of how it might come about that the tramp was lame. The induction docs not seem to be different in nature from the working hypothesis of the scientist. It is also often difficult to distinguish between the playfulness of the imagination and lying. A child will sometimes come home and reel off Imagination ^^ stories about what he has been doing and lying. ^ . , and seeing, which have little or no truth in them. This tendency will last for months at a time. The thing one should look for in such a case is the motive. Does the child ?V//tv/c/ to deceive you or is he just pla\-ing with images, and asking you to play too? One way to find out is to respond to his story with some pretended doings of your own, confessing at the end that it was only play, and asking him if his story was not also. If in some way like this he is reminded that his ideas are not like the facts, he will usually outgrow the tendency. ()nl>- tin,' intention to deceive is dangerous, and this we shall speak of shortly. Loneliness, distance, and mystery are great stimu- lants to a child's fancy. Probal)ly most children have fictitious characters with whom they play at times, but the imaginary playmate reaches its fullest development IMAGINATION 127 in the child who plays alone. It is not uncommon to find that such a child has created for himself an invisible companion who is with him most of the time, and who remains in existence i™*sinary ' _ playmates, for two or three years. This companion has a name and a definite appearance and is a source of much comfort, as well as, frequently, the alleged reason for much misconduct. "Bokman made me do that, mamma," is the reason sometimes given b)'- one little girl that I know. Or, "Bokman is wearing her blue dress, can't I wear mine?" It is frequently the case that the tendency to create such companions is hereditary. Usually when a child begins school, or gets absorbed in outside things, the companion fades away, but I know of one case in which it has persisted up to middle life. The distant world, the world beyond the hills, or at the end of the rainbow, or above the clouds, is the source of many childish wonderings and imaginings. I remember that in that Distance and *=> , ^^ mystery, charming story "The Golden Age," there is an account of one picture in a book that was a source of constant questionings by the children. There was a hill beyond which church spires could be seen, and ships were sailing around a bend of the river into the city. One day in a friend's house they found a book with pictures of the town. What joy was theirs really to see what they had wondered over so long! The degree to which these fancies may be carried, and the amount of reality necessary to bolster up the imagination, varies greatly. Sometimes a child may be urged to greater flights by a little make-believe on our parts. For instance, in playing store with a 9 128 THE CHILD little <^"irl t)f fix'c, I said I wanted some blue ribbon. She answered that they were out (^f it, but I pointed under a box cover and said, "Why, no, Vividness ' there is some." The box cover was green. "No," she said, "that ribbon is green. " I persisted that there was blue ribbon under the cover, and took the cover away, pointing to the brown couch beneath, and saying, "See, there is blue ribbon." "No," she said, "that is brown ribbon, don't you see it is brown?" But presently, as I still persisted, she accepted my view, pre- tended there was blue ribbon, and taking it up — a purely imaginary ribbon — brought it to me. The relation of invention to imagination here is most interesting. So far we have been discussing what may be called fancy. Chance association and personal feeling control the mind, and the child is more or less con- Invention. . , ,. . , . , scious or the unreality or ins mental rov- ings. We find a different state of affairs, however, when we turn to invention. The account of this will fol- low Baldwin. Let us go back, for the beginning of the child's inventions, to his imitations, and study the method of persistent imitation. In repeating a move- ment again and again, a child is constantly omitting some movements, putting in others, and so learning new ones. Now, just in proportion as a child gets skill in reproducing the copy that he set out to imitate, his attention can play about the movements he is making and introduce untried combinations, which result in something new or advantageous to himself. These changes may be accidental at first, but the sense of mas- tery that they give is a strong incentive to trying others, and so there is constant experimenting, modifying of old situations and stories, and intense enjoyment of the IMAGINATION j2Q results. Baldwin gives as illustrative of the process an invention of Helen's. She began by copying with her blocks a church from her picture book. When she had it partly done, she saw that it could be altered a little and finished as an animal, which she forthwith did. This is typical of the inventive process, and is an important step in the child's development, because it teaches him that he has control over objects — that he is not limited to the mere imitation, but can make a new world of his own. From the teacher's standpoint, the close connection between this creation and imi- tation is important to note. The most imitative child may be the most imaginative. When a child has made such an invention, the next thing is to show it to an admiring world, to get social approval, and this also is typical of all minds. If others will not accept his wonderful creation, if they criticize or laugh at it, he is forced to modify his enthusiasm of it — to change it so that it will meet with general approval and use. The possibility of using his invention in his relations with others is thus a child's final test of his creation, and a spur to new efforts. The desire to have control of the situation, or to escape unpleasant surroundings, doubtless underlies this. Many so-called lies illustrate the same point. Bald- win gives another example here. Helen was bringing some packages to him from the hall and became tired before they w^ere all brought in"^eiition -' *=• and lying, in. She brought them more and more slowly and finally stopped before him and said, "No more." Now, as she became tired, Baldwin says, the thought of her delight when the task was finished and of the praise she would receive from her father, I30 THE CHILD became more and more prominent. With this was the consciousness that she would tell hor father when she was through. From this consciousness it was a short step to the thought that by telling him at once that there were no more she would be praised and relieved. That is, simply to escape from an unpleasant situa- tion, she invented a situation which would give her the desired results, without any sense of wrongdoing. Many of the first lies of children, where they are not purely imaginative, are of this sort, and should be care- fully dealt with, because they grow into deliberate lying. They usually occur like this one, because they are of use to a child in some way. The best way to deal with them must vary according to the disposition of the child. He must in one way or another learn that social disapproval always follows such an act, because if people generally lied, social life could not exist. On the other hand, when he has done any kind of wrong, the treatment of him should be such as to induce repentance instead of fear, so that the next time he does wrong he will not be tempted to lie to escape punishment. Where there is confidence and wise government, the lie problem will not be so press- ing a one as where there is fear and too great restric- tion. To prevent lies, then, there should be cultivated most carefully in a child the courage to take the con- sequences of his acts, and the confidence that he will always be justly treated and understood. Finally, we come to the most practical use of imag- ination that any of us make — the planning of our career. About five thousand children have been ques- tioned as to what they would like to do when they are grown up and what part they would like to take in the IMAGINATION 131 life about them. The close connection between imagi- nation and imitation is seen here. The occupations are necessarily chosen from the lives that the j^^^^^ hopes children know, and out of the whole list andambi- suggested the boys mention two-thirds to ^°°^' three-quarters of the entire number. As one girl puts it, "There are not many things for a girl to be." The following table shows the occupations mentioned most frequently. Where two figures are given, they show the variation between different reports; where but one, agreement or but one report.* Occupation Girls Teacher Dressmaker Milliner Music teacher Musician Artist Housekeeper Nurse Servant Wife and mother Missionary Factory hand Bookkeeper Typewriter Clerk or stenographer . . Trades (Taylor's estimate, 1490 boys) — Engineer Carpenter Blacksmith Machinist Merchant, business man or storekeeper Farmer Minister Doctor Lawyer Sailor Railroad man ♦The table is based on the figures of Taylor and Monroe, with iome data from Chandler and Darrah. 132 THE CHILD This tabic represents the average for all ages, but we find certain changes in choice between seven and fifteen that should be noticed. Thus the choice of teaching varies from 41 per cent at seven years, and 58 per cent at nine years to 20 per cent at eleven years. Milliner and dressmaker choices out- number those of teaching at thirteen and fourteen years and only then, pointing to an increased interest in dress. With boys, trades seem to be the most popular between seven and nine and clerkships between ten and twelve. The choice of a business career appears at eight, that of a sailor's life at nine, and both increase slowly, but steadily. These variations in the choice of profession at different ages are shown in more detail in Mr. Jegi's table of two thousand eight hundred poor German children. The table is given in per cents. Boys Years Carpenter . Merchant . , Bookkeeper Farmer. .. . Engineer . . . Machinist . , Clerk Fireman. . . . Sailor Officer Soldier .... 21% 26% ig II 10 13 12 3 II 2 4 3 6 9 8 2 7 3 9 10 10 ID II 12 13 14 22% 22% 17% 10% 6% 16 13 7 12 15 II 15 5 15 23 9 15 9 10 18 8 9 20 10 10 2 4 7 1 8 23 I 10 13 12 12 18 8 4 2 4 9 4 12 6 12 IQ 6 5 10 8 8 9 8 2 2 Total No. Choosing Father's Profession 113 (^7 3 14 14 -4 '7 6 I 2 o IMAGINATION Girls Years Clerk Teacher Dressmaker Housekeeper . . . . Music teacher .. . . Milliner Bookkeeper Typewriter s 9 10 II 12 13 17% 22% 24% 19% 25% 35% 88 91 64 63 77 33 27 qi 36 57 48 63 56 34 32 32 28 22 o 3 12 12 12 27 8 7 4 10 10 8 I 4 12 3 7 o 2 2 8 3 7 14 16% 14 II 9 22 II The reasons for choice may be given as follows: Girls Like it Fitness for work Money Easy Philanthropy Parents' or relations' occupation pleasant Demand for this work Pleasant Opportunity for travel As Mr. Monroe gives the table it is: Girls Like it Money Easy Philanthropy Parents' or relations' occupation pleasant Miscellaneous or no answer Both tables agree in emphasizing the importance of the child's liking and his desire to earn money in deciding his choice. Indeed, the desire to earn money is so prominent that we can not but believe that our 134 THE CHILD mercenary age is influencing our children far too much. It seems dreadful that as man\' children, not adults but children, should feel the need of earning The money money, as feel free to follow their own motive. -^ ' liking. Indeed, the most marked feature of all those observations is that so few of the chil- dren go beyond the range of the commonplace in their choice of a life work. The shades of the prison- house have already closed about them. They do not feel free and conscious that the world is theirs for the choosing. Most of them look forward to a life of hard work — household drudgery or ditch digging. Are they not loaded with the burdens of adult life too soon? Money is the strongest motive for choice at every age from seven up to fourteen, when the adolescent asserts himself and chooses a profession because he likes it, or because his father or uncle is so and so. Mr. Jegi's figures of the German children, however, show that most of them, while choosing a humble profession, choose it because they like it, and that the money motive decreases instead of increasing with age. The desire to earn a living appears at the age of seven, and this motive, growing in definiteness and dek;rmining the occupation, such as teach- °*^?^ in[r,\:)ecause it gives good pay, increases motives. "' '^ '^ 1 ^ ' until it makes 25 per cent of the choices at the age of twelve. There is also a growing appreciation of the disagree- able side of all work, and of the demand for each sort. Altruistic motives are not prominent until the eleventh year, when 10 per cent of the choices are determined by the desire to help support the family. At twelve, plans to help the poor, to convert the IMAGINATION I^^ heathen, etc., appear, and rise to their highest point at fourteen. In observations upon four hundred and fifty chil- dren from kindergarten through eighth grade, Misses Sheldon and Hamburgher found a marked difference between the character of the Present and future wish for the present, and for the future desires. when they were grown up. Contrary to what we should expect, i6 per cent chose the improb- able for the present, but only one-eightieth of one per cent chose it for the future. The contrast is very funny in some cases. Thus one child, if she could have her wish, would be a rose in a garden to-day; but when grown, a teacher; another would be a bird now, but a dressmaker when grown; one boy of ten would be (of all things!) an angel now, but a doctor by-and-by. It was also quite noticeable that when asked what they would choose for themselves and for another, they chose the more probable thing for self and let their fancy free on the other— bed-room slippers for self, and a diamond ring for the mother. Or is it possible that to the child the two things are on the same plane of values? Why should a child choose the improbable for to-day, and become so matter-of-fact over the future? Is it because the futility of to-day's choice appeals to him so that he lets his fancy roam? It would be worth while to get returns from more children to see whethei this difference is constant, and whether it is more marked with the older children than with the younger. The character of the hopes which control childish acts is seen from another standpoint in an inquiry into chil- dren's motives for planting seeds. Among the boys, materialistic purposes increased from 56 per cent ai J -25 THE CHILD ei}:,^ht to 75 per cent at fourteen, and in the i^irls from 47 per cent at eii^Mit to 57 per cent at fourteen. Between T. *», »• ^ eight and fourteen, the esthetic idea de- Esthetic and *> ' material creased among the boys from 50 per cent ideas. ^^ 28 per cent and among the girls from 54 per cent to 44 per cent. Altruistic motives fluctuate in the boys, from 10 per cent at eight, and 25 per cent at twelve, to 15 per cent at fourteen. In the girls, on the other hand, they increase steadily, from 18 per cent at eight to 60 per cent at fourteen. Considering the ideal person whom the child would be, we find that with little children his traits are bor- rowed chiefly from father, mother or friend, and very seldom from literature or history; while with sixteen-year-old boys and girls, historical characters lead, followed by those from liter- ature, and a very few from among friends or parents. Washington and Lincoln are the heroes of both boys and girls, and the girls'ideals as a rule emphasize quali- ties essentially masculine. The following table shows the most common ideal at- tributes and their influence at different ages, in per cents. The cLild's ideal. Goodness Goodness to self or class Truth and honesty Appearance Striking quality Feminine accomplishments Intellectual power Bravery and adventurous qualities Discoverer of invention Patriotism Leadership Wealth 7 Ye.^rs 25% 27 4 3 12 12 3 5 2 o 4 10 12 Years 23% 4 9 3 I I 10 19 I 6 13 o 15 Years 22% o 10 4 o o 12 13 o 10 18 2 IMAGINATION 137 Notice how the idea of a class goodness and the love of showy or striking qualities disappear in the older children. On the other hand the admiration of truth and honesty has far too small a percentage throughout. The more general question of what children would choose to have for self and others, brought out this result:* Concrete things Knowledge .... Health Companionship Happiness Virtue With age there was a slight increase in the choice of abstract qualities. Now is it not a pity, that children and young people should be on the whole so prosy and confined to real •ife as these children are? We hear a great „ . ^ Use and deal about the abuse of imagination, the abuse of danger of day-dreams and castles in Spain, imagination, and the moral obliquity involved in presenting fairy tales and myths to children. There is, of course, a real danger her£, lest in playing with ideas, a child forget realities, but in view of this collection of ideals bor- rowed so directly from the everyday life of thousands of children, the danger of our becoming a nation of dreamers does not seem to be nearly as imminent as that of our becoming a nation of money lovers and materialists, satisfied with present conditions. Will *Misses Mary L. Sheldon and Rae Hamburgher's unpublished data from four hundred and fifty children in the Chicago schools. The children were all from the "poorer districts." I -.g THE CHILD children with such ideals ever become creators? Will they turn out to be artists, poets, inventors, or even signal successes in the conduct of any large enterprise? Hardly. Instead of abusing the imagination by exercising it too much on useless things, we are abusing it by not ifemploying it to raise and elevate our lives from year to year. There is no stronger power for good than a vivid and noble ideal. It is the air and water for the beautiful character that grows from the soil of prosaic surroundings. Even putting the question on practical grounds, no business can be successfully conducted unless the man at the head can imagine clearly the consequences of this or that move. He must be able to picture how his customers will like this new fabric; how he can best introduce it, and so on. Imagination, in short, is the pattern of the web of life. It is the shaping force without which the universe would be a chaos. We should say then, that abuse of the im.ag- ination is possible only when images do not finally turn back into our life and change it in some way. With this one limitation, we can not encourage the free use of images too much. We have already seen that imagination is based upon memory images. In proportion as those are clear and distinct, will the material of imagination be Trainmgof ^ maiiiuulate. There is, however, no imagination. ■' ' .11 reason for using this material and so settmg imagination to work, unless a child's curiosity is roused by something that he does not understand. W'hen he asks himself a question and sets about finding the answer, imagination begins to work, and it may end in an invention like the telephone; a theory like the IMAGINATION 139 REFERENCES nebular hypothesis, or a picture like the Sistine Madonna. The necessary thing in all cases is the arousing of a keen curiosity or interest, which is per- manent enough to keep the questioner at it until he has an answer. To cultivate the imagination, there- fore, cultivate far-reaching enthusiasms and interests. Barnes, Earl. Childish Ideals. A". W. Mo., Oct, ligS, gi-g3. , - Binet, A. Mental Imager}'. Fortnightly Rev., July, 1892, *^ 3 95-104. (Summary of Galton; popular account of images.) Bryan, W. L. Eye and Ear Mindedness. Proc. Intern. Cong. Ed., 1893. Burnham, W. Individual Differences in Imagination of Children, Ped. Sem., 1892, 204-225. Canton, Wm. Invisible Playmate. Chicago. Stone, $1.00. Chalmers, Lillian H. Studies in Imagination. Ped. Sem., 1900, 111-123. (Suggestive.) Chamberlain, A. F. The Child: A Study in the Evolution of Man. 83-86, 324-327. L. Scott, $1.50. Chandler, K. A. Children's Purposes. C. S. M., 1897-98, 136- 139- Compayre, G. Intellectual and Moral Develop7ne7it of the Child. Chapter on Imagination. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. Darrah, E. M. Study of Children's Ideals. Pop. Sc. Mo., 1898, 88-98, Vol. LIII. (Good.) Galton, Francis, hiquiry into Hutnaft Faculties. Section on Images. L. Macmillan, $4.00. Hall, G. S. Children's Lies. Ped. Sem., 1891, 211-228. Hursh, S. B. Children's Hopes. C. S. M., 1895-6, 256-259. Jastrow, J. Eye Mindedness and Ear Mindedness. Pop. Sc Mo., Vol. XXXII, 597. Jegi, J. I. Children's Ambitions. Trans. III. Soc. C. S., 1899, 121-144. Lay, W. Mental Imagery Psy. Rev. Monograph Supplement, No. 7. (Discussion of imagery of adults.) Lewis, H. K. The Child: His Spiritual Nature. 38-42. Inventions. N. Y. Macmillan, $2.00. jj^Q THE CHILD Monroe, W. S. Vocatioiuil Interests. Eiiitcation, Vol. XVIII, 259-264. Perez, B. First Three Years of Clii I dhood. 147-157- Syracuse. Bardeen, §1,50. Preyer, W. Dcvclopiiunt 0/ the Intellect. See Index. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. Secor, N. B. Visual Reading. Am. Jour. /\y'., Vol. XI, 225-236. Sully, James. Studies of Childhood. Chapter on Imagination. N.Y. Appleton, $2.50. Taylor, J. P. Preliminary Study of Children's Hopes. Annual Kept, of Siipt. of Ed. of N. K, 1895-6, 992-1012. Taylor, J. P. Practical Aspects of Interest. Fed. Sent., V, 497. Thurber, C. H. What Children Want to Do When They Are Men and Women. Proc. N. E. A., 1896, 882-887. (Sum- mary of Taylor. ) Tracy, F. Psychology of Childhood, 72-75- Imagination. Boston. Heath, $0.90. Vostrovsky. Clara. Imaginary Companions. Barnes's Studies in Ed., 98-101. Whiting, M. C. Individuality of Numbers. Ped. Sem., 1892. Willard, Hattie M. Children's Ambitions. Barnes's Studies in Ed., 243-253- Wiltse, Sara E. l^Iental Imagery of Boys. Ain. Jour. Psy., Vol. Ill, 144-148- (Suggestive.) CHAPTER VIII Conception and Reasoning 1. Notice: (i) When the bab}^ first connects sensations; e.g., the milk with the bottle. (2) When he first compares objects; tions. e.g., one face with another. (3) When he first connects a present with an absent object; e.g., the dress with the absent mother. (4) When he forms a sequence; e.g., the sight of his cloak suggests going outdoors. (5) When he first adapts means to ends; e.g., pulls the tablecloth to bring something within reach. (6) When he first asks a question. How old is he? What is it? Does he follow it with others? How long is it before questioning becomes common? 2. Question children from three to eight years old as follows: (i) What is the length of an hour, day, week, month, and year? (2) See whether they know how much longer the day is than the hour, the week than the day, etc. (3 ) How much do they think that they can do in an hour? 141 142 THE CHILD (4) At what af^c did thi-y learn to tell time? (5) At what age do they care to know the day of the month, the names of the months, etc.? 3. Ask school children to tell you what the things are that are named in Dr. Hall's list in the chapter on Perception, or in a similar list. These descriptions will show the imperfections in the children's sense experiences and the consequent imperfections in their concepts. The nature of reasoning has been a subject which in the past has been hotly disputed. It has been con- -.^„„,„ „„t sidered the mark of man's divinity, a fac- Development ofreasoning ulty implanted in him by the Creator, the power. special power of the soul or logos. Man, it was considered, has many things in common with animals, but his reason is the mark which puts him in a class by himself. It does not exist even in germ in the brute creation, while, when we reach man, we find it full-grown even in the child, as is also the moral sense. A child can therefore be held accountable even as a grown person is. In reaction against this evi- dently false theory, w^e find it assumed, on the other hand, that a child can not reason at all until he comes to comparative maturity — in the twelfth or thirteenth year at least. \Vith the de\e]oi)ment of genetic psychology, how- ever, this has all been changed. It is accepted now as an unquestionable fact that the mental life is a gradual and unbroken growth from the cradle to the grave, as much as is the growth of the body. The infant mind must contain in the germ the possibilities of the highest reasoning. True, it needs the sunlight, CONCEPTION AND REASONING 143 air, and water of favorable surroundings to develop it, as any germ does, but it is waiting to be developed, except in the few unfortunates who are born with the possibility of only a slight development. Fruitful as this conception of regular growth has been in the other divisions of Child-Study, it has as yet been little used in the study of children's reasonings. Other traits are more characteristicaily childlike per- haps, and perhaps even yet the traditional idea of reason still holds an unconscious sway over us. How- ever this is, it is certain that but little material is avail- able on children's conceptions and reasonings. By imagination the child is freed to a large extent from time and place limitations in his combinations of ideas, and so can go on to combinations not duplicated in his own experience. In Conceptions ^, ^ and images, conception he finally goes beyond the indi- vidual in so far as he can frame an idea which applies equally to all individuals with certain similarities. In psychological terms, in conception for the first time we deal with universals or generals, while in perception, memory, and imagination we deal with particulars. In conception, the image in the mind is but a symbol for a large number of individual objects or ideas, much as, on a lower plane, the sensation in perception sym- bolizes all the other possible sensations from the object. When we think, for instance, of "tables," the idea that comes to our minds stands for round, square, oblong, four-legged, three-legged, and no-legged tables — all kinds of tables of all sizes, shapes and materials — the only common quality for them all being, perhaps, that they have flat tops and are used to put things on. 10 144 THE CHILD But, to turn it about, it is c\i(lcnt that such a class idea or concept is derived in the first place from sense experiences. Through our comparisons of percep- tions or of images — which are derived from perceptions — we select the common qualities and combine them into a whole which can then stand for the class. Sometimes we select one object as a type, but even then we attend only to those qualities in it which all the other members of its class also have. It is but a sym- bol. In forming a concept, then, certain steps are neces- sary: (i) perceptions or images of many objects; (2) comparison of these with each other; (3) selection of their common qualities; and (4) combination of these qualities into the class idea. This is the case when the child's mind is sufficiently developed so that he can compare two objects or ideas; but even before then there is a kind of consciousness of classes which does duty for a concept and is very closely connected with organic memory and habit. We will begin, accordingly, at this point, and then see when comparison first appears, and when a clear class idea or concept. In discussing perception, it was proved that by the third week the sight of the breast called out movements vi^ct/^^r, toward it for nursing, and that from the First con- ''' sciousDcss of third month on, recognition of objects in- c assei. creased very rapidly. It was noted that this was to a large extent due to organic memory, and not to the presence of memory images. At this stage, therefore, a baby can not compare a present with a past experience, and only with difficulty two present ones. CONCEPTION AND REASONING lAC This first rcco.^nition l^ocs into few details. Some strong impression appeals to the baby's senses, and any object that gives the same impression calls out the same reaction. Preyer's son showed a strong liking for white bottles of any sort, like his milk-bottle. Babies at first usually treat all men as they do their father, unless there is some striking peculiarity. If the mother remains much with the child, she is kept in a class by herself, but otherwise it is not at all uncom- mon for the baby to act toward all women as he does toward his mother. In such cases, there is a recognition by means of organic memory of certain prominent characteristics, and there is a responsive movement of some sort. The first concept, is thus, according to Baldwin, a habitual response to a certain stimulus. We may say confidently that the possibility of comparison is not present at birth, for the various brain centers have then no fibers connect- ing them. During the first nine months, JomparLns. however, the brain increases more in size and in connections between its parts than at any other period of life, so that we may expect to find compar- ison by the ninth month, and in all probability consid- erably earlier. When we speak of comparison, we simply mean noting the relationships between two objects or ideas. The two things must both be included in one mental act. Even if two odjccts are compared, then, it is evident that there must be at least enough memory to remember the first object while examining the second. Miss Shinn records the first memory and the first com- parison at the same time, in the beginning of the third 146 THE CHILD month, whin her niece studied her and her mother alternately, for some time, turning her head from one to the other and examining them both intently. Perez gives what is clearly a case of comparison, although he does not seem to be sure of it, in describ- ing an eight months' old boy's experiences with two cats. The boy was playing with one cat when another cat of the same size and color entered the room. Sud- denly the child caught sight of it and apparently could hardly believe his eyes. He stared at it and then at the first cat, his body tense with attention and aston- ishment. He examined the two until he became satis- fied that they really were two different things, though so much aliki-. It seems probable from our knowledge of the growth of brain fibers and of the rise of memory images, that comparison begins in a feeble way in the third month. As soon as a child begins to speak, we have certain and numerous evidences of the similarities that he is constantly seeing between objects. All white animals of a certain size are "lammies"; all black ones, "doggies." The hairless doll is "Grandpa." Men without beards are boys even to the four-year-old, and the ten-cent piece is a baby dollar. We sec comparison clearly when ]\Irs. Hall's child, at eight months, recognizes the real dog from the image on the mantel; when Preyer's boy, at about one year, compares his father's face with its reflection in the mirror; and in the case cited by Ribot, of the child who compared the ticking of the watch with that of the clock. We see here, as in the first class-conscious- ness, that only certain very obvious or interesting qual- ities strike the child's mind, and so his classification CONCEPTION AND REASONING ^M by those qualities seems to us very funny or very pretty. We should cukl, however, that where there is a strong interest, the comparisons of a four-year-old child will average favorably with those of an uninterested adult. We have no data to show when a child first compares two ideas with each other. We may best describe the baby's condition when comparison has fairly begun by summarizing Baldwin's account of the origin of the concept. The child begins with an indefinite and vague whole, which is both particular and general, percept and con- cept. Take for instance the pet kitten, the child's first experience with cats. The concept individual and the class are to him the same at this point. He knows no class but the indi- vidual. But he meets now a big cat of a new color. He may not identify it with the first cat at all, but the chances are that he will. Percept and concept now begin to divide — the two individuals are alike in some ways, so that both are called cats, and different in others, so that one is called Tiger and one Tom. Tiger scratches, Tom does not; but both are soft and warm and both purr. So his idea of a cat is a purring, warm, soft animal, that may or may not scratch. The next cat he sees may lick his fingers, and so, with every successive experience some qualities may be left out and others put in only as possibilities, until there is but a small nucleus of qualities belonging to all cats, and a large fringe of other characteristics that may belong to any particular Tabby or Tom. The amazing thing is that the baby learns so quickly to distinguish individuals from each other, and yet, at ► j ,g THE CHILD the same time, to put them to.^ether into one cla§s, as things to eat, thinijs to th'ink, rollin.L;- thinL^s, and so on. Experience is his only teacher here, but experi- ence reinforced by pleasure and jiain and by the natural impulses and instincts of the child is very powerful. It is important to (In; baby's safety and comfort that he should learn thus speedily to distiufj^uish and associate. Take, for instance, the cats a<;ain. He likes the soft fur and warmth, but he gets scratched by Tiger. Now for a long time he may be afraid that all cats scratch, but if he learns that only Tiger scratches and Tom and Tabby do not, he gets the pleasure of playing with them and avoids the pain of Tiger's claws. That is, to state it generally again, a baby that learns most readily the qualities peculiar only to an individual and those common to a class, is the baby that is the most independent and the surest of safety. That the child's first concepts are incomplete is a foregone conclusion from what we have already said. , ^ ■ His experiences with objects are necessa- Incomplete- ' ,, r , .• ness ofchiids rily limited; he can not tell from the tew concepts. people or houses or rivers that he has seen, which of their qualities are peculiar to them aiid which belong to all objects of their kind. Wlu'n we add to this his imperfect observation and his small power of voluntary attention, we can see that correct concepts will be a late mental product. A child may have as wild an imagination as an adult, but an imagination that attends to universal and real qualities, as concep- tion does, is obtained only by long experience and training. CONCEPTION AND REASONING 149 The child's concepts are therefore too general in some cases and too particular in others. He does not put into the concept all the qualities that it ought to have, as in thinking that all white things are milk; or he puts in wrong ones, as in thinking that all rivers are dirty; or he combines both errors, as in thinking that blackness marks off dogs from sheep. We can, by a little adroit questioning of children, see all these errors in their concepts of common classes of objects, such as tables and chairs and people, while with the still more abstract concepts, such as number, distance, growth, time, and the self, the errors are all intensified. The baby's ideas of number are vague in the extreme; number in the abstract does not, of course, exist for him. He knows only many things or this one particular thing. At eighteen months number ° Ribot says a child can distinguish concepts of one, two, and several. Dewey also notes that three children observed by him, varying in age from sixteen to twenty-eight months, paired off objects. Two could be counted but not three. At three years, Ribot says, a child can distinguish i, 2, and 4 or 2X2. The baby's first vague impressions of quantity and mass are made more distinct through his own movements in touching and handling objects, and he is also aided by the regu- lar alternations and rhythms in his experiences and in his bodily reactions. We know that in his first count- ing a little child is very likely to touch or tap as he counts and that he likes to group the objects or words in counting by pronounced accents. He enjoys singing the multiplication tables, for instance. We must also distinguish, with the little child, between ISO THE CHILD rciJcatiiii:; nunil)ir names, and real counting. A child will often apparently count to a high number, but when asked to show ten objects or twenty objects, he will be at a loss. Not infrequently a child takes the name of the number for the name of the object. If, for instance, the third object happens to be a willow rocker, he may think it a "three." When a child has really learned to count, he delights in it, both counting the objects about him, and merely counting, without reference to particular objects. The boards in the sidewalk, the blades of grass, the stones in the road, are all enumerated, when he is not occu- pied in numbering up to hundreds of thousands, or to millions or billions. At first, the child's idea of growth is simply that of increase in size. It does not include the idea of increasing complexity of the parts. To the Concept of childish mind, a stone may grow as readily growth. - "^ . ■' as a child. Mr. Sully has some speculations on childish ideas of growth which are interesting though, perhaps, not so general in their application as he believes. A child, he says, can not believe that things come from nothing or go to nothing; hence the natural idea of a cycle, babies growing to men, and men growing back to babies. Babies, a child is told, come from various places, hea\-en among others. He knows that they get larger by eating and drinking, and that after a time they stop growing and begin to shrink. Old people are frequently small, they are spoken of as childish, and when they die they are carried to heaven by the angels, hence they must grow still smaller after they die. I myself have never come across this idea, ami I doubt wln-ther it is a common CONCEPTION AND REASONING I CI one. Most children are satisfied as to the orif,nn of an object by being told where it comes from, without questioning further the source of the place. As in the other cases, the first idea of self is obtained probably from a child's own feelings as he touches or sees himself and moves his body involun- tarily. This touch is different from the ^eiL^^ contact with other bodies, because there are two sensations instead of one, touching and being touched. By degrees, the child learns that his arms and legs belong to him, i.e., that he gets pleasures and pains from them, but he does not seem to identify them as closely with himself as he does his body. This is shown in some examples given by Sully — one child saying that his legs get in the way of himself. Another thinks that his stained feet are diffeient from the ones he had in the morning. The odd ideas that children have about their bodies and the uses of the various parts are excellent illustra- tions of their attempts to straighten out all the strange things that they come across. At first the child's only sense of self is of his body, but after a time he begins to distinguish himself from his body. As far as I know, no extended observations have been made on how the transition comes about. We know that in the race history, it is effected through dreams, shadows and echoes, and we have isolated cases in children, like George Sand's, where the same thing occurs. When the child uses "I" and "me" instead of his name, he seems to have arrived at this idea. Of course a baby's first ideas of particular distances come from his own experiences in grasping and 152 THE CHILD creeping. Distance means the lenfrth of his arm, or the amount of creeping or walking that he does to get tn an object. Feet and miles mean nothing oncep ^^ i^jj^^ until lu- is able in some rough wa\^ to distance. , . ' reduce them to his own efforts in walk- ing, reaching, or seeing. lie puts together certain common factors from many experiences and thus gets a crude concept of a foot or a yard or a mile. But accurate concepts are slow to develop, for wen grown people have imperfect ideas of a mile, and when it comes to five or ten miles, we take to measuring the distance by time. A place is fifteen minutes' walk, or half an hour's car ride away. This, however, probably means as little to a child as the space measurement. We all know how confused to a small child are the lengths of month concept of ^^^, ^f j^^^^,^ .^,^^, ^^^■^^^^^^^. ^ child of time. ' ' three oftcm has great difficulty in under- standing yesterday and day before yesterday. The time when his mother was a little girl was many years ago, at the same time when Caesar and Heracles lived. We have no data to show when children first get time concepts that are at all adequate, and the case is much the same with regard to other concepts. We know that, generally speaking, a child has de\-eloped beyond the gross inaccuracies by the time he is four- teen, but we know nothing of what classes of erroneous concepts are corrected first and what linger latest. There is room for much observation here. If it is true that a child's ideas of a class depend upon his experience with objt-cts of the class, then it is evident that the first step toward getting a correct CONCEPTION AND REASONING I c -J idea is to .c^ive many objects with which to get acquain- ted. A child who has seen only one dog, can not know as much about dogs, other things being Forming equal, as the child who has played with correct several. A child who has seen but one river concepts, has a more imperfect idea of rivers than a child who has seen many. Of course, by far the best way is to show the children the actual object, but if this is impossible, pictures do a great deal, especially pictures that differ in minor details but agree in essentials. It is hardly enough, however, simply to put the vari- ous objects or pictures or ideas before the child. He ■should be led to judge whether the differences are so great that the objects can not be put into one class. The degree to which this comparison is carried out must be decided by the teacher. Kindergarten chil- dren notice only the more striking likenesses and differ- ences, but in the ninth year a great awakening occurs. Such comparison is quite as important as having many objects because it means, once more, the form- ing of associations which bind the child's world of thought into a whole, and it lays the foundation for the systematic reasoning which occurs in later life. We ha\'e already answered indirectly the question of whether general ideas can exist before language. It seems unquestionable, from the way that a conception child acts toward objects that are alike, andian- that he does have some class ideas before suage. he has learned to speak. On the other hand, there can be no doubt that lan- guage facilitates the formation of concepts because it provides a convenient form in which to keep the idea. Then, too, when the baby learns to speak, the great 154 THE CHILD vvidcniiirr in his ability to j^ct what he wants is a pow- erful stinuihis to nu'iital activity, and to the namin<^ of thinfjs. The first cjiu-stions arc usually about what thin ijne of religious ol.-'servance, and not In tlie child. ,, r ■ 1 i-^ at all of practical morality. Children do not name t<;achers as the source of their ideas, but parents, church, ])ictures and the "hired girl." RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS igf If these reports are typical, it would seem that up to the age of twelve the child's religious consciousness consists, as a rule, simply of statements made by others and accepted without doubt; that the religious feeling is not yet separated from the feeling of dependence and mystery excited by parents and companions; and that the moral sense is only the sense of what custom demands. Shame is the shame of being found out, rather than of the doing of wrong, and the virtues pos- sessed by the child are the result of imitation rather than of moral conviction. Between the ages of twelve and sixteen, however, comes the great period of conversion, for this is the time when by far the majority of profes- sing Christians join the church. If this Conversion: does not occur before the age of twenty at a-^'^^a.ge age. most, it is unlikely to take place later. Starbuck's records show that out of three hunared and thirty cases in all, the average age of conversion for girls wao between twelve and thirteen and for boys between fifteen and sixteen. A second period occurs between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. These cases are explained by the fact that many of those converted then had been partially converted two years before, but for one cause or another had become indifferent. The first of these periods, you will notice, is at the age of puberty, and it seems prac- tically certain that the oncoming of maturity is closely connected with conversion. It is the time when the physical nature develops the necessity of another for its perfection, and this need would naturally be reflected in the mental and emotional life in every way. The vague mental longings and questionings J (^2 "^"^ CHILD and unrests due to the rapid <^rovvth of association fibers in the nervous centers may be in large part satisfied by love of the ideal, and the hero-worship of which religion is one form. This close connection between mental and ph\'sical growth is shown also by the records of early conversion (71 per cent of women and 64 per cent of men). Such conversions are often due to overtraining or strong pressure (84 per cent and 73 per cent) ; but otherwise they seem to accompany early physical development (43 and 36 per cent). Coming now to the meaning of the term, "conver- sion" properly co\-ers all awakening to the demands of the higher life and determination to meet Meaning of j, whether the change be sudden or conversion. ' '^ . slow. Most writers agree in the following: 1. The Si nsc of sin. This is found in 17 per cent of revival and 20 per cent of non-revival conversions, with or without religious training. If we include in this the fear of God as the Judge, with the resultant fears of death and hell, we must add 15 per cent and 16 per cent more to each of the above, making 32 per cent and 26 per cent respectively. When the early life has been bad, this sense is, of course, more prominent, but it appears even when Jthe worst sins are little faults. Professor Leuba says that fear is often taken for the conviction of sin, and that many such cases are com- plicated with bodily disorders — hysteria, etc., which add to the feeling. This period will be referred to Again later. 2. Sclf-siirrcndcr — the yielding of self to the divine will. This appears in 10 per cent of the men and 12 per cent of the women. It is usually preceded by much mental depression and meditation. Often there RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS 183 is violent resistance, wrestlinij with God, argument and doubt. Tiiis is much more prominent in men than in women— doubt registering with them 36 per cent as against 6 per cent in women. In a few cases this is foUowed by a determination to live a better life, but as a rule the order after self surrender is hope, trust, and love, culminating in 3. FaitJi, in 16 percent of men and 15 percent of women. The nature of faith has been much discussed by theologians, and we can not expect to settle what it should be. In actual practice, it seems, more than any- thing else, to be the feeling of oneness with God and good, and the conviction that He is to be trusted. It is entirely apart from intellectual conviction, and is not, as a rule, belief in dogmas. It is not reasonable or reasoned faith, but, rather, an emotional state. It leads directly to 4. Justification, and the sense of forgiveness, (22 per cent of men and 14 per cent of women), or the feeling of divine aid (10 and 6 per cent). Physiologically this is perhaps due to the inevitable reaction from the great nervous strain. We are speaking here of revival cases only. Any one who has seen a genuine old- fashioned revival can not doubt that mere physical fatigue has in some cases much to do with conversion. A woman, for example, worked up to the highest nervous pitch by her emotions, gives way, and an attack of weeping and laughing with consequent relief follows, which is interpreted by her as knowledge of God's forgiveness. 5. As the natural result, there is a feeling of great joy. The world seems to be newly made. The whole nature rises to a higher level, and in many cases (14 184 THE CHILD and 18 per cent) public confession and testimony to the power of the divine spirit follow. 6. The will is felt to be wholly powerless. The sub- ject is carried on by a i)ower outside himself. "Saved by the grace of God" expresses his state of mind. It seems to be to a large extent a struggle between con- scious and unconscious factors, between habits which have passed below the level of attention and ideas which are as )'et so vaguely felt as to be indescribable. It is again, j)erhaps, in large part the mental reflection of the bodily change — the opposition between the life of the individual and that of the race. Between the two sets of forces the child's conscious- ness stands dismayed. He feels himself as clay moulded b>' forces far more jiowerful than he, forces not only without him, but within him — how can he feel otherwise than helpless, and what hope is there for him if not in God? Let us now take up in more detail the studies of actual conversions. In the first place it seems to be true that the nature of the conversion, for most people, depends to a large Conversion ^^^ent upon what is expected. Thus the and denominations like the Methodist, that education, ^^^pi^^y ^^^ revival method and teach the necessity of a sudden and absolute turning from sin, can show the most remarkable cases of reformation; while those like the L^iiscopalian, that look for a steady development of the religious life, are more likely to secure that. Teaching, imitation, and social pressure in other ways, influence 42 j)er cent of revival cases and 37 per cent of non-re\i\al cases. W'e do not mean to say RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS I^C that they arc the sole factors, but only that they are important ones. Allowing, however, for preconceiv'ed expectations, we find that many who look for sudden conversion, and perhaps (^ven desire and strive for it, are conversion unable to attain it, while others get just andtem- what they expect. perament. Professor Coe's cases are not as numerous as is desir- able, but he seems to have been very careful in collect- ing his material, so that it can be thoroughly relied on as far as it goes. He finds that out of sixteen subjects who expected conversion and were satisfied, twelve were in an emotional as opposed to an intellectual state of mind; eight of them had had hallucinations or motor automatisms of some kind, such as involuntary laughter or song, and many of them felt assured of special answer to prayer. In another group, on the other hand, out of twelve subjects, who expected conversion and were disap- pointed, nine were in an intellectual state, only one had either hallucinations or motor automatisms, and very few had direct answers to prayer. Under hypnotic influence, the first group are as a rule passively suggestible, while the second group, except in one or two cases, are suggestible, but are likely to add to or modify the suggestions in someway. Taking now those who are converted, Starbuck gives the following: Circumstances of Conversion Men Women Revival or camp meeting 4S% 5 32 4 II 6 At home after revival At home alone 16 Regular Church 25 Circumstances not given 7 1 86 THE CHILD The motives of conversion have been touched upon slightly already, in giving social motives or objective forces, and the sense of sin. Other motives Motives of ] enter in. Egotistic motives, such as to conversion. ° ' gain heaven, form 21 per cent of both revival and non-revival cases. These motives average highest in the earlier years, diminishing up to the age of sixteen, then increasing up to eighteen, and thence declining. Love of God and Christ is mentioned as a motive in but 2 per cent of the cases, while love of a moral ideal is given in 15. The latter motive steadily increases in importance with the age of the conversion. The?e motives ought to determine the character of the new life, and yet the percentages do not seem to agree in all cases. Motive Desire to help others. . , Love for others Nearness to Nature . . . . Nearness to God Nearness to Christ Mkn Women 25% 2S'/o 43 42 3b 32 48 47 5 6 If love of God enters so little into conversion, it seems strange that the feeling of nearness to Him should be so marked a feature of the new life, unless the desire for his approval is really more prominent before conversion than is indicated. Or, again, it may be that the mere feeling of relaxation, or release after the strain, of expectation is given this meaning. Notice how small a part is assigned to Christ in these figures, obtained in nearly all cases, from ortho- dox church members; and yet Christ is the central fig- ure in the scheme of justification and rcclcmj)tion. RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS J^J Let us now consider briefly tiie religious life which is a gradual growth, without the storm and stress of con- version. Whether the development shall be gradual or not is to a large extent a matter growtb^ of temperament, but gradual growth is facil- itated by early religious surroundings and by freedom to raise doubts and wisdom in answering them. In such cases the belief in God, Christ, and immortality play a much more important part than in cases of sud- den conversion. The thought is not centered so entirely upon self. In cases where the religious feeling was not aroused at puberty, some other strong interest takes its place. Usually this is the moral interest in 33 per cent of women and 43 per cent of men, but it may be intellec- tual (21 and 32 per cent), or esthetic (15 and 16 per cent). What now are the permanent results? In the cases of gradual growth, doubts are usually settled as they rise, hence the growth is as a rule a part of permanence character. ofconver- In cases of conversion, on the other hand, there is frequently a period of reaction and reconstruc- tion of belief. The tables stand thus: Men Result of Conversion Revivals Age Non-Revi- vals Age Relapsed 48% 15 13-7 17 24% 35 I7.5 Permanent i8.7 Women Result of Conversion Revivals Age Non-Revi- vals Age Relapsed 41% 14 12 14 3 14% 17 16 Permanent 15.3 l88 THE CHILD This reconstruction may be, and often is, simply a new interi)retation of religious beliefs, a more vital realization of the meaning of religion to the individual. It does not necessarily in\olve any break with the church, although the struggle is often a severe one. Or again, it may lead to rupture. This period usually covers the period from twenty to thirty, the time wlu;n James tells us that intellectual habits are being formed. What, in view of these facts, should be the religious training of the child? All agree that religion is not a thing forced upon man from the outside, f/aininr '^"^ '^ rather the longing for unity with the ideal self. It is essentially social — the highest form of the longing for a friend who can per- fectly understand us "What I could never be, What men ignored in me. This was I worth to God." It is fed and nourished by the same source that nourishes society. "If a man loves not his brother whom he has seen, how shall he love God, whom he has not seen?" How can one attain to the love of an ideal personality or to a belief in a Governor, a Judge, a Lawgi\'er, if he does not see the exidcnces of this love and law about him in nature and in man? We shall, therefore, agree emphatically with Dr. Hall, in his statements regarding the religious educa- tion of /////f children. It must begin in the cradle with the feelings of lo\-e and gratitude towards the mother, who stands then in tlu; j^lace of God. Reverence, obedience, and the whole list of Christian \irtues are RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS i ^Q first exercised towards mother and father, and the less they are called out in the family life the less moral and religious capacity will the child have in _ ,, ° "^ Dr. Hall on later life. If the mother and the father make the religious themselves slaves to the child's caprice, education of I, I 1 /- I 1 • children, he will naturally look upon God as his factotum. "As a father pitieth his children," so does God. How then if the father is unwise, unstable, gov- erned by moods? How shall he point the child to a God worthy of worship? Whatever our individual belief may be, we can not deny that men do and must think of God as having the attributes of men, after an anthropomorphic fashion, and as are the men whom men know, so is their image of God. Here, then, is one place where both teacher and parent can give religious instruction by quickening the child's love for others and for the ideal. Again, the child is constantly brought into contact with nature and with material things. If he is to con- trol them, he must know and follow their laws. Absolute truth is demanded of him iaws.^° ^ in his dealings with them, and absolute obedience to their laws. One must be rather doubtful of the advantages of unquestioning obedience to persons, for even the best of persons is so liable to error that a child may easily feel that he is compelled by brute force to submit to caprice. But there can be no such possibility in following nature's laws. Obedience X.O principles can be inculcated there if the teacher will but grasp his opportunity; and from this it is a short step to obedience to the moral law and to God. Here we get the sense of God as the God of law, as a force infinitely more stable and valuable than the THE CHILD 190 petty pcrsonalit)' of the child. Awe and reverence eiitiT lilly to tUli\(-T a child from hinist;lf, vr rather from human nature as it is. Here also the question of the lej^itimacy of punishments finds a solution. If the father embodies or exjjresses to tlie child the law that he understands, the child never rebels against punishment. He knows that it is his due. Hence the value of Spencer's doctrine, that a punishment should be the natural result of the act, or as nearly so as pos- sible. In <4"i\'in.y" spc^cific reli,L,dous instruction, we can not, if we would, i)re\ent a child from forminK:erned. There are, of course, boys who will brood over a defeat in a fight and will be induced by it to use underhand means the next time, but such a disposition is sure to come out in other directions also, and must be combated all along the line. The only way of knowing whether a boy has been bene- fited by a fight is to see how he feels toward his oppo- nent. The parent's action can be safely guided by that. The moral ideas of children are concerned chiefly with concrete acts. A good girl or boy is usually one who minds the mother. At a great dis- Thegood tance after obedience comes truthfulness, and tne bad. 29 per cent as against 54 per cent. Is it not a sad commentary upon us, that we should impress / CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL I QQ obedience upon children so much more diligently than truthfulness? In naming moral qualities that they would prefer in a chum, however, the order stands thus: kindness and good nature, justice, truthfulness, constancy, unsel- fishness, affection, modesty, obedience, courage. We shall discuss the subject of custom at greater length under Imitation. Here we wish only to point out that to the very little child the right Attitude thing is the customary thing. He knows toward nothing of why he should or should not do °"^ °™" this; he simply accepts the fact that others do it, and so he does it. The earliest moral education thus con- sists in forming good habits through imitation. Such training is of course incomplete unless it finally reenforces the habits or custom by reason, guided by a high moral ideal. With little children law is a personal thing— the command of the parent or teacher; but as they grow older they become conscious that the par- ents also obey, not the judge or the police- toward law. man, but something back of him, some- thing that is called the law. So a child develops the idea of an impersonal principle that applies to all men, and gives obedience to it the more readily as his own life is regulated by reasonable customs. The development of this sense of law is shown in the penalties children of different ages would attach to a wrong act. At seven, 89 per cent of the children punish regardless of the legal penalties; at twelve 29 per cent give the legal penalty, and at sixteen 74 per cent. The great change occurring at adolescence marks once more the child's mental and moral awakening. 200 "THE CHILD In takin{,f up the discussion of how to cure children's faults and failings, we enter upon the most vexed sub- Remedial j'-'^^t in education. All sorts of opinions are agencies; ,-ift>^ fj-Qm the theory that all children are punishment, , , , , .... child's always good, to tlie one that original sin attitude, makes almost the sum total of a child. To j)rcscrve sanity, and to discuss neither the angels nor the imps, hut the chikh-en whom we play with every day, is the only object here. It may throw some light upon the subject if we first see what punishment children would themselves inflict and consider just. Miss Schallenberger (oUl two thousand children from six to sixteen years old this story: "One afternoon, six-year-old Jennie's mother went out to call, lea\ing Jennie playing with her box of paints. After a while Jennie went into the parlor, and saw there some nice lU'W chairs. She exclaimed, 'Oh, I will paint all these chairs, and mamma will be so pleased I' \\ lun her mamma came homeshe found her chairs all sj)oiled. Ifyouhadbeen her mamma, what would you have done to Jennie?" The punishments assigned fell into three classes. I. Tlie principle of reprisal. Jennie gave her mother pain, and so she must suffer pain. The little children advocated this far more than the older ones, for they thought only of the act, not of the motive. At six only 23 children speak of Jennie's ignorance; at twelve, 322, and at sixteen, 654. So also, none of the six-year-olds would tell Jennie why she was wrong; at twelve, 181 do, and at sixteen, 751. The specific pun- ishment assigned is usually a whipping, but this les- sens from 1, 102 out of 2,000 at six, to 763 at eleven, and 1S5 at sixteen. CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 201 2. Prevc/ifio/i by fear or terror. None of the six- year-olds would threaten; 39 at twelve and 85 at fifteen would. None of the six-year-olds would make her promise not to do it again; 15 at twelve and 35 at fif- teen would. Notice how very small this class is both as to threats and promises; and yet there are no more common methods than these two in dealing with chil- dren. 3. Reform. As we have already said, explanation of why Jennie's act was wrong increases steadily up to the age of sixteen. The idea of reform becomes more prominent, but even at sixteen it is not as prominent as the idea of revenge is at six. The older children are more merciful than the younger. Now consider in connection with inis the remi- niscences by young people between seventeen and twenty-one years old, given by Street, of punishments that did good or harm Under punishments that did good we find the follow- ing list: Sixteen were helped by whippings, of which they speak with gratitude; eleven by with- just or drawal of some privilege; six by talks; five unjustpun- by being left alone a time; four by scolding, ^s men s. Harm was done to eight by whippings; to eight by undeserved punishments; to four by sarcasm; to four by talks; to three by forced apologies; to two by pub- lic punishments. These numbers are small, and must be supplemented by Barnes, who collected 2,000 papers describing just and unjust punishments, from children between seven and sixteen years old. Two and a half per cent of these 2,000 children can not recall any just punishment that they have received, but we are left ignorant of their 202 THE CHILD character and surroundings; 25 per cent can not recall an unjust punishment; 42 per cent of those who think punishment just, can give no reason, and 12 per cent think that it does them good, although they do not see how. In such cases, there seems to be an uncjues- tioning acceptance of custom. Where reasons are given, the most common idea is that of atonement, the expiation of an offense by pain. Of those who felt some one punishment unjust, 41 per cent gave as a reason that they were innocent of the offense; 27 per cent that they could not help it, forgot, did not know better, did not intend to, etc.; 19 per cent admitted the offense, but thought the pun- ishment too severe, due to prejudice, etc. Eleven per cent maintained that the act for which they were pun- ished was right, and 79 per cent threw all responsi- bility on the one who punished them. Injustice is, on the whole, charged about equally against parents and teachers, but as children grow older, they talk less about home matters. The ideas of what punishments are just and what are unjust, are very vagu(.', even among the older chil- dren. The forms about which opinions commonly differ are: scolding, confinement, and whipping. Six hundred and eighty-one whippings are called just, as against 493 unjust. Finally, the results of investigations to determine whether children admit the justice of making the innocent suffer with and for the guilty are rather sur- prising. This case was presented to nearly 2,000 chil- dren from seven to sixteen years old: "Some children in a class were bad, but the teacher could not find out who they were, and so she kept the whole class after CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 203 school. Was she just?" Out of these 1914 children, 82 per cent considered her justified, and the percentage was nearly the same for all ages. The reasons given for this decision were various. Forty-nine per cent claimed that it was just because the class would not tell on the guilty ones, evidently believing that the class as a whole is at least partly responsible for the good behavior of each member. Sixteen per cent said that the class was bad; 10 per cent, that the teacher did not know the guilty ones and must punish some one; 5 per cent, that it was a sure way of punishing the offenders, and 4 per cent that it would prevent a repetition of the offense. The feeling that the class should cooperate with the teacher in keeping order increases to over 50 per cent after the age of ten. How then, do children feel towards punishments? 1. Little children are much more prone than older ones to consider only the act, and not the motive; to punish for reprisal; to inflict Summary, physical pain; to give no reasons. 2. At no age do children consider threats and prom- ises of much importance. 3. Practically all childrer^ accept most punishments as just; but many consider some one or a few unjust. 4. What is just, is very vague and is probably almost the same as what is customary, especially with the younger children. Under unjust punishments, for instance, violation of custom, either by punishing the innocent or helpless child, or by exacting an unusually severe penalty, covers nearly all the cases. 5. The most common punishment is whipping or spanking. Among children of all ages, 681 whippings 204 THE CHILD were considered just, as against 493 unjust. As far as these records go, children do not seem to feel that there is any greater indignity in a whipping than in any other form of punishment. 6. I\Iost children admit the justice, though on \arious grounds, of jjunishing a class for the misbe- havior of some unknown member. What conclusions may fairly be drawn, as to the best forms of punishment? This raises the whole question of what agencies should and what should ^°^,^^, not be employed to secure right feeling and action, assuming that a child does act and feel wrongly. Such agencies may be dividejd into three classes: (i) the natural results of the child's act; (2) moral suasion: (3) punishment or fear in some form. I. PHnishme7it as a Logical Result. Spencer formu- lated the doctrine that the reasonable punishment of a wrong act is its own logical result, and that the pun- ishment given by parents or teachers should simulate this natural one as far as possible. The theory is excellent as far as it goes, but there are many wrong acts in which the consequences are so far removed that the child can not of himseVf see the connection; and there are others where the effect for the time being is slight, and not painful; antl there are 'tUW others in which deformity or death would result. As an exam- ple of the first we may take the habit of lunching three or four times between meals; of the third, careless playing with a sharp knife. We can not, in any such cases, leave the child to learn by the results, and so we supplement Nature by the second method — moral suasion. CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL. 205 2. Moral Suasion. Under this head falls all discus- sion of moral questions, whether it is the talking over of some past offense or the warning against some danger. Here also there is much difference of opinion as to the value of discussing moral (juestions. More than a few high-school teachers assert that talking does only harm, because it hardens children and makes them hypocrites. On the other hand, we have some direct testimony from boys showing that they w^ere greatly helped at a critical time by a friendly talk. It is possible here, as in everything else, to approach a child in such a way that a discussion will only harden him, but surely we can not assert that a kindly, fair, and reasonable presentation of a moral question, with opportunity on the child's part for reasonable objections, will either harden him or make him hypo- critical. He must have had sad experiences with other adults if this is the effect upon him. The writer believes, on the other hand, that there is serious danger in leaving a child to form his own opin- ions of right and wrong. He has not the ability to generalize with certainty, or the experience upon which to base a correct judgment, and it is our duty to supplement his defects without forcing our opinions down his throat. This teaching is not best done by formal instruction, but in the evening or Sunday talks that every wise mother has with her children. At such a time, specific examples — this time wdien John got angry, and that one when Mary told the fib — will come up of themselves, and can be seen in their true light by the children. Such talks show the children where they must learn self-control and make them feel that all the family are helping them. 2o6 '^^^ CHILD But the importance of kindness and gentleness in doing this, and of not forcing discussion must be insisted upon. To force children to talk over their sins, or to listen to moral platitudes, does have the bad effect which some teachers dread. 3. PunisJuncnt or Fear. When, however, the natural punishment is no deterrent, and when discussion and argument have been exhausted, is any resource left to the instructor or parent but an appeal to fear in some form? Let it be assumed that the action is evidently a wrong one, like telling a lie, and that the lies are not told from fear, but to get some supposed advantage. The child is a persistent liar, let us say. We will admit at once either that the child is abnormal, or that his previous training has been seriously wrong; but still, here he is, a persistent liar, on whom all our reasons have been employed without effect. Some hopeful enthusiasts maintain that there are no such children, but they do not count for much in dealing with prac- tical questions. What are we to do with this child, if we do not punish him, and inspire him with a fear of lying by making him realize vividly its bad results? Punishment should be the /^.y/ resort, but if all other measures fail, then it may justly be employed. It is, as Hyde says, a moral vaccination in such cases, a slight sickness, to ward off a far more dangerous one. What the punishment shall be, in cases where there is no natural penalty, must depend very much upon the nature of the child, and upon the punishment inflicted upon his playmates. An unusual punishment is far more dreadful than a customary one, even if it be in itself lighter. The evidence obtained from children themselves seems to show that they do not, as a rule, CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 207 look upon corporal punishment with the same horror that their elders do. This is doubtless due in part to its being customary, and in part to their feeling of personal dignity not being so highly developed. Con- finement may inflict more pain than a whipping, or the reverse may be the case. The point is always, that a parent or teacher should know what form of punishment may best reach the child; that he should not inflict too severe a penalty, or, on the other hand, too light a one; and that he should impose the penalty, not in anger, but in all fairness of mind. If a child does not yield to mild punishment, he lays himself open to more severity, and if he continues may be classed finally as a subject for a reformatory. The discussion, so far, seems to have been based on the assumption that children are naturally bad, and that punishment is an essential part of edu- cation. We can not, indeed, deny that there Preventive ' _ ' -' measures, are some unfortunates in whom the heredi- tary tendencies to crime need slight encouragement to come to a head. But such cases are few as compared with the great number of children whose slight devia- tions from right can be easily turned back. The pre- vention of wrong action is a far more important branch of practical morality than its correction. Henry Ward Beecher once said, wittily and wisely, that if he could but be born right the first time he would be willing to take his chances on the Second Birth. Modern Christianity ly^l^""} ■' couaitions. marks its sense of the relation between the physical and moral, by sending medical mission- aries to the heathen and visiting nurses to the poor of 14 2o8 "^"^ CHILD the slums. 1 1 has been ahundantl}- proved that the moral tone is somewhat lowered by fatigue and that the habitual criminal usually has some bodily defects. The first thing necessary, therefore, for a healthy moral naliire is a luMJlhy body. The moral education of a child begins even before the marriage of his parents, in their cultivation of right habits of living. Everything that contributes toward making the child well-born, i:)hysically, and toward keeping him so, is a factor in liis moral education. Here, and here alone, is the justification for the expenditure of the best thought and energy upon the science of hygiene, including cooking. Such matters as the healthiest food for a meal and the healthiest way of cooking it, the chHhing, and the ventilation of the house, assume from tliis standpoint the aspect of important moral duties. The child who is born healthy and kept health}' by good food, good air, and good clothing has the basis of a sound moralit}'. The struggle between right and wrong occurs in most of us because our feelings arc opposed to our duty or our reason, and it could be in large part ^°°^,. transferred to a wider siihere, if we had breeaiiig. _ _ ^ ' been i'>ropcrly trained in small matters. It is ])itial)le to tuul a child of ten or (eleven }'ears constantly disciplined for slight discourtesies, for indiscriminate eating at meals and between meals, and for cruelty to \\eak things. His moral struggles at this age should come in the resistance of temptation to acti\e wrongdoing. Such a condition is usually the fault of the jiarent, who neglected these matters when the child was little. From the very beginning CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 209 of life, onl\- courteous tones, oestures, and acts should surround the child, ami b(; (;xpectt-d of him, as a matter of course. Good breeding, which includes all the lesser moralities, should be so habitual as to be unconscious. Then a child can turn his attention entirely to the more serious moral cjuestions that each of us must some time decide. In the decision of these cjuestions, a child's greatest safeguard, especially between ten and eighteen years of age, lies in a close friendship with some older person, parent, teacher or friend. "®° ^ ^^' Such a friendship brings about naturally the free dis- cussion of serious moral problems and allows a child to receiv'e with an open mind the opinions of his elders. Both for the prevention and the correction of evil tend- encies such a relation is of the greatest value. Parents should, therefore, make every effort to retain the con- fidence of their children, and teachers should consider the securing of that confidence as important as their class teachings. The influence of good books, music, and pictures must not be omitted, although probably they have not as much influence upon most of us as our friendships. All these means, it must be understood, are but sub- sidiary to the great end of developing high ideals and noble ambitions in the child by precept and example. A morality that is merely habitual is better than none, but is only the basis of a morality that is shaped and modeled by the power of a living, glorious devotion to the highest aims. The parent or the teacher who can by any means inspire a child with a love of the good, the beautiful, and the true, with the ability to see them in the lives about him, and with a willingness to 2 lO THE CHILD sacrifice himself for their attainment in however humble a form, has done the utmost that one human being can do for another. REFERENCES Adler, Felix. Moral Instruction of Childrc7i. N. Y., Appleton. §1.50. Barnes, Earl. Studies in Education, 26, 71, no, 149, 190, 270, 299. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. (Tells how to collect and use material.) Brown, E. E. Naughty Children. Proc. N. E.A., 1899, 564-570. Bryant, Sophie. Teachings of Morality i7i Family and School. N. Y. Macmillan. §1.25. Studies in Character. N. Y., Macmillan. §1.50. Bulkley, J. E. Social Ethics in the Schools. Forum, Jan., 1899. Vol. XXVI., 615-620. Burk, F. L. Teasing and Bullying. Fed. Sem., 1897, Vol. IV. Carus, Paul. Moral Character of Children. Open Court, 1899, 176-184. Darrah, Estelle M. Children's Attitude towards Law. Barnes's Studies in Ed., 213-216, 254-258. Dewey, J. Chaos in Moral Training. Fop. Sc. Mo. Vol. XLV., 433-443- Ethelmer, E. Fear as an Ethic Force. IVest. Rev., 1899, 300-309. Frear, Caroline. Class Punishment. Barnes's Studies in Ed., 332-337- Chicago. University of Chicago Press. Groos, Karl. The Flay of Man. N. Y., Appleton. §1.50. Hall. G. S. Children's Lies. Fed. Sem., 1891, 211-218. Moral and Religious Training of Children. Fed. Sem., 1891. Harrison, Elizabeth. Child Nature, Chapter VI. Chicago, Kgn. Pub. Co. §1.00. Hyde, Wm. DeWitt. Our Ethical Resources. Ando7>er Rev., Vol. XVII., 124-133. Jordan, D. S. Nature Study and Moral Culture. Science, N. S., 1896, Vol. IV., 149-156 Luckey, G. W. A. Development of Moral Character. Froc. N. E. A., 1899, 126-136. CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 211 Mono, A. Moral Influence of Puberal Development. Am. Jour. Sociology, September, iSgg. Mangasarian, M. M. Punishment of Children. Int. Jour. Ethics, Vol. IV., 493-498- Oppenheim, N. Why Children Lie. Pop. Sc. Mo., Vol. XLVII., 1895, 372-387- Osborn, F. W. Ethical Contents of Children's Minds. Educ. Rev., Vol. VIII., 143-146. Palmer. G. H. Can Moral Conduct be Taught in Schools? Forum, Vol. XIV., 673-685. Patterson, Alma. Children's Motives. Barnes's Studies in Ed., 352-355. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. Perez, B. First Three Years oj Childhood. Moral Sense, 285- 292. Syracuse, Bardeen. §1.50. Rashdall, Hastings. Theory of Punishment. Int. Jour. oJ Ethics, Vol. XI,, 20-31. Rowe, S. H. Fear in the Di.scipiine of the Child. Outlook, Sept. 24, 1898, 234-235. Savage, M. J. Rights of Children. Arena, Vol. VI., 8-16. Schallenberger, M. Children's Rights as Seen by Themselves. Fed. Sent., 1894-6, Vol. III., 87-96. Sears, C. H. Home and School Punishments. Fed. Sem., 1899, 159-187. Sharp, F. C. Aims of Moral Education. Iftt. Jour. Ethics, 1899, Vol. IX., 214-228. Sisson, Genevra. Who Has the Best Right? Barnes's Studies in Ed., 259-263. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. Spencer, Anna G. Record of Virtue. Century Mag., Vol. XIX., 238-245. Street, I. R. Study in Moral Education. Fed. Sem., Vol. IV., 5-40. Van Liew, C. C. Mental and Moral Development of the Kinder- garten Child. Froc. N. E. A., 1899, 551-559- Wall, W. A. Deterrent Punishment. Int. Jour. Ethics, Vol. VIII., 157-158. Wiggin, Kate D. Rights of Children. Scribner's Mag., Vol. XII., 242. Also in book form as Childre?t's Rights. Bos- ton, Houghton, Mifflin. $1.00. Winterburn, Florence Hall. Nursery Ethics. N. Y., Baker. $1.00. CHAPTER XI Feelings and Emotions 1. Trace in some one child the growth of fear, anger, and love. Note what called out the yfnY expression in Observa- each case, and how the range of objects tions. widens. Did the child express affection before he was taught the kiss or the; loving pat? Was he imitating? 2. Ask children oi. what they are most afraid, and why? 3. Obtain from adults reminiscences of the persons whom, as children, they loved best. (i) At what age did the lo\e exist? (2) What relation did the person hold to you? How well did you kncnv the person? Did you see the person daily or hourly? Was mystery an element in the love? (3) Why did you love the person? On account of substantial services, like feeding and clothing you? Or for some personal quality? Or because of kisses and caresses for you? Or for gifts — candy, picture-l)ooks, etc.? (It would hardly be possible to question children them- selves, as the knowledge that their papers were to be read by the teacher would prevent a free •expression of feeling.) There is probably no one subject in psychology that has caused as much discussion as that of feeling and 212 FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 2I3 emotion. How pleasure and pain have originated and what is their value, what emotion is and into what classes it is to be divided, are matters on introduc- which there are nearly as many opinions as ^^°^- there are writers. We shall not, however, enter into the discussion of these much disputed points except in the most incidental way, but rather limit ourselves to the description of certain definite emotions, as they appear in children, and thus gain some idea of the emotional nature as it actually manifests itself. This will show, at least in a general way, what the most powerful si)rings of action are, and will lead on to the subject of interest, and of tendencies to action. Interest, indeed, can not be eliminated entirely from this discussion, for interest is feeling directed towards a definite object, and it is impossible to • 1 r 1- '^1 i. i. 1 • • i- «. Feeling and consider feeling without taking into account interest. its objects, more or less. Whatever division we make must be more or less artificial. We shall, however, take up here those feelings in which the pleasure or pain aspect is the most marked feature to the person himself. In interest the attention is con- cerned more with the object and less with the feel- ing, but, as we shall notice, either may pass into the other in any specific case. Even before birth it is probable that a child feels pains and pleasures of touch, from pressures and jars, but these are necessarily vague. After pij-st pains birth, for a long time, the most vivid feel- and ^, i 1 -.1 I . 1 pleasures, ings are those connected with hun^ei and its satisfaction, with warmth and cold, and with touch. Under this last head come the baby's delight in being relieved from the confinement of clothing, the H THE CHILD comfortable feeling of water in the bath, and the pleasure of being rubbed dry and warm. Preyer and Compayre agree that in the first months of life thi; greatest pleasure is the negative one of getting rid of pain. In the course of a month, moderately bright lights and slowly moving objects cause pleasure, and by the second month bright colors and sweet sounds are sources of delight. Between the fourth and sixth months, the pleasure of grasping things and the delight of being aljle to do things, such as tearing or crumpling paper, ringing the bell, and so on, come into promi- nence. The appearance of the first smile that indicates pleasure is the occasion of much rejoicing. Of course a baby may make grimaces that look like smiles very early, either accidentally or as the reflex of some one else's expression, but the first smile of delight Dar- win says did not appear in his son until the forty-fifth day. The smile is usually accompanied, especially as the child gets a little older, by crowing and kicking, and movements of the arms. Perez says that the little baby is easily fatigued by any unusual experience, whether pleasurable or painful, and should not be con- stantly amused by over-fond mothers. If he is well, the baby is usually content to lie in his cradle and take in from it the sights and sounds about him, dropping off to sleep at intervals to recover from the pressure of the novel world. lie gets all the amusement that his nervous system can stand in this way. Prominent among the pleasures that seem to have no object, is the child's delight in being tickled. A summary of Dr. G. Stanley Hall's investigation of this FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 215 subject follows. Most children and evt^n adults have a tendency to fuss with the skin, to rub it or scratch it, especially if it has any slii^ht bruise, rouj^h- ness or eruption that causes a feelin-^ of Tickling and -ri 4- u 11 laughing, uneasiness, there seems to be a demantl on the part of the skin, as of the other sense-organs, to be stimulated. This need is satisfied by rubbing, and also especially, by tickling. The sensitiveness of the parts of the body varies more or less, but this is the general order: soles, under arms, neck, under chin, waist, ribs and cheeks. Many children can be thrown almost into fits by a little tickling, and at some we need only point the finger to send them into gales of laughter. Dr. Hall considers this great sensitiveness a survival of ancestral experiences in tropical lands, where the sense of touch must be very delicate to escape the bite of poisonous insects. Why the experience now should be so highly pleasurable, instead of a source of terror, is, to say the least, inex- plicable, on this theory. Another source of merriment to children is founa in the animal world. Children, says Dr. Hall, have a closer connection with animals than adults do, because the organs common to men and animals, which in the adult are atrophied, are relatively larger in the child. There are over one hundred and forty of such organs, and they furnish a larger background of common feel- ing than is possible with the adult. The animals which are most often the cause of merriment are, in the order of frequency, the dog, cat, pig, monkey, rooster, crow, chicken, duck, ape, goose, sheep, cow, and horse. Children are also prone to laugh at what is for- bidden or secret. This is due to a relief of tension, 2 l6 THE CHILD Dr. Hall thinks, and is injurious on every account. It lessens the rc-straint upon social decency, and gives rise to wrong feelings about sexual subjects. It fur- nishes still another argument in favor of giving a child knowledge of such matters. Anger and fiar are commonly considered instinctive emotions, that is, certain obj<.H:ts, upon the first acciuaintanci^ with them, will call out the Aii£r6r same feelings and expressions from all men. Darwin observed that as early as the eighth day his child wrinkled his forehead and frowned before crying, as if angry; and in the second month Perez observed that the child showed anger by pushing away with a frown objects that he did not like. In the fourth mcjnth anger is certainly shown; the face and head become red, and the cry shows irritation. This is caused at first by delay in supplying food; but two or three months later will be called out by any thwart- ing of desire, such as the drop[)ing of a toy. Anger at this early age, it must be noted, is simply the instinctive rebelling against pain. It is wholly unreasonable and is be'st dealt with by di\crting the child's attention if the deprivation is for the child's good. As a child gets a little older, especially if it is a boy, he is likely to vent his anger by beating the person or thing that offends him, or by throwing things at them. Here, also, until a child can be reasoned with, diversion of attention and the final securing of an expression of affection is the wisest method of treatment. At best only a few of thi: causes of anger can be enumerated. There is, in the first place, what may be called an irascible disposition, with which some seem FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 2 17 to be born. Disappointments and vexations which others would hardly notice result in violent outbursts of temper. Personal peculiarities of speech, . . ^ Causes of gait, dress — almost anythmg, in fact — may anger. lead to a hate that is almost murderous in its vindictiveness. When a child is so unfortunate in disposition, only the most constant, temperate, kindly training in self-control will help him. There are, in some cases, physical conditions caus- ing constant irritation which are reflected in this bad temper. Hence parents should first of all ascertain whether the child is healthy. Fatigue is also a com- mon cause of irritability. With older children as with younger the thwarting of expectations is one of the most common causes of anger. A child to whom a promise has been broken, who has been "fooled," who has been called home before he finishes his game, is usually an angry child. Anger over a violation of justice or principle is relatively uncommon in chil- dren. The feeling of pain or the suffering of personal injury is usually the underlying cause. As to the method to be used in controlling anger we find the most conflicting theories. The natural tendency is to express the anger in some w'ay — to strike or bite or scratch, or at °^Ji!^ ° •^ ' anger. least to say sharp words or to slam a door. Many men find great relief in swearing and others think vigorously what they dare not say. In all these cases, there is some vent for the emotion, and usually it is some kind of reaction against the person who caused the anger. Dr. Colin Scott has collected cases of girls who, when angry, would picture them- selves as dead, and the person who had injured them 2 l8 THE CHILD as suffering from roniorsc lie advocates this as a healthy outlet for an emotion which, if kept in and allowed no expression, causes more and more resent- ful brooding over the wrong. It is true that nothing can be worse than to brood over an injury, but expression of the anger is not the only alternative for this. Anything that keeps the mind off the injury and uses u[) the energy is equally service- able. A long walk, chopping wood, carpentry work, em- broidery — anything that is not so habitual as to be auto- matic, anything that forces one to attend to it, may be the vent for anger. Then after a time, the first strength of the emotion passes away, and we can combat it by reason and by the cultivation of love or pity in its place. It is doubtful if anything but harm comes from allow- ing ourselves to express any bad emotion. The very expression recnforces the feeling and makes it more lasting. We can do naught but condemn the atti- tude which is cultivated by picturing one's self as the injured party, the cause of remorse to others. One may or may not have been injured when one has been angered, but whether one has or not, the pose of self- righteousness, of the injured martyr, is the pose of a prig and has nothing admirable in it. In short, to repress the expression of anger, and to cultivate the expression of love, is in large part to repress the anger and increase the love, and is the best training in self-control. Jealousy appears very early, even in the nursing child, who gets angry if another child is given his bottle. It is caused by any prospect of another Jealousy. . j j i ir usurping one's own pleasures, and is best treated in much the same way as anger — by the culti- vation of sympathy and love. FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 219 None of the emotions of children have been so care- fully studied as fear; for there is none which gives more anxiety to parents or is more difficult . . . Fear, to overcome, especially with little children. Many students of child nature believe that there are instinctive fears, as well as fears that are the result of sad experiences. Others maintain that fears cannot properly be called instinctive because the objects which call them out vary widely. Thus some children are always afraid of darkness; others are wholly unaffected. Perhaps in view of this variation we shall be nearest the truth if we say that anything which makes a child feel helpless or insecure, or that startles him, is very likely to cause fear. The very first fears, which come at least as early as the third month, are due almost entirely to sudden sur- prise. Loud or unexpected sounds, therefore, such as thunder or the banging of a door, or the furious bark- ing of a dog, are the most common causes of these fears. A little later, strange objects and persons call out protests and tears from many children, but the fear is only slight. The recovery from it may be followed by laughter and delight. This makes it possible to train a child to face little fears, and afterward larger ones, bravely. In Sully's record the first fears of things seen were called out by a strange place in the fourth month, and by a strange face in the sixth month. This latter fear was not overcome for a year. New clothes may cause terror, and tossing in the arms and learning to walk alone also cause many fears. In both these cases, the feeling of insecurity is doubtless the potent factor. Dolls that have anything unusual about the-m, such as 220 THE CHILD oddness, or uf:^liness, or broken members, also arouse fear. In this class also should t)e put fears of appar- ently uncaused occurrences, such as a feather floating in the air, or the shadow of a cloud moving over the grass. Some observers of animals claim that this is what makes horses shy at a bit of paper in the road. The story of the dog who was frightened into a fit by seeing a bone moved by an invisible thread also belongs here. Fear of the dark does not occur until the fourth month or later, as a rule, and is closely connect(;d with imagination. All these fears may rise at any time with children who never had them 'before, and they may persist through life, or remain for only a short time. Fear of black things,, black animals, black dresses, black places, and fears of furs and of teeth, occur also with some children without any experience to justify them. Whether they are re\'erberations of ancestral or prenatal ex[)erience or not, we cannot say. Preyer records that at ten months, his boy was afraid of high tones; and at twenty-one months, of the sun. Doubtless each parent can cite other individual instances. Let us consider now the proportions of children who have and who have not fears, and the numbers and the causes of the fears. It seems to be the Percentage ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ children fear more kinds of of fears. things than normal children, and have more imaginary fears. The sense of helplessness is more prominent. Imbeciles, on the other hand, have fewer fears, for they do not know enough to be afraid. Miss Calkins has investigated the fears of children with these results: feelings and emotions All Children 221 Under 3 Vears 3 TO 6 Years 6 TO i6 Years No fear 39?^ 6i 11-5% 88.5 5 % Fear 88.2 Comparison of Boys and Girls Under 6 Years 6 TO 16 Years Boys Girls Boys Girls No Fear 17.4% 82.6 24.2^ 75.8 1-7% 08.3 0% Fear 100 The girls show less variety in their fears and are less afraid of imaginary things than the boys. Under three years, 66 per cent of the fears were of things seen, and 23 per cent of things heard, an exact reversal of the fears of the baby. Both of these diminish somewhat by the sixth year, and the number of miscellaneous fears increases. The change in the objects of fear at different ages is also very interesting: z X H Ui p., H s < Q II .-1 < si u H < Under 6 years. . . . 9 to 14 years 7-3% 2.2 17.2% 2.4 2.5% 2.2 9.8% 1-3 14-7% 60.6 26.2% 13-7 4% 93 Imaginary fears increase from 27 per cent at the age of six to 55 per cent at fourteen. Indeed, we may probably class the enormous increase in the fear of wild animals as an imaginary fear to a large extent, for few children have any actual experience with wild animals. The fear of domestic animals decreases. All fears of the other things with which the child deals constantly, decrease steadily, except fear of nature. 222 THE CHILD Here the fcclinj^of helplessness and uncertainty seems to increase with experience. A comparison of these observations with the reminiscences collected by Dr. Hall which are far more numerous than any others, and by Ilolbrook, will be of interest. OiijECTS OF Fear Under 23 Years of Age Hall Calkins HOLBROOK Girls 14% Boys 9'/o 1% Persons II II 6 6 ') 9 9 4 3 7.6% 18 Darkness 4-4 22 Death 6 Domestic animals.. 1S.4 43-4 12 Rats and mice 4 4 4 31 3 3 2| 2| t 3 2i 2 I' 2 2 Ghosts Wind 2.2 I'a End of world Water Miscellaneous 3 I Hill 3 4 Dr. Hall gives an average of 2.21 per cent fears for each boy, and 3.55 for each girl, while from other figures he gets an average of 2.58 for each boy, and 5.46 for each girl. F"or different ages the averages are: Under 4 4 TO 7 7 TO II II TO 15 15 TO 18 18 TO 26 Bovs 1.76% 4.89 1.5% 2.44 3-56% 4-34 3.69% 6.22 3.60% 10.67 2.55% Girls 4.31 This directly contradicts Miss Calkins' observations for children under the age of six, as she found that FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 223 girls have fewer fears than the boys; and she does not find the difference after six so great as Dr. Hall does. In considering the objects of fear, we find two seri- ous discrepancies between the three observers: the fear of darkness varying from 4 per cent to 22 Discrep- per cent; and the fear of wild animals vary- ancles, ing from o to 43 per cent. The other slight variations would probably disappear with more observations, but these two points of variation are difficult to explain. Even if we count reptiles, insects, and rats and mice as wild animals, the total is but 15 per cent as against 43.4 per cent. Evidently much more careful observa- tion is necessary here. Dr. Hall says further that the fear of the world and of kidnapping decreases with maturity, while fear of thunder and lightning, robbers, reptiles, and insects increases. Fear of wind, water, darkness, domestic animals, ghosts, death, and disease increases at pubescence and decreases later. Dr. Hall is very fond of referring fears to ancestral experiences, that is, he makes them instinctive sur- vivals of a life under other conditions. We have already seen, however, that the fears Causes of vary so much that this explanation is hardly tenable. It seems more reasonable to refer many apparently causeless fears to nervous shock or to the feeling of helplessness and strangeness. Of course, pictures and stories are also common causes of fear. Where fear is purely the result of nervous shocks it is difficult to control. Many people who know the harm- lessness of it, are, nevertheless, stricken with terror by thunder. The most that can fear*^°^°^ be done in such cases is to hold the mind to the conviction of the harmlessness of the object 15 224 THE CHILD feared. In otlur cases, such as fear of the dark, or of ghosts, entire control can be attained by this method, especially if the child's pride is stimulated so that he wants to overcome his fear. It should be needless to say that a child ought never to be fri<;htened unless fear is the only thing to keep him out of harm. It is true that "a burnt child dreads the fire," and fear is jjotent in main' directions, but the parent or teacher who habitually appeals to it is cultivating low motives. It would, perhaps, be going too far to say that fear should ne\er be employed, but it should be a last resort and the necessity of using it declares a deficiency either in teacher or in child. Bashfulness is an offshoot of fear, the sur\i\-al in a lessened form of what was active terror in our ances- tors. It appears in the little child as an instinctive shrinking from strange persons and things. It is not marked enough to be called fear. However, it may be overcome under proper condi- tions by imitation, but is succeeded in the second or third year by a second shyness, which is due to self- consciousness. The three-year-old hides and yet looks; he wants to become acciuaiiited, but can not for- get himself enough to do so. Such bashfulness is likely to obtrude itself under unusual circumstances until adolescence is passed. Out of nine hundred children 40 per cent remember a Christmas or a birthday as the happiest day of their lives; and 25 per cent remember an excur- Joysand ^-^^^ ^^ ^ picnic on account of the fun that Borrows. ' they had. Anything of a pleasing nature which introduces novelty into a child's life delights him. FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 2 2=5 The death of some relati\-e or friend caused the nnhappiest day for 50 per cent of the children, while sickness, physical punrshnient or disappointment caused it for 35 per cent. In general, the greatest joys and sorrows of a child at any time or age are con- nected with the satisfaction or thwarting of his strong- est interest. The first expression of sympathy is purely imita- tive. The baby of six months draws down his mouth when others cry, and laughs in response to laughter. If James's theory of the emo- an™pity^ tions be true, this instinctive reaction creates a corresponding state of mind, at least to a slight degree, which is the basis of sympathy. As a child grows older, he learns more and more by experience what states of feeling certain expressions stand for, and is able to put hiniself into the other person's place. Preyer records that in the twenty- seventh month his son cried with pity at seeing paper dolls cut in two. This first pity is, as we should expect, shown in connection with physical things — hunger and cold, lack of shelter and clothing. On the other hand, children frequently laugh at deformity and sorrow. One of the sad chapters in the lives of feeble-minded children is that they can seldom be allow^ed to play with normal children because they are badly treated. Such ill treatment is not, however, so much a sign of cruelty in children as of ignorance, and can usually be cured by showing the child the real suffering that he is causing. In the same way he can be taught kindness to ani- mals. It is certainly true that very often when children are hurting animals cruelly and are laughing at their 226 "^"^ CHILD contortions of pain, they do not sec anythinj^ more than the mere movements, as of_ a jumping-jack. Their fondness for practical jokes shows this same charac- teristic. The only cure for such lack of sympathy is a wide experience and a constant exercise of the imag- ination in "putting yourself in his place." When Marie Antoinette was told that the starving peasants of France had no bread to eat she askdA in all simplic- ity, "Then why do they not eat cake?" She lacked the experience necessary for sympathy. It is commonly said that the child's first affection is given to his mother and is based upon his physical dependence on her and his pleasure in the warmth and comfort he obtains from her. It is difficult, however, to see how anything but the feeling of dependence and of personal enjoyment can rise from this basis. Rather we take the ground that Dewey does, that sympathy which seeks an outlet in action is love, and that antipathy which seeks an out- let in action is hate. When our liking for a person depends solely upon his usefulness to us, it is unworthy of the name of love. To return to the baby, his first spontaneous caresses, are, naturally enough, given to the one who tends him and whom he knows best — his mother. As he grows older, the love of parents and of friends can show itself more and more in different ways, and his first responses, which were to a large extent instinctive and vague, also become more varied. His love for his parents deepens and widens to include friends and God. Mothers sometimes lament the growth of their chil- dren to manhood and womanhood, as if the bonds of PEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 227 love were lessened thereby. This may happen where a child is allowed to accept without any return the greatest sacrifices from his parents. He is thereby taught selfishness and allowed to jjf affection think that his good is distinct from his par- ents' and superior to it. It is sometimes said that the most selfish person is the one most tenderly loved. There is a certain truth in this. Love is, in its very nature, active and self-sacrific- ing, and increases in proportion to what it does. If it is expended upon a selfish person who is believed to be worthy of it, or if it is called out toward a sick or helpless person, it finds ample room for growth. So when a child is little, the parents' love is peculiarly tender, and it is hard to have this love grow into a different, though equally strong one, and still harder to train the child to love by teaching him sympathy and service. Love and service are, however, inseparable terms, and so, even from babyhood, the little one should be allowed and encouraged to do his best in helping about the house, in comforting his parents in their worries and in celebrating their joys. In every possible case some act expressive of his love should be suggested, and with it, the loving word and the caress. Anglo-Saxons are prover- . Caresses, bially reserved; in our fear of hypocrisy, we go to the other extreme of reticence. Many a child can remember each individual kiss that he has received from parents who would give their lives for him if necessary, and who do sacrifice many pleasures and luxuries. Such restraint works a harm to the child in allowing him to believe himself unloved in 228 "^"^ CHILD contrast to his more fortunate companions wiio are kissed and caressed. He is not of an age to under- stand tile love that gives up comforts to provide him an education, while leaving him without the loving woid and the kiss for which he longs. Parents do themselves wrong in their children's e)'es, and hurt the children by such methods. Is it not better to have both the act ami the word or caress? \V(" understand that words without deeds are \ain, hut wh}' should we not have words with deeds? Finally, there is no better way to cast out hate, jeal- ousy and all tlu;ir brood than by service; loving serv- ice if possible but any sort of service at Love and ^^j.^j. ^^^ ^yhich we can persuade the child, service. ' A forced kindness later becomes sponta- neous if persisted in. While it may only breed hypoc- risy in a child to compel him to treat kindly a child whom he dislikes, yet we can very often call his attention to some interesting or lovable or pitiable trait so that he will of his ow^n accord help the child and grow to like him. Richter tells us to teach our children to love, and they will need no ten commandments, and we have a higher authority than his for the belief that the Law and the prophets are summed up in the command- ments to love God, and to love our neighbor. REFERENCES Baldwin, J. Mark. Bashfulness in Children. Educ. Rev., Vol. VIII., 434-441. (Same as in Menial Development.^ Mental Development: Methods and Processes. See Index. N. Y., Macmillan. $1.75. Bowles, Mary E. Emotions of Deaf Children Compared with Emo- tions of Hearing Children. Fed. Sent., October, 1S95, 331-334. FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 229 Boyd, A. K. H. Concerning the Sorrows of Childhood. Adafttic, Mo., Vol. IX. Carpenter, E. Affection in Education. /;//. Joicr. of Ethics, 1899, Vol. IX., 4S2-494 Compayre, G. Ijitellectiial and Moral Development of the Child, 165-208. First Emotions. N. Y., App'.eton. $1.50. Darwin, C. Biography of a Child. Mind, 1S77. Dugas, L. Ea timiditt. Paris, Alcan. Falkenthal, K. Emotional Life of Children. Wellesley Coll. Psy. Studies. Fed. Sem., Vol. III., 3i9-3.",o. Groos, Karl. The Play of Man, 166-169, 232-237. N. Y., App'e- ton. $1.50. Hall, G. S. Anger. Am. four. Psy., 1899, ^o^- ^-^ 516-591. Education of the Heart. Kgn. Mag., May, 1S99, Vol. XI., 5Q2-595. (Asserts that children need the rod, fighting, etc., to prevent them from becoming parasites.) Fears. Am. four. Psy., 1897, Vol. VIII., 147-249. Hall, G. S., and AUin, A. Psychology of Tickling, Laughing and the Comic. Am. four. Psy., Vol. IX., 2-40, 234-240. Hall, G. S., and Saunders, F. H. Pity. Am. four. Psy., Vol. XL, 534-591. Harrison, M. M. Child's Sense of Fear. Arena, 1S96, 960-969. Holbrook, A. S. Fear in Childhood. Barnes's Studies in Educ, pp. 18-21. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. Kitchin, J. M. W. Infantile Grief. Babyhood, June, 1892. Maitland, Louise. Children's Attitude towards Ghosts. (Fear.) Barnes's St icdies in Ed., b^-bi, 176-177. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. Mosso, A. Fear, Chapter XI. N. Y., Longmans. $1.75. Perez, B. First Three Years of Childhood, Chapter V. Syra- cuse, Bardeen. $1.50. Preyer, W. Senses and Will, 140-176. N. Y., Appleton. $1.50. Ribot, Th. Psychology of Emotions. See Index. N. Y., Scrib- ner. §1.25. Siviter, Anna P. Fear of Childhood. Kgn. Mag., October, 1899, Vol. XII., 82-87. Stanley, Hiram, Evolutionary Psychology of Feeling. See Index. N. Y., Macmillan. §2.25. Stevenson, A. Jealousy in Infants. Science, October, 1892. 2 ->0 THE CHILD Stiyker, Mabel F. Children's Joys and Sorrows. C. S. Af., October, 1898, 217-225. Sully, James. Studies of Childhood. Subject of Fear. 190-227. N. Y., Appleton. $2.50. Vostrovsky, Clara. Children's Superstitions. Barnes's Studies in EduCt 122,-11^3. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. CHAPTER XII Interests The use of the plural number in the title — interests instead of interest — emphasizes the fact that we do not wish to concern ourselves with the dis- introduc- cussion of theories so much as with the ^^°^- presentation of observed facts. We shall touch upon the various theories of interest— the singular— only incidentally, and instead shall discuss what children are interested in and what bearing their interests have upon our treatment of them. In discussions of interest, it is usually assumed that every one knows what interest is and what it involves; but there is, in reality, no one mental attitude more difficult to disentangle Jl5;erest! from others than this one. So closely is it connected with our feelings and emotions, our expec- tations and reasons, our decisions and will, that we stand amazed at its complexity. Interest seems to express the whole personality more ..completely than any other mental attitude.) Show me a man's interests and I know the man, both his habits and his ideals. We might say that interest is the impulse to self-preservation, directed toward a definite object or idea. It is the impulse of the man to realize himself in some particular form. The musi- cian's interests, the business man's interests, the scholar's interests are, each of them, the man's desire impelling him to secure the satisfying thing, 2"-, I THE CHILD Interest is not, then, a passive thing in the begin- ning. We arc interested in so far as we take an inter- est or have an interest. This first interest, it is true, may have others derived from it, but we must at the beginning hold an active attitude toward life rather than a passive one. The baby's eye longs for light and so receives it gladly. His hands crave things to touch as much as his lungs crave air. So we find con- stant action and reaction between the baby and his surroundings. Interest thus includes both feeling and thought and points toward action. It is the focusing of the state of consciousness preliminary to action. It is atten- tion, but attention with especial reference to the feeling which prompts it and to the action which follows. Concerning the feelings which prompt interest we may sav that they are in the first place instinctive feel- ings, the reverberations of ancestral expe- H^ffi^y . riences. and interest. i -i i There can be no doubt now that any child is not simply the child of his parents, but of all his ancestors. Traits that do not appear in either father or mother, but that go back to some ancestor of perhaps a hundred years before, may suddenly crop out in some feature, some deformity or beauty, some trick of voice or carriage. When we consider that if we carry direct inheritance back only eight generations, there are two hundred and fifty-six direct ancestors, we can see how immensely complicated a thing inheritance is. Eight generations are nothing to an individual with an ances- try going back millions of years, and >'ct, if the present view of inheritance be true, all those millions of years INTERESTS 2 "^ 3 of inheritance of living- and acting arc summed u}) in each one of us to-day. Biologists have proved again and again that the human embryo in its development passes through well-marked stages representing the great divisions of animal life, and now anthropologists are teaching us that from birth to maturity the child also passes through definite stages representing the progress of mankind. Neither biologists nor anthropologists claim that the child repeats all the stages of evolution. Rather, he goes through only certain of the most im- portant ones, and skips the rest. What is true on the side of physical growth seems also to be true on the side of feeling and acting. All babies have certain instinctive ways of feeling and acting toward certain stimuli, and these are what prompt them to learn more about the object or to get away from it, that is, to show an interest, either pleasurable or painful. Such a feeling is not by itself an interest. An inter- est comes when the craving receives satisfaction from some definite object. The baby sees and grasps the bright soft ball and then has an interest in the ball. The artist imagines the beautiful form. He has an interest in it. In all cases, when the obscure craving finds some definite object, or idea, which joins to it satisfaction or frustration, there is a pleasurable or painful interest. Interests may be either natural or acquired — natural, when the object or idea is in itself attractive Acquired or repellent; acquired, when it derives its and natural • , . r ,, • 1 interests, mterest trom somethmg else. A beautiful color, or a loud sound, are examples of the first. If, however, we love the color because it is THE CHILD a dear friend's favorite, the interest is derived; so also if we dislike the sound because it reminds us of a dreadful accident. Acquired interests call into play an appreciation of the relation of means to ends and of effects to causes; natural interests do not. As interests thus call into play both feeling and thinking and point toward action, we shall get the best concrete view of them available with our present knowledge by presenting a brief summary of what we have had so far and an outline of the consequent action. That is, we shall try to draw a picture of the child at each of the typical stages: (i) Babyhood, up to the acquisition of speech; (2) early childhood, up to the second dentition; (3) later childhood, to the advent of puberty; and (4) adolescence, to the completion of the bodily growth. For the first two months of his life, we may fairly say that the baby's chief interest is in what goes into his mouth. Not only are the lips and the of^bib?Loo? tongue the parts most sensitive to touch, but touch is relatively more developed than other senses. Hearing is imperfect and sight is short and uncontrolled. The arms and legs are not under control for grasping and creeping, so that the baby must perforce wait for what comes his way. Further- more, he spends a large part of his day in sleep. What little display of anger he makes is when he does not get his food promptly. So the baby is a dimly-see- ing, dimly-hearing, little creature, sleeping much of the time and conscious chiefly of the satisfaction of food. During the third month, however, with more distinct seeing and the rise of memory, comes a marked interest INTERESTS 235 in seeing things. Now the baby holds his head up, twists his head and body to see things, and studies everything about him, learning it in its various appear- ances. The interest in suckable objects continues and is strong, but its prominence is relatively less because visible objects have now become so interesting. From the fourth to the sixth month, both of these interests continue, and are fed and supplemented by the great interest in graspable objects. Grasping and sucking, seeing and grasping, seeing", grasping and sucking are now combined and find their satisfaction in superlatively interesting, seeable graspable and suckable objects. The baby is now getting control of his body, and between the fifth and sixth months the rise of the instinct of imitation gives him endless desire to exer- cise this new control. Anything which he can imitate now becomes interesting and as the movements and voices of persons are most imitable, they become most interesting to him. The instinct of speech arises a little later, and then the baby begins to babble and to imitate the sounds about him. After some months of babbling and imitating he succeeds in beginning to use speech as well as gestures and cries to express his thought. The craving of the growing limbs for more exercise results in creeping and later in walking, with the wide range of new activities and interests thus made pos- sible. So, during the first year and a half, the baby's inter- ests are connected with the exercise and control of the sense-organs and of the larger muscles of the body. By the end of this time he can usually walk and 2 -ig THE CHILD talk, and use his five senses with a fair decjree of accu- racy, though he still is lacking in control in many respects. From the acc^uisition of speech to the time of the second dentition, the interests of babyhood are still ^ ^ ^ strong, but are shown in more attention to Interests =>' ... ., , ofeariy the details of the acti\ities. The chnd childhood. j^^^y jjj^^g J.Q playgames that test the sharp- ness of the senses; he likes to experiment with new movements — to walk on tiptoe, to skip and dance, to play finger-games, to draw, to string beads and so on. His interest in imitating persons is greater than before. His plays at this time are very largely imi- tative. He imitates persons more than he does any- thing else. He personifies all sorts of inanimate objects, and the only cause he knows is a personal one. Through his interest in imitating persons he enters into the race interests which are going on about him — learns in a crude way how we get our food and so on. His interest in language persists in various forms, such as his delight in nonsense rhymes and his persistent desire to name all the objects he sees. His love of rhythm is also prominent and is closely connected with the increasing control of his move- ments. During the latter part of this period some new and strong interests arise. As memory and imagination develop they introduce the child to another world which he finds that he can change to suit hinTself, while he can not so alter the world of his senses. The love of power which in his babyhood was gratified by his new control of his body, now finds another source of INTERESTS 237 gratification in this mental play. We find him, there- fore, listening to and inventing tales of marvel and mystery. The rise of an interest in causes at this time also leads to wonderings and questionings and to specula- tions sometimes startling in their shrewdness. With many children there also seems to be an interest in enumeration and in quantities, as seen in the love of counting and in the comparisons of size. In the little child, then, up to the time of the second dentition, the interests are to a large extent confined to his delight in the feeling of his own activities and of his increasing control of them. On the physical side this appears in his enjoyment of plays that exercise his senses, in his practice of all movements that are a little difficult for him, and in his use of rhythm and of nonsense rhymes. On the mental side, it appears in his love of imagining and inventing, in his counting and measuring, and in his ceaseless questioning. The union of the two and also the growth of his social interests is marked above all by his love of imitation, the most characteristic interest of this period. In these early years the interests are immediate ones. The child enjoys the action for its own sake without much reference to any end. Little children who are playing "Pom pom pullaway," for instance, may for- get all about the goal in the delight of running, and end the game in a chase. So also a little fellow begins to draw the story of the Three Bears, gets interested in making the bear and covers his paper with bears. The movement or activity is what he enjoys. He does not care for making some thing so much as he does for going through the movements of making. On this 238 THE CHILD account a little child is usually easily diverted from one thing to another, if only the new thing allows the same general movements as the old. Educationally this is the period when interests can be given a more definite and permanently valuable form if the parent or teacher provides the materials for the child to work with, and surrounds him with a life that is worth the imitation. In the period from the second dentition to puberty, there is a great widening of interests due, on the Interests physiological side, to the rapid growth of ofiater association-fibers in the brain. The char- chiidnood. ^^^g^ Qf ^j^g interest changes materially. The little child, as we have just said, is interested prin- cipally in doing for its own sake, and when he wearies of one activity, he turns at once to a new one. As he gets older, he begins to do things for the sake of get- ting or having something else. He makes the distinc- tion between end and means more clearly and the means have an acquired interest lent them by the nat- ural interest that the end has for him. Where the little child is well satisfied with the scrawl that he calls his drawing, the older will erase and draw over, and perhaps not be satisfied even when he is all through. The little child wants to put on his pretty dress regard- less of all else. The older child may want to also, but when he goes to make mud pies, he realizes the use of the plain dress. It has an acquired value, while the pretty dress has a natural value. Such acquired interests constantly increase in num- ber and in remoteness from the end, until we find the man or woman working for an end in a drudgery that has in itself little that is pleasant. THE CHILD 239 The child of this age has interests outside of his own narrow circle, although they are still interests in per- sons. Thus a beginning can be made in ... , . . 1 • 1 I • i c I Interests in history and science, the idea b THE CHILD indi\i(lual self is yielded to his social self, in ways both traffic and comic — in the dex'otion to dress and man- ners as well as ill the ahaiidoiinicnt to religious exalta- tion. It is hardly stating it too strongly to say that the key to the adolescent is his interest in living up to what he conceives to be the social demands upon him. CcMitrol of him lies to a large extent, therefore, in controlling his conceptions of what these social demands are, and this is not a matter that begins only with adolescence. We ha\'e had occasion to remark many times before that social habits must be inculcated from the begin- ning, and we can now see the imi:)ortance of Importance . ^ ' of early this. ihe youth who has now awakened social to ^ vi\id interest in his relations toothers training. , , • r i , , • , , . has his sense of what these relations should be determined in part by the social habits which he has already accpiircid, and in part by the customs of the particular people with whom he is now thrown. Where the two sets of customs disagree, as is often the case, the child's consciousness of his own ambiguous position is very keen, and he brings all his judgment and reason to bear upon his decisions as to what he should do. Now he is fortunate if his social habits and his training in independent judgment are such that he can trust to his habits for all the smaller details of deportment and dc\-ole himself to the (juestion of what his ideal shall be for the vital questions of life. In the shaping of this ideal or interest, as we have already said, we must call into play all the influences of surroundings — books, pictures, etc. — but more important than any of thi-se to the adolescent is the wise and untiring friendship of some older person, INTERESTS 247 teacher or parent. Fortunate is the youth whose father and mother are his best friends — and sadly lacking in some respect are the parents who have not kept close enough to their children to be their best friends. We hear a great deal of talk about the importance of keeping children interested. Unless children like a school duty, a task, a dress, or a certain kind of food, it is assumed that they ought ^nt^efeSl^""^ not to be bothered with it. It is claimed they must follow their interests; that is, apparently, their caprices. What right have we to impose our likes on them? They surely should be as free as others to express their whole nature without let or hindrance. On the other side there are still advocates of the idea that the natural man is full of evil desires, so that the very fact that a child wants a thing is one good reason why he should not have it. Moreover, say these duty- lovers, life is full of disagreeable things that must be done. No one can succeed who does not learn to do cheerfully tasks that he dislikes. All progress is made only by pain and suffering in giving up our natural desires and in struggling toward our ideal, which we see is right but do not yet love. Therefore, say these stern teachers, the truest kindness consists in training our children to do work that they do not like. We should not appeal to their interests, but rather to the right, and lead them to make their interests agree with what is right. The happiness of a child is of very little account if only he is led into the paths of right- eousness. So hold the two extremes. Probably the majority of parents and teachers hold a middle ground, not believing either that the child should be wholly indulged or thwarted, and indulging or 2^3 THE CHILD thwarting according to their own particular likes. The mother who likes cabbage and does not like tomatoes, will usiialU' feed her child the same way. The father who never lies, but finds it easy to criticise or back- bite his neighbor, will probably rebuke falsehood but let backbiting go unscathed. The parent who dislikes arithmetic and enjoys history finds it easy to condone his child's stupidity in the first but not in the second. In all cases we seem to lack any standard by which we judge whether or not a given trait in our child should be encouraged, whether or not he should be given free- dom to develop his own natural self. Now it is unquestionably a difficult thing to know what we shall do in any given case. On the one side, we want our children to grow up good citizens, good members of the family, and seekers after righteousness. On the other, we do not want them to be confined, fear- ful, distrustful of self; we wish ihem to live a broad, free life, to feel the swing and delight of power, and to live with force and vigor. Between the two we stand puzzled. If what we have said of social recapitulation be true, a child is at birth a bundle of strong but vague impulses and instincts that have come to Race inter- j^j^^^ ^^.^^^^^ numberless ancestors, that press ests vs. mdi- . . . viduai him into constant action in this way and interests. j^^ ^[^.^^^ ^^^^ ^l^j.^j. ^ause great unhappiness and dwarfed development if repressed. We have had very elaborate theories worked out of these race-stages or culture-epochs, through which each child jiasses, and the ])roper studies for him at each stage, but such theories can not be said to have scien- tific value as yet. We can not say that because the race has gone through a certain stage, therefore the INTERESTS 249 child must go through it. We must instead study chil- dren, both individually and collectively, to see what race-stages they do repeat in fact, and the longer this study goes on, the more certain it is that only certain steps of race-progress are repeated in the individual. Still further, the fact that a child is in a certain cul- ture-epoch, does not mean that he must have only literature of that epoch to nourish his mind. It means rather that he is interested in the prominent activity of that period, and wants to go through that activity himself in the rough. It would be strange indeed if these impulses were either entirely good or entirely bad. They are all sur- vivals of a ruder civilization, and their value can be de- termined not merely by their antiquity, but by their adaptability to present-day conditions. The habitual criminal is looked upon to-day as a person whose interests belong in the ages when violence was neces- sary to self-preservation; but these interests are not suited to civilized life, and so their possessor must give them up, or go to dwell among barbarians, or be confined in prison. As a rule, however, these instincts and impulses are fluent enough to take the usual social channels. It is the task of the parent and teacher to provide outlets which will utilize these streams of energy, instead of damming them. The training of interests consists, then, primarily in directing impulse and instinct to a worthy end, by all means — suggestion, good surroundings. Direction stimulation of curiosity, and so on. If an better than , , 1 1 i repression, impulse can be so employed as to con- tribute to the family life, the best possible thing is done. If conditions do not allow of this, at least the 2 CO THE CHILD parents can take a rational attitude toward the chil- dren, instead of assuminj^ that all the children want is to make trouble. We find, for instance, that as a rule parents are decidedly opposed to their boys digging caves. Under the usual conditions, where the cav^e is made a rendezvous for smoking and reading dime novels, there is good reason for objection. But are such conditions necessary? Surely not. So again, little children who run away do it usually because their own yard is so small and their companions are so few that they can not resist temptation. Instead of for- bidding them the freedom, we should rather exert our ingenuity to make the freedom safe, for through such wanderings a child acquires valuable independence, gets a sense of direction and distance, and makes his first venture into the social world outside the home. In general, then, we may say that we should not condemn a child's impulses unless they are of such a definite, fixed, and base nature as to work decided harm to himself or others. We should not try to repress impulses so much as to direct them into useful channels by suggesting to the children definite and valualDle ends to be accomplished. REFERENCES Allin, A. Social Recapitulation. Ediic. Rev., 1899, 344-352. Baldwin, J. Mark. Genesis of Social Interests. Monist, 1S97, 340-357. (Same as in Mental Development.) Mental Development, Social and Ethical Interpretations. See Index. N, Y. Macmillan, §2.60. Burk, C. F. Collecting Instinct. Fed. Sem., 1900, 179-207. Bulk, P., and Frear, C. St tidy of Kindergarten Problem. San Francisco. Whitaker, §0.50. Dawson, G. E. Children's Interest in the Bible. Ped. Sem., 1900, 151-178. INTERESTS 251 Dewey, J. Interest as Related to Will. First Hcrbartian Year Book, \'i,()S- Second Supplement. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. (Excellent on the theory of Interest.) Guillet, C. Recapitulation and Education. Fid. Sent., 1900, 397-445- Hall, G. S. Children's Collections. Fed. Sem., 1891, 234-236. Hancock. Mental Differences of Children. Proc. N. E. A , 1897, 851-857. Harris, W. T. Interest and Will. Education, March, 1896. Psychologic Foiindatiotis of Education. See Index. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. Hogan, Louise. Study of a Child. Harper's, June, 1898. Jones, H. Social and Individual Evolution. New World, 1898, 453-469- Kline, L. W. Truancy as Related to the Migrating Instinct. Fed. Sen!., Vol. V., 381-420. Lawrence, Isabel. Children's Interests in Literature. Proc. A' E. A., 1899, 1044-51. Luckey, G. W. A. Practical Results Obtained from Study of Children's Interest. Proc. N. E. A., 1897, p. 284. McMurry, C. Interest. Ed. Rev., February, 1896. Monroe, W. J. Social Consciousness of Children. Proc. N. E. A., 1898, 921-928. Ostermann, W. Interest in Its Relation to Pedagogy. N. Y. Kellogg, $1.00. Perkins. F. B. Childhood: A Study. Atlantic Monthly, Yo\. XVIII. Rein (Van Liew's translation). Outlines of Pedagogics. See Index. Syracu.se. Bardeen, §1.25. Rooper, T. G. TJie Child: His Studies and Occupations. N. Y. Kellogg, $0.15. St. John, G. E. Children's Interests. C. S. M., Vol. III., 284. Vandewalker, Nina. Culture-Epoch Theorj'. Educ. Rev., January-May, 1898, 374-391. (Very good.) Van Liew, C. E. Culture-Epoch Theory. First Herbartian Year Book. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. Wilson, W. E. Doctrine of Interest. Ed. Rev., March, 1896. CHAPTER XIII Impulsive, Reflex and Instinctive Movements 1. Keep a record of the development in some indi- vidual child of the movements described in this chap- observa- ter. (i) Impulsive movements. Note tions. especially the posture of the baby in sleep. When does a child begin to sleep lying straight? (2) Reflex movements. Note especially whether, in cases of tickling or of brushing away an object, the baby uses the right hand or the hand on the same side of the body. That is, is he right-handed from birth, and if not, when does right-handedness appear? Note also the earliest inhibitions of movements. (3) Instinc- tive movements. Note especially to what degree the baby is impeded by long clothes. Watch for a climb- ing instinct. If possible, take instantaneous photo- graphs of the nude baby's positions in learning these movements. 2. Gather reminiscences from young people or adults of any one of the following instincts: migrating instinct (running away from home) ; hunting instinct; cave-digging instinct; tent-living instinct; collecting instinct. In all cases note: (i) Age when the instinct developed. (2) Length of time that it lasted. (3) Circumstances that called it out. (4) S.trength. How much could it withstand in the 252 IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 253 way of inducements to other sports, commands of parents against indulging in it, etc.? (5) Is there any tendency to it now, such as hunt- ing trips, camping, etc After how long a period is this ? With the discussion of movements we enter upon the last stage of our subject — the child's doing. Here, as in other cases, we are not preserving a introduc- strictly chronological order in our descrip- *^o^* tion, for as a matter of fact thinking and doing go hand in hand in mental development, each requiring the other in order for it to get beyond the rudimentary stages. So close is this connection that in the chapter on Perception we were obliged to anticipate this phase of the subject by discussing grasping in connection with seeing, and now in considering movements, we shall be referring constantly to the stimulus to movement given by the senses. In thus discussing feeling, thinking, and doing sep- arately, we have been guided principally by the desire to show clearly the continuity of the development of each mental process from birth to maturity, showing, for instance, how the character of conceptions and of religious ideas develops as the child matures. In thus abstracting each mental process from the others in which it is embedded, we do as does the dissector, who follows out before his class the course of but one nerve or blood-vessel, ignoring for the time the complex of other nerves, blood-vessels and tissues that enmesh it. Such a separation is imperative for purposes of study, but it is only preliminary to the attempt to see as a whole the living organism in which each nerve and 254 THE CHILD blood-vessel plays its part. So now that the growth of the child's body and of his mind has been studied, as far as the present state of child-study observations allows, comes at last the consideration of how he, with his body as a tool, learns to express his thouj^dit; for in this expression the whole childish self is most clearly revealed. Precedent to the child's conscious and voluntary expression of thought, however, is a stage during which he has little or no control over his movements. The activities at this stage do indeed express to us the baby's condition and his traits as a member of the human race, but he does not intend to express himself thus, and is unable either to make or prevent his movements voluntarily. Impulsive movements are also called spontaneous, random, or automatic. In the whole discussion of the subject there is great variety both in the Impulsive terms used and in the meanings attached to movements. ° the terms. Some writers class as instinc- tive what others call reflex, and others make instinc- tive movements cover nearly the whole range of human activities. In a book of this nature it would be useless and confusing to discuss and weigh such contacting claims. We shall therefcjre imitate Tracy in using Preyer's classification, making the same reservation that Tracy does — that the use of Preyer's classification does not bind us to accept his theory of will. Impulsive movements are movements resulting from changes within the motor nerve cell itself. They seem to require no stimulus from outside, and no sen- sory elements. Many embryonic movements are impulsive, and also many of the movements present at IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 255 birth, although their variety is not great. There are Stretchings and bendings of arms and legs; spreading and bendings of fingers and toes; striking with the arms; stretching after waking; all sorts of grimaces; movements of the eyeballs before the eyes are opened; Growings and babblings; and the "accompanying movements," such as movements of the arms on hear- ing music or seeing bright colors or tasting agreeable food. The better the health and feeding of the child, the more numerous and vigorous are the movements likely to be. Their general use is evidently that *' . , Direction of they serve as exercises to prepare the mus- themove- cles for later instinctive and voluntary nients. action, and Mumford believes that they are also ves- tiges of movements that once were useful in the bodily economy but are no longer so. They are decaying instincts, so to speak. Why they take the particular form that they do seems to depend upon the prenatal posture and the bodily structure at the time of birth, as Trettien shows. The arm and leg movements are at first always in line with the body, that is, forward and back or up and down, never out and in. In the case of the arms this seems to be due especially to the shape of the chest and shoulders. As the back straightens and the chest expands, side movements become easier. With both arms and legs, the up and down movement is also the most natural on account of the habitual pos- ture of the baby. Trettien shows the habitual posi- tions of arms and hands at great length thus:* *The taWes are based on different numbers of children, vary- ing from 58 to 182. In all cases the tables are given in per cents. 17 256 THE CHILD Position Male Female Average Fingers — Clenched 83% 12 5 69 31 100 66 34 98 2 87% 4 9 65 35 96 4 68 32 92 8 85 Bent 8 Straight 7 C7 33 98 Wrists— Bent Straight Elbows— Bent Straight Shoulders — Bent 67 33 95 Straight Arms — Laid in front Laid at side 5 The legs are habitually bent at the hips and knees, the feet crossed, the soles turned toward the median line and the toes curled down over the soles. The whole body tends to assume the curve of the prenatal position. With such an habitual posture for trunk, arms and legs, and fingers and toes, what other move- ments are probable except the stretching of the back, the unbending of arms and legs, and the spreading of fingers and toes? These movements, as we can easily see, foreshadow the later movements — the arm movements those of reaching and grasping, the leg movements those of walking. We cannot so easily explain the e.xtraordi' nary grimaces which often possess the baby's face at this time, but they probably mark the first paths of the facial expression which is to come later. We find that as voluntary mo\ements increase, impulsive ones decrease in the normal person. Numerous connec- tions between the sensory and the nu)tor centers are formed by education and experience so that the trend of IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 2 "^ 7 development is away from impulsive movements rather than toward them. Yet Compayre maintains that some persist even in the adult. Reflex movements differ from impulsive in that they require a peripheral stimulus to call them out, but, like them, no attention or idea is necessary for the performance. They are inherited, ^^^^^ move- but the baby performs them more slowly and imperfectly at first than later. This is a decided advantage, for the baby has no power to inhibit move- ments for some time after birth, and if the reflexes were easily started, he would be subject to convulsions. Reflex movements may be called out in the latter part of the prenatal life by gentle stroking or by changes of temperature. After birth, they are numerous. Most important of all is the group of periodic reflexes, under which come the various actions necessary to sustain life. To this group belong all the actions connected with respiration. Breathing is itself a reflex act, due to the stimulation of the air, and the cry of the newborn child is caused by the spasmodic action of the larynx when the air reaches it. At first the breathing is very irregular and rapid, sometimes almost ceasing, and then continuing with greater force and rapidity. In the seventh week there are about twenty-eight respirations to the min- ute; in the twenty-eighth month, about twenty-two, but even then a stimulus which is insufficient to wake the sleeping child will cause a rapid increase in the number of respirations. Sneezing is possible even at birth, and with some babies takes the place of the first cry. Preyer pro- duced it on the thirty-eighth day by pouring warm 258 THE CHILD water on the baby's forehead; and on the one hundred and seventieth day by merely blowing in his face. The baby's eyes are always closed in sneezing. Swallowing is present even before birth. Coughing has been observed in the first hour; choking and hic- coughing on the first day; yawning on the seventh day; wheezing and snoring on the twenty-fourth day; and sobbing not until considerably later, about the seventh month in Preyer's boy. Other important periodic reflexes are the heart-beat, the contraction and relaxation of the arteries, the movements of the bowels, and so on. Regurgitation, which occurs as early as the first week, should also be mentioned here. Among reflexes that are not periodic should be men- tioned the group of eye-reflexes. In describing the development of sight these were discussed, and so need only be mentioned here. The entire body reacts to get rid of unpleasant stimuli, even from birth, although it requires a stronger stimulus then than later. The pain-reflexes are the least developed of all at birth. A baby can be pricked with a pin, even until the blood comes in some cases, with- out reacting. But there is a stronger response to some other stimuli. Within five minutes of birth the toes will spread out if tickled, and, like the hands, will clasp any object laid within them. The reflex hand-clasp is one of the most remarkable for its perfection and strength. Robinson examined sixty newborn children and found that within one hour after birth they could all hang suspended from a stick by their hands, for a time varying from two seconds to one minute. Twelve IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 259 hung for one-half minute and four for one minute without crying or showing any signs of distress. The strength of grip increased up to the third week, when several hung for one and one-half minutes. Here there seems to be a distinct survival of arboreal life habits, when the baby had to cling to its climbing mother in order to preserve its own life. All the arm reflexes are stronger at first than the leg reflexes, and the arms are relatively more developed than the legs. Other reflex movements occur to escape persistent stimuli. Preyer found that in tickling the temple the baby usually used the right hand to brush away the object; while Pfliiger maintains that the hand on the same side is used as a rule. At first, as mentioned above, a baby has no control over its reflex movements; they must follow when the stimulus is given, whether he wishes them or not. Preyer dates the first inhibitions between the ninth and twelfth months when the child begins to show some slight control over bowel movements; but, although observations are lacking, one may fairly question whether before this time there are not some inhibitions of arm and leg reflexes or of those connected with respiration. In all cases the control is irregular at first, and fails if the child is tired, inattentive or not well. Instinct is differently defined by different writers, and the distinction between it and reflexes is by no means hard and fast. Instinctive move- t-rr c a 1. Instinctive ments seem to differ from reflex movements movements. principally in being more complex and in having a less developed mechanism for their perform- ance than reflexes have. 26o "^"^ CHILD Instinctive acts arc inhc:ritcd, that is, there is an inborn disposition to their performance, but they require a stimulus to start them, and they may be greatly modified or even suppressed by training. They are acts which have been serviceable to the race and are present to a greater or less degree in every mem- ber of it, but in man they vary so in their manifesta- tions that it is almost impossible to know what actions have an instinctive root and what have not. There are, however, certain acts which are clearly instinc- tive. In this list belong sucking, biting, chewing, grinding the teeth, and licking. Sucking comes the nearest of Movements any of these to a reflex act, and is some- centering times classed as one because brainless chil- about tlie mouth. dren perform it as well as normal ones. It is usually complete at birth, but in some cases has to be partially taught. It lasts in its full strength until the first teeth come, but as we have already noted, for a long time most objects go to the child's mouth to be sucked and licked before the child feels that he really knows them, and even the adult likes at times to put something into his mouth to suck. Licking usually accompanies sucking, and is present even on the first day. Biting and chewing are instinctive acts which may appear as early as the fourth month, before any teeth are through. A baby will bite and chew his fingers, his rattle, the glass he drinks out of, etc. Grinding the teeth also appears to be a regular occupation. It may be done when but two teeth are through, but usually not until about the ninth month, when four teeth are through. IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 26 I At birth the ability of children to lift their heads varies considerably. In some even on the first day, there is enough surplus energy to lift the head from its support; in others, ^"e^^g^//^ not until the second or third week. The neck muscles are very small at birth, and increase in their growth to nine times their original size at matu- rity. At first the head, when unsupported, drops on the chest and rolls to one side. Preyer maintains that the dropping is not due to muscular weakness, but to lack of will, because even in the first week the head can turn to follow a moving light. This does not prove much, however, for the same muscles are not used in raising the head as in moving it from side to side. Miss Shinn records that at the end of the first month her niece could hold up her head unsteadily for a few seconds, and by the end of the second month could hold it steadily and continuously. Preyer's records date the act between the eleventh and sixteenth weeks, while Demme's observations on one hundred and fifty children place the event between the third and fourth months for strong children; at four and one- half months for moderately strong ones, and in the fifth or sixth month for weakly ones. The child has a strong incentive to hold the head up after the sixth or eighth week, for then convergence and accommodation of the eyes are established, so that he can see clearl5^ The attempts to raise the head not only strengthen the neck muscles, but those of the back and chest as well, so that they prepare the child for erect sitting, which follows almost imme- diately. 262 THE CHILD \\\' have described the development of this instinct Reacbingand <''t length in the cha[)ter on Sensation and grasping. Perception. After the baby can see distinctly and has learned to hokl his head up, he is \'ery likely to resent beint,^ laid down in his crjb, although before he was eilct°^ well satisfied with that position. Now he insists upon a sitting position, where he can see the fascinating world about him. This desire to sit up comes between the second and fourth months as a rule, and the baby will make all sorts of efforts to lift himself by a supporting finger, or by strain of the abdominal muscles. He is very unlikely to succeed, howe\'er, unless he is somewhat raised to begin with, for neither back nor abdomen are strong enough alone. A baby who thus wants to see but cannot sit alone, should be proxided with a cushioned support that will support and }'et yi^ IJ ti movements, so that he can carry on his education without harm to himself. He will also get practice? in sitting in his bath and in lai)s, and by some time between the fifth and eighth months will be able to sit alone on a hard smooth surface. By the eleventh month the bab\''s seat is firm, although when reaching for things he sometimes tips over. Both Preyer and Trettien insist that a baby should rather be discouraged than encouraged to sit alone, and that the back should at first be supported by a pil- low. Preyer says that he should not be allowed to sit up until he has proved his fitness by raising himself with- out encouragement from a prone to a sitting position. The first sitting position is very awkward. Usually the knees are bent and the soles turned toward each other like a monkey's. IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 263 In learning to walk, there are several well-defined stages. In the first place, long before the babv makes any attempts to move from the place where . , . . , . Locomotion, he IS laid, his legs as well as his arms make various movements. These are, as we have seen, impulsive at first, but later they become a source of great pleasure to the baby, and by the third or fourth month he is kicking up his legs as much as his elabo- rate clothing will allow. The movements become rhythmic and alternating, evidently an advance towards stepping, and by the seventh month, he will straighten and press his legs against an opposing sur- face and, if held up, begin to take steps. He also enjoys standing when supported. He is still, however, very far from independent walking, and goes through at least one preliminary stage, and often two or three, which are useful in strengthening the various muscles that will later be used in walking. When a baby is strong enough, if laid on his back, he will roll over onto his stomach, sometimes just for love of the movement, sometimes accident- ally in reaching for an object. Mrs. Hall's baby turned from side to back in the ninth week, but not from side to side until the middle of the seventh month, and Miss Shinn's niece began her career of rolling near the end of the sixth month, and con- tinued it with increasing vigor up to the eighth month, when creeping began. "She would now roll over and over in any direction, not to get anywhere in partic- ular, but just for the fun of the thing. She varied the exercise with the most lively kicking, the heels raised in the air and brought down together with astonishing vigor and zest; or with twisting about and getting on 264 THE CHILD hands and knees, or even on hands and feet, prattling joyously and having a beautiful time all by herself for as long as the authorities would leave her alone." Instead of rolling, some babies stumble upon hitch- ing. They jerk themselves along from one side to the other, backwards or forwards, in a most ungainly fashion. Where there is hitching it may precede creep- ing, or may take its place. Trettien gives the following per cents, based on returns from seventy-five boys and seventy-five girls, to show the usual mode of locomo- tion: Of the one hundred' and fifty children, 60 p^ cent of them crept, 30 per cent hitched, 7 per cent rolled, and 3 per cent crawled, humped, made swim- ming movements, etc. He does not note in how many of these children both creeping and some other form of locomotion preceded walking. By the sixth or scxenth month a baby begins to get up onto his hands and knees, and now and then to stretch or scramble for something that he Creeping. ... . wants. StMiie time between the eighth and eleventh months he begins really to creep. Here also we find all sorts of odd ways. Of the babies Trettien watched, 6 pt;r cent crept backward at first. Both Miss Shinn and ]\Irs. Hall record this. It is due to the fact that the baby's arms are stronger than his legs and are predisposed to push instead of to pull, so that until he has learned to coordinate his movements, he pushes himself away from the object he wants, instead of toward it. Much to his amazement and displeasure he finds it moving away instead of approaching him. However, he soon learns better. The relative movements of hands and knees are almost as varied as the number of these members will IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 26^ allow. Some babies move with the opposite hand and knee down at once, but just as many move like pacers, with the hand and knee of the same side down at once. A fairly large proportion use arms and hands alone, dragging the body and legs; and almost as many go on hands and feet instead of knees. Others crawl like snakes, with the arms close to the sides and the legs almost straight; and still others hump like worms, drawing the legs up and then stretching the arms and body forward. In all cases there are, of course, many unnecessary movements made at first that are dropped by degrees. We have already seen that even at birth the baby's clasp is strong enough to support him hanging, and that the first efforts to sit up are as a rule . Climbing, preceded by pulling hmiself up from a lymg to a sitting position. The muscles of arms and hands are relatively stronger than at any other time of life, and we should naturally expect from this fact a stage when the baby's desire to use them would be marked, that is, a climbing stage. Preyer, careful observer though he was, does not even refer to such a stage, although he gives a detailed account of seizing. On the other hand, all the accounts of learning to stand show how important a factor is the ability of the child to pull himself to an erect position, and Miss Shinn and others have observed and described the climbing stage. It seems probable that climbing is a genuine instinct, dating back to the time when men lived chiefly in trees, when strength of arm and grasp were essential for life. But in babies the instinct is so promptly repressed by fearful mothers, and so impeded by the baby's clothes, as is also his creeping, that the 256 "^"^ CHILD discouraged cliild turns to some substitute instead of delighting in it as Miss Shinn's ni-jce did. Such repression must be a hindrance to the development of the child's lungs and back, and therefore must work direct harm to his health. It is doubtless often diffi- cult for the mother to give the necessary supervision to the climbing if it is allowed, but it can be done more frequently than it is, and should be planned for as far as possible. When not repressed, climbing begins at about the same time as creeping, and is shown in the baby's attempts to climb over the person holding him, to climb into chairs and onto beds and table, and above all by his insatiate desire to creep up and down stairs. In the mounting process there is really little danger, if the thing he is climbing is solid, for his grasp is very strong; but in descending, the baby is likely to come head first like any animal that goes on all fours, and not being properly proportioned for such a form of movement, he falls. If a mother can be hard-hearted enough to let him get a few bumps, he soon learns to come down backwards, and then most of his dangers are over. Although the desire to climb lessens somewhat after the baby has learned to walk, it is strong all through childhood, as is seen in the love that all children have for climbing trees, houses, and so on. Even before the baby has begun to creep, we have seen that he is getting exercises preparatory to walk- ing in his alternate kickings, in the steady pressure of his feet agamst opposmg objects, and in the various half-standing positions that he assumes when held in the lap or supported on IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 26? the rioor. He enjoys these exercises, but still he shows no desire to assume the erect position when left to himself until he has been creeping for some time. Mrs. Hall notes that in the thirty-eighth week, her boy pulled himself to his feet by the aid of a finger, and stood for a minute; in the forty-eighth week, he pulled himself to a chair and stood for five minutes, holding on with one hand and playing with the other, .and two weeks later he stood so for half an hour. Preyer's and Miss Shinn's records correspond very closely with this, but all note that the baby does not feel very secure on his feet as yet. Demme's records show that vigorous children usually stand alone between the fortieth and forty-second weeks; moder- ately strong ones between the forty-fifth and forty- eighth weeks; and weakly 'ones about the twelfth month. Trettien says that the first standing alone may come at any time between the seventh and six- teenth months, and the first walking alone between the tenth month and the second year. By the time that the child has become accustomed to stand alone, he has usually been given some lessons in walking and has been shown how to push a chair ahead of him. A baby will at first support himself by the wall or by the furniture in going for what he wants, but for a long time will drop down to creep when he comes to an open space. He can often walk well when supported by one finger, and alone when he thinks he is supported, for some time before he will walk alone if he knows it. There is a fear of falling with most children that hinders their walking. Their self-consciousness is shown in very amusing ways. One little girl who had always held onto her 258 "^"^ CHILD mother's dress while walkini:,^ one day seized the scallops of her own skirt and walked bravely off, performing- a feat closely analogous to the Self-con- ' ' . . ,r , ' 1 4. sciousnessa famous one of raising oneselt by one s boot- factor, straps. Professor Hall's daughter chanced to walk alone for the first time when she had a pair of her father's cuffs slipped over her arms, and for several days she could walk very well with them on, but would not stir a step without them. When a child is not being constantly urged to walk, it is not infrequent foi him to take his first independent steps without knowing it, in his eagerness to get something that he wants. But as soon as he realizes that he is going alone, while he may be very proud of himself, he promptly falls, and may not try again for some days or even weeks. Then suddenly he walks alone again, and each day makes large gains, until in a week or so walking is preferred to any other mode of loco- motion. The date when walking becomes well established varies greatly. Preyer puts it in the sixty-eighth week „^ „ for his son; Mrs. Hall in the sixty-sixth for When walk- ' ... ing is hers, and others at various times between the established, ^^y^lfth and thirtieth or even thirty-sixth months. Where there are a number of children in the family walking will be learned sooner, and of course a child can be taught to walk sooner than he will if left to himself. This is not a wise thing, however, unless the child is three or four ycrs old, for a healthy child usually wants to walk as soon as his muscles and bones are strong enough to bear his weight. If he walks too soon, he is likely to be bow-legged or knock-kneed. If, on the other hand, a child has not learned to walk IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 269 by the time he is three and a half or four years old, a physician should be consulted. It is interesting to notice that when children first begin to walk alone, they want some object in their hands as they walk. Is it partly because they derive some feeling of support from it, and partly because they feel the lack of the constant stimulation of the palms that they had when creeping? The first walk is very unsteady; not infrec]uently it is more a run, a trot or a waddle than a walk, and it is usually pigeon-toed. Nevertheless, undignified though it be, it opens to a child a new world both of vision and of movement. He gets new views of things when standing— views which are to persist through life; the freedom of his hands allows his handling and fingering of objects to go on at the same time that he is walk- ing; and the exercise of his legs leads to marked changes in the bodily development. His appetite increases, his hours of sleep lengthen, and his general health improves, especially if he is a sickl}' child. His disposition is likely to become more amiable. In describing these stages in locomotion we have proceeded as if the growth were continuous, but as a matter of fact it is not. Some movement will appear, be practised for a day or two gro^t™^° and then be neglected for several weeks or even months. Then suddenly it will reappear and be practised diligently until it is learned. Walking is likely to be interrupted by the beginning of speech, and vice versa, so that the two processes of learning to walk and of learning to speak, which stretch over several months, have periods of wa.xing and of waning. As far as I know, no careful observations have been THE CHILD made to see what laws govern this periodicity of growth, and it is a subject which would repay investi- gation. The sexual instinct has already been discussed in a pre\ious chapter, and hence will only be mentioned Sexual here. Its first important manifestations instinct. come, as we have seen, at adolescence. Closely connected with the instinct of sex is the parental instinct, which seems also to be the center of a large grou}) of acts which are not com- Parentai nionlv considered instinctive. We can instinct, hardly (juestion that the care of the help- less young is instinctix'e, but we do not usually look upon teaching and philanthropy in all its forms as instinctive. What we know of social evolution, how- ever, seems to point to the fact that altruistic activities in general have been the outgrowth of the instinct to care for helpless children. The original instinct has become so covered, so varied, and so modified in its expressions, that it seems a misuse of terms to call philanthropy instinctive; and yet, wnthin the genuine philanthropist there is some impelling force that can- not be turned aside by reasons or difficulties or even his own willing. He springs to relieve the suffering even of the most worthless as the mother springs to snatch her child from danger. From this standpoint, Mr. Phillips investigations as to the existence of a teaching instinct do 'not seem unreasonable. He found that girls play dolls and teacher far more than boys do. Out of one hundred and five teachers, fifty-one had desired from child- hood to follow that [)rofession; seventeen wanted to at the age of twenty-three; twenty-four were forced IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 271 to teach, but soon grew to love the work; and only four heartily disliked it. He concludes that teaching is probably a special form of the parental instinct, manifesting itself, as that instinct does, more strongly in women than in men. Besides the instinctive movements already described, on which most writers are agreed, there are numerous other groups of movements which one or a otter pos- few writers class as instinctive. Among sibie these are the migrating instinct, which ^^stinc s, appears in the desire to run away that most children have; the hunting instinct; the burrowing instinct, appearing in fondness for cave-making; the swimming instinct; the tent-living instinct; the collecting instinct or the instinct for property, etc. Most children show these tendencies at some time in their development, and it seems probable that they are genuine survivals of ancestral traits, but so few observations have been made that we cannot give a connected account of them. Another group of acts is that which centers about the instinctive emotions — the expressions of fear, anger, delight, etc. These, as being closely connected with gesture and language, will be discussed in the chapter on Language. Still other acts that are often classed as instinctive are language, play and imitation. There is little ques- tion that there are certain inborn tendencies in these cases, but the tendencies so seldom take definite chan- nels, as genuine instincts do, that we may question somewhat whether it is not confusing to class them with instincts. There ought to be some term which should indicate that these acts are neither wholly 18 212 THE CHILD instinctive nor wholly deliberate, but have both fac- tors intricately woven together. Finally, we hear such terms as the religious instinct, the instinct for constructiveness, the instinct for work, where the feeling seems to be confused with the move- ments resulting from it. We are considering here only instinctive movements, not instinctive feelings and emotions. In the impulsive, reflex and instinctive movements so far described, the child has been presented as a member of a race only, not as an indi- Conclusion. • , , a , , , , • ■ vidual. Although there are variations in different children, it is still surprising how much alike all these movements are in all children, and at how nearly the same age they appear. They do indeed display the child's nature, as a social nature; but he is unconscious that he has a nature to express or that he is expressing it. On the physical side his energies are occupied in acquiring control of his senses and of the larger muscles of his body; and on the intellectual side, in the development of sensation and perception and the rudiments of memory, imagination and thought, in all of which he is repeating race-history. Never- theless, conscious attempts to reproduce what others do, and to express his own feelings and thoughts begin very early in imitation and in language, and manifest themselves in increasing force in play, drawing, music, and all the other forms of childish expression. REFERENCES Allin, A. Social Recapitulation. Ed. Rev., iSgg, Vol. XVIII., 344-352. Bernhardt, W. Natural Impulses. Atn. Nat., 1897, Vol. XXXI.. 582-587. IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 21 X Black, J. W. Savagery and Survivals. Pop. Sc. Mo., Vol. XLV., 38S-400. Brooks, W. K. Study of Inheritance. Pop. Sc. Mo., Vol. XLVIIL, 4S0-491, 617-625. Bryan, E. B. Nascent Stages and Their Significance. Ped. Sem., Kjoo, Vol. VII., 357-396. Buckmann, S. S. Babies and Monkeys. Nitieteenth Cent., Vol. XXXVI., 727-743. Burk, C. F. Collecting Instinct. Ped Sem., 1900, Vol. VII., 179-207. Compayre, G. DeTehpntent of the Child in Later Infancy, Chapter IV. N. Y. Appleton, $1.20. Darwin, C. Biographical Sketch of an Infant. Pop. Sc. Mo., 1900, Vol. LVII. , 197-205. Ellis, Havelock. Analysis of the Sexual Impulse. Alien, and Neiir., 1900, Vol. XXI., 247-262. Emmons, B. E. Humane Instincts of Children. Jouj-. of Ped., 1900, Vol. XIII., 110-116. Groos, K. The Play of Man. See Index. N. Y. Appleton, §1.50. Hall, Mrs. W. S. First Five Hundred Days of a Child's Life. C. S. M, Vol. II. See Index. Jordan, F, Character as Seen in Body and Parentage. Kline, W. L. Truancy as Related to the Migrating Instinct. Ped. Sem., 1897-1S98, Vol. V., 381-420. Lindley, E. H. Some Mental Automatisms. Ped. Sem., 1897, Vol. v., 41-60. Marshall, H. R. Instinct and Reaso7i. N. Y., Macmillan. $3.50. McMillan, Margaret. Early Childhood, 2-]-\t. Syracuse. Bar- deen, $1.50. Mezes, S. G. Essential Differences between Man and Other Animals. Texas Acad, of Sc, 1898, 23-27. Mills, W., and others. Instinct. Science, N. S., 1896, Vols. III._ and IV. Moore, Mrs. Kathleen Carter. Mental Development of a Child. Psy. Pcv. Monograph Sup. No. 3. Morgan. C. L. Swimming Instinct. Nature, 1901, Vol. LXIV., 20S. Oppenheim, N. Mental Growth and Control, Chapter V. N.Y. Macmillan, §1.25. 2 74 THE CHILD Phillips, D. E. Teaching Instinct. P,d. Scin., 1S99, Vol. VI., 1S8-245. Preyer, W. Senst's and Will, Chapters on Impulsive, Reflex and Instinctive Movements. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. Reid, G. A. Prehensile Power of the Hands of the Human Infant. Lancet, 1S97, p. 1077. Robinson, L. Primitive Child. N. Am. Rev., Vol. CLIX., 467-478. Rowe, S. H. Physical Nature of the Child, Chapters II. and XI. N. Y. Macmillan, §1.00. Scripture, E. W. Arousal of an Instinct by Taste Only. Science, N. S., 1899, Vol. IX., p. 878. Shinn, Millicent W. Biography of a Baby. Boston. Houghton, Miflflin, $1.50. Swift, E. J. Criminal Tendencies of Boyhood. Fed. Sent., 1900, Vol. VIII., 65-91. Heredity and Environment. Proc. N. E. A., 1898, 910-916; Am. Phys., Ed. Rev. 1898; A^. W. Mo., 189S, 36-41. Trettieu, A. W. Creeping and Walking. A7n. four, of Psy., 1900, Vol. XII., 1-57. Thomas, W. I. Gaming Instinct. Am. four, of Soc, 1901, Vol. VI., 750-763. Taylor, A. R. Study of the Child, 93-105. N. Y. Appleton, §1.25. Tracy, B. Psychology of Childhood, Chapter on Movements. Boston. Heath, $0.90. Worthington, S. M. Inheritance of Mutilations, etc. Med. Rev., 1897. CHAPTER XIV Growth in Control of the Body 1. To observe the increase in control of the muscles, compare children two, four, eight and fourteen years old. Note the difference in ability to move observa- the fingers separately, either horizontally tions. or up and down, to stand still on tip-toe, and to thread a needle. 2. Have children of different ages sort out colors, and note the differences in accuracy. 3. Have them tap a finger regularly, as long as they can, and note the differences in regularity and in length of time. In all these the fourteen-year-old child will probably be little, if at all, superior to the eight-year-old. 4. Notice whether the brightest children of your acquaintance are the quickest and the most accurate in their movements. 5. Provide your children with simple tools, needles, etc., of their own, and encourage them to make their own toys, playhouses, etc., as well as* articles for use about the house. Show them how to use the tools, and see that they complete whatever they begin. 6. If you are observing one child systematically, give the tests mentioned in i at regular intervals, and take pictures if possible. Leaving now the exclusively physiological side of the subject, we shall consider how a child learns to use 275 2-^5 '^"^ CHILD his body, and how much hr improves from babyhood to youth. In many parts of our country a revival of Introduc- '''" sorts of hand work is shown by classes tion. in lace-making, spinning and weaving, car- pentry, basketry, and so on. While there maybe more or less of the fad in this, it is nevertheless very sug- gestive to the sociologist and to the educator, because it indicates a feeling of the value of "handiness." Whether we look at the matter historically or logic- ally, we can see that in the end our civilization depends upon our ability to control our bodies, espe- cially our hands. Without such ability, neither liter- ature nor machinery nor any other expression of thought is possible, and it is still an open question how much the power of thought itself is dependent for growth upon an organ that is adaptable, like the lips and hands, and how far it has created the organ by use. It is therefore valuable to study how the baby learns to use that wonderful organ of the mind, his body, and espe- cially how both child and adult learn to use their hands. In order to understand why a baby makes move- ments of one sort and a child movements of another sort, we must know something about the Nervous • ^ ^ri x- i * conditions nervous system. 1 he connection between and bodily the nervous system and the rest of the body is so close that for all practical pur- poses a man might as well not have a body as a ner- vous system that is seriously diseased. We see the truth of this especially in cases of paralysis, or of locomotor ataxia, but we do not often reali/.e that the truth holds also for slighter degrees of disease. Wear- iness of any group of nerve-cells makes it difficult or impossible to use the muscles which those cells control. GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 277 A person suffering from nervous exhaustion, despite large, vvell-dev^eloped muscles, cannot walk a block without extreme fatigue. A tired woman cannot do fine sewing well; a tired child cannot write as well or speak as distinctly as when rested. Diagram 11. Various Human Nerve-Cells Drawn to the Same Scale and Magnified 300 Diameters. It is not necessary, and it would not be profitable, to give a detailed account of the nervous system here. We shall only notice that it consists of structure of nerve-cells and nerve-fibers; the structure the nervous of each is shown in Diagrams ii and 12. system. In general, the nerve-cells are found in the brain and spinal cord (the nerve-centers or central nervous s\'s- tem), and the nerve-fibers run through all parts of the body to and from these centers, as well as between the 278 THE CHILD various centers. One set of ner\'c-fibers (afferent or sensory) carries messages to the central cells, and another set (efferent or motor) takes back the direc- tion for a movement in response, while a third set (connective) connects various parts of the spinal cord and brain with each other. Each part of the spinal cord has control of certain muscles of the body, and the movements performed under its direction are called involuntary or reflex, because they occur without the interference of the will. Definite parts of the brain also have control of definite muscles, but the movements here take place with the consent of the person and so are called volun- tary. Most muscles of the body may be controlled at one time by the cord, and at another time by the brain. The arrangement of the nerve-fibers which permits this double control is like this: a certain nerve-fiber, say from the big toe, passes from the toe to the lower part of the spinal cord. Here it enters a nerve-cell. From this cell at least two fibers pass out, one going back to the muscles of the toe, and one up to the brain. The one that passes up to the brain there also enters a nerve-cell, which has many connections with other brain-cells. If the rcs[)onse to the stimulus is sent back from the spinal cord, as is usually the case in the ordinary sensations from walking, the act is reflex or involuntary. But if consciousness and will are aroused Diagram 12. Longitudinal (B) and Trans- verse (^) Section of a Nerve-Fiber. GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 279 by the message passing up to the brain, as when the toe is bruised, the act is voluntary. The importance of well developed cells and numer- ous connective fibers is apparent from this brief sketch. They lie at the basis of all our acts. A child whose nerve-cells do not grow, or in whose brain few fibers of connection form, will be an idiot or an imbecile. The work of education is to develop numerous fibers of connection. It has been well demonstrated that the nervous sys- tem develops in each child in approximately the same way that it did in the race. The lowest Development forms of animal life have no discoverable ofthener- nervous system; neither has the human "^o^s sys em. embryo in its first stages of growth. The simplest nervous system in animals consists of a little mass of nerve-cells with a few radiating nerve-fibers, and this is essentially the first visible nervous system in the human embryo. By the end of the fifth month of embryonic life, the number of nerve-cells is complete (see page 18). Thence growth proceeds in the follow- ing order:* 1. Connections between neighboring centers in the cord. 2. Connections between the upper and lower parts of the cord. 3. Connections between the cord and the medulla oblongata. 4. Connections between the hemispheres of the brain and the cord. This occurs just before birth. 5. Development of fibers going to the brain centers that control stimuli from the arms, legs and trunk. *Flechsig. 280 THE CHILD This growth also occurs just before birth, and dur- I'ng the first month after birth. The special sense centers also de\'elop just after birth, smell first and hearing last. By the end of the lust month, these centers have all reached partial but not complete maturity. 6. The connections between the various parts of the brain develop to a very slight extent before birth, but after l:)irth grow steadil}'. The most rapid growth of the brain in size is from birth to the ninth month. During this time, one-third of the total increase in weight after birth occurs; the second third is added between the ninth and twenty- seventh months. The remaining third is added much more slowly, the brain reaching almost its adult weight by the eighth or ninth yv.w. Practically all the growth of the brain after this ag(; is in the develop- ment of connective fibers. How long the growth of the fibers continues, is still a matter of dispute, but it seems probable that it lasts up to the age of forty or even later. In okl age the fibers deteriorate. In idiots and imbeciles, the growth ceases at too early an age, resulting in arrested development. At birth a child has no power to make voluntary movements of any sort. When an arm or a leg moves, a.^ », K . when his eves close at a bright light, or Ttie Daby s - .-> o > control of when he slarts at a loud sound, the move- Ms body. nuMil is a total surprise to him, something that he can neither prevent nor repeat. He gets, at the most, vague feelings, without any knowledge of their cause or connection with each other, or with other feelings, and he does not as yet know the difference between feelings arising from his own GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 28 I movements and those due to outside stimuli, such as light and sounds. But these vague feelings become more distinct by repetition, and as the connective fibers within the baby's brain grow, the various feelings become asso- ciated with one another. The eye sees the aimless movements of the hand, and, after many accidental successes, is able to guide the hand to the mouth. The first accidental grasping of the breast in the aimless groping of the hand, gives a basis of feel- ing for the intentional reaching when the baby is hungry. The wonderful change in a baby that usually occurs about the sixth month of his life is due very largely to his discovery that he can move himself this way or that as he pleases, and can direct his movements by his eyes. Thenceforward his time is devoted to learn- ing how to do what he sees others doing. Imitation seems to be his sole end — imitation of sounds, of facial expressions, of movements of all sorts. In getting this control, the larger muscles, those nearest the trunk, are always the first that obey. The baby kicks and practises creeping before he undertakes to walk. Movements of the individual fingers are very few in babies, and even in children finger-control is very imperfect. The constant increase in the accuracy of feeling and in the rapidity and correctness of bodily movement is e\'i- dent from numerous tests made upon school „^^ child's children. In the discrimination between control of colors, there is a steady advance, except at ^^ ° ^' adolescence. The newborn child does not distinguish colors or even forms, but only light and darkness, THE CHILD masses and bright places. Colors are probably not distinguished to any extent before the second year. Even kindergarten children frequently know only red, yellow, and blue, and do not even discriminate between shades of these. After six years of age girls are more sensitive to color than boys. Whether they are before that time, is a matter for future observation. In other experiments made to test differences in accuracy at different ages, the object was to find the changes (i) in the ability to judge slight differences in weight; (2) in the control over the muscles as shown by the rapidity in making a movement like tapping; (3) in the quickness in responding to a stimulus. Both Gilbert and Bryan found that the ability to judge accurately of differences in weight increased gradually from six to twelve years, with the most rapid increase between six and eight years. From twelve to fourteen years, the boys were poorer than before, while the girls were poorer from twelve to thirteen. After these periods, improvement went on again with both boys and girls. The boys were slightly more accurate than the girls except between seven and nine, and eleven and thirteen years. In all cases, the rate of increase in precision lessens from year to year. In the tests for muscular control and for rapidity of response, the same record was made. There seems always to be a certain rate of response for a gi\'en muscle with any one person, and the right side is, as we should expect, superior to the left, except with left-handed persons. There is found to be less differ- ence between the two sides of left-handed boys and girls, than there is between the two sides of right- handed persons. GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 283 There is an increase in muscular strength, as shown by the hand-grip, from six years up, with a fluctua- tion for boys at the fourteenth year, and for girls at the twelfth year. After this temporary decrease, the boys' strength increases strength: steadily but slowly. The girls' strength, on resuitsof ^ ^ fc> t3 ' control, the other hand, decreases until about the sixteenth year, after which there is a slow increase. In general, as a child gains more control of his body, he becomes better able to do different things at the same time with the two hands. Parts like the fingers, that at first were moved only with other parts, become more independent. There is also more ability to combine movements into long sequences, as in mak- ing mud pies, or building a house, or making a doll's dress. Finally, increase in the economy and accuracy of movements shows a close adaptation of body to mind, and a flexibility in the use of the body that is very desirable. It must be noted again here that there is certainly some definite connection between periods of most rapid increase in muscular control and Relation to power of discrimination, and those of height and most rapid growth in height and in weight, "^^^siit. The temptation is strong to connect the time of increase in weight with that of this increase in control and in discrimination. The evidence given by the fig- ures at hand is not, however, conclusive on this point. There is need for more correlated observations.* * It is interesting also to notice, although no practical use of the fact is evident now, that at eleven boys and girls and bright and dull pupils are almost alike in all respects. This age seems to be a neutral ground, a resting place, where all child-humanity meets on equal terms. 'M THE CHILD In watching over the adolescent, we should not for j^^et that the period from the seventh to the ninth year is also an ini|)ortant one, shouini,^ all the fluctuations that adolescence does, though to a less tlegree. In the light of all these facts about development, it seems probable that our present school gradings are artificial. The natural divisions would Growth and sccni to fall about the seventh or eighth grading. }'ear, and the twelfth and fourteenth years for girls and boys respectively. Or, to state it more exactly, the natural divisions occur at the beginning of the second dentition, at which time there is a rapid growth of connective fibers in the brain; and at the beginning of adolescence, where there is another period of rapid growth of connective fibers. Previous to the second dentition, kindergarten methods, on a wider scale than now, seem advisable; that is, relati\-ely little stress should be; laid on book- work, and more on hand work, and work which is not separated Into distinct branches, but is closely cen- tered about the home and neighborhood life. The new interests of the period, from the second dentition to adolescence, can be used for the systematic beginnings of the various studies of the curriculum. With adolescence and the awakening to social life that comes then, school studies, especially "the human- ities," can be taken up with a new interest. In speaking of the relation between bodily growth and mental ability, we said that the testimony was very divergent. Mental ability seems to bear no rela- tion to weight and height except as the individual has been deprived of his chance to grow to his own proper size. But when we consider bodily <;-6'/'//rc?/ and mental GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 285 ability, wc find all observers agreeing that the brighter children always have the best control of their muscles. We should expect this from the close g^^j.^y^Qj^. connection between nervous health and troiand muscular control on one side, and ner- ™f.^^\*^ ability, vous health and mental development on the other. The person with an undeveloped brain has neither mental power nor bodily control. The idiot and the imbecile are conspicuously lacking in both respects. The dropping jaw, the lifeless hand, the imperfect speech, are as sure indications of mental defect as the inability to learn. The criminal, who is perhaps only another sort of imbecile, in like manner shows a lack of muscular control. In both cases the most successful treatment to secure both moral refor- mation and mental growth is to teach bodily control, first of the larger muscles and then, as soon as possible, of the finer muscles, through all kinds of hand work. At this point we touch upon one of the most impor- tant questions in elementary education. Our prom- inent educators insist more and more upon , , (. 1 i • • • u 1 Importance the value of manual traming m our schools, of the hand. This includes work in wood, leather and brass, spinning, weaving and sewing, basketry, draw- ing, clay modeling, cooking; in short, everything that can be done by the hand. From the standpoint of educational theory, not all objects are of value in the making, but only those that typify certain permanent human interests and that are at the same time of such a material that the child's hand can reproduce them. Within this limitation, the utmost stress is laid upon the importance of children doing with their own hands, not for sake of teaching 286 THE CHILD them trades, but because such training develops them mentally and morally as no mere book study can. It is impossible to do justice to this position in a brief space, but we must state its connection with the various facts of nervous development that have already been discussed. Three things are necessary for a strong character — sensitiveness, or ability to see all the sides and factors Essentials "^ ^ ^''^'^'" situation; good judgment, or of a strong common sense in seeing what should be cnaracter. ^lonc, and ability or strength to do the right thing. The second of these, good judgment, is the intellectual side, and its development consists par- ticularly in the cultivation of practical aims and worthy ideals. The first and the third belong to the province of feeling and will. Educationally it is much the easiest thing to get at a child from the intellectual side. We can easily have him learn words by heart or do a certain The making _ ■' ofawhoie kind of reasoning, entirely apart from any ™*^- value to the rest of his life. Our high schools and colleges are now turning out every June mental gymnasts who cannot take any share in social life at first, and whose motives are too often frankly selfish. Our present political corruption is far more closely connected with our individualistic and intel- lectual education than we realize. But we are coming to believe that the most important part of education is that children shall learn to understand the society into which they are born, and work for its improvement. To make a whole man, a man who feels deeply and acts forcibly and well besides thinking logically, is therefore the problem of the new education. GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 28? Now, we assume that there are certain permanent and valuable purposes or ends that are found among all men, but take various forms accord in<; pg^g^Qp^gn^ to the surroundings of a people. Among ofinterest them are the desires for food, clothing and i° social life, shelter, and the love of music and art, at least in a crude form. These desires are born in each child and are the center from which, through his social nature, he works out to an interest in natural science and in other people and other times. The instinct of imitation leads him to play at house, at hunting, at dress-mak- ing, reproducing in miniature the life about him. Thence he is led to question what people did for clothes when they had no needles, how they killed animals when they had no guns, and so on. But, and here we connect with hand work again, when a child thus begins to question how a certain people lived or how a certain food is obtained or how a certain machine runs, the best understanding is obtained by his living the life, preparing the food, or making the machine; and the association fibers of the brain are most rapidly developed by this activity. A child has but a small store of memories to fall back upon and cannot construct in imagination with any accuracy such a process as weaving, even of the sim- plest kind. He must, at least in a crude form, go through the essential parts of the process himself before he can have the feelings and motor associa- tions necessary for understanding it. Still more, by doing it himself, he is able to enter into the feelings and thoughts of the weaver. By planting and raising wheat, he not only understands farming better, but also the farmer. He is broadening his sympathies, 19 288 THE CHILD for the basis of all sympathy is ability to put oneself in another's place, and we cannot do this unless we ha\e iiad the same experiences as he. This strong plea can therefore be made for hand work in our schools — that it will do away with the foolish notion that the trades are of less worth than the professions, and will train children to a ji^t'uuine syni})athy with all w'orkers, thus levelinj^ the artificial distinctions of our social life and helpinj:,^ to solve our labor problems. Finally, on the side of action, only actini,^ will develop the skill, accuracy and patience o™acUon°*^^ which are essential thin(,rs in the attainment of first rank in any profession. From all sides it seems, therefore, that the expres- sion in visible form of any valuable thought is neces- sary for the complete understanding of the thought as well as for the broadening and strengthening of the feel- ings and of the will. Accordingly, we would make an earni'st plea to parents and teachers to do their utmost to give the children in their charge every opportunity to express their ideas. This does not recjuire the introduction of expensi\'e outfits in cooking, manual training, and so on, so much as it does ingenuity in using the materials at hand. Wonders can be done with a hammer, saw and jack-knifi-, with an old stove and a few tin pans, with a doll and some pieces of cloth, with weeds, pliable twigs and tough grasses, with sand, mud and clay. ;\11 these things are at hand for nearly every one. The important thing is that the children shall become accustomed to expressing their ideas. Physically a ciiild gets more and better control of his body as the association fibers develop to connect GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 289 'various parts of the brain and cord with each other, and, on the other hand, constant attempts to do a cer- tain act develop the nervous connection r ,, r /■ 1 Conclusion. necessary tor the performance or the act. A child who never attempted to walk or talk would never develop the nervous connections necessary for the complex combinations of muscles used in those acts. To a large extent, use makes the organ. We saw that the nervous system consists of fibers that carry messages to the cord and brain, cells in the cord and brain that receive these messages, and fibers that carry back responses to the muscles, the three divisions corresponding to sensation, thought or idea- tion, and will. Ideation and feeling were developed in our savage ancestors in the attempt to maintain their uncertain existence, and are even in civilized man relatively incomplete unless carried on into action. Physiologically, the afferent fiber passes into a central cell which is connected with an efferent fiber, so that the tendency is always for a stimulus to call out a motor response. Both the argument from evolution and that from brain development, therefore, unite in emphasizing again the importance of the expression of ideas. References. — For Bibliography see the references at the end of Chapter II. chapti:r XV Imitation and Sug-gestion 1. Keep a dated record of some child's imitations during the first year. Note: (i) Their character. Compare the move- serva- ments with reflex and instinctive move- tions. ments. (2) Their relation to walking and talking. Do they precede these or not ? If not, is there a period of rest in the walking and talking when they begin ? 2. Keep a similar record of some child between two and seven years old, or get obser\'ations on a number of children, following Miss Frear's plan as given in this chapter. 3. Try Mr. Small's experiment, or a similar one. This is very easily done in any room where there is gas or a coal-stove, by pretending to smell the gas, or with other materials by pretending that meat is a little tainted, or milk a little sour, or butter a little strong. It often happens that the value of a theory lies no more in its explanation of the class of facts with refer- ence to which it was first stated, than in its Theories of application to (luite another class. The evolution. it ' theory of evolution, first systematically propounded as a theory that different species of ani- mals pass into each other by gradations, has been widened to the idea that all physical life exhibits a graded series of forms originating from one or a few 290 IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 291 simple forms; and is now being applied to mental life both brute and human. This gives us, in reality, two theories of evolution — one of the body, and another of the mind, and it has been a favorite assumption of both biologists and psychologists that the two series of facts run parallel, and have no causal relationships. They would say, for instance, that when you will to move your hand, the hand moves, not as the result of the willing, but as the result of certain changes in nerve and muscle which are entirely independent of mental processes. The two series of processes run beside each other, but never cross. This theory served for a brief time, as it had the practical advantage of averting metaphysical and religious discussions upon the nature of mind, but as the evolution idea has been worked out in more detail, it has become constantly more evident that there is some definite relation between the complexity of the bodily functions and structure, and the presence of mental activity. This can not, indeed, be proved in all its details; there are gaps and discrepancies here as in the theory of evolution itself; and yet, when we take a view of the course of development as shown by such writers as Spencer and Romanes, the conclusion is almost irresistible that the development of the mind has proceeded with equal steps and by the same laws as the development of the body. It is a strikingly simple conception that the mind has obtained its present modes of activity by responding to the demands of its environment. The animal that was able to retain in memory some painful or pleasurable experience so as to avoid or secure it again, was the 292 THE CHILD one best a(la[)tL'cl to its surrouiulin^^fs and so was tnc one that survived and passed down this form of activity to its descendants. Thus were developed sharpness of perception, imagination, attention, and thought itself, and developed only in response to stimuli, as the best preliminary to action. Mental activity, then, on this theory, has its origin in some want of the animal, and its end in some act which is supposed to satisfy that want. James says that "all consciousness is motor." To understand better what this quotation means, let us ,..,, turn to the development of the nervous All con- ' Bciousness system. We find here, that, in general, the ismotor." ^^^^^^^ ^^,j^l^ ^^^^ greatest mental activity are men with the best developed nervous system; and that this is true all the way down the scale of life. The animal with little or no nervous system, like the oyster, or the clam, has little mental activity. We find also that uniformly in the nervous system there is a connec- tion between those brain cells that receive a stimulus, and those that send messages out to the muscles of the body, so that every impression received tends to call out some muscular response; in other words, "All con- sciousness is motor." Every idea, even, is reflected in the muscular system and so makes some change in the body. This is shown in a multitude of ways. I. Professor Mosso, an Italian, has made careful experiments to find out what is the effect upon the body of stimulations that arouse cmolions, and also to discover the bodily changes caused b\' changing ideas. He found that when various substances were put into the mouth or wlu'n tlu' skin was touched or the eye stimulated, there was alwa)-s some corresponding IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 293 change in the circulation and respiration. He also found that mental work, such as sums in mental arith- metic, changed the character of the breathing and cir- culation. These changes were measured by means of a registering apparatus, so that the matter is proved. Mr. Gates of Washington, further investigating this point, has discovered that every emotion causes changes varying with their character. Thus there is one kind of perspiration for fear, and another for joy. 2. Such facts as those of muscle-reading prove the same thing. In muscle-reading, there is always physical contact between subject and operator. The operator knows where an object is hidden which he wishes the subject to find, and he keeps his mind fixed on the place where the object is. This fixing of atten- tion leads to involuntary contractions of the muscles that guide the subject toward the place, if he is sensi- tive enough to perceive them. 3. The facts of hypnotism are too well-known to need description here. We mention hypnotism because its essential characteristic is that the subject is in some way given an idea which fills his conscious- ness, and therefore must be carried out into action. What is called the "control" of the hypnotist over the subject depends entirely upon how well he can fill the subject's mind with the ideas which he wishes him to act upon. 4 There are many facts in our everyday life that illustrate the same thing. When there is no conflicting idea in our minds we act upon any idea that comes into it. If we see a pencil, we make marks with it; if a pin is on the floor, we pick it up; if we put on our hat, we also put on our coat and gloves, and so on. 2 94 THE CHILD Habitual acts come under this head; the act once started is finished because we have no opposing idea. This carrying out into action of an idea that in any- way enters the mind, depends, we have just said, on ^ ^, , the absence of conflicting ideas. This, in Condition of , , r imitative- turn, depends upon the number of associa- nessorsug- tions that one has with an idea, and the gestibility. . _ , , . , amount of attention fixed upon the idea. The more the attention is fixed, the more likely is the idea to be carried out; and the fewer the associations, the less likely are opposing ideas to rise. Children have fewer associations than grown people, and hence believe everything that is told them. Their attention is also easily attracted. On both accounts, then, the tendency is for them to carry out into action at once anything that attracts them, and therefore children are more imitative than adults. Imitation means, in its widest sense, the copying of some idea received from some person or object, in the form in which it was received. Thus one may imitate the pose of a statue, the bark of a dog, the movement or the voice of a friend. One may also imitate motives as far as one knows them. The questions immediately before us are these: When does imitation rise, and when ebb? How strong is its power over the child? What does he imitate? And what use can we make educationally of this tend- ency? >\ Imitation is now usually classed as a genuine instinct. It is an inborn tendency common to all children, but undeveloped at birth. At first, a child's acts are reflex and involuntary, and not until between the ages of four and six months does real imitation IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 29! begin. From that time to the age of seven, imitation is the principal means of education. This is simply another and more specific statement of the fact that all consciousness is motor. There f^^Lli^^ imitation. is some bodily change in answer to any stimulus, and in imitation, the body only reproduces in the same form the stimulus that it receives. Prayer remarks that the very first imitations of the baby are imitations of movements that he already knows and does without any such stimuli. In the case of his son, it was the pursing of the mouth, and occurred in the latter part of the fourth month. Miss Shinn notes for the same time some possible imitations of sounds but is dubious about their being true imita- tions. Even if there are genuine imitations at this early age, they are infrequent, and the most patient en- couragement of the child will not call them out except to a very limited extent. The connective fibers between the sensory and motor brain regions, which are essen- tial before imitation can occur, have not yet developed to any great extent, and do not until about the ninth month, at which time imitation becomes much more frequent. In the sixth or seventh month there are some clear cases of imitation, but even then they are relatively few, while from the ninth month on, the baby imitates all sorts of movements and sounds- combing his hair, shaving himself, sweeping and other household tasks. By two and a half years the child is into everything, imitating his elders and wanting to help in every way. The great development in the ninth month certainly has a close connection with the rise of creeping and language and the growth of per- ception, but we lack observations which would reveal 296 THE CHILD the exact order of development and the causal rela- tions between these processes. ^ In these first imitations, the child imitates most readily the movements that he already performs reflexly or instincti\Hl\'. Beckonin.t^r or \vavin<,r the hand in "bye-bye" is one of the first imitations, and in the beL,nnnint,r is only a repetition of the natural move- ments of the arms. Ikit even before such a voluntary imitation occurs, the child is very likely to reproduce unconsciously movements or sounds, such as a smile or a cough. Later he will also do this, but when asked to do it, either does it very poorly or not at all, and always hesitates for some seconds before he can get the necessary movements started. Imitation being well developed by the second year, the question is of great interest as to what the child imitates and how he does it, and investiga- Whatachiid jj^j^g j^^^^.^ ,^^^,j^ ^^.^^1^ Qf ^^,j^j^,^ j,^^ fy,. imitates. lowing is Miss Frear's summar)': 7 YEARS What the child imitates: 1. Animals 2. Children 3. Adults Kind of imitation: 1. Direct 2. Play 3. Idea The characteristics imitated 1. Speech 2. Action 3. Action, sjiecch and sound. 10% 10 80 15 80 75 10 80 60 Now it is both interesting and important to notice that 85 and 80 per cent of the child's imitations at three and seven years, are of "grown folks," and this IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 297 is still more important when we add, what is not given in the table, that most of these are imitations of the teacher's actions and speech. It seems difficult to overestimate the influence of the teacher over the child less than seven }'ears old. After that age, imitation becomes less prominent because, as a child gets more ideas, he has more things to choose from and is more likely to combine them in ways of his own. We should notice also that by the time the child is three years old, the direct imitation of movements and sounds, wdiich is his only mode of imitation at first, constitutes only 35 per cent, and at seven years only 15 per cent of his imitations, while play, which allows change and invention, constitutes 50 to 80 per cent at the tw'O ages; and imitation of ideas, which includes many plays, is the most important factor. This change from imitation of mo\'ements to imitation of ideas in play, is coincident with the development of memory and imagination that we have already described, and with the beginnings of questioning. The large proportion of imitations of movements marks once more the necessity so often mentioned, of giving children plenty of freedom for activity; while the numerous imitations of adult activities strongly emphasizes both the social nature of the child and the ease with which education can at this time introduce him to the work of the world in a play form. The more we study the children themselves the more do we become impressed by the fact that a grown person w4io is unsocial and lazy is one who has been warped from the natural order of growth. Imitation has been classified in various ways. First there is the di\-ision into reflex and voluntary. In 298 THt; CHILD rctlcx iiuilation one simply copies, without reflection, any iiioxemcnt one happens to see. One child yawns, and then another; one coughs, then an- 1^ ° ^° other, etc. Voluntary imitation, on the other imitation. ' - _ _ ' hand, selects and tries to imitate the copy, as in copying a drawing. This division corresponds, in the main, to the distinction between simple and persistent imitation. In simple imitation, a child repeats some movement without modifying it in any respect. Usually he copies it only once, because he does not get interested in the act and so is not stimu- lated to repetition. Such imitation has little educative value. In persistent imitation, however, he does find the copy interesting and is stimulated to repeat the movement again and again. As a typical case of this sort, Baldwin gives the illustration of his little daughter imitating him in taking the rubber of a pencil off and putting it on again. She would do this for half an hour at a time. Here we must note one point which will save much defective teaching if kept in mind. Are the children doing the same thing over and over in this re^peutioii repetition of the act? To us they appear to be, because they get the same result, but if we examine the acts more closely, we shall see that this is not the case. The first time Helen tries to put the rubber on the pencil, she probably does not suc- ceed, although she tries very hard. She keeps on experimenting, making different movements with her fingers and the pencil, until she happens to get it on. Then she pulls it off and tries again; this time she suc- ceeds more quickly and easily, because she leaves out many unnecessary movements. And so each time IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 299 some movements arc omitted and better control of the rest is obtained until the child is satisfied and stops. Each time the act is somewhat different from what it was before, and each time the child learns something. The entire process of repetition is the best method of self-education that could be devised, and should not be stopped. The writer has been told many times that there are usually one or two songs or games which a child chooses to play ten times, where he chooses others once. Often we can not see why he should like that particular song or game so well, but it would seem that it must exercise certain muscles and develop certain organs and so give a deep satisfaction to the child who chooses. His choice may not always be one that suits the majority of the children, however, and so he can not always be gratified. This enjoyment is also due in part to the great enlargement of a child's range of actions. By far the largest part of our movements are acquired by imita- tion, and so when a child sees a new movement and begins to imitate it, he finds a new self in his body that he has never dreamed of before. He gets a large number of new and delightful feelings, and, most glorious of all, he finds that he can get those feelings as often as he pleases by simply making a certain movement. He becomes master of himself through imitation, and the delight obtained from this beginning of control is the direct incentive to voluntary effort and to voluntary attention. Imitation is the developer of will power. It is not the thing that is accomplished by the move- ■ ment, but the feeling of the movement that delights 300 THE CHILD the imitative child, and so he repeats it until he becomes thoroughly familiar with the feeling, and then discards that copy. So, als(i, he is satisfied Satisfaction ^ith any makeshifts in his imitation if only in movement, , n .1 • . . ^ -r\ netresuit. they allow the fight mo\ements. ihuswe find a little girl of three years washing her doll's clothes without water; ironing them with a cold iron; and mending them without holes. Another papers the wall with imaginary paper and paste, using a clothes brush for a j)aste brush to help out his imagination. Because all the child wants is the new feelings in the movements, we find also that esthetic motive's seem to have little value in deciding what children shall imi- tate. Repulsive things are as attractive as beautiful. Children imitate deformities and disease. There are numerous cases of children impersonating lame people, humpbacks, blind people, drunkards, etc., not at all in a spirit of mockery, but just as they imitate everything else. To show how strong this copy ma>- be, we have in mind a case of a little girl of five years who visited a sick cousin. For more than a week after coming home, she played she was sick. She made some bread pills, which she took regularly, and every little w^hile she would lie down, cover herself up, and act as her cousin had acted. It is rather difficult to know what to do in such cases, for we can not prevent children seeing such things, and we do not wish to repress the spirit of imitation. Can we not make the children realize that the humpback suffers most of the time because his lungs, heart, etc., are pressed out of place by his curved spine ? And that the drunkard is himself wretched and the cause of wretchedness to others? That is, we should replace the superficial knowledge of IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 301 the child by a deeper understanding and he will lose his desire to imitate such things. This leads us to another important characteristic of imitation; viz., its social nature. We have said that through imitation a child makes accjuaint- •^1 1 • 11 I i. i. t f Social value ance with his own body and gets control of of imitation. it; it is equally true that by imitation he makes acquaintance with objects and persons. When a child imitates the movements of another person, he reproduces thereby in himself the same state of mind in part as that of the person whom he imitates. We have seen in our study of the emotions, that if we assume a certain position, the corresponding emotion is likely to come, and this is also true when the move- ment is imitated. Our little copyist is able to put himself in another's place by imitation, and at first only by imitation. Imitation therefore is the basis of sympathy as well as the developer of will and atten- tion, and the agency for giving us self control. T'"uly, it hardly seems possible to exaggerate its importance in the mental development of any child. Therefore let a child imitate freely, and do not fear that he will become a slave to outside influences. Rather, he is laying the foundations for future origin- ality because he is gaining that knowledge of others and control of himself without which no invention is possible. Imitation is the germ of the adventurer's spirit, from which in later life will bloom discovery, invention and imagination. The transformation from imitation to originality comes as his improvement in his imitation increases, until the original movement serves only as a hint for starting. The factor of imitation is, no doubt, still ;o2 THE CHILD there, but is covered up more or less. This change comes, apparently, when the child has imitated until the act is easy, and hence requires so little Relation to ;,ttL-ntion that he can expend the mental originality. ' . ener^^y thus set free in adornmg the act, so to speak. Then imagination comes to the fore, and sug- gestion is invaluable. The place of imitation, accord- ingly, would seem to be in getting technique. It is a great advantage to a child who is drawing to see how to hold his pencil and how to make a clear line, and it certainly does not interfere with his individuality. The mistake that we all make lies here rather, — we insist upon giving him an end to copy that is outside him- self, whereas the end should be the expression of his own personality, and should be chosen by himself. At the same time, it is often true, no doubt, that a child does not know what he wants to do, or wants to do a thing that would harm him. In such cases suggestion must come in. We are very much afraid nowadays — at least many of us are — of destroying a child's spontaneity if he imi- tates much. There can be no doubt that children have been and are repressed far too much by school for- malities, book study, and so on, but free imitation has nothing to do with such repression. Free imitation is as much a jiart of "free play" — the watch-word of educational individualism— as is invention or imagina- tion. Once more we would emphasize the fact that the development of a child proceeds best when he can freely choose what he will do, but we would also emphasize the other fact of which we sometimes lose sight, that what a child thus freely chooses to do is almost invariably something that he sees going on in IMITATION AND SUGGESTION ^O^ the life about him, and that the wisest educator is the one who so arranges the child's surroundings that the things to hold his attention for imitation are those which will best educate him. The child who per- sistently does not imitate is usually the incipient criminal. He is the unsocial child. Since the child of this age is so willing to take up in imitation whatever the teacher may suggest, importance the best kinds and modes of suggestion ofsugges- come up next for our consideration. °' Suggestion is used here in the sense of any thought or act that may be acted upon by a person. Sugges- tion then takes many forms, which may be graded according to the degree of clearness in the idea sug- gested. At the bottom of the list Baldwin puts what he calls physiological suggestion. Examples of this are put- ting a baby to sleep by patting it, by sing- pt^ysioiogi- ing to it, by putting out the light, learning cai sugges- to lie in bed when asleep, and so on. *^°°' In such cases, an association is formed between a certain stimulus and a certain act, but the child has no clear idea of the act that follows, and it can not prop- erly be called imitative. The forming of associations here is, however, a very important matter, and one that is absolutely under the control of the one who has charge of the child, if the child is healthy. If a child is healthy, it is simply folly for its mother to accustom it to constant attention and coddling in order to keep it good humored, or to put it to sleep. Most babies at first will go to sleep as readily if left alone in a quiet, dark room as if sung to sleep by a bright light. So with all bodily habits, especially after six months. 20 o Qi THE CHILD By rcgLilarl\' piitlincr the child into certain jiositions, associations are formed between them and definite bodily reactions, and the reaction always follows. The extent to which this is true is shown in odd exam- ples. I have heard of one little girl who could not go to sleep unless she saw a towel with a red border put under her pillow, and then she would drop off at once. Another had to embrace a certain book on theology. Let us now turn our attention to other methods of offering suggestions and the advantages thus gained. That suggestion is strong among school Suggestion "o _ . through children is shown in the experiments made Ideas. ^^^ j^jj. ^j J J Small. He wished to see if he could not create real illusions by giving the children the right ideas. Accordingly he tested a school of five hundred children of all grades up to High School, in this wa\': he took into the room a bottle of perfume with a spray attached and also a perfumed card; he had two or three children come to the desk and smell of each. Then without the children knowing it, he substituted water for the perfume, and a scentless card for the perfumed one. He then sprayed the water into the room with every expression of enjo}'ment and was joined in these by practically the entire room. Seventy-three per cent of the children thought they could smell the perfume. He tried similar experi- ments with taste and sight, deceiving respectively 88 per cent and 76 per cent of the children. The decep- tion was greater among the younger children than among the older. This tendency to accept and imitate the attitude of the teacher is due, as we have said, to the lack of con- flicting ideas in the child's mind, and therefore the IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 305 most essential thing in persuading is to prevent the rise of these. "A strong will," says Guyau, "tends to create a will in the same direction in value of others. What I see and think with suffi- strong cient energy, I make everybody else see and convict on. think. I can do this just in proportion as I believe and act my belief." The first essential for success in teach- ing, therefore, is enthusiasm and a conviction of the importance of the work. The next is belief in one's own power to succeed, for thereby one gains poise and the power to assert oneself calmly and authoritatively, both of which are necessary to the teacher. Beyond this, the teacher must make herself a model fit for imitation by the child. Her position of author- ity in the school fastens the child's atten- ... Importance tion upon her irresistibly for the time that of good he is with her,' and imitation of her is as breeding in inevitable and unconscious as breathing. First of all she must "sit up and look pleasant." She must carry herself well. It goes without saying that her dress must be neat, but it is equally important that it should be tasteful. A teacher who wears ugly colors or bad combinations of colors, is a stumbling block to these little ones, in a very real sense, for she is training them to do the same thing. So also it is inex- cusable for her to use harsh, shrill tones in speaking or singing. She must modulate her voice so that it will be low and sweet. The degree to which all the physical peculiarities of one person are imitated by others, is greater than is commonly appreciated. Coughs, stammering, hys- terical attacks, carriage, peculiar gestures, and facial -io6 THE CHILD expression, all are imitated. The teacher who wears a worried frown soon has a frowning school. Less observable but more important is the effect upon the child of the teacher's mental and moral atti- Vaiueof tude. Only from the standpoint of the belief in power of suggestion do we appreciate the cniid. ^j^jjj Importance of believing that a child is good, and of letting him know our belief. "Convince the child that he is capable of good and incapable of evil, in order to make him actually so." A child, and even an adult, unconsciously to a large extent, imitates the copy of himself that is held before him. Suppose a child has misbehaved in some way. With a little child, the chances are that his intention was not wholly bad, and if we assume that he was mistaken in his act and not willful, we can often change the intention. Say, "Now see how others would misunderstand you, though you did not really intend to do wrong," or "See how you have hurt him, but you did not mean to," and so on. The little recreant will find it harder not io live up to this copy than to imitate it, as a gen- eral rule. So generally, when the selfish or narrow side of a child's nature comes to the front in an act, do not make it definite and clear cut to his consciousness by talking to him about it, but rather emphasize first its unhappy results, and then the good results which rise from another way of acting. Make the child con- scious of the good tendencies but not the bad, unless he is evidently doing wrong with full consciousness of it. Then remonstrance and discussion are in place, as we have already said. Every movement of the teacher is a suggestion to the pupil. If she e.xpects bad behavior, she calls it IMITATION AND SUGGESTION ZO7 out by her attitude of suspicion. Her eyes, head, hands, all declare her expectation, and give rise to ideas of mischief that otherwise would not enter the child's mind. In the same way, we find that children usually care most for the subject that the teacher likes. When she loves nature and the beautiful, every suggestion is of their attractions, and she can carry the the pupils over numberless obstacles by reason of their imitation of her enthusiasm. Her own feelings, with their concomitant actions, are reflected in her pupils. Such things are "catching.'' We see here also why a negative suggestion is less valuable than a positive one. If I say "Johnny, don't put the beans in your nose," why is it less Negative valuable than to say "Johnny, put the suggestion beans in your pocket"? ' Evidently, in the first case, Johnny's attention is fastened on the beans and nose, and he is at the same time left inactive. The natural thing is for him to act on the idea presented. In the second case, his attention is fastened on a useful idea and he is given something to do. The different methods of treating a child who gets hurt are in the same line. Why is it better to make light of the injury? Evidently because this gives the child a good copy to imitate. I have seen a mother work a child into a fever of cryin^vvhen she fell down. The child picked herself up qriickly enough, rubbed her head a little and was beginning to play again, when her mother rushed upon her thus: "You poor darling, did you fall and get hurted? Naughty, wicked ground to hurt my little girl!" Here she stamped upon and beat the ground. "Just see what a horrid, dirty hurt it made on my dearest's face!" The '.qS the child chiUl's lips began to (quiver and soon she too was angry and crying. This particular mother is worse than any one I have ever known, but all of us are too likely to give the child something negative or bad to copy instead of something good. Another source of much trouble to a child is that we give him many different things to copy which do not agree with each other. Says Jean Paul: inconsist- ..j£ ^^ secret mental fluctuations of a large ency. class of fathers [and we should add teachers and mothers] were brought to the light of day, they would run somewhat after this fashion: In the first hour the child should be taught morality; in the second hour, the morality of expediency; in the third hour, 'Your / lO THE CHILD Sidis, Boris. Psychology of Suggestion, pp. 5-90. N. Y. Apple- ton, $1.75- Small, Maurice H. Suggestibility in Children. Pcd. Sem., 1896, Vol. VII., 176-220. Sudborough. What Children Imitate. A'. IV. Mo., Vol. VIII., PP- 99. ISC'. 162, 226, 300, 332. Tuke, Hack. Did. of Psy. Med., Imitation, Vol. VI., 676-78. Phil. Blakiston, §to.oo. Urban, W. M. Psychology of Sufficient Reason. Psy. Rev., July, 1897, 361-73. (Bases all knowledge upon the feeling of reality obtained from more or less perfect imitation.) Van Liew, C. C. Educational Bearings of the Principle of Imita- tion. N. IV. Mo., Vol. VII., 320-7. Waldo, Bell. Imitation in Children. C. S. M , Vol. II., 75-78. (Principally examples.) Waldstein, Louis. Subconscious Self and lis Rclatioti to Educa- tion atid Health, 41-80, 160-2. N. Y. Scribner, §1.25. Washburn, M. F. Recent Discussions of Imitation. Phil. Rev., 1899, Vol. VIII., 101-104. (Discussion of Tarde and Bald- win.) Wundt, W. Huniatt and Animal Psychology. Chapter on Hypnotism and Suggestion, pp. 32S-339. N. Y. Macmillan, $2.60. CHAPTER XVI Language 1. Keep a dated record of the order of development of vowels and consonants; of clicks, grunts observa- etc. • tions. 2. Note when gestures begin to be used to get what the child wants. What gestures are used? What are first used? What are most frequently used? 3. Note when the baby begins to understand speech. Be careful here not to confuse knowledge of the word with knowledge of the gestures. To be sure that the baby understands the word, it must be spoken without gestures or any unusual inflections. (i) When does he know his name? (2) The names of the people that he sees most fre- quently? (3) The names of any objects? 4. The beginnings of speech. Keep a record of the first words used with meaning, spelling them as they are pronounced and classifying them as they are used, not as classified in a grammar. Such a record can be made for children of any age. 5. Keep a record of the color vocabulary from the time when the child first names a color correctly. 6. Keep a record of the first sentences, noting the order of the words. 7. Collect accounts of words and languages invented by children. 311 12 THE CHILD One of the characteristics of man that has attracted much attention and been the cause of much discussion , ,. ^, is his ability to use language, that is, to Instinctive -^ . . expressive communicate with others. In this, its most gestures. general sense, language is not limited to words, but also includes gesture, drawing, which originated in gesture and whence written language was derived, and any cry that has meaning, whether it be articulate or merely the cry of rage or pain. Within a week after his son's birth, Preyer noted the turning away of the head when the baby had sufficient food. This is the forerunner of the shake of the head in denial. In the sixth month, arm movements were added to this, which looked like pushing away the object, but they did not clearly have that purpose until the fifteenth month and then were probably imitated. In the first turning away of the head, the movement is expressive of the fact that the baby has had all that he wants, but of course he has no intention of com- municating with others by the movement. The move- ment is as instinctive as sucking itself, and is important here only because later it is used as a sign by which to express thought. » During the first months of life there are a number of j instinctive movements which are also expressive and v which are the basis for later gestures and words. Among them are the instinctive expressions of pain, weariness, fear, anger, astonishment, joy, desire and pride. These are not all present at birlh, but appear before the end of the first half year. The first tears, which may express weariness, pain, fear or anger, appear between the twenty-third day and the twentieth week. The characteristic transverse LANGUAGE 313 wrinkling of the forehead in grief, appears early and also the peculiar parallelogram-shaped mouth, and put- ting up the lip. The first smile sometimes comes even in the second week, but is likely then to be only an impulsi\-e grimace and not expressive of satisfaction. By the end of the first month Preyer found that it was always associated with comfortable conditions, and in a few months arm movements regularly accompanied it. Darwin puts the first smile as late as the seventh week, and the first laugh in the seventeenth week. Preyer puts the first laugh at nearly the same date as the first smile. The laugh also is later accompanied by arm movements. It became much more noticeable in his son in the eighth month, and then was at times imi- tative. Laughter passing into tears, he never observed in children less than four years old. The characteristic look of astonishment appeared in Miss Shinn's niece in the sixth week, on tasting some new food. This also is hereditary, and one of its important factors, the horizontal wrinkles of the fore- head with wider opening of the eyes, is traced back by Darwin to the attempt to see better the object causing the surprise. Fits of rage or anger, with stiffening of the body, and striking out and kicking, appeared as early as the tenth month in Preyer's boy. Desire is very early shown in the cry, and to this is added, about the fourth month, stretching out of the arms to the thing wanted; and still later, the putting of the hands together as if to grasp the object. Between the eighth and twelfth months, pointing is gradually developed from this. 3H THE CHILD Expressions of affection, such as kisses, pats and hugs, are imitated, and do not appear until about the sixth month, at which time also a real gesture language is likely to begin. Gesture, or the sign language, is comrr.Oti to all men and is used by animals almost as much as the inarticu- late cry. It seems to be of almost as wide gestur^e*^'^ application as the cry. The dog's entire body is unconsciously eloquent of his mood, and even consciously he makes a limited use of ges- tures in trying to attract attention or to persuade man to do his wish. When we come to man, we find that the natural sign language is strikingly similar in all parts of the earth. An Indian can make himself understood anywhere that the sign language is com- monly used. Deaf mutes, who have not been taught the conventional sign language, and Indians understand each other without difificulty. We can hardly question that gesture, aided by a few half-articulate cries, was the first language, and for a long time was more prominent than speech in men's communications. So we should expect to find, as we do, that in each baby's development, gestures come to have significance before words do. At about the same time that imitation begins, sig- nificant gestures arise. The six-months-old child tugs at his mother's dress when he is hungry, holds out his arms to be taken up, and learns to wave "bye-bye" and go through the various baby tricks. A little later he begins to invent gestures. All kinds of begging and coaxing gestures, attempts to attract attention, appear. The use of nodding to mean yes is not seen until between the twelfth and fifteenth months, and is LANGUAGE 315 probably not hereditary as shaking the head is, although Miss Lombroso so classes it. It does not appear until long after shaking the head does, and is procably imitative. In this use of gestures, the baby is at one with primitive man, uncivilized peoples of to-day, deaf mutes, and aphasic patients. There seem to be certain common or root gestures Gestures tbe u- u n \ u u 1 primitive which all men who have no speech or only language imperfect speech, use in expressing their thoughts, and it seems as though reference to this nat- ural language might settle some of the disputes as to the appropriate gestures in discourse. On the other hand, there are variations from these common roots according to the nationality and ration- ality of the person, just as there seem to be variations even in the instinctive expressions of emotion, so that we can not press too far the theory of a universal sign- language. Savages and children use many more ges- tures than adults of civilized races, and more pro- nounced inflections. It is related of some savage tribes that they can hardly understand each other in the dark. Such language is much more closely confined to the concrete than are words. The gesture is essentially a reproduction of the object or action, and does not lend itself readily to the representation of class-ideas or trains of reasoning. Uninstructed deaf-mutes, it is claimed, have no ideas of the supernatural, and only the lowest abstract ideas. The entire system of ges- ture, while pleasing and universal, soon reaches its limit of development and must give way to a system that has greater mobility and power of adaptation. -, j5 the child It is supposed that there is some connection between the sign-language and the spoken word, but we have no exact knowledge of what it is. The Connection '^ i i r of gesture brain centers for control of speech and or with words. ^1^^, j.jg.j^j j^^j^^j ^^re close to each other, and presumably the exercise of either would stimulate the other through diffusion of the nervous excitement. Considering language merely as a means of com- munication, there would seem to be nothing marvelous in the fact that the word has come to be its speech and ^j^|^f ^^^^^ jj. jg simptv a case of the sur- the cry. ^ ^!, ' , i i- vival of the fittest. Not only are the lips, tongue, etc., more mobile than other muscles, and so better adapted for expressing slight differences of sound and thus for indicating many objects with com- paratively small effort; but their use leaves the hands free to do other work at the same time that talk is going on. It would seem inevitable therefore, that the word should become the especial means of communi- cation as the demand for communication grew, though at first it was carried on merely by inarticulate cries and gestures. Cries and gestures seem to be to a large extent com- mon to all men, and also to men and animals. The cry of rage is easily distinguished from that of pleas- ure; the cry of fear from that of attack. When we go beyond these, however, we approach speech. Buck- man is authority for the statement that fowls have twelve or more different cries by which they warn and guide each other; cats, six; rooks, six, and monkeys two hundred or more, almost a language itself. We find also that many animals can learn to understand us, no gesture or peculiar inflection being used. Romanes LANQUAQB 317 quotes the case of a chimpanzee who would follow her master's directions into minute details about sticking a straw into the meshes of her cage. Dogs also learn to follow directions, and even to read words and fig- ures. It is related of one of Scott's dogs that the servants used to trick him by saying in his presence that the nu?sUr would come home over the hill. The dog would at once go the route indicated, never by any chance taking the other path. There seems to be no intrinsic reason for doubting the possibility of such things. This does not, of course, mean that animals can reason. In all such cases it is difficult to separate tone and inflection from the mere sound of the word. The former are the more primitive. Most animals obey the tone rather than the word. Idiots who can not learn to speak or understand words, can be taught some things by tone and gesture. This, perhaps, is one reason why music — mere tone — has such a univer- sal hold. From these rudimentary cries which man possesses in common with animals, some philologists believe that human speech has developed through Development refinement of the articulation. The reflex ofhuman cry of emotion, the voluntary cry of w^arn- ^p®®° • ing or threat, and the imitation of some sounds, thinks LeFevre, furnish the elements of language. Of these elements animals possessed the first as well as man, but man, with a more developed brain, distinguished and used more words, through changes in intonation and in sounds. Other philologists lay more stress upon the influence of sex in developing language; while still others believe that man speaks ') I g THE CHILD primarily because his lij)s and tongue are more mobile than those of animals. Whichever factor may have been the leading one in the race-origin of language, we can see that in the baby's speech they all i)lay some part. It is indubitable that man now has a certain instinct to speak — i.e., to communicate by sounds — though not to speak any gi\-en language. It seems that a. French child brought up in an English family or vice versa, learns the adopted tongue as readily as the natives do. How far the development of language would go if children were left entirely alone is an inter- esting but unsettled point. The cases of shipwrecked children are unsatisfactory, because such children have had no companions and so no incentive to invent a language. Herodotus tells us that King Psammetichus of Egypt had two newborn children shut up so that they saw no men until two years old. At that age when brought into the presence of others, they said "beccos," which in Phrygian means bread. Psam- metichus thereupon proclaimed the Phrygians the most ancient people. Long before a child imitates, however, he babbles, and the sounds that he thus instinctively makes are his unconscious preparation for later speech. The child enters life with a cry, which has been the subject of much discussion. Some claim that it is. a celestial cry — apparently a reminiscence of The first ^j^^ angel's song. So noted a man as Kant asserts that it is a cry of wrath at being introduced to the hard conditions of this life. But we will satisfy ourselves with the notion that it is simply a cry of pain when the cold air rushes into the lungs and automatically expands them. LANGUAGE 3^9 The first cries arc instinctive and to the child's own mind are not expressive, although they usually indicate bodily conditions, such as hunger or pain or pleasure. Preyer notes the wail of hunger, the sharper loud cry of anger, the crow of delight, the monotonous cry of sleepiness, and the short, high-pitched yell of pain. These are instinctive at first and are not intended to tell others what his condition is. The child cries at a bright light or a bitter taste, and later at a loud sound, because there are certain arrange- ments of nerve cells at birth that necessitate this response. During the first month of life, the sounds that the child makes are for the most part vowels. A, 00, A, are the favorite ones, and there are varia- tions of these and others which adults find it difificult to describe. These sounds are also frequently given on an inspiration and expiration, making two-syllabled combinations like ag-oo. The first consonant put with them is an indistinct guttural or nasal, ^ or figd, as Miss Shinn gives it. These syllables are repeated by the baby again and again, making reduplications, for which he has a fond- ness for some time after real speech has begun. Sav- age races show the same fondness. Wallace and Johnston have also attempted to show that the order of development in baby speech from vowels to semi-vowels, nasals and consonants, paral- lels the development of human speech. The first consonants that appear are m, p, d, I and k. The first sound not a vowel, was heard by Preyer on the forty-third day; the first may on the sixty-fourth day. On these facts Buckman has based an ingenious theory as to the origin of language. The combination 21 320 THE CHILD 7tta-ina-7}ia is usually the first. Vicrordt states that generally the vowel in the crow of pleasure is a ; of pain, a. The latter very naturally, says consonants. J^^'ckman, although purely reflex at the start, is used when the child is hungry or in pain, and becomes a way of calling for his mother, who relieves hunger and pain. Hence it becomes her name, "nii7?n(7," and this root is found in Sanskrit, Greek, and Latin, as well as in our modern languages. So again, /rt or da, resulting in "i)a|)a" or "dada" is a natural cry when the child is not as violently agitated as by hunger, and becomes attached to the father. This root also is found in Sanskrit, Greek and Latin, Kah, on the other hand, is used to express strong dis- gust, as when the child tries to eject disgusting food. It is made by lifting the lips from the teeth, opening the mouth and almost coughing, the same instinctive expressions that animals employ, P'rom it come the Greek kukos (bad), kcikkt; (excrement), Latin, caco, and similar words. The la sound, on the other hand, is given in content- ment, or pleasure, and gives rise to the Greek XoAco), to chatter, and the English lullaby. From these instinctive utterances language first arose, thinks Buckman, constantly growing in fineness until the marvelous complexity that we now use was attained. Taine and Darwin bear out these remarks as to the first sounds. With Taine' s daughter 7na was first given; kraim to express disgust, and pa a little later. Miss Shinn's records agree with these as to "mama." "Dada" was also one of the first words, and signified pointing out, seeing, exulting, admiring. "Nana" LANGUAGE -^2 I was a wail of protest and refusal Two other words, "Kraa" and "ng-gng" or "mgm" were used very early but were imitations of words given to her to express disgust, and disappearance. The first exercise of the organs is not expressive of any meaning. The baby enjoys exercising his throat, tongue and lips and so keeps it up for hours at a time. It is an excellent training for the later speech, for, although he can as yet miitate no sounds, he makes all the sounds and gets flexibility and strength of the vocal organs and lungs. Deaf-mutes, who make few sounds as compared with normal children, are unusually subject to throat and lung diseases. The exact order in which the various sounds appear must vary, although in the main the same, because the shape of the mouth and the other vocal order of organs differs and the child pronounces first sounds and the easiest vowels and consonants. It is also syiiab es. noticeable that Preyer says that during the first year of life the child pronounces all the vowels, even those which later on he has to learn over again. We have here a fact similar to what we have already noticed in imitation, where the child involuntarily does easily and well what he does slowly and imperfectly when the action is voluntary. Among the sounds made at this early stage are all sorts of gutturals and "clicks," which adults find it difficult to speak and which correspond closely to Arabic and Hebrew gutturals and savage "clicks." The order for the appearance of the letters, as given by Tracy, is as follows, beginning with the most diffi- cult: r, /, th, V, sh, y, g, ch, s, t\ f, /, «, q, d, k, o, za, a, 1-7') THE CHILD Sully puts all mistakes in pronunciation under the following heads: 1 . Si))ipUfications. (i) A child naturally drops letters and syllables that are hard for him, especially if they are at the end of the word, and the inflection and Mispronun- , , i i i i a r i elation. rhythm are not altered thereby. At hrst he seems to understand only the vowel sounds in what is said to him, and in imitating a sound will get only the vowel and inflection, with a vague sur- rounding of indistinct consonants. Preyer's boy would respond in the same way to "Wie gross?" "gross," and "o'ss. " Again, in trying to say "Putting my arms over my head," little Ruth would get, "u i i a owy i ead,' ' with hardly a distinct consonant in it, but a ludi- crously faithful reproduction of my own tones. In this dropping of syllables dmice becomes "da"; candle^ "ka"; handkerchief, "hanky," "hankish," or "hamfish," and so on. (2). The accented syllable naturally is always the one kept, whether it is at the beginning, middle or end of the word, for we speak it with more stress and voice, and it must attract the baby's notice more than the others. 2. Chafige of letters. (i) Vowels are not omitted but are often changed. (2) Consonants are not always dropped, but others may be substituted for them when they are difiicuit. In such cases the preceding or succeeding sound deter- mines what shall be put in, giving a duplication. Thus "cawkee," coffee; "kork," fork; "hawhy," horsie ; "laly," lady. In other cases p and s are dropped and others substituted: "ica^y,'' sleepy. Where LANGUAGE 323 / and r are replaced, almost any substitute may be used, but zv is a favorite. (3) The consonants may be interchanged: "tsar," star; "psoon," spoon; "hwgohur," sugar ; "aks," ask; "lots it," lost it. With all these natural difificulties in speaking correctly, it seems a pity to add further mispronun- ciations by his elders, in the form of baby- talk. Baby-talk is one form of endearing terms, but surely the P^nglish language has a vocab- ulary of such words that is far better than the usual run of baby words. We hinder the child's speech by limiting ourselves to him. We should rather encourage him to use our words, especially as the vocal organs grow less flexible as they be- come more used to certain combinations of sounds, and so an incorrect pronunciation may become habitual. An older form of baby-talk is found in many school- books in the names given to flowers, animals, geomet- rical figures and so on. As a matter of fact children learn the correct names as easily as they do the silly, sentimental ones, and do not need to unlearn them later and get the proper ones. So far we have discussed only the making of articu- late sounds. We have not yet reached language. For language we must have not only a perfect 1 J j-i. i. u i. -J Rise of true vocal and auditory apparatus, but ideas, speecb. and desire to express them. During the first six months the child seems to lack these, although Darwin noticed in his boy different cries for hunger and pain at the age of eleven weeks and an incipient laugh in the sixteenth week. But it may be questioned whether these were not entirely involuntary and 324 THK CHILD 7 i8 19 3 1 I II-I2 6 rcfli'x. In the second six months, however, persistent imitation of sound and j^^csture arises. The child voluntarily uses different cries and gestures for differ- ent things, although his vocabulary of spoken words is very small, or may indeed be nil, as in the case of Taine's child. Feldman on comparing childn-n found that the first word varied as follows: Month: 14 15 16 No. of children: i 8 19 These children first walked alone: Month: 8-9 10 No. of children: 3 24 From this it appears th^at children walk before they talk, and we may add that they understand before they walk. When the child is learning to walk he accjuires no more speech and may even go backward, but after that the learning and understanding of words is vocabulary. ^'^'"^ rapid. A child understands many words before he speaks, even as early as eight months. Strlimpell's daughter enjoyed little stories told her in her thirteenth month, though her own speech was very imperfect. Another child of eight months knew by name all the persons in the house, the parts of her body, and most of the objects in the room, and understood simple sentences. It should be said here that children may differ within wide limits as to the time when they begin to speak, and still not be abnormal. Many authorities state that if a child does not speak by the age of five, he may be considered abnormal, but not until then. Perez, indeed, says that "The more intelligent a child is, the LANGUAGE 325 less he uses words, and the more necessary it is to him that words should signify something to him, if he is to learn them; and this is why he only learns words in proportion as he gains ideas about objects." By the end of the third six months he may use not only many single words, but even short sentences, and words of his own invention. This latter fact is interesting the- oretically from its connection with the possible origin of language. The character of the first vocabulary is shown in the following comparative table, which is given in per cents: z & 2 z ai Ph m Bi M > < > Q < Oh « Oh z u X ID Z 00° Dewey. 1 girl, 18 mos. I boy, 19 " 53 60 6 28 21 I II 6 3 I 6 5 144 115 Tracy. I2children,ig to 30 mos. 60 2 20 9 5 2 •3 1-7 5400 Salisbury. I girl, 33 mos. I " SVi yrs. 54.5 57 3-7 I 23 20* 9.6 17* 5 2 3 I .006 .003 .006 .0009 642 1528 Wolff. Boy's Dic- tionary* 42 30 8 10 4 215 Kirkpatnck. Per cents of words in English language . . 60 II 22 5.5 These lists, as Dewey remarks, classify the words according to their meaning for adults, an artificial method for two reasons. At first one word stands for a sentence in childish speech. "Water"—/ wa?a * This dictionary was made by a boy before his seventh year. It does not, of course, give his entire vocabulary, but only words that for any reason he wished to define. 326 THE CHILD ivakr. "All ^^one" — TJic flcnvcr has disappeared, etc. I*\irlhcrm()i"c, the chiltl, like the savage, uses one word for many parts of speech. "The hurt blooded." "It ups its false feet." "Can I be sorried?" etc. A care- fully-made vocabulary would classify each word according to th(? child's use of it, and so such classifi- cations as these given here are but rough and ready tests. Even so, however, they are suggestive of characteristic differences between the child and the man. The idea of action is very prominent in all the first language. Even with this artificial classification, the percentage of verbs is twice as large in childish as in adult si)eech, and less than i per cent of the nouns are abstract. Here again we find the parallel between the child and the race. The more primitive a language, the larger the proportion of verbs, and it is very probable that the first sentences consisted of but one word. An interesting bit of evidence to show how recently the different parts of speech have assumed clearness in man's mind, is the fact that the ancient Greeks in writing ran all the words of a sentence together. Children vary greatly in the age at which they learn to name colors, as well as in the ability to distinguish the colors. Preyer's child at twenty months ^^^°\ knew no color names; twenty-five others vocabulary. ' _ ^ knew red and green; thirty-four, yellow, brown, red, violet and black. The colors are named correctly in the following order: white, black, red, blue, yellow, green, pink, orange, violet. The girls show greater ability in this direction, a girl of eight comparing with a boy of sixteen. LANGUAGE 327 The number of different words used by different children has been very differently estimated. Some of the differences are due to the fact that some writers put different forms of one word vocabulary. ^•S-1 S^^ S^^'^S ^^^ ^07ie, as one word, while others consider them as different words. In the fol- lowing list, taken from Tracy, and in the preceding list, inflections of a word are not counted as separate words. Se\ OlRT.S Age in mos.... No. Words 9 9 12 10 12 8 15 12 19 24 24 28 30 4 144 139285677327 17 35 21 177 22 28 22 69 23 24 136 36 24 25 263 250 171 28 Preyer found that nine children (eight girls and one boy) at two years had vocabularies ranging from 173 to 1 121 words. Thus there seems to be a wide range in the number of words possible at any given age, and we do not yet know what connection there is between them and the child's general development and intelligence. It happens also that children living under ordinary conditions sometimes invent words and even lan- guages. The languages we shall mention 1 . T-i I • i. Invention of later. I he words seem, \\\ some cases, not ^^^.^g to be the result of imitation, but strictly original. Among such cases are "memby," food; "afta," drinking; "gollah," rolling things ; "tonies," children; "diddle-iddle, " hole; "wusky," sea. One child described by Mr. Hale invented names in which the \'owels denoted the size of the object as they were higher or lower; e.g., "lakail," a)} ordinary chair; "lukull," great arm-chair; and "likill," little dolls chair; "mem," watch or plate; "mum," large dish; 328 THE CHILD "mim," moon; and "mim-mim," stars. Deaf-mutes invent a few words usually, and some invent many. Words for food and drink are the most common. Besides the invention of words, children usually form some words through the imitation of sounds or onomatopoeia, as Miss Shinn's niece imitated the mewing of a cat and later used the sound for the cat's name. In this respect as well as in the invention of words, the natural tendency is repressed by the fact that children have the adult language before them to imitate and so are saved the trouble of inventing a new one. Nevertheless, the tendencies which do crop out are of great interest to the philologist, because the words which children form either through invention or imita- tion show curious resemblances to primitive tongues and offer suggestions as to the origin and development of language. For instance, Mr. Hale and various other authorities who have studied the words and lan- guages invented by children, believe that in this tend- ency to invent is seen the cause of the origin of diverse languages. "Each linguistic stock must have orig- inated in a single household. There was an Aryan family-pair, a Semitic family-pair, an Algonkin family- pair. And further, it is clear that the members of each family-pair began to speak together in childhood." The age at which the first sentence is spoken will vary as much as all other stages of language develop- ment. To quote Preyer again, his son sentence spoke the first sentence near the end of the twenty-third month. The memorable utter- ance was "Helm mune," which, being translated is, "Home, milk." Striimpell's daughter, however, spoke LANGUAGE 329 her first word in the tenth month and used sentences as early as the seventeenth month. The first sentences after the sentence-words already- mentioned, commonly consist of a noun and adverb or adjective, or two nouns with a verb understood. "Big bird," "Papa, cracker, milk," etc. The verb makes its appearance, says Sully, as an imperative first. The order of the words varies, sometimes subject and some- times predicate being put first. Apparently imitation has little effect when an English child will utter a sentence like this: "Out pull baby spectacles." I suppose that the order depends upon the idea which is most prominent in the child's mind, that being put first, as with adults sometimes, for the sake of emphasis. Children as a rule seem to have trouble in putting "not" in the right place; and they also bring out their meaning by making two opposing state- ments — "This not a nasty wow wow; this a nice wow wow." This uncertainty of order is also paralleled in primitive languages. We all know the wonderful things a child does, when he tries to use inflections, in his attempt to make the language consistent with itself. Of course , , 1 1 I „ 1 First use of irregular verbs are made regular, plurals inflections. are all formed alike and so on, but he caps the climax in his use of the verb be. As Sully says, it is asking too much of a child to expect him to say "Yes, lam,'' when asked, "Are you good now?" and we can sympathize with the little girl who, after much drill from her mother, when asked if she was going out said, "I'm are." If a child is asked, "Will you be good?" why should he not say, "I be good"; or, if that event occurred yesterday. "I bed good"? "Am't THE CHILD I?" is surely as logical as "Isn't he?" We find also an impromptu making of \crbs that is delightful, "l^et- tcrn't you do it?" says the little fellow. "I" and "you" are stumbling blocks also. At first the child speaks of himself by name, and is likely to think "I" and "you" names like any other. So he will say, "What am I going to do?" for "What are you going to do?" The constant change from one to the other, according to which person is speaking, is most puzzling, and yet Tracy says the child has learned the meaning by twenty-four months. Others assign dates from sixteen to thirty months, a wide variation. This is, of course, a gradual process. The child will use the terms correctly, and then drop them for the time, to resume them later. The free use of them is com- monly taken to signify more sense of the child's own personality than before. The develoj)ment of speech is effectively summarized in the chart found on the fol- lowing page. This first learning of the mother tongue is fairly com- plete by the fifth year, but between eight and fifteen years there is usually a revival of interest, languases This is seen in the secret languages of chil- dren, which are found wherever children are together. There are many kinds of secret language, varying from the easy "hog Latin," which only adds "gry" to every word, to a very complex and inflected language. Frequently such a language lasts for fifty or sixty years, and is passed down from one genera- tion of children to the next. In other cases the lan- guage is invented in whole or in parts, and even a dictionary may be made, to which new words are added from time to time. LANGUAGE THE CHILD The length of time such a language is used varies greatly. In some cases the interest lasts only a few weeks; in others ten or twelve years. Two children who invented their tongue used it so constantly that their parents made every effort to dissuade them from it, but in vain. After two years, however, they gradually began to use English. In another case a man records that he has spoken his secret language to himself for fifty years. That is, he thinks in it, and when he speaks or writes translates into English. The motive for using the language is, as a rule, the desire for secrecy. The older children begin to employ it to keep secrets from those not in their clique; another language is used in another clique, and so on. The language is used in writing notes in school, and on all occasions where mystery and secrecy are desirable. The hearing and speaking of words comes before reading; and the brain centers employed in hearing and speaking are the first developed and Speech and ^j^^ ^^^^^^ firmly established. Lukens con- reading. ■' eludes from this that a child should at first be allowed to read out loud, and later to himself. Children learning to read whisper the word to them- selves. After the child by his instinctive babblings and per- sistent imitation has learned to speak words, he learns to use them with a significance from con- Language stantlv hi-arintf one word used in connec- and thought. - '^ tion with a given object. In so far as the same word is used for different objects or situations, he is left helplessly struggling for the common meaning hidden beneath all this diversity; and again when LANGUAGE -i ^ -i different words are used with the same meaninf,% as in the various forms of bt\ he is led astray into seeking differences where none exist. Hence comes the value of language as an aid in the' development of concepts, and as a revealer to us of their growth in the child's mind. At first he uses words in altogether too wide a sense. "Mamma," "bath," "wow-wow," are applied not only to the par- ticular objects he knows, but to all that in any degree resemble them. The child does not see differences distinctly enough to mark off individuals unless there is some striking characteristic to aid him. He rather associates the word with the whole situation in which it is used, and oftentimes with all the details of it. Thus, Romanes gives the case of a child who saw a duck on the water, and called it "quack." After that he called all birds and insects "quack" and also all liquids. Still later, he saw an eagle on a piece of money and called it "quack" again. Lindner's daughter when asking for an apple, was taught to say "apple," and thereafter used the word as meaning cat. Another child used the word "ta-ta" to say good-by; then when anything was taken away; then for the blowing out of a light. Still another used "hat" for anything put on his head, including a brush and comb. Dipping bread in gravy is called a "bath." The palate is the "teeth roof"; the road is the "go"; the star is the "eye"; all metals are "keys," etc. In all such cases we notice that the child is trying to classify, and must use what he already has in the way of words to aid him. So also with relations — a much more difficult thing, and one in w^hich a child is likely to get confused. A chiltl will have a vague 334 THE CHILD idea of quanlily, but can not at first express or under- stand too much and too little, too bij^and too small, etc. lie may get them in one situation, but when the same object that is too big for one thing is too Expressing ^^^^,^[1 j-^j. .^i^^ther, it is beyond him. Mere It 6 1 a. T/1 U • is the root of his trouble with "1" and "you." It is not sur^irising that little George thought "the Doctor came and shook his (Willie's) head and gave him nasty physic, too." "Buy" and "sell," "lend" and "Ijorrow," "teach" and "learn," are thus all pitfalls for him, and at first are confused. Here again we can trace the race parallel. Many people use "learn" for "teach" and we apply "pleasant," "sore," etc., both to our feelings and the object that causes them. Our abstract words also bear unmistak- able marks of their concrete origin. "Spirit" is "breath"; "wrong" is "awry," "twisted," or "bitter"; "right" is "straight," and so on through the list. In his hasty generalizing the child makes many mis- takes in his conclusions, and so a process of limiting or correcting old concepts and of more fi^°-^rW^ carefully forming new ones begins. A good example of such limitation is given by Darwin. His son called fooii "mum," sugar was "shu mum," and licorice, "black shu mum." Such words as "titeth roof" for palate, "eye curtain" for eyelid, "tell wind" for weather-vane, show both generalization and limitation. On the other hand, of course, if the child's experience of a word is too nar- row, he will make ludicrous mistakes in over-limita- tion. Thus one boy said that the good Samaritan poured paraffin into the wounds of the sick man. Oil meant only paraffin to him. The child who entreated LANGUAGE ^^5 his mother to "buy him a brother while they were cheap at the show because children were half-price," labored under a similar difficulty. Perhaps also the strict insistence of little children on exactly the same words in retellin^^ a story shows their feeling of a strangeness with words. When Mr. Two-and-a-half- years is asked, "Shall I read to you out of this book?" he answers, "No, but something inside of it," because that is what he wants. Love of nonsense songs, and of Mother Goose, and the making up of nonsense rhymes mark this period also, which may begin as early as three and a half years. A little child will often sit by himself singing over lists of word: >nani, pam, tivn, sam, jam, etc., taking an immense delight in it. Sometimes he will rhyme his answers to your questions, or make all his conversation rhythmical. With the process of narrowing or limitation well marked, the child's way is comparatively clear before him. It is thenceforth the usual process of the forma- tion of correct concepts as traced by Baldwin. An object is first given which is both percept and concept. When other objects are presented like this in some respects, the same word is used for all, until the child fails to get what he wants by this common word, and so is forced to make species and varieties to go under the larger class. In the expression of the ideas, he uses the words that he knows, making new and quaint combinations, but little by little imitation teaches him the conventional signs, and he drops the original forms. 22 -, 2(j THE CHILD REFERENCES Allen, M. A. Development of Child's Language. Mother's Nursery Guide, February, 1S93. Buckman, S. S. Speech of Children. Nineteenth Century, 1897, 792-807. Canfield, W. B. Development of Speech in Infants. Babyhood, May, 1897. Chamberlain, A. F. The Child, 107-171. L. W. Scott. Champneys, F. H. Notes on an Infant. Mind, Vol. III., 104. Chrisman, O. Secret Language. C. S. M., 1896, 202-11. Also Century, 189S. 54-58. Collins, J. Genesis and Dissolution of the Faculty of Speech. N. Y. Macmillan, S3. 50. Darwin, C. Biography of a Child. Mind, 1877. Dewey, John. Psycholog^y of Infant Language. Psy. Rev., 1894, Vol. I., 63-66. Gale, Harlow T. Vocabularies of Three Children. GaW s Psycho- logical Studies, 1900, Vol. I., 70-117. Greenwood, J. M. Vocabularies of Children. Rcpt. as Supt. of Kansas City Scfwols, 1S87-S8, pp. 52-65. Groos, Karl. The Play of Man, 31-48, 294-300. N. Y. Apple- ton, §1.50. Hale, H. Origin of Language. Proc. Am. Assoc. Adv. Sc, Vol. XXXV., 1S86. (Account of language invented by children. Summary in Romanes' Mental Eiwlution of Man, 138-144. N. Y. Appleton, §3.00.) Holden, E. S. Vocabulary of Children under Two Years. Trans. Am. Philol. Ass'n, 1877, 58-68. Humphreys, W. Contributions to Infantile Linguistics. Trans. Am. Philol. Ass'n, 1880. Kirkpatrick, E. A. How Children Learn to Talk. Science, O. S. Sept. 25, 1891. Lamson, Mary Swift. Life and Education of Laura Bridg- nian. Boston. Houghton, Mifflin, $1.50. Lukens, Herman. Learning of Language. Ped. Sem., 1894-96, 424-460. Mach, E. Language: Its Origin, Development and Significance for Scientific Thought. Open Court, 1900, Vol. XIV.. 171-178. LANGUAGE ^-17 Mallery, G. Sign Language among North American Indians. isi An. Rept. Bureau of Ethnology, 188 1. (Also sum- marized in Romanes' Menial Evolution in Mati. N. Y. Appleton, §3.00.) McKendrick, J. G. Experimental Phonetics. Nature, 1901, 182-189. Noble, E. Child Speech. Education, Seiitember and October, 1888. Perez, B. First Three Years of Childhood, 234-262. Syracuse. Bardeen, Si. 50. Pollock, F. Infant's Progress in Language. Mind, Vol. III. Potter, S. O. Speech and Its Defects. Phil. Blakiston, $1.00. Prayer, W. Mind of the Child — Senses and Intellect, 99-1 88. N. Y. Appleton, Si. 00. (Very detailed and accurate account of speech from birth to three years. See appendix for sum- mary of Sigismund, Lobish, Taine, Striimpell. Darwin, Vierordt, Schultze, Lindner, Tiedemann, Feldmann, Holden, Haldemann, Humphreys.) Ribot, Th. Abstraction Prior to Speech. Open Court, 1899. 14-20. Evolution of Speech. Opett Court, 1899, 266-27S. (Anthro- pological in nature.) Romanes, G. J. Mental Evolution in Man, Chapter VI. Also see Index. N. Y. Appleton, S3. 00. Salisbury, A. A Child's Vocabulary. Educ. Rev., Vol. VII., 289-290. (Vocabulary of child at 32 weeks and 5|^ years.) Sanford, E. C. Language of Children. Notes. Fed. Sent., 1891, 257-260. (Summary of many men.) Scripture, E. W. Terminal Verb in Infant Speech. Science, O. S. Vol. XXIII., 62. (Observation to show that English child sometimes naturally puts infinitive at end of sentence, instead of directly after verb.) Researches in Experimental Phonetics. Studies from Yale Fsy. Lab., 1899, Vol. VII., i-ioi. Stevenson, A. Speech of Children. Science, O. S. March 3, 1893. Sully, James. Studies of Childhood— The Little Linguist. N. Y. Appleton, S2.50. Taine, H. Acquisition of Language by Children. Mind, 1877. Ta'"ne, H. On Intelligence, Vol II., 138-151. N. Y. Holt. $2, 50. 138 THE CHILD Tiedemann, Theirry. Record of Infant Life. vSyracuse. Bardeen, $0.15. (Interesting as one of the very first care- ful records of a child's language.) Tracy F. Psychology of Childhood. Boston. Heath, §0.90. Wolfe, H. K. Color Vocabulary of Children. Univ. of Neb- Studies, July, 1890, 205-245, CHAPTER XVII Rhythm and Music 1. Ask adults and children to name the first ten nursery rhymes that come into their heads. nK»„^„o J ■ Observa- Note the rhythms. tions. 2. Compare the rhythm and time of tunes in your head with your heart beat and breathing. 3. Notice what songs your children sing most spon- taneously. 4. Ask what song they like best and notice whether the liking is due to (i) Season, c. g.^ Christmas songs. (2) Imitation. (3) Permanent interest. 5. Try to get song composition from some child or small group of children uninstructed in music. Before taking up rhythm as related to music, let us first notice how general a thing it is and universality how it underlies all mental activity. of riiytiini. Natural phenomena almost universally take a rhythmical form. We have first the great swing of the worlds in their course about the center of the uni- verse, in a rhythm never yet completed. Then we have the course of each world about its sun, of each satellite about its world, and the rotation of the various worlds upon their axes, making the rhythms of the year, month and day. In our sun there seem to be rhythms recurring about every eleven years, causing 339 ;40 THE CHILD our sun spots, and, it is seriously conjectured, affecting the harvests of our earth and resulting in disturbed atmospheric and organic conditions which lead to our periodical money panics and outbreaks of crime and suicide. However this may be, it is unquestionable that the yearly, monthly, and daily rhythms seriously modify both the vegetable and animal creation. Some plants have a daily rhythm of growth and rest; most of them have an aniuial one; all seek the sun. Even the moon influences the growth of some plants. In the animal world there are corresponding rhythms. 'Growth is faster in summer than in winter, and we can each observe annual rhythms in our mental moods according to the seasons. Certain states of mind and even trains of thought are likely to recur with each season. "Spring poetry," so much laughed at, or something corresponding to it, is, I suspect, written by many more people than are willing to acknowl- edge it. The monthly rhythms seem to be especially con- nected with the reproductive and nervous systems. The period of gestation in various species of animals is usually a month, or a number of days which is seven or some multiple of seven. Disturbances of the nervous system, recurrent insanities, abnormal cravings for liquors and other stimulants, are also likely to have a monthly rhythm. Weekly rhythms are less clearly marked, but as we saw in the chapter on growth, there is a weekly rhythm of growth which was probably the cause of the change in our manner of living on Sunday. It has led to cer- tain rhythms of thought and feeling. We sleep later, we are hungry at different tim(|K, and we think differently RHYTHM AND MUSIC 341 The daily rhythm of sleep and waking is a universal one and it seems to be accompanied by one of growth. This is a genuine organic rhythm, caused probably by the rhythm of day and night, and can not be easily changed so that we shall sleep in the day and work at night. There are many other bodily rhythms, of which we will mention only a few: the pulse and heart beat, respiration, walking, and speech. Every special cell seems to have its own rhythm of alter- bodily nate activity and rest; the nervous system rhythms. sends out rhythmical stimuli, differing in different parts. Thus the brain can send out only about thirteen per second, and the cord about thirty-four. Fatigue is also a rhythmical thing, a period of exhaustion alter- nating with one of recovery. Not only is every bodily process a rhythmical one, but every mental one as well. Any one who watches himself will observe alternations of waxing and wan- ing in the distinctness of his ideas and mental images. If he tries to hold one idea unchanged, he will be able to see clearly the rhythm of his attention. This is perhaps best shown in retinal rivalry. As rhythm is such a fundamental thing in nature, it is not surprising that when given to us objectively it finds in us a response. Almost any effect jwost corn- can be produced in susceptible people by moniy liked appropriate rhythms, from putting them to ^^y*^°is. sleep to rousing them to a state of frenzy closely akin to madness. Just what rhythm will have each effect, is not fully decided upon. Baldwin found that when he suddenly discovered himself singing a tune, the rhythm and time might be' "determined by any one of a 342 THE CHILD number of factors — his step, as he walked, his heart beat, or his breathin;^. It seems reasonable that a rh\-lhni which is in accord with and slower than the rhythmic activities of the body would be soothing; if faster, exciting, and if of a different kind, unpleasant. Mr. Holton found also that in listening to a series of uniform clicks the most common grouping within the widest limits was by 2's, when the rate of the clicks was moderate; when fast, by the heart beats. When the stimuli were .795 seconds apart, the mind grouped by 2's; .460, by 3's; .407, by 4's. Usually he found that the breathing accommodated itself to the rhythm instead of vice versa. Whether a grouping is by 2, 4, S, 16, etc., or 3, 6, 12, etc., seems to depend upon tlu; rapidity of the stimuli. But why 2 or 3 is chosen is unexplained, unless it varies with the pulse. Grouping by 5's is always very difficult. These observations ha\'e been confirmed in another way by Triplett and Sanford. They asked large num- bers of persons to send in lists of the first Rhymes. , , ... ten nursery rhymes that came mto their heads. Of these, they selected the one hundred most often mentioned and examined their rhythm. They found that, I. The most frequent stanza is of four lines, with four stresses, the lines rhyming in couplets. A com- mon exam[)le is: "Georgie porgie, pumpkin pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry," etc. 2 The second in frecjuency consists of the first and third lines with four stresses, and the second and RHYTHM AND MUSIC -7j^-> fourth with thrcl^ with or without an internal rhyme. "Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow," etc. This rhyme is much less common than the first, in child poetry. 3. Three three-stress lines and one four-stress, with the last line a repetition of the first. "Hickory, dickory, dock. The mouse ran up the clock." These three rhythms include four-fifths of the one hundred nursery rhymes, and one-half of the hymns in a hymnal (the particular hymnal not given). The remainder of the rhythms differ widely. Triplett and Sanford find that in the recitation of these rhythms, there is a general uniformity in the intervals between stresses except at the end of lines, where they are longer; and there is a general quicken- ing of time toward the end of the piece. The characteristic movement of the common rhythms depends partly on the distribution of the pauses and partly on this quickening. Tests on school children show that they force the words into a pattern, but also vary the patterns some- what: It II "Sing a song of six pence," or, / I I "Sing a song of six pence." Turning now' to music, we find all sorts of theories as to its origin. Darwin advanced the theory that music originated as a courtship art both in birds and 344 THE CHILD in man, but actual observations of the animals near- est to man and of sava,q;es do not se(;m to confirm this \-ie\v. Still we may su[)pose that at first music! ° language and music were not distinct, the cry being the common root from which the two have developed in different ways. Music proper, or melody, seems to arise first in connection with the dance, and the dance in its original form was the re})roduction of the activities of existence or, it may be, a propitiation of the gods. Uniformly the dance takes a rhythmic character. At first it is performed in silence, but as the dancers get aroused they give vent to their feelings in more violent movements, and in cries, the cries naturally assuming a rhythmic character consonant with the movements. Thus the rude song is born, a song without words, and in almost a monotone. This theory fits in very well with what we can see ol children's natural musical tastes. The development ol melod}'' and harmony is much later than the apprecia- tion of rhythmical cries. Gurney says that the former does not appear until four or five years. We should expect kindergarten children then not to care so much about singing the melody as about keeping time. The child, as we have seen, is born deaf, and remains so for a time varying from a few hours tc se\'eral days. When hearing is established. Child's love i " i i i ] rr i. r ofnoises sound seems to have marked eiiects, for small children are more easily terrified by loud sounds than by almost anything else. Preyer and Perez note that in the seventh and eighth weeks a child listened to the singing of lullabies with much pleasure and showed an appreciation of piano playing by his vigorous movements and laughter at the loud notes. RHYTHM AND MUSIC 345 Children of six months show great enjoyment of music; at nine months some will reproduce musical tones. Perez also records the case of a child who sang himself to sleep, when only nine months old. By the age of a year some will reproduce tones quite perfectly. Sigis- mund says that musical tones are imitated before spoken ones. Noises of all kinds appeal to children, even unpleasant ones, especially if there is any rhyth- mic arrangement, and they delight in reproducing them as far as possible. Children vary greatly among themselves and at dif- ferent ages in their ability to distinguish tones. We find the child who sings the scale in one tone from c to c ; and another one who can sing „!^^tiTf" „ ^ ° ness to tones. the chromatic scale with ease. Whether any given child is tone-deaf or simply lacks training, can be told only by experiment, and, even if not up to the aver- age, many a child's ability can be improved by practice. In children from six to nineteen years of age, the least sensitive age is six, when the least perceptible difference of two tones is about one-quarter of a tone. Thence to nine years there is twice as much gain in sensitiveness as from nine to nineteen years; and after- ward a more gradual gain, with a break and retro- gression at ten and at fifteen years. The actual tastes of children seem to have been little observed. Miss Gates' and Mr. Marsh's articles are the only ones on this subject. Miss songs liked Gates had answers from two thousand chil- t>y cnudren. dren, one hundred boys and one hundred girls for each year from six to sixteen. I. She found that 22 per cent of the girls and 12 per cent of the boys of seven years like best lullabies and 346 THE CHILD baby songs, while 14 per cent of the girls and 7 per cent of the boys like home songs the best. "Home Sweet Home" is the favorite. Of the seven-year-old boys and girls 43 per cent like school songs the best; nature songs are the favorites. Twice as many boys as girls like negro songs. "Swanee River" and "Massa's in the Cold, Cold Ground" are the favorites. 2. Religious songs are best liked by two hundred and ninety-six girls and six hundred antl ninety-six boys at six years; 23 per cent of the girls and 6 percent of the boys at thirteen years; 27 per cent of the girls and 6 per cent of the boys at sixteen years, making an aver- age of 18 per cent. "Nearer my God" is the favorite. 3. National songs are best liked by 13 per cent of the girls and 18 per cent of the boys at seven years; 29 per cent of the girls at twelve years; 40 per cent of the boys at eight years. "America" and the"Star Spangled Banner" divide the honors here. Marsh gives this table of "The one song he liked best in all the world." The returns are from six thousand three hundred and thirty-eight children. The table is given in per cents. Boys Grade School Sunday School Patriotic Strekt Home I 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 II 43 39 29 12 7 6 II 9 3 3 10 II 8 10 II 4 10 63 I 16 26 20 40 42 30 15 48 f>o 5S 65 25 9 9 14 21 iS 17 20 9 9 5 33 9 10 10 12 12 21 ID 14 26 25 25 RHYTHM AND MUSIC Girls 347 Grade School Sunday School Patriotic Street Home I 3 5 6 7 8 Q lo n 43 43 39 12 9 13 i6 3 I o 15 lO II 15 9 iq 22 I lO 29 13 15 25 32 37 20 32 21 47 27 6 6 8 15 17 21 2 7 4 II II 15 24 26 17 26 35 38 44 Boys and Girls Grade School Sunday School Patriotic Street Home I 2 3 4 s 6 7 8 9" 10 II 45 42 39 19 9 7 12 13 3 13 16 9 14 13 7 15 16 7 26 23 23 31 35 41 43 37 44 59 53 26 8 8 II 16 17 17 21 5 9 5 7 10 II 12 13 18 24 14 21 27 33 41 Many reasons are given why the favorite piece is liked. As children grow older, more say it is because they like the music or words, and fewer because they have associations with it, or it is nice, pretty or sweet. The associations are of all sorts — of home, Christmas or some holiday, with historical events, or simply with smell or some other sense. A very small per cent of the favorites are movement songs, and as a rule major keys are preferred to minor ones. -. jg THE CHILD It is interesting to note the changes in taste with advancing years. The school songs show these varia- tions: boys and girls, 43 per cent in ist tas*e^^^^° grade to 9 per cent and 16 per cent in 8th grade, and none in iith grade. S. S. songs, boys, 10% in 1st grade, to 16% in nth grade. " " girls, 15% " " " 29% " _ " Patriotic songs show remarkable lluctualions in the liking of the boys and girls, as the table indicates. Street songs increase in number to 4th grade; decrease slightly to the 7th, and rapidly to the nth. They then rise suddenly to 33 per cent in nth grade. With the girls the curve is of the same nature though of a smaller per cent, except that at the nth grade it decreases to instead of rising. The per cent of home songs increases to 6th grade, falls in 7th grade and then increases gradually. The subject of children's musical composition is one that is not considered nearly as often as children's drawings, and yet there would seem to be songs by ^^^^ reason in the nature of the case why cliildren. children should not create songs as well as landscapes. The first musical productions are not distinct from the beginning of speech. The child cries, howls, gurgles and babbles, not only when he is hurt or pleased, but just to see what sounds he can make. Sometimes one set of sounds takes possession of him for a time and he will seem unable to keep from repeating it. Perez gives a case of a little girl who repeated "tira-tira" for two weeks. Children a little older delight in nonsense rhymes, in chain rhymes, in alliteration, etc., and will make u[) all sorts of rhymes RHYTHM AND MUSIC 349 and tunes for them. Children of all ages experiment in producing noises not only with the vocal organs but also with any instruments they can get hold of. At first their song is monotonous, hardly to be distin- guished from the speaking voice, but by the age of four or five years the two are well marked. There seems to be a genuine impulse to musical expression in many children which, although modified by imitation, is still a true originality. So far as the writer's knowledge goes, the only sys- tematic work that has been done by school children in song composition is in the Elementary School of the University of Chicago. This is so suggestive that the teacher's account and some of the songs are given. SONG COMPOSITION* That music is an important factor in the growth of the child's esthetic nature is a fact generally con- ceded. Is it, however, practically made use of? Is the nursery, which we now realize must be artistic as well as wholesome, furnished with the means of pro- ducing beautiful sounds — failing the human voice, with the vox Jmmana, or other soft-toned instrument? As early as he is shown beauty in color and form the child should have beauty in tone and melody given him. There are no unmusical children. Inter- est in musical expression is one of the natural resources of the child, and unconsciously he will awaken to a melodic conception through repetitions, in pure and gentle tone, of melodies suited to his understanding. This process can not be begun too early. Having understood, he possesses a mental picture which he seeks to express by humming or singing. This * By May Root Kern. i50 THE CHILD expression of an esthetic impulse is as natural to the child as his expression in color. Needing no utensil, it is simpler, and would Ik; more readily used were his early environment as full of tone as of color. The more he hears of this music, the more he assimilates and the more he has to express. And not alone through imitation. If he be given a poetic phrase which touches his imagination, he can give his own melodic conception of it; and the awakening of this creative faculty brings a joy which stimulates the growth of his whole esthetic nature. There is nothing more precious to a child than his own creation, and to preserve his melodic thought he will wish to acquire a knowledge of the symbols neces- sary to express it. The basis for a study of the science of music is formed by his desire to express various forms of melodic thought. He realizes the necessity for the controlled use of his fingers to express them beautifully on the keyboard, and grasps the necessity of manual drill. His whole study of the technique of piano-playing is illumined, and the proper relationship of idea and its servant expression has been preserved. Problems introduced by the growing intricacy of his conceptions — key relationships, transposition, har- mony — are mastered with a natural motive, and, Kcl by his own impulse, he is ready with open mind and heart to receive, according to his capacity, the riches which master-minds are still pouring nto the music treasuries of the world. In the school, a problem to be coped with arises from the diversity of musical attainment in the groups. Children from non-musical environment are to be handled with others who are developed musically. To RHYTHM AND MUSIC 351 lessen the chasm, much thou,^'ht is given to creating a musical atmosphere. The formal side of the work is made as melodious as possible, and all technical exer- cises are clothed in harmony. The children have weekly opportunity of hearing a short program of music by the best composers, performed by friends of the school, by teachers, or by pupils prepared through outside work. The older children have heard short and simple talks on the lives and work of the great masters, illustrated by piano and vocal selections. A large part of each period of work is spent in song- singing. The school has been divided into two choruses, one ranging from six to eight and a half years of age, the other from nine to thirteen. These choruses have sung melodies learned by rote in their group work, the older chorus having in its repertoire songs by Franz Schumann, Wagner, Reinecke, Hum- perdinck, and some of the best English composers. In connection with their work in Latin, they have learned a Latin song of nine stanzas and a shorter Christmas hymn; in connection with French, several chansons populaircs and two old French rounds. The latter, being very simple in melody, have furnished a valu- able exercise in concentration. There being in this chorus a considerable proportion of children unable to sing a connected melody correctly, perfection in detail is impossible. The special aims, other than famili- arity with good songs and the memorizing of texts, have been bodily poise, deep breathing, careful enunci- ation, and a pure quality of tone. A picked chorus of twenty-five voices is now being arranged which will be trained to do some model singing for the benefit of the school. 23 THE CHILD Owing to the wide differences in musical develop- ment, it was difficult to find a common ground for the work of each group as a whole. The technical work founded on short, original phrases sometimes failed to arouse interest in those children who but imperfectly grasped melodic idea. The proposition, however, to select a topic and write a complete com- posite song, which should express the genius of the group, brought a unity of impulse at once. It was supposed that the unmusical children would devote themselves to the text and leave the musical setting to the rest. But not so; the general enthusiasm awoke them to an overflow of musical ideas, and a firm belief in their own phrase as given. Whatever of novelty the songs possess is owing to the odd inter- vals offered by these non-musical children. It was necessary to harmonize them attractively to gain their acceptance by the musical members of the group, who, left to themselves, would have given only the most obvious phrases and thus produced more com- monplace results. After several successful songs had been composed, a group of children between seven and eight years, below the average in musical development, but having a strong feeling for rhythm, wrote the following, which is saved from monotony by the final phrase given by a boy almost tone-deaf. He offered the phrase, which was repeated on the piano as nearly as possible as he had given it. He objected, however, saying what was played was not what he intended to give. After repeated attempts, the teacher succeeded in discover- ing what he had persistently kept in his mind, but could not express. RHYTHM AND MUSIC 353 CHRISTMAS MORNING Autumn '98 zt —I — I -Jan 1. One wiii-ternioni Be-fore the dawn, We woke and 'twas 2. I had a doll And she was small, My broth - er f^^. , h-i— h-i TF^-^'^^'^FF — ^ — 1 ^^-^^— r= — p h» • hi^' '--• ' , • • Christ-mas had a The girls and the boys Quick The ba - by, too, Had :t :t ^ ran to their toys, And all be - gan to play, some- thing new — A lit - tie dog named Spot. It was at first thought that the six-year-old children were too young to carry a thought through the several periods (occurring but twice a week) required to finish a song. At their request, however, they were allowed to undertake the task, and evinced as much continuity of thought and purpose as the older children. In writing the texts for songs, the youngest children, as soon as the idea of rhythm and rhyme is gained, insist upon making consecutive lines rhyme as in the "Valentine Song." They free themselves graduallji from rhyme limitations, as: "The children will go Out in the snow And have some jolly fun. They'll make big balls While the snow falls. Until a snowman's done.' 354 THE CHILD VALENTINE SONG Winter '99. J 1_ 0^4"^^ -^i-- — 1 , ; 1 — h — 1 1 _«_ 1 — • -^-\ 1. Val 2. I'll — ^— - (.11 send 1 -•- line's my -•- day friend is a 1 near val - ■ ly en - here, tine, -4 -J -•- We The 1 V 1 4 J 1 1 , 2 5^ • 1 1 ^5-4-S- 1 , 1 — m— f — — • — wr^ ^— ^ -•- -•- -0- -^1 • -•- -t-. 1 — -J /m\' i i ' i \ 2 2 • r 1 (?J., 4- ' 1 ! L ' "■ '■ "' \ V^k 4 • ' m ^ ) 1 V 1 \ ^— - 1/ 4. ( 1 ^ 1 :4=::^i^p^=r a-:?: P * — * — •- — • —y ' — • — w — •— 1 w hope the postman will lining lis cheer; We'll clap onr hands for pret-tiest one that I can find; My cons -in will send L» 0^ L« 9. ^__1 1=^=t= -•- ,#- 1 ;3] :|^ at: ->;- :=^: -»— s*- joy when he brings Tlie roses, and doves, and pretty things, one to me, And then how liap-py we shall be. :5=J -:X=^ EE Hl^gS <«:- 53e -liZ- -^ — :lz=: =t jj Rhythm and music 355 And finally, able to conceive of the stanza as a whole, realize that only a minimum of rhyme is neces- sar)'. The twelve-year-old children completed two lines of a stanza for a winter song, but the effort was then abandoned, there being too much self-consciousness in the group to admit of free expression. Later their creative impulse triumphed and they produced a song for Lincoln's birthday: LINCOLN :zt ::t=t 1. 'Twas in a small log cab - in, One Feb-ru - a - ry 2. He rose to be a states - man Of ver - y great re- ^=p:1=: =i==i=^ --X^', :j=:]: ^^^K w=ES m—-. 4=:4 :ij: ?^=a: [-^rz: day, nown, -?^- A lit - tie Lin-coln ba - by In a His wis - dom saved the Un - ion, And -« -\ #3 — ■ — [-• 8 M — h* ' — • ► -•- -«- -^ -a|- -•- -•- -•- -•- -•- -•- ■•- -• it=tS: 356 THE CHILD :1=i :pt ttt*: small rude era - die lay; When at the age of sla - v'ry he put down; 'Tvvas in the spring of ^-^ e :4: diz t: t^ twelve, By night he stud - ied law, And six - ty - five That mes - sen - gers rode fast To n^q: :t=tTZ m]] ^=t: i:=F=t ::1=i when the morning dawned anew, A-gain took up his saw. bring the news of Ivincoln's death, — The noble life had passed. ::i; :X --X Pill m =|: ■z^- =1: E3E 11 winter 99- RHYTHM AND MUSIC WASHINGTON 357 1=11 night he crossed the Dei a w^ ^ -6'- - — H— ^ — :i -\gt — I -^_U,_ m RHYTHM AND MUSIC 361 ::1: ir^^^^^ you all day Be - cause I like you so! --t d- ijTl Is: :l r. r i^^3 As Easter approached, the six-year-old children, filled with anticipation of the day, asked to write a song about it. One child gave the first line with its melody; others quickly followed with the second and third lines. The fourth, however, required persistent effort before the requirements of rhythm and rhyme were met. The children showed no diminution of interest in wrestling with the problem. EASTER SONG Winter '99. =4==a _ | l '—i—~t ±i ^i=i m East - er day is coming soon, The rabbits will be here and lay: -•-=- ■.:r. d=:i=:t t- =t -^—25*- i In the gar-defi we shall find Eggs to paint and give a-way. Attempts made by the youngest classes of this school year have resulted equally well: 362 THE CHILD SANTA CLAUS* Autumn '99. 1^==^ 4 =#^=g— #-^#=^g=;^ -A ^ — ^ — San -taClaus, San- ta Claus is coniing,-ting - a - ling! The rein -deer are rac-ing and the lit - tie bells ring; He's bringing toys for lit-tIeboys,Anddollsfor lit -tie girls, And >—^ N— r> — ^-i :E, m :^— -> bring-ing for the bn - by A wool -ly lamb with curls. The group composed entirely of musically developed children was the last to produce a connected song. The original scheme of work — the study of selected songs with its detail, and the learning of symbols for their own short melodic phrases — contented them. Emulation, however, urged them to write, and they undertook the task as imitators, thus with less exhilara- tion than the others showed. Later a second impulse, more genuine than the first, resulted in one of the best of the school songs: *To musicians these songs are unusually interesting from their close resemblance to early folk-songs and narrative ballads, especially to the early German and English folk-songs. "Santa Claus", for instance, might be taken intact from an old choral, for its simplicity, its movement, and the feeling for minor in the sixth, seventh and eighth bars. A. E. T. Spring '99. RHYTHM AND MUSIC BOAT SONG 363 A-H- if— \ — • — — • 1 1, Tlieboat is rock - iiig, rock - ing, While we're on the 2. The sun sets in the ev - '.iing,And ght-ters on the -o_^_c_, m ^—m « ^^* :f .j . ^ . ' & i-i: m -i. — I- x^^ — -L.^_! 0- £t=zp: -V — ?— t/- wm ^ sea; The wind blows the sails gen-tly on, And sea; Gulls dive un -der the wa - ter, Then i^— »— S: m w ^^2^. ±^-y^- :pi izD: spray dashes up to nie. fly in the air so free, The lit ■ tie niennaids are Swift ly up to their lEE 'M THE CHILD P _^_ -i =p -^ __4 =:^rrziz=rzz Ry I • * • - f— '—^ —m >— 204-234. Biicher, Karl. Arbeit und Rythmus. Arb. d. Sat Its. Ges. d. IVt'ss. (Phil. Hist. Kl.), 1896, Vol. XVII., 130. Chamberlain, A. F. The Child, 174-197, 180-1S2, 452. L. W. Scott, §1.50. Dewey, John. Rhythm, Psycholot^y, 185-7. Music. Elementary School Record, No. 2. Chicago. Univ. of Chicago Press, $0.17. Gates, F. B. Musical Interests of Children. Jour, of Fed., 1898, Vol. II. Gilbert, J. Allen. Musical Sensitiveness of School Children. Studies of Vale Psy. Lab., Vol. I., 80-87. Gilman, B. J. Musical Expressiveness. Am. Jour, of /"^j, 42-73. Groos, Karl. The Play of i\f an, 18-48. N. Y. Appleton, §1.75. 72 THE CHILD Hofer, Mari Ruef. A Child's Song. Proc. N. E. A., 602-604. Matthews, W. S. B. Music as Discipline and Culture. Music, Vol. VI., 349-365- Marsh, Florence. Musical Phases of Child Study. Proc. N. E. A., 1S96, 891-892. (Abstract of Hall and Marsh's Early Musical Manifestations.) McDougall, R. Music Imagery. Psy. Rev., Vol. V., 463-476. (Account of a personal experience.) Meyer, Max. How a Musical Education Should Be Acquired, Ped. Sem., 1900, 124-131. (Account of Hooker's method.) Preyer, W. Senses and Will. See Index. N. Y. Appleton, §1.50. Sully, James. Studies of Cliildhood, 195-308, 409-492. N. Y. Appleton, §2.50. Tomlins. W. S. Music, Its Nature and Influence. CHAPTER XVIII Drawing 1. Before reading this chapter, draw the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Then compfare with the pictures and descriptions given in observa- the chapter. tioiis- 2. Make a collection of drawings of the story of Goldilocks. Observe these precautions: (i) Tell the story to the children just before they draw, so that it will be vividly present to their minds. (2) Give them as much choice in the material for drawing as possible — crayon, black and colored pencil, paints, etc., large and small sheets of paper. (3) Give them as much tifiic as they want, but have the pictures finished at one sitting. (4) In the case of little children, label at the time any ambiguous objects. 3. Make a collection of children's spontaneous draw- ings, especially of the very first ones, made by the child of eighteen months or so. Note how much encouragement the child received, and how much criticism and instruction. 4. Keep a dated record of the child's likes and dis- likes of colors and bright objects. As far back as we can penetrate, ancient peoples always had a love for bright objects, or for rare or 373 374 THE CHILD curious thiiij^s, and always loved to decorate them- selves. Among savage people of to-day, there are the . , same desires. Many motives unite to Love for _ ■' beauty strengthen these feelings, such as the desire universal. j-^^^. admiration from the oi:)posite sex, and the instinct of property; hut there seems also to be a spontaneous love for bright and glittering things, that is the germ of the esthetic sense. \\'hat the origin of artistic creation or expression was is still much disputed. It is so dI\'orced from prac- tical values, so apart from everyda)' life, that many have considered it a sort of excrescence that can not be explained by natural laws. It seems most reason- able, however, to suppose that it was at first the occu- pation of an idle hour when the i)rimitive man's supply of food was abundant, when he had rested, and when his mind recalled in thought the previous expe- riences of the chase or of war. Then, in the song and the dance, he reproduced the catching and killing of the prey; or with a sharp stone drew them upon his hunting knife. Both of these interests ai)i)ear in little children; they Icjve to hoard up bright things and to deck them- selves witli them; they reproduce in play and some- times in drawing their own experiences, although this first drama, song, or drawing is crude, and the love for it often intermittent. To trace the character of the growth of these interests is our present object. The subject, of children's artistic sense includes properly drawing, painting, modeling, music and story-telling. Only drawing and music can be consid- ered here, with occasional references to the other branches of art, and it should be understood that, as DRAWING 375 in all the subjects with which we have dealt, it is impossible to free the child entirely from adult influ- ence. At the very least, his taste is affected by the pictures in his home, the style of t^au' furniture, clothes, etc., and usually he is helped in his first attempts to draw by a copy made by his elders, and his own work is criticized or praised. For the sake of convenience, the subject of drawing may be divided into two parts: (i) the - . I / \ I 1 Love of color, appreciation or pictures, and (2) the mak- ing of pictures. Under the first head will also be included the very few observations that have been made on children's color sense. The baby is first attracted by bright objects, regard- less of their color or form, especially if they are mov- ing. Preyer's boy showed delight on the twenty-third day at the sight of a brightly lighted rose-red curtain, and when he distinguished colors, at the age of two, red and yellow were favorites, and blue and green least acceptable. So also with Miss Shinn's niece. Baldwin's child, on the contrary, liked blue best, white and red following closely. Unfortunately no yellow was used in Baldwin's experiments. Brown was a nearly neutral color to his child and to Miss Shinn's niece. As a rule we should probably find that the bright luminous colors would be chosen; thus a bright blue would be preferred to a dark red or vice versa, regardless of the color to a certain extent. But there is little evidence on this point. Another character- istic to be noted here is that contrast plays a large part in a child's appreciation of colors. Appreciation of form is not, at first, separated from movement, color, and size. Children as a rule like ^^(\ THE CHILD little thing's, probably because they have the feeling of power over them, of ability to ])rotect and caress them, which the\^ cannot have toward a large Love of form. , . ^' ^ r \ \ ^ l object. In form we hnd also not so much a love for symmetry, though that is present crudely, as for the movements of the object, and for those qualities which are connected with the children's own lives. Sully thinks that the love of flowers is the nearest a])proach of the child to pure esthetic enjoyment, although different (jualities attract different children. With some the enjoyment is almost entirely one of smell; with others, a U)ve of personal adornment. It seems to be much the same with very small boys and girls, but latc-r the bows learn to desj)ise th(;ir leanings toward such things. In all this, the child follows, in the main, the race development: bright or gaudy colors before delicate ones, and (he utilitarian value of objects before the esthetic. This appears again in the fact that few children care about landscape beauty. The sublimity of mountain or of sea arouses only fear, and the beau- tiful and lovely are lost in the child's interest in some detail that appeals to him. It is said, how truly I do not know, that in Greek literature there are very few passages that show any esthetic appreciation of nature. The sea is the barren sea; the land is much plowed, fertile, wooded, etc., the adjectives always pointing to the value to man. At first the baby acts like an animal with regard to representation of objects. He thinks the reflection in the ^ ■« .* /1\ Character Per cents Scenes }5 Fragments 65 Intprinrs 1 First Gkade Picture Character Per cents Series i Houses 84 '!><■« 55 Character Per cents Bears 69 Girl 50 Bears and Girl 32 'M^- i.i I'l. Character Per cents Scenes 88 Fragments 8 Interiors 1 1 rub Character Per cents Series O Houses 9J Trees 65 Character Per cents Bears 61 Girl 69 Bears and Girl J9 Flat( DRAWING og-) In the twenty-seventh month Helen ^^ot the idea of making each part of the figure, and from that time there was the attempt to make a copy, to follow an idea or object. She saw the con- nection between the pencil marks and the thing that she wanted to make and now directed her attention to the marks instead of to the movements. This is the time when drawing or the representation of an object really begins. Up to this time the use of the pencil has been only a form of exercise; now, it is a new language. It shows one interesting feature in common with language, and that is, that the first drawing tends to stand for all things. Thus Helen first drew a man. Later, in drawing birds she put into her drawing many of the marks which stood for a man. In this early work, the children do not appear to copy from the object, even when it is before them. A child told to copy a man lying down, draws him as she draws other men, stand- raww at they know. ing up. She may notice later the discrep- ancy, but at the time it does not trouble her at all. She draws the object as she knows it, not as she sees it, because the picture is a true language to her. Thus she shows people through the sides of the houses, and all the sides of the house, and the legs of the chair, etc., regardless of the actual appearance. A child has little or no technique, and so simplifies many things until tlie drawing seems to be little more than a symbol of the object; but that it is not sym- bolic to him is shown by his putting in striking details to identify particular persons or things. He has no sense of proportion or perspective. Men are taller 25 384 THE CHILD than houses, birds and dogs arc of the same size, and all appear in one plane. Barnes thinks that this lack of unity in the picture is due to the fact that the child thinks in very small units, and fails to look at the picture as a whole. He draws the outside of the house, then, going on with his story, he shows the people doing various things inside the house, forgetting bout the outside. It comes out again in the fact that often a child will repeat some detail in the story again and again without seem- ing to notice the rest. One child drew twenty-six Johnnies in "Johnnie Guck in Die Luft" and nothing else. Almost without exception the first pictures are out- lines or diagrams, not mass drawings. Whether they are svmbolic and conventional, or diagram- Outlines. .'. . ^ ,. <-i,,-, matic IS a point of dispute. Sully thinks that they very soon become conventional, that the child adopts a cer'iin outline for man, another for trees, etc., and sticks to it regardless of the various kinds of men and trees that he knows. Lukens, on the other hand, re •ds this, when it occurs, as a case of arrested develo ent and to be deprecated. If the child is allowed t' velop freely, he thinks that there will be a progress le production of natural effects. I am inclined to ; with Mr. Lukens on this, and I feel sure that wh; . Sully says is true, that many children are really ito this conventionalism by our very methods of teac One mass appearance repre- sents apple-trees, ai.o pines; and we teachers fre- quently do not know enough to appreciate an individual apple-tree when the budding Corot gives us one, but condemn him to draw apple-trees in general. Chariictcr Per cents Scenes 8; Fragments 2 Intcrinrs x TiiiKij Grade 1'ictuke Character Per cents Series 8 H ouses 86 Trees Sc Character Per cents Bears 46 Girl 7z Bears aiwl r;irl 28 h-Xi yf- a Character Per cents Scenes 84 Fragments 007 Interiors 12 Fol'RTH Gl^ADE PiCT' .'E- Character; Per cents Series 3 Houses 86 Trees 83 Character Per cents Bears J4 Girl 77 Bears and Girl 2J DRAWING 385 We have already seen that the object most often chosen by the children is the human figure. In draw- incf this, they begin with the full view of Drawing the head. At first only eyes and mouth of a man. are put into it, and the body is a mere jum- ble of lines. Later, arms and legs are added to the head, and after a time a body appears, but even then the arms may come out of the head for some time. Barnes found that full faces predominated until the age of nine, and then profiles. In the transition stage, the profile may be drawn with two eyes and ears. As we should expect, with right-handed children the profiles and animals face to the left, and the child draws the animal from the head back. In the drawing of horses, the observations of Miss Caroline Flanders* show these percentages: For first grade children, six to seven y->. years old, 30 per cent turn to rl') the right, 65 per cent to the left, ^-^ // /| and 12^ per cent to the front; diagram 14. in drawing a 58 per cent are profile; 12)^ horse twenty -five per r 11 r 4. Cent OF the Children be- per cent full face; 25 per cent ^^^^^ s,^ ^^^ s^^^^ p«„. are ambiguous creatures. (See duce ambiguous creatures ^^ . V , , Like This, Diagram 14.) 73 percent have eyes; 51^ per cent nose; 60 per cent mouth; 58 per cent ears; 85 per cent tail; 16^ per cent mane; 31^^ per cent hair; 96 per cent legs, varying in number from one to four. Goldilocks was drawn by the kindergarten children, 22 per cent of the drawings facing left; 13 per cent front; 36 per cent right; 7 per cent back. In the * Unpublished data on 1,000 Chicago school children from kin- dergarten through eighth grade. -•36 THE CHILD second j^rradc fewer faced front, and more sideways; and in the seventh and eif^^hth gradi;s most faced to tile left. Joints wt-re first drawn l^y loiirth <^M-adc children. In the illiistratinj.^ of stories, ICarl Ivarnes found that freedom in drawing, as shown 1)\' the number of scenes, increases up to the aye of thirteen, and Drawing {{^^.^^ decreases to sixteen. All the chil- of StiOT'iCS dren who declined to draw were over thir- teen. Here again we find the self-consciousness of adolescence, the feeling of inal)ilit\' in the presence of new ideals. In all cases, the children prc;fcr large, distinct fig- ures, especially for the hero. In the story <3f Johnnie, the little boy is often made much larger than the men who rescue him. We have a nice analogy here in the Greek custom of representing heroes and gods as larger than ordinary men. We find a similar case in the exaggerations given to details which are prominent in the child's mind. A pair of glasses will dominate the entire picture; a watch chain will spread over the whole Iront; vest buttons of heroic proportions will a[)pear, or some characteristic attitude will be represented in its extreme. The child is an unconscious caricaturist. One curious fact here is that the catastrophe is not drawn nearly as often as the scenes just preceding and following it. Mr. Barnes lays this to a sense in the children like that in adults, which leads them to enjoy most the suspense, and afterwards the pleasure of rescuing the lucky hero. It seems that one may fairly question this explanation, though it is difficult to offer asatisfactory one in its place. We can hardly think character I'lr cents Scenes 84 Fragments o Interiors 15 Fifth Grade Pictike Character Per cents Series o Houses 85 Trees. 77 Character Per cents Bears 28 Girl 64 Bears and Girl 9 Character Per cents Scenes , 61 Fragments 20 interiors i? Sixth Grade Picture Character Per cents Series o Houses 58 Trees 59 Character Per cents Bears 36 Girl 58 Bears and Girl 22 Plat DRAWING 387 the children would consider the catast-'ophe too diffi- cult. Perhaps it may seem too complicated to attract them. The observations made by Miss Flanders upon one thousand children from four to fifteen years old, who drew the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, confirm Professor Barnes', and add some further inter- esting details. Many of the drawings were with colored chalks, which the children Experiment - , , . , . , • 1 witli Story of preierred when given a choice, and with Goldilocks. which they drew better than with black and white. In the kindergarten, most of the children use lines instead of mass; a few mass, and a few both. In the first grade, where instruction in drawing begins, the figures are almost equally divided between the two; and beyond the first grade, mass is used nearly always, showing the effect of instruction. This again leads to the conclusion that children naturally draw in line, even when given a medium like crayon, that lends itself to mass; but that they can soon be taught to see and draw in mass. The effect of the teacher upon the children also comes out very distinctly in these papers. Where the teachers like drawing the children are freer in expres- sion, improve more rapidly, and enjoy the work better. The gradual changes in the pictures from kindergar- ten through eighth grade drawings are shown in the series running through this chapter. The fig- ures with each picture show the percentage andtce^^s'^ of children in that grade who drew essen- tially the same picture, and also the variations from it. 'The remarkable thing about these pictures is their uniformity of scene. Why do the children choose a -.OQ THE CHILD JyOO scene which is really so little connected with the story? Why do they take a landscape instead of an interior? In the second j^'rade, sky and ground are shown as meeting; before that, with a space between. There were very few sirics of drawings, probably because the children have not been shown how to draw in that way. In the higher grades more detail appears in the drawings. Thr(Highout, the details are copied from what the children see about them — a peculiar style of window; high stair in front of the house; family por- traits on the walls. The totals of Miss Flandcr's work are seen in the following summary. All the pictures have houses: lo per cent in mass; 80 percent in line; 9 percent in both; 14 per cent transparent; 5 per cent with doors; 12 per cent with knobs; 2 per cent with door panels; 69 per cent with windows; 6 per cent with curtains; 65 per cent with chimneys; 41 per cent with smoke. Sixty-eight per cent have trees: 9 per cent in line, 73 percent in mass, and 16 per cent in both; 34 P^'i" cent have forests, and i per cent flowers. Sky and ground are shown by 65 per cent, ground alone by 15 per cent, and sky alone by less than I per cent. Bears arc shown by 47 per cent; with bear shapes 27 per cent, human shape 20 per cent, animal shape 21 per cent. Their faces arc: profile 55 per cent, full 23 per cent, double 21 per cent. Of features, 20 per cent have eyes, 45 per cent tails, 9 per cent arms. Goldilocks is drawn by 66 per cent. She is allowed head, neck, body, skirt and feet by T,y, per cent; head, body and feet by 5/; per cent; head, skirt and feet by 10/^ per cent; head, body, skirt and feet by 68>^ per Seventh Grade Pictikk Character Per cents Character Per cents Scenes 45 Series 36 Fragments 9 Houses 70 Interiors 9 Trees 70 Character Per cents Bears 61 Girl 73 Bears and Girl a6 Character Per cents Scenes 52 Fragments 18 Interiors 20 Eighth Grade Picture Character Per cents Series 9 Houses 68 Treci 64 Character Per cents Bears 27 Girl 56 Bears and G'H 14 Pl8 DRAWING 189 cent; head and skirt only by 2!^ per cent; full face in 22^ per cent; doubtful outlines in 41^ per cent. As to features, she is allowed eyes by 23^ per cent; nose by 2\% per cent; mouth by 19^ per cent; ears by I per cent, and hair by 47:^ per cent; feet by 76 per cent; shoes by 33 per cent; arms by 50 per cent; hands by 9// per cent; fingers by 5/^ per cent. Certain conclusions are easily reached on the basis of these facts. It is evident that drawing should begin with the human figure as a whole and not figures vs. with conventional designs, and should only conventional by degrees work up to the analysis involved ®^^s^^- in the latter. The method of using drawing, to illus- trate stories, scenes from child life, etc., is to be com- mended instead of a conventional course in drawing. Ruskin laments the devotion of the school to geo- metrical forms. He says: "A great draughtsman can, so far as 1 have observed, draw every line but a straight one. When the child longs to turn out men, dogs, cars, horses, heroes, etc., he is showing his freedom; but he is bidden to draw a straight line, a curve or the like. When nature intended him to be as yet a player, an artist only, the school seeks to make him a geometrician; when he desires to make many lines, he is confined to one; when he endeavors to produce a whole, it seeks to make him produce parts only. Neither the child nor primitive man begins with a geometric line— it is in a scribble that the history of graphic art lies hid." These facts would also lead us to conclude that chil- dren draw naturally in outline instead of in mass, and that shadow, etc., should be introduced by degrees as the child learns to separate knowledge from sight. It 390 THE CHILD can liardly be said that all these children would use outline naturally if there were not some reason for it. Technique should be introduced slowly. Probably by the age of nine most children will a[)[)reciate some help in this direction. Too often children are simply taught certain tech- nical tricks, but are not taught to observe, with the lesult that high school boys and girls draw no better than those in the third grade. Back of all drill in technique must be the observant and interested mind striving to express an idea. So above all things we must take care not to destroy a child's spontaneous love for drawing by making him self-conscious and distrustful. The ideal thing would be for us all to draw as easily as we write, when it will serve our turn, and there is no reason why we should not if given the proper training. REFERENCES Amberg, J. D. R. Drawing in General Education. Education, Vol. XIV., 26S. Baily, H. T. A First Year in Drawing. Report on Drawing (Industrial) xn^Sth Ann. Kept. 0/ Mass. Board of Educa- tion (1893 and 1894). Baldwin, J. Mark. Mental Development, Methods and Proc- esses, 50-57, 81-96. N. Y. Macmillan, $3.00. Balfour, H. Evolution of Decorative Art. Barnes E. Studies in Education. See Index. Chicago. Uni- versity of Chicago Press. Study of Children's Drawings. Fed. Sein., 1S92, 455-463. Barrett, H. V. Drawing in Elementary Schools. Mag. of Art, Vol. VIII.. pp. 326, 425. Brown, E. E. Art in Education. Proc. N. E. A., 1899, 112-121. (Pictures, tragic and comic, for the .schools. General.) Notes on Children's Drawings. U. of Cal. Studies, Vol. II. (Good.) DRAWING 39^ Clark, A. B. Child's Attitude toward Perspective Problem. Barnes's Studies in Ed., pp. 283-204. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. Clark, J. S. Children's Drawing. Educ. Rev., 1897, Vol. XIII., 76-82. Cooke, E. Art Teaching and Child Nature. Jour, of Educ, December, 18S5, and January, 1S86. Coole, E. The A. B. C. of Drawing. Special Kept, of Educ. Dept. of Gr. Britain. London, 1897. Dewey, John. Imagination and Expression— the Psychology of Drawing. Chicago. Kgn. Lib. Co., §0.15. Elementary School Record. Number on Art. Chicago. Univ. of Chicago Press, $0.17. Fitz, H. G. Freehand Drawing in Education. Pop. Sc. Mo., October, 1897, 75 5-765- Gallagher, Margaret. Children's Spontaneous Drawings. N. IV. Mo., 1897, 130-134. Herrick, Mary A. Children's Drawings. Pcd. Sent., 1S94-6, 338-339- Hicks, Mary Dana. Color in Public Schools. Proc. N. E. A., 1S94, 906-915. Art in Early Education. Ped. Sein., 1892, 463-466. Hogan, Louise. Study of a Child. Harper's Mo., June, 1898. Locker, J. C. With What Should Drawing Begin ? Proc. Intern. Cong. Ed., p. 491, N. Y,, 1894. Lukens, H. T. Drawing. Proc. N. E. A., 1899, 945-51- Children's Drawings in Early Years. Ped. Sent., 1896-7, 79-110. (Gives pictures. Good.) Maitland, M. L. What Children Draw to Please Themselves. Inland Ed. Vol. I. Eskimo Drawings. N. IV. Mo., June, 1899, 443-450. Mason, W. A. Psychology of the Object. Education, Vol. XV. O'Shea, M. V. Children's Expression through Drawing. Proc. N. E. A., 1897, 1015-23. (Good.) Some Aspects of Drawing. Ed. Rev., October, 1S97, Vol. XIV., 263-284. (General.) Parker, F. W. Tal/cs on Pedagogics. Chapter X. Chicago. Flanagan, §1.50. Pedagogical Seminary, 1S91, 445-447. Notes on Children's Drawings. 39' THE CHILD Perez, B. L'ari cl la pots ie chcz I' enfant. Chapter on Drawing. Paris. Alcan, .*!i.oo. Plessy. Typical Children's Drawings and Some Conclusions. Applied Art Bool;, October, 1901, Vol. I., 12-19. Ricci. C. Summary of His Work. Pcd. Sem., 1894-6, pp. 302-7. Rooper. T. G. Draiuing in Infant Schools. N. Y. Kellogg, •So. 1 5. Runcinan, J. Drawing in London Board Schools. Mog. of Art, Vol. VIII., 218. Schnieder, H. G. Drawing in the New York City Public Schools. Education, Vol. XVII., 304. Shinn, Milicent. Notes on the Development of a Child. U. of Cal. Studies, Vol. I. , p. 96. Spencer, Herbert. Education. N. Y. Appleton, $1.25. Sully, James. Studies of Childhood. Chapter on Art. N. Y. Appleton, $2.50. Warren; S. E. Industrial Drawing as an Element of Industrial Education. Education, Yo\. IV., 367. Woolner, T. Value of Drawing. Mag. of Art, Vol. XV. CHAPTER XIX Play 1. Get data from children of all grades in fall, win- ter, spring and summer, as to the play that observa- they like the best of all. tio°8. 2. Get data about clubs and societies that are formed and managed without adult encouragement and aid. 3. Keep records as to the plays of little children. 4. Collect accounts of plays and games used in formal education, stating the purpose for which they are used and how far they accomplish the purpose. In taking up the subject of play, we shall find many connections with the topics previously discussed. Play seems to be to a large extent the form in which childish ideas express themselves. Education . . . ^^ play. It is to the child what his life-work is to the man, and shows therefore most clearly what his nature is when left to himself. On this account obser- vation of the free play of children is of great assistance to a teacher in learning their true characteristics. Even from the earliest times there have been edu- cators who differed from the Hinterschlag professor. This worthy man knew of the soul only "that it had a faculty called memory and could be acted upon through the muscular integument by the application of birch rods." On the other hand, 2300 years ago Plato said: "The plays of children have the mightiest influence on the maintenance of laws — from the first 393 )94 THE CHILD years of chiklhooil, tlnir ])lays ought to be subject to laws, for if they are arbitrary and lawless, how can children ever become virtuous men, abiding by law?" Aristotle advised that the children before five years of age "should be taught nothing lest it hinder growth, but should be accustomed to use much motion— and this can be acquired by various means, among others by play, which ought to be neither too illiberal nor too laborious nor lazy." Luther tells us that "Solomon did not prohibit scholars from play at the proper time. A young man shut up (without recreation) is like a young tree which ought to bear fruit but is planted in a ])ot " Locke asserts that "the gamesome humor of child- hood which is wisely adapted by nature to its age and temper, should be encouraged, to keep up their spirits and improve their health and strength. The chief art is to make all that children have to do, sport and play." He invented games for teaching reading, and suggested others. Richter in his Levana says that "activity alone can bring and hold serenity and hap- piness. Unlike our games, the plays of children are the expressions of serious activity, although in light, airy dress. Play is the first poetical (creative) utter- ance of man." .Schiller says, "Man is man only when he plays." Finally Froebel, in the Education of Man, says: "Play is the highest phase of the child development — for it is self-attentive representation of the Froebel on jnper life from inner necessity and impulse. Play IS the purest, most spiritual activity ot man, at this stage, and at tin: same time typical of human life as a whole,— of tin- inner, hidden, natural life PLAY 395 in man and all things. It gives joy, freedom, content- ment, inner and outer rest, peace with the world. It holds the sources of all that is good. A child that plays thoroughly, with self-active determination, will surely be a thorough, determined man, capable of self- sacrifice for the promotion of the welfare of himself and others. The spontaneous play of the child dis- closes the future inner life of the man. If the child is injured at this period, if the germinal leaves of the future tree of his life are marred at this time, he will only with the greatest difficulty and the utmost effort grow into strong manhood." More recent study and observation have served only to emphasize these utterances and to show in detail their truth. Spencer tells us that all education, so far as it is true, tends to revert to play, and Preyer com- pares the child's play, in its value to him, to the work of the learned man. The distinction between play and work is a difficult one to draw. It is evidently not merely in the acts, nor in their result; to Tom Sawyer, white- washing the fence was the hardest sort wtTrk^'^'* of drudgery, but he made it into play for his boy friends and made them pay hi-m for the privilege of playing at it. Again, if a boy has to play marbles when he wants to go to a fire, the play becomes work. We often say that if we had to do as work what we play at — camping out, making century runs, etc., we should consider ourselves much abused. It is not alone the amount of effort, therefore, or the fact of having a definite end, that makes an activity work instead of play. It seems to be rather that the activity is pleasurable and spontaneous; that there is no 39^> THE CHILD external or internal cominilsion laid upon the player. Play in this sense includes all truly artistic work. It is not the opposite of work but the best way of doing work. It is working in the sjiirit of love, instead of in the spirit of duty. And yet we distinguish such work from play in that it does, after all, go beyond itself in the artist's appreciation of the ethical and social value of his art. Shut out play from work, and we get weariness and stupidity, we exclude growth, physical, intellectual and moral. The child who does not like play is abnormal. He is sick or stupid. He ought not to prefer to sit in his seat when the others are romping. Such a child is very likely to exhibit some of the signs of nervousness described in the first chapter, or signs of poor nutrition — either not enough food or else not the right kind. A distinction should also be made between games and play. All games are play, but not all plays are games. Games are organized, system- atized play, and involve more than one child. Groos in his theory of play, considers the physi- Theoryof ological, biological and psychological fac- piay. tors, in order to get a complete theory. There are two principles to which we must refer for a physiological theory of play, viz., the discharge of 1 TbephvB- surplus energy and the recreation of ex- ioiogicai hausted jiowers. The first is likely to standpoint. ^J^-^-^^p ^vhen, through rest or disuse, any set of organs has stored up more force than it needs, which force, therefore, tends to find an outlet in any con- venient direction. The second happens when we are tired of mental or physical labor, but still do not need rest, and so turn to the change and recreation given by PLAY 397 play. In both cases, a play so begun may be carried to the point of exhaustion, because any movement set up in the body tends to repeat itself and to produce a trance-like condition which is irresistible. The first overflow of energy is illustrated in the activity of a little child in the morning, when he jumps, skips, etc., from good spirits; the recreation, in his later conduct, when he turns from one play to another. In both cases, he may continue until he is tired out. Such a theory is satisfactory for certain forms ol play, but it leaves untouched the question of why the surplus energy and recreation take the particular forms that they do, and must therefore be supple- mented from the biological standpoint. We do not find the play instinct in animals that have to support themselves from birth. It develops in proportion as the animal is freed from the ^ The bio- serious duties of life. The highly-devel- logical oped animals are the most unfit to provide ^^^^ ^° ° ' for themselves at birth, are the most plastic or educa- ble, and require the longest period of infancy or care- taking. These animals are also the most playful. We do not think of an oyster, and hardly of a chick as playing. But colts, puppies, kittens, are all playful, while the child is the player par excellence, and play is a large part of his training for life. The superfluous energy and the desire tor recreation find the easiest outlets through the channels of instincts, ind thus not only recapitulate race experience, but serve the useful function of being an important form of organic exercise. It seems to be true that the spontaneous actions of play are the same as those which the child will need later to use seriously. We 3C)S THE CHILD fiiul plays varyinjj^ in different species of animals, according to their instincts. Thus a pu[)py plays vigorously at biting, fighting, etc., in his way, and so is trained for actual fighting later. A kitten plays very different!)' from a l>npp_\', l)ut its play serves equally well to prepare it for its life. Children in like man- ner play according to the way their ancestors have acted. The channels worn by ages of use are the easiest ones through which superfluous energy can escape, and so both the spontaneous and the imitative tendencies tend to the reproduction of racial activities, hunting of animals, sham fights, and so on. The believers in the culture-epoch theory put here also the plays of tent life, ca\'e lifi', pastoral life, which most children go through at some time. Some of the games based on the hunting instinct are games of chase, like tag; games of searching, like hide-and-seek; games of hurling, like quoits. Bas(.;d on the fighting instinct are games of contest, like football; and all that bring out emulation, like racing. The element of imitation doubtless enters into all these plays, but unless they appealed to some natural tendencies they would not be imitated. In the various kindergarten plays we find an attenijit to make this tendency regularly serviceable in education. Now all these plays which thus reproduce race activi- ties are of value also because they provide a large amount of exercise for the child, and so aid greatly in bodily control. As they reproduce adult activities, however crudely, they train the muscles for those activities. The girl in her playhouse is learning how to handle the household iileiisils carefully. The boy in his baseball and rumiiug games gains a fleetness and PLAY 399 readiness that arc serviceable in all but the most sedentary occupations. There is no part of the body left undeveloped by the plays of children. Ordinarily also, this exercise can be secured in no other way. Gymnastics are not comparable with free play, for they exercise only certain sets of muscles and the same sets for all children, whereas free play allows each child to exercise the least used muscles, and also relieves the strain of attention. Further, because children do not enjoy gymnastics especially, they do them only under direction, and do not get as much exercise as from free play. Gymnastics are, of course, valuable when chil- dren do not get plays that exercise all the muscles, or when they are deformed or developed unsymmetri- cally; but, says one writer, the finest type of physical man is not produced by the gymnasia or the palaestra, but by games — rowing and running, football and base- ball, golf, tennis, etc. The movement for playgrounds in the city thus assumes as great an importance as the securing of gymnasia, especially because the children do not get any of the natural opportunities for exercise either in work or in play that the country and village children get. When we approach the question of the mental state of the playing child, one of the most prominent factors is his acceptance of an illusion, his playing 3 .^.^^ pgy_ of a part. The girl who makes a doll out cboiogicai of a sofa-pillow and the boy who plays sol- ^ ^° ^^^°^ ' dier, know that they are "making believe," and yet accept the pretense with delight. Lange calls it a conscious self-deception, in which a period of illusion follows a moment of readjustment. The combination of the two is seen in laughing boys in a sham fight. 26 400 THE CHILD Groos believes that the delight in the illusion is due to the feeling of freedom in acc(;pting the illusion and joy in being the cause of it. The child is guarded from error by th(,' subconsciousness that lu; himself created the thing, and s.o plays joyously with it as if it were a reality. Such plays pass by slow transitions into artistic creation and invention, in which the sense of unreality is replaced by belief in their truth and their social value. Much of what is called play in babies anc little children is rather an experimenting with the senses First play an '^'^^' motor apparativs for the sake of the experiment- new f(X'lings thus produced. .Such plays ^^^' are based directly upon the instinctive demand of these organs for activity, and are lacking in the factor (jf illusion which we h;ive just mentioned. They serve the biological i)urpose already mentioned. Numerous illustrations of this might be given from every sense.. 1. Touch. Very early in life a baby enjoys stroking, and seeks to put everything into his mouth. The lat- ter is done not only when tlu: child is hungr\' but when he has just been fed, and is enjoNed for the contact with the lips, tongue, etc. In tlu; bath, he gets various sensations by splashing. The baby explores his body, handles all he can reach, and in every way plays with the touch sensations. 2. Te7npcroturc. The seeking of a stinging air, a cool breeze, a hot sun, not so much to relieve any discomfort as to enjoy them, are instances of play here. 3. Taste. The love of having , something in the mouth — candy, gum, a clove, an olive stone, tobacco — PLAY 401 testifies to the playful use we all make of touch. Even a stone or a tasteless bit of beeswax satisfies some people when they can get nothing better. The intention in such cases is not, of course, to satisfy hunger, but simply to get new sensations. 4. Smell. We do not find play so much in evidence here, although sometimes children do play games that call into use the sense of smell. 5. Hearing. We spoke at some length of hearing, under the head of music. Here we have only to note that these first sounds that are heard and produced with so much pleasure, are to the child a form of play. lie listens and reproduces, makes up rhymes, and repeats his chain rhymes, Mother Goose, and so on, in a spontaneous enjoyment that asks for nothing more. He is not limited to his own voice, but rattles and shakes and tears anything that he can get hold of, to satisfy his insatiable ear. 6. Light. The same is true of sight. Whether it is merely the enjoyment of brightness and color, or the more complex delight in forms and in objects, a child is constantly seeking to produce a new expe- rience or to repeat a pleasurable old one, 7. Playful movements of the bodily organs. All this play with the senses involves movement, but we find the child also experimenting in all sorts of ways with his hands and legs and head, "putting them into all sorts of positions and enjoying himself immensely. In course of time he learns to run and walk, and then we can see plainly his play in jumping, stamping, rowing, taking difficult steps, climbing and giving himself a thousand tests of skill. He does not limit himself to his own body, either, but takes possession of anything 402 THE CHILD upon which he can exercise his muscles. He tears paper, shakes keys and all noisy objects, splashes water, and so on Considerable observation has been made of chil- dren's free play with a view to seeing just what they do when left alone. Many nationalities avor e ^^^^^ classes have been observed with the plays. interestint,^ result that children of the same age, whatever their nationality, or social class, play essentially the same gamers and plays. The names may differ, but certain characteristics are common to all. As we should expect, the plays of little children of the kindergarten age are much more imitative than those of older children. Playing family and store are by far the most popular both with girls and boys, and in these plays the home life is reproduced, often with startling fidelity. Playing church comes next to these, but it is played only about one-third as much as the others. In observations made on twenty-nine kindergarten children, five to six years old, it was found that in their plays they divided spontaneously into four groups. The first group consisted of the older boys. Their plays contained much action and imagination. In three months thirty-one dramatic plays were observed, such as policeman, fireman, store. The second group was made up of the older girls. Their plays were also dramatic, but quieter than the boys. Playing house and school were the great favorites. The third consisted of the smaller children and older bashful girls. They played simple games, but spent most of their time in rushing from one to the PLAY 4^: other of the other groups as they were attracted by the games going on. The fourth group consisted of the left-overs, list- less children, who did not seem to care for any game, and spent most of their time in the swing. All these plays are imitative rather than inventive. It is interesting to notice that usually the same play is played on consecutive days, the interest shifting only by degrees. Thus, if house is played on one day, it is likely to be played for a while the next day. That day another game may be introduced also, and this will be likely to survive the next day and so on. Some plays are played almost every day, but what shifting there is, is of this gradual nature. The particular play chosen seemed to be selected either because the children liked it very much, or because some child of strong personality forced his liking upon the others even if they did not care for the play. The latter was not at all an uncommon occur- rence. Children below seven years of age rarely play games unless stimulated by older children or by adults. Their plays are individualistic and non- competitive. The question has been raised Character of ^ 111-1 plays of little seriously, therefore, whether the knidergar- cMidren. ten should force cooperation upon its chil- dren; whether it is not urging them into a stage which they are not yet ready for. Froebel himself, it is urged, says that boyhood, rather than childhood, is the time when the unity with others comes to con- sciousness, and that childhood is the time for learn- ing to perceive things as distinct. The feeling of unity is vague and the tendency is toward defining 404 "^"^ ^"'^° percepts and ideas, makins^- them distinct rather than related. The kinderj^Mrten period up to the second dentition is especially the toy period. The plays usually center about some object upon which numerous Play with imae-inincfs can be basi'd, the doll, ihv. toys. >^ t> _ enrrine, etc. But it is not at all essential that the toy should be an elaborate one. It is better for a child to be supplied with plenty of material, such as blocks and sand, from which he can make many things, and with some simple toys, than to have expensive mechanisms which he can not shape to his will. He ought to be able to take any toy to pieces and put it together again without injury to it. Almost anything will serve a child for a toy, when he is left to his own inventions — flowers and leaves, twigs, berries, grass, bits of glass and china, iron, cloth, etc.— anything that will serve as a peg for his fancy. It is noticeable, however, that when children make toys, they usually only copy — making sleds, hammers, axes, etc. The universal toy is, of course, the doll, uj)on which both the invention and imitation of the child expend themselves to the utmost. We find from Dr. Hall's article that children prefer dolls of certain materials, thus: wax, 22 per cent; paper, ig per cent; china, 18 per cent; rag, 17, per cent; bisque, 12 per cent; china and cloth, 9^ per cent; rubber, 8 per cent. But lacking these, they substitute: pillows, 4}4 per cent; sticks, 3 per cent; bottles, 2^ per cent; dogs, 2 per cent; cats or kittens, i}4 per cent; shawls, 2j4 per cent; flowers, l j)er cent; clothes-pins, I per PLAV 405 cent, to say nothing of such things as toy washboards or wringers in isolated cases. Any size from 4 to 12 inches suits, but blondes with curly hair and eyes that open and shut are preferred. Babies are liked best before five years, and children after that time. The mental (qualities that are attributed to these first children are as varied as the human nature that the child knows. It is an interesting question how far a child really believes that the doll can feel, be good, jealous, and so on, and how far he is conscious of its lifelessness. In feeding a doll, for instance, i>2 per cent maintain that the doll really is hungry and the same number are in doubt; 2 per cent declare that the doll never is hungry while the great majority either feed the doll or touch the food to her mouth and then eat it themselves. In such cases there is a conscious- ness of the play, although a child may be really dis- tressed over the doll's cold or sickness. Among the qualities ascribed to dolls the most com- mon are: goodness, 27 per cent; cold, 24 per cent; inability to love, 22 per cent; weariness, 21 per cent; hunger, 21 per cent; badness, 16 per cent; jealousy, 8>^ per cent; hatred, 7 per cent; ability to sleep, 37 per cent. The love of dolls appears to reach its height in the ninth year although strong from the third year to the twelfth. Many girls play with dolls until they go into long dresses and are ridiculed for their love of it; and not a few ladies confess to the existence of the passion. Dr. Hall questions whether this love is as closely connected with the maternal instinct as we commonly suppose, citing in proof of his statement the fact that many girls who were very fond of dolls, do 4q5 the child not, as women, care much for children, and vice versa. This may be true in isolated cases, but still play is so evidently an imitation of the mother, prompted by instinct, that we must have more than a few contrary instances to invalidate this belief. During the second dentition, when the association- fibers of the brain are developing rapidly, the plays of children undergo as marked a change as Plays of ^ -2 older chii- their other activities do. There is first a '^^^^' period of dramatic play, which serves to connect the toy period with the next, and then the plays involve much violent exercise and become highly competitive in character and much more varied. Hide- and-seek, is played by only 8 per cent of boys seven years old and by 55 per cent of boys ten years old. The interest in traditional games— hide-and-seek, tag, prisoner's base, fox and hounds, etc. — most of which involve violent exercise and competition, reaches its height in the tenth year. This is also the period when the love of animals and the desire to possess them are most prominent. If it is feasible, this desire should be gratified and the child taught to take the responsibility of feeding them. Such a care is a valu- able training in kindness and unselfishness, and teaches a child to estimate more correctly the kindness of his parents in taking care of him. Certain differences between boys and girls appear in the ten thousand children observed. As a rule, the girls' games are quieter than the boys', ^°y^'. ^^^ g They play a greater variety of games, and they do not organize as the boys do. Foot- ball and baseball are overwhelmingly the favor- ites with boys, while with girls no one game has PLAY 407 anything like that popularity. Again, no girls took part in the play with the sandpile, except occasion- ally, and they do not organize societies as boys do. The following tables show the relative prominence of games and of clubs at different ages. The names at the top indicate the authority for the figures given. Percentages are given in all cases. The two figures indicate the per cents at the two age limits. Playing House .... Playing School.. . . Playing Horse. . . . Playing War Play with dolls. . . With doll furniture With teaset With doll carriage With leaves With flowers Books and reading Music Cards Checkers Dominoes Hide-and-seek.. • Ball Baseball Running games. . . Fox - hounds, foot- ball, tag, etc. . . . Games of rivalry . . Games with coop- eration Croquet Rhythm and mo- tion T, R. Croswell. 1000 boys, 1000 girls. Kindergarten- High school Boys Girls Both 6-5 7-rV 16-2 c 1- 3 H a lU O I /3 5 3-1^0 2-1 16-3 27-8 18-4 8 at 55 at 12-28 36i- 5l 25-3 4-i'tt t-h 26-23 8--3- ° 1 o 24-7 23-8 io-i'ti 11-2 6-1 15-5 18-3 13-2 7y- 10 y. 5-4 £< Z. McGhee. 4566 children. 6-18 years Boys Girls Both 12-3 31-1 2-9 31-21 42-65 25-41 3-45 20-70 10-10 W. S. Monroe. 2000 children. 7-16 years Boys Girls Both 40 65 70 Foot- ball 32 20 27 60 35 Tag 50 44 73 31 4o8 THE CHILD Birth Anglo-Saxon Boys' Plays (Neuro-Muscu la r. ) Kicking. Whole arm, body aud hand movements. Dropping things. Blocks. Sand Plays, digging, piling, etc. Running, throwing, cutting and fold- ing. Swinging. Shooting, guns, bows, slings, etc. Knife work. Tools of increasing complexity. Machinery Sailing. Rowing. Swimming. 'Leap Tag. Cross tag. Word tag. Prisoner's base. Hide and seek. Black man. Gymnastics. Indian Clubs etc. Ball games. One old cat. Throwing. Duck on Fungo. a rock. Rounders, . frog. «tc. Track and ^^arble games. "Stunts, 'ield Sporls. ^^t- ^iuts, hole, etc. 'oot-ball games. Care of land and animals. ^^' Baseball. Hunting, fishing. ^r Basket-ball, War. Wrestling. ^ Cricket. Boxing, fencing. X Hockey. Predatory. / Gangs. Billiards. / Houses in woods. Bowling. / Pals, Predatory gangs. Hero service. Diagram ij. LUTJIHR GULICK's TAnl.F, SllOWINC. THE ASPECTS OP GUOUP GaMES IN Boys From Skven lo Eighteen Years of Age. (Used by permission of the Pcdaj^ogical Stminarj.) PLAY Clubs* 409 Secret Societies: Girls Boys Predatory: THE Girls. GANG Boys. Social Clubs: Girls Boys Industrial : Girls Boys Philanthropic: Girls Boys Lit, Art: Girls Musical: Boys Athletic: Girls Boys Total 8 yrs. II yrs. 12 yrs. 13 yrs. 17 yrs. Number. 31 22 7 54 15 7S 15 4 67 23 25 111 104 28 187 59 (>S 28 69 406 The psychological value of play has already been touched upon in the theory of play, and so we will emphasize here only its especial importance psvchoioei- for nervous children. Wisely directed play cai value of can often be made a cure for hysteria, ^ ^^" chorea, stuttering, and other such nervous diseases, where development of the muscular control, such as can be gained in play, is a desideratum. In the cities also, where children do not naturally get the exercise that a country or a village child gets, it is imperative that the exercise should be obtained through play, not only because the body is so devel- oped, but especially because, as we have already seen, *The table is given in per cents; the totals in absolute numbers , jQ THE CHILD tin- liif;ln-st mental and moral \iitius can not easily nourish where the body is dwarfed. Play is an important method of realizing the social instincts and at this point we run across imitation again. Animals in tht:ir play imitate the social value ^,^j^.^ ^,^^5 j,^ ^j^^i^. hmiting and fighting, of play. . . , , ^ . carrying it to great lengths at times. Children in their play with each other have a most important aid to social development. 1. They gain flexibility of mind and self-control. Plays quicken the various mental processes. Some cultivate perception, close observation; others, imagi- nation; others require quick and accurate judgment, and so on. Many cultivate all of these to a marked extent. Self-control is given by all games to a certain extent, for a child learns to meet failure with equanim- ity, but competitive games especially cultivate this. In all cases where the play is not too intense, the whole emotional nature is gladdened and made buoyant. "Play is the recruiting office and drill sergeant of all the powers of the child." 2. They have endless opportunities for imitation and in\ention. The children in any group always divide into two classes — the leaders and the led, the relatively inven- tive and the relatively imitative, but there is more or less changing of parts here. The imitative child may come to school with a new or taking trick, and thus become the leader temporarily. In both cases, each child learns his own powers and those of the others as compared with him. lie gets a certain place in the group, which he can change if he can develop the necessar)' (jualities. He finds the value of cooperation PLAY 411 in all the games where sides are taken, and at the same time the x'alue oi individuality and originality if one has ambitions to be a leader. Baldwin says: "To exhibit what I can do alone is to exhibit my imi)(jr- tance as an ally. The sense of my weakness in myself is a revelation to me of my* need of you as an ally. The presence of a stronger than either is a direct incitement to quick alliance between you and me against him. And the victory gained by the alliance is both a confirmation to us of the utility of social cooperation and a convincing proof to him that society is stronger than the individual. The spirit of union, the sense of social depend- ence as set over against the spirit of private intoler- ance; the habit of suspension of private utilities for the larger social good; the willingness to recognize and respond to the leadership of the more competent — all this grows grandly on the play-ground of every school." The classical example of the social value of play at its best is given in the "Story of a Sandpile. " The story began when two boys, three and five years old, had a pile of sand to play in, and aSandpiiJ" extended over nine years, the play being resumed each summer. The first two summers the play was of a desultory character, digging, making things that were soon destroyed, and so on; but by degrees it assumed an organized character, children of the neighborhood were drawn in, and a miniature vil- lage was made. The village was laid out in streets; houses, barns, and other buildings were whittled out, as were also people and animals. Gradually a govern- ment was evolved, each boy expressing the opinions .J 2 '^^^ CHILD and doing the work of the doll-nn-n \vh- Bolton, on rhythms, 342. Brain, control of movements, 278; growth uf, 280. Bryan, on control of movements, 282. Bryant, on memory,* 111-112. Buckman, origin of speech, 319-320. Bullying and teasing, 198. Calendar forms, 1 15-118. Calkins, on fears, 220-221. Caresses, 227. Causes, interest in, 237, 239, 245 reasoning on, 156, 160. Cell, growth of, 17-18. Chance, idea of, 196. Chandler, on hopes, 131. Children, imitation of, 296. Child-study, 9-12. Classes, idea of, 144. Classification and language, 332-335- Climbing, 265-266. Clow, on reasoning, 163-166. Clubs, 409. Coe, on conversion, 185. Color, discrimination of, 281-282; interest in, 240, 375; vocabulary, 326. Comparison, 145-146. Compayre,on impulsive movements, 257; pains and pleasures, 214; sen- sations, 71 ; sound, 76. Concept, of good and evil, 193-211; and language, 332-335 ; and reason- ing, 141-172. Consonants, order of appearance in speech, 319-321. Control of body, 275-288. Convergence of eyes, 83. Conversion, 182 188, 190. Creeping, 264-265. Cries, expressive, 316 317, 319. Criminals, bodily condition of, 48, treatment of, 49. Cruelty, 198. Culture epochs, 248-249. Curiosity, 168. Custom, idea of, 199. 426 THE INDEX 427 Dance, and origin of nmsic, 344. Darrah, on hopes, 131. Darwin, on anger, 216; origin of music, 344 ; sounds, 320. Deafness at birth, 75-76. Deductive reasoning, 165. Degenerate, the, 50-51. Demme, on head movements, 261. Dermal senses, 77-80. Dewey, on affection, 226 ; concept of number, 149-150; first vocabulary, 325- Diet of children, 74-75. Disease, and age, 25-26 ; and posture, 43- Distance, concept of, 151-152 ; and imagination, 127 ; instinct of, 8g-go. Dolls, 404-406. Drawing, 373-392 ; interest in, 243. Dreams and imagination, 122. Ebbinghaus, on memory, log-iii. Education and conversion, 184; and nerve cells, 18; and rhythms of growth, 25 ; by play, 393-395. Ellis, Havelock, on sexual abuse, 62. Emotion, feeling and, 212-230; early, 212. Ends and means, 167. Esthetic feeling and imitation, 300. Evil, concept of good and, 193-211. Evolution, 290-292. Fatigue, 35-46; and memory, 115; and play, 396-397. Fear, 219-224; and fatigue, 38; per- sistence of. 102. Feelings and emotions, 212-230. Feldinan, on first words, 324. Flanders, on drawing, 385, 387-389. Food, effect on weight, 19, 23 ; natu- ral vs. artificial, 19. Form, interest in, 240, 375-376. Frear, on imitation, 296. Friendship and moral education, 209. Games, interest in, 236; at different ages, 403, 406, 407-409 ; and play, 396. Gates, on favorite songs, 345-348. Geography, interest in, 243. Gestures, instinctive, 312-314 ; volun- tary, 314; and words, 316. Gilbert, on control of movements, 282. Good and evil, concept of, 193-211; 198-199. Good breeding and morality, 208 209. Grasping, 80 82 ; observations on, 69 ; interest in, 235. Growth, 15-25; in control of body; 275288; and school grading, 284, concept of, 150; rhythms of, 269. Guyau, on suggestion, 305. Gymnastics and play, 399. Habit, 293-294, 98-101. Hale, on children's inventions of words, 327-328. Hall, G. S., on contents of children's minds, 92 93, 242; early memories, 102 ; dolls, 404-406 ; fear, 222-223 i religious training, 188 189; tickling and laughing, 215 216. Hall, Mrs. W. S., on rolling, 263; creeping, 264; walking, 267-268; sound sensations, 76 77 ; grasping, 80-81 ; eye movements, 84-85 ; per- ception, 88-89. Hamburgher, on hopes, 135-137. Hancock, reasoning on number, 166. Handwork, 276, 285-288. Health and play, 396 397 ; and mem- ory, 115 ; and idiocy, 48 ; and crim- inality, 48 ; and morality, 207-208. Hearing, colored, 115 ; tests for, 34-35. Height, and weight, 283, 21 ; increase in, 20. Heredity, and interest, 232 233 ; and plays, 397-398. History, interest in, 243. Holbrook, on fear, 222. Hopes of children, 130-137. Hygiene of sex, 64-65. Hypnotism, 293. Ideals of children, 130-137. Ideas and suggestion, 304. Idiot, bodily condition, 48 ; treat- ment of, 49. 42S THE INDEX Illusions and imng^inntion, 133-124. linages, 105 109 ; and memory, 103- 107 ; and concepts, 143 ; and relig- ion, 176, 190. Imagination, 120-140; and play, 3)9- 400; and reason, 155. Imbecile, bodily condition, 48 ; treat- ment of, 49. Imitation, interest in, 235-236; and play, 402 ; and suggestion. 290-310. Impulsive movements, >54-257. Inattention and fatigue, 45. Individual and race, ^^48-249; method, 10. Inductive reasoning, i6i-i6j. Inflections, children's, 329-330. Insensitiveness and fatigue, 45: Instinct, and gesture, 312-314 ; of imi- tation, 294-2^5; and play, 397-398 ; and movement, 259-272. Interests, 231-251; and fatigue, 40; and feeling, 213; and memory, 113- "4- Invention and imitation, 301-302; and imagination, 128. Involuntary movement, 252-^72. Jacobs, on memory, 111-112. Jealousy, 218. Jegi, on hopes, 132-133; on money motive, 134. Joys and sorrows, 224-225. Keller, Helen, early memories, 102 ; prominent images, 107. Kirkputrick, on memory, 1 12-1 13. L.-xncaster, on sexual dangers, 63. Language, 311-338; secret, 330-332; and conception, 153-154 ; interest in 2351 2361 243- Laughing, tickling and, 215. Law, idea of, 160-161, 199. Lies, 196-197; and imagination, 126, 129-130. Lips, sensitiveness of, 78. Locomotion, 263-269. Love, 226-228. Mar.sh, on songs, 345-348. Mass, drawing in, 384, 387. McDonough farm, 195-196. Means and ends, 67. Melody, love of, 344-345, 349-350- Memory, 96-119 ; earliest, 85 ; and im- agination, 121. Mental, development and physical, >6> 32. 59 ; fatigue, 37-45. Methods of Child-Study, 10. Monotony and fatigue, 39. Monroe, on hopes, 131, 133. Morality, religion, and theology, 174- 175; of child, 193-21 1 ; and health, 16, 32, 45, 48, 207-208; and good breed- ing, 208-209; and friendship, 209. Moral training, 204-209. Aiosso, on emotions and movements, 292-293. Mouthing, 78 80, 260. Movements, 252-274 ; and conscious- ness, 292-294 ; random, 80 ; of hands, 81 ; of eyes, 83-85; interest in, 236, 240, 243, 245; imitation of, 296297; expressive, 312-314 ; control of, and mental ability, 285 ; control of, and height and weight, 283. Muscles, fatigue of, 36, 45-46 ; read- ing, 293. Music, rhythm and, 339 ; in Elemen- tary School of University of Chi- cago, 349-370 ; interest in, -243. Mystery and imagination, 127. Names, love of, 154. Nature, interest in study of, 243, 245; and religion, 177, 189-190; rhythms of. 339- Nerve cells, 277 ; connections be- tween, 279-280; and movements, 276277; and education, 18; and fatigue, 18. Nerve fibers, 277-280 ; and associa- tion and comparison, 145 ; and imagination, 122 ; and memory, 9697. Nervousness, 46-47. Noises, love of, 344. Number, concept of, 149-150 ; reason- ing on, 166; forms, 115-118. Nursery rhymes, 342-343. THE INDEX 429 Observation of children, importance of, 13; general directions for, 13 14 ; for Concepts, 141 ; for drawing, 373 ; for feeling and emotion, 212 ; iot control of body, 275 • for imitation and suggestion, 200 ; for move- ments, 252; for language, 311; for memory, 96 ; for imagination, 120 ; for moral sense, 193 ; for music and rhythm, 339; for play, 393; for religious sentiment, 173. Order, law and, 160-161. Originality and imitation, 301-302. Ornamentation, 380 381. O'Shea, on love of pictures, 378 ; or- namentation, 380-381. Outline, drawing in, 384, 387. Overwork, 37. Overworry, 38. Ownership, idea of, 195 196. Pains and pleasures, first, 213-214. Parental instinct, 270. Perception, and conception, 144; and imagination, 123 ; and memory, 97 ; and movement, 253 ; and sensation, 69-95. Perez, on fatigue, 214 ; on compar- ison, 146 ; spontaneous imagina- tion, 122 ; the first vocabulary, 324- 325. Personification, 124-125, 156 157. Persons, interest in, 236, 239, 243, 245- 246. Phillips, on teaching instinct, 270. Physiological suggestion, 303. Pictures, love of, 376-379. Pity, 225 226. Play, 393 415. Playmates, imaginary, 126-127. Pleasures, pains and, 213-214. Possession, idea of, 195-196. Postures, and disease, 43. Preyer, on class ideas, 145 ; fear, 220 ; imitation, 295; gestures; 312-314; memories, 103-104 ; movements, 84, 85, 258-259, 261, 262, 267, 268 ; pains and pleasures, 214; sensations, 71, 73i 76, 78, 80 ; perceptions, 88, 89 ; instinct of distance, 97 ; language, 319, 326, 327, 328. Programs, school, and fatigue, 39. Pronunciation, 322-323. Puberty, 58-59 ; and conversion, iRi- 182. Punishment, 200-209. Purpose, idea of, 158. Questions, children's, 168-169. Race and individual, 248-249. Random movements, 254-257. Reasoning, and conception, 141-172; and imagination, 125-126. Recognition, 85. Recollections, loi. Reflex movements, 257-259. Religious sentiment and theological ideas, 173-192. Repetition, in imitation, 298-299. Reproductive organs, 57. Rhythm and music, 339-372 ; interest in, 236, 242. Ribot, on number, 149. Richter, on suggestion, 308. Rivalry and fatigue, 38. Rolling, 263-264. Salisbury, on vocabulary, 325. Sandpile, story of a, 411-412. Sanford and Triplett, on rhythms, 342- Schallenberger, on punishment, 200. Scott, C, on anger, 217-218. Seats, 43-45. Seeing, interest in, 235. Self, concept of, 151. Selfishness in affection, 227. Sensation, and perception, 69-95 i the first, 71 ; cultivation of, 91 ; effect of defective, 92-93 ; and concepts, 144; and puberty, 59; and memory, 96- 97 ; play with, 400-402. Sentences, first, 328-329. Sequences, in reasoning, 159-100. Sex, feelings and ideas of, 56-68; instruction on, 66 ; abuse, 62-63. Shaw, on interests, 239-240. Sheldon, on hopes, 135-137. 430 THE INDEX Shinn, on color, 375; cries, 319-320; comparisons, 145-146; imitation, 295; movements of head, 261 ; locomo- tion, 263-267; pictures, 377 ; sensa- tions, 71-72; sounds, 76; sucking and mouthing, 78-79 ; memory, 85 ; perception, 88-89. Sight, observations, 69; develop- ment, 82-85 ; defective, 33 ; and per- ception, 87-90. Sign language, 314-315. Sitting erect, 262. Skin, sensitiveness of, 77. Small, on suggestion, 304. Smell, 71, 73. Smile, the first, 214. Societies, 409. Society, and imitation, 301; and relig- ious spirit, 175; and moral sense, 194. Songs, 345-348 ; composition of, 350- 370- Sorrows, joys and, 224-225. Sound, sensations, 75-77 ; and per- ception, 87. Speech, 311-338; and drawing, 381- 382 ; imitation of, 296-297. Spelling, interest in, 243. Spencer, on punishment, 204. Spontaneous movements, 254 257. Starbuck, on religious ideas, 179, 181- 182, 185 188. Statistical method, 11. Stimulus, response to, 282. Stories and imagination, 123. Street, on punishment, 201. Structure, interest in, 240. Stud)', and fatigue, 38. Suasion, moral, 205. Substance, interest in, 240. Sucking, 234-235. Suggestion, imitation and, 290-310. Sully, on concept of growth, 150; cosmology, 162; fear, 219-220; love of flowers, 376 ; pronunciation, 322- 323 ; questions, 169. Surroundings, early, 103. Sympathy, 325 226. Taine, on first cries, 320. Tapping, rapidity of, 282. Taste, sen.sations of, 71, 73-75; and perception, 86. Taylor, on hopes, 131 ; on sensations of temperature, 77. Teacher, and suggestion, 305 308. Teaching instinct, 270. Teasing and bullying, 198. Temperament and conversion, 185. Temperature, sensations of, 77. Theological ideas, 173-192. Thought, 141 172; and language, 332- 333- Tickling and laughing, 215. Time, concept of, 152. Tones, sensitiveness to, 345. Tongue, sensitiveness of, 78. Touch, sensations of, 77-78 ; and per- ception, 86-90. Toys, 404. Tracy, on first cries, 321 ; vocabulary, 3251 327- Trettien, on movements, 255--?56 ; locomotion, 264 ; sitting, 262. Triplett and Sanford, on rhytb~is. 342. Truth, idea of, 196 197. Variety and fatigue, 39-40. Ventilation, 41-43. Vocabulary, 324-328. Voice and puberty, 58. Walking, 266-269. Weight, increase in, 18-20; and food, 19; and height, 21 ; and muscular control, 283 ; discriminations of, 282. Whiting, on personification of num- bers, 124-125. Will and imitation, 299. Winking, 83. Wolff, Hoy's dictionary, 325. Wonder, 168. Words, first, 324; invention of, 327; and gesture, 316. Word furms, 115-118. Work and play, 395-396. 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